#oh my GOD im so excited to be almost done

[separatist-apologist]

Throw Me To The Flames

You could drag me through hell if it meant I could hold your hand

Summary: Elain only ever meant to deliver a message to Vassa on behalf of her sister's court. She never intended to see Lucien.

And she CERTAINLY didn't mean to get in the way of a knife that was only ever meant for his chest.

Kidnapped, and dragged helpless to the continent, the two will have to work together if they want to survive.

Note: HAPPY HOLIDAYS to my BEST @acotargiftexchange, @fieldofdaisiies

I hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed hanging out with you!!!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Read More AO3

In all Elain’s life, she never expected to find herself standing in a human manor, fussing over a pot of tea again. She could hear rustling wings and the tapping disapproval of Azriel’s impatient boot. They were waiting on Lord Graysen and she knew it irritated him. There were other things he needed to be doing, and while he certainly didn’t have to chaperone this meeting, she appreciated it all the same.

He wasn't the only one out there monitoring for good behavior. Arina, who had declared she and Elain were now inseparable, had taken one distrustful look at Azriel and said she’d come, too. A representative, she’d added when Azriel had sighed with exasperation, of Day Court.

And Jurian was there, simmering with quiet anger at the entire thing. He’d begun raising the human armies and Elain had heard the bitter argument between him and Azriel—why did Nolan get the final say?

Because Nolan had the capital and Scythia was still divided. They needed the men loyal to Grayen to rally the rest of the humans if they wanted an army at least the size they’d utilized with Hybern. 

Elain swept into the living room she’d stood in once before, the memory of that argument with Lucien replaying before her eyes. It was like watching the ghost of two people she barely knew, face off and ready for combat. Now Azriel was perched on that pink couch, his discomfort evident. Jurian stood in the doorframe, eyes trained on the door while Arina paced by a window.

“Are you sure—”

A knock interrupted Jurian’s angry words, drawing him into the hall. Azriel glanced at the steaming tear before nodding for Elain to sit, too. 

“Don’t serve him,” Azriel murmured. It was the sort of thing Lucien would say, too. Still, the urge to do things right overwhelmed her. She knew every step to this dance—play her part immaculately to get what she needed. Fall on her knees to beg the man she’d sworn to always love to help her rescue the man she currently did. 

He was not as she remembered. Time had settled into the fine lines of his once youthful face, marking him older. Gray peppered at his warm brown hair and teased against a mustache he hadn’t always had.

Her chest ached at the sight. So many years had passed, seemingly as quick as a breath. She had never once considered what that passage truly meant. That one day she might wake and Graysen would merely be gone, passing like memory over the earth. 

Graysen, who’d been staring at her with open-mouthed surprise, closed his lips into a firm line. “Elain.”

She looked at Azriel, who’d told her that Graysen would only speak to her. Was it to express his disapproval one last time? To humiliate her all over again, having found the first time so wildly satisfactory.

“I said I would speak with her, not with an audience,” Graysen continued in clipped tones. Dressed in the familiar cobalt blue of his family crest, he was a peek into a life she might have had, if things had worked out even a little differently. 

He wore a band of iron around his ring finger, resting casually—who had he married, she wondered? Who had replaced her in his home, his heart? He didn’t notice how her eyes traveled, his gaze burning on Azriel. As if anything he could say, anything he might do would frighten the ancient, winged male behind her.

“You’ll take what I offer,” was Azriel’s cold response. He punctuated it by sitting himself on that garish couch, flaring his wings for effect. Graysen’s distaste was apparent, made worse when

Arina stepped forward and with a revealing, pointed smile, asked, “Tea?”

They needed him. Elain turned to him, wanting just once to touch him. Instead, she kept her hands curled to fists at her sides. “You asked to speak with me?”

“I wanted to see you,” he admitted, taking one careful step towards her. “You haven’t changed—”

“She’s immortal,” Jurian snapped, earning twin looks of amusement from Arina and Azriel. “She will outlive you.”

Graysen’s mood darkened all over again. Elain was burning with humiliation, warring with the same impatience that seemed to have infected Jurian. They were wasting time. Azriel could be helping Cassian gather troops while Rhysand prepared to winnow them in. She and Arina could have begun planning how Elain would get herself close enough to the fortress so she could find that hidden box. 

“What do you want, Gray?” she asked, her voice wearier than she’d meant to sound. “It’s been so long and you said…”

You said you didn’t want me.

“Are you happy?” he asked her, something flickering in his eyes. Elain felt unmoored for a moment, adrift in his question, his gaze, and the realization that he wanted her to tell him no. That though he’d rejected her and cast her aside, and even though they both knew he would never be brave enough to claim her like he should have all those years ago, he still hoped she was miserable.

Because he was miserable. 

“Yes, Gray. I am.”

It was the truth. Maybe if he’d asked her a year before she might have told him she was. Graysen’s disappointment was rippled for only a moment before it vanished subtle enough that had she not known him so well, she never would have caught it. Elain didn’t ask if he was happy, given the truth so stark before her.

She simply did not care.

“Will you help us?” she asked, ready to be done. The answer was simple. Yes or no.

“And if I don’t?”

“We’ll do it without you,” Elain replied, turning her back to look at Jurian, Azriel, and Azrina. It was dismissive and casual, the graceful boredom of true-born, fae nobility. She saw the corner of Azriel’s lips twitch, as if it amused him to see her so callously dismiss a man that clearly held himself in such high esteem. 

“Where will you gather the forces?”

“Scythia,” Jurian said with more confidence than anyone in the room felt. But Elain turned again, drinking him in one last time. He had haunted her for so long, his face the only thing she thought of more times than not. Had he always seemed so severe? So cowardly? Tucked behind his high walls, in a grove of ash? A ring of iron he knew was useless gripping a finger meant to symbolize love and fidelity? She’d come to him in the worst moments of her life and he’d never spared her a second glance.

Hadn’t cared if she’d lived or died. He’d merely cast her aside, as though she’d wanted this life. It had always burned her, and for years Elain had written and re-written speeches in her mind of what she’d say to convince him otherwise. How she’d make him see that what she’d wanted was him, for as much time as she was allotted.

And never once had it ever occurred to her that perhaps that sentiment was not returned. That Graysen was too scared, too cowardly to ever love her the way she’d loved him. What was love, without bravery? He wouldn’t have gone to war for her—Elain knew that with certainty, because he could have. He could have fought to have her, could have defied society and convention and their very customs and prejudices to have her, and he’d cast her aside. Even when she’d gone to him and confessed he had her heart—always—he’d tossed her aside like a cheap, replaceable thing.

Only now did he understand that perhaps it hadn’t been true, and still he stood here with his cold eyes, demanding she beg, if only to soothe his wounded ego. Elain would beg for Lucien. She would get on her knees and ask for his help if nothing else would save him. There was still enough hope that Elain could maintain her dignity. 

She thought Lucien would understand if she told him she couldn’t muster this one last humiliation. 

“We have enough,” Azriel finally said, filling the silence with his gruff voice. “If you wish to sit on the sidelines—”

“Like a coward!”Arina interjected, rising on her tiptoes to look menacing over one of Azriel’s flared wings. A ghost of a smile whispered over his face, as if she’d said the very thing he’d been thinking.

“You asked to speak with Elain, you know what she wants. Grant it—or don’t. We’re done wasting time.”

Elain was grateful when Arina grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards the door. She felt like she’d lived a thousand lives in the last day—they’d executed Beron the morning before, and now she stood before Graysen, pleading with him to help her get Lucien back. It was more than just the threat that Lucien would be forced to free Koschei, of which Elain suspected he might have to in order for her to truly damage the box so he was mortal—and killable. 

Jurian yanked open the door, clearly disappointed Graysen would leave humans out of the fight in favor of the fae. Face hidden in shadow, Elain understood how important it was to the human General that humanity be well represented when the stories were told. 

“Wait–!” Graysen’s voice echoed off the walls, following them into the narrowed foyer. “Your High Lord will winnow us in?”

Azriel assessed him coolly. “He will.”

“We’ll be ready at dawn.”

And that was that. Graysen shoved past them without a second glance, the first one to step into the cool summer night. The four of them watched him go, their displeasure surely burning a hole in his back.

“Is that all the time we have?” Arina whispered once Graysen was out of earshot. “A night?”

“Any more would be a waste,” Azriel replied, guiding them out onto the porch. Jurian seemed to agree.

And so did Elain.

LUCIEN: 

Lucien waited for Vassa to slip through the bedroom door, his leg jangling nervously. She’d been pacing the world just above the lake all morning, dragging a trail of fire through the sky as they waited. Time was against them—Lucien had his power back and could, as he’d proven when he’d taken a turret off the far end of the fortress, unspell the magic of his ancestors. 

Blood was all that was required, the very same coursing his veins. He could have undone Koschei right that moment had he felt like it. The only thing sparing Lucien the inevitable was Koschei’s distinct lack of knowledge regarding the ancestor who’d bound him.

Vassa slipped in, exhausted like she always did. Neither of them slept, waiting for the day their lives were so casually wiped from the world. 

“Something is happening,” she whispered, ignoring Lucien on the bed for the window just behind him. “He’s gathering forces.”

“Forces?” Lucien asked. He hadn’t seen another living creature outside of the three of them. 

“His magic,” she breathed, as if it should be obvious. “He’s pulling more of it, reshaping for a fight.”

“Then it’s over,” he said dully, gripping the blankets as the realization washed over him. He’d free Koschei, damning the world and perhaps worst of all, he would never see his mate again.

It was such a selfish thought, a self-pitying feeling to know that he would have given anything to just tell her what he’d been trying for so long to say.

Elain, I—

And she’d politely let him off the hook, each time agreeing, “I know.”But she didn’t, because he hadn’t said so. He’d kept the words leashed behind his teeth, certain she’d never want to hear him say those words. 

“I don’t think so,” Vassa interrupted, primed for a fight. Vassa would go down swinging, and Lucien suspected she intended to take her with him. “If his escape was an assured thing, he wouldn’t be fortifying. He rebuilt the tower you wrecked, wrapping it in his slimy magic.”

“What are you saying?”

“I think something unplanned is happening, and he’s reacting,” she said, turning to look at Lucien. “Someone—or something—is coming, and he didn’t expect that. I know he always meant to fight a war in Prythian, where there were more factors he could control.”

Lucien forced himself to think carefully. To be logical. High Lords would move to defend their own territories and people, breaking lines and abandoning alliances if it meant seeing their own power laid to ruin. Koschei could play them off one another—separate them and force them to fight seven wars on seven different fronts.

“Beron is dead,” Lucien reminded her, the wheels spinning in his mind. “He’ll expect Autumn to be weakened, pulling them from the fight.”

“Are they?”

Lucien scoffed. “Eris is young, perhaps, to a death lord, but he’s hardly unseasoned. He’d rally. He’d–”

Lucien swallowed the words he’d been about to say with such confidence. He’d come. 

“What if they coming?” she whispered, daring to look out at the dark sky again. Her fingers gripped the stone, scanning as if she’d see a terrifying, winged army just beyond. “He has no more moves left to play, at least not in secret.” 

“That doesn’t mean he couldn’t play them well,” Lucien reminded her. After all, Vassa was only a pawn in his bid to get to Lucien. The two turned to look at each other, and he wondered if Vassa had realized what he had only just.

“When I break his spell, you’ll be freed, too.”

“I won’t leave you here,” she said, courageous until the very last. Lucien shook his head, because the humans needed someone just. Someone fair, who put them above everything else.

“You must.”

She opened her mouth as if she might respond, only to close it as that same realization swept over her. There were other things to consider besides their time in captivity and their shared friendship. Vassa could not think like that—and neither could Lucien.

“Well,” he finally said, his voice ringing with hollow finality. He pulled at the bond in his chest, wishing Elain was awake.

She pulled back with an immediacy that made his blood sing. Somewhere in the world, his mate was safe. She was free. Lucien needed her to stay that way, even as creeping realization wormed its way against the back of his neck. Elain was unlikely to keep to the sidelines—was likely the driving force, in her stubborn, unyielding way, of the whole affront to start with.

It should have scared him. Lucien wanted to be angry. 

He felt nothing but relief. He trusted her sisters and her friends to temper the worst of her impulses and remind her that dying served no purpose, and deprived the world of her very presence.

And still.

And still.

Knowing she would come at all, that she would try and claw her way back to him made Lucien feel alive in a way he hadn’t in centuries. Finally, after riddled with his despair, his self-loathing, his insecurities, Lucien felt like he had some divine purpose. As though the suffering had all been for something, had been dragging him kicking and screaming directly to her. 

As someone worthy.

Lucien rose to his feet, joining Vassa at the window. “It doesn’t seem possible he’s left anything to chance.”

“He can’t control everything. Only himself,” Vassa murmured in response. “There are too many of us now—he can’t hold that many strings.”

“He can’t fight a war on every front,” Lucien said in response. “Surely even he has a weakness. Some very killable heart, perhaps?”

“Maybe that’s what he keeps touching under his cloak,” Vassa joked. “It’s just an open hole in his chest.”

Their eyes met, a silent question passing between them. Lucien didn’t have to speak a word to send Vassa scurrying away—watchful, as she was so good at. It was desperate—one last attempt at thwarting what was almost certainly their inevitable conclusion. Lucien would die and Vassa freed, only to succumb to the dark reign of Koschei. 

They wouldn’t let history say they hadn’t tried. And when Lucien left his bedroom in the keep just before dawn, pulled by the shadowed whisperings of the Death Lord himself, Vassa waited just in the hall, her lips forming two silent words. 

