#pls tag me if you’re inspired by this

[free-for-all-fics]

Phantom of the Opera and Beauty and the Beast Crossover AU Prompt! This was going to be a much, much, much shorter prompt, but then inspiration hit me very hard and it got very long, but it still doesn’t feel quite right for me to call this a full fic or oneshot. If you’re inspired by any ideas presented here, pls tag me and I’d love to read it! 🌹❤️🥀

The faerie hesitated. She knew tradition demanded that she curse the newborn prince for not being invited to the christening, but it wasn't his fault the messenger fell off his horse. She decided to get creative with the wording. Thus, instead of being cursed to die, Erik, the firstborn son to the king of France, was cursed with a deformed face. The prince would become more beautiful with every awful deed he committed, but the curse wouldn’t be broken until he found someone who could love him for his heart and marry him. He was disowned from the royal family and disinherited from the throne, decried as a “demon” or “living corpse”. He grew up with no knowledge of his true lineage and was instead raised by the servants and kept in the walls. The queen was fed lies that Erik died shortly after the christening, and she mourned for her baby boy. She never fully recovered from what she believed to be her firstborn son’s death, but later gave birth to another son, Prince Adam.

The king was known for ruling his kingdom with a cruel iron fist and raised the young prince to be selfish and arrogant, even forbidding the servants from ever questioning or objecting to his ways of raising his son. The prince used to live in the castle with his beloved mother as a sweet child until she died from an illness, which gave his cruel father the opportunity to harden his heart to become a more arrogant but effective ruler of the kingdom. He showed no concern over the loss of the queen, and led his son away from his wife's deathbed without any emotion. Erik became the court composer and exhibited a megalomaniacal personality, convinced he was a genius of music. He considered himself to be great and was never stingy with a compliment for himself. He was lugubrious and had not seemed to share the joys of the castellans and other courtesans. Erik spent much of his time isolating himself in the dark, too busy with concertos and operas of his own composition that he claimed would bring the house down.

“Bravo, bravo! Encore!”

“You approve?”

“Oh, maestro, it's magnificent!”

“Oh, come along. It's merely an opera...to bring the house down! Yes, I know...now, in the midst of my crescendo, I thought I heard merriment outside the window. Have a look see, will you?”

He had a deep hatred towards happiness or, at the very least, happy songs, as he preferred sad, depressing, mournful music. He was extremely superior, cunning, powerful, intelligent, and a bit misanthropic, as he considered humanity to be overrated. Though he was dashingly handsome with a debonair smile on the outside, he considered himself not only an Angel of Music, but a God of Deformity. Despite his face being perfect, he always wore a mask of impassivity when playing music for the public. He was surrounded by beautiful and wealthy women who vied for his attentions, but they were often incredibly shallow or boring, only looking to get into his bed for the night. He longed for more stimulating conversation, full of passion and intellect. The only way to keep himself sane while suffering through idle chat and pleasantries was to escape through his life’s work, treating his music as incomplete masterpieces he was eager to finish.

Following the king’s death, Erik learned of his lineage and the conditions of his curse, but never revealed these truths to Prince Adam. It was better for him to be a best friend and advisor to the prince, rather than a brother and prince himself. He blamed his father for his disfigurement, but he was secretly scared of his corpse and had refused to attend the funeral. As much as he hated the man, maybe his father was right when he used to say that ignorance is bliss.

In another kingdom, the prince fell ill. The widowed king dearly loved his last surviving son and heir, and doctors tried everything but he grew weaker and weaker. They told the king about a mythical rose that witches were rumored to use to cure any illness. The king searched the whole kingdom for the rose to no avail, and his campaign soon became a gruesome witch hunt. His path was lined with the witches he had slain, but the rose was nowhere to be found. Exhausted, bloody, and at his wit's end, the king came to a witch's house on the outskirts of his kingdom. He fell to his knees, begging the witch to help cure his son, and she agreed. The witch explained that the rose held tremendous power that could only very carefully be used for good, and instructed he only use a single petal. Using the whole bloom would only invite death. The prince began to recover, but discontent at the royal line had grown in the kingdom following the king’s bloody campaign. The next day, the king found his son murdered in his bed, and the last light holding his darkness at bay was snuffed out.

Heartbroken, the king turned to the bloom which had promised life, and instead saw it as an escape from his suffering. Lonely and depressed, he felt that all hope was lost after so much tragedy. He was too old to remarry and believed himself to have been cursed. He left his castle with nothing but the rose in hand, and wandered off into the icy wastes of a cruel and bitter winter, hoping to die somewhere his body could never be found and thus end the curse he believed he was put under. Instead, he came across the corpse of a woman who had frozen to death underneath a dead man hanging from a noose. In her arms, he found you, a still living baby girl who became blind due to being out in the elements. In his madness, you bore a remarkable resemblance to his late queen. He believed you to be his daughter and of his blood, so he took you in. The witch, having come to visit the king and the prince, looked at the nightmarish scene in despair. She raised a mountain on top of the king, erecting a dome of rock around the castle to imprison him and prevent him from wreaking further havoc across the land.

You grew up to be a virtuous, graceful beauty, but since you’d been blind since birth, no one had ever told you nor did you know that you were a princess. You lived in a beautiful enclosed garden within the king's castle, secluded from the world, in the care of loyal servants. The king feared you’d be targeted and killed if you were to ever learn you were the princess, so you never learned the truth until you came of age and were betrothed to marry Prince Adam of France. You were raised unaware of the circumstances surrounding the tragedies the king suffered or of his madness. You knew nothing of the witch. As far as you knew, as the daughter of the king, you never expected to inherit anything until a tragic accident caused the deaths of all your brothers and made you his sole legitimate heir. Now he expected you to act as a proper princess after being absent from your whole life.

You were a bright spot of happiness within the castle. You had a lovely singing voice and cared about everyone, living or dead, and everyone loved you in return. Your attendants would bring flowers and sing with you. Your garden was beautiful and full of a wide variety of blossoming wildflowers, except for roses. No matter what color roses were planted in your garden, they all turned out black in the end and smelled like death. Roses had become so rare that they were the most sought after flower in your kingdom, sold at high prices in black markets, under guard in national museums, etc.

You often declared your sadness, and your vague sense that you were missing something important that other people could experience. Your father insisted that you mustn’t discover your blindness and that your betrothed wasn’t to find out about this until after you were married. Your father had you and Prince Adam married by proxy before you had even met. A further ceremonial wedding and festivities followed by the ritual bedding would come later.

Your family had passed down a heirloom for generations: A hand mirror of medium size, framed in pure silver with ornate vine scrollwork. It was tradition that, upon their wedding day, each inheritor must look into the mirror at least once. It was said to be an enchanted mirror that could show you your soulmate, but your reflection never changed when it was your turn to look. However, ever since you’d looked into the mirror, you’d been haunted by a pale and faceless man that only you could see when you closed your eyes. He was there, behind your eyelids and inside your mind. The man moved in slow motion and, when you slept at night, you didn’t dream.

Your new husband, Prince Adam, arrived at the court with his best friend, Erik. The prince and Erik were warned by your loyal servants not to speak of light, colors, or anything of the sort with you. Wanting to bring you a wedding gift, the king arrived with a famed Persian physician who stated that you could be cured, but the physical cure would only work if you were psychologically prepared by being made aware of your own blindness. You appreciated the thought, but you had no will to see as others did and refused your father’s gift. You were born this way and loved yourself as you were. You believed you could see, you just saw things differently or saw so much more. The king supported your decision and refused the treatment, fearing for your happiness if the cure should fail after you’d learned what you were missing.

Erik found the entrance to your secret garden, ignoring the sign which threatened death to anyone who entered. He stumbled upon you singing without realizing who you were and instantly fell in love. Prince Adam, astounded by his friend’s behavior, was convinced you were a sorceress who had bewitched Erik. Prince Adam ordered him to leave but Erik was too entranced, so he departed with the promise he’d be back to save him.

“I am Maestro Erik, court composer and your most humble servant.”

You sang a magnificent duet together. Erik, who asked you to give him a certain flower as a keepsake, realized you were blind when you twice offered him different flowers with similar scents. You wished more than anything for a rose, but only black roses grew here and you didn’t know why. You had no concept of light, vision, or blindness. You fell in love with Erik after he explained light and color to you, believing him to be the faceless man from the mirror and your soulmate. When Prince Adam returned with your father, Erik admitted to seeing the warning sign at the garden entrance. The furious king threatened to execute Erik for revealing the truth to you, but spared him after Prince Adam realized you were his wife. He spoke for Erik, vouching for his character. The king relented, and let Erik return to France with you and your new husband.

Though Erik reciprocated your love, he felt conflicted and unworthy of you because of his curse and his deformities. He exclusively wore masks that covered his entire face. He only told you the color of his eyes, but nothing more. You loved him anyway, but you were born to privilege and with that came specific obligations. You were forced by your father to marry Prince Adam and, although you were spared the brunt of his cruelty, you still had to live year after year witnessing how monstrous your new husband was. From mistreating the castle servants to taxing the townspeople too high while doing nothing to help ease their hardships and burdens, you regretted your arranged marriage.

Despite being a princess, you were still a woman in a man’s world and could do nothing to free yourself from this loveless and miserable union. You and Prince Adam may have consummated your marriage out of duty, but you never shared his bed after that night and kept to separate rooms. If you had to keep Erik in secret and only love him in the dark, then that was enough for you. It had to be enough for you. Even if you longed for more. A life without love was no life at all, so you and Erik had no other choice. No matter how much you loved Erik, you could only love him at night and he had to depart before the lark sang. Every morning you’d have your kitchen maid procure a special tea for you to ensure you didn’t come to be with child. This was your fate and you’d accepted it, but Erik hadn’t. He’d brought up fantastical ideas of running away and eloping, but you wouldn’t hear of it.

“My father forbids me to end my marriage to the prince, Erik. Doing so, especially for a man like you, an untitled bachelor without family who hides his face behind a mask and accrues his wealth from dubious means, would ruin me. It’d cause a scandal so great I could never recover from it. I had to marry a man of substance, father said. A certain wealthy prince. In the eyes of the royal court, you won’t amount to anything but, in my eyes, you’re worth the whole lot of them put together. I fear I would’ve killed myself by now, were it not for the unbearable thought of leaving you behind. My heart can’t bear to inflict such cruelty onto you. You don’t deserve that. But I can’t run away with you, no matter how much I may want to. The wants and desires of a woman, even a princess, are irrelevant.”

As much as he hated it, he understood and reluctantly respected your decision. You and Erik were so in love. You saved him from his solitude, you were the light in the darkness of his existence, but you seemed to be kept apart by forces beyond your control. Still, the maestro gave you, his Angel of Music, a bundle of red roses with a fake one nestled inside, and told you that you'd be with him until the last one withered.

One winter’s night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. You, the mistress of the castle, showed kindness to the old woman as she let you feel the petals. They were so soft, softer than any flower you held before, and it smelled sweet, far sweeter than any other rose. You simply asked what color the rose was since you couldn’t see. When she told you it was red, you were amazed. Erik had told you about red when he gave you your first bouquet of roses, how it symbolized love and passion. He described it as the color of the sun or fire, bringing warmth to the hearts of men. Your kingdom had been cursed to only grow black roses that reeked of death, so to have a rose of such a vibrant color in full bloom, especially in the depths of this freezing winter, seemed like magic. You were about to let her inside and have a servant show her to a spare bedroom for the night so she could warm up and settle in, but your husband stopped you, cruelly snatching the rose from your hand and pulling you away from the old woman.

Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within. And when he dismissed her again, the old woman's ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart, and as punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle, and all who lived there - even you, the princess who showed her compassion. She spared you as much as she could, not wanting your kindness to go unrewarded, but the prince and everyone else in the castle had to learn a lesson. She let you keep your human form, but erased your and Prince Adam’s memories of each other after your marriage so that you’d both have the chance to find true love in the future. However, by doing this, she inadvertently erased your memories of Erik since you only met and started your love affair after you and the prince were married. The enchantress had good intentions and thought she was doing you a great kindness, but her gift was a curse.

After the enchantress placed her curse upon the castle, turning Prince Adam into a beast and everyone else into household objects, he thought that you'd learn to love him since you were still blind and couldn’t see him. He thought you were disgusted with him because of his beastly appearance. In turn, you called him out on this, saying the real reason had to do with his arrogance and cruelty. You still despised him anyway because he was cruel, selfish, and unkind, with no love in his heart. Ever since then, the Beast showed nothing but shame for his actions and hated his cruel father for raising him to be a tyrant, even tearing up a portrait of himself out of anger. Even the servants themselves were in full regret of their reluctance to speak out against the king, implying that they truly despised him for his cruel nature. To you and Beast, you had never married and were only betrothed. Your fathers were both dead by this point, so you didn’t see any reason to go through with the wedding. You left him, claiming that people don't hate him because of his appearance, but because of how he acts, and that he's not some terrifying beast or powerful prince, but a pathetic human named Adam.

After you left, enchantment was the only good thing that happened to Erik. He was turned into a pipe organ and could use music to move nearby objects, but couldn’t move himself, as his new form was far too large and bolted to the wall. But he found himself more useful to his master as a composer and was willing to do everything in his power to stay in that new form. He developed powerful abilities, which he could release through his own music, and became obsessed with it. He wanted more. To possess this forbidden magic, Erik had to sacrifice a memory of equal value. His thoughts about you might’ve given him pause in the past, but you were gone and it didn’t seem like you were ever coming back. He no longer cared about losing his memories for a spell. Falling in love with you while you were married to his brother was painful enough, but his nights with you offered him some respite. He took solace in knowing neither you nor Adam were aware of this family secret, though this comfort was cold and tainted with bitterness. Your miserable marriage to his brother combined with your memory erasure and leaving was too much for Erik to bear, so he erased all his memories of you in exchange for these dark powers. His father was right after all! Ignorance was bliss.

The Beast considered him much more valuable as an advisor and confidant, and found his depressing arrangements of notable classical music somehow made him feel better. It was said that music soothes the savage beast, and they couldn't be more correct. Erik kept the Beast isolated from everyone else in the castle, and close to himself in order to prevent the spell from breaking, which had remained for 10 long years. Erik was a good talker, as he was able to captivate the spirits, to insinuate his hypnotic music, to convince everybody with honeyed words and a soft voice. He appeared to the Beast as his "best friend", but he was actually manipulating him because he wanted to remain as a pipe organ forever and sought some attention. However, this attitude was only displayed because he was quite afraid to fade in the background, afraid that he’d be forgotten. He wasn’t appreciated by anyone as the inhabitants of the castle seemed to ignore him at the least, except for the Beast. The Beast came to him often to hear his soothing music, which would ease his tormented soul.

“Your music is the only thing that helps me forget.”

“Don't worry, old friend. I'm here for you, just as I have been, just as I always will be.”

The more magic Erik used, the more he deviated from being human, not just in body but in mind as well. Moreover, the type of magic he used influenced the changes that occurred within him. He slowly became corrupted by his own desperate desire to be loved. Without you by his side, Erik became arrogant, evil, sarcastic, manipulative, acrimonious, obstreperous, and somewhat paranoid. Under the curse, he composed tirelessly his next opera, “Don Juan Triumphant”, whose sole purpose was to make the castle collapse.

“Erik! Stop the noise!”

“Noise? Noise?! This is my masterpiece.”

You’d lived in castles and palaces among the richest people of any age. But never, never had you stood in greater luxury than when you moved into this quaint little town and lived the life of a simple peasant, surrounded by townspeople who didn’t know who you once were. You loved the hustle and bustle of running errands and doing daily chores, you loved being part of a community and helping others, you loved wearing much simpler dresses, you loved getting dirty and feeling tired in a good way from a hard day’s work. You befriended a lovely woman named Belle, who was about your age, and her father, Maurice. Though they both seemed to be the talk of the town and considered “odd”, you came to love them like family.

Maurice was a musician who was traveling to a music festival to perform. But since the curse, the world had lost its music and melody. All composers in town became superstitious, believing in a “Curse of the 9th Symphony”, its origins unknown. Maurice was a skeptic and, having premiered his 8th symphony last night on stage, a mysterious hooded figure handed him a letter after the performance. “After your 9th,” it said, “I will return. He has a job for you.” Maurice then went missing while on his way home, shortly after his 9th symphony. Philippe returned alone. When Belle went in search of her missing father, you insisted on going with her, not wanting her to get lost in the woods like Maurice might’ve. These woods were dangerous, especially at night when the wolves came out. When you came up to the tall iron gates and Belle found Maurice’s hat, you cursed to yourself. Of course you’d be brought back here. Escape was an illusion, it seemed. Oh, cruel fate, would this nightmare ever end?

While in the castle, Maurice had come across a silver music box. The music box was empty, the cords cut yet, somehow, a song started playing when he opened it. How was this accomplished? He fiddled with the music box and wound it up, making the princess figurine spin in a dance. Unbeknownst to him, it was something never seen in at least a decade. It had been a wedding present for you but, after the curse was cast, the Beast’s heart stayed dark from that moment on. Its melody brought back the Beast’s bad memories; all his mistakes, all his regrets, and all his pain. For the master of the castle, it was a Pandora’s Box that contained many horrors. Each note of that lovely melody seemed to deepen the Beast’s anguish. He couldn't bear to hear it. When Maurice opened it, the Beast could hear it from the West Wing and flew into a rage. He picked up Maurice, carried him out of the room and slammed the door, plunging the den into darkness. For daring to trespass and open your music box, Maurice was Beast’s prisoner, sentenced to rot in the dungeons forever.

When Belle took her father’s place as the Beast’s prisoner, you insisted on staying with her and the Beast let you, giving you your old room back. While the Beast had destroyed his own room, yours remained untouched and was just as you left it 10 years ago. You didn’t tell Belle about the curse nor your complicated history with the Beast because, as much as you may not have seen eye to eye in your past turbulent relationship, you still believed he could change. He deserved that chance to love and be loved in return. You worried that Beast's psychological state would become increasingly feral the longer he was under the curse, such that he would eventually lose his last vestiges of humanity and become completely wild if the spell couldn’t be broken. You wanted the spell to be broken, if not for his sake, then for everyone else in the castle. Everyone, even you, played against Erik, trying to provoke love between Belle and the Beast to break the spell. But Erik wouldn’t be deterred so easily, and continued plotting and scheming in the shadows of the West Wing.

“Trust me. Humanity is entirely overrated. Before the enchantment, there was no need for my particular brand of genius. But now, the master needs my melodies to feed his tormented soul. I am his confidant and his best friend...and I won't let some peasant girl ruin it for me! I will see to it that this blossoming love withers on the vine.”

Neither you nor Erik could remember each other, but you both had this indescribable feeling that wouldn’t go away. You weren’t sure what it was exactly. Even before you officially met again, it almost felt like a pull, a thought trying to break out from the back of your minds, or a strange sense of Deja Vu. Erik hated it with a passion and played his music loudly to drown it out, while you were just confused. While exploring the castle and reacquainting yourself with everything, You could’ve sworn you heard a man’s voice hypnotizing you, seducing you, urging you to enter the West Wing. The Beast’s room. But you couldn’t possibly! It was forbidden! The Beast had warned both you and Belle! And yet…

“Yes, my dear. Come to me.”

You felt like you’d been in this room before. A strange sense of familiarity washed over you as you felt around the walls to guide yourself, but for some indiscernible reason, you hated this room and everything in it. Avoiding broken furniture and other obstacles in your way, you felt fresh air coming from an open window and approached the balcony. You felt around a small table until your hand brushed against something cold and made of glass. A bell jar. When you touched it, you felt warmth and light emanating from underneath it. Next to it, you picked up something cold and heavy. You felt the engravings and markings decorating the frame and handle, and your fingers tapped against the glass of its face. Your handheld mirror that your father once gave you. But it was glowing just like the bell jar and you could hear strange crackling noises coming from it, almost like lightning. What had the enchantress done to it?

You were about to inspect it further, but you could hear music coming from an adjacent room. The door was left ajar and, when Erik noticed you were looking at him, he immediately doused his candles and fell silent. Wandering over to the organ, you spotted a half-finished set of sheet music set aside, complete with inkwell and quill. Curious, you sat down at the organ and began reading it.

“Don’t touch that!” Erik’s voice snapped, seemingly coming from nowhere and scaring you half to death as you were chased away from the organ. You looked around frantically and reached out your hands, confused when you felt no one around you. You thought maybe it was a ghost or ventriloquism, until you realized it was the pipe organ itself that was talking to you, towering over you with a scrutinizing glare that you couldn’t see but could feel. Right. Enchanted castle. You’d never gotten used to it back then, and you still wouldn’t. Not now, not ever. But you felt a strange sense of longing when you heard his voice. He scoffed in disgust whenever you mentioned love or breaking the spell.

“A daring woman, cursed with such beauty but never able to see it, a pity even. A beauty such as yourself, meets beasts in dark hallways and forbidden rooms? An act of love or lust, so you say? Beasts know nothing of the sort. Empty your heart, cast it aside, I say. Dreadful beasts we are, no less? Beauty may fool a blind man, but no beast!”

Months passed. The enchanted rose continued to wilt. Christmas was coming. The Beast, wanting to get a present for Belle, ordered Erik to compose a song for her, much to Erik’s disgust. The girl was evil. She held the master from Erik’s grasp. She filled his head with dreams of love and hope! Yech!

“I want you to compose a song. It's a present…for Belle. And make it happy!”

“Oh, but happiness is so depressing! What's next? Love songs?! Wedding marches?! It's all that girl's fault.”

He had fabricated another curse, a false one to orchestrate distrust within the nearby villages so that the townspeople would either ban music and/or turn on each other. If he instilled fear and superstition so there was no competition, then he’d definitely be the best musician in the world! His plot to get Maurice killed had failed, but he could still go after his daughter. She was a threat to his plans. He twisted Belle’s words and emotionally manipulated her so she’d want to get a Christmas tree in the Black Forest beyond a frozen lake. He lured her away from the castle, and did everything in his power so she’d never come back. While she was away, Erik told the Beast that Belle had abandoned him, thus stoking Beast's anger. He then tried to goad the Beast into destroying the enchanted rose, the symbol of the curse, but the Beast ultimately decided not to when a rose petal landed on the storybook from Belle, thus allowing him to regain his senses. Erik’s plan to drive Belle and the Beast apart almost worked, but was ultimately foiled by the Beast.

“So, Beast gets girl, and it's a happy ending for everyone. Enchantment lifted...and Erik fades into the background. No longer important...no longer needed…I THINK NOT!”

Enraged at the failure of his plan to break up Belle and the Beast's relationship, Erik lost what was left of his sanity and gave into his destructive and suicidal thoughts that had plagued his mind for years. He had no regard for his own life as he was willing to take everyone's lives in the castle along with his own to ensure that the spell remained intact. With the Beast having broken free of his hypnotic control, Erik believed he had nothing else to live for and attempted to bring the castle down with his loud music, playing “Don Juan Triumphant” more intensely to rupture the walls and shatter the windows. He shook the walls to pieces, debris fell, the floors began to separate and created perilous chasms.

“Maestro, stop! What do you think you're doing?”

“Don't you see? They can't fall in love if they're DEAD! You could've joined me, but I see my triumph is a solo act! We can remain as we are, FOREVER AND EVER!”

“ERIK! ENOUGH!”

Erik was finally defeated when the Beast ripped out his keyboard from him, which ceased his contact with his pipes. In a blind rage, Erik tore himself free of the wall and began to collapse, effectively killing himself as he crashed to the ground, destroyed. Despite Erik’s true colors being exposed and his diabolical plans foiled, the Beast mourned Erik’s demise, as he still considered him to be his closest friend.

After the curse was broken, everyone was turned back into humans, and yours and Prince Adam’s memories were restored. You both remembered that you were technically still married and thus had extramarital affairs - you before the curse, and he during the curse. But this realization wasn’t awkward. What was there to forgive? You and Adam were forced into marriage by your fathers and each fell in love with another, it happens. You just considered yourselves even. It took lots of paperwork, but with his signature here, and your signature there, you and Prince Adam officially dissolved your marriage, much to both yours and his relief. You let bygones be bygones after your divorce and considered yourselves friends, no hard feelings. The prince assured you that you’d always be welcome here in his castle, and it was your choice whether you wanted to stay, return to your kingdom, or go elsewhere.

While everyone was downstairs celebrating in the ballroom, you went back to the West Wing, to the prince’s room where Erik was. You remembered him. Oh, your poor darling! Your dear Erik had suffered so much sadness and so much pain, surrounded by people yet completely alone in the castle for all those years. He was human again but he laid deathly still, face down on the floor. You took out the music box and it played that familiar melody, your song. The enchantress appeared one last time and used her magic to resurrect Erik. She couldn’t condone his abuse of forbidden and evil magic, but she’d seen for herself he’d been punished enough. She asked for your forgiveness. She only ever wanted to give you a chance to find true love and happiness, but she didn’t realize you already had it. Consider this parting gift from her her repentance for inadvertently cursing you. She wouldn’t bend or break the laws of life and death for just anyone, but true love was the most magical gift of all, so she did it once for Belle and Adam, and again for you and Erik. She would no longer interfere with either yours and Erik’s or Belle and Adam’s happy endings. You needn’t do anything to repay her, just go on and live happily ever after.

When Erik woke up, his memories of you were restored. You were discovered by the prince, and he was so relieved and ecstatic to see his best friend alive. Erik finally pledged his love for you in front of the prince, not caring that you were blind and married, unaware you had already ended your marriage contract moments before. The prince gave you to Erik with his blessing, not that you ever needed it, but you and Erik appreciated it. Erik moved into your bedchamber where he would often awaken to the sun streaming through the curtains and the lark singing, just like he had always dreamed. No more hiding under the cloak of night, no more sneaking through secret passageways. He relished in finally sharing your bed, but he had a difficult time adjusting to being human again. He still experienced trauma from the curse, and was plagued by nightmares at night. He confided in you his guilt and regrets, his fears and anxieties, and all his insecurities while you gently rubbed his back, drew patterns on his chest, or held his hand. He felt like he maybe didn’t deserve to be this happy after all he had done.

“It's just...it was different when we were all cursed objects. When we could move around freely and act however we wanted to. When I could just play my music. When I knew exactly how to get the master to smile and relax with my music. Even if it meant we'd be cursed forever, I was happier as a pipe organ." 

“And it’s going to take time, my love, but we can learn to be happy again, as humans. As husband and wife, if you’ll still have me. I’m sorry for all that I’ve put you through. I’m sorry for making you wait so long.”

“Now that I finally have you in my arms again, ten years didn’t feel long at all. I would wait a thousand years more and still take you to be my bride.”

The four of you eventually held a double wedding in the castle. As soon as the rings were exchanged and Erik kissed his bride, the curse placed upon him at birth was finally broken. But when the bright light encompassing him had dissipated, instead of a handsome man, his face was still that of a living corpse. His eyes were so deep that one could hardly see the fixed pupils, just two big black holes, as in a dead man's skull. His skin, which was stretched across his bones like a drumhead, wasn’t white, but a nasty yellow. His nose was so little worth talking about that one couldn’t see it side-face; and the absence of that nose was a horrible thing to look at. All the hair he had was three or four long dark locks on his forehead and behind his ears. But you saw nothing ugly in your husband at all, he was absolutely perfect. He was beauty itself, and you didn’t need your eyesight to see that.

“My love, are you okay?”

“Well, yes. But I don’t understand. I’m supposed to be beautiful.”

“Oh, Erik, but you are beautiful.”

The double wedding was a grander celebration than the one that was held after the curse was lifted. The festivities lasted an entire week, and you all sang together of the magical new world now visible to you as the court and townspeople rejoiced.

[theredviper]

SYLUS "THE RELENTLESS CONQUEROR"

— Love & Deepspace (2023), dev. InFold [x]

[eatfishies]

Intoxicated By Your Sweet Taste 🔞

summary: Zayne thinks he hasn’t given you much attention due to his work.

or

Pussy drunk! Zayne can’t get enough of you.

word count: 2k tags: NSFW, zayne x reader (afab), no plot just filth, oral sex, oral fixation, cunnilingus, clit play, swearing, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, overstimulation, coming multiple times, domestic fluff at the end, pet names, breeding kink, creampie, established relationship fish notes: as always, pls heed the tags ~ nevertheless, this fic was inspired by this twt here ! hope all of u enjoy <3 ── ao3 link ★ ˙ ̟ | my twt !

It was past midnight when the door creaked open, revealing a tired looking Zayne. She was already in bed, snuggled up with the plushies her dear lover got for her. Zayne smiled at the sight before striding towards her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

That action caused her to stir, fluttering her eyes open to look at her partner. “You’re back.” She mumbled sleepily.

Zayne gently stroked her hair, lulling her back to sleep. “Go back to sleep, love.” He said as he continued to play with her hair.

“I’ll only sleep if you do too.” She replied, which earned her a small smile from Zayne.

Once he had finished showering, she couldn’t help but marvel at his chiseled chest, glistening with droplets of water, running down ever so slowly. She tore her eyes away, feeling a little bit flushed.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by her observant lover though as Zayne pointed out, “Weren’t you half awake earlier? It seems like you’ve got your attention elsewhere now.”

She didn’t even bother to attempt and deflate herself because it’s true. She is enjoying this view very much.

Just like that, she hoisted herself up and had her eyes solely on him. Desire and lust coursing through her veins. “Yeah… you’re not wrong. It’s because you’re so fucking hot, you know that?”

A chuckle rumbled out of Zayne, a little surprised by her bold declaration, considering how sleepy she was earlier. “Ah, so that’s what caught your attention?”

Before she could even reply, Zayne is already making his way to the bed. Her eyes widened slightly as he pushed her down gently, making her gaze up at him.

“Have I neglected my darling? Am I not pleasuring you enough?” He spoke as his face inched closer. She felt her breath hitched in her throat as the pit of her stomach coiled with pure lust.

The words she wanted to say were caught up, speechless by the sudden mood change. She bit her lip, “What are you gonna do if I say yes?”

Thick, strong fingers found its way to cup her face, “Then I shall take it upon myself to satisfy you until all your needs are met.” Without any hesitation, Zayne closed the distance between them and passionately kissed her.

She gasped as his other hand went to grab her hips, keeping her firmly in place as his tongue explored her mouth. Every ounce of sleepiness she had in her quickly vanished, instantly replaced by a primal hunger for him. She needs, no, she yearned to be one with him. To feel him in every way possible.

“Don’t… hold back.” He murmured in between her lips before he moved to trail kisses down on her neck, eliciting moans and whimpers. She closed her eyes shut, taking in the pleasure she’s receiving as he continued to suck and bite on her neck, leaving behind marks.

It was just a pure coincidence that she decided to wear a nightgown but she’s thankful nevertheless since it gave Zayne easy access to slip his hand up and caress her soft skin, feeling her up. She can feel her pussy growing needier and wetter with each touch he makes.

She sucked in a deep breath when his fingers began to rub against her slick, “Someone’s excited.” Zayne remarked as he suddenly pulled his fingers away and moved down to crouch in between her legs.

Instinctively, she spread wide open, staring down at him. “So wet for me… you really want this, hm?” She nodded eagerly, “Please… I need it.”

The once impassive doctor morphed into something else entirely. His expression held a plethora of emotions behind them as he felt his own hardness beneath his towel. “Very well. Scream for me princess.”

Any sort of thoughts she conjured up turned into nothing the moment Zayne licked her drooling pussy. His tongue expertly flicked her clit as she laid back down on the bed and writhed in intense pleasure.

“F- fuck! Zayne… hghh!” She moaned out as Zayne lapped at her needy cunt, savoring all of her wetness, wanting to taste all of her.

Her hands immediately tugged onto his hair, pulling him closer to her crotch as she screamed out his name repeatedly. It was too good that she could barely keep still, Zayne held onto her thighs to stop her from squirming.

The familiar pit in her stomach intensified, itching her closer to release. “Hahh…! Z- Zayne! I’m close, I’m so close!” She whined out, to which he kept tonguing her entrance vigorously until she arched her back and came all over his face.

Zayne pulled away slightly and licked his lips. There are traces of pussy juice on his mouth but he didn’t care. Not when his precious sweetheart tastes so divine. Before she could even beg him to put his hard shaft inside her, she gasped once she felt Zayne’s tongue on her folds again.

“W- wait! I… I just came!” She exclaimed, feeling like her legs were gonna give out from pleasure. But Zayne paid no mind as he resumed his ministrations on her sopping wet cunt. Even after orgasming, her pussy still throbbed for more.

At this point, she’s pretty sure she’s on cloud nine, especially when Zayne sucked on her nub, making her tremble. Green eyes observing her movements, watching as she moans and whimpers. Looking beautiful like this, Zayne wanted to keep this memory etched into his mind forever.

It was unbearable, she tried to push him away but he kept a strong grip on her legs, his tongue relentlessly flicking her eager pussy, swallowing all of her juices. He can feel himself getting intoxicated by her dripping cunt. There is nothing more rewarding than coming home everyday and getting to lap at her entrance like a starved man whilst also relishing her delightful sounds.

“C- coming!” Her hands scrambled for purchase as she came undone. Zayne lifted his head and spoke in a raspy voice, “Did you feel good, honey?”

There was no single coherent thought in her mind right now. She couldn’t even think properly, it’s all a muddled mess, too foggy with pleasure. Sensing her pliant demeanor, Zayne moved to her side, brushing off the strands of her hair from her face.

“You’re so good for me, dear.” Was the only thing she heard before Zayne trailed his fingers down to caress her inner thighs, igniting goosebumps all over. She weakly muttered, “What are you doing?” Instead of responding, Zayne leaned down and pecked her lips. “Are you a good girl for me?”

His finger easily slipped in her gaping pussy, thrusting it in and out, earning a mewl from her. She bit her lips, “T- too sensitive... Zayne…” She clutched onto his arm, looking at him with glassy eyes.

“I said, are you a good girl?” Zayne repeated his question but this time, he inserted another finger in, taking away all of her last resolve.

“Mhmm… ah! Yes! Yes!” That further drove Zayne to keep plunging his fingers deep inside her gummy walls.

It has been hours since Zayne has been pushing her far off into her limits. Sleep be damned as he is now lapping up at her loose, dripping cunt. She could only let out soft mewls and moans whenever he skillfully buried his head in between her thighs. No amount of protest could get him to stop. It’s like Zayne has been possessed by an insatiable lust demon or some sort, at least that’s what she thought.

Tears stained her cheeks as she stared at Zayne who was lazily eating her out. “Zayne… please…”

He gave her pussy one last lick before meeting her teary gaze, “Please what?”

“Please… fuck me…” She pleaded, her hands reaching out to pull him on top of her. “You’ve been torturing my pussy non-stop… I want to make you feel good too.”

“Ah, I see. So, my needy princess wants it that bad?” He spoke as he discarded his towel. It’s kind of amazing at how he managed to hold back his desire to mount her completely, especially since she looked ravishing like this. Blissed out and glowing from the amount of orgasm she lets out.

She nodded eagerly, “Give it to me, please? I’ve been so good.” To emphasize, she wrapped her legs around his hips, trying to close the gap between them and feel his body against hers.

“I guess someone deserves it, after all.” With ease, Zayne lined his cock on her entrance, sliding it in and immediately began to thrust.

While their love-making session was always tender, albeit sometimes a bit passionate, it was never really like this. Intense and unrelenting with vigor as Zayne continued to pound into her deep. Her cunt spasming and clenching tightly around his cock. “Fuck… you feel so wonderful around me, sweetheart.”

Even if she wanted to say something, each thrust made her eyes roll back. Her mind is running into an overdrive as Zayne picks up his pace, unfaltering and burning with the need to come inside her.

Noticing Zayne’s furrowed brows and his eyes closed shut, “Come for me. Come inside me, baby. Want you to breed me.” She spoke, her voice laced with urgency and desperation.

At last, Zayne thrusted inside her hard before stilling, heaving and burying his face in her neck. She smiled at him dazedly as she cards her fingers through his hair. When Zayne pulled out, he watched in fascination at how her cunt drooled with cum. The sight alone made him want to ravage her right then and there, but he knew, they both had to sleep.

So, instead, Zayne helped clean her up and cuddled her as they both drifted off to slumber.

Something was wet… and there were sounds of shuffling. When she woke up, her eyes widened as she saw Zayne languidly circling her clit with his tongue. “H- huh?” She uttered out, confused and yet, Zayne only mumbled out, “Lay back. Let me please you once more before I leave for work.”

How could she refuse when her lover had asked so sweetly? She did as he instructed and laid back down on the soft bed, letting him spread her wide open. At this point, she had lost track of how many times she came, especially from last night.

This time, Zayne made sure to take his time, flicking her folds ever so slowly. One part of her felt like he was torturing her but another part of her couldn’t help but preened at how good it feels when he’s savoring her like this.

The morning sun casted a soft glow around the room, making this even more enjoyable as she focused on Zayne, tasting every drop her cunt oozed, not letting any of it go to waste. The slurping sound reverberated across the walls as she flushed.

Despite coming so many times, the familiar pit in her stomach still lingered, coiling and intensifying as she neared her climax. “Hghh… Zayne… baby, I’m so close.” She meekly mewled out, her legs shaking. Zayne sucked on her nub and sneakily thrusted a finger into her cunt, scissoring her whilst he ate her out.

Just like that, it was enough to drive her to the edge. She came, hard on his face. Her vision blurs and she shuts her eyes closed, letting the euphoria wash over her.

She faintly heard Zayne uttering a soft, “I love you” to her before getting up and tucking her in bed.

The second time she woke up, she found that Zayne had already left for work. She groggily got out of bed and headed to the kitchen. There, she found a plate of breakfast ready made for her and a bouquet of flowers.

Her body was sore all over but this gesture made it all worth it. Smiling, she walked up to the table and picked up the bouquet, smelling the flowers before sitting down and stuffing the food, the tiredness fading away and was replaced by hunger.

Luckily for her, she had a day off today and was able to cozy up at home until Zayne comes back. He gave her a fond smile as he placed the bag on the coffee table, “I got you macarons from the cafe. What do you feel like having for dinner? Let me cook for you.”

Safe to say, she is indeed a lucky girl to be able to love and be with Zayne.

[afterglowsainz]

eternal sunshine | charles leclerc

summary: you and charles decide to fake date to get back at your exes

fc: ariana grande

a/n: a bit late (mostly because i didn’t had any time nor inspiration) but finally here it is, a fic about THE 2024 monaco grand prix winner

—

liked by arthur_leclerc and others

f1.wags charles leclerc posted a statement earlier today confirming the end of his relationship with his girlfriend

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username NOOOOOO

username pls say sike pls say sike

username definitely not the way i wanted to start the weekend like

username so love is dead guys good to know 💔

username they were the it couple 😢

username im going to pretend i didn’t see this

liked by bffusername and others

ynupdates it’s confirmed that y/n y/l/n and her boyfriend have broken up after fours years of dating

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username WHAT

username omg nooo😭

username why is everyone breaking up!!!

username i don’t believe in love anymore

username her best friend liked the post so it’s really really true i’m gonna cry 😭

username yeah also the sun posted an article saying that a close source to the couple confirmed it

liked by f1.wags, ynupdates and others

deuxmoi actor jacob elordi and actress charlotte berzatto have been spotted recently on different occasions going out on dates

tagged jacobelordi, charlotteberzatto

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username excuse me what?

username and who’s this charlotte girl? 🤨

username she’s an european actress

username charles leclerc’s ex girlfriend

username wait wasn’t he dating y/n y/l/n like two weeks ago? i’m confused

username girl they broke up where you’ve been 😭

username yeah but they broke up like five minutes ago this seems…

username i did not expect that

username not them breaking up with their partners to get together 😭

liked by carmenmmundt, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername new things coming soon who’s happy🫧💐

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username OMG WE’RE GETTING A NEW ALBUM

username you actually just cured my depression with this post

username mother has that post breakup glow

username we love to see it

lilymhe gorgeous! 💕

yourusername lilyyy💘

username the flowers???

username who send them!!!

username jacob elordi count your days

username charles in the likes?? 😭

username they’re friends chill

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and others

charles_leclerc happy times 😁

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username pookie came back! 🫶🏽

username now what is charles doing in a music studio 🤨🤨

username he’s so hot just ughhh

username is that… y/n’s dog… ???

username nah

username now that you mention it i think it could be but idk 😭

username he’s so boyfriend coded

username y/n in the likes 👀👀👀👀

username this just keeps getting messier and messier😭

liked by bffusername, francisca.cgomes and others

ynupdates y/n has been seen recently on multiple dates with formula 1 driver charles leclerc

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username ma’am???

username well this took a turn

username are they actually dating or…

username i meaaan look at that third and last pic and ask again

username the lore on this four people is just endless fr 😭

username they’re so real for swapping partners just like that

username literally blink and you miss it

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and others

yourusername my new single ‘don’t wanna break up again’ is out now for all of you💘 i also sing it for the first time ever on snl tonight if you’re interested in that🫶🏽

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username YES NEW MUSIC FROM MOTHER

username this song ATE

username the queen is back i used to pray for times like this😭

lilymhe such a gooood song💓 (liked by yourusername)

username so you’re telling me THAT man used to turn up the volume of the tv to not hear her cry??? yeah he’s DONE

username i literally heard that and had to pause for a second because what???

username also her calling their relationship of four years a “situationship” 😭😭

username she’s so unserious i love her

charles_leclerc on repeat 24/7 ❤️‍🩹

yourusername 🤍🤍🤍

francisca.cgomes completely obsessed!💖 (liked by yourusername)

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and others

scuderiaferrari such a pleasure to have yourusername on the garage this weekend! 🫧

tagged yourusername, charles_leclerc

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username she looks stunning 🤩

username the pic with charles omg they’re so cute🥰🥰

username y/n in the paddock every race week please and thank you

yourusername tysm! forza ferrari❤️

username babes what other words in italian did charles taught you? i need to know

username dare i say new ferrari it couple?

username the fact that they haven’t confirmed anything 😭

username i mean you don’t really have to be a genius just a bit of common sense

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and others

charles_leclerc keep the podiums coming🏆🐎

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username il predestinato does it again 😮‍💨😮‍💨

username let’s go charles 💪🏽

username yesss charles show y/n what you can do‼️

carlossainz55 nice race!👊🏽

username very well deserved podium, such a nice race charles❤️❤️

username the fact that he was looking for y/n the whole time he was on the podium 😭

username I KNEW I WASNT THE ONLY ONE WHO NOTICED

username no cause bro was looking everyone and once he clocked her the biggest smile on his face

yourusername congratulations! ❤️‍🩹

charles_leclerc ❤️

liked by arthur_leclerc, joris_trouche and others

f1.wags if there was doubt before there definitely isn’t anymore! charles leclerc and singer y/n y/l/n were spotted kissing at the after party of this weekend’s grand prix and leaving together

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username THAT SHOULD BE MEEEE

username don’t know if i wanna be charles or y/n to be honest

username joris and arthur liking this 😭😭

username i love that they’re together they just fit

username agree, a bit unexpected since their exes are also dating each other but still, they’re very cute💕

username okay i wasn’t a fan of y/n but i’m definitely gonna start listening to her now

username does this mean we’re getting happy songs from y/n about charles?

username omg girl I HOPE

liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe and others

yourusername eternal sunshine (the song) is out right now with the very special appearance of charles_leclerc in the music video (❤️) and eternal sunshine (the album) is out next friday! 💕

tagged charles_leclerc

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username i’m so so proud of y/n this song is perfect! can’t wait for the album 🤍

username this is the first time she’s featured a boyfriend in a music video and i’m so down for it🥰

username they’re look cute together!

username them on the bts of the video 💞💞💞

lilymhe you’re perfect and this song is everything🤍

yourusername love love love you lils 💘

username who would’ve thought mr charles leclerc can ACT!

username “hope you feel alright when you’re in her” i gasped

username no because that took me by surprise

username okay but we got “i got a good boy and he’s on my side” so it brought me back hope

charles_leclerc so proud of you, mon coeur❤️

yourusername i love you charlie❤️

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and others

charles_leclerc so so so proud of you my love❤️ this is the most amazing project ever and the fact that i was able to participate in any way brings me so much joy. you’re a musical genius and an incredible human being🤍 stream eternal sunshine☀️

tagged yourusername

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username if you look closely you can see me in the background crying

username this is- they’re so- i’m- 😭

username no but they’re so perfect for each other i could cry

pierregasly who would’ve thought you could act 🤣

carlossainz55 new skill for the cv 😂

username “a musical genius and an incredible human being” charles leclerc why don’t you just rip my heart out yourself

username she looks so pretty in the mv and they’re so good together💞 i’m so happy for them

username no longer a child of divorce THESE are my real parents🫶🏽

yourusername i love you and i’m very very proud of you too❤️‍🩹

charles_leclerc mon amour you’re everything 🤍

[snghnlvr]

don’t test me. / park sunghoon

౨ৎ ## i've never felt this before, i can't hide it, my head is spinning, crazy park sunghoon x fem reader!

synopsis: your test on your best friend decided to have your friendship to the next level.

includes: 3.4k words | childhood friends to lovers | inspo was actually the song brought the heat back because they’re all delusional, like look at the lyrics — actually | lyrics mentioned x2 !! | sunghoon is a hopeless romantic | both of them are bold with their actions el oh el.. | oh taesan BND mention ^3^ | ever after high mentioned !!

extra: actually am back from the dead i’m very sorry LOL | the whole romance: untold album gave me me inspiration to write this.. | hot girl activities of being an enhypen stan <3 | ALSO am redoing my tag list since i’m back after a hot minute, lmk if u wanna be apart of it <3 | love u chiptole pls sponsor me <3

likes, comments, and reposts are appreciated! <3

[below the cut]

what are we doing here at the mall?” sunghoon stares ahead, seeing multiple clothing stores. he sees groups of girls going in and out of them while holding multiple shoppings bags. he sighs, already depicting himself holding bags for you as you go shopping.

“prom shopping, duh.” you proudly stated. your eyes brighten while eyeing each attractive store. 

“what’s the point of going to prom when you don’t have a date?” immediately your mood shut down as sunghoon slammed fact at your face while maintaining his blank stare. he was right, you don’t have a date, like an actual date. your last minute plan was to go with your childhood neighborhood best friend, platonically because disappointingly all of the hot guys in your school got dates. 

“you’re literally my date sunghoon.” you rolled your eyes and looked at sunghoon who seemed to have reddish cheeks. he looked away before you can turn to him, blocking his red cheeks from being seen.

you snickered, knowing that he is embarrassed since sunghoon doesn’t have a date either from his school. well, he rejected all of them. but that confused you more, he rejected all of the girls that asked him out but he didn’t mind going to your prom as your date. you don’t care now because you have a purpose to go prom-dressing.

“ooh windsor seems cute~” you skipped towards the store that caught your eye first. “woah..” your eyes sparkled at the glitterly lavender dress that has a slit on the right side of the leg and have gems around the chest area. this was your dream ever since you were little, going prom dressing and imagining yourself wearing your favorite dresses with your prince charming. 

but it had to be with sunghoon — nothing wrong with sunghoon but he was someone you didn’t expect for him to say yes.

i mean, both of you pinky promised ever since babies that you two would marry each other if both of you stayed single. you wondered if he remembers the same thing.

sunghoon stayed at the corner of the store, eyeing your excited self while scanning the various dresses in front of you as he held your bag after volunteering. he wonders what type of dresses you prefer.

he imagines you in some of the dresses he eyes wander on.

you insisted to keep your bag onto you but he persisted until you give up. his excuse was to “roam freely” — you dead looked at him in the eye replying that it’s bullshit.

you didn’t want to argue with him any further first thing you entered the mall so you let him deal with whatever.   

sunghoon doesn’t know what made him possessed to say yes to you when he received your text. he didn't even pay for prom, he was uninterested, but the thought of going with you - as his date, didn't seem too bad.

he remembered himself blushing crazy when he abruptly received your text message when he was hanging out with his friends. sunghoon took a pause in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at his screen with wide eyes. he slowly turned around and started running towards home, abandoning his startled, questioned friends. they heard silence except his shoes hitting the concrete floor.

two hours later, he replied with “sure” to remain nonclatant but little did you know his face was a blushing mess, feet in cold sweat to the fact he had to wear socks in bed, and his heart rapidly beating to the point he had high blood pressure. his mind was occupied onto you as he stared at your bedroom from across his window, wondering what you’re up to.

his parents were so confused as to why their son was acting this way. he was on cloud 9 when you asked him out but felt a bit sad when you mentioned to go together with plantonic feelings. 

you walked towards sunghoon with shrugged shoulders and a frown that made sunghoon be concered of your expression. “what happened?” sunghoon looked down at you, uttering a deep tone to indicate his concern. he was still seeing your pouty lips and your eyes being tight. “none of them are what i am looking for.”

maybe you’re acting like a spoiled child who cannot find their favorite toy but you believed that prom was the most important event in your life. you wanted to find your perfect dress.

then you opened your eyes, being face to face to sunghoon’s chest which made you feel uneasy at the unfamiliar appearance.

you then realized how close you are with sunghoon so you took a step back.

you sighed, looking up at sunghoon. “it’s fine we have multiple stores.” your motivated smile made sunghoon chuckle.

you left the store, then sunghoon behind you.

“that green looks like a swamp.” “that’s too glittery.” “too long.” “i look like a child of divorce with this dress!”

“i guess you’re picky.” sunghoon teased, ruffling your hair as he followed you exiting the last store. you still had an unsatisfied expression.

you didn’t react to his gesture since it was normal between the two of you. you didn’t mind sunghoon messing up your hair.

sunghoon felt bad and fixed your hair carefully, eyeing each strand of hair being back in the right place originally.

you looked from left to right onto where to explore, slightly giving up but not fully. you wanted to go home already and swallow yourself in your favorite blanket, blasting the AC on high volume while watching ever after high.

countless attempts of finding the right dress for you was too difficult. you’re starting to understand why people buy their dresses months before, you believe that the good batch of dresses were already brought before and you started to panic if you can even find one. 

“there’s nothing wrong with being picky..” you murmured, walking around in hopes another store caught your eye. “of course,” sunghoon responded. he continued. “you should keep your standards high, never settle for less.” you lightly scoffed, turning your head towards sunghoon with a mischevious expression. “is that why you’re still single?” 

you’ve always been curious of sunghoon’s standards are since he remains single throughout your high school years. middle school doesn’t count. his last relationship was a fail because he lost feelings for the girl.

yes, you admit he is shamelessly handsome and he knows that but have a personality of a delicate cat. which makes you laugh once in a while.

you still think of sunghoon as a child in an adult body.

sunghoon seems to be taken aback of your question. he tilted his head, thinking about it. “well…i never thought about it like that. i was gonna be more busier with each year, i’m not gonna have time for relationships.” sunghoon confessed nonchantly since it wasn’t a big deal for him. you nodded, understanding where he was coming from. 

“then..have you liked anyone before?” you questioned, also curious as you eyed the store’s figuerines on display. “that’s cute..” you whispered to yourself before looking back at sunghoon with a smile, waiting expectantly.

sunghoon’s heart jumped. he shivered when he felt the cold air passing behind him, glancing at you to see if you’ve noticed but he was so grateful that you were distracted by some damn figuerines. 

he immediately looked ahead when you looked back at him, geez why can’t i answer?

“n-no.” he choked on his words. you decided to poke his holes further when you noticed how nervous he was. you can read your best friend pretty easily. “really?” you stopped walking which made him also stop. sunghoon turned to his right and he held his breath when you leaned closer to his face, eyeing him like a hawk to justify his truth. “do you like someone now?”

“yes.” he muttered, still staring at your eyes. seconds of staring at each other made your heart suddenly fluttered which was weird and out of the norm. you held in your breath when none of you pulled away yet, continuing to gaze upon each other.

you realized the position you were in, especially when sunghoon easily towered over you. you immediately back away, sunghoon now smirking at your sudden nervousness. “wonder who’s the unfortunate girl..” you gulped on your words.

“why are you single?” sunghoon asked, hands in his pockets as he started walking. you coughed, hands rubbing your tight chest. “e-erm,” you tried to find an excuse. “just like you.. i have other priorities.” you didn’t see the little frown sunghoon made at your response. you weren’t lying but at the same time you were telling the truth. dating felt like it could affect your daily routine and studies.

okay, maybe your best friend seem a bit too handsome for your liking. it’s weird. wait

“how about this store?” sunghoon pointed at a store that was near the exit. you sneaked a glance, interested by the pretty dresses on display. you decided to go. “sure let’s go.” trying to distract yourself on what happened earlier. 

now sunghoon was reflecting on himself and what happened earlier as well as he sat down, waiting for you to try on the dresses. he was frustrated, he wanted you. it has always been you, ever since both of you pinky promised as babies.

that relationship he had in middle school - yeah he thought the girl was pretty but it was only to perform a distraction to get rid of his feeling for you.

your extroverted personality intimidated him ever since growing up. he wonders what makes you fearless and mentally strong. in moments where you fell down countless from playing tag with him, you didn’t cry. oddly - you continued to play with tag despite having a bleeding knee.

but when you would see his displeased face, you would offer him a lollipop that you keep inside your book bag just for fun.

he still has the candy wrapper somewhere inside his drawers.

but you don’t know that. he wanted to know if you were feeling the same way. is it worth ruining the friendship? is there any hope to turn it into something intimate? something more? he’s craving a lot of answers. 

as you were adjusting the dress, your hands slowed down on your straps when you also questioned the same thing. then memories of you and sunghoon started replaying on your mind; where both of you were in his bed one summer night after having a bbq dinner from your parents, talking about your futures together — where the both of you have to be involved in each others’ futures; where sunghoon gives you his hoodie without any question whenever you’re cold, where you packed an extra lunchbox for sunghoon because he was craving your pork cutlets. the past, happy memories slowly transitioned to the memories where you’re now questioning your feelings on sunghoon.

where sunghoon wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him when the train was crowded with people. you felt his chin touch the top of your head. you remembered your heartbeat being in the same speed as the train was going and you were glad sunghoon couldn’t see your blush — where sunghoon offered you to sleep on his shoulder on the way home after hanging out together — where both of your hands would featherly touch each other in random times but immediately both of you let go and feel electric shocks all over the body. 

so you’re gonna put your feelings on the test.

“hoon!” you called out on his nickname. sunghoon immediately paid attention to you. “yeah y/n? what happened?” you scrunched your nose when you hear the concern on his tone. 

you huffed out a breath. “can you help me with the zipper please?” you questioned why your heart is already beating fast. you hear the footsteps coming closer to you and you swore your heart was gonna jump out of the ribcage. 

behind you, you slightly opened the curtain, to prevent not only revealing the dress to him but as well as not wanting to face sunghoon. you can feel his eyes glued onto your back.

sunghoon rolled his tongue inside his cheek, feeling unusual even though he’s childhood friends with you. he noticed your hands trying to zip up your dress.

he took a step closer to you, you shivered when you can feel his chest against your back and your breath lingering on your bare neck. you gulped at the intense silence engulfed by the both of you. 

“silly you.” he let out a slight chuckle. you can feel his slight smirk from behind you.

“just help me park.” you rolled your eyes at his teasing, hoping it’s something to ease the tension. 

“stop moving.” sunghoon hand was lightly placed on your waist which made you frozen. your eyes widened at the sudden touch. his eyes were focused on the zipper, his hands being gently so that he doesn’t hurt you. 

breathe y/n — breathe— 

shit.

you looked up from the ground to curiously see the scene with the mirror in front of you. the first thing was his figure, how his white shirt easily makes his body look good with his headphones around his neck. you can see his fluffy hair that you’re eager to touch. you see sunghoon’s tongue on the corner of his lips to indicate his concentration. your eyes slowly followed his hand, you eyed his watch — his hand on your waist. 

you suddenly wanna pass away. 

sunghoon sighed, “there.” you then immediately looked down to prevent any eye contact. goddamit y/n why are you so shy? 

“thanks.” you grabbed the curtain and shut the room in front of him, whining mentally at your shy self. you stared at yourself in front of the mirror, surprised at how red your cheeks are under the light.

sunghoon stood in front the curtain, surprised with his eyebrows furrowed but then his face relaxed into a soft smile before returning back to seat and waiting for you to reveal the dress to him.

him only. 

“so—“ he heard you through his headphones after some few minutes. you opened the curtain. “how do i do?” as sunghoon was pausing his music and taking his headphones off. you presented yourself wearing the dark red, sparkly dress, standing still and with a smile as you waited for sunghoon’s reponse. you smiled so hard, not containing your excitement that you felt while wearing the dress. it really made you feel like a princess. 

sunghoon stared at you for a couple of seconds then slowly looked down at your figure. how the dress was hugging your body, your curves were being emphasized, how it complimented your skin tone, god you were stunning. you literally looked like a goddess in front of him and he was willing to drop everything and pull you close just like earlier. sunghoon was utterly at a loss of words. his mouth wanted to spill out words but he was frozen.

what did you did do to him?

you caught him being speechless so you worried, forming a form. “i-is it not good?” you turned around to face the mirror in worry. 

but before you do it you heard him yell. “wait!” you paused. “it’s good. you look great.” your muscles relaxed after hearing sunghoon’s reassurance. you smiled, turning back around to face sunghoon. sunghoon was too shy to face you, looking away as he was gulping. 

“really great..” he coughed into his fist, clearing his throat. 

well that was good enough for you. 

“great!” you closed back the curtain to change back into your normal clothes. 

sunghoon cursed at himself mentally, hand coming to his head to massage his temples as he closed his eyes to gather his thoughts. he felt like this was torture.

as you’ve already bought the dress, both of you were hungry so you guys went to the food court.

“go find a table, i’ll get us something.” you frown at sunghoon’s suggestion. “no don’t pay for me. you’ve already gone through so much, it’s right if i pay for your meal.” you find your wallet through your bag that sunghoon is still holding for you. sunghoon shook his head, shutting down the zipper making you speechless. “no need it’s fine for me.” you insisted. “sunghoon-“ you whined.

sunghoon gave you a look that made you instantly sit down. “fine.” you rolled your eyes. sunghoon smiled as you followed his words, dropping the bags on the chair next to you. what a switch up.

you eyed sunghoon’s back disappearing slowly from your vision. you smiled when he headed to your favorite fast food place.

you were on your phone while waiting for sunghoon to come back. 

“y/n?” you looked up after hearing your name being called. both of you smiled — it was your classmate, taesan. you got out from your seat to hug him as taesan hugged you back tightly. “what are you doing here?” you asked him, going back to your seat.

“i went to the park with the guys.” indicating the basketball on the chair across from you and he turned his back, which made you see the bunch of his friends ordering from a different store. “i saw you sitting by yourself, are you also with your friends?” taesan smiled at you, also wondering why you’re here. 

“mhmm,” you nodded. “prom shopping.” taesan cursed. “shit i realized i have to do the same..” you giggled at his comment as taesan panicked a bit since it’s in a week. “good luck with that.” you saluted to him. “mhm thanks.” taesan smiled at your gesture.

“okay i gotta go and find a table for these hungry monsters. i’ll see you again.” taesan ruffled your hair, before leaving your table. “hey you’re gonna mess up my hair!” you playfully said, fixing your strands. “ugh my hair..” you commented to yourself.

a few seconds later, you’re startled when a plastic bag of food was placed in front of, rather harshly. 

you turned your head towards sunghoon when he pulled a chair next you and sat next to you with a serious expression. “who was that guy?” you’re confused at sunghoon’s question. 

“what guy?” your nervousness made you forget your memory. “why are you smiling to him like that?” 

did he watch the whole scene?

sunghoon kept staring at you, still maintaining a cold look that made you shiver. yeah, that’s the look that he is pissed at you.

you realized something. “park, are you jealous?” you eyed him which made sunghoon realize what he was doing and broke eye contact, letting out a puff of air.

but you are not letting it go until you got your answer. you leaned closer to him, tilting your head so he can look at you again but he’s resisting because he didn’t want to show that side to you. “mhmm are you jealous?” you asked annoingly, making sunghoon blush. you kept teasing him. he was covering his face with his hands but you wanted to see this scene unfold on you. “am not.” he muttered, making you laugh at how grumpy his voice was. “cmon, why are you jealous? hm?” you’re entertained.

he is envious that there are other guys who can make you smile and laugh.

you smiled as your hands were touching each of his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face. sunghoon was pretty strong which made you struggle. 

“don’t test me.” sunghoon shot a glare after you removed his hands from his face. you gulped at the sight in front of you. “okay i won’t, i’m sorry.”you’re still smiling.

he crossed his arms, pouting. this wasn’t the sunghoon that you grew up with and you wondered how much he has grown up — and that you two aren’t kids anymore. 

“don’t worry about taesan, he has a girl.” you laid back to your seat, unpacking your chiptole bowl that sunghoon bought. sunghoon stayed silent, eyeing you unpacking the bowl with excitement that made sunghoon instantly forgive you but now he’s too embarrassed to speak to you. 

“uhm..” both of your heads turned to see a guy on your right side. the guy saw sunghoon’s grumpy face which made him gulp and nervous on what he was gonna say as you looked at him with a smile as an act of kindness. “i-i thought you’re pretty and i would like to ask if i can have your number?” the guy looked at you with sweaty glands all over his forehead, not daring to look at sunghoon or he will run away. you widened your eyes at the sudden confession.

“oh uhm-“

your bones became frozen when you felt one of sunghoon’s arms sneak around your neck, his fingers lightly touching your waist while his other arm was leaning on the table, eyeing the guy with apissed expression. he became close, too close when you felt his cheek be pressed onto yours.

he eyed the guy annoyingly, jaw clenched and eyes piercing through his body as you were a blushing mess and your heart fluttering too much. “she has a boyfriend.” sunghoon muttered, causing you to gasp lightly at his words. the way he said, felt like he really meant it.

you saw the guy panicked and apologized, running away from both of your visions. 

“cmon park, you scared the dude.” you turned to him as he removed his arm from your shoulder, leaning back to his seat. you were feeling bad for the guy but sunghoon didn’t feel bad.

“you didn’t decline.” sunghoon shrugged, making you wanna slap his shoulder at his egotistical self.

now that you’ve realized, you didn’t. 

“i-i..” you’re at a loss of words. you swear you’re gonna die in front of sunghoon if you get a heart attack. “right..” you muttered something that was not supposed to be aloud. but you didn’t notice, trying to calm yourself down.

sunghoon leaned closer to you, eyes staring at you as you saw him smiling, causing his fangs to be present. “i wouldn’t mind.”  

you realized where this was going and he indirectly confessed to you. sunghoon tilted his head to the side, entertained to see your blushing state. “i wouldn’t mind either.” his face dropped when you repeated the same thing to him without looking at him, coughing your nervousness out. 

both of your faces relaxed, smiling at each other, relieved that the both of you felt the same way towards each other. 

“so we’re gonna marry each other now?” sunghoon spoke, maintaining a slight smirk. he loves seeing you flustered like crazy. 

you’re surprised. “you’ve remembered?” sunghoon nodded proudly, playing the ends of your hair which made your heart beat even more crazy as if it’s not at its limit right now. 

“of course i remember, it’s you.” 

[buckymorelikefuckme]

fri(end)s

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 3.8k

warnings & tags: **18+ ONLY** friends/roommates to lovers oh my god they were roommates, smoking weed, brief mutual masturbation, frottage (i think that's the right word idfk i'm all out of practice), p in v sex, unprotected sex (don’t do that), reader has nipple piercings bc i said so, slight pain kink? mayhaps? ok pls let me know if i’ve missed anything!

a/n: i made this fic my bitch tonight. this is absolutely not proofread or beta'd, you're just gonna have to take it for what it is, sorry not sorry. anyway, it’s been too long since i wrote for this beefy man :’) i really hope you like it. this was originally very loosely inspired by a scene in what’s your number? but it quickly gained a mind of its own to become what it is now, so. there ya go. title is from the song of the same name by V of bts thank you very much. any and all mistakes are my own. feedback is greatly appreciated and heavily encouraged!!! xoxo

bucky barnes masterlist || main masterlist

Bucky’s introduction to weed was something you’d been supremely proud of.

When the two of you became roommates, you both had been kind of quiet and kept to yourselves at first, which isn’t too unusual, but you noticed that Bucky almost always had a frown etched into his handsome face. A frown that only ever softened after a night out with his friends and, you assumed, a decent hook-up. It never took long for that frown to reappear, though.

You didn’t know what could have been so stressful for him, but you knew he needed a way to relax, and not just for himself, either. The sight of him glumly moving around the apartment—honestly, you’ve never seen someone make fixing a bowl of cereal look so fucking sad—was beginning to weigh on your own nerves.

So, naturally, you thought of asking him if he’s ever tried weed. Somehow, his frown had deepened at that question. He said no, shocking absolutely no one, and then you asked if he wanted to try it. Admittedly, he was a little hesitant at first, but he eventually agreed.

The way his body, all two hundred and whatever pounds of muscle and angst, sank into the recliner like a ragdoll when the high really hit him made you grin. Though, to be fair, you were already smiling, what with you also being high. It was the first time you saw a real, genuine smile from Bucky, and you were immensely pleased to have given him a way to decompress from whatever kept him so tense all the time.

It became a sort of thing for you two. Saturday nights were for getting high, binge-watching Love Island (UK, because you both have class, thank you very much) and raiding the pantry for all the good snacks when the munchies hit. You’d never tell anyone, but those nights quickly became something you looked forward to every week, something you could cling to when your own life got a little difficult. Who knew smoking weed—and on a few special occasions, doing edibles—with your roommate would make a friendship blossom so prettily?

***

After how late Bucky got in last night, you knew he’d be sleeping in and would more than likely have a hangover. So, for this particular Saturday morning, you get up and quietly start gathering your laundry while Bucky snores loudly into his pillow from his bedroom. You were getting behind on it anyway, down to your last pair of clean shorts.

Before you put them on, though, you purse your lips in thought, staring at your pile of dirty clothes. You didn’t want to put on clean shorts with the panties and shirt you slept in last night. It would be smarter to wash them with the rest of your clothes, right? But that would leave you topless, which, you wouldn’t exactly be opposed to it, but you’re not sure Bucky would appreciate waking up to you walking around with your tits out. Or maybe he would? Whatever, it doesn’t matter.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts and then remember that Bucky did his laundry yesterday, and knowing him, he probably left at least some of his clean clothes in the dryer. Surely he wouldn’t mind you borrowing a shirt.

With that plan in mind, you dump your clothes into your laundry basket and make your way down the hall to the doors where your washing and drying units are (a major selling point of the apartment, if you’re honest). Just like you thought, Bucky’s left a load in the dryer, and even some of his button-downs are hung up on the drying rack. You quickly pull your t-shirt off, shivering against the cool air, and reach for one of the hangers, slipping his shirt off of it and onto yourself. For a dress shirt, it’s actually quite comfortable, obviously one of the shirts he wears more often with how soft and a little worn the fabric is. You shimmy your panties down your legs and add them to your pile, grabbing your clean shorts and tugging them on, too.

You make quick work of starting your first load of clothes, closing the doors to muffle the sound of the washer, and head back to your room to do your morning routine. By the time you’re done and have also cooked yourself breakfast, Bucky is staggering down the hall and into the kitchen, hair a tangled nest atop his head and eyes bleary.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you greet with a teasing smile.

He flips you off and beelines for the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup and not speaking a word until he’s downed at least half of it. Part of you is concerned for his esophagus, but you’ve long since come to the conclusion that Bucky’s probably got a thing for pain—both physically and emotionally.

“Remind me to tell Sam he isn’t allowed to bring Natasha on our nights out anymore,” he grumbles, voice rough from both sleep and a long night of drinking. “I’ve never taken so many shots of vodka in my life.”

You hum. “Sounds like my kind of woman, actually.” He cuts his eyes at you, silently judging while taking another sip of his coffee. “Want me to fry up some bacon and eggs for you?” You almost laugh at the way his expression immediately switches to pleading.

The rest of the morning is spent finishing your laundry and putting it all away, even gathering up Bucky’s clothes that he’d left and dumping them on his bed. You’ll leave the folding to him, though; your generosity only extends so far, after all.

Lunch rolls around and you both decide to order takeout from the burger place down the street, Bucky shushing you when you keep insistently whispering for him to order extra truffle fries (which he does order, after you’ve sworn pain of death if he doesn’t) and once it arrives, the two of you settle around the coffee table in the living room, putting on a random movie to watch while you eat.

And of course, when the sun begins to lower on the horizon, you start pulling out your stash and getting everything ready. Bucky’s already got the windows open in the living room to let the smell air out as you smoke, and he also has Love Island queued up and ready to go.

While you smoke the first joint, you make the conscious decision to bake a small batch of brownies for later. Bucky sits on the counter beside you, passing the joint back and forth as he quietly watches you work. Wordlessly, you hand over the bowl and spoon to him after you’ve poured the batter into the awaiting pan. No matter how many times you’ve tried to warn him about salmonella he always insists on licking them clean.

Sometimes, in these moments, you forget how surly he used to be with you. Not that he was ever rude or anything, but he never would have pouted about not being able to eat raw brownie batter before you helped him break down some of those walls of his.

***

“He’s such a dick,” Bucky mumbles a while later, face impassive and tone bland as he refers to one of the islanders of the show, slouching so deeply into the couch he’s practically become one with it.

The high from the first joint is finally kicking in fully, doing its job of releasing every ounce of tension from your bodies. It’s also making your mouth dry and tummy rumble for snacks. Thank god you made those brownies and Bucky unearthed some candy from past movie nights and lots of chips out of the pantry cabinets.

You hum at his comment. “Most men are.”

Bucky turns his head in your direction with an affronted expression that has you snickering. He goes to reply, giving you the sassiest once-over you’ve ever seen, but his eyes doubletake on your torso and he pauses. He stares for a moment.

“That’s my shirt,” he states.

You look down at the shirt in question, of which you’ve worn all day long and somehow he’s only just now noticing.

“Wow, you’re like Sherlock Holmes or something,” you drawl.

Bucky stares some more, and then, “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

“Because I had laundry to do and I needed something to wear while all my stuff was washing,” you say in a “duh” tone.

“But…” He frowns. “It’s my favorite.”

You snort inelegantly. “Bucky, you literally have, like, at least four other white dress shirts.”

“So? What, I can’t have a favorite one just because I have more of the same color?”

“Christ,” you say on an exasperated exhale. “I’ll give it back before bed, okay? I don’t wanna move right now. I’m scared I’ll bump into stuff again.”

Bucky huffs a laugh at that, which turns into a full-blown giggle fit that is contagious. Soon after your shared laughter dies down, the conversation moves back to the illicit love triangles among the islanders. You trash talk the couple that Bucky likes, just to see him get riled up and rant about how they’re the most real couple of the season and everyone else is just jealous. He gets red in the face and pouty when you remind him that this is a heavily produced show about pretty people getting a chance to get famous for being pretty people by hooking up with each other and playing stupid games that mean nothing in the grand scheme of it all. Really, it’s quite cute.