Spelled box. 

She inclined her head in a familiar direction, to the once ruined portion of the castle Lucien had once been caged in. Vassa slipped away, fierce determination warring with what looked almost like an apology. Lucien didn’t stick around to let her vocalize it. They all had their parts to play—his was this.

Koschei sat rigid in the same high-backed chair at the long table, laden still with too much food. Unnecessary, given what was coming. Bone-white hands laid calmly on the stone, framing an empty plate with skin stretched unbearably tight over his joints.

“An army gathers just outside the mist,” Koschei told Lucien, his words lacking the usual emotion. It was merely a statement, those Lucien thought there was some puzzlement to his expression, as if for all his meticulous calculations, he had not foreseen this. “They do not accept death as readily as you do.” Lucien heaved a sigh as he fell into his chair, pulling whatever he could reach towards him. It was a last meal, even as his mind turned over Vassa’s words.

Spelled box. 

Containing what? And if he managed to unbind it, would he make things better or worse? 

“I realize your education is incomplete,” Koschei continued, leaning forward as Lucien began to eat. “Raised wrong, you do not understand your significance.”

“Does it matter?” Lucien asked, certain it made little difference here at the end of things. 

Koschei cocked his head. “Of course it matters. Why you, instead of another? Generations of Spell-Cleavers have existed since the first…any might have done. I have waited for you.”

Lucien forced himself to swallow. “Because my line spelled you the first time.”

“Your line spelled me the first time,” he agreed, reclining back in his chair. It was as if Lucien’s willingness to play along, to listen to this story, had settled him. “Bound me to this lake, to this fortress as punishment and…perhaps…as a joke. I have never truly known why Apollion spared me when so many others did not. His magic, drained from him in his ultimately foolish endeavor, spared me the fate of so many other of my siblings. Trapped, yes…but dead, no.”

A thrum in Lucien’s blood made Lucien think that somewhere, he’d heard this all before. 

Koschei, unaware of how Lucien’s senses were awakening, continued to speak. Lost in memory, he paid Lucien little mind. “We knew the fae were getting stronger—harnessing the magic of the land, the sea, the sky much like we had once done. We’d grown greedy and were bored with unchecked rule. Your kind was little more than a sea floating rat—able to see and untangle spells, we thought. A little trick and little more.”

Lucien’s heart pounded in his chest, steady like a drum. “Apollion was guided by a prophecy–by love.” There was no disgust, no derision to the word. Only distaste, and perhaps confusion. Koschei, who was not a creature with a true soul as far as Lucien could tell, didn’t understand the lengths a person might be willing to go for such a potent emotion. And he understood, right then, why the gathering army confused him. Why hadn’t they chosen to stay and protect themselves, forsaking their kinsman? Beron had been willing to do so, after all. Beron had handed over a child he’d raised with no feeling at all—surely they were all like him.

But they were like Elain. Burning with feeling, with the willingness to try if for no other reason than loving the world and each other was all they really had. All they could cling to, could steady themselves again. 

“Seers are rare—and Apollion let one convince him to bind me. Swore there was a way.”

“She was right, it seems,” Lucien replied, abandoning his food entirely to hear this story. A Seer and a Spell-Cleaver had begun this.

And Lucien knew why his blood was humming. It was her. Outside in that waiting army, coming back for him to finish what their ancestors had begun thousands of years before. He had to force himself not to react, to retain his mask of boredom. 

Koschei didn’t smile. “She was. And so they came—Apollion and his Cassandra. She promised me knowledge of the world, promised to tell me all she knew if I would spare her family from my hunger. I had such an appetite back then. Your magical little souls make the finest of meals.”

“You agreed?”

Koschei nodded, ignoring the way the sky began to slip from violet to cerulean as the sun broke through the haze. “How could I resist? I agreed, and she came with her lover, who cursed me to this lake for eternity—and lost his life doing so. She’d thought she could save him. She didn’t realize…as I’m sure you’ve come to—you cannot have it all.”

Their eyes met, Koschei’s words a warning. Lucien discarded it, unwilling to trust that Koschei would be honest with him when so much was riding on everything going exactly as he planned.

“So, what? You’ve been here?”

“I’ve been here,” Koschei agreed. “Heartbroken Cassandra settled among the humans, passing her line through them in an effort to prevent another tragedy. Humans do not feel the magic as your kind do. No mating bonds, as she and Apollion had. No prophecy. The architect of her own ruined legacy as a speaker of false prophecies. She was so afraid I might need another…but not so afraid she didn’t wind that thread through generations of ignorant humans.”

Feyre. Cursebreaker, destined to save them from Amarantha. Her sisters, able to withstand the Cauldron, and Elain—

“I’ve been pulling those threads since before you were born,” Koschei murmured, watching Lucien piece it all together. “Your mating bond has been thrumming through the world far longer than your own father has lived. Waiting for just the right fingers to pluck at it, to draw you near. Little Cassandra, for all her ploys, never imagined her once children, so far removed, might one day become fae again. Destiny is a tricky thing—your kind has never truly understood it.”

“You don’t need her,” Lucien said quickly, betraying himself. 

Koschei nodded. “No. I only ever needed you. She merely put you in place.”

“You’ll spare her,” Lucien said. It wasn’t a question. 

“And what will you give me in return?”

The board was set. Lucien knew Koschei was primed for his words, for the promise, and so he chose his words as carefully as he could.

“I will give you an end to all of this.”

Koschei only smiled. “Let's begin.”

ELAIN:

Dawn broke just over the horizon when he went to find him. Dressed in golden sandals laced up to her knees, and a leather-skirted pteruges embroidered in gold, Elain felt like a princess of Day Court. Her hair had been carefully pulled from her face in equal rows to create a pretty ponytail more ceremonial than functional. The white leathered breastplate, etched with a rising sun over her chest, and the band of gold over her arms, spoke of Elain’s allegiance. 

And who shielded her from all accountability when it came to the brazen slaughter of a High Lord. Helion Spell-Cleaver had taken one look at the furious Eris Vanserra and with a wry smile, said, “High Lord.”

He’d gotten an answering snarl in response. Elain wondered if Eris’s reasons for hating Helion extended to Arina, left behind in Day as a last defense of the city, should they fail here. Elain could untangle the complicated history of those two once she had Lucien back—once they were safe. 

“You didn’t want me to see that crown,” Elain said by way of greeting, standing beside Helion as they waited for the mist to fall. It would be Nesta, with the remnants of the death power still clinging to her veins, that pulled it down. Elain could see her eldest sister in the dark leathers of the Valkyries, flanked on either side by Gwyn and Emerie as she stood against it. Head cocked, studying it like a long-forgotten friend.

“No,” Helion agreed, gold eyes coming to rest on her. “I wanted to see if the blade would call to you.”

Cassandra’s dagger was strapped to her belt, the only weapon Elain carried.

“Why not just say that?” she asked with more than a little frustration. “Why the secrets?”

“Killing Beron still serves my purposes,” Helion told her, shadows flickering over his expression. “And I can’t be caught sending assassins into neighboring territories. That had to be all you.”

“I would have kept your secret,” Elain told him, as if there weren’t creatures who could read minds. As if Helion needed just enough plausible deniability to keep his home safe. He only nodded, a silent thank you, even if it no longer mattered. 

“Will it work now?” she asked, her insides roiling. Just beyond that heavy curtain was Lucien, still alive even if he’d stopped pulling back on their bond. Something like resignation was hanging between them—he’d made a choice.

She hated to think what choice he’d made, likely on her behalf, without even consulting her first. If Lucien had decided on self-sacrificial bullshit, she’d dig him right back up just so she could kill him all over again. 

“They say Cassandra was mad,” Helion told her, his eyes far away. “She said so too, at the end. The journals they recovered were the scribblings of someone lost—she claimed to have lied about it all, that her visions were little more than the wishes of a female trying to achieve greatness.”

Elain felt her stomach sink. “Was she?”

He exhaled. “She had enough presence of mind to leave behind documents, even if they prevented anyone from looking too closely for wherever she vanished. They say it was her prophecy that led to Koschei being bound to begin with. One of the first Spell-Cleavers, if you believe the stories. Guided here on fragments and hope.”

Elain’s heart pounded. A Seer and a Spell-Cleaver had begun this? She blinked away the urge to cry, to push away that golden thread of fate that clung so tight to her ribcage. It was a war and it always had been—but it was a meeting of two souls looking for each other across time and space. Elain’s body ached at the thought. Even if it hadn’t been them, they were always meant to find each other. All the suffering, the misery, it was all worth it to bring her to him. 

“I’ll winnow you to the front,” Helion told her, watching as silver flames danced over Nesta’s palms. “And destroy the wards. After that…”

Elain swallowed. After that, she’d have to hope she understood enough—that her visions on how to end this were right. “I won’t fail.” She had to believe that, needed blind faith to get her through the fear racing through her. So much could go wrong, especially know that Elain knew that it was wildly believed Cassandra, the person whose dagger she held, was a liar. It occurred to Elain just as the mist fell, that this might be one last trick. Koschei, luring her in for some piece of his plan she hadn’t considered.

Reckless. The whole thing was reckless and still Elain didn’t care. As the warm winnow pushed at her ribs, Elain felt relief that her separation from Lucien was nearly over. Whatever happened next, they would greet it together.

Just as they’d always been meant to.

A terrible roaring filled the silence before she or Helion ever touched the sandy bank of the lake. He’d clearly been ripped from the air too early, eyes wild as the pair tumbled backwards. He shielded her as something blasted around them, drawing a pained moan from his throat. It wasn’t the sound Elain wanted to hear erupt from a male that exuded the sort of raw power Helion did.

“He’s free,” Helion panted, twisting to look overhead. The sky was blotted in endless, unrelenting dark, broken only from the frazzled static of magics pent up too long. Neither of them moved, staring at the ancient magic unleashed on a new world. She could feel it like oil balancing atop water, too heavy to fully sink into the soil. 

Helion reached around Elain, ripping at the wards keeping Elain out—if they even existed anymore.

“Go,” Helion ordered, pulling her to her feet. Neither of them spoke the truth, though the solid second they held the others gaze, the same fear washed through them.

Lucien had freed Koschei. 

Elain’s stomach twisted as she scrambled, running for the iron doors blown open when Koschei had escaped. She wasn’t supposed to be looking for Lucien. She was supposed to be looking for that box, but all Elain could think of was Lucien. He was the whole point—everything she’d done had been for him. 

The bond was still there, drowned by the roaring and the resulting screams and singing metal of a battle that would be ultimately futile. The combined power of all seven courts might hold him off—might keep him from immediately sweeping through the continent, but eventually Rhys and Feyre would flicker, drained entirely. The rest would fall like dominoes. Koschei only had to batter against them like waves against rocks, weathering each new attack until they were exhausted and unable to continue on.

Time was against her. 

Elain ran through dark halls, guided by only flickering torches blowing in a phantom breeze. Occasionally they flickered out, leaving her blind in the dark. She skidded into an open dining hall, the only furniture a long, stone carved table filled with rotting food. Flies buzzed, picking at the carcass of what had once been a chicken, while maggots crawled over plates and cups.

Elain stared in horror, her stomach turning. Where was Lucien? She tried to scream his name, but her voice was lost to the world, drowned in an endless roar. Elain twisted, her panic making her reckless and foolish. She was afraid, so deeply afraid that she no longer cared about anything or anyone. Not as she turned, guided by the gold glowing in her veins. It took her to a spiraling tower and stairs slick with a copper scented substance. Blood, it was blood—

“Lucien,” Elain cried, throwing herself through the door to the iron bars of a cage. She’d seen this—seen him, curled just inside. His once vibrant, warm skin was ashen, too pale to belong to the male she loved. For a moment, Elain thought he was dead, eyes squeezed tight as they were. His hair spilled around a pulsating wound, caked in the same substance dripping down the spiraling stairs.

His golden eye opened. “Elain?” he whispered. 

Elain gripped the bars, tugging uselessly. She watched him pull himself towards her, wrapping a callused hand over her own as he forced himself to sit.

“You’re hurt,” she said, not giving him a chance to speak. He was dying. Elain could see the inevitable conclusion to the slashes carved against Lucien’s chest—like a hundred lashes. Elain crushed her mouth against his own, tasting the salt and metal dried against his mouth.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” she said, some part of her settled now that they were together. “I’m going—”

“Elain,” Lucien managed, a heavy finality to his words. He reached just behind, and pulled the thing she’d been looking for. The box from her visions, thudding to the floor when Lucien could no longer stand to touch it.

“It's his soul,” Lucien said, each word thicker than the last. “Without it, he can’t die. Apollion he…” Lucien took a deep, shuddering breath. “He gave us an out. He knew he was going to die, he—”

It didn’t matter. Elain didn’t care, not as she wrenched at the bars, twisting with all her immortal strength until she could force herself between them. Elain squeezed herself in, sucking in a heavy breath before collapsing just beside him. 

“As long as he has it, he can’t die,” Lucien told her, his face inches from her own. “Take it to—”

“To me,” Elain interrupted gently, rising on her knees as she pulled Cassandra’s dagger from her belt. “To us,” she added, not daring to look at the flesh hanging from Lucien’s chest. He would survive. They all would. The battle was early and everyone was still strong. 

“When this is all over,” Elain told him, her hands shaking in fear as she used one to lift the latch of the box and the other to raise the dagger, “I want that time you promised. Decades in Summer, in Day, in Dawn.”