To placate him, though, you get a second joint rolled and let him take the first hit.

***

Turns out this second one hits you rather harder than normal. It feels like your head is a balloon and your neck is the string tethering it to the rest of your body. Everything feels much more sluggish compared to all the other times you’ve gotten high with Bucky. Somewhere in the depths of your hazy brain you remember that you’d gotten a different brand this time around; perhaps that’s why.

On the tv, the islanders are getting ready for bed, and once the lights go out in their room, some of the couples engage in some serious heavy petting, lifting their comforters for a semblance of privacy. The sounds start next, sighs and low moans, and it all begins to settle into your subconscious. Between one lazy blink and the next, you realize you’re… actually kind of horny. It’s not enough for you to really pay attention to it, not at first, just a little sprinkle of it, a tiny twist in your core that briefly has you pressing your thighs together then relaxing again.

But then the arousal builds up inside you so slowly and easily that you don’t even realize your hand has apparently grown a mind of its own and found its way down your shorts. You inhale sharply at the touch of your fingers against your clit, lashes fluttering as the sensation registers. The sound gains Bucky’s attention from where he's been lounging on the opposite end of the couch with his head tipped back and eyes closed.

They’re not closed anymore. Out of your peripheral, you see his head shift in your direction, feeling the weight of his stare like a physical thing. Your mind is both connected and disconnected from your actions, half-aware that this is probably not the smartest thing to be doing, that you’re absolutely crossing a major boundary. Touching yourself in this way in front of your roommate, your friend, is so not normal.

Yet, for some idiotic reason, you leave your hand down your shorts, continuing to lightly pet at your clit, neediness rising steadily. Even though you know he’s watching—and suspiciously quiet—you can’t help but let your fingers slither down to where you’re beginning to drip to gather some of your slick and bring it back to your clit and swirling your fingers at a sedate pace, sighing as your nipples tighten underneath your shirt.

Bucky is as still as a statue, gaze honed in on the movement of your hand, on how your thighs ease open more and more the longer you play with your pussy.

It takes very little time for your eyes to wander over to the man just a couple feet away, and to then notice and fixate on the growing bulge in Bucky’s sweatpants. The weight of his stare is almost a physical thing and you swallow roughly as you think about what he might look like, if he’s at all how you’ve secretly imagined when you’re alone in your bedroom, in much the same position as you are in now.

His hands creep towards his thighs and smooth down the expanse of them and back up, slowly, over and over, like he’s teasing himself. Like he’s teasing you. Your fingers don’t stop as you lift your other hand to tweak and pinch at your nipples through well-worn cotton, a tiny noise slipping past your dry lips.

Bucky pulls the hem of his shirt up, exposing part of his toned stomach and only hesitates for a split second before he lowers the waistband of his pants, pulling his cock out and matching the pace of his strokes with the pace of your fingers. The head of his cock is pink and precum makes it shine under the low light of the lamps in the living room.

You bite your lip as your arousal increases from the sight alone, and you decide to follow his lead, just a bit. You whine from the loss of stimulation when you remove your hand to shimmy your shorts down and off your legs, letting them fall to the floor carelessly. And now, Bucky has an unrestrained view of your glistening cunt as you sink two of your fingers inside yourself and use your other fingers to rub all around your clit. It has you gasping, eyelids threatening to close through the pleasure that sparkles throughout every vein in your body.

It’s good. Amazing, even. And it’s only making you want more. Bucky, it seems, feels much the same.

“C’mere,” he rasps, tone leaving no room for arguing, never mind that you wouldn’t have argued anyway.

You sit up on the couch, knee-walking over to where he’s still in his slumped position, never pulling your hand away from your clit because it feels like you’d cry if you did. Bucky curses under his breath and lets go of his cock to firmly grab you by the hips and tug you onto his lap. Your pussy ends up aligned perfectly with his cock, and you both shudder as you begin gliding back and forth across it, small movements that only increase the suspense of what likely comes next. He meets your eyes, red and glazed over from both the high and the toe-curling feeling of his cock along your wet center.

The kiss, when it happens, tastes like weed and the peanut M&M’s you both were snacking on just a little while ago. Bucky's tongue licks into your mouth like he can’t get enough, nips at your bottom lip to hear you whimper, gets a fistful of your hair and pulls and guides you until you’re pliant for him.

He knocks your hand away from your clit, but before you can complain about it he’s nudging the head of his cock against your entrance and you’re gasping all over again, grinding sloppily as you try to get him inside you. He finally sinks the head in and you allow gravity to aid you in taking the rest of him, moaning brokenly and high pitched at the stretch of him inside you. Bucky groans deep in his chest, hands clutching your waist like a lifeline as you slowly circle your hips, getting used to the feeling.

You stay like that for a few minutes, your breath and Bucky’s mixing hotly between you, and then you finally start fucking yourself on his cock. He grunts when you clench around him on the downstroke. You decide you like the sound, and you really wanna hear it again, so you repeat the action, moaning when the grunt is accompanied by a curse and his fingernails biting into your skin.

It takes what feels like ages for you to realize your thighs and knees ache from riding him, the weed making everything feel like it’s floating, including yourself, but Bucky sees the furrow in your brows and the shaking strain of your legs, and in the next second, he’s got you both moved from the couch to the floor. Time ticks on glacially slow like molasses as you stare up at him whipping his shirt off from where you’re sprawled on the carpet, your limbs shifting lethargically when he spreads your legs to better fit himself between them.

He fucks you hard, but not fast. you’re both much too high for anything fast, yet it still feels like your heart is going to pulse out of your chest, rabbiting away like you’ve run a marathon. Bucky buries his face in your neck, mouthing at your skin while he thrusts almost lazily.

Suddenly, his large hands encapsulate your hips, fingers pressing into the fleshiest parts of them as he sits up, getting his knees under him so he can rest on his haunches. He keeps your ass in his lap and your legs spread on either side of his waist. It makes your back arch and hips tilt up into a position that has you shuddering and sobbing when he begins to grind his thick cock deeper into you.

“I could stay buried in you for hours,” he mutters.

He reaches for the throw pillows on the couch and puts them under your hips, and then he fucks into you so hard it steals the breath right from your lungs, your mouth hanging open on a silent cry. His thrusts are sharper now, angled to perfection and making your toes curl so hard you fear them cramping and body jolt when he glides all the way back in. You gasp when Bucky rips open your shirt (his shirt, your mind helpfully supplies) and sends the buttons scattering across the floor. Those will be a bitch to find and clean up, but that’s a problem for much later.

“Fuck,” he grunts when he sees the piercings glinting in your nipples. “I fucking knew it,” he continues, squeezing each of your breasts in his hands and pinching your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, making you gasp again, pushing up into the sensation.

“Knew—“ You cut off with a whine when he pinches harder. “Knew what?”

“You walk around here wearing those goddamn cropped tank tops as tight as possible with no bra. Thought I was going crazy when I saw what looked like piercings underneath them,” he confesses as his hands travel back down to grip your waist, never losing his rhythm while he pulls you down to meet his thrusts.

At the sight of your tits bouncing with the movement of his hips, he groans, gravelly, his top lip curling as he grits his teeth and squeezes your hips so hard it hurts, and it only adds to your pleasure. With the way your skin is tingling, your pussy fluttering around him nonstop, you’re not sure if it’s because Bucky is fucking you that well or if it’s the weed. It’s probably both, and you have a split second thought that you’ll just have to test that theory once the high wears off.

It’s almost ironic, you think, how wet and messy your cunt is compared to how dry your mouth feels. It probably doesn’t help that your jaw seems to be permanently slack as you’re unable to stop your gasping inhales, only to exhale sounds you might be embarrassed about if you were clear-headed. Alas, your mind is a lot more focused on the way Bucky is splitting you open and carving a space inside you all for himself.

“So much better,” you whisper absently, fingers clawing at the carpet beneath you.

“Better than what?” he wonders, shifting to grip under your knees and push them up, changing the angle.

You cry out sharply, writhing uselessly in his hold. “My imagination,” you whimper.

Through bleary, tear filled eyes, you glance up at him just in time to see his lips pull into a boyish smirk.

“Mine too,” he confesses and sends you reeling.

You whine and reach down quickly to rub your throbbing clit, your whole body jerking as your pleasure mounts higher and higher. Bucky moans as he watches, stare trained on where you’re joined. His speed does pick up then, the slightest bit, a shudder wracking his frame as you clench down on him, head tipping back and exposing the long expanse of his throat for a brief moment before he suddenly leans over you, letting your legs fall into the cradle of his elbows.

“Won’t you be good for me and cum?” he asks, breathless, hips never letting up.

You open your mouth to reply but all that comes out is a strangled cry of his name, your fingers keeping their pace as your climax swells until it overflows, bursting like a firework and pleasure like you’ve never felt before sparks through every vein, muscle, and bone within you. Bucky curses in such a way it would make a sailor blush as you pulse around him. The sounds of your orgasm and his thrusts meeting your hips are the filthiest things you’ve ever heard, and it doesn’t stop for several moments, dragging on and on. It leaves you trembling and shaking and trying futilely to gather air in your lungs as he refuses to let up.

With great resolve, you bring your wet fingers away from your sensitive clit and up to his panting mouth. He groans at your taste, licking and sucking on your fingers as he chases his own release.

“Please,” you whisper, tears finally escaping your lashes and trailing down the sides of your face, and that seems to be his undoing.

Bucky moans, something high and broken, fucking into you rough enough that you’re worried about carpet burn. But then he pauses, gasping as he finally lets go and rides out his high.

Your hand slips from his mouth and falls to the floor like a deadweight. The only noise in the room now is the both your and Bucky’s harsh breathing and the television still playing that stupid fucking show. Bucky doesn’t move right away, of which you’re very thankful, because you’re not ready to feel the emptiness you know is coming, and it feels nice in a weird way to have him buried in you.

“Fuck,” he exhales, breaking the relative silence.

It makes you giggle, a small thing that turns into something uncontrollable, and when you manage to look at Bucky, he’s grinning in a dopey way that sets you off even more.

This is definitely something the two of you will have to talk about when you’re both sober, but like the buttons, that can be handled later. Although, something tells you it’ll all turn out just fine.

[prozacwhorehouse]

instagram feeds - mgg x snl cast member gf ⭐️

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hey guyss so this is not the promised piece because im still working hard and hardly working BUT i am happy with this sort of trailer for concept 😌

all pictures are taken from Pinterest but collages made by me !

instagram feed concept entirely inspired by @gibson-g1rl i love your insta aus 💗💗

hope you enjoy and i cannottt wait to get the full works out xx

y/ny/l/nforreal

❤️112k 💬 9k | liked by gublergram, marcellohdz and others

y/ny/l/nforreal not a moment of peace in this office @snl

marcellohdz: who is that dashing gentleman in the first pic

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @marcellohdz idk I think it’s Colin Jost?

longfellow_michael: YOU are the reason there’s no peace.

❤️ by author

—> egonwodim: longfellow_michael disrespect my baby one more time. 😡

martinherlihy: Hey so I think you put the wrong selfie because I’m not in that one lol 😂😂

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: Noo i dont fink so

criminalmindsfanatic: MATTHEW LIKED???

—> hotchqueen4: HELLO??

—>mggrumple: THR FRIENDSHIP WE NEVER KNEW WE NEEDED

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mggupdates

❤️8k 💬358

mggupdates: Matthew with mystery girl in New York City, rumored to be comedian and SNL cast member y/n y/l/n

y/nfan: YUPPP THOSE ARE HER NAILS AND SHE HAS THAT RING!!!

—> unknown9495: @y/nfan I noticed that too!!

mggy/nfanclub: someone posted that they saw them it’s def her!!!

—>user63: @mggy/nfanclub pls tag me omg

movieluvr: livinggg for this friendship/relationship 😫

—> girlpwr88: @movieluvr46 i want him so bad

—> prncsspch: @girlpwr88 him?? I want HER

spencerreidswife: we lost him guys 💔

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y/ny/l/nforreal

❤️ 116k 💬 13k | liked by gublergram, marcellohdz and others

y/ny/l/nforreal recently in nyc

marcellohdz: sonny ANGEL 💜

—>y/ny/l/nforreal: @marcellohdz you need to be stopped

gublergram: rubber duck

❤️ liked by author

—> randomuser281: @gublergram MGG WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE??

—> whore4spencerreid: @gublergram HUH??

—> mggstan: @gublergram oh they for suree dating

—> spencerreid2005: @mggstan they could also just be good friends??

—> emilyprentissfan0: @randomuser281 someone PLEASE tell me if they’re dating

janewickline: coffee dates with my wife >>>

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @janewickline marry me.

—> janewickline: @y/ny/l/nforreal I do. 💍

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y/ny/l/nforreal

❤️106k 💬18k | liked by y/ny/l/nforreal, yourbsfuser and others

y/ny/l/nforreal my friend wrote a book and it is quite nice. now he’s giving free copies out on his book tour which is why he’s broke anyways go read 💚

gublergram: thank you y/n this is the best publicity I’ve ever recieved!

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @gublergram sure thing do you need a money loan too

—>yourbsfuser: @y/ny/l/nforreal Y/N 😭😭😭

—>spencerreidwhore: she ends him every day and I love to see it

y/nfancentral23: BROKE SHE CAME FOR HIM BYEEE

user18834: FRIEND?? we were all ROOTING for you 💔💔

randomuser: can we talk about how cute it is that she’s promoting his book 🥹🥹

—>matthewy/nshipper: @randomuser890 IK I love them so bad 😭

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gublergram

❤️382k 💬30k | liked by y/ny/l/nforreal, kirstenvangsness and others

gublergram you make me laugh every day. maybe it’s because you’re a comedian im not sure happy birthday 😊

y/ny/l/nforreal: wow thanks get rid of these pictures

—>gublergram: @y/ny/l/nforreal no

cmaddict: he’s def so in love with her omg

—> snlbiggestfan: @cmaddict1 I meannn who wouldn’t be

—>randomuser: THE it couple I love them so bad

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gublergram

❤️300k 💬27k | liked by y/ny/l/nforreal, aubreyplaza and others

gublergram bet you didn’t know y/n is also a professional makeup artist. i look spookier than ever @y/ny/l/nforreal

y/ny/l/nforreal: I just screamed

❤️ by author

cmfan3747: stoppp she’s doing his gublerween makeup now 🥹🥹

—> hater123 @cmfan3747 she’s almost 20 years younger than him. mad weird

—>yourshipnamestan @hater123 so they’re both adults hope this helps! ❤️

y/nfandom45: when is it my turn for a relationship like theirs 💔💔

—>user284: real asf 😖

—>troller293: so you want an inappropriate relationship with an inappropriate age gap?

—>user48: bro shut up

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y/ny/l/nforreal

❤️130k 💬 22k | liked by gublergram, marcellohdz and others

y/ny/l/nforreal it appears your smile has always been contagious. happy birthday old man

gublergram ❤️

gublergram: old man? i retract my previous comment.

❤️ by author

bsfsusername: THE LAST PIC HELLO

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @yourbestfriendsuser the og hitch hiking ant

marcellohdz: gross ushy gushy caption delete this

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @marcellohdz I still love you!

—> marcellohdz: @y/ny/l/nforreal better. 😊

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mgg x SNL cast member tag list <3

@sarcasm-and-stiles @mystargirl-interlude @rubyirene @ashrrams @ghostatrixx @forevermorepassionate @saint-boudica @reidmarieprentiss @awakeforu @spencerlicious @kittycat-april @baudarling @delusional-4-fake-people @avenlymars @angelinajolie0213 @arusio @littleslayofhorrors @jezabelle9299 @jaemnationnn

[awesumsaus]

pretty when I cry

wc: 6k

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: what was meant to be a slow relaxing morning after a night out with joel turns into something much more.

a/n: so I’ve been trying to work out the rest of my tlou series but couldn’t get this idea out of my head. it’s entirely self-indulgent, absolute filth, literally inspired by porn (but with feelings). pls skip if you’re not comfortable with anything outlined in the warnings/tags, otherwise hope y’all enjoy :] (and if anyone has any interest in a part two lmk bc I may or may not have some ideas lolol)

warnings/tags: explicit 18+ (minors dni), no outbreak au, softdom!joel, smut with a hint of plot, established relationship, age gap, reader is described as small/little but also curvy, hints of possessive!joel, daddy kink, almost dd/lg dynamics, subspace, oral (f receiving), slight somnophilia (very consensual), size kink, dirty talk, so many petnames (baby, honey, pretty girl, little girl), painful sex but Joel is a consent king, aftercare, fingering, *cough* butt stuff *cough*, unprotected pinv, squirting, barely proofread sorry

It wasn’t uncommon, for you to wake up like this, Joel’s head of salt and pepper curls dipped below the covers, his mouth eagerly pulling an orgasm from your pliant body. So it comes as no surprise when you’re roused awake by the sound of your own whines and whimpers, slipping through your lips like soft little pleas. Your tired eyes shift to the top of his head, the sheets bunched at his wide shoulders, leaving you bare and exposed to the cool morning breeze blowing through the open bedroom window. 

He works in slow languid movements, yet he has you gushing around his tongue nonetheless, his mouth warm and wet against your dripping sex, still soft and swollen from the previous night’s activities. You’d fallen asleep, damp and sticky, only after he’d pounded you into his mattress until the early hours of the morning. 

Upon waking, the feeling of his cum still dripping out of you, legs wrapped around one of his dense thighs, it drove him positively insane. It didn’t matter how peacefully asleep you were, how steadily you drew breaths between your plush lips, he had to have you the moment his eyes set on you.  

He senses you’re awake when your fingers delicately twist through the curls at the crown of his head. He hums contentedly against you, the vibrations making your eyes fall closed once more as wanting sounds slip past your lips. You’d never been one for religion, but seeing Joel for the past several months has you questioning everything. The way his mouth moves against your pulsing core leaves you with no choice but to believe in some higher power, some celestial being that deemed you lucky enough to allow a man like Joel into your life.

He pulls away from your messy cunt and you whine at the loss. Your glossed over eyes meeting his with pupils blown wide. “Mornin’ pretty girl,” he says, his voice gruff and his lips shining with your slick. The sight sends another wave of warmth straight to your core. 

“Hi,” you say, tone gentle and weary with sleep. A timid smile spreads across your lips as you run a hand through his scruff. No matter how many times you wake up next to him, how many times he fucks you senseless, you always manage to grow shy under his salacious stare. 

He plants a fleeting kiss to your clit and you shudder, you can feel him smirk even as your gaze shifts to the ceiling above you. Your hand unknowingly grips his hair tighter and urges him towards where you need him most, not even noticing your own action until you hear Joel let out an amused chuckle. 

“So needy for me, huh baby?” He runs a hand from your thigh over the curve of your hip, his touch featherlight over the certain spot by your hipbone that he knows drives you wild. His fingers end splayed across your lower belly, his thumb rubbing small circles into your skin. 

“Always need you, daddy,” you say, only slightly above a whisper, a small buck of your hips to get your point across. The petname has his already half hard cock twitching against the sheets, his other hand instinctively squeezes the flesh of your hip. 

With no warning, his lips are on you again, his pace now fast and increasingly sloppy. He eats at you like a man starved, his curved nose rubbing against your clit with each of his movements. The intensity of it all makes your head spin and your cunt clench around nothing. A ghosting pain lingers in your lower half, another reminder of the evening prior. 

The two of you had gone out, like you often did on Friday nights, deciding on a new spot downtown. Joel was hesitant at first, having heard it was more popular with the younger crowd, more catered to people your age. But he’d learned early in your relationship that saying no to you was nearly impossible, with your big doe eyes and sweet pleading smiles, he rarely had it in him to deny anything your little heart desired. 

But God, the little black dress you wore nearly had him throwing you over his shoulder and locking you away in his bedroom for only his eyes to ever behold. Joel would never admit to being the possessive type. He knew what other men saw in you, wide eyed and sweet, kind beyond reason, with a gorgeous smile and beautiful curves. He saw the way they’d look at you, saw the way their eyes followed your perfect form, like predators stalking their prey.

He would never admit to being the possessive type, but his incessant grip around your waist in every public space and the death glares he’d send any man that looked your way proved otherwise. And despite your attempts to dissuade his arrogance, there was a part of you that craved to be claimed, to be marked as his. 

The week had been long and draining. Your overbearing boss forced you to work overtime into the late hours of the evening nearly every night, and with Joel’s days often starting as early as 5am, he was usually sound asleep by the time you’d managed to feed yourself and drag your exhausted corpse to bed. 

To no fault of his own, Joel hadn’t paid much attention to you this week, leaving you feeling neglected and irritated despite his generally relentless attentiveness towards you. And so you decided to toy with him, always testing his limits and seeing how far you can go before he snaps. You wouldn’t admit it, but you kinda liked him a little angry. 

And boy was it easy to get a rise out of him, especially dressed the way you were, your ass only just covered and your tits spilling over the tight corset-like top of your dress. You had his blood boiling before the two of you even left his house. When you finally walked through the bar entrance, Joel was like a guard dog, his arm wrapped tightly around your lower waist, a permanent scowl imprinted on his face towards the many male bar goers that ogled you. He had you tucked so close to his body you were nearly tripping over his feet with each of your steps. 

After your first drink you were feeling antsy, and a bit too bold for you own good, and so you flirted with them, boys you had not a single shred of interest in, laughed at their jokes and accepted their offers to buy you drinks, all the while glancing back at Joel, biting your lip, trying not to giggle at his grimace and the way redness began spreading up his neck. You’d retreat back to your table, to Joel, prizes in hand, and feign innocence when he’d question what you were up to. 

“What do y’ think you’re doin’,” he questioned after you had slipped away to the bar a second time under the guise of needing to use the restroom. You padded up to him, slotting yourself between his thighs, twirling the straw in your drink between your fingers. Even sitting on the barstool he towered over you. 

“Nothin’, daddy.” You looked up at him through your lashes, knowing fully well what your words did to him. You brought the hand that wasn’t holding your drink to his upper thigh, you could feel the muscle tense as you slid your way up, up, up. 

“Watch it, little girl.“ He grabbed your wrist, hard. You instinctively tried to pull away, but his grip was firm. He jerked you towards him, your chests nearly touching before bringing your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly, a stark contrast to the death grip he still had on your wrist. 

His voice was low, a sign of warning. “F�� you want somethin’ from me, all you gotta do is ask, darlin’.” 

You huffed and pouted slightly when he released you, ignoring the fact that your actions resembled those of a petulant child. Despite knowing that he would give you anything you asked of him, having proved it to you countless times over the course of your relationship, the neglected feeling in your chest grew. You didn’t want to ask, sick of making decisions and telling others what to do after the week you’d had. You wanted him to take. 

It was after your third disappearance, this time to actually use the restroom, that Joel snapped. Passing by the bar, one of the young men that bought you a drink attempted to stop you in your tracks. You didn’t pay him much attention, just smiled and nodded at his words, quietly trying to slip by. But then his hands were on you, grabbing your waist in a way that made your stomach turn. You hadn’t even had time to register a response, to push him away and run back to Joel, before his hands were leaving your body and being replaced by much larger ones, rough and calloused. Joel’s hands. 

“We’re leaving, now,” he grunted, pulling you by the back of your arm towards the exit. It was only after he’d practically thrown you into the passenger’s seat of his truck that you knew you were in for it. 

You’d barely made it to the front door before he was ripping the fabric of your little black dress from your body, letting the torn pieces fall to the floor. Immediately you’d attempted to scold him, it was one of your favorites, but couldn’t get a word in before he was throwing your bare body over his shoulder and carrying you to his bedroom, promising he’d buy you as many dresses as you wanted if you’d shut up and let him have his way with you, let him fuck you stupid, until the only thoughts going through your head were Joel, Joel, Joel.

He spent the following hours relentlessly pulling orgasm after orgasm from your pliable body, impaling you on his thick cock until hot tears streamed down your cheeks. 

“I know, baby,” he said from his place behind you, your limp whimpering form draped across the edge of the bed. “Just needed to be reminded who you belong to, huh?” His voice was mocking, but with a certain sincerity that made your cunt clench even harder around him. 

“Yours, daddy,” was all you could manage before you came around his cock for what felt like the hundredth time that night. 

Needless to say you were feeling extra sensitive this morning, Joel was hyper aware of this fact, yet the feeling of his tongue repeatedly diving into your abused hole had you begging for more. “Need you inside,” you say despite the hurt. Joel holds back a groan at your pleas, needy little thing. He pulls away just slightly to meet your gaze, his breath still hot against your core. 

“Not gonna put my cock in you, honey.” The finality in his voice makes your heart drop and tears prick in the corners of your eyes. You were always like this in the mornings, he had come to notice, sensitive, soft, often emotionally even more so than physically. Joel had always been an assured man, never impulsive or reckless in his actions, always thoughtful and never selfish. But with you he’d learned patience. He’d learned to hold your emotions in the palm of his hand with a certain gentleness he never knew himself capable of. He’d learned you often needed more time than most to become placid, to settle, and so it became almost a sense of his, knowing when to take and when to give, even when you weren’t sure yourself.  

“Please-“ you whine, tears in your voice. His big brown eyes soften when they meet yours, his resolve slipping only momentarily while he moves to kiss the inside of each of your thighs. 

“Not gonna convince me, baby.” he tuts. “Can’t take me yet.” He moves higher, nuzzles into the soft skin above your clit. You let out a small gasp when he starts sucking harshly, surely leaving a bruise, a mark that only he will ever see. 

“I can. I promise.” You wriggle in his hold, feel your wetness drip onto the sheets. He nips the spot and pulls away. 

“Quit.” He pins your hips harder, his eyes meeting yours once more. “Maybe if you hadn’t been such a goddamn tease last night I wouldn’t’ve had to wreck this perfect little pussy.” He runs a finger through your folds as he says it and you tense slightly. He raises an eyebrow at you, an I told you so look, you huff in frustration, yet you relax in his hold. 

“You ready to be good f’ me, baby?” His voice seeps through your ears like honey, your mind beginning to wander to that all too familiar headspace you often turned to in these moments. You nod your head, eyes hooded. Joel senses the shift. “You’re gonna take whatever daddy gives you yeah?”

“Yes,” you gasp as you feel just the tip of his index finger probe your dripping hole, Joel gauging your response. 

“N’ then what d’ you say?” He twists his finger inside you and pushes in just to his first knuckle, the stretch already intense given your increased sensitivity. 

“Thank you, daddy,” you sigh, not a single shred of fight left in you. A devilish smirk spreads across his face. 

“Good girl.”

His hands are on the backs of both your thighs, hiking your legs up so that they’re pressed firmly against your chest, your glistening folds on full display. You shiver as the cool morning air hits where you’re most vulnerable. He then pushes your knees apart, situating himself so that his mouth is only inches from your core while still holding you in place, your legs spread obscenely wide to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders. 

He spits directly on your clit and watches as it drips down your cunt, combining with the mess of wet already there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but it’s how Joel likes you, filthy with his cum and spit and your own slick. You tremble as he smooths his hand over your mound, his undivided attention on the mess he’s creating. When he’s satisfied, the pad of his thumb finds your clit, rubbing small circles into the bundle of nerves, making your hips buck once more.

He pauses his movements, his eyes dark and entirely void of any sense of leniency. “Not gonna tell you again.” A tear pools in your lower lashes at the loss of his touch, your breathing goes shaky. 

“So pretty when you cry f’ me, honey,” his tone mocking. “Almost as pretty as when you come for me.”

His mouth is back on you, even more ravening and unrelenting than before. You have to bite down on your pillow to prevent yourself from screaming when his lips wrap around your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his warm mouth. Every cell in your body is screaming for his touch, needing more, more, more. You want to be enveloped by him by not just his mouth, but every part of him. You have the sudden desire to crawl under his skin, make a home for yourself there, where all you can ever feel is him, him, him. 

The peaceful sound of birds chirping outside the window is drowned out by your cries and the pornographic squelches of your wet sex. Your vision blurs as his tongue plunges in and out of you. 

“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he pulls away for only a second, his eyes not leaving your center as he anchors his thick arms under your ass and thighs, bringing your cunt impossibly closer to his eager mouth.  

Joel knows your body, knows what every twitch and minor shift means, how your breathing quickens when he’s brought you right to the edge, the sounds you make when you’ve completely given in, forfeited all control. And he senses it, when his thumb presses against the cleft of your ass, and a moan slips from deep within your throat, that he’s uncovered something, something that makes his cock twitch and drip onto the sheets below him. 

He pulls away quick, too quick, and your face burns, the fleeting sensation prompting a new surge of desire in the pit of your stomach. The feeling was foreign, a bit startling, but in a way that left you longing for more. If you were to trust anyone to delve into this part of yourself, this uncharted territory, it would be Joel. It would always be Joel. He knew how to take care of you better than any man you’d ever known. With him you were safe, you were heard, cherished and adored. With him there was no emotion too big or too small, no desire left unsated. 

“Joel-“ you breath. “Joel, baby. I want-“

He pulls away from you, a knowing look in his glassed over eyes. “What is it, honey? What d’ you want?”

He can’t help himself and licks a long strip from your asshole to your clit, moaning at the taste. “Fuck- Joel,” you cry out, a drop of sweat falling to your forehead. “Want- want your fingers.”

“Where d’ you want my fingers, baby.” He says it more like a command than a question, but you can’t respond, your head falling back as he starts lapping at your clit. “You want them in this sweet little cunt?” He prods one of his thick fingers at your opening, but quickly pulls away, leaving you clenching around nothing. 

You bite your lip, eyes hooded. “Mm,” you shake your head. His eyes are nearly black now, something unhinged, sinful behind his gaze. He knows what you want, the seed already planted in his insatiable brain, but he wasn’t going to give in to your pleads that easily. 

“Dirty girl.” His voice has dropped an octave. “Tell me what you want.”

“Please, daddy” you squirm, tears pooling at your waterline, threatening to fall at any second. His hardened grip on your hips softens for a moment before he’s turning his head and biting the inside of your thigh, hard. You gasp, a tear rolls down your cheek. “Use your words.”

“I wan- I-I don’t-,” you babble, the tears now flowing freely, leaving wet trails down your cheeks. He lets you choke on your words for a moment, not once tearing his eyes away from yours. 

“Oh honey, I know s’ hard,” he soothes, sliding his hand along the curve of your ass. Your tears slow. “S’okay. Daddy’s gonna give you what you need. No more cryin’.”

You sniffle, a small smile spreading across your face at his words. You always had a way of making him cave.

His expression goes serious for a moment. “What’s your safe word?” Red. “And you’ll use it if you want me to stop?” Mhm. “Repeat it.” His commanding tone sends a chill down your spine. “If I want you to stop, I’ll say red,” you say softly and run a hand through his curls, wet with a mixture of your sweat and his own. 

“Fuck, baby. Gonna make you feel so good,” he says more to himself than you. Your brain turns to absolute mush when his mouth meets your skin once again. 

Even with his head between your legs, even when he’s on his knees for you, he’s the one in charge, the one that dictates your every move. How your body twists and bends to his will. He decides when you get to cum, decides when you’ve earned it. And there’s a certain feeling that comes with it, this loss of autonomy, a sense of ease and security created by a total loss of control. No other man you’ve been with has understood, most of them only seeking to fulfill their own selfish wants. But Joel knows, having understood this unfamiliar part of you almost as soon as the two of you met, knowing exactly how to satiate that little corner of your brain that craves submission. 

You suck in a sharp breath when you feel his calloused thumb return to your tight hole, tensing a bit when he adds more pressure. 

“Relax, baby.” And you do, your muscles go lax almost immediately and the furrow in your brow softens. You exhale a moan as he begins kissing your cunt, avoiding your most sensitive areas so that he can keep you focused on the feeling of his thumb pushing into you. 

“Fu- fuck, Joel!” You basically shriek when the tip of his thumb breeches the ring of muscle, it’s already all consuming, already so full.

He retracts his thumb and you let out a choked sound before he brings his thick finger to your wetness, gathering slick on the pad of his thumb before resuming his unrushed stretching of your virgin hole. 

“More ngh- please.” He prods you painfully slow, assessing your every reaction as his knuckle plunges into you. 

“Uh-uh. Don’t care how nice n’ polite you ask, baby. Not gonna ruin this little hole.” He plants wet kisses along your seam. “Not yet,” he says almost inaudibly against your mound before devouring you once more. The promise of more makes something in your brain snap, all the shyness and trepidations from before gone in one fleeting moment. 

He stretches you slowly, the speed of his mouth quickening and his thumb beginning to slide more easily in and out of you. You’re entirely lost in the feeling, completely overwhelmed by the pressure and the speed of his tongue on your clit. You cry out when he removes his thumb, replacing it with his middle finger, and dipping his freed digit into your cunt, completely overcome, overstimulated in the best way. 

It’s too much, but not enough. But no, it’s too much. He’s everywhere, in your cunt, your ass, your head. All you can think is how anything in life could ever feel this good. How anyone can be this good, this knowing of your every want, every need. The thought makes tears pinch at the corner of your eyes. 

His gaze is fixed on you, every twitch, every shift. He nearly comes at the sight of you grinding down on his fingers. That’s it baby, fuck yourself on my fingers. His movements slow, your orgasm begins to fade and you whine. You’re not even thinking when you bring your delicate fingers to your clit and trace small circles against the bundle of nerves. Joel immediately grabs your hand and pins it to your lower stomach, nearly growling against your skin. Any other time he’d have you bent over his knee for not asking permission, but he’s so drunk on you, so dead-set on making you come apart, he lets this one slide. 

“Need t’ come so bad, huh baby?” You nod your head furiously, a few more tears slipping down your cheeks. “Go ‘head n’ ask for it then, baby. Nice n’ polite like I know you can.”

“Please daddy, please let me come.” You barely register the words falling from your mouth, but the proud look on Joel’s face tells you all you need to know.

It doesn’t take much to send you over the edge. He sucks harshly on your clit, pulling it into his mouth, while his thick fingers work each of your holes. His hand holding yours presses harder, harder, harder until the tension snaps and you’re screaming, sobbing out as you gush around him, soaking his scruff to the point that your slick drips from his chin and onto the already drenched sheets. He works you through it, curling his fingers into your cunt so that another warm stream of slick hits his tongue. And he takes, not letting a single drop go to waste as he laps at you. 

Your head is still buzzing when he finally ceases his movements, the shockwaves of your orgasm still flowing through you making your whole body shake. Your muscles convulse as he slowly pulls his fingers from your core. 

With blurred vision you watch him stand at the end of the bed, his cock painfully hard, red and leaking. You hadn’t even considered what all this was doing to him, so lost in your own pleasure from the moment your eyes opened. You have the sudden urge to fall to your knees and take him into your mouth until he comes deep down your throat, but your body is limp, sunk into the mattress below you. You merely watch with hooded eyes as he fists himself, his gaze fixed on your slicked core, the sight makes another pool of your arousal drip onto the sheets.

“Fuck-“ he sucks in a sharp breath, his hips stuttering against his own hold. “Need t’ be inside this tight cunt, baby.”

Your eyes go slightly wide at his confession, yet your lower half shakes with anticipation. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, this wrecked, desperate, this needy. He looks almost pained when your eyes meet his, and you feel as though you may just implode if he’s not inside you a moment longer. 

“Will you let me, pretty girl?”

You nod. 

“Yes or no, baby?” He squeezes the base of his shaft, staving off his impending release. You can’t help but smile a little, knowing he could come just like this, just from looking at you in your current state. But the need to feel him inside of you pulls you from the thought. 

Yes, please, yes.

He grabs your hips and swiftly flips you, shoving a pillow under your lower belly and pushing down on you until you’re laid almost flat on your stomach. He grabs roughly at your hips, pulling you up so that his cock brushes up against your slick folds. 

You bite down on your forearm when his wide tip notches at your entrance, basically drooling onto your own skin as you attempt to hold back your cries. He eases into you, still overly conscious of your sensitivity, ignoring the small part of his brain telling him to ram into you, make you feel every inch of him in one swift motion. He knows that you would take it, thank him for it, always such a good girl for him especially once he’s finally inside you, yet he knows the kind of control he has over you in these moments, knows it’s up to him to determine what you can and can’t take. 

When he bottoms out you feel as though you may just split in two, something animalistic sounds from deep within Joel’s throat. Tears fall to your arm when your head lolls to the side, your breathing ragged and your whole body on fire from both pain and pleasure.

“Fuck- not gonna last, baby.” He starts moving in and out of you slowly, and god, it hurts, yet your tight cunt sucks him back in with each of his thrusts, a delicious burning sensation spreading along your slick walls. You open your mouth to respond, to tell him not to worry himself, to beg him to come inside your aching cunt. But all that escapes your lips is a choked sob in the sound of Joel’s name. 

“Shh I know,” he coos. “You’re just so little, huh sweet thing? Little fucking cunt squeezing me so good honey.”

You keen at his praise, gushing around his massive girth. You’d never get used to it, the thickness of his cock, the weight of him deep inside your cunt. No matter how much he prepares you, it’s always a stretch, always just short of too much to bare. 

His thumb presses into the cleft of your ass as his pace increases. “Gonna let me fuck you here, baby?”

“Yes daddy,” you say and he freezes for a moment, your words nearly sending him over the edge. 

“Not today, little girl,” he growls and rocks back into you. A feeling of combined relief and disappointment washes over you. You’re not sure you could take it, not now, but part of you craves to be reduced to nothing but Joel’s fuck toy, fucked deep and full until you can’t even think, nothing but a few holes to be filled. 

“You’d let me though, wouldn’t ya?” He pulls you from your thought. “Dirty fuckin’ thing.”

“Mhm, yes daddy.” Your vision goes black at the feeling of his cock pulsing against your cervix. He was close, you could feel it in the way his thrusts went erratic, sloppy and slightly hurried. 

“Let me do whatever I want to ya, huh?”

“Yes daddy,” you say the only two words left in your brain. 

“Fuck, so fucking perfect, baby-“ The feeling of his warm release shooting inside of you makes you twitch around him and your brain go fuzzy. You can barely hear Joel’s grunts and moans nor his incessant praises over the ringing in your ears. This is what you craved, beyond the physical gratification brought on by these moments, but the way the world around you disappeared and you were filled with nothing but the content of being his, being Joel’s. The safety you felt beneath his large form, it leaves no room for worry, no thoughts of the stress of everyday life, no decisions to be made. Just him, just Joel. 

You’re not sure how long the two of you stay like this, long enough to feel your combined release dripping from Joel’s cock onto your trembling thighs, long enough that you feel yourself dipping in and out of sleep, in and out of consciousness. 

When he finally pulls out of you, he lets your hips softly fall onto the bed, your body sprawled across the damp sheets. You feel the mattress shift behind you as he stands, immediately heading for the en suite bathroom. At the loss of his presence, you’re reminded of the open window, the now midmorning breeze dancing across your damp skin. You can’t help but wonder if the echoes of your morning endeavors made their way to the street below, if a neighbor passing by could make out the sounds of your shrieks and screams, if perhaps it’d been a cause for concern until it became apparent that your cries were derived from a place of pleasure and not pain nor fear. 

Joel returns and takes quick notice of your shivering, immediately making his way to the window and shutting it. You smile to yourself at the sight of his bare backside, so strong and sturdy, the muscles in his shoulders sculpted from years of working on various job sites, tapering down to his waist, the dimples right above his ass. It’s truly a view you would never tire of. 

“‘S impolite to stare, y’ know?” He catches your eye, a playful smirk spread across his face. You giggle at him, still laying on your belly, your head tucked into the crook of your elbow. He chuckles when you make grabby hands at him with your free hand, to which he quickly concedes, bending over at your side and planting a kiss on your lips. You sigh against him, carding your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. 

“Hey baby.” He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your nose. He tucks fallen pieces of hair behind your ear. “You okay?” 

You nod your head tiredly, unable to muster any more of a response, and he doesn’t attempt to pull one out of you, kissing your nose and rising back to his feet. 

He disappears once again, this time returning dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a damp washcloth in hand. He sits next to you on the bed, moving to clean between your legs, but your thighs clamp shut. It’s a purely physical reaction, your body on high alert due to the sensitivity. 

“Hey hey-“ he runs a soothing hand up and down your spine then leans over to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Just want t’ clean you up sweet girl. I’ll be so gentle, promise.” His soothing makes your legs instinctively relax and he brings the washcloth to the apex of your thighs. He’s gentle just like he promised, yet you still hiss slightly when the warm material meets your sensitive skin. 

When he’s finished, he grabs one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts from the dresser, quickly returning to your side and urging you to turn onto your back. He dresses you, your body like putty in his hands, his touch gentle and warm. You can’t deny the aching feeling in your lower half when he slides your shorts on, but it’s a good kind of ache, an ache you’ll crave as soon as it dissipates. 

You grab at him again when he moves to pull away, but he makes it easy for you, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, careful not to bare any of his weight on you. The little whimpers that slip past your lips as your warm mouth moves across his make his spent cock twitch.

It scared him sometimes, the intensity with which he felt for you, the depth of his affections. It scared him, the thoughts he had, of what he would do to those who meant to hurt you, to those who have hurt you. It scared him, the thought of losing you, the lengths he would go to keep you safe, keep you here, here with him. But it was in these moments, when you’re laid beneath him, so soft and so lovely, that all those fears melted away. 

Before things move any further, he hooks his arms under you and lifts you from the bed with ease. You don’t protest, not sure you could even if you wanted to, instead you latch onto him, curl your face into his neck and wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you downstairs to the living room. 

He attempts to set you on the couch, but you cling to him like a koala, arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “Let go,” he says firmly, a smile behind his words. “Don’t wanna,” you mumble against his skin, whining as he unfurls you from his torso and plops you on the couch. He places the TV remote in your hand, telling you to put somethin’ on, whatever you want.

He disappears into the kitchen and you attempt to sit up on the couch, your body going slack against the cushions. Your brain is still buzzing, it’s almost like you’re floating, not yet fully aware of your surroundings, but you can slowly feel yourself coming back to reality. You turn the TV on and set it to your latest recording. 

Joel returns a few minutes later, your favorite water bottle and a plate of peanut butter toast in hand, a bottle of Advil in the other. He sits on the couch, immediately urging you onto his lap, and you don’t object. 

“The Bachelor?” He says, a hint of judgement in his voice as he unscrews the cap of the Advil. 

“You love it,” you respond, beginning to lose focus on the show as you squirm and slither against his body, making yourself comfortable as if he were part of the couch. Joel softly chuckles, wrapping an arm loosely around you.

He holds a few of the pills in front of you. “Joel I’m fine. I don’t-“

“Not asking, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes, but take the Advil from him nonetheless, swallowing them down when Joel holds the straw of your water bottle to your mouth, knowing your body would thank you for it later. 

“Good girl,” he plants a quick kiss to your temple, before grabbing the toast from the coffee table, heat rises to your cheeks at his words.

He feeds you the toast, taking bites for himself while you chew. You hadn’t realized how depleted your body was, now feeling the haze lift with some food and water in your system. Every time it’s like coming back to earth, but fortunately you know that Joel will always be there to catch you. 

y'all I’m not good at endings pls forgive me

but hope we enjoyed the rest :p

part two

[lewisvinga]

agora hills | charles leclerc x fem! reader

summary; with y/n’s newest ep release, everyone is going crazy trying to figure out who is making her feel this way. her fan base goes crazier once she finally reveals who it’s about.

fc; tyla

warnings; obvi suggestive lyrics/pictures obvi, cursing

notes; requested ! i’m abt to use tyla as a fc for singer reader bc she’s soooooooooooo fine

masterlist !

liked by username, username, and 1,034,093 others!

yourusername: agora hills. out now.

username: mother has done it againnn😩😩

username: omg i did not expect any of this

username: THE MVVVVV😩😩😩😩😩

username: how u shake ass like that🥴🥴🥴

username: y/n nation WE WON

username: ok but WHO is making her write and sing these songs😩

username: ‘i wanna show you off’ show WHO off, miss y/n🤨🤨🤨

username: love it when you hit and smack too, baby??????? EXCISDME?!/@;&; WHOO??

username: she outdid herself ONCE AGAIN

username: the fit of her in the black ferrari in the mv😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

username: i’m sooooo gay

username: i’m sooooooooo normal abt this like soooooo normal

username: i’m going crazy who is this about 😭😩

username: ‘fuck me ‘till daylight’ omg 😩😩

username: pls tell us who this is abouttt

username: going through her following to see what man is making her sing abt this😩🥴

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 1,789,572 others!

yourusername: my inspiration for agora hills.

tagged; charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: i can be your inspiration for your album?? 👀👀

yourusername: i think i’m going to need a lot of inspiration😼

charles_leclerc: omw.

charles_leclerc: my most gorgeous girl. i love you ❤️

yourusername: i love you, my pretty boy 💘

username: AGORA HILLS EP IS ABOUT CHARLES LECLERC??

username: oh wow….

username: i now get why she wrote what she wrote bc he’s 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

username: as an f1 fan and a y/n fan, this is INSANE

username: the third picture IM GOING CRAZY😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

maxverstappen1: well thanks a lot, now i can’t look at charles the same!

yourusername: you’re welcome 😁

username: so y/n can confirm that charles has that good d???

username: it was obvious w her ep

username: can’t believe the prince of monaco has you singing about how good the sex is 😭😭

username: now i understand why she kept using a black ferrari in her mv😩😩

[free-for-all-fics]

So… while working on IWTV prompts, the s3 teaser made me feral. So with the help of my bestie, @une-lueur-dans-la-nuit we wrote this prompt that ended up being so much fun for us that it became almost like a miniseries! There will be 2 parts after this! Special thanks to her for providing the French! Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of this and I’d love to read it! 🎸❤️🩸

“No, that's how billionaire vampires do it. How does your average Jo Mo vampire keep people like you in line? Unspoken threats?”

“The threat is always there. He could kill us both now. But he doesn't. They are peaceful beings.”

“They drain and disappear us.”

“They have a biological imperative that is in conflict with human morality. But what is that morality other than rules agreed upon?”

“Thank you, Rashid. A romantic answer to your question. The average vampire has minimal contact with humanity. When exposed, they feed or run or kill themselves. And I'd say we're multi-millionaires. Not quite a billion.”

“How do you hide from the Cloud?”

“Your cell phones make you slaves to your fetishes and data retrieval is primarily about profits, so I suspect no one at Amazon is trying to sell us blenders.”

“You kill, nightly.”

“And sometimes you've watched that kill on the local news. You've never been easier to distract. You're at the height of willful ignorance. We exploit it. This is, was… Lestat's prophetic vision.”

“Lestat de Lioncourt?”

“Yes.”

“I really gotta meet this guy […] To hear Louis tell it... Lestat becoming a vampire was a horror show.”

“That may be. But he made a remarkable recovery shortly thereafter. How else could you explain his hand feeding the audience? How words came out like canaries, summer fruit in the dead of winter. They were all in love with him. He had that effect on everyone. He...”

“Was a natural?”

“Entirely unnatural. Using the Dark Gift for what? His vanity? It was heresy.”

~

Part 1: Orientation

It’s modern day. Ever since you and your older brother, Lestat, became famous rockstars while performing as The Vampire Lestat, formerly Satan’s Night Out, you’ve both been very active on socials. You’ve been around since the 18th century and it’s amazing what modern technology is capable of! You used to have to wait weeks or months for a reply to a letter or telegram, or sit or stand still for hours to have your portraits painted, but now messaging is instant and you can share photos and thoughts with people all over the world. You and Lestat are almost internet addicts with how often you post and interact online. If you’re not performing, rehearsing, writing music, or doing interviews, press junkets, or promo shoots, you’re tapping away on your phones or laptops, always posting. You’ve quickly risen in the ranks of social media influencers and have been trending for months. Together you and Lestat maintain a popular vlog on both Instagram and YouTube where you frequently post all kinds of videos ranging from Get Ready With Me, Ask Me Anything, or just daily life vlogs.

You’re currently on tour, but are in need of some new hires since your and Lestat’s last personal assistants unexpectedly…quit…or were…terminated. They weren’t up to the bar of meeting your and Lestat’s expectations and standards. Since Lestat has far less patience than you and can’t be bothered, he’s left it up to you to interview and screen potential candidates for the Personal Assistant position. Usually he’d have a say and you’d have to come to a mutual agreement before hiring anyone new, but he’s sat through this process multiple times and trusts you to single-handedly make this decision by now. That, and he just wants to dump the work, problems, and responsibilities he doesn’t want to deal with onto somebody else as quickly as possible. So the sooner you find someone, the better.

“Next!”

“Good evening, Miss Lioncourt. My name is Juliette—”

“Well, yes. We’ll get to all that. Sit down. Don’t just stand there, lurking in the doorway and making the place look untidy. What are you doing here?”

“Well, I think I could do a good job as your and your brother’s assistant.”

You read her mind. “You don’t listen to The Vampire Lestat?”

“Uh, no.”

“And before today, you had never heard of me nor my brother.”

“No.”

“And you have no style or sense of fashion.”

“Well, um, I think that depends on what you’re—”

“No, no. That wasn’t a question. A shame you were late.”

“I'm not late, though? I’m fifteen minutes early.”

“What do you mean fifteen minutes early? Did no one ever tell you fifteen minutes early is the new late? Have you had any experience before in this kind of position?”

“I already sent in my CV. All my information should be there.”

“You sent your CV through? You know, I don’t really remember you. Let me have a look. You look very different from your CV. Mmm. Well, your skills and experience are…adequate, I would say. But first thing you should know is that this job is not for the faint of heart. Lestat is incredibly fussy with his PAs. More so than I am. During our time on tour, we have had over sixty PAs come through our doors and, for one reason or another, Lestat or I just…didn’t get on with them. And no one really has ever been as good as… Well, you don’t need to know their name as it’s irrelevant, but Lestat had a favorite Personal Assistant a long, long time ago, and he hasn’t quite gotten over their leaving. Ah, Lestat est si nostalgique (Ah, Lestat is so nostalgic). They were his very most favorite assistant, so you have some mighty big shoes to fill. I hope you know that. Mhm. Well, it doesn’t really matter how well you do your job or how efficient you are. If Lestat or I don’t like you, you’re out. If you disappoint Lestat or I, you’re out. And if me telling you this makes you think I’m high maintenance or a piece of work, you won’t be able to survive in this position.”

Juliette has a feeling your use of the word ‘survive’ in this context isn’t just a figure of speech. She swallows down her nerves.

“I am the patron saint of mercy and patience compared to my brother, so if you have any doubts about your abilities, there’s the door. Otherwise…bonne chance.” (Good luck.)

“I’ll try my best-”

“Now, our concert tonight isn’t for another two hours or so, so we have a little bit of time to go over everything. Apart from us, you’d be working closely with Christine as well, so let me get this straight with you off the bat. You and Christine would have totally different jobs. She’s our lawyer and is in charge of Lestat and I’s schedule, our appointments, and our finances. She gets to go with us to Paris for Fashion Week in the fall, she gets to go to all the shows, meet all the designers, go to all the parties, it’s divine. Christine is also a vampire like us, so don’t think you can do what she can do because, trust me, you can’t. You, as a human, on the other hand, well…you get ‘coffee’ and run errands. ‘Coffee’ is code for blood, in case you hadn’t figured that out. Now, also remember you must pick up our band mates’ and guests’ coffee orders as well. Our guests could be designers, clients, musicians, models, photographers…. Anybody from the fashion, musical, or vampire world, and you are expected to learn everyone’s ‘coffee’ order. Remember, for vampires, ‘coffee’ is blood, and for humans like our band mates, it’s, well…regular coffee. Starbucks, Caribou, Dunkin’ Donuts, wherever you prefer. Now, this does change from time to time, I will admit. For instance, Zakk Wylde used to take his coffee black but now he’s um, not even drinking caffeine anymore, so you’ll just have to keep up-to-date with all our guests and their companions or assistants will tell you what they prefer that given day. We have an internal system of all the orders of the ‘coffees’ and the beverages that everybody drinks so you’re expected to learn that. Now, our internal system has everything, everything that you could possibly ever want to know. ‘Coffee’ orders, all our social media accounts, all our files, all of our system data, so I’ll get you set up on that now.”

You type away at the computer, pulling up the appropriate screen.

“So can I just take your full name? This’ll become part of your username. Okay. And what password would you like? You can change this, obviously. And your date of birth.”

When Juliette tells you her DOB, you do a double take. “Mon Dieu (my god), you look older. Okay. And your social media handles. Your Instagram first. Facebook? And Twitter? Any other social media accounts? Okay. Let’s see.” You click the ‘save new user’ and ‘apply new changes’ buttons. “All right, done. Can I take your number and then this will get pinged over to your phone? Okay. Should be through now.”

Juliette’s phone pings with a new email.

“Got it? Perfect. So those are your login details.”

“Thank you, I might have some qu—”

“Now, Lestat’s and I’s ‘coffee’ orders are incredibly important. We expect our ‘coffee’ to be on our desks precisely when we wake up in the evening. If the ‘coffee’ is late or if it doesn’t arrive for any reason, Lestat and I - especially Lestat - get very upset. One assistant actually missed our ‘coffee’ order because of some, I don’t know, bus crash downtown or something like that, some lame excuse, and…well, we drank him instead. Drained him dry. We don’t often share since most humans faint from just one of us feeding on them. Sharing a human and drinking as much as needed to feel full and satiated before the heart stops would mean certain death for them. With cell phones and social media, it’s getting harder and harder these days to make a human disappear. But it’s not impossible. Now, don’t look so scared! You won’t have to do this every night. Sometimes Lestat and I prefer to hunt for ourselves like in the old days for nostalgia’s sake. You’ll be notified in advance if we decide to hunt ourselves. But if not, it’s up to you to keep us fed, and Lestat and I tend to be very picky eaters. A fresh young girl, that is his favorite food. But the triumphant kill for a sadist like Lestat is always a young man. Young men appeal to him in particular. They represent the greatest loss to Lestat, because they stood on the threshold of the maximum possibility of life. For me, I don’t mind a young woman while she’s on her monthly cycle. It reminds me of who I used to be and what I once had. But I prefer…what do you call them in English? Ah, yes. DILFs or MILFs. Men or women who seem to be doing well in life. They have more ‘taste’, like aged wine. Lestat likes to take away young men from all their possibilities, while I like to take what I’ll never have as well: A menstrual cycle, a pregnancy, Getting old, settling down…”

“Did you and Lestat…feed on pregnant women and children?” Juliette asks hesitantly, as if afraid the question might be offensive to you.

“We used to. Not anymore though. We’d feed on infants too if blood was scarce and we were especially desperate. They were so small, there wasn’t much blood in their bodies to drink before their tiny hearts stopped. It may seem especially heinous, but in the 18th century when we became vampires, medicine wasn’t what it is now and the mortality rates in women and children were already very high even before the Revolution. People would notice if too many men died or disappeared as they held the most power and societal influence, but nobody would bat an eye if it was a woman or a child. They’d write it off as another stillborn or another unfortunate victim who succumbed to a tragic and fatal accident or whatever disease was most prevalent at the time. We were beggars and couldn’t afford to be choosers in those days. But now, like I said, we are much more particular. We don’t feed on animal blood and we don’t like cold blood from blood bags. Even if it’s been heated up in the microwave and poured in a glass, it’s not the same as when it’s warm and flowing directly from a still-beating heart. We’ll only feed on blood bags or animal blood if we absolutely have to - for example, if we’re seriously wounded from sun exposure or major loss of blood. If we cannot consume high-quality blood, we might as well drink blood from Florida. That being said, I am sure there is still decent blood to drink in Florida. But I would bring a test kit anyway. But if you value your job and your life, you’ll find us each a human volunteer to feed from, preferably ones that match our specifications.”

“And where—”

“Yes, our ‘vampire victim’ preferences and sleep and feeding schedule will be noted on the internal system so pay very close attention to it. Use Tinder or other dating apps to find matches, if you must. We don’t care what you have to do to make it happen, you’ll get us our goddamn blood. And then, once we’re done, we’ll have a car waiting for our human volunteers so they can be taken home to sleep it off. The vampire’s kiss can be like an opiate, but their blood sugar tends to drop and they get very woozy afterwards. We’ve been doing really well so far. Our kill percentage has been decreasing lately with only one or two upward spikes here and there. We’d like to keep that going.”

“That’s quite a reli—”

“You are also expected to update our social media. Every. Single. Day. The social media schedule is on the internal system and you must adhere to it. Like biblical. Lestat and I are in charge of and personally manage our personal social media accounts, so you won’t have to worry about those, but you will be in charge of managing our business accounts, including our official page for our band. And we get very upset when our assistants don’t post to social media or they forget to post to social media or it’s not right. And you cannot just upload anything just willy-nilly. Lestat and I approve every social media post, so if it hasn’t been approved by either Lestat or I, then don’t upload it. Now, when we go to Paris in the fall for Fashion Week, you’re expected to double the amount of social media posts that you will already post as a minimum.”

“But the time difference…”

“What do you mean about time differences? Well, you’re not expected to sleep whilst Fashion Week is on. Qui dort pendant la Fashion Week, franchement? (Who sleeps during Fashion Week, seriously?) You’ll have to figure it out. Our photographers will be sending you the pictures that they take from all the shows and all the couture and all of that and you’re expected, once Lestat or I have approved them, to be uploading and retweeting and regraming around the clock. You’re also expected to filter out any derogatory comments or any sort of foul language that is on the social media pages. Yes, it’s pretty intense. What, you don’t think you’ll be able to do it? You’re also expected to take pictures that represent us on a daily basis and put those up on the Cloud for Lestat and I’s approval before posting.”

“Will I be provided a camera for this?”

“Yes, you’ll be given a camera that’s state of the art, top of the range that you’ll be expected to use. As I’m sure you know, Lestat and I also have our own fashion magazine - Veins & Vanity. Yup. It’s a bestseller. Even more popular than Daniel Molloy’s trashy novel about us.”

“Who’s Daniel Molloy?”

“What do you mean? You don’t know who Daniel Molloy is? Have you been living under a rock? Pas très maline, celle-là. (Not very smart, this one.) I don’t have time to explain it right now, but— As the new personal assistant, you’ll eventually be in charge of dropping off the book each night to our apartment. But Lestat and I are very private and we don’t like strangers in our house, so until we both decide you’re not a total psycho, Christine gets the lovely task of waiting around for the book. Let me show you an example.” You flip through a thick, spiral-bound book. “This is the book for this month. As you can see, it’s a mock-up of the newest edition of our magazine. This is usually assembled at 10 or 10:30 in the evening and you must wait around for it until then. A car will take you straight to our house and you let yourself in and you do not talk to anyone. Do not look at anyone. This is of the utmost importance. You must be invisible. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“So you open the door and you walk across the way, you hang our dry cleaning in our closets across from the staircase and you leave the book on the table with flowers. Do NOT go upstairs for any reason. That is the coffin room where Lestat and I sleep and it’s strictly prohibited to humans. We do not like our sleep to be disturbed. We are very light sleepers so if you try, we will hear your footsteps squeaking on the hardwood floors before you even make it halfway up the stairs. And when we’re tired, we’re not so kind. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You will quietly leave in the same car you arrive in. Then, in the morning, it will come back to you and be left on a desk - usually it’s Christine’s desk - and Lestat and I will leave notes, which are in blue and red sticky notes here. You will then drop it off at the Art Department where they can systematically go through Lestat’s and I’s notes and make changes. So, that is the book.”

You pause as realization dawns on you that Juliette has just been sitting there, listening to you but not typing or writing anything that you’ve said down.

“…Have you not been taking notes?” You rub your temples. “Oh my god, have I just been talking to myself this entire time?” You hold your hand up, stopping Juliette from attempting to explain herself. “No, don’t. I don’t care how good your memory is. Just…just…” You clench and unclench your fists in frustration, your nails digging into your palms.

Your cell phone rings.

“Look, let me take this phone call, you make notes, and…” You pick up the phone. “Y/N Lioncourt. Yes, hello, Christine. No. No, the Molloy interview is next week. …What time? Yes. I will let everybody know. Yes. Yes. Yes, take care, Christine. Salut, salut, salut.”

You hang up the phone.

“Okay. Something major has just happened. The Molloy interview, which was meant to be next week, has been moved to tonight at 2:30 after the concert. So people are panicking and my cell phone is going to be ringing off the hook. Les humains sont toujours si stressés.” (Humans are always so stressed out.)

You go into your recent calls and redial Christine’s number with a tap of your finger.

“Yes, Christine, me again. What time is the editor coming in? So we’ve got a little bit of time before the documentary crew arrives. Yes. Yes. Have you let Sophie know? Yes. And…yes. What about our jackets though? Lestat expressed he wanted to wear the chartreuse with the ostrich feathers… Oh, they’ve been dropped. Okay. That’s fine, I’ll make a note of that. Okay.”

You hang up but it isn’t even two minutes before your phone rings again.

“Y/N Lioncourt. Yes. I know, I know. Yes. Tonight 2:30. Yes. Yes. Can you remember to bring those belts as well? All right. Thank you.”

You hang up and focus your attention back on Juliette.

“Like I say, people are panicking. Now, you’re expected to note down everything that Lestat or I do and don’t like. Now, Lestat, if he likes it, he’ll nod his head once. If he nods twice, he really, really likes it. And if he shakes his head, he doesn’t like it, and if he purses his lips…disaster. I think there was only two records of a smile. And that was for Louis Vuitton way back in 1858 and Yves Saint Laurent in 1966. So you’ve got everything now? Well, there’s no time to explain anymore, this Molloy interview business is really…”

Your phone buzzes repeatedly, something that only happens if given an emergency call or alert.

“getting…out of hand… This isn’t good. Y/N Lioncourt. You’re joking. How long? Yes. I’ll let everyone know. Merde!”

Your fingers rapidly type a quick message to send out in a group text before you dial a number.

“This is not good. This is not good. Mia, it’s me. Lestat is coming in twenty minutes! Yes, I know he’s early! Can you let Sophie and the team know? Well, I can’t do it because I’m babysitting this new PA. Please, Mia. I’ll let you have my Prada bag. Thank you, Mia. Yes, salut.”

You hang up again and nearly jump out of your skin when you glance over and see Juliette still sitting in front of your desk.

“Oh my god, I totally forgot you were still here! That’s crazy. Yeah, sorry, babes. My peripheral vision is kind of selective. Like if my eyes get the vibe something is boring they just won’t tell my brain about it, you know what I mean? Yeah, that’s why I failed my driver’s test eight times. At a four way stop if the other drivers seem ugly, they’re basically invisible to me. All right. Lestat is coming in early, and he’s going to be here in twenty minutes, which means we need to get you ready because I can’t possibly let you in to see Lestat looking like that. Did you even look at yourself before you got dressed this morning? I don’t understand why you look like you rolled out of bed or something. Like you just said, ‘oh my god, I’m late, let me just go to work.’ Look, you can always be two minutes late in life. Nobody’s gonna tell you nothing if you’re two minutes late. You could put on a nicer top. It doesn’t take five years to find a nicer top and get out of your pajamas. I don’t know. Maybe it’s something like your culture. I’ve seen a lot of people on the streets just walking around in pajamas, going into the store to get something. So maybe it’s a cultural thing. Maybe the less attractive you look, the better your chance to find a mate or something? I don’t understand this dynamic, but I’m learning. Don’t worry, don’t worry. Calm, calm, calm. Les humains, vraiment tous pareils. (Humans, really all the same.) I’ll fix this. Right. What size are you?”

“Six.”

“Well, that will have to change if you want to continue working here. Four is the new six, you know. All right. I’ll see what I have available but… I can’t promise anything. What size shoe are you?” You get up from your desk and pace around before going into another room.

Juliette can hear you mumbling to yourself, “Everything is just everywhere! Danielle, have you got those, um, Prada pumps?” before you come back shortly with a pair of heels in your hand and a dress draped over your arm. “All right. This is all I could find in your size unfortunately. So I got you some nice heels here. They’re beige. They’re last season, but beggars can’t be choosers, right? Heels are a must. I don’t want to catch you in loafers or, god forbid, sneakers. So heels must be worn at all times.”

You lift a backpack and hold it up precariously by pinching your thumb and index finger together on the top loop, as if you don’t want to touch it at all. You look at Juliette. “What is this? Is this your bag? Oof. It’s hideous. Elle n’a donc vraiment aucun goût! (So she really doesn’t have any good taste!) Don’t let Lestat see you with that. Absolutely hideous. And I got you this Gucci dress. And…well, that’s all I could find for you.” You hand her the heels and dress. “Now, look, go and get changed.”

“Here?”

“Well, yes, here! We don’t have time for you to go wandering around the building.”

“But the walls are glass! Anyone could walk by and see me in my underwear!”

“Well, it doesn’t matter! We’ve had so many naked women and men in this office, more than an adult film sometimes. Now, come on, get on with it, I don't have time for this!”

Your phone rings again.

“Y/N Lioncourt. Yes, he’s coming in twenty minutes. Well, probably less than that now. Yes. You’ll need to send somebody out for ‘coffee’. Well, yes. This new PA is just a nightmare. You can get Jack to go? Yes, that’ll be great.”

You hang up again. You turn back to look at Juliette, now dressed in what you gave her.

“Are you done? Let me have a look. Well, that doesn’t go like that and let me just pull that down for you there. Seriously, do you even know how to dress yourself? That will do. It’s a little bit tight but…what about shoes? Good? All right. Let me have a look at your hair. Oh. We don’t have time for this. We really, really don’t. It looks like you’ve just stepped off the subway.”

“Well, yeah…”

“Why on earth did you take the subway? You can get a cab. Elle doit être tellement pauvre pour prendre le métro. (She has to be so poor if she is taking the subway.) Don’t worry. Let me just look at you. So, yeah, first priority is gonna be how you smell because I’m going to have to experience that the entire time I’m working on you and currently these are inhumane working conditions.”

“Do I really smell that bad?”

“Yeah, you smell like a gymnasium. Don’t worry, babes, we’ll take care of that. We’re gonna douse you in Cloud, everyone loves it. Yeah, it’s a universal favorite. It will make you smell like you’ve been in a bubble bath your entire life up until this very moment. I got enough Cloud to make a crowd scatter.” You spritz the perfume all around Juliette.

“Ouch!” She blinks and rubs at her eyes.

“I got it in your eyes? Close them. Oh my god, so much better already. Next up is your hair. Oh my gosh, I love your hair! Um, is it okay if I touch it?”

“Sure?”

“Cool, thanks. It’s so pretty. It’s so soft. It’s gorgeous. I like this color for you. It’s very nice, very good.”

“Thank—”

“But…uh…” You rub her hair between your pointer finger, middle finger, and thumb. “Oh, it’s very dry. Oh my god, it’s very dry! It’s not healthy at all! Can I tell you that? It’s not at all healthy. Do you use any product on it? Do you use anything to help it? Like some kind of oils or cream? Something?”

“Not really?”

“So like…what kind of products do you use on your hair usually?”

“Pantene.”

“Pantene? Babe, you might as well be using Nair. What the hell? It’s very straight. You must use a straightener like every day. Yeah. And yet it’s so frizzy somehow. I hate frizzy hair and yours is kind of hay-like. C’est comme de la paille. (It’s like straw.) Like a frail piece of straw that’ll break from a gust of wind. It’s not good. How many times do you try to straighten your hair? Okay, I’m just asking because the more I touch it the worse it gets. Look at it, it’s so thin. It’s so thin. I feel like if I touch it too much, it’s going to snap. It’s going to snap.” You curl a strand that falls out around your pointer fingers and pull. “It makes a sound too! It sounds like plastic. Look at that! It’s plastic.” You let it fall away and shake off your fingers. “It’s quite disgusting in my opinion. No offense.”

“But you just said—”

“I know what I said. I thought I liked it, but it doesn’t look very good up close. It’s like one of those abstract paintings. From afar, it makes sense and I can see the picture, but when I come close to it, it’s like…why don’t I understand where the paint strokes are going? I don’t understand this. What is happening here? Like from afar, it looks very nice, you look very good, very put together. But then when I come close, your hair looks like trash. And when I touch the texture of your hair, it feels like it will break. Lestat and I have curly hair too, so no hate towards curly hair, but this is…interesting. I don’t know…”

“Do you use anything on your hair to get it so curly?”

“No, ours is natural. Yeah. In our family a lot of us had blonde and/or curly hair and we didn’t dye it or perm it or use heat on it. Yeah, if you watch him closely, you’ll notice Lestat’s hair is like bleachy blond. It’s so light that sometimes it appears white under fluorescent lights. He takes after our mother, Gabrielle. Lestat and I’s hair is all natural and we don’t have to use anything on it. It just dries curly. That’s why it’s so healthy. Oui, nous avons de la chance. (Yes, we are so lucky.) That’s why Lestat’s grew past his shoulders and mine grew nearly to my butt by the time we were changed. We cut it and it just grows back the same way. Yeah. That’s why we have a lot of it. Lestat and I actually did each other’s hair today. Yeah, he did my hair for me so it’s like perfect today and I just don’t want anyone to touch it. But yours is like…very thin. So thin. And the amount of frizz and hair damage you have is ridiculous, even though you definitely don’t dye it or style it or anything whatsoever. So how you managed to get it looking this bad…honestly, an enigma. It’s really disturbing actually. Have you ever thought about dying it? Yeah, ‘cause the closer I look at the color of your hair, it’s very…off. Yeah, the… What do you call this color? Strawberry blonde?”

“Yes, it’s—”

“The strawberry blonde moment is just not doing it for you. I don’t like it. Again I use the analogy of the painting because, from afar, it looks good, but, up close, it looks like ramen noodles. I don’t know how to explain it. Do you know what I mean? Non, elle ne doit pas comprendre. (No, she can’t understand.) Like ramen noodles in the box and you put it in the hot water. And it’s yellow and hard. That’s what…yeah. I don’t know. I just think of you as more of a soft caramel color. Especially a little bit lighter at the ends I think would look really good later down the road. Well, for now, I think you have to just cut it all off. Just go short and start over. I feel like a lot of split ends are here. Yeah, you have a lot of split ends, oh my god. You’re full of them. Just take it all off and stop using heat on it. Just stop it all. Don’t do anything anymore to it. Just don’t touch it. Don’t touch it anymore. Do you ever go to a hairdresser to cut your hair?”

“Of c-”

“You know what? I’m gonna hook you up with my stylist, Celeste. Yeah, she’s amazing with hair. She does mine and Lestat’s and she’s just amazing. I think you’re gonna love it. I think just a little bit of layering because you’re very much all one length here. Yeah, that was like so…2005. Yeah, you gotta change it up a little. Put some layers in and I think it’s gonna look really good. Some nice face framing layers and, like I said, a nice caramel color. Like a chocolate at the top and, as it goes down, it gets lighter and lighter. We’ll go to Celeste and you don’t talk to her. Let me talk and I’ll tell her what to do because this is, in my opinion, unacceptable. I don’t understand why you wanna keep it this way. Elle est donc aveugle. (So she is blind.) Do you like it like that? Do you like it looking frizzy and breaking? Because if you like it like that, you just keep it, you know I don’t care. It’s really none of my business what you wanna do with your hair. It’s just not a good impression in my opinion.”