“You can have anything,” Lucien told her, pressing his forehead to her temple. “I am yours and I always have been. I always will be.”

“You are mine,” she repeated as a sharpened awareness clawed at her neck. “And I am yours.”

“He’s coming, Elain. You have to do it now—”

The lid opened, revealing a mass of swirling silver flickering against a writhing mass of inky black. The world around them ripped, like a yawning mouth looking to devour them. She could feel what Lucien had, the thundering steps of a creature newly freed only to realize its death was close at hand.

“Now,” Lucien whispered, lips to her cheek.

“Together,” she added, wishing she was less afraid. His fingers closer around her own, holding her while Elain p

lunged the dagger into the center of the box. 

A deafening, brutal scream rang around them, the agony of a long-held life ripping through Elain’s very sanity. Blood poured from the box, drenching her legs and still Elain twisted, digging that knife viciously through the box until she’d split the wood in two. Arms wrapped around Elain’s body, pulling her against Lucien as the tower began to shake.

“He’s going to pull the fortress apart,” Lucien yelled, his voice drowned by the screams. Lucien pulled her down, his body bracing itself for that first crash as a stone clipped the cage they were both cowering in. Elain swore she felt warmth—the smell of crisp air and crunching leaves so reminiscent of Autumn. A memory she couldn’t quite place, and a time she’d just only lost.

Something struck her, and Elain was grateful to lose herself to the dark.

[riiviir]

hey guys so I just started reading Flatland by Edwin A. Abbott and OMG AHSBNSBSBSNSNBSHZHSHDBFHGGHFHGRJ2KSHSBSNSK AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE THINKING ABOUT THE RELATIVITY BETWEEN DIMENSIONS!!!!!!

[ethersierra]

The unbearable burden of knowing that to see the Ethersea fic I want to in the world I have to be the one to write it......

[nutzworth]

i got into homestuck the summer of 2020. ive had few phases of interests due to my years-long obsession over first warrior cats(?), then undertale, then homestuck. but during the years of about 2018-2020 i was lost... between undertale and homestuck... wandering...

coincidentally smplive came up in 2019 and i LOVED IT!!!!!!! and well this guy from smplive slimecicle has a dnd podcast how awesome. i listen to the whole thing. just roll with it: fated. CONSUMED. easily my favorite thing for a few months. i LOVE br'aad and taxi and velrisa. i was saving fanart from the jrwi discord and saving it to a private discord server

then summer of 2020 i read homestuck and during that summer i wasnt SUPER into it. i was still smplive brained / jrwi brained. i was in it deep. then i finished homestuck and fell into it and for 4 years ive been head over heels with dirk strider and jake english and jade harley and such

now.... now the summer of 2024. i begin listening to just roll with it: riptide. i didnt think anything could beat my obsession about homestuck but... um. haha. im getting kind of CRAZY about just roll with it chat. its kind of SCARING me. i love them A LOT.

i just think thats funny... being into jrwi: fated and then leaving to go crazy about homestuck for 4 years. then eventually coming back to jrwi: riptide. maybe itll pass in a few months and ill have another 4 years of uninterrupted homestuck craze. who knowse... im excited to find out... i love just roll with it. thats the summary

[nomaishuttle]

aughhhhh i wish i had books 2 read i wanna read books so bad rn 🤓 <- i look like this. 2 pictures of me 👇

[todayisafridaynight]

Literally will sit and rewatch the episode of Super Salaryman the first photo is a production image from just to see Tsutsumi's character super excited to see the monkeys <3 love him dearly and the show as a whole big serotonin boost <3 also less Hostage Situation shot of the second one

AND OKAY I WOULD'VE TOLD YOU ABOUT RASEN IF I KNEW YOU LIKED ADO THE SONG S L A P S AND SO DOES THE INTRO SEQUENCE IN GENERAL

One Google Search Later how could you not tell me bout this show sooner the premise sounds so fuckin cute hold ONNNN 😭😭

OH BUT YEAH MY ADO FANATICISM WASNT EVER MADE PUBLIC IG LMAO yeah i love her :)) the intro IS mundo cool (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)(;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

[chisungie]

.

[loonylupinblack3]

First Win

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: in which Lando's first win helps the two of you finally get together

Warnings: swearing, my utter HAPPINESS AND AWE THAT LANDO WON, also not edited bc i wanted to post it as soon as possible

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: you guys dont UNDERSTAND how fucking happy i am im literally sobbing oh my GOD

You were pushing your way through the crowd, trying to find Lando, all the while your heart was fucking soaring. You were so proud of him, probably one of your closest friends, finally achieving this incredible success in his career. He deserved all of it and more, and you were so proud of him.

Getting P8 yourself, you weren’t upset with your score, though you could have done better, but it seemed insignificant compared to Lando’s win and how excited you were for him. You knew you probably wouldn’t get to talk to him until much later; he was the star of the day, a very busy man with hundreds of people demanding his attention, but you hoped for at least a look of him, maybe if you were lucky a smile, to show your utter joy of him winning.

The grid was packed, however, and even with your status as a driver it was still a challenge getting through the swarms of people. You pushed and shoved, mumbling apologies, almost desperate to see your friend before he went on the podium.

You and Lando were close. Even for co-workers you guys had a special relationship. You just clicked, able to understand each other without having to work for it. Even only actually knowing each other for a few years you felt you’d known him for a lifetime.

Sure, there may have been some… other feelings towards him that you harboured, but you refused to let them risk your friendship with Lando so you kept them hidden, shoved deep inside you and pretended to be ignored, even though in reality they seemed to have a chokehold on you.

You didn’t know if Lando felt the same and honestly weren’t sure if you wanted to know. You already had this incredible relationship with him, this understanding you shared with no one else, and you weren’t willing to risk it for anything, even to end the aching longing you felt sometimes when looking at him.

You finally managed to push your way through the crowd, now at the edge of a couple fences blocking the part of the grid where only certain F1 employees were able to be. Usually you wouldn’t have been able to go, what with you receiving an eighth position and not a podium, but you were determined to see Lando closer, maybe even give him a quick hug.

You were just so fucking proud of him, and you didn’t know what to do with the overwhelming feeling. He’d opened up to you multiple times in the past, confessing his feelings of failure, of being unable to get a win and how much that affected him, how shameful he was because of it. You knew how much his lack of wins haunted him and his career, so to gain a win, to achieve something like this, it was truly amazing, and your pride for him was overflowing. 

You managed to wheedle your way through the fences, using your driver status and known close friendship with Lando to your advantage, slipping through and immediately looking around for the Miami Grand Prix winner.

You followed the sound of cheering, rounding a corner to find the massive group of Mclaren employees behind a small fence, with Lando on top of them crowd surfing, laughing and looking like the happiest man alive.

Today he was exactly that.

You stood to the side, grinning like a maniac seeing Lando so happy. Your heart was near bursting, you couldn’t stop smiling even if you wanted to. You stayed silent though, not wanting to drag attention to yourself and get kicked out, but seeing him so fucking happy was more than enough for you.

So when Lando distractedly glanced around, a joyous smile on his face, and saw you, his smile widening, your heart warmed. You told yourself it was nothing big, but when he left his team to walk over to you, jog over, actually, your smile turned even bigger.

“Congratulations,” you exclaimed before leaping into his arms, wrapping your own tightly around his neck. His own hands came up to hug you back, holding you tightly against him. “I’m so fucking proud of you Lando.”

Lando squeezed you tighter, still not letting go. You were more than content to stay in his arms, pressing your head into the crook of his neck, ignoring the flashing cameras that would be following Lando for the rest of the day.

When the two of you eventually pulled back, however reluctantly, Lando was beaming. He looked gorgeous like that, genuinely happy, nothing able to bring down his mood. He was riding the high of winning, still heavily influenced by the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Maybe what was why he kissed you, in front of millions of people, taking them and you by surprise. Or maybe it was because he was having the perfect fucking day, and having you in his arms would have made it all the more better.

Either way you were certainly taken off guard as Lando stared at you for a split-second, eyes tracing your face before they landed on your lips, and then the next second he was leaning in and pressing his lips against yours.

There was an onslaught of noise as he did it, the cameras going crazy, people yelling and cheering, yet it was all distant. All you could focus on was Lando’s soft lips against yours, dragging his mouth across your own.

You kissed him back without thinking, your hands snaking back around his neck. His hand gripped your waist, tugging you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue flicking your lower lip and forcing you to swallow a moan lest you want the whole world to hear it.

Lando had the gall to grin against your lips, no doubt hearing your gasp before you could muffle it completely. You pulled back, giving him a ‘what the fuck man’ stare and he just shrugged, keeping his hand firmly around your waist.

You shook your head but your emotions were in overdrive, everything inside you screaming for more. You pressed your head into the crook of his neck again, hearing his soft chuckle as his hands roamed your back.

“We are having a very serious talk after this,” you whispered in his ear.

He paused, before whispering back, “good or bad?”

You pulled back to stare at Lando, his curls sticking to his forehead from sweat, his eyes alight with an excitement you hadn’t seen in a while, his face slightly red from exertion and happiness.

You smiled at him. “Definitely good.”

Lando grinned and pulled you back for another kiss, blatantly ignoring the paparazzi around you. He murmured into your lips, “I’m so fucking lucky.”

You couldn’t help but ask, “how so?”

He grinned against your lips again. “Winning the race and the girl in one day.”

[feenoire]

Thorned Innocence

dark!joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

rating: explicit 18+ minors dni

word count: 4.1k

warnings: DDDNE, non-consensual rough sex, coercion, virginity loss, cunnilingus, substance use and drugging, age difference (19/50).

summary: on christmas eve, everything takes a dark turn when your sister has to leave, leaving you alone with her husband.

a/n: i never planned to write this, but the idea has been stuck in my mind. as a reminder, this is purely fictional, and i do not condone nor romanticize anything like this in real life. if this story is bothering you in any way, please take care of yourself. your well-being is the most important thing <𝟑. this is my first time writing smut btw and i tried my best :) also, im sorry for being inactive lately, everything keeps falling apart. ive been feeling overwhelmed and tired, but im trying to focus on writing because it helps me cope when everything feels out of control. i appreciate your support and patience, it means the world to me. thank you 𐙚

dividers by @strangergraphics

The snow falls softly outside the window, blanketing the ground in a soft, powdery white. It’s Christmas night, and the kitchen is filled with the comfortable glow of warm, dim light. The scent of freshly baked cookies fills the air as you carefully shape the dough into little deer for your sister, Ana, and her husband, Joel.

The cozy crackle of the fire in the living room adds to the peaceful atmosphere. Your heart is full of love and excitement as you can’t wait to share the little deer-shaped cookies with them.

You’ve been living under their roof for a month now, ever since your dad passed away. Your sister insists on it, not wanting you to be alone in your parents’ house, even though you’re nineteen and perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. She can’t bear the thought of you being all alone, even if you’re an adult.

She’s almost like a mother to you, despite the twenty-year age gap. Since you were a baby, she’s been there, always taking care of you to help your dad. Filling the void left by your mother, who passed away giving birth to you. That was until Joel married her when you were ten, and then she left.

Sometimes, it feels like it’s your fault that your mother isn’t here, and as a child, you would wake up in the middle of the night, crying, overwhelmed with guilt. But your sister was always there to calm you, wrapping you in her arm, and reassuring you that it wasn’t your fault. She would remind you that your mother’s love was an act of sacrifice and that you were never to blame. Her soothing words always helped lift the weight from your heart.

You love your sister deeply, and you often feel that the least you can do is show your gratitude in small, meaningful ways. Baking those cookies for her and Joel is your way of expressing how thankful you are for everything they’ve done for you.

“What are you doing, doll?” Ana asks, stepping into the kitchen with a warm smile.

You don’t hear her footsteps, and it’s almost as if she’s purposely creeping up behind you. Startled, you quickly turn around and hide the baked cookies behind your back. “Nothing,” you say, trying to act casual.

“It’s not nothing. I can smell it from upstairs. Move!” she says with a playful laugh, gently nudging you aside to peek behind you.

“No!”

Her eyes light up as she spots the deer-shaped cookies. “Oh my god, this is so cute!”

“You’re not supposed to see it now,” you say, a hint of disappointment in your voice as you cross your arms, a small pout forming on your lips.

“Well, I already saw it. Can I try one?” she asks with a teasing smile, reaching for a cookie.

“It was supposed to be a surprise, and now it’s ruined,” you reply, trying to hide a smile.

“Wait… you made this for me?”

You bow your head, trying to hide your rosy cheeks, and bite your lip before speaking softly, “Yeah… I made this for you and Joel.” Your voice is quiet, almost shy.

“You’re too sweet,” she says, her voice filled with affection. She looks at you with an expression full of love. “You didn’t have to do this, but it means so much.”

“I wanted to,” you say softly. “It’s the least I can do… for everything you’ve done for me.”

She smiles warmly and pulls you into a hug. You always love the feeling of being wrapped in her arms—it’s a warmth that feels like coming home.

“I love you, doll.”

You smile, your voice barely above a whisper as you try not to get too emotional, “I love you, too.”

“For god’s sake, just try the cookies,” you say with a playful laugh as you gently push her away, your cheeks still warm.

“Fine,” she says, grabbing one of the warm cookies and taking a bite, then she grins. “This is amazing! You really outdid yourself.”

“Really? Thanks,” your cheeks turning a little pink under her praise.

Too caught up in the moment, you don’t realize Joel has been standing in the kitchen doorway, watching the two of you all this time. It isn’t until he coughs that you notice him, his brown eyes fixed on you.