“No, no, I ca—”

“No offense, but it looks like you really don’t take care of yourself at all. It just gives a wrong impression like you don’t care about yourself and when you have that impression like, ‘I don’t care about myself’ and you go out like, ‘I don’t care about myself, so why should I care about other people.’ Do you understand? So I think this is something that you need to work on. Because I don’t like when people just look like they don’t really care about anything. Because it’s like, then why are you even here? Why are you here if you don’t care about anything at all? Do you know what I mean? If you don’t care, just go live on a mountain or something. Don’t come and live in society because there’s certain standards that we want and have to uphold. And this is not it. This is not it. You use your hair as a safety net but it’s not gonna save you from a bullet or a train, so it’s not really a safety net. So for today, I have the lovely challenge of making your chemically damaged hair look passable for Lestat. Yikes! I really don’t even know where to begin. Just kidding! Yes, I do! We’re gonna start with detangling spray. A nice spritz of this is gonna make all of those millions and billions of little tangles so much easier to manage. Close your eyes this time, okay? Perfect. I love this detangling spray so much. The tangles are working out like butter. Brush, brush, brush it all out. Brush, brush, brush it all out. The next step is gonna be this hair oil. Thick and full, Biotin and Collagen weightless oil mix. It’s got vitamin B7, Biotin, Collagen, hydrolyzed protein. All kinds of goods that your pathetic little strands have never seen in their lives. This is gonna make your hair look so silky and healthy instead of thirsty and tragic. Gonna work that through. As far as the style - Oh, god. What if we just like, grab a stand from either side and clip them together in the back? That can be pretty foolproof. I think I’ve got a clip over here. Yeah, this’ll be cute on you. Let me grab a strand from the right side of your face. Little bigger than that. Grab a strand from the left side of your face and then meet them together in the back, grab that clip and clip those together. Oh my gosh, so much better already, but still a ways to go. On progresse, on progresse. (We make progress, we make progress.) Then there’s your makeup. It’s not doing you any favors. Like really bland. Wait - are you even wearing any makeup?”

“No…”

“No?” You gasp. “Nothing at all? Oh, wow! Okay.” You interlace your fingers together in contemplation. “You’re actually pretty cute - in like a weird kind of way - like an armadillo! But yeah, cute. Okay. This has me rethinking everything. I thought we were starting from an entirely different place. If this is the blank slate we’re working with, there’s actually hope! We can get you to like a solid…6.5. I’m serious! But it’s gonna take hard work to get there. Blood, sweat, and tears, babe. But it’ll be worth it. I’m gonna pull out all my best tricks. Have you ever taken care of your skin? It looks just…dull…but I think I can bring it to life because, even though it is dull, it also has this perfection to it that not many have. This is good. This is good.”

You pat Juliette’s skin with cleansing pads.

“I’m going to use products from Lestat’s and I’s makeup brand. It’s called Bloodlust. I’m just trying to cover up some of the imperfections so that when I style you next time, I can have a better idea of what the final product is going to be. First we’re gonna moisturize you up nice and good because your skin texture is like asphalt. Let me grab a beauty blender. Hydrating your skin, giving it that gorgeous, gorgeous glow it desperately needs. Making sure that the foundation is gonna have a nice surface to stick to. Wow, your skin is seriously drinking this up, it’s so dry. Have you like, ever moisturized before in your life? You’re like a freak of nature. No offense. Les humains peuvent être des créatures si étranges de nos jours. (Humans can be such strange creatures nowadays.) ‘Kay. Now we’re gonna plop on the foundation with that same beauty blender. Just layering on more and more and more and more and more until we cannot see even a single pore of your actual skin anymore because it’s giving very much Nosferatu. And now, thanks to me, it’s giving very much Malibu! Let’s pick the perfect blush shade for you. Let me get a closer look at your skin, actually. Okay, so even with the foundation on, I can still tell that you’re working with a pretty warm undertone here. So we want something pretty and peachy rather than like a pastel pink. Got it! I know just the one! Blending that over your cheeks. Oh yeah, it’s bringing some life into your face in a big way. C’est pas encore ça, mais c’est déjà mieux!” (We’re not done yet, but it’s already better!)

You open your eyeshadow palette. “For your eyes we’re gonna do something kind of light because your eyes are actually one of your nicest features.”

“Thank you?”

“Yeah, so we want to highlight them, not hide them. Let’s take this nice bronze and just do like a nice subtle wash through the outer corner into the crease. Do you even know what eyeshadow is? Ridiculous. Just add a bit of depth and sparkle and let’s pick up a highlight color and dip that in your inner corners. And then a touch more sparkle in the middle. Now we’re getting somewhere. Next is the mascara. Just a little tip from me to you: Mascara is the most important step of makeup. I swear even if you don’t have time to do anything else, mascara is the one thing you cannot skip. Like if I was human and saw a bear lunging towards me, I’d take the time between then and my mauling to apply a fresh coat. If that gives you any idea of the importance. Never, ever, ever let me catch you outside of your house without mascara.”

“I don’t really—”

“Like even if you go to the gym, I want you to wear that because you can’t just like, be associated with me or my brother if you’re gonna look like you just rolled out of the trash, you know what I mean? The most important thing to remember about this job is that you must look impeccable at all times. Your hair, your makeup…flawless all the time. Lestat and I get very upset if we see people looking drab or unkempt or unmade up. So you must look good at all times. Just blink when I say. Wow, cute. Can you look up for me? Oh and, next time, we have to do something about your eyebrows ‘cause they’re just all over the place. Yeah they’re just a little bit too bushy for my tastes personally but if you like looking like an orangutan, that’s fine. It’s up to you. Oh yeah, I could totally bring you to my esthetician. Or I could just do them for you like I’m such a pro. When I was human, I did Lestat’s, I did my mother’s. I do it for my human band mates and friends. J’espère qu’elle ne croit pas que nous allons devenir amies.” (I hope she doesn’t believe we’ll become friends.)

You check your phone.

“Well. We’re out of time, so this is as good as it’s going to get. It’s showtime. Stay after the concert and I’ll introduce you to Lestat before the Molloy interview. Don’t worry, I won’t let him bite or kill you on your first day.”

Unseen, Juliette watches the entire show from the sidelines. Your set exceeds the usual 45 minutes or hour most concerts are, on account of you and Lestat deciding to play at least three encores. After the concert, Juliette is waiting for you in the hallway that connects the main stage with the backstage area. Finally you exit, your bass slung over your back and Lestat beside you, your human bandmates somewhere else, probably the bar. Your hair and makeup are still flawless since, as vampires, you don’t sweat. Having slipped out of the Prada heels for comfort’s sake, she had been casually leaning against the wall for the duration of the show since nobody would notice her in the dark. But she straightens up from her slouched position immediately, quickly slipping back into the heels and smoothing out her hair and the dress you loaned her before either you or Lestat can notice as you meet her offstage. Phew. That was close.

“Mr. Lioncourt,” Juliette says, using every muscle in her body to speak up with conviction and not shake or twitch from anxiety in his presence. Although you promised you’d protect her today, that protection may expire eventually. She knows that you and Lestat hate weakness, and she cannot show it in his or your presence if she hopes to keep this job.

“Yes? Can I help you?” With his arm slung around your shoulders lazily, he furrows his brow. Arching it questioningly, he barely makes eye contact with her and instead focuses his attention on you, as if waiting for an explanation as to why this human has been allowed backstage, is standing in front of him and you, and is addressing him.

“Well… I’m Juliette, your new assistant. Ms. Lioncourt hired me earlier this evening,” Juliette explains.

“You’re the new PA? You’ve got to be joking.” While keeping an eye on Juliette, he turns his head halfway to whisper in your ear, “Ma soeur, avons-nous eu si peu de candidats qu’il a fallu que tu choisisses celle-là?” (Sister, did we get so few of candidates that you had to pick this one?)

“I’m sorry if I’m not what you were expecting but… Mr. Lioncourt, I need to tell you that I absolutely love your yellow jacket. The bird feathers are a nice touch. Very stylish. Very you.”

“Are you colorblind? It’s not yellow, it’s chartreuse. And they’re not just bird feathers, they’re ostrich feathers.”

“Are they real?”

“Do you know anything about fashion?”

“I wouldn’t—” Juliette catches your warning glance. “Yes, of course I do.”

“Then you know that, of course, they’re real. I only wear clothes made out of genuine leather and fur because I’m all about being genuine in my music and my personal life and I want what I feel on the inside to reflect on the outside. Many animals had to die, but that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make if it’s for the noble cause of making me look this good.”

“Do you wear clothing made from endangered species too?”

“Sometimes. My sister and I both still have articles that were made from now extinct species too. But we were around long before those species ever became endangered or extinct. The failure of your kind to preserve and protect your environment is not our fault nor our problem. Enough chit chat. Onto the main issue: Let me have a look at you. Turn.”

Juliette turns in a circle very quickly.

“No. Slower.”

Juliette turns in a circle again, this time much slower than before.

Lestat scoffs in annoyance at her inability to follow clear directions. “Just stay still.” He leaves your side to walk in a circle around Juliette, looking her up and down with his hand on his chin, his fingers moving over his mouth occasionally. He doesn’t look away from her as he switches to French, once again talking about her as if she isn’t there. He clicks his tongue, as if tsk, tsk, tsking. “Vraiment, ma soeur? C’est tout ce que tu as trouvé? Elle ne sera jamais à la hauteur. Son visage passe encore, mais il va falloir qu’elle apprenne à s’habiller et se coiffer dignement.” (Really, sister? Is it all you have been able to find? She’ll never be good enough. Her face is okayish, but she will have to learn how to dress and do her hair with dignity.)

He switches back to English. “Well. Juliette, is it? I hope you know you are very lucky to get this position. Anyone would kill to be standing where you’re standing right now. We had over one hundred applicants for this position and, trust me, it was not easy whittling them down, I must say. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be here. I always hire the same boy or girl…stylish, slender, of course…worships us and the band. But so often, they’ve turned out to be…I don’t know…disappointing and, um…stupid. So you, who probably has an impressive resume and made a big speech about your so-called work ethic… my sister must think you’ll be different. And since I left her in charge of hiring the new PA this time around, I guess I’ll just have to live with her decision.” Lestat then looks at you and waves you both off. "Vas-y, ma soeur. Prends le risque. Embauche la grosse intello.” (Go ahead, Sister. Take a chance. Hire the smart, fat girl.)

On the other side of the large and thick industrial double doors, you and Lestat, thanks to your super hearing, can hear Daniel and the documentary crew talking, clearly growing impatient.

“The car’s been on the lot for hours, man.”

“Hey, look, if you want, I can have somebody knock on the window.”

“I, uh…I think they…”

“What? What? You think what?”

“I think they’re entertaining somebody right now,” someone says, pointing out that he saw you and Lestat earlier, and Lestat had bite marks and hickeys on his chest while you had a new girl next to you.

“Do we have insurance for homicide?”

“You know what, we had three deaths on the Banger Sisters, don't worry about it.”

You and Lestat push open the doors and make your entrance.

“That's them. Jesus Christ, look at them,” Daniel says in awe.

You gesture with your arm for Juliette to not follow you and to instead wait on the sidelines with the rest of the human crew while you and Lestat walk to the matching black leather chairs waiting for you.

“Okay, let's go. Mr. and Ms. Lioncourt, hi. Mark Johnson. I'm the executive producer. We’ve talked on the phone a couple of times.”

“We're really excited about the...documentary...” Daniel trails off awkwardly.

You and Lestat leave Mark hanging, not making any attempt to shake his hand. You can smell that he didn’t properly wash his hands and instead just used hand sanitizer. Disgusting. Is basic hygiene really a lost art among humans? You stare at him blankly, as if bored already from listening to him speak.

“Je ne me souviens pas de lui, est-ce que tu te souviens de lui, ma soeur?” (I don't remember him. Do you remember him, Sister?)

“No. Usually I have a memory like a steel trap but we talk to so many people every day, and, clearly, this human didn’t leave much of an impression or impact. Comme la plupart d’entre eux malheureusement.” (Like the majority of them, unfortunately.)

“…Okay.” Mark awkwardly puts his arm back down.

“Hey, man. Thanks for the tickets last night. Great show,” Daniel praises. His deadpan voice leaves you unsure if he’s being sincere or sarcastic.

“You have 45 minutes and they’re gone.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“This is Christine Claire, Mr. And Ms. Lioncourt's lawyer.”

“Hair and makeup now.”

“Hi, I'm Tami—”

“Hi, I’m Sarah—”

You and Lestat both look up and pull your heads back so their makeup brushes and hands don’t touch your faces or hair. Lestat’s hair is already giving Michael Hutchence, while yours is giving Patricia Morrison. And your makeup, like your outfits, is already on point. You don’t need assistance when you’ve already achieved perfection, thank you very much.

“Do we look like we need you?”

Both makeup artists pause for a second and then retreat.

“They’re completely booked. No. Don’t even talk to me about it again for the next two months. They’re both booked.”

Lestat looks to his right. His shoulders slump as he deeply exhales and irritably taps his fingers on the armrest of the chair. He smacks his lips. “…There's a goblet on the table.”

“You don't like the goblet? Can we get rid of the goblet, please?” Daniel asks the crew.

“C'est tellement kitsch," (It’s so tacky) you say so only Lestat will understand.

"C'est de mauvais goût,” (It’s bad taste) Lestat concours.

A crew member takes the goblet away. Now that that cheap Party City Halloween decoration is gone, you can get on with it.

“Thank you. We need to wire you both for sound, I hope you don't mind.”

You and Lestat shrug.

“So the camera we're gonna be using is called an Interrotron. I'll be sitting here. You'll see my face in the camera like, uh, like we're talking to each other, and you don't have to just stare into an empty camera lens,” Daniel explains.

You and Lestat allow yourselves to be mic’d, but when the humans invade your personal space to put the microphones on your clothes, your vampire hearing can detect the fluid, or lack thereof, coursing through their bodies. You don’t have a problem with the person assisting you, but Lestat recoils in disgust, crinkling his nose. “Your sound man is dehydrated.”

“We’ll, uh, okay, we'll get him some water. Get him some water please.”

“Je ne te savais pas si attentionné avec les humains, Lestat. Cela me rendrait presque jalouse.” (I didn’t know you were so considerate of humans, Lestat. It almost makes me jealous.)

“Tu sais bien qu’ils ne m’intéressent pas, ma soeur.” (You know very well that I don’t care about them, sister.)

“All right, let's fucking go, people.”

“43 minutes.“

“Shut her the fuck up,” Daniel grumbles.

“We’re rolling! Quiet on set!”

“Take one, take one. And…action! Okay, we're gonna start. Listen, could you state your names for the camera?”

You and Lestat look up from the two copies of Daniel’s book you were leafing through.

“Justin Bieber.”

“Kylie Jenner.”

You and Lestat close your copies of Daniel’s book and place them on your laps, tapping your fingers against the hardcover, subtly nodding your heads.

“I see you have my book there, what do you think of...” Daniel starts retching. “I'm sorry. Excuse me… Give me a second here.”

“Daniel, are you okay?”

With your pointer fingers arched up, you and Lestat listen to Daniel’s retching as if it’s music to your ears. That should be answer enough for him to know what you and Lestat think of his book. The retching and the voices of the crew become background noise.

“I am the Vampire Lestat.”

“I am the Vampire Y/N.”

“Why are we retching?”

“We’re immortal.”

“I'm not doing it. It’s them,” Christine whispers.

“More or less.”

More retching.

“The light of the sun.”

“Can somebody get a glass of water?”

“The sustained heat of an intense fire. These things might destroy us. But then again, they might not.”

~

Take two.

Your eyes flicker back and forth between the camera and Daniel in front of you and J. Feldman, the first cameraman standing off to the side with the crew. The rest of the human crew either don’t see what you see, or they do and they’re just pretending to be oblivious. To be fair, you didn’t notice it during the first take either. But now that you’ve seen it, you can't unsee it. Not wanting to make a scene, you try to ignore him, but you’re obviously distracted. Lestat is the first to pick up on it, and he discreetly looks in the direction where your eyes are flickering to, but he doesn’t see what you see. If he did, there’d be a bloodbath to mop up. You make eye contact with Daniel and try to focus on finishing answering his question. “But...let's just say we, uh...we-we did a lot of writing. This is just, um...really just, uh… It's so special to be in Santa Carla, California - The Murder Capital of the World - again! The lights, the music, the energy, the people - It’s easily been my favorite venue spot so far on any tour. It surpassed our concert in Death Valley for me, which, before now, I thought was an impossible feat. Hmm.” Fuck it, you think to yourself. Your team and Daniel will just have to be okay with doing yet another reshoot.

“Ma soeur, est-ce que tout va bien?” (Sister, is everything all right?)

“Uh, I'm sorry, Feldman, what the fuck is that?” You ask bluntly, your tone laced with a bite to it as you stand up from your seat and lock eyes with the first cameraman. Everyone around him steps to the side, creating space between themselves and him in case shit is about to hit the fan or something is about to go down.

“What?” He furrows his brows in confusion when he looks at you, like a deer caught in headlights. Too scared that you’ll pounce on him like a wolf and latch your fangs into his jugular if he fully looks away from you for even half a second, he frantically glances from the corners of his eyes at either side of him, and sees from his peripheral vision that everyone has put a great deal of distance between himself and you. They are looking at the two of you with fear and apprehension in their eyes.

“What do you mean ‘what?’ That shitstain of a tattoo on your forearm. What the fuck do you have written there? ‘Armand told the truth’?”

Hearing those words, Lestat jumps up from his seat before the cameraman can blink. Lestat agreed to this documentary because he took issue with his portrayal in the book and wanted to set the record straight. Not because he wanted to invalidate everything Louis said but because when he read Interview with the Vampire, he was like, ‘ARMAND SAID I DID WHAT???’ and was angrily ripping out pages from his copy. He was annoyed with Armand's version of him and not Louis's (though you’re sure he doesn't agree with everything Louis said either.) Now this poor cameraman has two angry vampires standing on either side of him. You in front of him, and Lestat behind him. Just as enraged as you, Lestat is seething, his pupils just as dilated as yours. You haven’t seen him this angry since an incident during your tour in Death Valley.

~

You and Lestat pulled up to the auditorium in your shiny Porsche, dressed to the nines and exuding an air of money and status, ready to perform, but the security guy wouldn’t let you through at the gate. And Lestat was getting furious. The guy was like, ‘sir, miss, I can’t find your names on the list,’ and Lestat was steaming red because his ego was bruised. He’s a legend. Everyone knows his name. Anywhere Lestat goes, people flock to him, asking for selfies and autographs. He should be on the goddamn list. And even if he isn’t, he should be allowed through anyway because he’s Lestat fucking de Lioncourt. He’s a vampire aristocrat and rockstar, nowhere is inaccessible to him. He was really mad and was like, ‘why do you need my name?!’ so finally the guy was like, ‘sir, how do you spell your name?’ And Lestat went, ‘F-a-m-o-u-s!’ and then just hit the gas, breaking the barricade. It turned out the security guard couldn’t find your names on the list due to a spelling error, and Lestat’s name was listed as ‘Lesander Lionsourd’ (Lionsourd meaning deaflion).

~

His anger now is that times a billion. He is ready to tear out J. Feldman’s throat or rip his arms off. You make eye contact with Lestat and subtly shake your head at him. If you were anybody else, he’d ignore you and just go ahead and decapitate the man. He lived by the motto of ‘don’t ask for permission, ask forgiveness later.’ But for you, and only for you, he’ll be patient. Not just because you’re his sister and he loves you, but because he understands that you signaling for him to wait doesn’t mean you’ll show mercy. You don’t want this man dead. Yet. You want answers first.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Do you think that because we were born French on our father’s side and Italian on our mother’s that we can’t read English? Who tattooed that on you?” You ask.

“Uh, Joel Emerson, I think.”

“You think? Where does he tattoo?”

“O-over at Inkspire in L.A.”

“Christine, get that tattoo shop on the phone. And if Joel’s not working today, find his personal cell phone and call that.”

Christine quickly Googles the shop and dials their phone number. She hands her phone to you while it’s ringing. You hold it to your ear while glaring daggers at the soon-to-be former first cameraman.

“Hello, is Joel working today? I’d like to talk to him. I don’t care that he’s with a client right now. Tell him to put his machine down and come to the phone. It’s urgent. This is Y/N Lioncourt. Yeah, I thought so. Thank you. Joel, why? You fucking asshole. How could you agree to tattoo that on someone? I don’t care. I don’t care about ‘consenting adult clients’ and ‘it’s their money and their body, so they can get whatever they want’. I’m going to police people’s bodies if they’re going to do stupid shit like this! Because this is offensive and unacceptable to Lestat and I! You have no fucking idea who Armand is or what he’s done. You and every other human on the planet don’t even know half of it. You weren’t there because you weren’t even fucking born, so you can’t know! You can’t even begin to comprehend what the 18th and subsequent centuries were like. He’s a fucking cult leader, for fuck’s sake. Did you know that? Have you tattooed anything else relating to Armand on anybody else? No? What about the other artists in your shop? No? Are you sure? You better not be lying to me because if I look on your and your coworkers’ Instagrams and see another tattoo showing love or support of Armand, whether it’s his face, his name, or any more of that ‘Armand was right, Armand told the truth’ bullshit, I will get our lawyers involved and they will eviscerate you in court and take your shop and your tattoo license from you. I will not hesitate to do the same with other tattoo artists and tattoo shops. And don’t think deleting posts will save your ass. The internet is forever and my lawyer will use the Wayback Machine or find some other way to dig up those photos even if you delete them. Understand? Good. You won’t be hearing from me, Lestat, or our legal team so long as there won’t be any further issues. Have a good rest of your day. Bye.” You give Christine her phone back and she’s already typing away, working on keeping tabs on Inkspire and any other tattoo shop in the state for damage control.

“Uh...”

“And you! You amateur fuck. You’re fired.”

“What?”

“You heard me. There’s obviously a conflict of interest here, so you can pack up your shit and go. I want you to leave.”

“The building?”

“No, not just the building. I want you to leave the state.”

“I can’t just move to a different state! My friends, my family, and my entire life is here!”

“That’s not my problem. You should’ve thought of that before permanently scarring your body with a steaming pile of shit. I hope, for your sake, you either get it lasered off or covered up with a better tattoo. Then maybe, just maybe, you can move back. I am being lenient by letting you off with a warning and letting you walk away with your life. If either I or Lestat see you again and that still isn’t gone or covered, then we won’t be. I’m going to chop your fucking arm off with Lestat’s tiny pocket axe. I’m the more merciful of the Lioncourts, so it’ll feel like a massage compared to what Lestat will do to you. Go. Now.”

He runs away crying with his tail between his legs, urine running down his pant legs. You and Lestat scrunch up your nose at the foul odor. Disgusting. He’s lucky he didn’t get any of it on your Chanel boots or Lestat’s Christian Louboutin’s. Although you can afford it, it’d be a shame to ruin such expensive and stylish designer outfits with blood, guts and sinew. While there are frantic calls for a cleanup and reset, you and Lestat storm off to your dressing room, uncaring that you’re leaving Daniel behind, unsure on what to do or if there’ll even be an interview tonight. You pace back and forth in there, trying to get your breathing back under control. Once your eyes return to normal, you text Juliette that she doesn’t need to worry about picking up dinner. You and Lestat will get it yourselves. You could use the air and will be back in an hour. Lestat and you send Christine a similar text, telling her you’ll still do the Molloy interview, but you’re going out to feed and won’t be back for an hour. You both need to cool off and blow off some steam by going on a hunt. You both need a fucking meal before going back in there to attempt the interview again. Now would be a good time for Daniel and the crew to break for lunch. In the meantime, she should find another cameraman to replace Feldman. You and Lestat change into more “casual” clothes that you don’t care about getting messy. “Casual” for you meaning “old” designer clothes from last season.

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

⋆⁺₊❅. “Give you...whatever you need!"⋆⁺₊❅.

synopsis: being the captains assistant ;)

tags: lots of possessiveness, manipulation (?), power dynamics, dom capitano, vulgar, explicit, fingering, facefucking, begging, degradation, penetration, creampie, you get the gist

wrd cnt: 2.5k

a/n: doja cat pls release generous ( lyrics from the song as title) and my life is YOURS… also partly inspired by the azeru audio….

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Droplets of a custom blend of his favorite drink, warm and slightly sweet hit the bottom of a porcelain cup.

It was just something you did, something you knew The Captain liked and as his assistant, routinely did.

This particular evening it was as if everyone in the nation needed you. A task, an errand, or just had to stop you in your tracks to his quarters for some idle chat.

It must have been several minutes longer than when he was expecting you, which was far too long to keep the Captain waiting; occupied against your will.

His tea was cold by now.

Finally, you ran over to his door. The runway-like carpet ending and small tiles lining the entryway to his office, guarded and sealed.

But you were a regular.

The guard knocked on the door, “Sir, your assistant has returned” he announced, waiting for an answer.

It took a few seconds, but you could hear a faint “Let her in”.

You sigh deeply and watch the giant doors open and shut behind you as you walk into the dimly lit room, only candles and small lamps lit across the table and crackling fireplace that remained behind The Captain’s seated body.

“Over and Over. I must have called you a thousand times? More or less.” He spoke, his voice clear even through the steel mask that adorned his face.

“I’m so sorry-“ You quickly respond, placing the cup on the edge of his desk and folding your hands together. “I got caught up with some others- a few harbingers as well needed my assistance.”

He straightened his legs, now standing in front of you, making you back up just slightly due to his large frame.

“It’s as if you’ve forgotten who you serve.” He said, the point of his gauntlet nail scratching the edge of your jaw and trailing down to your chin.

“Who kept you so long?” He asked, quickly adding “Never mind. Don’t tell me, I’d rather not know.”

You have trouble knowing where to look. Not wanting to cause any more trouble for yourself.

“Now that you’re here…maybe we should get started. You’ll probably need to stay overnight.” He mentioned.

You nod, agreeably to not seem like you’re eager to leave.

You sorted out all the intel Capitano had been collecting. There were piles of data, equipment, maps, and so much more. You were the only person he’d let touch them. It was common for you to stay late, as work never seems to dry out. It was also common for you to be whatever he wanted you to be. Errand runner, liaison…or his toy to let out his frustrations.

Everyone sees The Captain for what he puts on. Respectable and professional.

Most of the fatui honestly confess to enjoying working for him, as he has been much kinder than the others.

He can be, but he has his limits.

How can he be so kind to you when you’re late? You dared to keep him waiting.

“This is unlike you.” He says, noticing you yawn as you flip through the pages.

You blink your eyes a second too long, “Oh- I’m sorry I haven’t gotten much sleep, but I can keep working! Please don’t worry”. You assure.

“ I’m not worried, not for myself anyway.” He adds, kicking his feet up on the edge of the desk.

“Come here.” He urges you, forcing you to get off your small little table in the corner to his desk.

He flicks just one finger and you follow, taunting you to his lap.

“Yes- Captain?” You feel your throat get dry as you sit on his thigh, big enough to count as a seat.

“Is there anything…you need from me?” You ask, insinuating a more personal form of assistance.

He hikes his foot up higher on the table, creating a steep slope of his legs that drags you down and forces you into the crook of your lap, hands instinctively hitting his chest for balance.

“This isn’t for me. I think we need to wake you up.”

You felt a small shiver run up your spine when his hands landed on your hips, “How else will you finish all your work?” He adds.

You let out a small sigh as you felt his steel-clad fingers wrapping around your sides as if your ribs were now armored.

He slowly dragged them down your stomach, small points sliding down the sides of your thighs making you arch your back and grind onto his lap, earning a chuckle from him.

With swift motion, he grabs your throat; dropping his mask on the floor and letting it roll off somewhere.

Your body tenses, and you can see the most faint glimpses of his face; still hidden under the darkness of the room.

Deep and rich, he speaks to you, “Take off your clothes.”

Almost as if he’d conditioned your mind, you do so with no complaints.

He even helps, tugging up your shirt with the finger tip of his gauntlets as you pull it off. As your shirt falls to the floor, you stand before him in just your bra and skirt, your heart pounding in your chest. He doesn't waste any time, his hands moving to your back, deftly unhooking your bra with practiced ease. The straps slide down your arms, and your breasts spill free, bouncing lightly as they are finally released. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, exposed and vulnerable.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice dripping with approval. "Now the rest."

You slip your skirt down, letting it pool at your feet, and step out of it.

You stand there, naked and vulnerable, your breath hitching as Capitano's fingers trace the curve of your hips. His touch is firm yet deliberate, each movement sending shivers down your spine. Shadows play across his muscular frame, making him appear even more imposing as he pulls you back onto his lap, each leg now dangling off his sides.

"Spread your legs," he commands, his voice low and gravelly. The steel in his tone leaves no room for disobedience.

You hesitate for a brief moment, but the intensity in his dark blue eyes compels you to comply. You part your thighs, positioning yourself in his lap. The heat between your legs is almost unbearable, a stark contrast to the cool air brushing against your exposed skin. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against your folds, another hand squeezing your breasts between his thumb and forefinger. You gasp, arching into his touch, your body betraying how much you crave his attention.

"Please..." you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he hears you.

He leans forward, his mouth closing around your nipple, suckling hard enough to make you cry out.

His teeth graze the tender flesh, sending waves of pleasure and pain coursing through you.

You grip his shoulders, your nails digging into the tough material of his armor, as he moves to your other breast, repeating the process. Each pull of his lips, each scrape of his teeth, makes you shudder, your body responding eagerly to his rough ministrations.

"Captain..." you moan, your voice breaking as he continues his assault on your senses and his gentle strokes around your inner thigh, purposefully ignoring your sensitive pearl.

He pulls back, leaving you panting and desperate for more. His eyes glint with satisfaction as he watches you struggle to catch your breath. "Turn around," he orders, his voice firm and commanding.

You obey, swinging your leg over and turning your back to him…well, it’s more of him picking up your entire weight and shifting you into position.

As you automatically reach for the edge of the desk to steady yourself, he lifts himself off his seat, stepping close to your body, his presence looming behind you, his heat radiating against your bare skin. You feel his hands on your ass, squeezing the globes roughly, spreading them apart to expose your most intimate parts. Your breath hitches as you anticipate what's coming next.

"Look at you," he growls, his voice thick with desire. "So ready for me." He adds, flicking his arm down to release his hand from the gauntlet, thudding on the floor just as his last piece of equipment.

“Is this what you were thinking about in that little corner of yours?” He teases.

His fingers trail down, skin grazing the crease where your thighs meet your ass, dipping lower until they brush against your wet folds. You gasp, your knees buckling slightly as he slips one finger inside you, probing deeply. You clench around him, your muscles instinctively tightening, drawing him deeper.

"You're so, so wet," he murmurs, his finger sliding in and out of you, slowly building up speed. "Such a good girl."

Your head falls forward, your forehead resting on the cool surface of the desk as you ride out the sensations he's unleashing on your body. His cold finger flicks against your clit, making you jerk and whimper, your hips swaying involuntarily as you try to get more friction. "Beg for it," he demands, removing his finger and resting it on your hips.

"Please... Captain, please," you beg, your voice shaking with need. "I want more... I need you..."

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh. "Not yet," he says, "But soon."

You whine in protest, your body aching for release, but he grabs your hips.

"On your knees," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You drop to your knees, your hands trembling as you reach for his belt, unbuckling it quickly. You undo his pants, pushing them down to reveal his hardened length, already glistening with pre-cum.

You lick your lips, your mouth watering at the sight of him.

"Take me in your mouth," he orders, his hands gripping your hair tightly. "Show me how much you want it."

You obey, wrapping your lips around his throbbing cock, sucking gently as you take him deep into your throat. He groans, his hands tightening in your hair as you bob your head up and down, your tongue swirling around him with each pass. You can feel him twitching in your mouth, his hips thrusting gently to meet your movements.

"Fuck... yes," he mutters, his voice strained with effort. "Suck it like you mean it."

You redouble your efforts, taking him deeper, your throat convulsing around him as you gag slightly.

He tastes amazing, salt and iron, the essence of his power and dominance filling your senses. You hollow your cheeks, sucking hard as you stroke the base of his shaft with your hand, listening to the sounds of his grunts and moans above you.

"That's it," he praises, his fingers digging into your scalp. "Just like that... almost there...you’re working so hard"

His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his breathing heavy and labored. You know he's close, can feel the tension building in him, and you work harder, your jaw aching from the effort.

Suddenly, he lets out a low growl, his fingers yanking your head back as he comes, his hot seed flooding your mouth.

You swallow dutifully, licking him clean as he pulls out of your mouth, his chest heaving with exertion.

He looks down at you, his eyes dark with lust, and smirks. "Up," he commands, his voice still hoarse from his orgasm.

You do as told, standing up and facing him, your legs shaky from being on your knees for so long. He grabs your wrist, yanking you towards the desk, and pushes you onto it, your chest pressing against the cool wood. You gasp, your nipples rubbing against the rough surface, sending jolts of sensation through your body.

He kneels behind you, his hands roaming over your ass, squeezing and caressing the flesh before diving between your legs once more. His fingers find your drenched entrance, slipping inside with ease, pumping in and out with increasing speed.

You moan, your head falling back as his other hand circles your clit, rubbing it furiously.

"That’s it…keep making those sounds," he whispers, "So fucking wet for me. You need more, don’t you?”

You nod, unable to form words, your body consumed by the pleasure he's giving you. His rough hands continue to pleasure you, painting your ass red with just a single slap.

“Answer me.” He says, waiting for your begging voice before pressing his hard length into your ass.

“Yes- please….please Capitano.” You whimper.

You can almost feel the smirk that’s plastered on his face behind you. He lines himself up, his tip teasing your entrance, dipping just enough to coat himself in your slick arousal. You shiver at the contact, your body tensing in anticipation. Then, without warning, he presses forward, his cock sliding partway into your tight channel before pausing.

"Relax," he commands, his voice firm. "Give yourself to me completely."

You try to relax, breathing deeply, but the stretch is overwhelming. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you steady as he begins to push deeper, filling you inch by agonizing inch. You bite your lip to stifle a cry, your muscles clenching around him as he forces his way inside.

"That's it," he whispers, his voice strained. "Take it all, my little slut."

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he's buried deep inside you, his balls pressed against your ass. You gasp, overwhelmed by the sensation, by the fullness, by the sheer dominance of his presence within you. It's almost too much, but somehow, it's exactly what you need.

Capitano doesn't wait for you to adjust. With a low growl, he pulls back until only his tip remains, then thrusts forward again, his hips slamming into yours with bruising force. You cry out, your hands clutching at the desk for support as he claims you over and over again. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making your head spin and your vision blur.

"Fuck, you feel good," he grunts, his voice rough with exertion. "So tight, so perfect."

His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. He fucks into your at a monstrous pace, your body going limp. He picks you up, holding your neck firm from behind.

“Arch your fucking back.” He growls, roughly handling you into position. You can feel the tension building in him, the same tension that's coiling inside you, tightening with every thrust, every caress. You're close, so close, but he's not done with you yet.

He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back, his lips brushing against your ear. "Look at me," he commands, his voice a low rumble.

You obey, turning your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are wild, filled with lust and possession. He looks at you as if you're his world, his everything, and in this moment, you believe it.