“Honey, come over here and try the cookie she made!” Ana says excitedly. “She baked these just for us.”

“Really? Reckon it’s alright if I try one, sweetheart?” Joel asks you, his voice deep with a slow southern drawl.

“Yeah, actually they’re for both of you,” you say, smiling shyly.

Joel steps closer, his hand reaching for a cookie, the other gently resting on your waist as he stands behind you a little too long. The touch lingers for a moment before he pulls back, but you remain lost in the warmth of the moment with your sister, not noticing.

Joel looks at you and speaks, “You really know how to make somethin’ special.”

You look up at him, unaware that there’s more behind his words, something unspoken. “Thanks, Joel. It’s supposed to be eaten with cold milk to taste even better.”

You cannot help but miss your dad so much. But as you stand there, surrounded by your sister’s laughter, and Joel’s quiet presence, you find comfort. It feels like the warmth of family, a sense of belonging that you’ve longed for.

The sound of the phone ringing fills the room, breaking the peaceful moment. Ana reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone, glancing at the screen before answering. “Hello?”

Her facial expression shifts, her smile fading into something more urgent. Eyes widening slightly, eyebrows furrowing with concern.

“What is it?” Joel asks.

You kneel on the couch in the quiet living room, your chin resting on your crossed arms which you fold over the backrest. Watching your sister’s car grow smaller in the distance until it finally vanishes behind the thin lace curtains.

Meanwhile, Joel watches quietly from behind, secretly enjoying the sight of you at that moment, a twisted smirk slowly forming on his lips. His thoughts drifts, imagining the feel of the silken skin of your back and waist beneath his touch, savoring the vulnerability of your posture on the couch.

“Sweetheart,” he calls for you.

You turn around and sit down, looking up at him. He can see the tears shimmer in your eyes, threatening to fall, while your soft lips slightly pouty.

“She’ll probably be back ‘fore you even wake up,” Joel says gently as he tries to soothe you.

“I know, but it’s Christmas Eve,” you speak softly. “Why couldn’t they have called another doctor instead of her?”

“Most of ‘em are probably outta town now.”

Ana suddenly had to rush to the hospital after hearing about a car accident in the local town. Joel wanted to drive her, but she firmly urged him to stay behind, telling him that she didn’t want you to be left alone on such a night. As the door closed behind her, Joel couldn’t help but feel a dark sense of satisfaction being alone with you.

“You don’t have to be sad, I’m here, little girl,” he whispers softly. Joel slides his hand gently along your soft thigh as he kneels before you. You’re so beautiful up close, like a delicate porcelain doll—fragile, with a vision of innocence.

You smile softly, sadness in your eyes. “Thank you, Joel,” you whisper, and wrap your arms around him.

The feeling of your body pressed against his sends a shiver down his spine and stirs undeniable arousal within him. His pulse quickens and he aches for more, so he holds you tighter.

It’s not just desire—it’s a need, dark, and uncontrollable.

Joel had always seen you as his wife’s little sister. He’d watched you grow up from a distance, never once thinking of you in any way other than family, you were just a kid in his eyes—until you moved in with them.

You’ve grown up and blossomed into a lovely young woman. You’re beautiful in a way that feels dangerous, almost too much to bear, and it unsettles him. You’re still shy, still that quiet little girl, but there’s something new there, something he can’t look away from.

You’ve been consuming his thoughts for the last four weeks, invading his mind, even in his sleep. To him, you are both salvation and damnation.

Joel takes a deep breath, reluctantly pulling away. His big hands gently cradle your warm cheeks as he looks into your eyes. “How ‘bout we watch somethin’ you love? Got a go-to Christmas movie?”

“Edward Scissorhands?”

He chuckles, shaking his head with a playful grin. “That ain’t a Christmas movie, sweetheart.”

“Yes, it is!”

“I don’t know ‘bout that,” he says. “But if you wanna watch it, I’m all for it.”

The rosy smile returns to your face as you nod. “Okay.”

“Alright, c’mon.”

“I’m gonna put all the cookies in the jar first. Wait for me?”

Joel sits on the couch, remote in hand, pretending to focus on the screen, but his eyes dart to the doorway every few seconds. He hears your footsteps before he sees you, and his heart flutters. You walk in, holding a small bowl of the deer-shaped cookies.

His eyes trace every inch of you, and you’re utterly unaware of it. He loves the way your lips curve, the innocent tilt of your head, your eyes blinking, like a shy little creature who doesn’t even know how dangerous it is to be this close to him.

You place the bowl on the coffee table, and you settle beside him, close enough that he can feel the warmth of your body.

As time passes, Joel’s attention drifts away from the movie. Instead, it’s entirely on you. The way your smile lights up as you watch Kim dancing in the snowfall while Edward carves an angelic ice sculpture of her. The lace-trimmed strap of your top slips from your shoulders, revealing the gentle curve of your collar bones, which move rhythmically with each breath. Your leg brushes against his, sending a wave of heat through him.

Joel shifts uncomfortably. His hand moves, adjusting the growing tension in his jeans, and he pretends to cough.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he mutters. “Wait here.”

He leaves the room without looking at you, and all he hears is the faint sound of your soft voice saying, “Okay.”

Instead of heading to the bathroom, Joel makes his way to the kitchen. He takes a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet, and takes a long swig straight from the bottle, savoring the burn.

Convincing himself that this is something he must do, he steadies his breath. There you are, oblivious, sitting innocently on the couch. Tonight, he has you all to himself, and he’s not about to let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

Joel makes two cups of hot cocoa, the steam rising from the mugs. Then, he reaches into his back pocket, pulls out a bottle of Rohypnol, and crushes a pill between his fingers. He stirs the powder into your Peter Rabbit mug.

Again, he adjusts the growing tent in his jeans, the dark thrill of what he plans to do with you tonight coursing through him. A low groan escapes his lips at the sensation. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself before he grabs the mugs and heads back to the living room.

“Here, sweetheart, drink this.”

You happily take the mug from him, unaware of the danger hidden within. “Thanks, Joel!” You take a sip of the warm drink.

He returns to your side, his hand squeezes your thigh lightly. “Do you like it?” he asks with a hint of a smirk.

“Hmm, let’s try it with the cookie,” you say cheerfully, grabbing one for yourself and one for Joel, you smile innocent and unaware.

In twenty minutes’ time, he sees your eyes blinking slowly, the sleepiness overtaking you. The mug is empty in your hands.

A cruel smirk forms on his lips as he watches you in your vulnerable state. “C’mon, little girl, let’s go to your room.”

With unsettling calmness, he gently lifts your weak body, cradling you in his arms. He walks down the hall to your bedroom in the stillness of the cold night.

Your room feels dreamy and cozy, with its dim, soft, and golden light. There’s a bed with ruffled bedding, an antique wooden mirror, some pretty flowers on the dresser, and a porcelain doll sitting on your bed.

The chamber is delicate, reflecting you, Joel thinks.

He lays you down on your bed. His gaze, dark and predatory, moves over your smaller body, taking in every detail, memorizing the way you look beneath him—so beautiful and perfect.

Joel never wanted anything the way he wants you. You’ve awakened something within him—something dark and primal—that he never knew existed. It’s like a hunger that cannot be ignored, a need that must be fulfilled, or he’ll die.

He leans in, your breath warm against his skin.

“Joel,” you whisper, your drooping eyes locking with his.

Joel slowly but firmly crushes his lips against yours. He groans as he tastes the sweetness of your lips for the first time.

You begin to move beneath him in an attempt to get away, but it’s no use. He observes you struggling weakly, darkly pleased.

His kiss loses its tenderness and becomes rough and desperate. A soft whimper escapes your lips, and God, he loves that sound.

With merciless force, he pushes his tongue past your delicate lips, tasting and exploring while leaving a trail of moisture behind. The taste of you drives him wild, his grip tightens on your body.

“No…”

“It’s alright, little girl. It’s just me,” he says, his voice deep and strained with arousal.

Joel trails his lips down your neck. When he reaches the fluttering pulse at your throat, his teeth graze your flesh before he bites down, but not enough to leave a mark. Then, his tongue moves slowly, wetly, tasting your skin.

After a while, his hands move with deliberate care as he begins to undress you from your sleepwear.

Joel’s breath catches in his throat. You’re exquisite, every inch of you more perfect than he imagines. His eyes roam over your naked form, drinking in every detail. The curve of your soft breasts rises and falls with each breath.

“So pretty.”

He squeezes your breasts with his large hands and roughly sucks on your nipples, as though trying to coax something out. All the while, he ruts his hard cock against you.

The weak pressure of your hands against his shoulders and your soft whimpers, makes him groan. He can feel his cock throbbing painfully hard, pulsing beneath his jeans at the sensation.

“Joel… please.”

He leans back, pulling your nipple with him before releasing it with a soft pop, leaving trails of drool behind.

“You want more? Is that why you’re cryin’?”

He gently pushes your hair away from your tear-streaked face and he presses his lips against your damp cheeks, tasting the salt of your tears.

Then, he slowly removes your white ruched lace panties, noticing the dampness at the center. He laughs as he runs his fingers over the fabric before slipping them into his pocket.

You weakly try to close your knees, but Joel presses his fingers sharply into your skin, forcing them open. The pain makes you cry out, tears falling from your eyes.

“Pathetic,” he mutters under his breath.

Joel lets out a low groan at the sight of your little pussy. It’s glistening and swollen, and he knows that when he thrusts his massive cock inside, it will be searingly hot and impossibly tight.

“Well, look at that, such a pretty pussy, little girl,” he murmurs, his voice filled with disbelief and hunger. “And you’ve been keepin’ this from me?”

He uses his fingers to spread your folds, admiring the swollen little clit hidden beneath. It’s pulsing and gleaming in the dim light, soaking his finger.

Joel starts rubbing your swollen clit, and it doesn’t take long for you to become more wet and needy. Your tight hole clenches rhythmically around nothing as he rubs you faster, he savors the sight of it and your helpless cries.

“Jesus, baby, you’re soaking wet,” he chuckles darkly. “Ain’t nobody ever touched this sweet little pussy before, huh? So fuckin’ needy.”

“Stop,” you say breathlessly.

“Need to get my mouth on you.”

Captivated by the sight of your little cunt drooling all over your thighs, he pulls his finger away. You gasp and wail as he starts using his mouth and noisily slurping at your wet cunt.

It’s rare that he gets the chance to taste such a beautiful, untouched little pussy. And he’s going to savor every second of it.

He greedily laps at your wetness, pushing his tongue into your slit before assaulting your clit with hard and relentless strokes. Then, he lowers his face, pressing his nose into your clit as his tongue delves deeply into your core, forcing you open. His movements are wild, drilling through your cunt and pushing against your walls as his fingers painfully sink into your thighs.

He groans against you, swallowing all the sweet juice pouring from you, like a fountain of youth. “How the hell you taste this good, little girl?” he growls.

After a while, you’re trembling in his grip. Your sobs and pleas fill his ears as you weakly kick your feet against his back, your hands unable to move, futilely tugging at his salt-and-pepper hair as you cum. Your juices flooded his mouth and soaking the sheets beneath you.

“That’s my good girl.”

He feels the wetness of his precum staining his jeans, a growl escaping him as he quickly undoes his belt and takes off his pants to free his aching cock, desperate for release.

He retrieves his phone from his jeans pocket, presses record, and sets it on your bedside table, carefully angling it to capture every raw detail of the two of you before he begins.

Joel knows it’s going to hurt—his cock is massive, thick veins throbbing beneath the thin skin.

He ruts his hips against yours, his bulbous tip gathering your slickness along his hard cock. A soft whimper escapes your lips each time he brushes against your clit.

“So sensitive.”

Joel wraps the base of his girthy cock with one hand, the other finding your hip, holding you still as he lines his cock with your tiny hole and split you in half.

You whimper as you struggle with the overwhelming stretch of just the tip pressing past your entrance and start squirming. “Hurts!”

An animalistic groan escapes his lips as your pussy swallows his angry, red tip with a wet squelch and a tense pulse, stretching you open.

“You’re so goddamn tight, little girl. Fuckin’ made for me,” he grits his teeth, barely holding back.

“Hurts… stop.”

Your pretty face is flushed and streaked with tears as he watches you, lips red and swollen, whimpering in pain. He enjoys the way your face is contorted. “Be quiet, little girl.”

Joel inches his cock deeper, the earlier strokes of his tongue doing little to ease the intense stretch of your cunt around him. Patience wearing thin, he roughly forces his cock inside you in one go, nudging against your cervix, making you moan in pain.

Desire clouds his mind, blinding him to your well-being.

Your moan turns into a broken hiccup, followed by a soft sob as Joel starts to pound into your tight hole with a ruthless, brutal force.

“Joel, hurts,” you cry, your hands desperately clawing at his chest, muscles weak and useless.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, little girl,” he moans from the pleasure, his grip on your hips tightening. “Takin’ all of my cock so well. Such a good girl.”

Joel is in heaven. His eyes are closed as he focuses on the sensation of your hot, wet cunt wrapping tightly around his massive cock, his lips muttering incoherent praises for how perfect you feel. He moves faster and rougher, slamming into your little pussy with pure force, like a man possessed. “Perfect little cunt, all fuckin’ mine.”

“No, please, s-stop…”

Ignoring your pain and cries for him to stop, he continues to pound into you relentlessly, pushing you further beyond your limits. “I’m sorry, baby… it feels too good to stop.”

His darkened eyes trace every inch of you, your skin slick with sweat despite the cold weather. Your breasts bounce with each brutal trust, and his gaze locks on his cock buried deep in your swollen, red lips. The slick, blood-coated friction as he slides in and out of you fills the room with a sickening, lewd squelch, sending a shiver through him as his eyes flutter shut in dark pleasure, he lets out a low snarl.

“Look at that, little girl, we were made for each other,” his voice low and strained.

Your breath grows ragged, choking on sobs and moans, yet your back arches and hips lift, instinctively chasing his cock, your body betraying every shred of resistance.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Joel grins with dark satisfaction at the reaction he’s coaxed out of you. “Look at her, baby, drippin’ like a faucet, can’t even control herself.”

He bites back a groan, his hand sliding to your lower stomach, feeling the thick bulge of his cock pressing against his calloused palm with every deep, punishing thrust, each one slamming into your cervix with merciless force.

A warmth builds in your stomach. He grunts and curses under his breath, feeling your pussy clamping down on him, the tightness driving him wild as your body trembling as you near the edge.

“My little girl wanna cum?” he whispers in your ear, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek. “C’mon, baby, cum for me.”

“Joel,” you cry.

“I know, baby,” he grunts. “I know.”

Your body quivers, eyes half-lidded as they lock with his, mouth falls open, letting out a choked moan. He relentlessly pounds into your cunt, you squeeze tightly around him, your clit twitching and pulsing. He drives you to the edge, forcing you to squirt. The hot, slick release splashed against his abdomen and thighs.

“God damn!” he growls. “Oh, that’s it, baby… good girl.”

Joel kisses you deeply. A sense of pride and bliss fills him, knowing he’s able to make you squirt on your first time.

Still rock-hard, he keeps thrusting into you after your orgasm fades, consumed by the insatiable spell you have on him. Your pussy is like a drug to him, better than anyone Joel’s ever had.

You become a crying, trembling mess beneath him, overstimulated and shaking uncontrollably, unable to endure the overwhelming thrusts.

“T-too much.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ done with you yet,” he growls into your mouth. “You’ll take every damn second I give ya, and you’ll be beggin’ before I even think ‘bout stoppin’.”

Joel pulls out sharply, slapping your swollen pussy hard, making you squeak and whimper. He manhandles you, spinning your body around and pushing your face into the pillow. He grunts loudly as he enters you again, sliding deep before his grip tightens around your waist, each thrust more brutal and faster, chasing his own release.

His chest is flush to your back. He breathes in the floral scent of your skin, his nose grazing your neck as his thrusts lose their rhythm, becoming messy and desperate.

Your walls pulse and squeeze around him once more, desperately trying to milk him dry. “Don’t worry, little girl. Gonna pump you full of my cum.”

He feels lightheaded, chest heaving with each breath, sweat glazing his skin.

The sound of your muffled moans makes his cock twitch deep inside, pushing him closer to the edge. His body quivers as the pressure inside him peaks. With a final, punishing trust, a deep, guttural whimper escapes his throat as he cums deep inside you, painting your walls with a creamy, thick white, filling you to the brim.

Your nails faintly claw at his arm, your body quivering beneath him, as your orgasm washes over you for the third time, leaving you whimpering. His heat and wetness blend with yours as he holds you close.

“You’re all mine now, baby,” he growls softly. “I’ll make sure you feel every inch of me again.”

The pill he gave you will leave you with no memory of what he does. He honestly cannot wait to collect his own personal porn collection of you next time his wife leaves the house again.

[lore-smaus]

«I DON'T SPEAK TACO BELL» FT. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Shoko, Choso, Toji, Sukuna.

Summary: You so casually yell at them in Spanish and they have no clue how to act.

Tags: crackhead energy, cursing duh, translation for the one who can't understand duh!, freaky characters, this one is slightly connected to some smau lore lmao

A/N: Im done here. I had too much fun making this @saintkaylaa

Gojo Satoru:

“A ver, pendejito, tu te crees que soy una de tus amiguitas o que? A mi no me vengas con eso otra vez o te voy a dar un cantaso que vas a ver a Geto!" (lets see, dumbass. You think im one of your little friends? Dont come at me with that ever again or ill hit you so hard you'll see Geto!)

To say he was shocked was an understatement. He was beyond that point.

He knew you spoke Spanish, hell, he's seen you speak it. However, no matter how many times he listens to it, it will never not surprise him how fluently and easy you spoke it.

He apologized, even though he didn't understand anything, and made sure to not get on your nerves ever again. He was scared shitless.

Geto Suguru

Logically, he wasn't afraid of anything! Truly. Well, that was until you heard the girls referring to your non sorcerer family as monkeys. You sat them down, belt in hand and started shouting at them.

"Es que como se te ocurre! Monos?! A MI familia?! No no, es que tu eres imbécil! Y enfrente de las nenas!?" (What were you thinking! Monkeys?! MY family?! No no, you're an asshole! In front of the girls too!?)

The girls looked sheepishly at Geto, however, Geto had his eyes closed, almost praying, barely making noises. It wasn't his first time being shouted at in Spanish, however, it was the first time actually looking at you grabbing a belt. And with the way you talked about how your parents hit you when you were young with it? Oh yeah, he didn't even wanna move. So the girls, following the example, stayed still.

Rest assured, that day, Geto discovered he had ONE fear: you.

Nanami Kento

"Ruega a Dios que ese imbécil no se cruce en mi camino porque es que lo exorciso yo misma" (Pray to God so that imbecil don't cross paths with me because I'll exorcise him myself)

Truly, while Shoko attended Nanami, she could almost hear his heart palpitations because the way you fumed and complained, even pointing at him to reprimand him for his carelessness he was rather excited.

He knew you spoke and he tried his best to learn spanish however, he noticed that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to understand it. So he stayed silent during your 'lecture'. However, in his mind, he was trying to figure out what were you saying.

Shoko Ieiri

“Me importa un carajo que te ayude a quitar estrés, o sueltas el jodio cigarrillo o yo te voy a dar una razón para estresarte." (I don't give a fuck if it helps you destress, you either let go of the god-damned cigarette or ill give you a reason to be stressed)

She didn't know if she should be turned on or scared. Maybe both.

"yo... Umm? No hablar?" She tried to speak the very little spanish she knew, however, that only helped to confuse you. When she finally let go (and stopped on the cigarette) you sighed heavily.

"Your spanish is shit"

"Pardon?!"

Choso Kamo

Poor guy. He doesn't even know what you're saying. You weren't mad, just... Disappointed.

"Es que como se te ocurre? Es que de verdad, amor, no puedes hacer eso!" (What were you thinking. Truly, love, you can't do that!)

Not long ago, he had learned he was lactose intolerant and you were behind the bathroom door lecturing him, plugging your nose while doing so. He was struggling, both physically and mentally. You sounded funny but the ache on his stomach didn't let him laugh.

"Y es que si hubiera sido un poco. Pero nooooo, tu jartaste un tazon mantecado entero!" (And if it was just a little bit. But nooooo, you ate a whole bowl of ice cream!)

Its alright tho, he learned his lesson:(

Toji Fushiguro

"O te mueves o te muevo. Avanza y largate antes que yo misma decida romperte la cara" (move or ill move you. Hurry up and scatter before i break your face myself)

If you guys weren't bloody, sweaty and tired, he'd kiss you and fuck you full of his cock. But his tiredness told him he didn't have the strength to even get hard.

You'll just have to wait when he gets his rest and shower to show you how turn on he gets when you threaten him in a language he doesn't even understand.

Sukuna Ryomen

"Si te lo tengo que decir una vez más te voy a cortar los huevos. Si dejas que otra zorra se te acerque quedas soltero" (if i need to repeat this again I'll cut your dick off. You let another whore get close to you you'll be single)

You ever seen a cat widening his eyes? Yep, that's him. Looking around with a scowl on his face and looking straight and Urame for a translation, quickly. Not getting any, since they didn't know either.

However, the fire in your tone, the sass on your movements and the way you sounded threatening and serious makes him think that you truly are fit to be the queen of curses.

[sturnsmadl]

loverboy!chris headcannons!

loverboy!chris who built up the courage to slide in your dm's finally.

loverboy!chris who talked to you almost everyday.

"how are you?" "im filming tommorow." "u won't believe what i saw."

loverboy!chris who cut off every girl to focus on you.

loverboy!chris who always mentions flying you out.

"come onnnn. let me fly you out." "ill fly you out."

loverboy!chris who wants you to model for his brand.

"you tryna model?"

"dude i dont know how to model."

"so? you can try for me :)"

loverboy!chris who is always wanting to facetime.

"you tryna call?" "hop on facetime." "you awake?"

loverboy!chris who constantly talks about you to his brothers.

"and shes so fucking pretty."

"tell her that."

"can u shut the fuck up?"

loverboy!chris who really wants to meet you.

"you coming la anytime soon?"

"chris we spoke about this literally yesterday."

"pleaseeee?"

loverboy!chris who texts you like he's your boyfriend.

"good morning." "night babe." "you busy?"

loverboy!chris who makes sure your okay all the time.

"you okay? you looked really upset on ft last night."

"i was just tired :) thank you though."

"okay. you can always talk to me."

loverboy!chris who tells you everything.

"i literally just burped on matt."

"oh?"

"yeah."

loverboy!chris who finally flies you out to him.

"pack your bags ;)"

"omg. chris why did u do that?"

"i need to meet you."

loverboy!chris who gets really happy around you.

loverboy!chris who waited until you met to ask you to be his.

"can i be your boyfriend?"

"oh my- yes. yes.."

loverboy!chris who gets caught cuddling you on your first day meeting.

"shhh...shes sleeping."

"you met a few hours ago."

loverboy!chris who makes sure your ready for any advances.

"you sure?"

"yes chris just kiss me."

loverboy!chris who can't help himself and kisses you a lot more.

loverboy!chris who refuses to be away from you.

"where are you going?"

"to wash my hands.."

"ill come."

loverboy!chris who teaches you at top golf.

loverboy!chris who is so excited when he goes down on you.

"i've been waiting so long to do this."

"fuck..chris."

loverboy!chris who loves everything about you.

loverboy!chris who becomes very confident with you.

"i gotta fart."

"chris!"

loverboy!chris who showers with you to stay near you.

"want me to do your shampoo?"

"you could back up a bit."

"declined."

loverboy!chris who buys you everything you show interest in.

loverboy!chris who kisses your head while you sleep in his arms.

loverboy!chris who loves not sleeping alone.#

"i love that i get to hug you all night."

"its too hot to have you wrapped around me like a koala."

"thats just rude."

loverboy!chris who buys you stuffed animals that remind him of you.

loverboy!chris who sleeps on top of you.

"chris. wake up."

"what?"

"get off i need the bathroom."

"noooo"

loverboy!chris who leaves way too many marks.

"chris..i can't fucking cover them.."

"guess you'll have to show em off then huh?"

loverboy!chris who also loves pissing you off.

loverboy!chris who doesn't let you go bed mad at him.

"nuh uh. were not doing this. im sorry okay? whats wrong?"

loverboy!chris who cries when you find out your pregnant.

"your kidding.."

"no..are you happy..?"

"oh my god..yes.."

loverboy!chris who overbuys for the baby.

loverboy!chris who makes sure you know he's there at the birth.

"im here baby.. your doing so good."

loverboy!chris who takes a picture of him crying holding the baby when its first born.

loverboy!chris who treats his baby like glass.

"nick! careful."

"dude what..? i was just looking..jeez"

loverboy!chris who is so proud showing his brothers.

"look at my baby.."

"hes adorable chris."

"well done buddy."

loverboy!chris who makes sure your okay and provided for.

"you need any water? any food?"

"no im okay thank you.."

"a hug? i mean look what you just did. gave me a child. ur amazing."

a/n- these r quite far apart events!! this is also awful cause i rushed it smmmm!! i have so much school work to do :(

taglist! @bellaonthelow @muchloveforhacker @moonk1ss3d @sturnclouds @christophersgf @ellizzyy @fratbrochrisgf @phoenix062 @pixxiies @conspiracy-ash @blahbel668 @monroesturnns @gwennybenny @sturnobsessedwh0re @xoxo4chriss @pixie-sticks-are-good @wurlibydominicfike @anitahunt @ilusa @mattstrombolii

[vivwritesfics]

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter Eight - She Breaks Her Own Rules

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

1.5K

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap)

okay so im skipping ahead in the timeline but, by this point, they've done a lot and slept together a lot. If you guys want to, you can send in asks (like we've done with nnta) about it

Series Masterlist

The Spanish Grand Prix. It was their first grand prix since they started fucking and it felt like they'd done nothing but that. They'd spent almost every night together since that first time they slept together on the couch.

At first, Lando did what he had done that first time. He left her as soon as they had both finished, or he rolled away and let her leave.

But there was one time, one time where Y/N just laid there, too fucked out to move. Lando still got up. But this time he walked to the bathroom and started running the water.

As it ran, he made his way back to his bedroom, where Y/N was still laying. "Hey," he said, crouching down beside her and brushing the hair away from her forehead. "I've got the bath running for you."

Lando stood up straight. He brought her into his arms, picking her up and walking her into the bathroom. Gently, he placed her down in the water. He grabbed the loofa and the soap and began scrubbing at her skin. "Feeling better?" He asked, gently cleaning between her legs.

She hissed and Lando pulled away, cleaning the sweat from her thighs instead. "Thank you, Lan," she said softly, eyes closed as she leaned back against the tub.