"You're mine," he whispers, “Anytime another person- another damn harbinger calls for you- shit” He groans, “…tell them to fuck off. Captain’s order?” his voice thick with emotion. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, I will-!" you breathe, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

His hand slides down to your clit again, his fingers rubbing in fast, desperate circles. The added stimulation pushes you over the edge, and you scream his name as you come undone, your body convulsing around his cock. He follows right behind you, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave, filling you with his warmth.

You’ve never served Capitano with a cold cup of tea again.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[theharddeck]

do you wanna make somethin' of it (Robert "Bob" Floyd x fem!reader)

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: turns out, our favorite WSO has a side hustle, as quinn's favorite cowboy.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: audio porn, a truly unhinged amount of dirty talk, overuse of pet names, bob's raging size kink, overstimulation via vibrators (and otherwise), unprotected PiV sex, an unrealistic number of orgasms, some dumbification, as can be expected.

A/N: this is way late bc i had to make sure the people who reblogged the moodboard were legal, thanks everyone for the patience and support! esp thank you @hangmanssunnies for being so encouraging, @sometimesanalice for being a gem and betaing thank you @laracrofted for coming up with bob's (ahem) inspirational reveal, and thank you everyone else for letting me be feral. there were a couple people who reblogged the moodboard but I couldn't tag them, so for the record, if you ask to be tagged, pls do make sure you're taggable AND ALSO THAT YOU HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO I AM NOT KIDDING. the title is from Jo Dee Messina's 90s country bop, "Do You Wanna Make Something Of It" -- okay enjoy!

You paused, halfway into your flight suit, looking down at your phone. 

It was probably a bad idea to open an audio erotica app forty minutes before you had to be in the debriefing room with the rest of the aviators in your unit. 

But. 

You were ovulating, your vibrator was charged, and you’d just gotten a notification that BullRiderRhett had posted a new audio.

Before you knew it, you were grabbing your headphones and folding your flight suit by the door, leaving your tank top and sports bra on, but shimmying out of your panties. You set an alarm on your phone, connected your headphones and opened the app. 

Quickie During the Rodeo

After my ride, I don’t have much time before they call up the winners…but you look so damn good in that sundress. We have to be quick, though. [M4F] [Short Audio] [Established Relationship] [In Public] [Strong Language] [Moaning] [SFX]

Yeah, you thought to yourself, that’d do. 

You slid into bed, pulling a muting blanket over the lower half of your body as you settled into your bed and clicked play. 

Immediately, the sounds of a rodeo pushed through your headphones. 

You heard the shuffle of hundreds of feet, a rowdy crowd cheering, and distant country music over a speaker. You could almost imagine the dusty air, the smell of fresh hay and sweat, and the clamor of barrel racing in another arena. 

There was a steady clanking of spurs as a pair of boots walked towards you. 

“There y’are,” a low voice said, the perfect combination of fond and gravelly. You heard a shuffle of fabric, and a soft inhale, like the cowboy was wrapping you in his arms. Your eyes fell closed so you could immerse yourself in the fantasy. 

“How’s my girl doin’?” he asked, his voice muffled like he had buried his head in your shoulder.

You never responded verbally to these things; it broke the illusion to speak to an empty room, but you liked that Rhett paused, as if waiting for your answer. 

“Ah, well, I always ride better when I know you’re in the stands, cheerin’ for me,” he said. He had such a fantastic voice, low and soft, with this drawl that was so unpretentious and alluring. His canvas jacket rustled like he was hugging you tighter. 

“Just let me hold you for a sec, yeah?” he asked, as the ambient sounds of the rodeo seeped back in. You found yourself just listening for the sound of Rhett’s breathing over it, a slow and steady rhythm that was deeply centering. 

You heard when his breath caught, followed by a shuffling sound and a choked gasp from the cowboy.  

“Whoa, whoa,” Rhett’s voice was warm with surprise and delight. “Cut that out, darlin’, we can’t, they’re gonna call me back–”

His voice broke off on a low moan that had you biting your lip. 

Why did guys in real life never moan? 

It was such a pretty sound, deep and masculine, and full of desire. It was one of your favorite things about Rhett. Your hand slipped under the blanket, rubbing over your pussy gently, getting yourself used to the pressure. 

“Darlin’,” Rhett’s voice had gotten deeper, like a warning. “Ya can’t tease me like that, ‘s not kind.”

Your hips shifted at that voice, and Rhett laughed, low. 

“Y’just can’t help yourself, can you, sweet girl?”

It was your favorite pet name he used, just the way he said it. You were obsessed with the gravel in his voice, the melodic twang coupled with a gentleness that belied all his ruggedness. It was like he was being quiet to make sure no one overheard him, like his words were for your ears only. 

His spurs clinked as the noise of the rodeo faded, as though he was leading you somewhere away from prying eyes. A second later, there was a gentle, wet sound, like he was kissing you. 

How would he taste, you wondered. Would his lips be soft? Or would they be chapped? Would he be ravenous, turned on from the adrenaline of the ride, or would he be slow, savoring your taste? 

You turned on your vibrator, on a low and warming setting. You traced it lightly over your pussy,  acclimatizing, as Rhett’s voice and the soft vibrations sent a heat under your skin. 

Rhett’s breathing was heavy, like being near you made him breathless.

“Shameless,” Rhett chided, amused and fond. “I know I can’t stop you, but I’m not about to let anyone see ya like this. You’re mine.” 

Your hips canted up into the vibrator, spurred on by the idea of being his. 

“Oh, you like that, huh, sweet girl?” Rhett practically purred, his voice like a caress, “You like being mine?”

Rhett’s words washing over you, and vibrator’s motions met less resistance as you felt yourself growing wet.

“What if I…” he asked, and you heard fabric shuffling, like he was reaching down and under your dress. “Fuck, darlin’, are you wet for me already?” 

You pressed your lips together to trap in a whimper. 

You knew it was formulaic, but that didn’t make you less turned on. In this fantasy, you were Rhett’s girlfriend, you were already wet for him, you were needy enough to risk being caught to have his dick inside of you. 

“Ya sure about this?” Rhett asked, and you could hear the intensity in his voice. Like he needed you too, just as desperately. “Yeah? Yeah, me too…fuck—yeah, feel me through my jeans. Feel how hard I am for you.”

You turned the vibrator up, imagining the rough texture of denim against your pussy. How hard Rhett would be, how good it would feel to rock up against the dirty fabric. Probably not the most hygienic, but he’d be so hot, even through his jeans, impossibly tempting.

“Go on, take me out,” Rhett directed, his voice a low whisper. 

He moaned in your ear as a belt buckle came undone, and your head fell back as you circled the vibrator over your clit. God, he sounded so good, he sounded unraveled. You imagined the weight of him in your hand, and you shifted your hips, wishing you could feel the heat of him. 

“Shit, okay. We hafta be quick,” Rhett panted. “I know, I know, turn around for me, darlin’. Brace yourself against the wall here…Christ, you look so good like this…ya ready for me?” 

You couldn’t help yourself; you slid a hand down your body, changing the angle of the vibrator so you could run a finger through your folds. 

Rhett held his breath, like it was too good, too much, and you waited.

Then came his strangled, relieved exhale, and you pushed a finger into yourself as you imagined him sliding into you. 

“That’s right, sweet girl,” Rhett praised, his voice breathless, awed. “Let me into that tight pussy, nice and easy...”

Your mouth fell open as you imagined him filling you. 

Would he be thick? Long? Maybe a slight curve to his cock? Cut or uncut? You licked your lips, your mind spinning with possibilities, your fingers a paltry imitation of the thing you wanted so badly. 

“Ah, that’s it, that’s it,” Rhett murmured, and you couldn’t help but add another finger. “Such a good girl, for me, aren’t ya?”

You wanted to be his good girl. 

Rhett was breathing hard, and the rhythm of it was perfect. You circled around your clit with the vibrator, and you were panting now too, your hips canting up as you fucked yourself on your fingers. You could imagine him driving into you, his hips thrusting his cock into you. It would be thick, you decided, broad and heavy. 

“Ah, you’re taking me so well,” Rhett grunted. “You were made to take this fat cock, weren’t you?” 

His breaths were coming faster, and you could hear him slamming his hips into yours. You could imagine his balls swinging, could imagine him driving into you to reach that spot your fingers just couldn’t brush against. 

“This pussy feels so good, darlin’,” Rhett whispered, “the way you’re clenchin’ around me…”

Your thighs fell farther apart as you tried to time your fingers’ thrusts to his cadence. He was grunting after each thrust, this beautiful soft sound of exertion and pleasure.

A faint cheer rose above the sounds of your panting; another event had concluded. 

“Shit, we hafta hurry, they’re gonna–” Rhett broke off, his hips snapping faster. “C’mere, let me play with that clit, let me feel you–fuck yeah, clench around me, just like that.” 

You turned the vibrator up, your fingers faltering inside of you at the increased vibration and his words. Rhett’s grunts were getting higher pitched, a delicate thread of need seeping into them and you were going to lose your mind; it was perfect. 

“Ah, such a good girl,” Rhett groaned. “God, I don’t deserve you, ya feel so good…are you close, darlin? Tell me you’re close, I need to feel you cumming on my cock, will ya do that for me?”

You were bucking into your hand, chasing a release that had come on so fast, so strong and you were so damn close, you just needed–

“There ya go,” Rhett breathed, his voice tight. “You feel–oh, sweet girl, don’t stop clenching me like that. Oh, you’re gonna make me cum with that tight pussy, fuck, are you gonna come with me, darlin’? Please come with me, please…”

You pumped your fingers in time with his pleas, Rhett’s voice growing hoarse as his hips sped up. You were so close, he sounded so good, you were almost there. 

“Feels so good…Ah, I’m coming, I’m there– ah, shit,” Rhett moaned, his voice choking, and you orgasmed along with him, collapsing back into the pillow. 

Your legs shook and you jerked the vibrator away from your sensitive clit, stroking gently over your pussy with your other hand and easing yourself down.Your body felt like it was humming and you turned the vibrator off, sated and pleasure drunk.  

Something about Rhett always had you timing it perfectly, feeling so in sync and so primed, and when he came, it was like your permission to. 

Rhett was groaning softly in your ear. 

“So beautiful, darlin’,” he whispered. “God, I’m so lucky, look at you…so damn beautiful…”

The audio would fade out in another few minutes and you fumbled for your phone to turn it off, and turn off the just-in-case alarm that you’d set. 

There was a bittersweet moment with audio erotica that didn’t exist in traditional porn– aftercare. Instead of just ending a scene, most creators seemed to enjoy winding down with their listeners, saying soft things, silly things, fond things. It straddled the line between soothing and demoralizing, and you couldn’t say you loved the contrast between the care in Rhett’s voice and the emptiness around you. 

An emptiness that was interrupted by a loud pounding on your door. 

“Hey, I can see your light under the door,” Bradley called from the hallway, “you better not still be asleep! If we’re late to Mav’s briefing you know he’s gonna have us doing laps around the tarmac.”

You stuck your tongue out at the ceiling on principle, grateful for the quiet of your vibrator and the distance between the door and your bed.

“Calm your tits, Rooster,” you yelled back, “I’m practically ready.”

“Damn better be,” you heard Bradley say, loud enough to be heard, soft enough to know he wasn’t actually pressed.

You gave yourself another ten seconds to revel in that perfect orgasm, and then swung your legs over the side of the bed. You cleaned yourself off quickly, dressed even quicker, and were out the door in no time. 

Some might even say, with a pep in your step. 

“Told you,” you muttered as you walked by Bradley’s row in the debriefing room, on time, and he huffed. 

You settled into your normal seat, waving good morning to Callie and lifting your chin at Mickey, who grinned back at you. Bob was in the seat next to yours, as you’d all agreed early on that WSOs had to stick together, and you bumped his shoulder with yours as you sat. 

The sweet man smiled, a hidden thing, and looked away quickly. 

Sometimes, you felt like you knew there was more to him than he let on. 

You’d seen him in action, seen him make split-second decisions that kept him and Phoenix in the air. You’d seen him crank out 200 pushups with Jake and Javy like it was nothing. But at the same time, he never seemed to hold your eye for longer than strictly necessary, seeming more comfortable to address the floor (unless someone pushed too hard, and he’d snap something so sassy it’d make you bite the inside of your mouth to keep from laughing). 

When you’d first met him, you’d thought he was cute, in an Old Hollywood leading man kind of way, soft muscles and deep eyes.

You’d wondered if maybe you made him nervous. You’d thought maybe there was interest in those ocean blue eyes, but time went on, and he remained sweet and polite and kind. He was the same to you as he was with everyone else, and you were led to the reality that he was just an incredibly decent person. 

Crushes came and went like water, especially in a group as gorgeous as the one you flew with, so you let him have his secrets. 

The lights clicked off as Maverick strode to the front of the room, already talking and clicking his way through some kind of demonstration. 

The hours in the room flew by.

By the time he finished, your head was spinning with a blur of parameters and calculations and mission expectations. You knew pilots felt the same way about your job as you did about theirs, but you were always grateful that at the end of briefings you only had to worry about systems and odds, not about flying a plane. As you were dismissed, everyone crowded to the center aisle, trying to get out and to the hangar as quickly as possible. Someone sneezed, or someone pushed someone; Harvard dropped his coffee.

It wasn’t full, and you were all in flight suits anyways, but you still startled when it fell, splashing over the row you were sitting in. Black coffee flew over seats and notebooks (thankfully no phones), and someone laughed as Harvard’s attempts to catch it just served to further empty the cup. Bob took the worst of it, on the end of your row.

"Ah, shit," Bob muttered, and you froze. 

It wasn't that Harvard's spilled coffee had ruined Bob's notes, and yours too. 

It wasn't that everyone in the briefing room was looking back at your row in surprise. 

It wasn't even that Bob had sworn, even though you'd never heard anything harsher than "gosh" from the WSO's lips. 

It was that that cuss, in that voice, in that same mumbled tone, had pushed you to orgasm four hours ago. 

“Alright, it’s just coffee,” Maverick called over the clamor. “We’re burning daylight, people, come on.” 

Harvard was apologizing profusely, someone was passing paper towels out, but you felt completely out of your body, in shock. 

Bob was BullRiderRhett.

The WSO who asked for ginger ale when everyone else did shots at the Hard Deck, who cleaned his glasses when he got nervous, who stayed up all night to help Payback’s kid put together a Lego Statue of Liberty last time he was in town …was the guy who had talked you through the last few months of orgasms. 

(Yes, you had an annual subscription).

(Yes, you deserved it). 

When you let yourself back into your room at the end of the night, it still felt surreal. 

In retrospect, you should’ve been a million times more dialed in– you’d had a $73 million machine under your hands, and the only thing on your mind all day had been this revelation.

How had you never noticed before?? 

Now that you were thinking of it, Bob did have that slight accent when he was tired, or when he was mad enough at something stupid Jake said…but what were you even supposed to do with this knowledge?

You moved through your skincare much the same way you’d moved through most of the day – on autopilot. 

A knock on your door startled you. 

“Now’s not the time, Bradshaw,” you called, automatically. 

“Uh,” called a too-familiar voice, “not Bradshaw.”

You winced at your reflection in the mirror, trying desperately to decide if you recognized Bob’s voice from countless drills or from your Favorites list. You crossed your arms across your chest, your sweatshirt dragging against the hem of your pajama shorts as you slouched over to the door. 

“Robert,” you announced, as you opened it, mentally smacking your palm against your forehead. You had literally never called him Robert; what was wrong with you??

Could’ve been worse, you mused. 

You could’ve said ‘Rhett’.

“Hey,” he said, and if he was thrown by the use of his full name, he didn’t show it. 

He looked the same. 

The same, but in the way that had made you catch your breath when you first met him, when you were relieved that he was so unassuming and kind, because if he’d been any kind of authoritative, it would’ve debilitated you. 

Tonight, he’d clearly showered after drills. 

His hair was freshly combed and still damp, darker than normal. A tendril fell in front of his glasses, leaving a small line of fog against the outer corner of one of the lenses. He was in a plain white tshirt and light sweatpants, and you made yourself stop from looking further because you were not about to objectify your friend just because you now knew that he could dirty talk with the best of them. 

And now you were thinking about that.

“Are you mad at me?” Bob asked, and it snapped you out of your spiral. 

He was frowning at the sill, his hands shoved in his pockets, and his chest tight. There was a purse in between his eyebrows, and you really could not understand him, because how could a man who was objectively gorgeous, subjectively sweet, be this adorable? He looked up and the moment your eyes met, you looked away. 

“No,” you said quickly, clearing your throat. “Of course not. Obviously.”

“I mean, not obviously,” Bob said, rubbing a sneaker against the carpet in the hallway. “You practically sprinted out of the briefing this morning, refused to speak to me over comms during drills, and you won’t look at me for more than two seconds, and that’s normally someone else’s line to me.”

It was a weak joke, but it was funny, and you could hear in his voice that he was trying to set you at ease, and that really only made you feel worse. 

So you stepped aside and held open the door, not really trusting yourself to say anything else. Bob looked nervous, and you wanted to tell him it was you, not him, but instead you waited in silence as he stepped into the room. 

You only had the light over the sink on, and the room was in soft shadows, but you thought it might be more weird if you turned on a light, like you were calling attention to it. You shut the door and Navy rooms didn’t really come with guest furniture, so you gestured to the foot of your bed, while you paced. 

“This is going to be awkward,” you warned him, glancing in his direction, and wishing you hadn’t. 

He was sitting on the foot of your bed, as directed, legs spread slightly and his elbows resting on his knees. You could see the muscles of his shoulders through the tshirt, and his eyes seemed especially bright, in the dim light from the room. 

“Okay,” Bob said easily, and you appreciated that he wasn’t rushing you. Maybe he was starting to understand that this was something you were working through, rather than something he had done.

You switched directions, walking the length of the room, and then the length again. 

You had to say it.

You’d just have to say it, and that would explain it, and then it would be out, and then you could figure out how to move forward. Bob was a problem solver, like you, and you were both smart enough to figure this out. You were also both adults. You could just say it. 

You stopped in front of him, and Bob sat up a little straighter, like he wanted to be sure he was being respectful to the weight of whatever you were saying. God, he was such a good person, why did you have to be such a creep. 

“Iknowaboutbullriderrhett,” you said in a rush, clasping your hands in front of you. The words seemed to echo around the room and you stared at Bob, waiting for him to react. 

He didn’t, not really.

He nodded, slowly, and you watched him process the day through the lens of your revelation. 

“So, you’re disappointed it’s me,” he said, like he was clarifying, and you shook your head.

“What?” you asked, confused, and Bob shrugged.

“Like if you were expecting a ranch hand from Wyoming, I get it, it’s weird that it’s just me.”

You blinked. “That…that’s beside the point; I feel guilty, like this is a weird invasion of privacy, and isn’t that what you should be asking, anyways, is if I’m going to tell anybody? I won’t, but–”

Bob shook his head, his expression still pretty guarded. “Whose opinion do you think matters to me more than yours?”

And how the hell were you supposed to respond to that?

“What?” you managed again. 

Bob looked at you.

It was maybe the longest uninterrupted eye contact you’d ever had, and you weren’t sure if it was because he initiated it, or if something was different. But it made you curious, it made you stop rambling, it made you be still, and let Bob look, because you liked how he was looking at you. 

He smiled, that familiar, bashful, expression, and it calmed you slightly. 

It wasn’t like there was a demon possessing your friend, it wasn’t a dark secret, it was just a part of him that he didn’t bring out at work. His smile reminded you that you knew him, that you trusted him. 

Then his head fell to the side, his eyebrows lowering behind his glasses, his expression turning inquisitive as he said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

It was still Bob. 

But his voice was lower, his voice was softer and you knew that voice, but seeing it fall from petal pink lips was a revelation and you shivered. You pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt down over your palms, hoping you could disguise it, but Bob saw it anyway. 

Of course he did. 

He could calculate projectile trajectories while at supersonic speed; of course he could see when his voice made you shiver. The expression on his face turned smug, and that was new, that was nothing you’d seen before and you were pretty much infatuated with it immediately. 

Objectively, Bob was the best. 

You knew it, everyone knew it. This was maybe the first time you’d seen him look like he knew it, and something like pride blossomed in your chest at the thought that it was because of you. 

“I’m not disappointed,” you said honestly, and Bob smiled fully.

That was how he should always be, you decided, proud of himself, pleased by you. 

He pushed himself off the bed. 

He walked towards you slowly, slow enough that you could tell he was giving you time to back away, or tell him to stop, but you sure as shit weren’t going to do either. 

Instead, your head tilted back as he came to stop in front of you.

“We have two options,” he said, almost conversationally, like you weren’t this close to melting into a puddle at seeing this side of him. “One: I go back to my room; we’ve learned something new today, but we go on like normal. Or–”

“Or,” you chose, not waiting to hear what the second option was. “Whatever ‘or’ is, that’s the one I want.”

It truly didn’t matter; if the choice was him walking out the door or not, you wanted whatever made him stay. 

He huffed an exhale of a laugh, a soft sound that you’d heard a dozen times but it still made your breath catch. You’d grinned fondly when you heard it over comms, after Callie calmly roasted Jake, you’d shivered when you heard it in your headphones, but now that Bob was physically in front of you, you thought this was the best iteration of it. 

“What do you like?” he asked softly, and it felt like a loaded question. 

Like maybe he was asking which audios, or maybe the themes, or if him, in front of you, was enough. The room felt suspended, like someone had paused the film of your life and you could see everything outside of yourself. The heat in Bob’s eyes, the way his fingers, held loose at his side, twitched slightly, like he wanted to reach for you. The way your own breath caught, like you were careful not to break a spell, like you wanted it to never break. 

You kissed him. 

You probably could’ve been more graceful about it, but he was standing just there, and you needed to know, needed to feel him against you. You reached for his arms, your hands grasping above his elbows to pull him down and press yourself closer. 

He was so soft. 

The moment your lips brushed over him, you felt him bending, moving. His glasses bumped into your nose as he adjusted and then his hands were on your waist, spreading over your back and how had you never noticed how big his hands were? They felt huge, and his chest was strong and warm as he pulled you into him. 

You could smell his shampoo, something earthy and sweet, and it was intoxicating how pure it was. He didn’t feel pure. He felt hot, kissing you back with an urgency that stole your breath away. Bob kissed you with certainty, with earnestness, and you were obsessed.

You pulled back, staying in the cradle of his arms, needing to be this close when you answered the question he’d asked. Long lashes fluttered against the tops of his cheeks as you broke the kiss, and Bob pulled in a long breath through his nose. When he opened his eyes, the blue of them was so bright, cutting. You didn’t know how he held it all, his sharpness and softness, gentleness and intention. 

“Can I show you?” you asked. 

He blinked, the motion slow, as he looked between your eyes, trying to focus with you so close. You saw the corner of his mouth turn up in that bashful smile, and his arms around you tightened slightly.

“Show me,” he said, your question but now a command, and your mouth went dry. 

His voice sent a flush of heat over your skin, and whatever he wanted, you’d say yes, for this man who was your friend and your fantasy, and asking you so nicely. 

It amazed you how you didn’t feel nervous. 

This was arguably the most intimate situation you’d found yourself in in a hot minute, but instead of nerves or anxiety, you could only think of how much you wanted Bob to see how much he affected you. From that first moment you’d met him, to the crush you’d packed away, to the voice that haunted your dreams, you wanted him. And you wanted to see how that would affect him. 

You walked over to the sink, grabbing the vibrator from where you’d left it after you cleaned it this morning. Bob walked back over to the bed, taking up his original post at the foot of it, but his eyes never left you. He toed off his sneakers, and you slipped out of your pajama shorts, leaning over to arranging pillows against the headboard. 

You climbed into the bed and rested your back against the pillows, nudging Bob’s thigh with your toes before you bent your knees. He turned himself to face you, his long legs unfolding outside of yours. It was like he was being careful not to touch you, and you liked that this was how it was going to start– just his voice and your pleasure. You hoped once he saw what a tight string was tied between the two, maybe he’d get a little more involved. A part of you wished that you’d deepened the kiss earlier, but it was just as well to have the anticipation of it.  

It was ridiculous that you were already turned on. 

You’d had eight hours to come to terms with the fact that Bob was Rhett, but as he sat across from you, it was like his gaze was scorching you. His bright eyes ran over you hungrily, and you rolled your neck, enjoying being the object of his gaze. 

You’d been bold when you suggested it, but now the silence of the room seemed to stretch. You wondered if you should ask Bob to talk, or if that would be weird. Bob looked at you, his damp hair falling in front of his glasses again, and he brushed it aside absently. 

“Is this where you lay, when you listen to me?” he asked, his eyes tracing over the simple bed, the regulation bedding, the pillows you’d brought in to spruce it up. His voice was low, curious, and now that you were listening for it, you could hear the traces of a drawl, hanging on the edges of it.

You nodded, unable to look away from him, and his nose flared slightly at the confirmation.

“You’re so pretty,” he said, and it washed over you. It was such a simple compliment, but the truth of how he said it, like every fiber of his being meant it, warmed you. 

“God, thinking about you…” he trailed off, “just lying here, looking like this…getting off to my voice…do you touch yourself first? Pet that pussy before you use your toy?”

Your mouth actually fell open hearing Bob Floyd say ‘pussy’ so casually. 

And he said it sitting in your bed, his eyes on you, his voice dropping into a deep drawl and yeah, you were going to do whatever he asked. 

You shifted slightly, a hand falling between your thighs to press over your clothed cunt. You cupped yourself, loving the way Bob’s eyes followed your hand with rapt attention. The kiss, his words, his eyes…you weren’t wet yet, but you could feel your body warming, turning towards Bob. 

“Love that you take your time with your pussy, warm her up, slow. ‘s not a thing you have to rush, not when the building feels so good. And I bet you feel so good, don’t you, so soft and warm…”

It didn’t feel slow, not with how hot Bob’s voice was. How good it felt to have him in the room with you, not just an empty echoing in your ears but physically here. You continued to tease yourself over your panties and you felt when they grew damp, when your arousal slowed your fingers, made the fabric slick.

“Fuck,” Bob breathed, and you whimpered. 

The sound was involuntary, a reaction to seeing sweet, wholesome, Bob swearing over the sight of you. It made you feel regal, and if you had to guess, pulling sounds out of you made him feel the same. At the sound of your whimper, Bob’s eyes dropped to your mouth, and you watched the tip of his tongue push through his lips, as he wet them. 

“Ah, you sound so good, too, I can’t believe–” he broke off, laughing quietly. “Can’t believe I’m jealous of my own damn self. How many times have I made you cum, and I’ve never gotten to see it?”

It was your turn to laugh, not quite willing to reveal how much you listened to BullRiderRhett. 

“That many, huh?” Bob’s voice was smug, and it was such a good sound on him. You ground your wrist over your clit, pressing into the hard bone, craving the friction.

“Take your panties off,” he said, “touch yourself, not the vibrator yet.”

You followed his instruction, pulling up your legs to peel off your panties and resettling. You extended a leg down the bed, pressing inside of Bob’s long leg, as you trailed your hand between your thighs. At the first brush of skin against your sensitive folds, your head tipped back against the headboard. 

It was just your hand, but with Bob here, it felt like it was almost his. It was his bidding at least, and you explored yourself leisurely, dragging your fingers through your wetness.

“Yeah, that’s right, bet you feel so good,” Bob said, his voice so low. “Feel yourself, sweet girl, tell me how it feels.”

You gasped, your hips rising in a pavlovian response to the endearment. It was somehow even more overwhelming when it was Bob who spoke it over you, here, in the flesh. When he could see that your skin prickled, that your breath caught, in response to him. 

“Say it again,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand, and when you looked back at him, the expression on his face was one of adoration and hunger, awe and need. 

“Sweet girl?” he asked gently, but his eyes were so dark. “You like being that for me, don’t you? My sweet, sweet girl.”

You nodded weakly, your fingers suddenly not enough. You rubbed over your clit, trying to stop the truth from spilling out of you as heat fanned out through your body from your touch. 

“Yours,” you corrected weakly, and you scrambled for the vibrator and switched it on, using the intense humming of the toy as an excuse to hide from Bob’s reaction to your admission. 

You felt one of his hands wrap around your ankle, and his long thumb stroked from your heel up to the joint. It was the perfect touch, and just grounding enough to keep you from being overwhelmed by the vibrations. 

“You sound so pretty,” Bob murmured, “those little whimpers you make, fuck.”

Were you whimpering?

You felt like you noticed everything a bit too late, too loud. You realized you were pulling the vibrator over your cunt in a mimicry of the strumming motion Bob’s thumb was tracing on your ankle, and your hips canted up. Pleasure swirled in you, hot and tingling, but you felt something missing. 

“Bob,” you panted, god, how were you already panting, “I need–”

You turned the toy higher and broke off, writhing. 

“Darlin’, love you saying my name like this,” Bob drawled, and it was a proper drawl now, and how he said darlin’ made you feel like you might combust. “Can’t believe I get to see you like this, you look so good…knowing this isn’t your first time working yourself to my voice, makes me so damn jealous.”

You whined, pressing the vibrator more firmly against your skin, your hips starting to grind into it. 

“Tell me,” you asked, your voice reedy, and Bob huffed a laugh, like you didn’t even have to ask. He ran a hand over his thigh, coming to rest at the seat of his sweatpants and you bit your lip as he adjusted himself through the thin fabric. 

“So damn jealous,” he repeated, “thinking how many orgasms I’ve missed. How many times you came when I asked, how those thighs would tremble as you fucked yourself thinking of taking me…fuck, honey, you’ve heard me cum, and I’ve never–”

A moan pushed its way past your lips, as you realized that the groans and grunts and needy noises that you got off to weren’t incorporeal: they belonged to Bob. 

You looked down at the foot of the bed where Bob was watching you greedily. His eyes roamed over your spread legs, the twitches in your thighs, the slackness in your jaw, and you looked at him too. His pale skin was flushed, color in pink splotches high on his cheeks, and his lips were parted. His chest rose and fell as he drew in deep breaths, and when he shifted slightly, you moaned again. 

“Can you touch yourself?” you asked, almost shy, wanting to see him. You felt good, so insanely good, but the thing you’d always loved about the Rhett audios was how much pleasure it sounded like he was getting too. There was something so hot about knowing you were the root of someone else’s desire and pleasure, and you wanted so badly to be that for Bob. 

“You’re gonna have to wait just a little longer, sweet girl,” Bob said, but he ran a hand over the thigh of his sweatpants, adjusting himself again, and your hips bucked up of their own volition. You guessed he was wearing underwear under his sweatpants because you couldn’t see an outline, but the idea of his dick hanging that far down his thigh had your mouth watering. 

“Wanna see you,” you protested, hearing a sound like a pout in your voice and Bob’s hand on your ankle tightened. He looked at you hard, and you knew he was gambling, trying to decide if he wanted to play a card.

“I know, sweet girl,” he said, licking his lips, “but you have to earn my cock.”

Your eyes rolled back and your core clenched at those words. How many times had you heard Rhett tease you with that? But it was different now, because Bob was here. Because he was real, and his cock was real, and however many times you’d wondered about Rhett, your curiosity could be sated in Bob. 

When you lifted your head to look back at Bob, he was slackjawed, watching you writhe. You were practically humping the toy, chasing an orgasm that suddenly felt so much closer. The vibrator felt stronger than normal, or maybe you were more sensitive, but you felt your climax building, and your thighs started shaking. 

“I wanna see you,” you repeated, and it sounded pathetic, but it was true, you did. In a moment, this had switched from getting off in front of your friend to needing your friend’s dick, and you didn’t know how Bob knew it but he did. 

He readjusted his grip on your ankle and before you could react he pulled. 

You slid down the bed, your thighs parting around where he now kneeled; he braced himself over you, and you whined, needing his touch. He kissed you, his mouth wide and plundering, slanting his lips over yours. You moaned into his kiss, so different from the soft gentleness of your first embrace. This was Bob kissing you, and his tongue delved into your mouth and you opened for him. 

“I’m too greedy for that, sweet girl,” he whispered, his lips against yours. “I know if I get between these thighs I’m going to lose myself, and I want to see how much you want it. I wanna be here, fully here, the first time I get to see you cum.” 

He reached down, and you felt his hand trace over yours. You’d nearly dropped the vibrator when he pulled you down the bed, but now Bob tightened your grip, and guided it back to your cunt. You keened as the vibrator pushed between your folds, and Bob followed your lead, wanting to see how you fucked yourself for him. 

It was better with him. 

His strong hand bracketing yours, his other at the back of your neck, holding you steady. His hand was on yours but he brought his face close to yours again, and you drank in the reality that he was here, this close, holding you. His breath was hot against your skin, and his glasses were fogging up from how hard you were breathing. 

“So are you gonna let me see it, darlin’?” he asked against your skin, and that voice, coupled with his touch, nearly had you there. “You gonna come for me, let me see what it looks like when my sweet girl gets off with just my voice and the toy we’re using on her? You’re almost there, honey, I can see it, come for me come on now–”

He sounded so good. 

His voice was perfect and soothing and it felt like a dream but it wasn’t, it was real. He was holding you, feeling you, breathing the same air and working you. You’d never been so aware of your body and how it was tuned towards someone else. You cried out his name as you came, your back arching and your free hand fisting in Bob’s tshirt, reminding yourself he was there, he was there, he was there. 

You felt like you were floating. 

Pleasure coursed through your body and you could feel it pulsing in your fingertips, beating in your heart. You became slowly aware of the room around you. The air felt cold against your sweat-dampened skin, the hum of the refrigerator was the only noise other than your hard breathing. Bob was still over you, and he’d pulled the vibrator away from you, switching it off without really looking, running a soothing hand over your hip. The hand at the back of your neck was firm, holding you tightly so you could feel him. 

“How’re ya doing, sweet girl?” he asked softly, and you felt him press a kiss to your cheek. “Did that feel good?“

You hummed in agreement, words still beyond you. His voice was so gentle, but had a raspy edge, like he was thinking over the last several minutes, holding them in his mind.

“You did such a good job for me,” he murmured, and you turned into his touch.

He was like sunshine, wasn’t he? 

Just warm, and good, and you wanted to bask in him and his light like a dryad. His eyes darted away once he realized you were looking at him, and it made your heart skip a beat, that he could somehow be shy after coaxing you through one of the hottest orgasms of your life. 

You were trying to think of how to say “your turn” in a way that wasn’t corny or cringey, but what you came up with was, “Can we keep going?”

Bob’s eyes snapped back to yours, and the world seemed to pause for a moment, hovering. Waiting, hoping, and Bob’s chin dipped, just slightly, and all was right. 

“Baby,” he said, in the low, perfect, voice, “I’d like nothing more.”

When he kissed you, you were both smiling, somewhat giddy, and any nerves that had gathered during that pause dissipated, as you kissed his smile-thinned lips. 

You shifted slightly, pushing yourself back up the bed and pulling Bob with you. 

He moved easily, his long body spanning over yours, pressing you back into the mattress with the most delicious pressure. His hands were wandering, then, delicate fingers tracing over your sweatshirt, and when he lingered at the hem of it, you pushed him off. You didn’t want to be patient, didn’t want his chivalry, and so you pulled your sweatshirt over your head before you had time to second guess yourself. 

The way Bob looked at you, you wished you’d done it sooner. 

His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as he stared at your chest and you pushed yourself off the bed by your shoulders, so you could reach behind you and undo your bra. The moment the garment fell off, Bob’s hands were on you, his wide palms cupping your breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut at his touch, humming in the back of your throat as his fingers explored you. You felt the bed shift as he moved, and you gasped when a warm breath ghosted over your bared skin. 