He smiled, smoothed down her hair, and left the room.

Y/N closed her eyes. She just laid there, enjoying the feeling of the water against her skin. But then the door opened again and Lando returned, holding a clean pair of her pyjama shorts and one of his hoodies.

After climbing out of the tub and drying off her body. Y/N pulled on the shorts and Lando's hoodie. She followed him out of the bathroom and made her way back to her own bedroom, falling asleep alone.

But now they were at the Spanish Grand Prix. It was incredibly warm, but Y/N was still wearing a hoodie. She had thought nothing of it, of the hoodie she was wearing as she walked through the paddock on the Friday, orange hat on her head.

She thought nothing of it as she walked into the garage to prepare for free practice. She went into her drivers room and got changed into her fire proofs and racing overalls. Before she left her drivers room, she checked her phone and took a sip of her energy drink.

If this was a movie, the scenes would have cut between Y/N racing around the track and her phone notifications blowing up. It seemed like the only things the fans cared about wasn't the free practice, at this particular moment, but it was Y/N's attire as she arrived at the track. Or, who's clothes she was wearing.

It was no secret in the Formula One community that Lando liked to wear his hoodies. His fans knew all of his hoodies, knew how easily recognisable they were. So, when Y/N L/N, his teammate, came walking into the paddock wearing his hoodie, nobody could believe it.

F1 social media was blowing up, and she was none the wiser.

She and Lando didn't have much interaction that day. He didn't seem to notice what she was wearing, having gotten used to it, gotten used to seeing her in his clothes.

On the Saturday, things were a lot hotter. Y/N wore her McLaren top as she walked around the paddock, saying hello to her friends and doing a little bit of media with her teammate.

Interviewers loved to ask them how their living situation was going. Y/N and Lando loved to watch the excitement drain from their faces when they said that things were going well and that they enjoyed living together. Clearly, interviewers wanted gossip, tea, to hear how much they hated living together. But that wasn't what they had to say.

Qualifying was insanely good for Y/N. It was the best qualifying of her F1 career, starting second on the grid. Max qualified just ahead of her, but there was no way she was going to be able to overtake him. Second place would be good, if she could hold onto it, but she was hungry for the win.

If she had qualified ahead of Max Verstappen, she would have wanted to celebrate, to pull Lando into her bedroom for a sleepless night. But she hadn't qualified on pole and she needed to be able to concentrate, needed sleep before the race tomorrow.

On Sunday she was anxious. Of course she was, it was race day. She woke up, so much earlier than she needed to, and got dressed.

When it was time, she and Lando headed to the track together. It wasn't suspicious, they told themselves, they were roommates and friends and it was perfectly normal for them to go places together.

(When fans noticed this, they couldn't believe it. They had to be dating. First the hoodie and now this? Dating was the only explanation, they thought).

Before the race began, the drivers stood on track as the race day opening ceremonies happened. She was between her teammate and Ferrari's own Charles Leclerc as the national anthem was played.

Since they got to the track, Y/N and Lando hadn't had a moment alone. They hadn't had a moment to wish each other good luck. Were they even supposed to do that now? Just because they were having sex, did that mean they should say good luck to each other?

They didn't get much time to worry about it. Before they knew it, they were on the starting grid, waiting for the lights to go green.

***

Y/N was on the podium. She wasn't just on the podium, she had won. She stood proud as her countries national anthem played behind her. Her first win in F1 and she got to share the podium with her friend Max and the living legend that was Lewis Hamilton.

She sprayed champagne over them as they ran around the podium, the crowd staring up at them. The feeling of her first win was incredible, addictive, and she wanted to celebrate.

Max invited her on a night out, to go clubbing and celebrate his win. But Y/N turned him down, she had other plans.

Getting back to her drivers room, she did things quickly, got changed out of her fire proofs quickly. She then snuck her way out of her own drivers room and made her way over to Lando's driver room. She knocked gently and pushed the door open.

"Congratulations," said Lando as she walked in and shut the door behind her, he was incredibly proud of her.

Y/N was silent as she walked over to him, her hips swaying from side to side. Lando was still as he watched her walk over to him. As she threw her arms around his neck, Lando's hands settled on her waist. Still saying nothing, she pressed her lips to his.

The rules they had set out played in the back of his mind as Y/N pushed him back towards the white couch in his drivers room. She sat on his lap, immediately grinding against him.

Lando continued to kiss her as he pulled off his shirt. He pulled his own over his head and dropped it onto the couch beside them. Y/N continued to kiss him as she opened his jeans and pushed them down his legs, doing the same to her own.

Lando unclasped her bra as she freed him from the confines of his boxers. She pushed her panties down and sat back on his lap, his cock stiff and proud between them.

Y/N grabbed him and pumped her hand up and down. She kept her fingers wrapped around him as she placed herself above him, and sank down, throwing her head back as she filled him.

Fuck, she'd never get used to this. She never wanted to.

Lando held onto her ass as she bounced on his lap, riding him. He continued to kiss her, unwilling to pull his lips away as he began thrusting up into her, helping her to move. His hands gripped her skin, leaving bruises.

The way he held her, the feeling of his skin against hers, was addictive, almost as addictive as winning. "Lan," she whispered against his bruised lips.

"I've got you, baby," he whispered, continuing to fuck up into her.

Her eyes closed as she let out a weak cry.

Her orgasm was close, but still just out of reach. But then the door to Lando's driver room flew open and Max walked in. "Hey ma-"

Every in the room froze, just staring at each other. Lando tightened his grip on her before his brain kicked into gear and he grabbed his shirt from the couch and pulled it over her body.

He pulled out of her and pulled his boxers up, pushing Y/N behind him to shield her from Max's view. "It's not what it looks like," the McLaren drivers said at the same time.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @hollie911 @topguncultleader @annispamz @carlossainzwho @spideybv28 @wherethefuckisthething @fangirl125reader @minkyungseokie @marialovesf1 @kitixie @i-wish-this-was-me @bborra @formula1mount @charlotte1697 @formulaal @eviethetheatrefreak @lordpercivalcharles @venisvendetta @marie0v @tbsloneely @laur20a23 @formulas-bitch @cmleitora @marvelavengers000 @gills-lounge @andydrysdalerogers @demipatterns @holy-macncheese-balls @jule239 @aexitizen-ln4 @landosgirlxoxo @allinestarr @starmanv @st0rmzi3 @random-human02 @nocoolusernamesavailable-blog @happymeal777 @ashy-kit @juniper-july19 @im-an-overthinker @haylenxx @kapsylia @prettiest-at-the-party @urfavnoirette @norassimpingzone @thehufflepuffavenger1 @taintet @amorydsmt @hi00000234567 @iamkaku @maxv33rstappen @noneofyourfbusinessworld @thatsusbitch @izzy-marvel @carqueensworld

[caitlinbueckers]

ok Ik you said Pazzi fic in studio but will never get the idea of Paige calling azzi mamas out of my head so just felt like I needed to share an idea for a blurb or to include in anything you write PAIGE CALLINF AZZI MAMAS

anon ur a genius but i am simply a fool who took this prompt and then ran with it and turned it into a random oneshot soooooo i apologize for the minimal use of ‘mamas’ but hope u like it anyway and will implement that in all my writing deadass

pet names.

paige bueckers/azzi fudd.

2.8K.

kinda bullshit rambling but a lil more of a structure to follow???

minimal nsfw so 18+ as fuck

Wait guys let me know how u rly feel bcuz im not suuuper happy w this one

at first, it’s a subtle change.

it’s not like paige is ever actually serious enough for her words to be taken to heart or with any ounce of meaning behind it— she’s a fucking idiot, and azzi was more than well aware of her incessant antics, and the fact that she just played too much.

so, of course it surprises her, but she can’t say it really means anything, until it does.

it’s funny to azzi, really, when recently, all of a sudden, paige will get caught up in her usual tangents that she’s started letting these random, little pet names slip from her lips, mouth moving so fast, almost as if she barely meant it, could barely even call it out herself.

it happens usually when they’re tired— or, at least when azzi’s tired, and paige is excited. sweat clinging to the back of azzi’s neck, her curls drawing up and away from the edges of her hairline, skin flushed and hot to the touch when paige is suddenly breezing past her. she’s somehow still in a jog despite the rigorous drills they’d done, oblivious to the redness of her face or the plastered strands of blonde hair against her forehead. she’s at the tail end of a conversation with KK, still grinning like a fool about whatever they must’ve been chattering about, yelling out some type of phrase or joke that only those two could conjur up.

azzi’s right eyebrow is already lifted, somehow already suspicious and unimpressed of her intentions when paige is launching straight into a new conversation, cheeks still pink and teeth on display as she skips backwards to keep her eyes on azzi.

“i think me an’ KK are ‘finna go play 2K when we get back to the dorms— i told her ass she doesn’t stand like, a single chance when I’ve been on my grind, and she don’t believe me, like, baby, you know i’ve been on that shit,” she clicks her tongue, rolls her eyes before she’s smacking azzi’s arm, giving her a sneaky grin, one that signaled whatever she was offering was really gonna be a delight, (it never was), “you should come chill. you don’t gotta play if you don’t want, you can always be my lil’ cheerleader.”

it wasn’t like her high energy, rapid movement behavior was anything unusual, but that little, barely missable word was.

baby. it rolls off her tongue like it’s been waiting around the whole time, lingering beneath the surface, waiting for the moment to strike. she says it with an ease of comfort she can’t necessarily place, and azzi doesn’t necessarily hate it, but it’s there, nonetheless.

it momentarily stunts her, but azzi still finds herself smiling— not from any type of fluster or flush miraculously, but one that she usually gives paige when she’s amused by her, eyes wide and exaggerated as she huffs out a chuckle. “that sounds… boring, honestly.” but, she’s laughing at the gape on paige’s face anywa, “i need to shower, dude, i don’t wanna watch video games.” she scoffs, before she grins at her, only because she knows it’ll piss paige off.

and it does, so, of course the walk out to the parking lot is filled with a whole lot of, ‘oh my god, bro, you’re so lame.’ or, ‘like, azzi, you can have a turn ‘forreal, like just come over for like, deadass a second.’

ultimately, and unsurprisingly enough, paige ends up getting her way. though, she’ll swear it’s only because azzi takes her shower, does some homework and is in the middle of taking out her braids when the word hits her again, and again, and again.

babybabybaby.

she can’t really blame the way she rolls her eyes despite herself. her and paige had been close for fucking ever, so there wasn’t necessarily much between them that was off limits, but it still resonated within her as something azzi couldn’t just brush off. whether that was more damaging than pretending it never happened, she didn’t have a single clue.

all she did know, was that paige bueckers got her way entirely way too much. so much so, that azzi has to let out an audible groan reserved only for paige, before she texts that she’s on her way over.

and yeah, whatever, maybe it wouldn’t matter so much if it was just a one-off, or if maybe their friendship wasn’t so fucking complicated in the first place.

but then, it does matter, because it doesn’t stop happening.

when paige is frustrated at her homework, sitting plainly with her legs at full extension in the study room with aaliyah, ice, and azzi, it leaves her lips in a huff of exasperation, “azzi, babe, this shit really makes no sense, swear.” even if she’s saying it in the voice that clearly states she hasn’t attempted it for nearly long enough to proclaim she doesn’t get it, “az, can you please just come check it out.” azzi can’t tell what’s worse; the fact that paige had said it, or the fact that nobody had even looked surprised that she did.

or when they’d gotten dressed for media day, everyone milling about as they try not to wrinkle their uniforms or crease their concealer, it’s paige (and eventually nika and aaliyah) that whoops and hollers during azzi’s solo pictures, something like, “yeaaaah princess! nation’s best, babyyyyy! work that shit!” followed by a series of whistles that sounded so off pitch it makes azzi snort, rolling her eyes as she purposely avoids the gaze that paige so obviously wants to capture, teetering at the edges of azzi’s peripheral with a grin so wide it threatens to make her blush.

and, she swears she doesn’t, and instead turns back to the photographer with cheeks only a touch pinker than they were previously, “sorry— can we do that again?”

really, the only time she’d ever allowed herself to actually enjoy it, was on the last night at the hotel after a game. it couldn’t have been later than two or three in the morning, paige and azzi having spent the majority of it whispering beneath the covers, anything to not wake up the two other girls asleep in the other double bed.

it’s not too bad, having to share beds— except that, paige is a chronic cuddler and azzi would rather sleep on the shitty futon than be subjected to paige’s unrelenting weight against her back, or her arms slung lazily over her, but it was because of that precise position that azzi could even hear the words when she says it.

“mmmh-,“ she hums tiredly first, speaking mostly out of her ass, like paige always did when got too tired and let herself start rambling “night, pretty girl.”

it’s soft, and sort of raspy— the way paige gets when she’s been screaming all night on the court, and azzi can really only tell by the amount of ibuprofen that she’d downed before bed being somewhat more than her usual, that she’s probably got a headache. it’s a voice she uses when she’s being sincere.

the quiet sentiment, however insignificant to anyone else, replays in her mind. almost like a secret. almost like the closer she keeps it to her chest, the harder it’ll be to lose it.

it makes her whole body warm all over.

her response comes a few beats later, when she’s sure paige has drifted, and nothing but her measured breath is puffing against azzi’s neck, heard only between the two of them.

“night, p.”

but then, suddenly, everything sort of changes. azzi doesn’t know when this part happened— maybe it’s between the time she kisses her at that bar, tipsy and too close, unaware of the camera that set the internet aflame, and now, where it was customary that paige did homework with her, or ate dinner with her or slept over all the time. perhaps, it’s one selective moment in the chaos between that had suddenly transformed paige’s subtle casualty of the pet names, to something more intimate. more for them, rather for anyone else.

or, maybe it was exactly where they knew they’d end up all along.

it’s after a night out, after neither of them had ever really questioned how this had became their routine. that now, it had become something unspoken, an inherent rule that was followed without it needing to be stated. that, when they got too fucked up with the team, and the ubers were being ordered, azzi and paige always went together, that the address would always end up being paige’s dorm, and that azzi would always be curling into purple sheets by the time she sobers up enough to sleep.

but, she’s not sober. she’s drunk, and her face is flushed hot, sticky with the bar atmosphere. “paige, you’re making me too hot.” azzi complains with an impatient lilt to her voice, lifting her right shoulder up to her neck as if to shrug paige off, but the girl is relentless, humming her denial as she slid a hand across azzi’s thigh, grasping it hard enough that her nails dug into the skin there.

“psh, you’re already hot, shut up.” the words are spoken clumsily, lips brushing against the bare skin of azzi’s shoulder with each word, while a sudden surge of annoyance and somehow gratitude courses through azzi for having worn a sleeveless top, “c’mere, mamas, ‘lemme lay on you.”

she’s being whiny, and it only makes azzi roll her eyes before her gaze flickers to the screen of the car, giving her another light elbow prod, only this time, a short, sneaking smile is crossing her face. “paige, ‘forreal, we’re about to be back anyway.”

this, somehow, only fuels her. “i’m wounded,” she complains, before she’s pressing a little smack of a kiss to azzi’s neck, “my girl’s so mean to me, shit.”

my girl.

what the fuck ever.

azzi should’ve demanded an explanation then, but she doesn’t.

in fact, there’s not an explanation waiting for them when they stumble into paige’s room, their hands in a tight grasp, pulling each other in so that they can both fall against the bed, and azzi really shouldn’t have been expecting one. it’s definitely not explained when they’re somehow under the blankets, and paige has an arm, long and lean, wrapped around azzi’s waist to end somewhere between her legs, fingers finding a rhythm that seems to pull the very air from azzi’s lungs.

it’s not what azzi was expecting to happen, and yet somehow they’d fallen into place like it something they’d done a million times. paige had undressed her, after azzi’s complaint of still feeling too hot, and paige— not even a singular bit sober— finds her hands along the bottom of azzi’s top, tugging it over her head before she tosses her an old basketball camp shirt that had been slung across her dresser.

“you gonna sleep in jeans?” is really what had started it, paige’s pointed tone making azzi’s face burn hot, but the smirk on her face never faltered. “you’re so annoying.”

because then, paige has her fingers hooking into azzi’s waistband, eliciting a string of giggles that escape because fuck, she’s ticklish and paige knows. “what? what am i doing?” the blonde is grinning too, snickering under her breath as azzi’s pants are yanked down her hips, kicked from her feet with minimal effort until azzi feels it. a featherlight kiss was placed to each of her scarred knees, the inside of her thigh, eyes flickering up to azzi’s hazy but steady gaze, “this okay?”

god, azzi hadn’t realized until just then how fucking okay it was.

it’s quiet, sensual even, the way that paige talks her through it— heel of her hand dragging endlessly against her swollen clit, fingers thick as they arched into her, teeth grazing the back of azzi’s shoulder with each word of encouragement.

“c’mon, mamas, jus’ like that.” had anyone known better, they’d think paige must’ve been getting off just to this, by the way her own voice hitched and caught, her own hard swallows that reverberated in azzi’s ear, each laced with little gasps as she plunged into her wetness.

but, azzi did know better— paige was absolutely getting off to it. her voice is all breath, crackling and barely audible, murmuring incoherent mumbles that make it almost incomprehensible to decipher, yet, azzi swears she can understand.

it’s in her ear, over and over, that heat and pressure between her legs building as her hips twitched involuntarily against her knuckles, feels the way they slide deeper within her and azzi lets out a noise that even she’s too embarrassed to recount. “fuck, i wanna hear that shit, need to hear you baby, please.”

it coaxes the orgasm straight from azzi’s core, thighs involuntarily squeezing around paige’s hands, to which the blonde is silent in muted awe. she watches with bleary eyes but bated breath, sitting up only a bit to really witness it. the way azzi’s face drew up, eyebrows furrowed and lips parting, the whimper edged breaths that huffed out of her, the tight clamping of her eyes shut.

“so fucking pretty,” each word is punctuated in a kiss, “so good.”

really, it should’ve been a lot worse for them the next morning. azzi can’t help the wave of a ground shaking realization she gets when she rolls over to inspect paige’s sleeping expression, lips slightly parted, her blonde hair mussed on the pillow behind her. there should’ve been some type of lingering awkwardness that hung above them, some type of trepidation or fear, maybe even regret.

it definitely wasn’t like they talked about it, but they’d also never quite gone this far. did they need to? probably, because azzi knew that the guilt would probably hit sooner or later.

in fact, azzi waits for it to hit, all the way until paige wakes up, and her eyes are a little puffy, watery blue and clear as she blinks up blearily at azzi like she’s the finest thing she’s ever laid eyes on (because she is), and whispers with a grin, “distracted by my beauty?”

she waits even until the next away game, when her legs are propped up over paige’s lap and her fingers are drumming absently against azzi’s thigh, humming something in her headphones with her eyes shut, looking like a complete idiot, before their eyes meet by chance when paige opens them, and suddenly, they’re both grinning.

she even waits for it to hit when the buzzer goes off after the fourth quarter of that game, an easy win, and confetti is thrown. it’s chaos really, with all the girls rushing through the tunnel to get back to the lockers. that is, until, paige pulls her aside for half a second, hidden away from the hungry eyes to press a solid, sweet kiss to her lips.

but it doesn’t end there. azzi waits for it during her injury, when enough nights in linoleum covered white floors with the constant smell of antiseptic start to pierce the inside of azzi’s brain, ruins her attitude enough that paige’s texts go unanswered. and yet, everytime azzi wakes up, the pain in her leg flared and angry, it’s paige that’s sat in the corner of the room, huddled under a shitty hospital blanket, waiting for her to wake up.

it went even as far as the loss against IOWA when the roles are reversed— after the excitement of final four had became real, after the grueling, rampant preparation, and then ultimately, a loss. it’s when azzi gets permission to stick around in paige’s hotel room until she gets back from the game, and the way that the blonde, finally in the safety of the four walls, found herself crumbling to azzi, becoming nothing but a shell of what everyone perceives her to be, everything paige wishes she fucking wasn’t.

it’s only then, that azzi finds herself returning the favor— arms wrapped tight around paige’s waist with a burning, sting in her own eyes that she can feel the moment she sighs against the crown of paige’s head. she can smell the sweat, the smell of a basketball court that had just gotten waxed, but really, azzi just smells paige, and that’s enough to give her the composure she needs to whisper against her head, “don’t be so hard on yourself, baby… you guys did so good.”

and they don’t talk about it, because they don’t need to. the same way they never had to ask the other when it came to the hospital or bus rides or homework dates or hotel rooms— it was unspoken, implied but never mentioned. the same way back when they’d met at USA camp, it was never a matter of conversation for their plays to work, it was all in the matter of a look, or a slight of hand.

and when the team starts asking, giving paige shit about how she’s missing video game nights with KK or azzi’s getting shit about caroline missing her study partner, everybody already knows. when paige tells nika, voice only a little timid as she gives her a condensed version of the last few months like it was a ground shaking news, head tilted to lean on the older girls shoulder, the brunette bursts into laughter. ‘finally, took you guys long enough.’

and really, it was a wonder they hadn’t been like this the whole time.

a wonder that it had taken this long in the first place.

[barbiiecams]

daddy’s girl

dad!drew starkey x mom!reader, kinda trash but obviously i had too cus im in love with the video of drew and his niece oh my gosh <33

it was a peaceful morning. the sun was shining, the weather was warm, and it was a perfect day for a family date.

looking at the clock, you saw it was 8 am. you were a little surprised aaliyah hadn’t woken up yet, but she just started sleeping through the night. and you definitely weren’t complaining at all.

you sat up in bed while drew was still knocked out. he was still on go all night just in case she started crying in the middle of the night, so he was reasonably tired.

letting him sleep for a little bit, you got up to check on your baby. you made sure to keep your steps quiet, just so you didn’t wake drew up or potentially wake aaliyah up either.

opening the door to her nursery, a wide awake baby looked at you as you walked in.

you smiled at the position of her on her back, holding her feet. “is that my liyah girl up?”

she flashed you her infamous gummy smile. she loved to smile at anyone and everyone, and you just always had to thank god for your happy baby.

she kicked her legs around, more than excited to see her mommy in the morning again. picking her up from her crib, you smothered her in kisses. “my pretty girl, we’re gonna have such a fun day!”

you played with her a little more in your arms before you decided it was time to get yourselves ready for the day. walking into the bathroom, you brushed your teeth while you made sure she had one of her teething rings.

the wailing wasn’t happening now, but it would definitely happen later. better safe than sorry.

she was so calm and bubbly as you did your morning routine, it was perfect. she was really the definition of a “trick baby”.

you were almost done when drew walked in, clearly just woke up from bed not even a minute ago.

“good morning sleepyhead.” you grinned at him through the mirror.

he rubbed his eyes “g’morning,”

hugging you from behind, he gave you a kiss on the cheek then your lip. he reached over to aaliyah to rub her head comfortingly.

“this big girl slept throughout the whole night huh? didn’t she?” he started cooing at her, but that eventually turned into all of his attention. if there was someone that could “steal” your man, it’d be no one except his other princess.

he tickled her a little bit which made her start giggling, then gave her her morning kisses. a sight that would never get old to you.

“best sleep of my life,” you said while styling your hair, and it made him laugh.

“and you deserve it,” he said while wrapping an arm around your waist. “carried her for so long, s’the least i can do baby.”

you smiled at his words, “well she’s sleeping finally, so that means we can both start too.”

“and the stuff we used to be able to do almost every night,” he says into your ear, mainly so that liyah won’t hear.

giggling at his words and shaking your head, you finished with your hair. “it’s too early for you. this is the reason why she’s here in the first place.”

while cleaning your space up, he carries aaliyah off the counter. “you know i want another one.”

“me too,” you respond. “when she’s 2!”

he just smiles at this. he definitely doesn’t have a problem with that, but it just made him laugh that you were so adamant about the specific age. “you wanna be pregnant and dealing with terrible twos?

“you wanna deal with a baby and terrible twos?”

he throws his head back and laughs while bouncing aaliyah. “i’ll go get her ready, take your time baby.”

before walking out the bathroom he gives you a final kiss on the cheek. it feels nice being able to just have a morning to yourself after becoming a mom, but you always still cherished the mornings with liyah.

picking out your outfit, you settled on this for the fact that it was comfy enough to take aaliyah around the city as you planned.

when you were completely done getting yourself ready, you went to check on what your husband and baby were up to since it didn’t take you very long to get ready.

walking into her nursery once again, you saw a completely dressed and ready to go aaliyah.

“woww, that was quick. i’m impressed.” you praise drew.

he throws you a wink, “super dad.”

you giggle at his words while he hands her to you so he can get himself ready. the both of you were probably thinking about doing a brunch, so you packed liyah’s bag so you guys could leave as soon as he finished.

as drew walked out, liyah wasn’t having it. she started to get fussy and start whining when he was completely out of eyesight.

because of this, you paused packing some of her things. instead, you bounced her and patted her back, “ohh i know sweat pea, daddy’s just leaving the baby huh?”

although it could be a handful, you loved to see the bond she had with drew. she could be crying all night one second, but completely fine the next if she sees him right next to her.

calming down only a little, you were able to continue packing her bag. after 20 minutes of trying to keep her occupied, drew finally was done.

he takes the bag from you, “where we headed first, mama?”

“well i know she’s gonna get hungry soon and i definitely am, so let’s stop at our spot for brunch.”

before he can make another move, liyah reaches out for him and he takes her, “it’s clear who the favorite is.”

he smirks at you and all you can do was roll your eyes. it was the truth whether you liked it or not. “whatever. let’s go.”

laughing at your sentence, he puts his hand on the small of your back as you guys walk out of the room and out of the house, him also locking the door behind you too.

it’s the way he was able to multitask and do so much, while looking soo sexy, with a baby in his arm. it did really make you wanna give him another one earlier.

you made your way to the car and so did he, putting liyah in her car seat before entering the drivers seat. you guys headed down to the cafe that you and drew considered “your spot”, and you guys both planned to have your kids practically grow up with this cafe. it’s where you and drew both met for the first time, and all the memories you’ve made so far have been beautiful. you definitely weren’t going to stop making those memories anytime soon either.

—

arriving at the cafe, he grabs the baby bag and your purse while you put aaliyah in her carrier that was connected to you. eventually you would start putting her in the high chairs that the restaurants provided, but currently she was still in the phase where she needed to touch either mommy or daddy in public.

fastening the carrier, you and drew both walked in and saw familiar faces behind the counters.

“ah look! it’s my favorite person and her parents!” the owner jokes.

this makes you giggle and drew roll his eyes, “good morning to you too.”

you both find a spot and order your usuals. days like these you always appreciated. being surrounded by the people that make you happy and surrounded by peace.

drew started chatting with the owner while you chatted with his wife who also worked there. their daughter who was around your age had just had a baby herself, so there was already enough to go and chat over.

everything was going well, until of course you guys heard the whining. it was surely feeding time.

they watched you with smiles as you positioned her off your chest, but cradling her as drew handed you a bottle. as soon as you put it to her lips, she was completely calm again.