Bob kissed down from your sternum, wet kisses over you, and by the time he reached your nipples, he was practically lapping at your skin. You whimpered as his mouth closed over your nipples, his tongue swirling over you as his hand teased your other breast. When he hummed, you felt it all over, the soft vibration over your skin. 

“Bob,” you gasped, and he moaned. 

“Ya sound so pretty,” he whispered into your skin, “somehow better than I imagined.” 

Your breath caught as his mouth moved to the valley between your breasts, and he laved the same attention to the other. He couldn’t have meant that how it sounded. As incomprehensible that this was happening, it was wilder still to think that he had imagined this, as you had. 

“You thought of me?” you asked, your own voice sounding nearly breathless. 

“Honey,” teeth grazed over your nipple, and Bob chuckled, that beautiful low laugh. “Who do you think I’m talkin’ to when I make those audios?”

His lips closed over you again, but the swirling of his tongue wasn’t enough to distract from the words he’d just uttered. 

He wasn’t done, either. 

“Y’know how many nights I’d wondered about the taste of your skin,” he murmured into it, “or what your tits would feel like in my hands? What sounds you’d make when I kissed you, how soft you’d be, everywhere? If you’d cry, or moan, or laugh when you came, or how you’d say my name…” 

Your hand wound back into his hair and you pulled him back up to your mouth. This kiss was desperate, so much unsaid between the both of you. So much longing, so much wondering and now it was here. You couldn’t explore each other fast enough, and you were clawing at his clothing, trying to feel as much of his skin as possible. Bob was just as eager as you were, pulling off of you to shuck off his tshirt and sweatpants, and you reached for his glasses. 

He blinked at you slowly as you pulled them off of him.

This sweet man. 

He was so focused on you, his eyes so intent even as he struggled to focus, and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. You leaned over to place them carefully on your nightstand, and when you came back to the bed, Bob’s arms settled around you in the most comforting embrace. 

You loved the feeling of his skin. 

He was so soft, pale skin covering deceptively strong muscles, and you were obsessed with the dichotomy. Your hands greedily traversed over his broad shoulders, thick biceps, taut stomach, and when you got to the hem of his boxers, you felt his breath catch as he shifted over you. 

Fuck. 

You’d thought it might’ve been a trick of the light, or a trick of sweatpants, some kind of trick, but under your hand, Bob felt hung. Your fingers rubbed over the bulge in his boxers, and Bob’s head dropped to your shoulders. 

“We don’t have to–” he started, and broke off when your touch reached the end of him. You were just tracing the shape of him, but your breath caught when you felt his fat head, the cleft at his tip, even through the thin fabric. 

“We do,” you said, swallowing quickly, not even trying to hide the way your thoughts were racing, “I really hope you have a condom, Floyd, because we really, really have to.”

He huffed, and then he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pushing himself off you and reaching down to feel around the ground for his sweatpants. You loved that he had a condom on him – not because it meant that he was expecting this, but because it just confirmed for you that Bob was the type to look at birth control as shared responsibility, not just a matter of whether a gal took the pill or felt like risking going without. He fumbled for a moment, and you couldn’t help yourself. 

While he was distracted (admittedly, this was probably a task you could have thought of while he still had his glasses on) you leaned over and traced your tongue over his collarbone. He smelled so good, and you could just taste the salt of his sweat. Bob’s breath grew ragged, and you loved the sound of it, kissing up his neck and finding that tempting spot where you could feel his pulse. You loved how frantic it was, loved the steadiness of him. 

He found the condom.

You shifted back to your elbow, watching with blatant interest as he shoved his boxers down his thighs, tore the wrapper open and rolled the condom onto his dick. 

Holy. Shit. 

He looked like a work of art. 

A beautiful flush had worked its way across his chest and throat, the tendons on his arms and hands stood out in stark contrast, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his cock. He really was that big. 

“What is it?” he asked quietly, and your eyes darted back up to his face to find his brows furrowing slightly, since he couldn’t read your silence or your expression.

You pushed yourself up to kneeling on the edge of the bed, Bob still standing beside it, and reached for him. He stepped into your embrace easily, mollified by the shared warmth between your bodies, as you reassured him with soft kisses wherever you could reach.

“I thought it was a line,” you admitted, somewhat embarrassed at how wantonly you’d just been staring at him. “Just a cliche ‘oh, you want to choke on this big dick’, but…but you’re actually, you know…”

Bob smiled, somehow bashful, as you pitched your voice lower in an approximation of Rhett’s drawl. 

“Is that an offer?” he asked, and oh you liked this side of him– teasing, relaxed, a little cocky. 

And the thought of choking on him…it was a really great fantasy. He’d hurt your jaw something fierce, but you wanted to see if you could draw those breathy whimpers out of him. Figure out what your tongue could do to him, see how much he could take, push him a little further, and make him cum down your throat. 

“Honestly,” you said, and yeah, your throat was dry just from the thought of it, “I really want to try that, sometime.”

At your tone or your words, you couldn’t be sure, Bob’s hips pushed forward slightly. With the height difference of you kneeling and him standing, his cock brushed against your ribs. You were both suddenly so aware of him, his thick cock resting between you, and Bob’s hips pushed forward again. 

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, and his hips slid back, slowly. His hands were on your waist, holding you still as he ground against you. Your mouth fell open at the heavy motion, the promise of it, and the duration of it. 

“You’re so big,” you whispered, another truth that should’ve sounded like a cliche, but instead was just a fact. 

“You’ll fit me,” Bob said, with such confidence and certainty that suddenly you didn’t care if it was in your mouth or between your legs, you needed him in you. 

“Please,” you asked, and Bob groaned, actually groaned, like you asking was the best thing he’d ever heard. His hands were so tight on your waist, like he needed that control and you knew how you wanted him. 

You leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips, and then turned back to the bed, your hand sliding up towards the headboard, your ass lifting like an invitation. Bob wasted no time, climbing back over the bed and shifting you so you were lengthwise on the bed again, and then draping his long body over yours. Your head rolled between your shoulders; he felt so good. Warm and strong, and all around you, and then you felt his big hand between your thighs. He opened your thighs gently, and then a thick finger traced between them. 

“So wet,” he murmured, so close to your ear, and you shivered. “You’re gonna feel so good around me, aren’t you?”

You nodded, words failing you in your anticipation. But Bob wasn’t in a rush. His calloused finger teased through your folds, smearing the remnants of your orgasm up over your clit, playing with your cunt, until you were shaking. 

You whimpered, your arms trembling as you braced yourself on the bed. You pushed your hips back into his touch, and you felt Bob’s breath shutter from his chest pressed to your back, but he didn’t move any faster. 

“Don’t rush me, honey,” Bob said, his voice low, and you tried to hold still, you did, but his teasing was too much. 

He alternated between spreading your folds, circling your clit, dipping his finger into you just enough to tease you, then pulling back entirely. You felt like you were aching, desperate for him, needing him. Bob spread you open with one hand, and you felt his thick head at your entrance, seeking. You saw the hand that wasn’t playing with your clit drop down to the bed beside yours as he braced himself, and you pushed your hips back, weakly. 

“Ask me nicely, sweet girl,” he said, his voice so low, and you swear you nearly came on the spot. 

“Please,” you managed, your voice sounding entirely too weak, “please, please, I need to feel you–”

You broke off when he pushed into you. 

A steady, overwhelming pressure as that beautiful, enormous cock pushed into you. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets as he stretched you out, the gentle, even pressure nearly blinding. He was so thick, you felt like you could feel his heartbeat, like you’d been lit on fire, and the only thing you knew you needed was more, more. 

Your head dropped to the sheets, even as your hips worked weakly back into his, welcoming him despite the burn. 

Bob’s hand covered yours, his thick fingers tangling with yours on the bedsheets, and you felt cherished, you felt wrecked, you felt perfect. 

Fuck, he felt so good. 

You were full to the point of overwhelmed, and you realized he’d stopped pushing, was fully seated inside you. You felt so connected, so whole, even though you were heaving like you’d run a marathon. 

Bob‘s nose traced your cheek, his soft lips kissed your jaw as his breath tickled your ear. “Does that feel good, darlin?” he asked. 

You nodded, wordless, it felt like a dream come true. You felt every inch of him in you, every inch of him over you, and it was perfect.  

“So,” Bob whispered, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, “what do you say?”

“Thank you,” you moaned, you’d never been so grateful for anything in your life. “Feels so good, fuck, thank you–”

Bob groaned, and his hips pulled back before he slammed back into you. His thrust would’ve pushed you up the bed, except for his body over yours, holding you steady.  

“Sweet girl, it’s like you don’t want this to last long,” he said, almost angry, and the sound of his voice had your eyes rolling back in your head. He sounded so good, he felt so good, he was so perfect, you were so full… “Like you’re trying to drive me mad with this tight cunt, with those sweet little whimpers, you feel so good, baby.”

You couldn’t do anything. 

You were a molten mess of heat and driving need, your body aching and craving and sated by the thick cock pressing inside of you. Bob was thrusting so deep into you, his fat cock head prodding against a spot you distantly registered wasn’t made up, but might’ve been, for how perfectly he was hitting it. You weren’t aware if you were making sounds or just lying there, all you knew was how fucking good he felt in you, how you needed him to never stop. 

“Feel so full,” you gasped, and Bob pushed into you again.  

“Damn right,” Bob muttered, his voice dark, “full of my dick, like you’re fucking meant to be. Gorgeous girl, bent over, taking my cock like you need it.”

You whimpered, clenching around him. “I do, I do,” you babbled, “need you.”

Bob moaned, and it might’ve been the prettiest sound you’d ever heard. How was he real? How could he be this good, this kind, this fucking hot??

The sounds in the room were dizzying. 

Bob’s hips slapping into your ass, the squelching sounds where you were joined, your gasps and his breathy grunts. It was perfect, and you felt the heat around you condensing in your core. 

He knew, somehow. 

The fingers that had been spreading you for his cock, moved to the top of your cunt, teasing over your clit. Your legs jerked, your mouth dropping open as Bob circled your clit, his fingers tracing over it, gently pinching it and coaxing you higher. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you panted, heat and need rising. 

“Christ, please,” Bob said, his voice so earnest, so dear, as you pushed back into him. “Let me feel it, sweet girl, let me feel this pussy I’ve been dreaming about. Want to feel you milking my cock, so damn good, you can do it, come on…” 

He pumped into you once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out, shaking, and then Bob’s hands were on your waist again, holding you up. You moaned his name, trembling and lost, and he held you, ever steady. He kept working into you, his thick cock pressing into you, like he was the only thing tethering you to this pane, and you felt drunk off of him. 

“There it was, that was beautiful…fuck, you’re so hot, that feels so damn good. You sounded so gorgeous, sweet girl, you did so well…”

You moaned as his words coaxed you back. 

He was still pumping into you, that steady, punishing pace and you were so sensitive but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He felt so strong, so hot, so close to you and you needed it. Needed him. His thick arms cording around you, his strong grip digging into your hips, his fat cock stuffing you, you never wanted it to stop. 

“You’re so good,” you whispered, needing him to know. Not just how he felt, or how he sounded, but who he was. How he was, and how much he meant. 

Bob’s hips stuttered.

You were aching, you were spent, but you tightened your core and clenched around him. 

“Baby,” he groaned, “I’m close you can’t–”

You rolled your hips. 

Bob grunted, and then he was moving, faster than lightning. He swept your hands out, pushing you down by your shoulders into the mattress, his body draping over yours. You turned your head to the side, and like he knew, he was there, kissing you. 

It was sloppy, it was messy, but your lips and tongue tangled together, like you both needed the sweetness of a kiss to balance the savage way Bob’s hips were fucking into you. 

Each press of his hips ground your pussy into the mattress and the pressure was so fucking unreal. You moaned into him, and Bob seemed drunk off the sound, off of you. You were so overstimulated, so out of your body that pleasure was the only thing that made sense. Only the way his hips rubbed your clit into the mattress, only the way his cock was stroking into the deep part of you, only the way he was panting against your lips. 

“You’re everything,” Bob whispered, just a breath away. “So much better, so much – fuck, you feel too good. Will you come for me again, sweet girl? I want to feel it so bad, need another one from you, can you do that for me?”

You shook your head, wrung out, but you felt it building anyways. Fuck, how was that possible? But Bob’s thrusts, the pressure on your clit, the weight of his warm body, the need in his eyes, it was driving you higher. 

And then. 

And then he got close. 

He broke off from the kiss, his thrusts growing almost frantic. Each breath he drew ended on a gasp, a soft whine that reached deep into your gut and set off something primal. He was fucking into you but he was whimpering, and you knew he needed it, needed you, like he said. He moaned, a needy, beautiful sound, and before you could feel his orgasm, yours broke over you. 

You collapsed into the mattress, Bob covering you, and you distantly heard him getting louder as your thighs shook. He sounded so pretty, those sweet moans and the desperate gasps driving you mad. The world was just molten heat, desperate thrusts, echoes of whimpers and you faded into the vacuity of it. 

When you came back, you were on your side. 

You were drenched in sweat, you both were, and a sheet was covering you from the cool room. Bob had taken off the condom, you noticed absently, and had pulled your sheet up over both of you, tucking you into his chest. His arms were warm around you, and when you exhaled, you watched the blond hairs on his forearms blow back and forth.  

“How’re you doing?” Bob asked softly, and you could weep. It was him, so familiar, so gentle, and so much better than any recording, any fantasy, anything. Your arm swung halfheartedly in his direction. 

“You jerk,” you sighed, “you’ve ruined my subscription.” Bob chuckled, the bed shaking with his deep laugh. “Think you can content yourself with the real thing?”

You shifted, turning to face him. In the dim light of the room, he somehow still managed to look like an angel. His soft eyes were unfocused, his mussed hair was snarled from your fingers, and he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. 

You leaned over to kiss him, Bob’s lips already thinning on a smile. “I think I can manage,” you said.

//

tagging: @withahappyrefrain @cheekymcgrath @mxgyver @lewmagoo @sebsxphia @callsign-fangirl @callsignspark @sometimesanalice @daggerspare-standingby @rhettabbotts @teacupsandtopgun @attapullman @yuckosworld @skteaiy @yanna-banana @briseisgone @gigisimsonmars @milesmillergf @katiedid-3 @hangmandruigandmav @3tabbiesandalab @marchingicenotes7 @callsignmedusa @ryebecca @tgmavericklover @cottagecori @becks-things @sorchathered @mulletmcghee @straightforwardly @high-speed-r @rcmupout @purelyfiction @fairyheart @sunsetsimpsblog @angelbabyyy99 @cremebruleequeen @marvel-djarin @sgt-barnesveins @supernaturaldawning @echo-ethe @sunlitide @alilstressyandlotdepressy @hughesvolpe @aczhang777 @saltsicklover

chances are high i'll do a part 2/followup with both of them recording an 'overheard' audio...let me know! comments and reblogs are the surest way to make that happen 💙

[healmydesires]

nasty (j.m)

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: On a hot summer morning, you wake up with Joel’s mouth between your thighs.

genre: smut with a bit of fluff. kinda pure filth… sorry (18+ mdni)

word count: 4,2k

tags/warnings: established relationship, age gap (reader is in her late 20’s, joel is in his early 50’s although it isn’t really mentioned), soft!joel, soft!dom joel, sub!reader, dom/sub dynamic, somnophilia (consented, but it isn’t mentioned), lots of pet names, reader is described as shorter than joel, unprotected sex, piv sex, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), joel has high key an oral fixation, pleasure!dom joel, doggy, hairpulling, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, size kink, daddy kink, praise kink, creampie, heavy on the breeding kink, joel has a big dick.

a/n: the title is inspired by ariana grande’s song nasty. also in my brain this is in the same universe as “forever in your eyes”. this is truly… a huge fantasy of mine so, this is another super self indulgent piece. I hope you enjoy! <3

pls joel miller… one chance 🥺 [begs]

ao3

The sun is bright and warm on a summer morning, light slipping through the partially open blinds, warming up the bedroom. Your body slowly wakes up from its slumber, a moan falling from your lips as you register the feel of a wet tongue lapping at your slit.

Your cheeks heat up as you realise the position you’re in. You’re on your tummy, your hips are slightly tilted upwards as Joel’s tongue licks your pussy from behind like a man starved. You whimper loudly as your pussy clenches around nothing as you feel him circle the tip of his tongue around your tight wet hole. You still feel a bit sore from last night’s activities. As Joel was making you cum on his tongue for hours before he even made love to you.

“Ah, Joel!” You mewl pathetically.

“Good morning baby girl.” He groans against your heat.

You grip the bed sheets between your fingers as you slowly rut your hips against his mouth. Your core is beyond soaked, dripping underneath you onto his mouth and sheets. You were truly desperate and full of want, you needed some more relief.

“You’re dripping for me kitten,” Joel grunts as he slowly moves his fingers to your wetness, tracing your slit slowly with admiration as you try to buck your hips against his face and fingers, begging for more. “So needy for me.”

Your eyes slide shut and you whine, as he leans down to wrap his lips around your button at the same time he pushes two of his thick fingers inside your pussy.

A broken moan spills from your lips as he moves his fingers and tongue simultaneously.

This is heaven. You could literally die happily right now.

His tongue, moving slowly against your clit, as his fingers continue to fuck inside you. The wet squelching sounds makes Joel moan into your clit, causing vibrations that make your body tremble and shake. He curls his fingers against your most sensitive spot inside you, making you grind your hips against him once again.

Your walls hug every surface and ridge of his thick fingers, the sensation making your toes curl. Joel’s mouth lavishes your pussy with his tongue while he moans every now and then against you. Your hips continue to move against his face, picking up your pace gradually. Your head reels with pleasure once his tongue presses down on your needy aching clit.

“F-fuck, J-Joel, I’m so so so close. Pleeeaaaase.” You whimper begging for more.

Joel sucks at your clit while he curls his fingers into you. He eventually sucks harder on your clit, still occasionally swirling his tongue around your little button while moving his fingers inside you faster.

You’re a mess of his name, you chant Joel’s name over and over again. Eyes are squeezing shut to the point of tears, overwhelmed as he continues to pleasure you in one of the best ways he can.

You let out a moan more akin to a scream as he scissors his fingers inside your pussy at the same time he sucks your clit into his mouth. With the second hard suck on your throbbing clit, you cum with a loud moan. You feel your vision turning white as your whole body writhes beneath him.

He laps at your release happily, licking your pussy lips slowly until you’re whining from the overstimulation.

“I’ll never get tired of how sweet you taste baby,” he groans against you. “I could eat this little pussy for days.” You feel him press soft kisses to your trembling thighs, his beard tickling your skin.

“Please Joel… I need you.” You whine desperately.

“What do you need sweetheart?” He says as he presses another kiss to your skin.

“Fuck me, please. I need you to fuck me.” You wiggle your hips impatiently.

“Anythin’ for you princess.” He chuckles as he grips your hips to flip you over but you quickly swat his hands away with a whine. “Sweetheart?”

“I wanna try something else this morning…”

Every damn day, you’ve been begging for him to fuck you from behind. And every time he would find excuses not to do so. He keeps telling you that he doesn’t want to hurt you. You know how big his cock is, you’re more than aware of that. But you simply don’t care, you want him to fuck you in the most filthy way possible. To stretch your tiny hole, filling you up so deliciously. You’ve been dreaming of him fucking you from behind for so long, you need it so much.

“Baby, we talked about this. You need to be patient.” Joel whispers as he caresses your hips in a soothing manner.

“Joel… I’ve been patient.”

“Sweetheart—”

“I need you. Just, pleaseeee. Please, I need it so bad. I need to be filled with your thick cock. Need you to fuck me from behind so bad. I just crave it so much. I want you to breed this little hole you love so much… Please your kitten needs it so ba—” your begging gets cut off by a high pitched whimper leaving your lips as Joel’s mouth dives back between your thighs.

Licking a long stripe along your slit, coaxing a loud, broken moan out of you. Joel’s hands grip your hips, keeping you in place as he laps at you furiously. You writhe against his lips, whining and pleading for more.

He encircles your clit and sucks, pulling whimpering pleas from your mouth. It’s heavenly addicting, the way Joel’s tongue slips between your folds and dips into you, working you closer and closer to your release within each passing second.

His hands move to your ass, kneading the two cheeks as he lets you grind your hips back against his face. Sweet little noises of ecstasy leave your lips as he continues to lick and suck at your pussy.

You shudder as his lips wrap around your throbbing clit again, sucking lightly. You cry out as you feel yourself get closer to your second high of the morning. You squeeze your eyes shut as you pick up your pace, unable to handle the unbearable pleasure you’re experiencing as the coil in your stomach is about to snap.

You mewl loudly as Joel plunges his tongue inside your pussy. Massaging your inner walls, driving you insane. He sucks and licks with fervour.

“Joel, please, I’m close, fuck fuck fuck,” You stutter out a loud cry.

He increases his pace, tongue thrusting inside your pulsing hole rapidly. Your body’s temperature is rising as you move your hips, fucking his tongue.

“P-please.” You moan, your voice sounding so broken.

“Come for me kitten.” He groans against your pussy before plunging back his tongue inside you, bringing his thumb to your clit applying pressure. You come with a loud whine, your vision turning white and your ears ringing as your whole body racks with such intense pleasure, you almost thought it might make you pass out.

Gasping out his name, you grasp the sheets in your hands at the intense pleasure. Your pussy keeps clenching around his tongue as he continues to pleasure you. Your hips are stuttering until the final waves of aftershock have passed. Gently, he laps at your release until the overstimulation is getting too much.

His hands caress your ass fondly as he pulls his mouth away from your throbbing heat.

“You did so well angel, you’re always so good to me. Such a good girl. I can never get enough of how good you taste.” He murmurs.

You whimper at both the oversensitivity and his words. As you’re trembling and coming down from your high he moves to press wet kisses all the way up towards your neck. Your whimpers, whines and moans don’t stop as he spoils your body with his touch and his affection.

“I love you so much sweet girl.” Joel whispers as he nuzzles his head between your neck and your shoulder.

You feel yourself melting underneath him at his words, touch and kisses, “I love you too.” Joel presses open mouthed kisses against your neck, shoulders and jaw. Leaving you a whimpering mess. You’re wiggling your hips against him, situating his hard length between your ass cheeks. Joel’s hands come to grab your hips with a loud groan.

As you continue to squirm under him, his cock slides against your pussy. The action makes both of you moan and your body trembles with anticipation, hoping he would finally enter you from behind. You feel your inner walls clenching around nothing as you move your hips against his, grinding your wetness against his massive cock, the tip nudging your clit or entrance every now and then.

It turns slick as you keep grinding yourself against him, and he has no trouble gliding his hips against you and rutting his cock against your entrance. He groans as he moves his body against yours, leaving you breathless. You feel your pussy pulse and continue to squeeze around nothing, practically begging for his cock.

His body is covering your whole body with his own. Joel nuzzles your neck as he continues to litter your skin with his kisses. You writhe against him, wishing he was just pushing his cock in you already and filling you up in the best way.

Joel reaches down and grasps himself to line up between your lips and slide. He is rubbing the tip firmly over your swollen clit and your mind is all over the place.

“F-fuck, Joel please. I can’t do this anymore, I just need you so bad. My pussy needs you. It needs to be filled with your cock and cum. Please d-daddy. Fill this little hole up, breed this pussy. Daddy please—”

At your words Joel growls, grasps your hips and tilts them more and pushes your legs further apart. He moves to circle his tip around your entrance, pulling more desperate whines from your lips. You’re squirming, wiggling your hips, trying to push back against him but he has such a strong hold on you, making it hard for you to move too much.

“Be a good girl and be patient.” He groans against your ear.

“P-please Daddy—”

A broken gasp leaves your lips as he finally slides the tip inside you. You feel his body moving behind you, sitting up against you, and you know his eyes are on your pussy. He’s watching as your walls spread to begin to wrap around him. You whimper at the new angle as you try to accommodate his girth. He can barely get more of it in your tight walls at first, eventually using more force to open you up for him. It feels like you are being torn open, split in half.

“D-d-daddy…” you stutter and mewl.

“I know baby girl, I know.” Joel moans as he gradually slides more of his thickness inside you and you tremble more underneath him. Your pulsing walls are wrapped tightly around his cock, as your pussy pulls him in more. The pressure of his massive dick deep within your walls overwhelms you while you clutch the sheets below you in tight fists.

“Ah, daddy… you’re so big.” You whimper.

“You take me so well kitten. Doing so good for daddy.” He moans as he leans down to press a soft kiss against your cheek, as he keeps pushing more of his girth in you slowly. You feel so full already and you know he’s barely halfway in.

“So full…”

“I know my sweet girl, I know. You’re doing so well, soon you’ll be filled with all of daddy’s cock.”

The whines and whimpers and moans keep spilling from your lips as Joel continues to push deeper and deeper. Your hands continue to grip the sheets between your fingers as he penetrates your tight walls.

“Please daddy… more. I can take it.” You whine as you squirm underneath him.

He groans at your desperate whines, losing his composure momentarily as he thrusts the rest of his length all the way inside your heat. The head of his cock touching your cervix once he bottoms out. A scream leaves your mouth as you’re trembling underneath him, you try to adjust to his size while your pussy keeps clenching around his cock. You push your head into the pillows as pathetic whimpers keep falling from your lips.

“Fuck, so fuckin’ tight.” Joel hisses.

You moan and squeeze around his cock at his words, leaving him panting above you. Both of his hands move to grab at your ass cheeks, kneading them slowly and gently.

“Please d-daddy. I need more.”

“Fuck, baby girl, you look so beautiful like this, taking me all the way… like the good girl you are.” He can’t control the words that leave his lips as his hips move, quickly pulling himself almost all the way out of your pussy, making you whine at the empty feeling. “Such a needy pussy.” Joel groans before he thrusts himself all the way inside your cunt again.

“Ah ah fuck, daddy… oh my god—” you hiccup as he moves his hips slowly but hard against you. You cry out as he thrusts so deep inside you that it has your body slumping against the bed. Your pussy continues to pulse and squeeze around his thick cock, as it tries to adjust to its girth still.

You moan loudly, arching your back and pressing your ass up against him, and he grabs your asscheeks, keeping the angle perfect as he starts rolling his hips deeply into you. You feel his cock throbbing inside you as you tighten around him. He’s so deep, hitting your cervix repeatedly making your eyes roll back in your head.

“F-fuck baby, you’re so hot like this.” Joel slowly picks up his pace at the sight of you throwing your head back. “You’re all mine, isn’t that right baby girl?”

“Ah, y-yes yes yes, I’m all yours. P-Pleeaaase f-fuuuck, I need m-mo—” you’re begging and you’re unable to finish your sentence as he gives you a particular hard thrust.

You almost feel your arms giving out on you because of the force of his thrusts. Joel’s hands are clawing at the sides of your hips, guiding you with him, and he leans down again to place kisses on your upper back, his kisses travel down your spine, until he leans back up and just looks at you from behind.

Your mind goes blank as all you can do is focus on the feel of him stretching you, filling you up, so overwhelmed with bliss already. He thrusts deeper inside you, earning whines and moans as you continue to cry out his name. You try to tell him, breathlessly, about how good he is making you feel.

The sound of your pleasure fuels his desire to fuck you better, urging him to do more.

Joel picks up his pace, thrusting into you quicker, harder, hitting the spot that has your body going numb.

You claw at the sheets, burying your face into the pillow to muffle your screams. The air is all stuffy around you as his hips move faster, moaning you try to push back your hips against his to take more of his big cock. Your tiny pussy is so full of him, still trying to accommodate his thickness as it pulses and tightens around him. Joel moans at the sight, kneading your ass as he tries to bury himself more inside you, his tip hitting your cervix instantly. Your eyes roll back inside your head once again as you dig your fingers more into the bed, you mewl against the sheets at the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you.

Hair is sticking at the nape of your neck and back, and Joel leans closer to brush it away but instead he grabs and tugs slightly on it, at the same time he thrusts harder and faster. You whine loudly as the angle makes him hit your sensitive spot inside you. You’re literally going insane, it feels so overwhelming and good.

Your noises become louder and higher pitched as he continues his assault on your pussy, indicating that you’re getting closer as well as the sounds of your pussy that keep meeting his cock over and over again. The sounds mix along with your desperate cries. “Your pussy is so tight and wet around me, begging me to fill you up in other ways… begging for my cum.” He groans as he thrusts harder.

“God, daddy-daddy please. Fuck I—”

You whine as your eyes roll back inside your head.

“What do you want, kitten?” He groans while one of his hands reach around you to slip against your clit making you writhe against him as he applies pressure. The pleasure has the tension tightening in the pit of your stomach, dying for your release.

“Oh, m-my goood… please J-j-d-daddy, h-harder, faster p-p-pleaaseee.” You squeak out in between moans. The wet noises of him easing into you over and over has your cheeks burning, realising just how wet and needy you are for him.

Joel buries his face in the crook of your neck, picking up his pace again, fucking you so fast and hard that you swore you never moaned so loud in your life. Suddenly, everything was becoming too much: the pressure against your clit, his grunts, the sticky, sweaty feeling, his scent, his warmth, the drilling of his cock inside you. Just everything. You try to catch your breath but from how Joel is thrusting inside you and the rubbing against your clit it feels almost impossible to do so.

“I-it feels s-soo— F-fuck, I-I, daddyyyy—”

“Does that feel good, sweet girl?” He asks as he leans down his body closer to yours making him hit your cervix repeatedly. You whimper and tremble underneath him as you nod, he moans against your ear as he whispers close to you. “Does it feel good? That I’m fucking you like this? Just the way you wanted it.”

“Yes! I-it feels sooooo gooood, Joeeel—” you whine as he continues to hit your sensitive spots inside you. Joel’s fingers continue to press down on your little nub making you squirm. The tension continues to build up as the pleasure is becoming too overwhelming.

Joel snaps his hips into you again and again, thrusting deep, causing you to see stars from knowing just how to pleasure you. Feeling like your head is swimming once again, you whine. “I’m sooo so close, p-please…” you beg desperately. You only need one more little push, a little bit more attention to reach your peak.

You are crying out for him, your moans almost sounding like his name, and he moves his head down again and presses kisses down your neck.

“Come for me kitten…” he whispers against your ear.

“Ah—”

His hips never slow down as he massages your clit. And then the coil in your lower tummy snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head while you arch your back as your world dissolves into pure ecstasy. You can’t stop yourself from shaking as you come against him. You almost black out because of the intensity of your orgasm, trembling like crazy. You whimper as the overstimulation is getting to you.

“Daddy wants to fill you up, baby girl.” He groans as his pace is becoming erratic, with less finesse as he charges towards his own finish line. “Going to fuck a my cum into you, kitten. Get you nice and full…”

Your walls pulse and become tighter around him as he continues to hit your cervix. He groans as his movements become more sloppy. Loud mewls leave your lips as he finally spills his seed inside you, coating each inch of you with a warmth that pools deep inside you.

“Ah...” you whimper underneath him as your body continues to shake.

Joel exhales deeply as he feels himself come down from his high. He gently pulls out of your tiny spent hole, making you whimper at the loss and you feel his eyes on you, knowing that he’s watching his seed drool out of you. Your pussy continues to clench repeatedly around nothing and he feels himself harden again at the sight.

You’re still trying to catch your breath as you whine every now and then. He moves off the bed, making his way to the bathroom to get a warm, wet cloth and returns to your legs to clean you carefully. Once he’s done he comes back into bed, wrapping his arms around you instantly.

You feel his face nuzzling in the crook of your neck. You tighten the hold you have around him, holding him close, pressing a soft kiss on the top of his head.

“That was truly amazing Joel… thank you.” You whisper against his hair before you hear him chuckle, his body shaking as he laughs softly.

“Any time baby. You know I’d do anythin’ for ya.” He says before bringing his head towards yours, leaning down once again to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

“I love you.” You whisper as you pull away to look at him tenderly while your fingers trace his face, his beard fondly.

“I love you too, sweetheart. So much.” He whispers back as he leans down to kiss your lips. The kiss is like velvet against yours, and there’s no hurry when he tilts his head a millimetre to fit against you better. His lips are so soft, swollen from all the kisses you’ve shared. His mouth moves, delicate and slow. He kisses you like he has all the time in the world.

His mouth moves slowly from your lips to the rest of your face, littering your skin full with them. “You did so well for me, such a good girl for me,” he whispers as he places soft kisses against your temples. Your cheeks burn at his sweet words. He leans down to capture your lips in another kiss. Kissing each other languidly for a while before you feel him trace your thighs with his fingers. You pull away and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“What?” He chuckles, playing coy and tries not to laugh as you shake your head with mock annoyance.

“I know what you are thinking.” You squint your eyes at him suspiciously.

“And what am I thinking?” He asks playfully, staring you down as he tries to stifle a grin.

“Well, I don’t even have to say what you’re thinking, I already feel you getting hard again mister.” You say with a playful smile as you poke his chest. He quickly grabs your hand, bringing it up to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. Butterflies erupt in your stomach at the action.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He whispers against your hand, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Right… of course you don’t.” You roll your eyes at him playfully.

You yelp as you feel him pinch your ass. “Don’t be a brat.” He grabs your ass in his hands, bringing you closer against him as you whimper, making him chuckle at your reaction. “You know that I’ll always want you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at his words. “Me too.” You whisper as you bite your lips with a smile.

His eyes twinkle deviously as he squeezes your cheeks in his hands. “I could wear you out even more than I did last night.” Joel says cheekily, winking as a smirk plays on his lips.

“Joel!” You give him a playful push as your cheeks heat up at his words. Joel laughs before wrapping his arms around you, puckering his lips while making kissy noises and littering your face with kisses which makes you giggle and squirm against him. Joel’s grip tightens around you as he continues to kiss you all over your face playfully.

“I know you love it baby girl, don’t try to deny it.” He whispers before leaning his head down to kiss your neck, you squeak and continue to squirm against him.

“What if I say I don’t?” You taunt teasingly, cocking your head to the side.

“Then you’re a terrible liar.” He says looking all smug before his lips nip at your jawline.

Your giggles turn to breathy whimpers the more he kisses and licks your neck. You feel yourself lose easily in his kisses and touches, your body turning to mush instantly.

“I’ve been very nice, very good to you… Maybe you’d love to cum around me again?” He smiles as he looks down at you deviously as you gasp, giving him a playful push again.

“Joel!!” You squeal before he holds your body close to his, swallowing your noises as he kisses you deeply. Both of your laughs turn into breathy moans as you both continue to touch each other.

The morning continues like this, your fingers wandering all over each other, giving each other kisses all over as the pleasure between you two doesn’t stop. The day is filled with love and desire for one another, you will never get tired of loving that man.

He’s your heaven.

[fettuccin-e]

Absolutely Ravenous

Kinktober Day 25: Mirror Sex

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv (pls wrap it irl i am begging), mirror sex obviously, slight degradation, overstimulation, kind of free use, Miguel is feral again what can I say (w/c: 1K)

A/N: SO even though I did not get all of Kinktober done within the month, I am determined to finish all of the prompts! So just stay tuned for days 26-31 in the coming month, and you can think of it like Kinkvember or somethin'. ANYWAY back to it with Miguel because I was inspired by this ask!! (Of course, I am using these prompts from flightlessangelwings for Kinktober!)

He’s relentless, ravenous, fucking insatiable. 

Miguel O’Hara is a man who prides himself on his control over every situation. He has to be in control, for the good of the Spider Society, for the good of the multiverse. He knows when to stop, when he’s reached a certain limit. He’s careful to keep himself objective and distant, especially in front of the other Spiders.

But not with you. Never with you.