“that is really your twin, y/n!” the woman says.

“you think so?” you really only said this to hear her say it again, knowing how much she looked like you. you didn’t just cook her up for 9 months and pop her out for her not to look like you.

“most definitely,” she smiles.

“she may look like me, but that’s her true favorite right there.” you pointed at drew.

“really?” the owner asks.

“oh for sure,” drew says as he just admires the both of you. “i always tell her, mommy’s twin but daddy’s girl.”

he makes your eyes roll for what seems like the 50th time this morning, but he just laughs and kisses your cheek.

“when you have a son, he’ll most likely be a mamas boy.” the owner affirms.

“well, i guess we’re just gonna have to test that theory out.” drew says as he wraps an arm around you.

and that was just your main goal in life, to expand your growing family even more with him.

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Singer!Fem Reader

Summary: Venus goes on live after rehearsal and lets her fans take a glimpse into what her and Joe's nights together are like.

Chapter 24: Mr. Perfect

#Track9 Masterlist | Main Masterlist

TW: implied smut, language, haters.

WC: about 2k

Part 1 🖤

₊˚ପ ⊹ ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ꕥ

@musicbyvenus has started an Instagram Live! Come join!

“Hello, all you beautiful people. How are my babes doing tonight? I haven’t done this in a hot minute, so be patient with me. I had a really long day and thought the best way to unwind would be for me to unload onto my darling fans.” The woman chuckled to herself while watching the viewer count grow by hundreds per minute.

Tell us all about your day bestie!

How are rehearsals going?

Are you gonna release the set list yet?

How’s Joe doing?

Where’s Joe?!?

“Wow these are coming in fast. I’m going to try and answer as many of your questions as possible, but thank you guys for just being here with me. I know I tend to go a bit awol with my public appearances, so I appreciate everyone here. Rehearsals are going great, I’m very happy with how the show is looking.”

 @MarsOfficial Im expecting a least two Hamilton songs while I’m in attendance 

“You always expect so much of me; you’re starting to sound like my mother, Y/Bff.”

@MarsOfficial then maybe you should start listening to me

A light-hearted giggle makes its way into the air as she reads her best friend’s comment. “I always listen to you!”

@MarsOfficial fat liesssss

“Y'all listen; the only reason I am in a relationship right now is because Y/Bff and Riana, two of my best friends, literally pushed us together. None of this would’ve happened without them.”

“What wouldn’t have happened without who?” A deep voice coming from behind her says.

OMG ITS JOEY

Joe said shit i have to work lol

PLEASE ASK HIM TO STAY

ON GOD HES SO HOT

I DON'T KNOW WHY I expected him to walk in shirtless, but I’m kinda disappointed 

IS HE COMING TO THE LA SHOW???

“I was talking about how we got together.” Y/n peaks behind herself to watch the quarterback snicker while fishing through their kitchen cabinets.

“Oh you mean when your friends pretended to be my ex to make you jealous? Yea they were a great help.” Joe rolled his eyes while grabbing a snack and a bottle of water. “I’ll have you know, I was fully capable of doing that on my own.”

@Riri.intl24 why is he lying, he had almost two years to make a move and DIDNT

“Riana begs to differ. Can you grab me-“ Y/n’s cut off by her own water and snack being dangled in front of her. “Thank you.”

WHAT A GENTLEMAN 

UGH I WANT ONE

IS THAT A CLIFF BAR

Y/n we’re judging you so hard right now

Joe takes a seat next to her but slightly out of camera. “Of course, and tell Riana I was trying to time it right.”

“Ok Mr. Time-Is-Of-The-Essence.” She smirked, then turned back to her phone. “Why are you people roasting my cliff bar?”

@MarsOfficial because you once said it tasted like good dirt then proceeded to inhale one

“I’m going to ignore that. Let’s answer some questions! Yes, Joey’s going to be at the LA show. I am not releasing the set list, but I do have an announcement regarding it. I’ve decided that my show will be about 2 hours long and each show will have 3-4 different surprise songs. I’m very excited about that. If yall have been keeping up on X, then you’d know the first show’s theme is ‘Slumber Party’. Unfortunately I can’t kick anyone out if they don’t dress up-“

ARE YOU ACTUALLY GOING TO PERFORM HAMILTON SONGS?

Is Walk Like This on the Set List

“Fantastic.”

THE NERVE

“You are not anyone, you have to dress up.” She pointed at the man.

YESSS SIS

You should bring him on stage with you!

WALK HIM LIKE A DOG

Joey shook his head and sighed, “I was joking babe, kinda.”

“Uh huh sureeee. Whoever asked about Walk Like This, this answer is 100%. I absolutely love that song and the choreo, ugh amazing. I can’t wait to perform it.”

What song is Joe most excited for?

What songs will you absolutely NOT be singing?

Is ‘The One’ on the no list?

“I don’t even have to ask him which one he wants to see the most. Joey?”

“Crazy for You.” He smiled.

“See, he’s extremely predictable.”

scripted

“Ok hold on, I also like what you did with Tell Me You Love Me.” He so kindly added.

“Why thank you kind sir.”

@lahjay10_ gross

We love a supportive boyfriend 

Husband Material

Get married please

ADOPT ME

Not all of Team Shiesty being in the comments

It's in their dating contract

“Yall are too funny.” Y/n looks over at Joe to see him with his head thrown back laughing. “What is it?”

“Your accent.” He coughed out.

“Joey, I don't have an accent.” She pouts.

Nahhh we know a southern belle when we hear one

Someone forgot she’s from Georgia

You’d think it’d get weaker the longer she stays up north

orrrr maybe she still has it because she doesn't actually live in Ohio

“Yes you do, but don’t worry I think it’s absolutely adorable.”

“I can’t with you.” She rolled her eyes, but the smile spreading across her cheeks told him otherwise.

@MarsOfficial I KNEW IT 

@MarsOfficial I knew he had a thing for your country shit

“Aight, we are getting off task! Is there a No list? Technically yes, but no ‘The One’ is not on it. And before any of you start, Joseph, please tell the people how you feel about ‘The One’ once and for all.” Y/n turns the phone so the fans have a full picture of him.

“I feel like people have been waiting and praying for this moment.” He chuckles brushing his fingers through his hair. 

CAUSE WE HAVEEEEE

TELL USSSS

WE NEED TO KNOW

He raises his right hand. “Ok, everyone listening. I, Joe Burrow of the Cincinnati Bengals.” 

“Oh my god.”

“I’m trying to deliver an address here, princess.” He said sternly. She pretended to zip her mouth shut and throw away the key.

Stop making me feel singleeee

“Ok where were we, right. I, Joe Burrow of the Cincinnati Bengals, solemnly swear that Track Nine is one of my actual favorite songs that Y/n has put out. Now all the commotion stops here, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.” As he finishes, they lock eyes and simultaneously burst into fits of laughter.

I knew it wasn’t that serious

We were clickbaited

THEY FOOLED US

Social Media is the devil

@MarsOfficial I tried to tell you

Her next project is gonna go so crazy

Hiiii from Canada

Instead of turning the phone back towards his girlfriend, Joey gently cuffs her waist and pulls her over to himself so she can continue her job. Then rests his hand over her shoulder.

Yoooo if you couldn’t see the height difference then, you def see it now🤭

Ugh they look so damn good together 

Yall should do an whole day in the life

What happened to not liking cameras Joey???

“Okay guys, I think I’m gonna take a few more questions then call it a night.”

Noooo

Has Joe seen the entire show?

Booooo

Yes get off so Joe can get off from work and see his real girl

European fans here!!!

What is your ideal date night?

“I know I know, but our dinner’s almost here so we gotta wrap this up. No, he has not seen the whole show. I need my man to be surprised too. More importantly, he has no clue how Crazy for Me is being set.” She smirked as she felt his hand move down to her thigh.

Oh they gon wrap something else up tonight too

“Oh but does my mind wonder.” He bites his lip, no longer able to pay attention to anything but the woman on his right.

Omg the sexual tension is brewing

His hand continues to stroke her thigh until his phone goes off. “Fuck, food’s here.” He gets up and rounds the couch, but before he completely passes her their dark eyes meet and he makes a quick stop. 

@MarsOfficial I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, they are literally CRAZY for each other

Dream vacation??

I’m sorry why can’t a man look at me like that

She was right about this not lasting very long

Shiiiiii I wonder how long HE lasts👀

@lahjay10_ yalls comments are getting out of hand

A strong but gentle hand lightly pulls her head back and they smile before he connects his lips to hers for a shy but sweet kiss, then he pecks her forehead and leaves the frame. 

AGAIN A MAN LIKE THAT PLEASE

GOD WHOEVER IS LISTENING THANK YOU

That looked mad forced

You make me feel so single🤧

If you weren’t famous, what would you be doing?

Y/n quickly clears her throat before looking back at her comments. 

@lahjay10_ oh god, get that off of my phone

She’s so flusteredddd

Girl we understand whewwww

“Uno, go away. Okay um, speed round. Dream vacation is definitely Greece. Ideal date night depends on how we’re feeling, but you can’t go wrong with a nice restaurant then coming home and getting in the hot tub. If I weren’t famous what would I be doing?”

Joe Burrow.

The man right behind you

That one Cincinnati quarterback maybe🤭

regular shit because they wouldn't even know each other

yall are unhinged 

Her eyes widened and she looked over her shoulder at her boyfriend setting up their dinner. “Hmmmm yes to the first three.”

QUEEN

@Riri.intl24 Girl focus!

@MarsOfficial Ridiculous.

“Ok but for real if I wasn’t famous I guess I’d be trying to put myself through school.” She shrugged.

“Nope, you’d be in your residency program like you’re supposed to because I’d take care of everything. Now sign off of there so I can have my dessert.” He stated from the background.

“We didn’t order any dessert.”

Joe darkly smiled, “we didn’t have to. Everything I want is already here.”

HOT SHIT

OMG

thats so scripted🥱

I THREW THE PHONE

MSKSKFYCYHC

GIRL GO

“Fuck me.” She says under her breath, then reaches for her phone. 

“I’m trying.” 

SCREAMING

@lahjay10_ imma clown his ass for this so much

@MarsOfficial Venus you need to move faster

@Riri.intl24 Esa comida no se comerá pronto

(translation: that food is not getting eaten anytime soon)

“Jesus, bye babes. Love yall, and I can’t wait to meet you soon.” She stands, blows the camera a quick kiss, and turns off the phone.

As she walks toward the dining room, he meets her half way and backs her up against a wall. “Fucking finally, I’ve wanted you since I first walked in.” 

His hands go straight to her soft waist and his lips meet hers with an intense fervor. Breathless moans are smothered against his lips and her fingers tangle in his hair. “Wha-what about the food?” 

Joe grips her ass, his lips pull off of hers, and they begin to suck purple bruises on her neck and behind her ear. “You always say it tastes better after it's reheated anyway.” 

He pecks her lips and smiles at his handy work: her lips swollen and red, eyes burning with a dark desire, neck glistening with a shiny magenta hue and knees trembling from the pressure. “You’re so beautiful.”

Her face heats up as she takes in the sight of her lover with a matching set of glossy lips. “I love you.”

“I love you more than anything, and I’m about to show you exactly how much.” He smirks then throws her over his shoulder and takes off towards the bedroom. 

“Joey!”

₊˚ପ ⊹ ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ꕥ

a/n: part two this weekend♡

<<< Ch. 23: Tour Countdown | Part Two >>>

[todayisafridaynight]

LITERALLY SO FUCKING REAL ABOUT FABLE it's not the worst movie I've seen with him by any means but. Good God. Bear with me. Picture This: I'm super excited to see Tsutsumi and Okada co-star again because I really liked them in Fly, Daddy, Fly and SP [Security Police] is like, top five Tsutsumi Characters [Soichiro Ogata I'm kissing you on the mouth], top ten Tsutsumi Media overall [the show is slow to start but Ogata's arc and the finale movie ESPECIALLY are some of my favorite things ever]. Watched that shit five times, whatever. I also liked the first Fable movie!

The promotional material starts coming out. It generally portrays Utsubo as he portrays himself to the public. So at most I'm expecting the usual Morally Gray Parent angle. CALL ME STUPID ALRIGHT BUT THAT'S HOW IT PLAYED OUT. Anyway. Movie comes out, pick a time to watch with friends who don't know each other that well, start off in a bad mood for various reasons. And then. ON TOP OF getting blasted with Scenes That Make Me Want To Flay My Skin Off with no warning at all. One of my friends comments on said scenes saying the MOST For The Love Of God Read The Room shit like this is NOT the TIME to THIRSTPOST

IT WAS SO OOOUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHH like my absolute favorite Tsutsumi film is perhaps on-par with regard to some of the subject matter but I was fine for that... The Viewing Experience is make-or-break sometimes... so if nothing else, I'm glad you had fun watching! And Hey I mean, the performance was sick [all definitions]

Also reminds me two of the guys outside Hoshino's office for the second boss fight are called Tsutsumi and Utsubo that was fun

what godforsaken parasite is in the air that makes us go 'oh this looks like it'd be a fun movie to watch with a friend :))' LIKE PLEAAASSEE IT WAS MAD AWKWARD i genuinely didn't know what to expect when i initially read the summary but it definitely wasn't. All Of That ☠️☠️☠️