He’s careful and collected, but the second he has you behind closed doors, all bets are off.

Miguel is a fucking animal when he gets like this, needy for your touch, desperate to fuck you over and over until you both can’t possibly move anymore. On nights like these, he wrings you dry, breaking you to pieces on his fingers, his tongue, his cock. 

He’d fucked you on the floor in your living room the moment he’d walked through the door, pounding you into the rug and snarling at the feel of you, his eyes bleeding red.

He’d carried you to your bed immediately after, eating his cum out of you with clawed hands digging into your thighs, holding you steady as you thrashed against the sheets. He’d fucked you again, pumping more cum into your abused pussy and kissing the tears from your eyes.

He carries you to the shower like a gentleman after that, like he hasn’t just fucked you within an inch of your life. He washes the sweat off your body while you cling to him, resting your cheek against his broad chest. And his desperate fingers just can’t seem to help themselves, dragging through the seam of your pussy and sinking two of them deep inside of you.

And you’re just as needy, just as ravenous. So you let him. You take everything he gives you and thank him for it. You grasp onto his shoulders and moan pleases and thank yous into his mouth as he finger-fucks you beneath the spray of hot water.

You let him drag you out of the shower and bend you over the bathroom sink. You let him push his fat cock into your pussy without protest, just as desperate for it as he is. 

That’s the thing about nights like these, it’s never fucking enough.

He just looks so big behind you, his body tense and muscles rippling as he drives into you over and over and over again. He’s like a beast over his prey, and the sight of it makes you shake, your body forced to open to him as he takes control.

You both are still dripping wet from the shower, the bathroom steamy and hot, and God, you feel lightheaded. You grip onto the marble of the counter for dear life as his cock stretches you so goddamn wide, reaching so fucking deep. His fingertips dig into your hips, pulling you back into every single thrust, bullying his cock as deep into you as fucking possible.

“Fuck, baby,” he slurs through his fangs, meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Look so fucking gorgeous like this, fucking beautiful, taking my cock so perfect.”

“Miguel, I can’t-” you whimper, tears leaking down your face and dripping into the sink below you. “It’s too much, fuck, I can’t cum again, I can’t.”

“You can, hermosa, you’re my good girl, you can do it,” he says, pulling you back into him harder, practically fucking you onto his cock, using you like a toy, and you cry out, your head dropping to hang down and just fucking taking it.

“Look at me,” he growls. “Look at how good I fuck you.” He curls a fist into your hair and pulls, dragging your head back up to look into your reflection. “Are you going to be a good girl for me, bebita? Getting fucked like a little whore, and good whores cum when they get fucked like this. Don’t I treat this pussy so good, honey? Don’t I deserve to feel you cum?”

You jerk in his hold like you’ve been struck by fucking lightning, painful moans ripping your way out of your throat every time he drives in in in. “Yes, fuck,” you croak, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, “You fuck me so perfect Miguel, it feels- it feels so fucking big inside, can’t- I can’t fucking breathe.”

A hard smack lands on your ass, sending pain ringing through your body alongside relentless pleasure, and you scream, meeting his hard gaze in your reflection. And God, he’s beautiful. There’s a blush high on his cheeks, his fangs peaking past his full lips. He looks like a god, his muscles bulging and shifting beneath his shining, golden skin. 

“Watch,” he snarls, primal and fucking mean, and it makes you clench around him involuntarily. “Watch me make you cum.” He reaches beneath you to rub his thick fingers into your aching clit, and you do.

You can only watch, mouth agape around a silent scream, as pleasure wracks your body, shuddering as you clench around Miguel’s cock. It’s painful after he’s made you cum so many times tonight, but God, it’s so fucking good. You feel like you’re dying, trembling in his hold as he rocks you back onto him through your orgasm. 

“God, that’s fucking good,” he breathes, pumping into you once, twice more before stilling, sucking in a beath through clenched teeth as he floods you full of cum all over again. He’s gorgeous to watch, the tendons in his neck tightening, his eyes fluttering as he groans through his orgasm.

He pulls you back up against him to rest you against his warm body, not the cold, hard sink. It’s bliss.

“We’re going to have to shower again, Miguel,” you murmur, and you watch Miguel’s face twitch into a smirk in the mirror. Your heart flutters. “Separately, Mig, we have to get clean sometime,” you chastise.

He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck. “Maybe sometime, but not tonight, hermosa,” he murmurs, and it sounds like pure sin. “Not before I’m done with you.”

[hotgirlssupportlando]

one day x lando norris

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader summary of series: a series following one day of every summer from 2016 onwards in y/n’s and landos lives, exploring their friendship and love for one another. of course some angst and fights along the way in this rollercoaster of emotions. a friends to lovers, growing up together kind of thing. summary of this part: the start of y/n and landos friendship/crush. y/n is bored at the eurocup where a stranger (lando) is suggesting a betting game to make her interested in the sport (and him). wc: 1,2k notes: im too obsessed with one day atm so just had to write a story inspired by it!! it’s very modified tho, and i haven’t decided yet if it will have the same ending, don’t know if i can handle that haha! also pls ignore the charles pic, couldn't find a better atm. hmu if you have any requests for any of the years x part two here

summer of 2016

Red Bull Ring, Austria

”please y/n, you’re 16 years old, can’t you go elsewhere and entertain yourself, you’re getting a bit annoying now” y/n’s dad told her whilst he was trying to fix the broken car.

”ugh, sure i’ll go for a walk then” y/n sighed and went to go for a walk around the paddock hoping to see something more interesting than broken cars. her friends were jealous that y/n could tag along her father around europe all summer watching the eurocup formula renault 2.0, but she wasn’t very impressed. despite having a father working as a mechanic and utterly interested in motorsport she hadn’t inherited any interested in the sport what so ever. but at least she could escape england and the rain for some time so it felt like a win although she sometimes felt like dying from boredom. 

y/n walked around the paddock and decided to facetime her friend y/f/n.

”please come and save me, austria is so fucking boring and where the hell are all the cute guys i was waiting for??” y/n proclaimed. 

”omg y/n stop it, you’re always nagging about everything, you should be happy!! nothing happens here either so might as well be in another country doing the same” y/f/n said as y/n entered a tent where they served drinks and snacks. while she was ordering she noticed a curly haired boy shaking his head whilst smiling her way but she just continued her conversation with y/f/n. after enough discussion about the lack of interest y/n had for the sport and talking about y/f/n new crush y/n ended the call, sat down and opened her pepsi in front of her. it took about five milliseconds before the curly haired boy reappeared, this time in the seat in front of her. 

”hi” the boy squealed. 

”…hi?” y/n said questioning what he wanted, she weren’t exactly in the bestest of moods so to say. 

”i heard you hated the eurocup and that you think every guy is ugly here, so here i am to prove you otherwise” he said grinning. y/n chuckled at the way the boy seemed to have no time to waste in proving her wrong. 

”and how are you supposed to do that? do you have a masterplan?” y/n asked looking amused.

”glad you asked! well first of all here i am so now you’ve at least seen one cute boy around the paddock so there’s one problem solved an-” the boy was interrupted with y/n’s laugh. she couldn’t help herself from laughing but tried to gesticulate with her hand that he could continue. 

with a smile he proceeded to tell the girl about a betting game that could make her interested in watching the races. y/n was immediately down for the idea because honestly she could’ve done anything at this moment to have some fun. they had to come up with one condition each for the bet and agreed on saying them at the same time so no-one could back out. the curly haired boy betted that he would stand on the podium on today’s race and y/n betted that he wouldn’t, easy as that. now to the conditions. the boy apparently had his condition already planned out so y/n panicked trying to come up with one quickly too. she looked around her and went with the first random idea she got. 

”okay so we’ll say them on three?” y/n asked getting a nod for an answer.

”one.. two.. three” 

”you’ll buy me-” y/n started before getting interrupted.

”you’ll give me a kiss” the boy said with a cheeky smile. 

”…a pepsi. WHOA! you’re wasting no time mister” y/n laughed out after finding out the big differences in the conditions given. she was followed by a laughter from the boy too who was unsurprisingly very pleased with the bet. y/n wasn’t disappointed either, the boy was indeed quite cute for being a driver but she couldn’t let him know that. imagine the hubris he would get then, in comparison what he already had. 

the pair shook hands and locked in the bet. they decided to meet up after the race either at the podium or at his team, depending on how the race went. y/n was excited and almost felt a little butterfly in her stomach getting loose. 

”see you later then…” the boy hesitated realizing he hadn’t asked her name.

”y/n l/n, and yours was?” she asked.

”lando norris, but there’s no need to remember that, you will see the name on the top of the podium later” he chuckled walking away to his team. 

y/n could only smile and shake her head while walking away too. 

—

”and lando norris takes his fourth victory in this seasons eurocup!!” the presenter shouts excitingly. 

y/n was smiling so big her dad had to check up on her, how she immediately had watched a whole race after watching exactly zero of them up until now this summer. y/n had no time to explain to him what was going on and started to run along the paddock until she reached the podium. she was so excited and nervous that she was about to burst, it was hard to believe that she was developing some kind of a crush to this random driver. 

because she had little to none sense of direction the celebration at the podium was already done and dusted when she reached it. a bit disappointed and confused she looked around to see if she could see lando somewhere. there was surprisingly many people running around here.

”looking for someone?” a familiar voice said and y/n turned around. there he was, a happy lando holding a trophy in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. she smiled and congratulated him partly for the victory and partly because he somehow got her interest in the sport for once. 

”i know it’s not nearly as good as a pepsi but you can have my flowers as a consolation prize” he said handing them to her. she took the flowers and admired them with a smile feeling her butterflies about to let loose. she collected some courage and looked up at his eyes before quickly looking at his lips and crashing onto them. the kiss took lando a bit with surprise but he was quick to answer it. with the hand not holding the trophy lando gently grabbed the back of y/n’s head, slowly deepening the kiss. the butterflies were officially out and about in y/n’s stomach. she tried so hard to hide the excitement but at the end she couldn’t resist smiling and therefore accidentally ending the kiss. slowly they pulled away from each other, leaving them both with blushing smiles on their lips. they looked at each other in silence for a moment before abruptly getting interrupted.

”lando! we’re taking pictures! come here now!” a member of his team shouted.

”well i guess i have to go then.. hope i’ll see you around” lando shyly told the girl.

”i hope so too” y/n stated not knowing the rollercoaster of joys and troubles they’d share in the future as friends and lovers. 

—

notes: feel free to give feedback and requests for future parts! x

[almostempty]

Cargo

(joel x f!reader, din x f!reader, frankie x f!reader) | wc: 4.9k | other fics | Ao3

summary: smuggler!joel finds you and brings you to his partner in crime, with a side of gratuitous smut and a special guest along the way (full spoiler summary under the warnings/tags) 

note: this is for my lovely @auterdelabre, and it was inspired by the line you wrote when i joked about joel using “cargo” as a pet name (and a couple other things i had to mix in there) 

extra note: i hope this can bring a lil distraction in light of the heavy reality of today, fuck fascists – just don’t fuck them

warnings/tags: mdni explicit, smut, smuggler!joel, dubcon, oral, piv, degradation, ‘whore’ and one (1) ‘slut’, truly pwp - like the plot is just p, pls let me know if i missed anything important, weds warnings: doin’ it/fillin’ it up unprotected with no consequences bc it’s fiction and in the words of Wu-Tang Clan’s Ol’ Dirty Bastard in Shimmy Shimmy Ya - Ooooh, Baby, I like it raw; f!reader is able-bodied–this time this bish has hair that joel can worm his fingers into, no y/n, likely many mistakes bc i yam who i yam 

FULL SPOILER SUMMARY: crackfic crossover: star wars smuggler!joel finds you and y’all fuck, he brings you to his partner dark!din and y’all fuck, but surprise! smuggler!joel and dark!din were your co-stars for your independent porn. your bf, Frankie (who played the Mandalorian), is just so turned on watching you edit the video that…you guessed it! y’all fuck) 

The clear water rushes downstream, rippling around your legs as you step toward the bank and the soft grass. The sunlight filtering through the forest canopy makes the surface of the stream sparkle like glitter. But, you. You are the star of the scene. 

You glow like you’re a creature drawn from the sun and the soil, from the woods and the water. Crystal-clear droplets of water race along your skin, rolling over your curves and dripping back into the current to flow down, down, down to another body of water. 

You appear meditative, attuned to nature's tranquility, disregarding the universe's relentlessly unjust chaos. The ugliness and the violence. The balance. The dark. 

Joel lurks in the trees, waiting to make his presence known. Holding out for an opportunity to strike. He creeps out of the treeline with deft precision, like a shadow. You’re only partially dressed, still bent over your bag, searching for something when he gets close.  

“Don’t think you’ll need to worry about that anymore.” 

He’s not loud, but his gruff voice still disturbs the serenity. A jarring interruption to the leaves rustling in the breeze and the birdsongs echoing above. You take one long breath before you look him in the eye. Dropping your bag, you raise your hands in surrender. 

You have nothing. No weapons, no defense, no chance of getting far if he’s tracked you down already. “How did you find me?” You square your shoulders, standing your ground despite your disadvantaged position. 

“It’s my job,” he replies simply. 

He circles around you slowly, appraising you, eyes roaming over your exposed skin. Your tight shorts and thin undershirt don’t leave much for him to imagine, but you refuse to shrink or hide. You assess him yourself, and realization spreads across your face. You mutter his name aloud. Joel. 

He pauses just behind you and hooks a finger under the thin strap along your shoulder, teasing down the skin before snapping it like a rubber band. You stifle a wince. Just because he has you alone and barely dressed in the wilderness doesn’t mean you intend to give easily. You keep your chin raised in a proudly defiant stance. 

Joel chuckles dangerously at you, stepping closer. He rests his large palms atop your shoulders. It would be a sweet portrait of the two of you if it weren’t for the reality of the circumstance. Instead, his body is oppressive, so broad compared to you that it’s like you’re caged in, locked in a gravitational pull towards him, despite being in the open air. 

Your distaste for his presence has your body rigid and tense. You’re holding your breath as he leers at your body over your shoulder. His fingers dig into the flesh over the ridge of your clavicle like the claws of a predator ready to fly you away or tear you apart. 

“Are you going to come along willingly now?” he asks. The bass of his voice sends a shiver down your spine despite his furnace of a chest radiating into your back. The question hangs ominously between you. The or left unsaid. 

You swallow slowly, muttering an agreement and turning so you’re face to face. Your eyes dart across his features, and it’s strangely intimate. Something heavy in the closeness of your mouths, the shared breaths you take. His humanity is so apparent. You could reach out to trace every line of his face, but his stoic expression morphs into something sinister.

“That’s too bad,” he tuts, disappointed, “I was hoping you’d put up a fight.” 

You scowl, shifting your weight to lean away from him. He laughs harshly at your response. It’s a grating, barking sound, baring his teeth. 

You’re still thinking about what he was hoping for as he binds your wrists together, but he’s not revealing anything else. He grabs your upper arm and begins leading you toward the dense trees. You stumble, adjusting to his pace and trying to find your stride. 

“Where are you taking me?” you complain, trying to jerk your arm out of his grip, but he’s latched on tight. He’s unfazed by your attempt to break away from him as if it’s a natural part of his day-to-day to wrestle with an unwilling companion. 

It’s an exertion to keep up with him; he moves with purpose and little regard for you. Unaware of the small branches and shoots of new growth in the forest whip at your face, arms, and ankles. Uncaring that they obstruct your vision as you let him lead. 

You take his strength, size, and foul-tempered look apparent from his profile. You follow half a step behind, visibly less enthused about his single-minded pursuit. 

“Not far.” He’s blunt. Unhelpful. Answering you without a glance in your direction. 

“What do you want with me?”

“That’s not my decision,” he shrugs as if he isn’t talking about what happens to your life. Not wasting a word to ease your panic. 

“Who sent you?” Fear cracks through your voice. Ugly and raw. 

“Don’t know.” 

He’s so short with you. Brutish and rushed. Trudging along indifferent to your world crashing down. 

“You don’t know?” There’s an edge to your tone, frustration apparent. Joel shoots you a scathing look. He has a handsome face, but his dark eyes show no kindness. 

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” He turns away, looking forward as you make your way along. 

He moves confidently, like a force of nature. Twigs snap under his boots as he creates his path without regard for the destruction. 

“Then what’s in it for you? Why not just let me go?” You press sulkily. 

“I get paid for delivering you, not making decisions, sweet thing.” 

His response is gross and detached. Sweet thing. The pet name drips with sarcasm. You’re just an object. You scoff at him. 

“You’re despicable,” you cut under your breath as you weave through the underbrush. Disgust warps your features as you make your way along.

“Watch it,” Joel snaps. A low tolerance threshold. Fitting for a surly smuggler. 

“It’s true,” you snap right back. He doesn’t take it lightly, stopping and yanking you around roughly so you’re facing him again. 

“You’re heartless,” you jab, “scum. You don’t care about anything but your own profit.” 

Fed up, he backs you into the nearest tree. The bark digs into your shoulder blades. His hand grips your throat menacingly. His face is so close to yours. The deep line between his brows, the depth of his dark eyes, and his plush lower lips are all you can see. 

“Keep it up,” he goads. His fingers are merely a threat, resting along your arteries. Tempting you to talk back. “We both know you aren’t innocent,” he adds. 

You snarl at that, arguing that he doesn’t know the first thing about you, but he only grins darkly. 

Joel enjoys the way you detest him. He also enjoys the sight of you pinned under his hand. The way it only takes one to have you helplessly trapped. You’re still muttering insults at him, but he’s ignoring your words. He’s too interested in the arch in your spine tilting you towards him. The rising and falling as your breath is shallow and quick. 

Your thin top is still damp from your dip in the water, and from his point of view, it’s a scene that deserves to be photographed. You seem so delicate in contrast to him. His wide palm covering your throat, his vascular forearm so masculine against your supple skin. You look at him through your lashes, your eyes narrow and scornful, but his eyes trail down as your voice trails off. 

Joel has a perfect view of your hard nipples under the thin material of your shirt. The fabric clings to you like you’re in a wet t-shirt contest, and the longer he stares, the more he starts to lose his sense of urgency in taking you anywhere.

“What?” you interrupt his ogling, forcing your features into a disapproving glower to overcompensate for the breathlessness. 

He’s amused by your contempt and disobedience. He can tell there’s a struggle forming beneath the surface. The twitch between your brows where they threaten to saddle in pleasure if he applies the right pressure. The lust flickering behind your eyes. The disdain tugging at the corners of your frown only makes his blood run hotter. 

“You think you’re better than me,” His voice drops, sinfully low. You stare blankly, not arguing. “You think you’re special,” he continues cruelly. 

“You aren’t.” His fingers squeeze along just the sides of your neck; playing god with you, he restricts the blood pumping through your arteries. “No, sweet thing, you’re just another runaway whore with a bad attitude. That sure as hell doesn’t make you special.”

“I’m not a whore.” You spit his words back in his face. 

“No?” He mocks, tilting his head and dragging his eyes over your frame. His lecherous gaze highlights your compromising position. You’re on display for him, at his mercy, alone. It all comes into focus as your throat runs dry. “Could’ve fooled me.” He lifts the pressure off your neck, and the blood rushes to your head. 

Your gasp switches into a tight frown. His cocky smirk only widens. 

“Argue all you want, but your body doesn’t lie,” he coos arrogantly. 

“Can feel your pulse beating faster,” his fingers massage deliberately at your neck. You steel your breathing, eyes searching for something on his face to focus on. Something to ground you. But he leans in close, his breath hot along your ear. “So desperate,” he inhales deeply like he’s cataloging your scent, “just for me?” 

His other hand traces the angle of your jaw. 

“Maybe that’s just a human response to being pinned to a tree in the middle of nowhere by a smuggler,” you hiss. 

“Maybe.” He releases you, and you stagger forward at the sudden loss of support. Losing your balance and unable to steady yourself with your hands bound, you’re toppling forward to your knees as Joel half catches you—stopping you from landing with your face in the dirt. 

He shakes his head at you in disbelief. Every time you move, you pose just to tempt him. Here you are on your knees, glowing in the soft light as you tilt your face up at him. The fear that flitters over your face twists into something else. Something that makes you both pause. 

Joel moves first, resting a hand on your cheek. Reflexively, your lips part, and he can’t stop slipping his thumb into your mouth. You try to recalibrate, reversing the involuntary responses, but he’s already seen them. The way your breath hitched and the way your eyes darkened. 

He raises a brow slightly, entertained by how easy it is to read the signs. “It’s too late to hide it.” He pulls his thumb back, dragging it slowly over your bottom lip and down to your chin, leaving a trail of saliva that catches the light and glistens. “You think I can’t see how bad you want it?” 

You shake your head lightly in defiance, murmuring that he’s wrong and dropping your gaze. You’re sat at eye level with his belt and his one hand with the thumb hooked on a belt loop. You study every ridge of his hand, the scars along his knuckles, the sun-tanned brown skin. 

The bulge highlighted by his fitted jeans catches your attention, and you look back up to meet his eyes.  

Joel slips his hand past your face, fingers weaving into your hair, cupping the back of your head. He doesn’t add much pressure, and you don’t have to lean far to rest your cheek along the worn denim on his upper thigh. 

“Yeah,” he growls above you, “take it out.” 

You move hurriedly, dissolving your denial. It’s easy work to unbuckle his belt and pop open the button of his jeans, even with your wrists bound. You wet your lips unconsciously as you tug the band of his boxers down until his cock springs free. Only half-hard, it hangs imposing and proud. So close to your face, you can see the tiniest twitch as he responds to your warm breath fanning over his skin. 

“Get to it,” he orders. 

You blink up at him, resistance fading on the tip of your tongue. “Or get up so we can get a move on; doesn’t matter to me.” he challenges. You curl your fingers around the base of his shaft. It’s smooth and hot under your fingertips. Experimentally, you run your tongue along the underside. His fingers tighten their grip in your hair. 

You open wide, laying your tongue out flat, and he guides you. Joel’s eyes are glued to your mouth as he slides his cock past your lips. You stare back, studying every expression that crosses his face. His hard eyes don’t soften, but you could swear his blinking slows. The hint of a snarl deepens as he picks up the pace. 

Using you. Fucking your wet mouth until he’s pressing into the back of your throat, seeking more. 

Your eyes tear up, but he doesn’t stop, and you don’t resist. 

You quickly acclimate, working in rhythm, breathing, taking it all. When your eyelids flutter shut and a moan buzzes in your throat, Joel laughs darkly. “If you aren’t a whore,” he pauses to make a throaty noise that spears right to your core, “why do you take my cock down your throat just like one?” 

You choke at his assertion, and he pulls out of your mouth, leaving you gasping for air. 

“Not a very good one, I guess,” he says flatly, yet with a particularly pleased expression still faintly etched in the lines of his face. You wipe the spit coating your chin onto the back of your hands. 

He doesn’t reach for you again; instead, he takes his cock in his own hand. Impatient. Slick with your saliva, he strokes himself lewdly, grunting with pleasure as he flicks his wrist. 

“You’re deranged,” you mutter, voice hoarse. 

He doesn’t like that. He moves without a word, shoving you forward onto your elbows and knees. He holds you down against the soft grass with one hand as the other crudely pulls your shorts down. He runs his palm along the curve of your spine, over the contour of your ass. Both hands grip the back of your knees, readjusting you to his liking. 

Then he takes his time. 

Kneading your ass and thighs, landing one firm smack on that has you jolting forward, cheek pressing flat into the grass. The sharp sensation disorients you and leaves you sucking in air. 

Joel is undisturbed by your reactions. He takes both of his thumbs to spread you open wider, revealing the glossy sheen of your core. Your cunt drips, slick and swollen for him. 

“You think I’m so despicable,” his gravelly voice makes your mind fuzzy, “how come you’re so fuckin’ wet for me?” 

You can only manage to whine into the ground, pushing back towards him. “You don’t move,” he says harshly, one wide palm gripping your hip to hold you still. When the blunt head of his cock glides along your seam, you let out a broken moan. His fingers dig into your soft flesh in warning. 

He pauses, with his tip resting at the core of your throbbing pussy, to marvel at the visual before sinking into you. You gasp at the overwhelming sensation of being filled so completely. You don’t have time to adjust before he’s pulling back and slamming into you again. He drags against every nerve inside of you, intensifying every motion. 

Joel isn’t gentle. He holds you firmly and uses your body, fucking into you with rough thrusts that make your thighs tremble. “Take it,” he grunts, pounding into you deeply until his hips meet your bare thighs. 

It’s all wet noises, heaving breathing, and skin slapping against skin. He watches the plush curves of your ass ripple as he drives into you harder and faster. The force of his movement pulls sharp, ragged cries from you as he fucks you so hard it pushes the air out of your lungs. 

“This is all you get.” Joel groans behind you, curling over you with his broad frame. Your bodies are sweaty where your naked skin slips against each other, and you writhe against him, mouth hanging open and eyes rolling back as he fucks deeply into you. 

“You’re nothing to me,” he snarls, punctuated with his hips snapping into you brutally. “Just fuckin’ cargo.” 

“Shit,” he mutters, hips stuttering as you whimper. “You like that. Can feel you clenching around me,” he keeps talking. You’re mindless beneath him. A winded, drooling mess. “Ain’t even worth the hassle to deliver. Better use taking my cock,” he grunts, hips canting more erratically until he stills, pulsing inside of you with a throaty groan. 

You’re boneless, propped up on shaky knees as he pulls out and watches his come leak out of you for a moment. Then he’s crassly yanking your shorts up and ordering you to stand. You’re wobbly when you get back to your feet, and he huffs at you agitatedly. “Figure out how to walk, or I’ll drag your ass the rest of the way.” 

You can’t say how long it takes before you reach your destination. Everything was a blur as you clumsily trotted along, outpaced by Joel’s long stride. You’re breathing loudly through your mouth, a sheen of sweat between your shoulder blades and on your chest. Joel, apparently well-conditioned for the cardio, is frustratingly collected. He holds you tightly as he opens the door and pushes you inside. 

He jerks you towards a makeshift seat on a crate and raps a fist against the wall behind you. You can hear heavy footsteps. Joel ignores you as you try to read his expression. In seconds, the fully armored Mandalorian enters the room. 

He moves swiftly, barely glancing in your direction as Joel meets him on the far side of the room. 

“You were delayed,” the Mandalorian remarks in his modulated voice, his tone unrevealing. Joel steps in closer, muttering in a hushed tone that you can’t pick up. Something makes the Mandalorian laugh abrasively. His voice cracks through the air, fraught with a hazardous edge. 

You sit still, chest tight, as the helmet swivels towards you. Expressionless metal, he gives nothing away. Harsh lights beat down on your damp skin, making it hard to stay still. 

Joel is menacing, but this guy is impossible to read. The Mandalorian stalks towards you like a predator. 

Joel leaves the room, presumably off to shower, pulling his shirt over his head as he walks away. 

“Let’s see then,” the Mandalorian commands as he approaches. 

“See what?”

He pulls you to your feet, a gloved hand jerking your head side to side as he examines you. 

He steps forward, and you back away in synchronized steps until your heel hits something. The Mandalorian has you trapped between the cold wall and his cold metal armor. 

He removes the cuffs that bind your hands, tossing them aside, drawing a confused look from you. Instead, with one hand, he pins both your wrists above your head, causing your legs to spread instinctively. You squeeze your eyes shut as if you can control yourself without looking. 

“He said you’re not worth the fuel to return.” The Mandalorian gestures toward the direction Joel disappeared in with just a subtle tilt of his head. “That you’re a distraction and a whore.” 

“Then let me go.” 

“No.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t say more. He watches you. He is still and statuesque, whereas you’re so human. In the thick air, your breathing sounds too loud. Your heart beats too violently. Your limbs tremble too weakly. You give away so much, just with your body, your face, your eyes. 

“What do you want with me?” 

“I ask the questions,” he negates coolly. 

He squeezes your jaw tightly, “Is it your mouth?” His fingers squish the insides of your cheeks against your teeth. 

“No…it can’t be this needy cunt, hmm?” 

You’re shuddering, soft, and pliant. Warm, flesh and blood. You can’t form a response for him, even when he releases your jaw. Your gape at him with wide eyes and wet lips. 

Then, unceremoniously, he’s shoving his hand into your leggings. Wedging his thick fingers between your slippery, swollen folds. He growls like an animal beneath the helmet.

“You’re soaked,” he says. “Getting fucked full of Joel’s cock wasn’t enough?” He pulls his hand out, letting the band of your leggings snap against your belly. You stare back. Your body trembles lightly, arms straining in his grip. 

“Answer me,” he orders quietly. 

It’s soft. Your throat is still hoarse. “No.” 

Then he’s groping at you with an intensity that makes you writhe against the cool steel wall. 

He pinches at your strained nipples, rolling them between his fingers and making you bite your own lip to distract from the twisted pain and pleasure he’s unleashing on you. You can’t keep back all the noises, though, and he pauses when you moan and arch into his hand. 

“You’re not a whore,” he decides and he wedges his thigh between your legs. You roll along the ridged plate of armor, needily grinding against him. 

Without warning, the Mandalorian tears your top off of your body like a starved animal. Primal and desperate, but with precision. A tremor runs through you at the exposure and ferocity, making you gasp. 

“No. You like this too much to be whore.” He drops your hands and they fly to his shoulders. You wrap your legs around his waist and he carries you across the room dropping you onto the bed. 

He pulls your leggings down, tossing them to the floor. You’re breathing so heavily, anticipating his next move. He pulls his cock out of his pants and you can’t take your eyes off of it. The only part of him exposed aside from his hand. The only glimpse of the true man beneath the metal. 

He taps his drooling head on your clit and you make a hungry sound, spreading your legs wide to make room for him. With a firm grip, he guides himself through your throbbing folds and into your hot, wet cunt. 

You groan as he meets the end of you. Your walls flutter around him as he splits you open, and then he starts to rock in and out and you keen. “Shut up,” he growls and covers your mouth with his palm. 

He saws into you relentlessly and you choke down your cries of pleasure. “Listen to how wet you are,” he mutters. “Such a filthy slut.” Your body jolts with every thrust, breasts bouncing and legs shaking as he keeps your mouth covered. 

“You think she can take us both?” 

You strain under the Mandalorian’s hand trying to turn your head and Joel moves in closer. 

“She’s just cargo,” Joel muses darkly, “she’ll take what we give.” 

…….

You pause the video on your laptop, freezing the scene just as it cuts back to your reaction to Joel. The fucked out smile in your eyes apparent, even with your mouth covered. 

You whip your head over to look at your boyfriend lounging next to you on the sofa. Your brow is furrowed critically, and he can see the wheels turning in your mind. His eyes, though, are clouded with lust. 

“Would’ve been better if we could’ve made a set that looked like the Razor Crest,” you grumble. You chew on your bottom lip as you consider the rest of your critique. 

“Do you think I should’ve kept in more of the dialogue between you and Joel? And the continuity with your gloves—do you really think it’s not that noticeable?” 

“Baby,” Frankie mutters in his thick, husky voice. “I don’t think anyone is worried about the plot or the fucking gloves.” 

You sigh deeply at that, returning to your video editing software with irritation. “You’re just saying that because you aren’t worried about those things,” you admonish him, continuing with your work. 

You play another clip of the scene that the two of you shot. Hearing your moaning and whimpering for him through the laptop speakers drives him fucking crazy. He’s pretty sure he could wear a banana suit and people would still happily pay to watch you get railed by him. 

“I’m not just saying that,” he argues, deciding to hold back on the banana comment. 

“Come here. It’s late, take a break.” He can practically hear your eyes roll as you ignore him and continue poring over details that only you would notice. He doesn’t have much patience left, already desperately turned on both from the video you made and from how sexy you look next to him. So focused. In your element. 

He lowers his voice into that rumbly, bassy register that he knows you can’t resist. “Are you going to make me repeat myself?” Your head swivels, and he gives you a dark glare with a gleam in his eye. He can see the feisty remark swirling on the tip of your tongue. “Come here,” he orders. 

You close the laptop, pushing it towards the middle of the coffee table. “Are you going to punish me?” you murmur, crawling onto his lap slowly. “I can get the helmet back out,” you joke with a playful smirk before you curl into him, pressing soft kisses along his warm neck. 

“Fuck,” he huffs, “I should punish you.” He grabs your hips, guiding you closer to where he wants you. You gasp at the same time as he groans when your core rubs against the long ridge of his erection. “You feel that?” he growls lowly. The friction and heat between you radiates up his spine and down to his toes. “You feel how hard you make me?” he asks. 

“Yes.” You grind against him. He feels huge through his soft sweats. You roll your hips, savoring the pressure of his hard cock teasing you. It sends sparks from your cunt to your nipples, lighting up your nerves. He slips one hand under the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing–his t-shirt– to palm your tits and pinch at your nipples as if he could read your mind or, rather, your body. 

“That’s how hard every jerkoff that watches us is gonna be.” 

His statement makes you giggle softly against his neck. “Yeah?” you ask breathily. 

“Yeah,” he confirms before capturing your lips with a hungry kiss that makes you moan into his mouth. You melt into each other on the sofa. Tongues sliding against each other, hips rocking against each other, and hearts beating against each other through your ribcages. 

He cradles you in his arms as he shifts. Releasing you once you’re flat beneath him on the sofa, “They’ll never know what it’s like to feel your sweet cunt come around their cock, though.” He says as he lifts your legs, sliding off your soaked panties before spreading you open. 

You can only hum in agreement, entranced by the sight of him pushing down his sweatpants. He’s lost in you. The desire in your eyes and the arousal shining on the folds of your core. You wrap your legs around him, hitching one knee up high to give him deeper access. 

“Please,” you groan. He teases you with the wide head of his cock, nudging at your clit as he coats himself in the fresh wave of slick flooding around him. 

“Please, what?” 

“Please, fuck me. Now.” 

A warm puff of air comes out of his nose. Amused with your impatience. But when he starts to feed himself into you slowly, it’s no longer funny. He’s possessed by the same urgency. Gripped by the plush heat of your cunt as you stretch around him. When he’s fully seated, hips flush to your pelvis, his cock throbs inside of you, and you dig your fingernails into the musculature of his shoulders. Silently demanding more, so he moves. 

He fucks into you with a fervor made of possession and pride. Filling you so deeply that it’s like he’s connected to your soul, slotted perfectly into the heart of your cunt. Every ridge of him designed to caress every nerve inside of you. But beyond fitting together physically, he knows exactly what you want. 

He snaps his hips harder. Faster. With a force that makes your eyelids heavy and your head bob limply as he drives into you with such strength that it makes you mindless with pleasure. He gives and gives. And you take and take. You cry out his name when he finds the perfect angle to launch you into a euphoric orgasm. It’s not long before he’s coming, too, stuffing you full and deep as your walls constrict and contract around him. 

Time feels fuzzy as you lay together. Sticky but satisfied. His arm and leg thrown over you weigh heavily as he relaxes. He could drift off like this, and he’s about to say so when he catches that look on your face. You just figured something out. 

“What are you plotting?” he asks in a sleepy voice. 

“I’ve got an idea for our next video.” 

“Yeah?”

“Do you still have those zip ties?” 

pls let me know if enjoyed or hated any of it <3

Dividers by @cyberangel-graphics

ty: to @gothcsz for reminding me that pwp is pwp when i spent days getting hung up on some unnecessary details, and to @magneticecstasy for an idea that didn’t make it in, but will not leave my brain now 

gen tags for some babes: 

@lovely-vamp-princess

@gothcsz

@auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange

@itwasntimethatdidit40

@ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy