#soooo beautifully written

[seriousturd]

Some very goofy BMB doodles

References under the cut:

[borgialucrezia]

ok so i'm re-reading blood and beauty once again, and i have to say that sarah dunant is the superior borgia fiction writer out there. i absolutely love her delicate and evocative writing as well as how she brilliantly humanizes the characters through compelling narratives. not to mention her attention to detail and meticulous research creates a rich historical backdrop, immersing us in the fascinating world of the borgia family. she also has an exceptional understanding of how hot and terrible cesare can be while still making him nuanced. it's a personal win for me as someone who's pretty much bored of his character being softened up and romanticized in other works. the more he does something awful, the more compelling he becomes to me (although he wasn't romanticized much in showtime's the borgias but his image of an over-ambitious, sadistic, gaslighting, and manipulative guy seems to appear innocent that watchers tend to overlook it, and some of his misdeeds were dumped onto juan, like making him the only one having an affair with sancia of aragon when cesare was involved as well, or having him kill lucrezia's lover, paolo, etc., which is why i wasn't as interested in cesare as i was in juan because juan does nasty acts, but you get an idea of why he did what he did and still find the human in the heinous.) the most phenomenal writing part for me was to not lean into the rumors by not having cesare kill juan because it's closer to historical reality. and as much as cesare's 'from envy to fratricide' pipeline can be groundbreaking like how it worked in showtime's the borgias, dunant proved that juan's murder can still be astounding without the fratricide. because even if cesare did have a tempting motive to kill him, as he wanted his position so badly, cesare's letters to him make me doubt that he ever had any involvement in his murder since the letters show so much fraternal love. i also want to add that rodrigo's deep love for his children, while being self-aware and devastated over the fact that he uses them and forces them into roles they're incompetent for and marriages for political gain, was a standout aspect in the book. in short, the book is emotionally engaging because it delves into the intriguing world of the borgia family's renaissance. imo, it's a must-read for borgia enthusiasts.

[thegaissilent]

I just realized The Guardian (Ellie's Song) is very Glinda coded and now I just wanna cry saojsaas

Highlights to my insanity under the cut...

[evansbby]

You right some of the best fics like this his undeniable. But what do you think is the best fic you’re read

It got taken down, but it was the Steve fic by sweetlyscared where he thinks reader has done something that she actually hasn’t, so he kidnaps her and holds her captive in his basement and they end up having a baby girl and at the end of it reader has been held captive for so long that eventually when he brings her upstairs, she’s afraid to go outside 💔💔

[leatherbookmark]

huh, i just found a polish edition of moby dick from like... the fifties? eighties, rip split into two volumes. it's not fancily illustrated or anything but maybe i could try reading it!

[nutzworth]

every time i see a snippet of the homestuck epilogues (usually featuring dirk/jake because im crazy) im like man. i should reread the epilogues. they are so awesome. and then i remember that theyre so long and boring and BAD and i can never reread them ever unless im REALLY into it

[raymend]

day 10000 of wishing four shine wasnt in yk2 (spoilers in tags for y2, minor y3+4)

[moonheavens]

moonheavens' (wolfstar) fic recs, Nov 24

hello! since my last list of fic recs is now over a year old (Aug 23), I figured it's about time for a new one, especially on the back of the recent discourse about shouting about work you love, which I'm always happy to do.

so without further ado, here are some fics I have "recently" read and loved and whose praises I'd like to sing, very loudly. please do note this only includes wolfstar or multi-ship Marauders fics.

authors, if you want to be untagged, have your fic removed or have the one line summary changed, just message me.

all recs with ao3 links below the break <3

WIPs

All's Fair in Love and Trivia, by @cancerravenclaw ~75k, Explicit, Muggle. exes to lovers years after a huge, painful break-up. I've been eating this up with a spoon and re-read multiple times so far, it's soooo good. really hot ex-sex, yet also handles the complex emotions beautifully, and I love the group dynamics.

The Labyrinth, by QuillNib ~45k, Explicit (check tags), AU. Sirius is forced to sign a contract with an A/B/O breeding facility. really interesting take on omegaverse dynamics, very handmaid's tale vibes. great writing and plot, and keeps you on your toes constantly.

How To Jeopardise Your Friendship With Remus Lupin, by @amberlink ~200k, Teen, Hogwarts. everything you could ever want from a Hogwarts-era best friends to lovers fic. beautifully written, amazing characterisations and also just super funny and sweet. I love this Remus dearly, and this is one of those fics where you drop everything else when the update email comes in.

A Song for the End of the World, by @wannabelilybriscoe ~200k, Mature (check tags), AU. zombie apocalypse wolfstar!! amazing plot so far that really keeps you guessing, with great links to canon yet entirely fresh and inventive. wonderful friendship dynamics and writing, and I would die for this Sirius (but also lowkey steal his man).

Shorter finished works (<30k)

back to the old house, by @saintlupin 20k, Explicit, First War. Sirius, Regulus and Remus get stuck in grimmauld place and have to deal with the tension between them. absolutely beautiful, and painful in all the best ways like only saintlupin can achieve.

Sirius Black and the "mystery girl", by Anonymous 30k, Teen, Hogwarts. the marauders try to guess who Sirius is mysteriously dating. this one is so much fun, really light-hearted and joyful and a great twist with the Lily POV.

What I Heard, by fishcommuter / @fishpilgrim 28k, Explicit, Hogwarts. definition of idiots to lovers; wolfstar acting like a couple and having to be told they're basically dating. light-hearted, sweet, and a lot of fun.

The Barista, the Burglar, and the Sofa, by orphan_account 21k, Explicit, Muggle. summary reads "the story of how Sirius tries to seduce a man by slowly furnishing his flat" and.. that totally checks out. absolutely hilarious and very sweet, and I too would fold if Sirius Black bought me a bookshelf.

Wishes on Stars, by Quietlemonhush and @theresthesnitch 19k, Explicit, AU. Remus makes a wish upon a star and gains a friend. without spoiling too much, this one is a wonderful journey - so sweet, so beautiful, so poetic, so heart-warming.

A Good League Hence, by @eyra 15k, Teen, Muggle. a country hotel in the wintertime. I could put eyra's entire bibliography here as they're incredible, but this is one of my favs. sweet christmas fluff with animals and eyra's ever-incredible writing, just perfect.

June: or how Sirius finally figured himself out, by MarigoldWritesThings / @marigold-hills 15k, Explicit, Hogwarts. does what the title suggests, and wonderfully so. I adore this version of pining yet oblivious Sirius, and the writing here is stunning. tender and heart-warming.

Just a Little Bit of Magic, by @cancerravenclaw 25k, Explicit, Muggle. music journalist Remus falls in love at first sight with model Sirius at a club. flirting ensues. one of my favourites ever - sensual, delicious, beautifully written. the kind of fic I'm grateful exists, and secretly wish I could write.

Tear My Chest Open, by @puuvillaa 22k, Explicit (check tags), Post-Hogwarts. Remus never goes to Hogwarts and meets Sirius, who is taken, in a writing class. complicated feelings ensue. this one was painful, but beautiful. a beautiful expression of care and tenderness.

nothing sweeter than my baby, by damagecontrol 7k, Explicit, Muggle. wolfstar dads on a date night at a Hozier concert, except it's mostly sex. ridiculously hot and sexy, yet sweet and fun. one of my favs if I want something nsfw.

Match Point, by @billspaid 14k, General, Muggle. wolfstar as husbands who are both tennis players, inspired by Challengers. exactly what you want from it; ridiculously fun. competitive yet sweet as they go head-to-head. a blast.

lunch poems, by aeridi0nis / @steelycunt 5k, General, Muggle. tourist Sirius bothers bookstore employee Remus into adoration. aeridi0nis and their gorgeous gorgeous writing never disappoints and this was so much fun. swotty Remus my beloved.

Three Card Monte, by @enjambament 14k, Teen, Muggle. I love heist AU's and this is one of the best ones out there. tensive and exciting the whole way through, and this wolfstar... I want what those bitches have.

The Right Reason, by softsilkentofu 11k, Explicit, Post-Hogwarts. wolfstar get married (as friends) to evade anti-werewolf laws. incredibly funny and heart-warming, with great writing, and a fun twist on fake dating.

Longer finished works (30k+)

Dunes and Waters, by MarigoldWritesThings / @marigold-hills 36k, Explicit, AU. curse breaker/convict Sirius is forced to work with ancient Egypt researcher Remus on a riddle. I loved the mythology aspects of this and the twist on canon, and it was beautifully written.

The Road to Sweetwater, by @euripidestrousers 57k, Explicit, AU. Wild West AU, with outlaw Sirius and bounty hunter Remus. I've been yelling about this one a lot recently - one of my all time favs, beautifully written and so brilliant. I'll be coming back to it for a long time.

The Spy Who Loved Him, by OptimisticDinosaur / @mostlyoptimisticdinosaur 35k, Explicit, AU. James Bond AU, with spy Sirius and 'man in the chair' Remus. intensely exciting and tensive, and so much fun. I really had a great time with this one.

an endless sky of honey, by @colgatebluemintygel 35k, Mature, AU. Greek mythology inspired; Sirius is a God, Remus is a mortal. that's all I'll say, you gotta go into this pretty blind, but it's just. incredible. toothpaste never misses and this one is really special.

through the gaps of sunlight, by grumposaur / @pancakehouse 48k, Explicit, AU. victorian era exes to lovers wolfstar with aristocrat Sirius... this one was so much fun, the yearning! the pining! the longing glances! I ate that shit up with a spoon.

The Waste Land, by afieryfox / @a-fiery-fox 51k, Mature, AU. Remus is a resistance fighter for the Order; Sirius joins the fight. brilliant wartime-wolfstar characterisation and a really tense and engaging plot, plus amazing writing. one of my favs of 2024.

love finds a way, by @littleoldrachel 60k, Mature, AU. Jurassic Park exes to lovers... who doesn't love dinos? Rachel always delivers with her writing and characterisations, and I'm obsessed with these nerdy, mopey versions of R & S.

Lie to Me (Another Secret), by Whoops_e 151k, Explicit, Hogwarts. Sirius is expelled from Beauxbatons and joins Hogwarts late. beautiful fic with a focus on mental health, with amazing dialogue and super tender wolfstar (one of my favs). the bathroom scene in ch40 is everything to me.

back when we were dinosaurs, by epicblueblanket / @kaaaaaaarf 37k, Explicit, Muggle. Remus and Sirius meet at their workplace, a museum in Toronto. paleontology!!! nerd Remus!!! sexy Sirius!! this has everything you want, just a perfect fic in every way.

Bonus recs that you've probably already read, and if you haven't you absolutely 100% should

Harry Potter and the Dog and the Wolf (series), by thewholeofthemoon ~605k overall, Mature. a retelling of canon (starting from POA) but with Peter captured and Wolfstar taking care of Harry, aka how we all wish canon had been. beautifully written and super original take on the story. it's long, but it's worth it for the wolfstar alone.

Hey, Sharpshooter, by @tortoisebore 200k, Explicit, Muggle. college, basketball player Remus meets figure skater Sirius. recently finished, and I couldn't not include it as this is in my top 5 most re-read and loved fics ever. it makes me want to pull out my teeth one by one (affectionately). they're engraved in my memory at this point.

on another ocean, by @colgatebluemintygel (WIP) ~133k, Explicit, Muggle. recently dumped Sirius drags Remus on a holiday across through Europe. if you haven't read this, please, please do. it's literally my favourite thing in the entire world. like, no competition. I would sacrifice my firstborn for this fic, and like, raze the city of Troy for this fic (my Helen).

Chimaera & The Wolf (series), by lostmy_keys / @lostmykeysie 337k, Mature, First War. Regulus and Remus work together to find the horcruxes. this one is popular, and for good reason; I devoured this, one of my favourite things I've ever read in my life. so exciting and tense, and the wolfstar is everything to me.

and if after all of these you’re still looking for more, may I humbly inform you I’m also a wolfstar writer myself—you can find my fics on my ao3.

and that's all, folks. this is just a small selection, I have read dozens more so if you want more you know where to find me. love always, Ames <3

[firelilysky]

Two things I want to do more of this year are be more vocal about fics that I’ve loved and make more art. Soooo I’m going to start posting my recs accompanied by art bc fic authors are incredible and deserve so much love and praise and I personally want to be better about doing more than just dropping kudos on ao3!

Kicking this off with New Heights by my talented friend @adriancatrin - a sweet zukka getting together/coming to terms with feelings story with a beautifully written Zuko & Azula dynamic. The dialogue made me laugh out loud, the characterizations are spot on, and the actual ‘getting together’ moment is incredibly tender and soft.

Go read and show Adrian some love!

[dimlylittorch]

i NEED to read about them fucking you don’t UNDERSTAND-

CW: ghost/referenced ghoap x reader, slight angst, possessive behaviour - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

Being the one to pick up Soap’s wardrobe from a secondhand store— the donation so fresh that the scent hadn’t even had the chance to fade and mingle with the rest of the shop. You’re wearing a dead man’s hoodie and you haven’t got the faintest clue.

You like his overbearingly rugged smell; find yourself lifting up the collar to inhale and wonder what the person who donated it is like. The hoodie is emblazoned with a name— maybe he’ll see you on the street one day in his old clothes and use it as an ice breaker. The thought is nice. You don’t even know.

Soap was a man who liked personlized items; a taste for things that were one of a kind— just like him. Everything he touched had been marked by a man living a full life and was wholly unmistakable to the discerning eye of the shadow who knew him inside out.

So why was ghost, absolutely swamped in grief, forced to see an interloper wearing his boy’s clothes? He just wanted a fucking coffee.

Johnny’s official family funeral had been no more than a month ago and there was already a stranger wearing his stuff. If ghost had the privilege to grab that box of Johnny’s items and run, it would be neatly tucked away in his closet, silently cherished. Not hanging off the frame of some random civilian who could never even begin to fathom the depths of a man like John MacTavish.

It must’ve been the world playing a sick joke on him that you, who didn’t even know the man, would be able to collect Johnny’s stuff before him. Never allowed anything.

Suffice to say, he’s pissed when he spots you. Stands a bit too close to you so Johnny’s scent can catch in his nose. You’re clearly nervous, but manage to smile hopefully when he makes an offhanded comment about liking the garment. You probably think they’re his clothes, don’t you?

Well, for all intents and purposes, they are.

You ask if he’s ‘MacTavish’ and something in him wants to scream at you that the world hated him far too much for that to ever happen— instead he just nods, leering at how happy that makes you. He can’t tell if your response lights up his brain because he wants to bite your head clean off— or because somewhere, deep inside him, seeing someone so excited about ‘finding’ Johnny is nice.

He hatches a plan. Knead away at your apprehension towards his intimidating appearance, bag a quick fuck— god knows he needs one, grab the clothes, and disappear from your life with Johnny’s items finally where they belong. It’s perfect.

Well, it’s perfect until an unavoidable, nagging voice starts to rattle around in the back of his skull that Johnny would have been absolutely smitten with you. You might have been one last parting gift sent from his boy, how could he ever turn that down? The thought of fucking you in Johnny’s clothes, being able to nudge his crooked nose into the fabric and chase the scent that’s starting to entangle with your own— it sends him reeling

Johnny would be so pleased if the scent of their sweet lamb caught. Can vividly picture him absolutely beaming while huffing at the clothes before urging ghost to take a sniff for himself.

He latches onto the notion that maybe, just maybe he could tuck you and the clothes away somewhere safe for his eyes only— teeth already sunken deeper into you than he could ever possibly imagine by the point he finally acknowledges the gnawing revelation.

Johnny would want this for the both of you. This time he’d keep you safe.

[t1oui]

thinking about how living w regulus would affect harry like

he's such a fucking snob about everything. food, decor, fashion, you name it, he's got opinions on it.

he does ballet despite being the least graceful person on the planet. he's somehow pretty good at it, likely out of spite

speaks french

very much a cat person, has a cat named leo who is his baby

like yk how james and sirius are extremely codependent? that's how harry is w leo. both of them can not handle being apart from each other too long

reads a lot of stories

thinks seeker is the best quidditch position

on that note, lots of slytherin house pride. james hates it. harry refuses to put any gryffindor decorations up in his room

harry loves taking pictures just like reg so the house is filled with photographs

and ofc harry is snobby about what types of cameras he uses thanks to reg. james now just lets them deal with the cameras & photography stuff bc he's scared to get the wrong thing lol

harry is taller than reg but bc dysphoria all of reg's old clothes (like quidditch jerseys + hoodies and stuff) are his size so half his wardrobe is from reg's hogwarts days

definitely the type of guy to change his bedding & curtains & everything in his room based on the season. will anybody actually be in there other than him and his parents? not really, but he MUST redecorate

idk what this even means but snobby about candles. this is another thing james is scared to buy him

harry and reg speak french w each other more than english

since james doesn't speak french w harry (i hc he's only comfortable speaking it w reg) harry is used to having a conversation in two different languages so sometimes he'll be speaking french w his friends without noticing

he'll be in the middle of a rant and realize they don't understand a thing he's saying lol

reg and harry control the decorating for every holiday, every birthday, etc.

the one thing harry knows how to do that reg doesn't/reg didn't teach him is cooking. reg never cooked for himself as a child so james was the one who taught him

doesn't look like it most of the time but all of harry's clothes are very expensive... did i mention he's a snob

harry is such a dry texter/writer... he's such a dick about grammar when it comes to writing even tho he can barely string a sentence together when speaking

deeply sarcastic (look! a canon detail! we never thought we'd see that on this account, did we?)

will take his partners on the most expensive dates & whatnot like it's nothing... cedric the farmboy™️ is not prepared

writes sad boy poetry when he gets annoyed w someone... like harry will storm off all pissed and then he comes back 20 mins later with a beautifully written, very angry poem for whoever made him mad

has so many clothes & different curtains and bedding sets for different seasons that he also uses the closet in the guest room (reg takes up 99% of his and james's closet for the same reason)

has an inherent hatred of fake plants

bedroom is simultaneously tidy and so messy a hurricane might as well have come through

leaves a book behind everywhere he goes

secretly the worst sense of humor lmao

he may not have gotten his love of drawing/painting from regulus, but you def see reg in the way he is, you guessed it, a massive snob about art supplies

soooo indecisive. redoes his room at least twice a year

an asshole when he gets less than 10 hours of sleep... he's mildly tolerable after 3 cups of coffee (black, of course) but you might as well just ignore him until he gets a nap in

on that note is very good at making coffee and is, drum roll please, a massive snob about it. who would've guessed (somebody count how many times i've said snob in this post and comment it please and thank you)

if he doesn't like a gift he's horrible at pretending he's happy w it so people usually go through reg whenever they buy him something... this goes both ways too, people go through harry when buying something for reg

is visually james and lily's but in personality is really just reg's (and also lily's... he definitely inherited his spite from her lol)

is a crazy cat lady by age 20

at least 10 pictures of leo in his room... he has whole photoshoots for her and she poses for them

might as well not hang out w harry at his house bc he'll make out with his cat the whole time

loves going to art museums w regulus

he's a, surprise surprise, snob about art. james just doesn't comment on art altogether atp

his vocabulary is a weird mashup of french, english, and hindi that makes it very hard for anybody who doesn't know him well to understand what he's saying lol

looks angry until he smiles (he got this from lily but a life with reg has perfected it)

needs a golden retriever to his black cat in any given relationship (enter cedric and cho) (yes i'm going to push my rarepair on everyone reading this)

tl;dr being raised by/living w regulus has turned harry into a massive snob about literally everything and regulus is proud of it (blink twice if you need help, james)

[loveesiren]

Champagne & Sunshine (Pt. 4)

JJ Maybank x Reader

a/n: okay so maybe this wasn't as bad as I thought? Idk, it's been so long since I posted any new work so I'm still working back in to my feral energy lol. but i had this written up soooo long ago and just never posted it so here is part 4. I'm ready to just move forward lol. I hope you guys enjoy! I'll do better next time.

warnings: smut smut smut, deepthroating, language, angst, also the POV goes back and forth? sorry, I wrote this so long ago

word count: 3.8k+

You rolled over to where the sun burned your eyes and you cringed. Forever forgetting to shut the blinds. You could feel JJ’s arm draped over you and the events of last night came flooding back. You had sex with your best friend.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. JJ was pretty as fuck. But he was also your best friend. The best friend you were pining over since the day you met him. Were you together now? Was it a one night stand? Shit, you could use Marley’s advice right now. 

JJ’s POV

I’m fucking terrified to move. My arm is resting on her hip and it feels so right being there. But I spent the night inside my best friend and now I’m terrified that she’s going to leave. What exactly do I do in this situation?

Her hair is flowing beautifully into my face. She smells like pineapples and champagne like she always does. I never want this moment to end and I am frozen in fear. I lightly inhaled her scent, wanting to savor it forever. She stirred and sat up. Fuck. What do I do? Do I pretend to sleep?

She got up and went to her bathroom, closing the door behind her. I run my hands over my face and contemplate every life decision I’ve ever made. I just had sex with my dream girl and now I’m scared I’ll lose her forever. She was vulnerable. Her sister is in the hospital and I fucking took advantage of her. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Hey, Jayj?” Her sweet voice echoed from the otherside of the room. 

I turned on my side and covered myself with her bedsheets. “What’s up?”

I noticed she was naked. She leaned against the doorframe. “Do you want to join me?” Hollyyyyy shit. She still wanted me. Play it cool.

“Uh, yeah babe,” Babe???? I hopped out of bed and walked towards her slower than I had anticipated. She offered her hand and I took it, following her to the shower. 

We both stepped in silently, letting the double shower heads run over us. She turned around and grabbed her body wash. “Could you get my back?” She asked as she handed it to me.

“Of course!” She turned around and moved her long hair over her shoulder. I began rubbing the soap over her back and I could feel myself growing at the contact. Her skin was perfectly golden and I wanted nothing more than to kiss it. But I held back.

She turned to me. “Thank you,” She said in that honey coated voice that made my knees weak. She turned and began to wash the rest of her body. My eyes were fixed on her. 

“Y/n, look at me.” She paused for a moment. I don’t know where the demand came from. She turned and looked at me, yesterday’s makeup running down her face. Her big Bambi eyes staring into my soul with both sadness and need. “Can I touch you?”

She gave a half smile and stepped closer to me, moving my arms to wrap around her hips. She placed her arms gently on my shoulders and looked up into my eyes. “JJ, you made me feel so good last night.” 

I was growing harder, I knew it was pressing into her now. But she seemed to like it. I met her eyes. “Yeah?” Was all I could manage. I ran a hand down her thigh and brought her leg up to wrap around my waist. She panted. I gained some confidence in this moment. I moved my other hand down her thigh. “Give me the other one,” I demanded and she obliged, hopping up and clinging to me for support. 

“This what you want?” I asked. She shook her head in desperate need. “Use your words.”

“Please J, need you inside me.” She begged.

“Good girl,” I told her as I held her up and positioned myself at her entrance. I held her hips as I slid her down on my cock. Her nails dug into my neck as she held on. She shook slightly as she adjusted to me being inside her once again. “This okay, baby?”

“Yes,” She panted. “Please make love to me.”

I kept one hand under her and the other found its way to her hair as I pressed her up against the tile wall. My forehead pressed against hers as I thrusted into her. 

Y/n’s POV

My parents weren't home. Neither was Marley. I was so worried about her. I would go see her later. I would. And I would tell her about this. About the way JJ was fucking me into the wall right now. 

I had my hand wrapped tightly in his blonde locks, his teeth buried in my shoulder as he fucked me ruthlessly. I panted as his head slid against my walls. I clenched around him and when he felt my teeth sink into him, he flipped.

We both fell to the shower floor, his cock still buried deep inside me. I let go and threw my head back. JJ kept one hand on my hip to guide me while he laced his other hand through my fingers for support. He was on the floor, water splashing in his face while I rode his dick. He brought his other hand to my clit and rubbed small circles. It felt so fucking good. 

“That feel good, baby girl?” He asked. 

“Yes, please don’t stop!” I begged. He continued to massage my clit as he thrusted up into me. I couldn’t help my eyes rolling back as I moaned loudly.

JJ’s POV

I looked up at her beautiful face as she rode my cock. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I ran my thumb through her folds. She was so soft and to see the way she melted at my touch was sending me over the edge. I didn’t think I could hang on much longer. And then she did it. She came. I made her cum. She collapsed on me, vibrating uncontrollably as I felt her release around me. I couldn’t control it and I came inside her. It felt so good. So right. 

She whimpered a few more times as she rode out her high, and I pushed into her slowly.

Eventually, we both became still and I played with the tips of her hair as I always did when I was anxious. My cock still buried deep inside her. 

She sat up and looked down at me. “Uhm..can we go see Mars?” 

“Yeah! Yeah, of course. Let’s get dressed,” I offered. She clutched my chest as I slowly grasped her hips and slipped her off me. I tried to control myself, focusing on her perfect face, but her expression was equally as sad as I left her body.

We both finished up showering and hopped out, she ran to her closet and threw on a simple outfit. Shorts and a Nirvana tee. She tossed me some of my clothes and I put them on quickly before handing her her bag.

Y/n’s POV

You stepped outside and remembered you had no car. You hair was a rats nest between tossing and turning all night and JJ fucking you relentlessly. But You didn’t care. You just wanted to see your sister.

“I guess we’re walking.” JJ said and you smiled beneath your hair. 

“Guess so,” You chuckled. 

The two of you began your journey in silence. Walking side by side as you made your way to the hospital. You had no idea what to say to JJ. Your mind was torn. You wanted to make sure Marley was okay but you also hooked up with JJ twice and it was all running through your mind.

“Y/n, I-” JJ began but was quickly cut off by your ringtone.

You pulled your phone out and saw it was your mother calling. 

“Hello?!” You answered quickly 

“Y/n! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, mom. Me and JJ are on our way to the hospital. How’s Marley?”

“Oh good. She’s fine. She’s up and eating. She’s asking for you.”

“Tell her I’ll be there in like 30 minutes.”

“Will do. See you soon, baby.”

You hung up the phone. “Mars is awake.”

JJ took a sigh of relief. “Thank God.” He said. “Let’s get you there. I know she’s missing her sister.”

You smiled at him and moved forward. In silence. 

-

You finally arrived at the hospital and you rushed through the doors. You approached the front desk and asked “Where’s Marley y/l/n? I’m her sister.”

The nurse was friendly enough and directed you to her room. JJ followed close behind. You both busted through the door to see Marley sitting up and eating breakfast. 

“Mars!” You yelled, dropping your bag to the floor and running towards her. 

She smiled as she embraced you in a hug. JJ smiled from the door. 

Your mom and dad patted him on the shoulder as they stepped out of the room. “We’ll go get you all some food.” 

JJ just smiled and made his way to the other side of the room, plopping down on the couch and resting his elbows on his knees as he watched you and Marley catch up. 

“Are you okay? Feeling better?” You asked. 

“Yes. Much better. They gave me anti-venom and some pain killers and they said I can leave this afternoon.” Marley told you.

You couldn’t help the tears in your eyes. “I’m so sorry this happened, Mars…”

Marley scoffed. “Don’t be a little bitch, it’s not your fault.” She laughed as she ate her toast. “Hey J!” She said.

“Hey Mars!” 

“I’d love to get the fuck out of here and smoke a joint.” You laughed at Marley’s boldness and gave JJ the puppy dog eyes, silently begging him to go pick up your car so you could talk to Marley alone.

JJ laughed. “Of course, Mars.” He said, leaning over and placing a kiss on her forehead. “Glad you’re okay.”

JJ left and Marley went back to her breakfast. You gave it about thirty seconds before you freaked out on Marley. You grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard.

“Holy fuck, what?!” She asked.

“Me and JJ slept together!”

“You guys sleep together every night,” Marley said matter-of-factly.

“No, Mars. We slept together.” 

Marley dropped her food. “Are you fucking serious?!”

“Yes!”

You watched the smile spread across her face. “How was it?” She asked.

“It was…perfect.” 

-

JJ brought your car to the hospital. Marley insisted on riding home with you guys but your parents wouldn’t have it. They trusted you and JJ but they didn’t want to let Marley out of their sight for the next few days.

“We’ll meet you at home, Mars. We’re gonna pick up the pizza!” You told her as you hugged her goodbye. 

“Pepperoni and onion,” She demanded. “Don’t be late,” She said with a wink. 

JJ was driving your car and you climbed into the passenger seat. “Okay, let’s go pick up the pizza.” 

“I don’t have to come over.” JJ said.

“What? Why wouldn’t you come over?”

JJ shrugged. “You guys need family time.”

You turned in your seat to face him. “J, you are family.” 

JJ looked down at his hands, thinking about something. “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Why would you make me uncomfortable?”

JJ leaned back and turned his gaze to you. “Can we talk about what happened?”

You took a deep breath and looked back at him. “Yeah, of course. What do you want to talk about?”

“Was it…real? Do you actually want me like that or were you just trying to escape? 

“What do you mean escape?”

“I don’t know, you’ve been through a lot and maybe I was just a crutch…”

“Are you serious right now?!” You yelled. “You think I’m just fucking you as a distraction?!” 

“I didn’t mean-”

“Get out.” You demanded.

“Y/n..”

“Get OUT!” You screamed, bringing your feet up to kick him out the door. He obliged and got out. You slid into the driver's seat and sped off, leaving JJ behind. 

-

You once again sat in your room without JJ. Depressed as fuck. Marley sat beside you as you played reruns of the Kardashians. Luckily, Marley was still tired from her time in the hospital and she smoked a fat joint to herself so she was pretty much out and wasn’t in the headspace to bother you about your phone blowing up. 

You finally decided to check the 17 texts and 8 missed calls from JJ. His last text asking you to meet him at the Boneyard tonight. It was a Monday so not many people would be there.

You laid back and thought for a moment. You concluded that the two of you should talk. But absolutely no sex. 

I’ll be there at 10. You responded. 

Marley was full on snoring by 9:30. You snuck out of bed and pulled on a pair of shorts and hoodie. You knew your parents were still up and you didn’t feel like explaining the situation to them so you crawled out your window and climbed down the side of the house before taking off towards the Boneyard. 

You walked slowly onto the sand. Making out the silhouettes of a few couples making out on the beach. You scanned the Boneyard until your eyes landed on the Twinkie. You took a deep breath and approached the van, knocking on the window lightly. 

The door slid open and JJ sat before you. His hair a mess and his cut off tee barely clinging to his skin. 

“Come in, m’lady.” He said softly, gesturing you into the van. 

You rolled your eyes and climbed in, allowing him to shut the door behind you. 

You sat in the corner, hugging your knees as you waited for him to initiate the conversation. 

“Want a beer?” He asked, holding a can in your direction. You took it silently and rolled it around in your hands. “Y/n…look, I’m sorry…” He began. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings-”

“Then why did you?!” You snapped. 

“I got scared!” He started. “I was scared, okay?” He said sadly as he fell back. “I-I…I’m not good enough for you. And you were going through a hard time and I feel like I took advantage of you and I just don’t-”

“Took advantage of me? JJ, you did nothing wrong.” You told him. “What happened…I wanted it. I’ve wanted that for a long time.”

“Really?” He asked, slightly surprised.

“Yeah…” 

JJ looked down at hir beer and chewed on his cheek, unsure of what to say next.

You leaped forward and pressed your lips to his. Intertwining your fingers into his blonde locks. He didn’t hesitate to kiss you back. His tongue danced with yours as if his life depended on it. You told yourself you weren’t going to do this but it was as if you had no control over your body. You needed him.

“Fuck, Y/n…” He pulled back, fingers still wrapped in your hair. “I love you.”

You sat up for a moment. “You…love me?”

JJ looked defeated. He ran his eyes over your body and looked back up to meet yours. “Yeah. I fucking do.”

You took in a shaky breath before ripping your clothes off. JJ matched your actions. You were completely bare in front of him and all he had left was his boxers. 

“Take them off,” You demanded.

“I will,” He said. “But first I need to taste you..” He said, propping you up on the back seat and spreading your legs wide open. Your pussy glistening for him. 

He wrapped his arms under your thighs and pulled you to his mouth. The tip of his tongue exploring your folds. You were at a loss for words and gripped the headrest behind you as JJ shoved his tongue into you. 

You brought one hand down to clutch his hair as you thrust your hips to match his tongue. “Fuck J-”

He flattened his tongue to devour your entire clit and you almost cried. You were ready to cum but you didn’t want to yet.

“JJ!” you yelled. 

He looked up at you from between your thighs. He looked so happy there. 

“JJ…I need you inside me. I want to cum together…”

JJ smiled and gently slid your legs off his shoulders. He stood up and rid himself of his boxers. 

His cock sprung free in front of your face and you questioned how it fit inside you before. But it had you drooling. “Can I suck it first?”

He took your chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced you to look up at him. “Only if you want to, Barbie.” He teased.

You melted at his words and stared into his eyes as you spit on his cock. You smiled before taking his tip into your mouth. Running the tip of your tongue over his glans and the way his knees buckled made you feel amazing. You wanted to be his whore and his lover at the same time. 

“JJ, will you fuck my face until you cum and then take care of me?” You asked, looking up at him with your bambi eyes.

“You sure you want that, baby?” He asked. 

“Please…I want your cock hitting the back of my throat…”

“Okay…pinch me if you want me to stop…” He said before he lined his cock back at your mouth. You opened wide, eyes fixed up on his as he slowly slid his cock back in your mouth. He began slowly, pushing himself as far back as he could and clutching your hair tighter when you gagged. He began moving faster and the sounds coming from your throat made it almost impossible to stop. You looked up at him with your big doe eyes, giving him permission to go harder. And so he did. He watched as saliva seeped out the sides of your mouth. You gripped his hips, forcing him deeper down your throat. You coughed and gagged but you could tell he was close. Fuck breathing. 

JJ gripped your hair tighter as he forced his cock further down your throat. You could feel his warm seed trickling down and you moaned. Until it started seeping out your nose and you could not breathe anymore. You pinched his thigh and he immediately pulled out. He watched as you toppled over on all fours, spitting up his cum and trying to catch your breath.

“Y/n, I’m-”

“Fuck me,” You managed between breaths. 

“What?”

“Fuck me!” You demanded. 

JJ got behind you and put his tip to your folds, enjoying the slick that coated his cock. You panted as he lined himself up at your entrance and slowly pushed into you. You let out an animalistic whine as you adjusted to his size once again. 

JJ pulled you back and sat in the back seat, keeping you firmly on his cock. He brought a finger to your clit, rubbing it gently as his other hand held you firmly in place while he thrusted up into you. 

He pushed you over the edge and your pussy was clenching around his cock as you came. Your eyes rolled back and overstimulation set in. When you were done vibrating. He took his hand from your clit and grabbed both your legs. He propped his legs up on the front seat and held you steady. “I’m going to keep fucking you until I’m done.” He told you before he began thrusting into you harder than ever before. 

Your back was against his chest as he slid his cock in and out of you. Your nails digging into his hips as your eyes began to water at the overstimulation. 

“JJ, it’s too much!” You cried. 

“You’re doing so good, baby.” He panted. “I’m so close and then I’m going to take such good care of you. 

“I-I’m doing good?” You whimpered, feeling yourself about to cum again.

“Yes, baby girl, you're doing so good. I’m going to cum in your tight little pussy right now, okay?” 

“Yes please!” You begged. You could feel him cum deep inside you and it sent you to your own orgasm, squirting all over the van as you both shook in ecstasy. 

You both collapsed on the floor, gasping for air, your skin sticky with sweat. Your mind was wiped blank and your body was filled with euphoria. 

You rolled over and rested your head on JJ’s chest. He ran his fingers up and down your arm as he pulled you closer. You spent a few moments enjoying the rise and fall of his chest.

“John B is gonna be mad,” You giggled as you looked at the state of his van.

“Fuck John B.” JJ laughed. “That was amazing.”

You moved closer to JJ and nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck. After a few minutes, you both began to relax. Your eyes grew heavy and your body grew weaker. There was no way you were going home tonight.

“Hey, JJ?”

“Yeah, Barbie?” He asked, his voice hoarse and quiet.

“I love you too,” You whispered.

JJ smiled and wrapped both his arms around you, placing soft kisses on your forehead. You smiled as you drifted off to sleep.

-

“Are you fucking serious?!” John B yelled as he threw the door open to find your two naked bodies piled on the floor of his van. 

You shrieked and quickly scrambled to find your clothes. JJ was quick to pull on his shorts and talk to John B outside the van so you could get dressed. 

“You’re fucking cleaning the Twinkie!”

“I will! Just, let me meet up with you later okay? I’m gonna walk her home.”

You heard the boys talking outside. God fucking dammnit this was awkward. Sex with JJ was so new and the last couple of days have been so intense you hadn’t even thought about your other friends, much less how to break the news that you and JJ were together now. Wait, were you together now? Fuck.

You take a deep breath and then open the door. John B and JJ turned to look at you. You approached them slowly with your head hung low, handing JJ his t-shirt. “Uh, hey John, B…”

“Hey Y/n,” He responded. His voice is softer now. “Do you guys need a ride home?”

“Nope!” You said almost too quickly. “I mean, uhmmm, no thank you. I wanted to walk the beach for a bit.”

“O-Okay,” He responded. “I guess I’ll see you guys later?”

“Yeah, man. Sounds good.” JJ responded, patting him on the shoulder and pushing him off towards the Twinkie. 

You watched as John B drove off. “Holy fuck that was so weird!” 

JJ was gritting his teeth, unsure of what to say. “Y/n, I’m sorry…”

You began giggling, burying your face in the sleeves of your hoodie. “JJ, don’t be sorry! I just wasn’t planning to wake up naked in front of John B!”

“He really has a way of ruining the moment doesn’t he?” JJ laughed as he threw his arm around you, leading you down toward the beach.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged :)

@torturedtypewritersdept @bigenergy777 @outerbankspov @purplerose291 @shayofandoms @mirellef2001

[emmg]

What's Good in the Fanfic Hood: DA Edition

(i also have a bg3 version coming up)

For no particular reason, and in no particular order, here's some good soup I need to share with the universe (aka tumblr). Very, very good fanfics right here

the interlude by @thessaralka >>GOOD SMUTTY SOLAVELLAN SMUT with a side of angst. Fade tongue, elf dick as an anxiety cure (her words not mine), just beautifully written shameless smut for the egg aficionados. And I'm not just saying this because I strong-armed her into writing this lol

A Breach of Decorum & Spill the Tea by kdriegantir >>> The sweetest Emmrook lil one shots. I was kicking my legs, twirling my hair, giggling like a school girl. Sooooooo cute

Flower in a Cage by @teamdilf >>> If you like some plot with your angst, this is it. I had soooo much fun reading this leading up to Veilguard. This is for my Elgar'nan girlies, even if technically he's not shipped with anyone here. But damn what a charming villain. I mean, we know now he's a massive bitch with an anger issue (and the bedroom-iest voice I've ever heard, like hot shit, ask me to sit on your lap daddy) but, eh, who cares, the fic is great lol

Rook, No. also by @teamdilf >>> I just caught up on this and it's soooo fun. Just Rook being a menace to society (in this case Solas is society.) The roommate scenario Solas never asked for while he cries internally about his wife

The whole Countdown to Veilguard series of drabbles by whoframedjessicarabbit >>> Just lovely, smutty, or not, Emmrook drabbles. Soooo fun to read

Suture by @heylittleriotact >>> ok so I JUST finished reading this, like maybe 10 minutes ago, and I have THOUGHTS. Because CUTE, so CUTE, how CUTE. Emmrook a la two awkward nerds. I'm waiting for my headache to pass to write a more coherant comment but in the meantime, big reccomend

I couldn't find some folks on tumblr, so just let me know and I'll tag you if you have an account

Thanks for tuning in, ta-ta

[junedenim]

i have so much to say but i think i am speechless.

Don’t Shun The Daylight

part 5 | series masterlist

he’ll close his eyes and reinvent you

warnings: there we go…mentions of death, implied age gap, angst, crying, crying during intercourse, it’s rough, he’s rough, fingering, fisting, fucking, breeding kink (not really), daddy kink, dumbification (a bit? i guess), dubcon/cnc (i think), either way it’s questionable, questionable consent, questionable dynamics, questionable everything, no set rules or boundaries, suicidal ideation (maybe, i’m not sure how it comes off), that’s all? literally don’t read if you’re too sensitive i’m not gonna have it on my conscience

word count: 9.2k

You got into the habit of taking him by surprise.  

You just…showed up.  

It wasn’t that you were unwelcome, exactly. No, that wasn’t it. It was just…unexpected.  

The first time, he had looked at you like you were an apparition, as if his thoughts had conjured you out of thin air. He’d opened the door to find you standing there, hands stuffed in your pockets, shifting your weight from one foot to the other like you weren’t entirely sure if you should have come. And he’d just stared for a moment too long before stepping aside to let you in.  

“Thought I’d check in.” you’d said, like it was nothing. Like it was normal.  

He hadn’t believed you, not for a second. But he didn’t ask questions.  

And then it kept happening.  

These random appearances of yours. Not just in his mind but at his doorstep, in his space, in his proximity, in his heart.  

It was disarming. You’d arrive unannounced, breezing in with some excuse — forgotten something, wanted to borrow something, needed someone to talk to. And each time, you stayed longer. And each time, it felt less like an intrusion and more like an inevitability.  

And now, here you were again.  

You hadn’t knocked this time. He’d been standing in the kitchen, his hands braced against the counter, staring blankly at the half-empty glass of water in front of him, when he heard the creak of the door and the soft sound of your footsteps.  

“Alexander?”  

He didn’t move at first. For a second, he thought maybe he’d imagined it, thought maybe it was just the echo of his thoughts manifesting into sound. But then you stepped into view, your presence so tangible it was almost suffocating.  

“You’re here.” he said, his voice low and flat, as if stating a fact rather than acknowledging you.  

You shrugged, glancing around the room like you were taking inventory of the space. “You weren’t answering your phone.”  

“I didn’t hear it.”  

“Liar.” you said lightly, but there was an edge to your voice, something that told him you weren’t entirely joking.  

He straightened, turning to face you fully. “What do you want?”  

You blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of his question. But then you smiled, that soft, almost knowing smile that always seemed to unnerve him. “To see you.”  

He stared at you, his expression unreadable. And for a moment, neither of you said anything.  

The silence stretched between you, heavy and loaded.  

“I should go.” you said finally, breaking the tension. But you didn’t move.  

“No.” he said, too quickly. Too sharply.  

You froze, your eyes meeting his.  

“Stay.” he said, softer this time.  

And just like that, the air shifted. You took a step closer, your movements almost hesitant, as if you were still mere strangers to one another. In some ways you were. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, just watched as you crossed the room and closed the distance between you.  

“You’re not going to ask why?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.  

He shook his head. “I don’t need to.”  

You searched his face, as if looking for something, and for a moment, he thought you might press the issue. But then you sighed and leaned back against the counter beside him, your shoulder brushing his.  

“You don’t make this easy, you know.” you said, your tone light but your words weighted.  

“Neither do you.” he replied.  

A small laugh escaped you, soft and breathless, and it sent a ripple of something unnameable through him.  

He didn’t understand you. He didn’t understand this — whatever this was between you. But he knew one thing for certain: he didn’t want you to leave.  

Not now. Not ever.  

They were getting bad. Worse and worse. And he didn’t know how he could stop them if he even wished to do that. A small part of him — the part that still felt like it belonged to the man he had once been — knew he should have tried, at least tried, to stop them. But the bigger part kept growing, and kept winning that seemingly already-decided battle. The thoughts were growing, seeping into the corners of his mind like spilled ink, staining everything they touched. They weren’t fleeting anymore, no longer flashes that he could dismiss or chalk up to a passing whim. No, they were staying now, settling in, becoming part of him. Worse, they were feeding him, making him feel more alive than anything else ever had.  

He was getting addicted to them.  

Just the thoughts. The thoughts of hurting you were making him feel alive.  

He didn’t understand why. He was surrounded by pain all the time, wasn’t he? That’s what it looked like to anyone who dared to look at him. Death. Loss. They were deemed as pain, weren’t they? But they didn’t pain him. 

It wasn’t the death itself that thrilled him — he knew that. He had seen too much of it, cradled it too often in his hands, felt its cold inevitability pressed into his skin like a brand. Death was not beautiful, nor was it ugly. It simply was. A natural conclusion. A necessary ending.  

It wasn’t desensitization. It was simply…understanding. He saw death as the way of life, the inevitable. Unavoidable. Unstoppable. So why would he push it out of the way? So death wasn’t painful. Because pain was ugly. 

Pain…pain was something else entirely. Pain was raw, immediate, visceral. It demanded attention. It screamed where death merely whispered. And somehow, it had begun to pulse inside him, an ache that begged to be sated. 

Here he was, feeding on it now — on pain — as if it were the very air keeping him alive. Not his pain — no, he felt nothing when it came to himself — but yours. Yours had started to call to him, a song he couldn’t ignore, a hunger he didn’t understand but didn’t want to fight.  

He didn’t know why.  

The contradiction ate at him. It twisted and tangled inside his mind, pulling at the edges of his control. Death wasn’t ugly, but pain was. Pain was ugly, raw, messy, and vile. And still, it gripped him. It fed him. It made his chest ache in ways he couldn’t explain, couldn’t even name.  

You sat there now, across the room, quiet and still, unaware of the storm building in him but your presence burned in his periphery. He didn’t need to look at you to feel you there, to feel the tension in the air between you. Maybe you weren’t entirely unaware of what stirred in him lately — your body seemed to carry a new kind of unease around him, a subtle but undeniable wariness that he couldn’t tell if he despised or craved. You hadn’t said anything outright, but he saw it in the way you hesitated before speaking, the way your gaze lingered on his hands sometimes, as if trying to decipher their intentions.  

He hated himself for it.  

Or did he?  

He thought of your wrists the other night, the way they had looked bound and trembling, red marks circling them like a brand. The way you had gasped, the way you had begged. The way you had looked at him, wide-eyed and unsure, with something that teetered between fear and trust. 

He hated himself for wanting more of that.  

And yet, he didn’t.  

His jaw tightened, and his nails bit into his palms as he clenched his fists. He thought of the sounds you had made, the way your body had moved beneath his hands, and a wave of heat and hunger surged through him, unbidden and unwelcome.  

Was it unwelcome?  

He told himself it should be. There was a part of him, a faint and flickering part, that still whispered he should stop, should try to purge these thoughts before they grew into something he couldn’t control, before they consumed him completely. But that part was weak, so weak compared to the shadow growing inside him. That shadow whispered back, soft and insistent: Why stop? Why deny it?

He watched you now, the curve of your neck as you turned your head, the rise and fall of your chest with each breath. He could feel his teeth ache. He imagined what it would feel like to sink them into you, to mark you in ways you couldn’t erase.  

Why?  

Why did he want to see you hurt? Why did he crave your cries, your tears, your vulnerability laid bare before him? It wasn’t love. It wasn’t lust. It was something deeper, darker, something that twisted inside him like a knife and made him feel more alive than he ever had.  

He didn’t understand it, but he didn’t want to fight it, either.  

Even as the hunger grew, something else flickered in him — a distant sense of wrongness. He didn’t want to destroy you, not entirely. He wanted you broken, yes, but only in ways that he could piece back together. He wanted to be the one to hurt you, but also the one to heal you. To claim every part of you — the pain and the comfort, the destruction and the renewal.  

But that line, the one between hurting and destroying — it was getting thinner.  

He didn’t know how much longer he could walk it.  

The room felt heavy with silence now, though it wasn’t empty. It never was when you were in it. You sat there, lost in your own thoughts, your fingers absently rubbing the raw marks on your wrists. The marks he had left. He felt his throat tighten even more as he watched, as if the sight of you like this stirred something deep in him, something he didn’t have a name for.  

And still, the hunger pulsed.  

He didn’t know if his senses had sharpened because of the constant, gnawing tension in his chest or because he was growing more attuned to you, more tethered to your every move. But he heard the sobs. They filtered through the glass like they had a life of their own, as if they knew the path straight to him — straight to his ears, his brain, and maybe, just maybe, his heart. Though he’d never admit to that. 

Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was just a human response to the sound of distress. But something in him tightened. He felt the need to soothe you, though the impulse wasn’t entirely pure. It wasn’t just compassion — it was possession, a dark and desperate craving to be the one you came to, the one you needed.

You didn’t wait for him to come to the door. You never did anymore. The door creaked open, and you stepped inside, dripping water onto the floorboards. Your cheeks were red and streaked with tears, your hair plastered to your head, your coat hanging heavy on your frame. Everything about you was wet, soaked through and through. Wet coat, wet shoes, wet hair. 

It must be raining, he thought. But how come he didn’t hear the rain?  

You were a blur to him at first, a human-shaped blob of sorrow and dampness, enough to make him ache. His mind registered you as disheveled and vulnerable before his heart could even catch up.  

“Please- Al-” you sobbed, your voice cutting through the stillness like a jagged edge. And before he could process it, you were in his arms. You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t ask permission. You just walked into him, pressing yourself against him like you belonged there, like the mess of you was his to bear. 

His arms wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you closer. He didn’t care about the water seeping into his clothes, chilling him to the bone. He didn’t care about the fact that your wet hair was soaking his collar, that your coat was leaving a trail of dampness down his front. All he cared about was you — your sobs muffled against his chest, your trembling body in his grasp. 

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” he murmured, his voice low and steady, though his heart was anything but. He felt it pounding against his ribs, as if it was trying to reach you through the layers of skin and bone and fabric. 

“Just hold me.” you whispered, your voice cracking like the sky must have been outside. 

And he did.

He tightened his arms around you, his fingers splaying wide across your back as though he could keep you there, press you closer, make you disappear into him entirely. You were trembling, and it felt like the shaking was working its way into his own bones, his grip instinctively tightening more and more in response.  

Your face was buried in his chest, muffling the sobs that seemed to have no end. He could feel the dampness of your tears soaking through, warm at first, then cooling as the seconds stretched into minutes. You hadn’t said anything else, and he wasn’t sure if you needed to.  

“What’s this about?” he murmured finally, his voice as soft as he could make it. “Hmm?”  

You didn’t respond right away, just let out a shaky exhale against him. He felt it ghost across his skin, warmer than the chill of your soaked body. His hand moved up to your hair, smoothing it down gently even though the strands were wet and slick under his palm.  

“I can’t…” you began, a whisper, cracked and uneven. “I just…it’s too much.”  

“What’s too much?” he asked, his tone more insistent now. He pulled back just enough to tip your chin up with his fingers, his eyes searching your face. Your lips were parted, trembling slightly, and your eyes — red, swollen, glassy — didn’t meet his. “Hey. Look at me.”  

You tried, but it felt impossible. He could see it, could feel it, whatever it was pressing down on you, like a physical thing.  

“I don’t know how to say it.” you admitted, your voice small. “It’s…everything. It’s just everything.”  

He inhaled deeply, his chest rising against yours. “Then don’t say it. Just…let me have it. Give it to me.” His voice dropped lower. “I’ll carry it for you.”  

That brought your gaze to him, if only for a second. “You can’t carry everything.”  

“Try me.” he replied, his tone sharper than he intended, but he didn’t apologize. Instead, he cupped the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your wet hair. “You think I can’t handle you? That I can’t take whatever this is?”  

Your brows furrowed, and fresh tears spilled over. “It’s not fair to put it all on you. I don’t even know what it is half the time.”  

“Doesn’t matter.” he said, brushing his thumb across your cheek to catch the tear before it fell. “If it’s breaking you, it’s mine now. Understand?”  

You blinked at him, startled by the force in his voice, the sheer conviction. “Why?”  

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. Because I can’t lose you, he thought. Because the thought of you breaking is worse than any hell I’ve ever seen.  

“Because someone has to.” he said instead, his voice low and steady. “And it’s gonna be me.”  

You didn’t have the strength to argue with him. Instead, you melted further into his embrace, the fight draining from you completely. His fingers traced slow patterns along your back, and his chin rested lightly on top of your head.  

“You’re soaked.” he muttered after a long silence, his lips brushing against your hair. “Gonna get us both sick.”  

“I don’t care.” you whispered.  

“Maybe you don’t.” he said, softening despite himself. “But I do.”  

Still, he stayed there with you, his thoughts running circles in his mind — about how fragile you felt, how the weight of you in his arms felt like both a privilege and a curse. About how much he wanted to protect you, even from yourself, and how utterly unqualified he was to do so.  

But he didn’t let go.

The room was heavy with quiet, broken only by the faint rustling of fabric as you shifted closer to him. His shirt clung to his skin, damp and uncomfortable, but he didn’t move to change it. Not when you were still holding onto him so tightly, your fingers clutching at his back as though letting go would unmake you entirely.  

Your breathing had slowed, but every now and then, a small shudder rippled through you, like the remnants of the storm were refusing to leave. He felt each one as if it was his own, and each time, his hands smoothed over your back or tangled in your hair.  

“You’re warm.” you murmured against him, your voice muffled by his chest.  

“You’re freezing.” he replied.  

“I’ll warm up.” you said, as though trying to reassure him. “Just…don’t go.”  

“Not going anywhere.” he said, almost before you finished the thought.  

And he wasn’t. He told himself it was because of the state you were in, because he couldn’t leave you like this. But there was something else, too, something unspoken. 

“I’m sorry.” you whispered after a long pause.  

“For what?”  

“For…showing up like this. For falling apart on you.”  

He let out a low sound, something like a scoff, but softer. “You think I care about that?”  

You tilted your head up slightly, your chin brushing against his chest. “I don’t want to be a burden.”  

His fingers tightened on your back, just enough for you to feel it. “You’re not.”  

“But-”  

“Stop.” he cut you off, firmly. “You think too much.”  

You fell silent, though he could feel the way your thoughts churned against his calm. He could practically hear them, loud and restless, like a swarm of bees trapped in a jar.  

“Just be here.” he said, softer this time. “With me. That’s all you need to do.”  

And somehow, that was enough to quiet you. Neither of you moved. The rain outside had stopped, though you didn’t notice until the silence stretched so far that the absence of it became a sound in itself. His thoughts wandered, as they always did, but they circled back to you, always to you. The way you fit against him, small and soft and vulnerable. The way your breathing slowed as you settled, as if his presence was truly enough to soothe you. It made him feel something that sat heavy in his chest.  

He didn’t want to name it.  

“Thank you.” you murmured, so quietly he almost didn’t hear it.  

“For what?”  

“For not letting me fall apart alone.”  

He didn’t respond, just tightened his arms around you, pulling you closer as if to say, I won’t let you fall at all.

“Sometimes I just want to…to bite you.” he growled into your neck, the roughness of his voice scraping against your skin like sandpaper. His hands gripped your hips like they were the only thing tethering him to reality, and he yanked you closer, hard enough that the cold metal of the bumper bit into the backs of your thighs. His teeth found your neck, grazing first, then biting, not quite hard enough to break the skin but enough to make you gasp.  

“Yeah?” you managed, your voice a trembling thread barely audible over the sound of the rain beginning to patter against the pavement. Your nails clawed at his shoulders, desperate to find purchase, to dig in, to leave some evidence of this moment on him too, but he was unyielding, too solid, too immovable, too tough, like a wall you could slam against but never break.  

“Not in a nice way.” he continued, his breath hot and damp against your neck. “But I…I want to hurt you.”  

The rain came faster now, a sudden cascade that turned the air heavy, drenching you both in an instant. It soaked through your dress in seconds, the thin white fabric clinging to your skin and becoming almost translucent You felt flimsy beneath him, exposed in every sense of the word, and yet you didn’t pull away. 

Pressed between him and the car, you’d never felt more alive. His hardness dug into your front, insistent, undeniable, as the cold rain dripped down your spine and mingled with the heat pooling low in your belly.  

“Why don’t you?” you whispered, the question trembling between you like a dare.  

His head snapped up, his eyes meeting yours with a ferocity that made your breath hitch. The look he gave you was wild, predatory, and utterly consuming. The rain dripped from his hair, from his lashes, slid down his face in rivulets, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. His gaze burned through the downpour, fixing on you like you were the only thing in the world. His world. 

“Don’t tempt me.” he warned, his voice low and dangerous, though his hands betrayed him, sliding further down to grip your thighs.  

“I’m not tempting you.” you said, though the words felt like a lie even as they left your lips.  

“You’re always tempting me. Always pushing. Always wanting me to lose control.”  

You swallowed hard, water pooling in the hollow of your throat as your heart pounded against your ribs. “I want you to.”  

Everything seemed to still. The rain, the wind, even the unrelenting thrum of the beat in your chest. His gaze bore into you, searching, weighing, deciding, his jaw tightening as though he were holding himself back with every ounce of willpower he had left.  

“Careful.” he murmured. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.” he said finally, almost a whisper. Maybe if it was quiet enough it would lose some of its meaning. 

“Maybe I do.”  

The words hung. Suspended in the charged air between you. His fingers tightened on your thighs, the pressure enough to bruise, to stop himself from doing whatever it was he was thinking.  

“You’d let me ruin you.” he said, almost to himself. His teeth were back at your neck, scraping, testing, pushing just far enough to make you squirm. “You’d let me break you.”  

You shivered, but not from the cold. “If it’s you.” you whispered.  

The admission did something to him. Something inside snapped. He let out a low, guttural sound, his teeth sinking into the curve of your shoulder this time, harder than before. It still wasn’t enough to draw blood, but it was enough to leave a harsh mark, enough to make you cry out a sharp sound swallowed by the rain. You didn’t pull away.  

“Mine.” he growled, the word more animal than human, vibrating against your skin.  

“Yes.” you breathed.  

His hands slid up, pushing the soaked fabric of your dress higher, rough against the soft skin of your thighs. The cold metal of the bumper pressed harder into you as he pushed you back, as though trying to fuse you to it, to claim you entirely as his.  

“You don’t even know what you’ve done to me.” he said, his voice trembling with something you couldn’t name, something that sounded like destruction.  

“Show me.” you said, and this time, it wasn’t a dare. 

His lips found yours, hard and unrelenting, and the rain became a blur around you, a mere backdrop to the heat and desperation between you. The cold, the wet, the discomfort — it all disappeared. There was only him, his body against yours, his hands gripping, claiming, taking. And you let him.

“Here?” he asked, his voice low and rough, though there was a glint of hesitation in his eyes, like he was giving you one last chance to back out.  

“Here.” you answered, your voice firm despite the tremor in your chest.  

How could he have said no when you were practically begging him for it? When your body, drenched and trembling, leaned into his as if you couldn’t bear even an inch of space between you?  

His hands moved with little gentleness but an unmistakable care, trailing down your sides and gripping your thighs. He pushed you up onto the hood of the car, the wet metal slippery beneath you, and his fingers worked to shove the damp fabric of your dress higher, higher, and higher. It clung stubbornly to your skin, unwilling to let go. But so was he.  

You shivered as your bare thighs met the cold surface, body jolting at the contrast between the chill of it and the heat of his hands. His fingers slipped over the fabric still covering you. 

“All diluted.” he joked, a low rasp as he tugged at your underwear, his thumb pressing against the dampness he found there.  

You giggled, though the sound was shaky and short-lived. It was cut off abruptly when he changed his mind.  

“No.” he muttered, eyes turning hungry as he hooked his fingers into the fabric. “This won’t do.”  

Before you could ask what he meant, you felt the sharp pull of his nails digging in, the barrier giving way with a rip that echoed through the rain. Threads snapped and fabric tore until it was nothing but a useless shred in his hands.  

“Sorry.” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, though the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth told a different story.  

He wasn’t sorry.  

And you didn’t care.  

The cold air hit you first, sharp and biting, but then his hands were there, warm and insistent, gripping your thighs and spreading you open for him. His eyes dragged over you, unashamed and unhurried, like he wanted to make this moment last forever.  

“You’re perfect.” he said, his voice barely audible over the rain, and you believed him because, in that moment, under his gaze, you felt like you were.  

“Please.” you whispered, your voice breaking, your hands gripping the edge of the hood for balance as you tilted your hips toward him.  

He groaned low in his throat, his fingers digging into your thighs to stop himself from losing control entirely. But then he leaned in, his lips brushing against your knee, trailing kisses up the inside of your thigh.  

“You want me here?” he asked, his voice almost disbelieving, though his actions left no room for doubt.  

“I want you.” 

That was all it took.

He slipped some of himself into you, calculated savouring every second of your unraveling. One finger, slow and testing, just enough to coax a sharp intake of breath from you but not enough to satisfy.  

Then two.  

You bit your lip as the stretch began, a low whine escaping your throat. His pace remained infuriatingly measured, his fingers curling just slightly to press against the soft walls of you, exploring, learning. He was gentle enough that it didn’t hurt, but there was no mistaking the purpose behind his touch.  

Three.  

You gasped, your hips jerking involuntarily as he pushed deeper, the tightness unmistakable now. Your body gripped him like a vice, clinging to the intrusion, the resistance melting away under the weight of his insistence. The hood of the car beneath you was slippery with rain, and your hands scrabbled for purchase, nails scraping against the metal as he worked you open.  

“Fuck.” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “So tight. You feel that, don’t you? How you’re squeezing me?”  

You couldn’t answer, couldn’t even think, your head falling back as your chest rose and fell in uneven gasps.  

“Look at you.” he continued, somewhere between awe and possession. “You can barely take it, can you? And you want more.”  

“Please.” you whimpered.  

“Please what?” he pressed, his fingers thrusting a little harder now, enough to make your thighs tremble. “Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want.”  

“More.” you begged, your voice breaking.  

“More?” His smirk was audible, even if you couldn’t see it through the haze clouding your vision. “You’ve already got three. You think you can handle more?”  

“Yes, daddy.” you gasped, though your body said otherwise, the tightness around him making every movement a challenge.  

Four.  

The stretch was overwhelming, the fullness dizzying as he pushed his fingers down to the second knuckle. Your whines turned into desperate cries, your body trembling as he moved inside you, slow and methodical, testing your limits.  

“Jesus.” he breathed, watching you. “Look at the way you’re stretching for me. You’re gonna feel me for days after this.”  

Your hands flew to his hair, fingers weak and trembling as you tried to hold onto something — anything. But even that wasn’t enough. The tension was unbearable, the pleasure and the ache building to a point that made your grip falter, your nails barely grazing his scalp before slipping away.  

“Right there, aren’t you?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your clit with agonizing gentleness. “Right on the edge.”  

You nodded frantically, your breaths coming in short, desperate bursts.  

“Anything could push you over now, huh?” he said, his tone almost mocking, but there was a thread of pride in his voice, as if he relished in your helplessness. “Just the thought of me…just the thought of what I’m doing to you right now. That’s all it would take, isn’t it?”  

You whimpered, your head falling back as the tears spilled freely down your cheeks, mingling with the rain that still poured relentlessly around you.  

“Tears, too?” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost tender. He reached up with his free hand to brush a thumb across your cheek, smearing the mixture of rain and salt. “Baby…you’re so fucking pretty like this. So wrecked. So mine.”  

“Please.” you choked out, the word barely audible over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.  

“Please what?” he teased, his fingers curling inside you, pressing against that spot that made your entire body jerk.  

“M- mercy- slower-” you gasped.  

“Mercy?” he repeated, a low laugh rumbling in his chest. “Sweetheart, I haven’t even started yet.”  

He let his thumb dance over you, so achingly close to where you needed him most. The lightest touch, teasing, circling, pulling you apart without ever giving you enough to tip you over the edge. His other hand gripped your thigh, firm but unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to dismantle you.  

You squirmed, the wet metal of the car hood beneath you offering no relief, your back arching into his touch. “Please-” Fingers scrabbled at his shoulders for any kind of anchor.  

“Shh…” he soothed. “I’m watching, baby. Trying to figure out the best way to make you scream.”  

His thumb pressed down, finally giving you that sharp jolt of sensation. “Can you take it all for me?” he asked, his tone so…as if the question itself was sacred.  

You froze. Your eyes went wide, your body clenching instinctively at the threat of his words. Then you felt it — the pressure, weaving its way into you, stretching, burning. Sharp. That was the only word for it. Sharp, like a knife-edge slicing through every nerve.  

He pushed.  

“Fuck-” he gasped, his voice catching as he felt you opening for him. It was slow, agonizingly so, but you let him in. Inch by inch. “Al- Da-” you cried out, your voice cracking on the single syllables.  

“I know it hurts.” he said, his voice low and strained, every word thick with effort. “But you’re so good at taking it.”  

Your hands flew to his arms, gripping at his biceps as if to calm yourself, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing could be enough to counter the fullness, the unbearable tightness as he pushed further. Everything was still, save for the pattering of rain all around you. The storm’s rhythm matched the wild pounding of your heart, the chaotic rise and fall of your breaths.  

And you were all around him.  

He groaned, the sound rough and guttural, like it had been torn from somewhere deep. “Jesus…” he breathed, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. “You’re so tight. Fuck…you’re everywhere.”  

He couldn’t move, couldn’t even twitch a finger, the grip of you locking him in place. You whimpered, the sound high-pitched and desperate, your body trembling as you tried to adjust to the impossible stretch.  

Then, with a careful push, he slipped that last knuckle in.  

You screamed.  

The sound echoed into the storm, swallowed by the rain and the wind, leaving no one to hear but him.  

He stilled completely, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps as he watched you. Your head thrown back, your hair plastered to your face, your lips parted in a silent plea. Tears streamed down your cheeks continuously mingling with the rain, and he thought you had never looked more beautiful.  

“My baby…” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You’re incredible.”  

You wanted to grab onto something, anything, in the overwhelming sea of sensation, but every movement made his fist slip deeper, made you feel even fuller. Too full.  

“Please…” you begged, though you didn’t even know what you were asking for anymore. Release? Relief? Or more?  

“Shh, I’ve got you.” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “I’ve got you, baby. Just let me feel you. Let me have all of you.”  

You sobbed as he held you there, suspended in the perfect balance between pain and the sliver of pleasure. 

He thrust harder, his fist twisting just enough to press against every aching, raw nerve inside you. His other thumb pressed down firmly on your clit, a final push that shattered whatever fragile hold you had left.  

“That’s it.” he growled, watching you come apart beneath him. “Let me see it. Let me feel it.”  

Your body seized, your back arching violently off the hood of the car as the pleasure detonated inside you, radiating out like a pulse of fire and electricity. It was too much — your mind blanked, every thought drowned out by the overwhelming force of it. You screamed again, the sound torn from your throat as you shook, your legs trembling uncontrollably around him.  

“Fuck, there you go.” Strained. Triumphant. His hand stayed buried inside you, motionless now except for the slow, deliberate circles his thumb traced, coaxing out every last aftershock.  

He didn’t stop, didn’t ease up until you were completely spent, your thighs quivering and your chest heaving as you lay limp.  

Your nails dug into his forearms as you clung to him, gasping for air with the effort to catch your breath. “I-” you whimpered, but you couldn’t finish the thought, couldn’t form the words to tell him that it was too much, too sharp, too everything.  

“I know.” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost tender as he bent down to kiss the corner of your mouth. “You did so fucking good for me.”  

Slowly, he eased his thumb away from your clit, the absence a relief so intense it almost hurt. But his fist stayed where it was, the fullness still pressing against you, grounding you in the raw, undeniable reality of what you had just let him do to you.  

He shifted slightly, his free hand stroking your trembling thigh in what might have been an attempt to soothe you — or maybe just to feel you, to remind himself that you were real, that you were his. “Still with me, sweetie?” he asked, the edge of a smile in it.  

You nodded weakly, your head falling back against the rain-slick hood, limp and boneless beneath him. “I…I’m here.” you whispered. 

“Good.” he said, and you felt his hand begin to move again, slow and careful now, easing back out of you with a patience that felt at odds with the intensity of what had just happened.  

Every inch of withdrawal sent a new wave of sensation rippling through you — less pain now, more of a dull ache, a lingering reminder of how completely he had stretched and filled you.  

When he finally pulled free, you let out a shaky breath, your body shuddering at the loss. He lifted his hand, slick and glistening in the dim light, and for a moment, he just looked at it — looked at the proof of what he had done to you, of what you had let him do. He met your gaze as he licked the fingers clean, his eyes dark and burning.  

“Perfect.” he said. “You’re fucking perfect…beautiful.” he murmured, more to himself than to you, before he leaned down to kiss you again.

It was all a blur, a haze of heat and sensation, until the sharp noise of his belt being undone cut through it. Your eyes fluttered open, the sound pulling you back into the moment, and there he was — towering over you, his hand already freeing himself from the confines of his pants.  

“I can’t.” you murmured, voice hoarse and barely audible, as you felt the hard, heavy weight of him press against you. The rain still pattered softly around you, a stark contrast to the chaotic rhythm of your heart.  

“You can’t?” he repeated, his voice dripping with amusement as he tilted his head, studying your flushed, trembling form beneath him.  

“Not inside, Daddy.” you said, your hand reaching down instinctively to wrap around his cock. The heat of him against your palm made you shiver, and when you looked up at him, your eyes met his. It hurt, the intensity of his gaze, like it was burning straight through you.  

“Not inside?” he echoed, mockingly this time, his lips curling into a slow, dark smile. He leaned closer, his face inches from yours, his breath warm against your rain-dampened skin. “Baby, you don’t know what you’re saying at this point.”  

His hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling your grip away with ease. You whimpered, but he didn’t let go, holding your hand up against the slick metal as he pressed himself against your entrance.  

“That’s not a decision for you to make.” he said, laced with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re too little for that.”  

Before you could protest, before you could even process his words, he pushed forward, slipping past the initial resistance and burying himself inside of you in one smooth motion. You gasped, arching up into him as the stretch stole the air from your lungs. He groaned, low and guttural, his hand gripping your hip to keep you in place as he filled you completely.  

The moment he pushed inside, he paused, his breath catching in his throat as he stilled completely. The sensation was overwhelming — tight, hot, and impossibly wet from both you and the rain-soaked remnants of your dress. He stayed there, buried to the hilt, just feeling you, and his lips parted as a quiet groan escaped.  

“You’re all loose now.” he said. 

You winced at the comment, your hands reflexively grabbing at his forearms, and he leaned down to press a kiss against your temple, murmuring softly, “It’s okay. That’s a good thing, baby. You’re perfect.”  

But in his mind, it wasn’t that simple. He could feel it. His effect on you, the way your body had adapted to take him, to yield to him, no matter how much it stretched or hurt. The possessive thrill that he both savored and loathed. He was ruining you, he knew that. Every thrust, every bruise, every time he pushed you past what you thought you could take — it was all carving his mark deeper into you, ensuring that no one else could ever touch you without you thinking of him.  

And that was the point, wasn’t it? To ruin you for anyone else. To ruin you even for yourself. He wanted to own you, body and soul, to take you apart and rebuild you into something that belonged only to him. It was selfish and cruel, but the idea of anyone else seeing you like this, of anyone else being the one to coax those desperate sounds from your lips — it drove him mad.  

“Now…” he said, his voice a dark purr as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Be a good doll and hush. We’re going to fill this cute tummy, okay?”  

He started to move again. Slow. So slow. His hands gripped your hips, thumbs brushing over the soft skin there as he rocked into you, each thrust deeper than the last.  

Tears welled in your eyes again, blurring your vision, but he kissed them away, his lips warm and soft against your cheeks. “No more crying, baby.” he murmured, another thrust sending a jolt of sensation through your already-overwhelmed body.  

“I’m right here.” he said, his hands sliding up to cradle your face as he looked down at you. “You’re mine, and I’m going to take care of you. Just like this. You’re mine.” His gaze traveled over your face. The rain made your skin glisten, and your eyes were wide and glassy, your lips parted as you gasped for air. “You’re mine, and I’ll never let you forget it.”  

You whimpered beneath him, the sound pulling him back from his thoughts, and he leaned down to press his forehead against yours.  

“It’s okay.” he whispered again. “I’ve got you.”  

He shifted slightly, angling his hips to hit deeper, and you cried out, as your nails dug into his shoulders. He let you. ‘Cause the feeling of you clenching around him, the way your body seemed to draw him in with every thrust — it was almost too much in itself  

“You’re so good for me.” he said as his movements grew more urgent. “So good, taking me like this. Letting me have you.”  

His hand slid down to your lower belly, pressing lightly, “Feel that? That’s me. All the way inside you. Filling you up, just like I said I would.”  

“Please.” you gasped, though you weren’t sure what you were begging for anymore.  

“I know, baby.” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours as he picked up his pace. “I know. I know. Just hold on to me. I’ll take care of you. Stay with me.”  

Caught between the intensity of the moment and the darker truths lurking beneath it, he drifted. He was ruining you, yes — but he was ruining himself too. Every time he pushed you to the edge, every time he made you cry out his name, he felt himself slipping further, becoming more dependent on the way you made him feel. Alive. 

He didn’t know where it would end, or if it even could. But for now, he didn’t care. For now, there was only you, beneath him, around him, completely his.

The sound of your desperate plea — “Please, sir. I can’t take it anymore” — only seemed to spur him further, his grip tightening as if to remind you just how powerless you were beneath him. His thrusts didn’t slow. If anything, they became sharper, driving home the weight of his control. The grin on his face stretched wider, cruel and unrelenting, and the way his cock dragged against your swollen, sensitive walls made you shudder all the way to your core.  

“You know better than that, lovey.” he said. His hips slammed into yours, making the hood beneath you groan in protest. “Daddy doesn’t stop until he’s finished.”  

No room for negotiation. Tears welled in your eyes, not just from the intensity but from the utter inevitability of it all. He wasn’t going to stop. Not until he’d claimed every inch of you.  

“Don’t you wanna make me happy?” he asked, mockingly sweet. His free hand gripped your thigh, forcing it higher, spreading you wider for him. “Hmm? Don’t you wanna make Daddy feel good?” A sharp cry tore from your throat as he buried himself even deeper. “Shoving my babies inside you.” he hissed. “Turning you into my slut. My pathetic, fucked-out little toy.”  

The shame twisted with the heat building, a wildfire you couldn’t extinguish no matter how overwhelming it became. He watched you like a predator with its prey, his eyes locked on every tremble, every gasp, every broken sound you made. You were utterly undone and he relished it.  

“So fucking pretty like this.” he murmured, almost as if he were speaking to himself, his voice tinged with awe and cruelty. “A cum-stained little thing, all worn out while I’m still using you.”  

Your body went limp, your muscles too weak to fight the sensations coursing through you. He filled you so completely that it felt like there was no space left for anything else — not air, not thought. Just him. His cock stretched you past the point of pain, past pleasure, into a place where the two blurred together into something indescribable.  

“Can you feel it, baby? Feel how I’m ruining you?” His thrusts slowed, deliberate and torturous, as if he wanted you to truly understand the effect he was having on you. “You’ll never be the same after this. No one else will ever fit, ever make you feel like this.”  

You whimpered, your head spinning, tears streaking down your face to mix with the rain that soaked both of you. He tilted his head to watch you, his expression darkening with every whimper and gasp you gave him.  

“Don’t you worry, princess.” he murmured. “Daddy’s almost done.”  

Even as he said it, you knew he wasn’t. This wasn’t just about finishing — it was about taking, about claiming, about making sure you were his in every way imaginable. You came to realise you wouldn’t have it any other way. You were his. Completely. There was no going back.

You felt him losing himself inside you, the sharp edges of his control softening as he surrendered to the heat. Each movement pushed you further into the metal beneath you, cool and unyielding against your flushed, overheated skin.  

“You feel that?” he rasped, his voice cracking under the weight of desire. His hand slipped to grip your jaw, forcing your face up so you couldn’t escape his gaze. “Feel how deep I am, how much of me you’re taking?”  

Your voice was gone, stolen by the relentless pace and the way he seemed to claim every inch of you. All you could do was nod as you clung to him.  

“Good girl.” he growled, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “Taking it so well. Taking me so fucking well. I’m gonna fill you up.” he promised. “Shove my cum so deep inside you, you won’t be able to think of anything else. Just me. Just this.”  

You were too far gone to process anything but the pressure and the way he filled you. It felt like you might break.  

“Look at me.” he demanded. “Look at me while I take you.”  

You opened your eyes, the effort taking everything you had, and the sight of him — wild, unrestrained, face twisted with pleasure — nearly sent you over the edges of consciousness.  

“You’re mine.” possessive and tender all at once. “You’ll always be mine.”  

His hips slammed into yours one final time, and he froze, his body tensing as he spilled into you. His head fell to your shoulder, teeth grazing your skin as he bit down, muffling the groan that escaped his lips. Overwhelming and inescapable.  

“Fuck…” he cursed, his voice raw and breathless. His teeth released your shoulder, lips trailing over the indentations as if to soothe the sting. “You feel that, baby? Feel how full you are?”  

You nodded weakly.  

He stayed inside you for a moment longer, his breath slowing, his hands tracing over your damp skin. Finally, he pulled out, the loss of him leaving you aching and empty.

“Such a good girl.” His hand brushed over your cheek, wiping away the tears that still clung to your lashes. “You did so good for me.”  

You whimpered in response, your body too spent to do anything else.  

“Come here.” he said, pulling you into his arms, cradling you against his chest. “I’ve got you, princess. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”  

You believed him.

The water was warm, but it didn’t soothe the ache deep in your body. You shifted slightly, wincing as the motion pulled at tender spots, but you said nothing. He was there, kneeling beside the tub, his hands resting on the porcelain edge. His face was unreadable, his gaze fixed on the water rippling around you.  

He hadn’t said much since he carried you here. The silence hung heavy between you, thick with something unspoken.  

“Alexander?” you broke the quiet, your voice soft and uncertain.  

“Mm?” His eyes flicked to yours, the sharpness in them dulled, but not gone.  

“Are you feeling better?”  

That pulled a laugh from him — short, bitter, and almost incredulous. He shook his head, looking down at the floor as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.  

“Me?” he said, finally meeting your gaze. His mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile, wasn’t quite a sneer. “God, you’re too filthy to still act so innocent. It almost pains me.”  

You blinked, the words sinking into you like stones, but you didn’t flinch. You didn’t shrink away from him.  

“I’m not acting.” you said quietly, watching him carefully. 

That made him pause. His fingers tightened around the edge of the tub, his knuckles whitening. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something, to argue, but the words never came.  

You reached out, your wet hand brushing against his, and he stilled under your touch.  

“I’m not.” you repeated, more firmly this time.  

His jaw clenched, the muscles ticking as he stared at your hand. His skin was warm, rough beneath your fingertips. You wanted to tell him it was okay. That you were okay. But you knew he wouldn’t believe you.  

“You’re asking if I’m feeling better.” he said finally. “After everything I just did to you.”  

You tilted your head, studying him. “I wanted it.”  

His laugh came again, harsher this time. “You don’t even know what you want.”  

“Don’t I?” you challenged, your hand slipping up to cover his entirely. His fingers twitched beneath yours, but he didn’t pull away.  

“No.” he said, but the word sounded hollow, lacking conviction. “You don’t.”

You leaned back against the edge, closer, your eyes never leaving his. “I do.”  

His gaze darkened, and for a moment, you thought he might stand, might walk away. But he didn’t. He leaned closer too, his face inches from yours, his hand still trapped beneath yours. He liked you.

“Then tell me.” he said. “What do you want?”  

“I want you.” you said without hesitation.  

He flinched, the reaction so small you almost missed it. But it was there.  

“You shouldn’t.” he murmured, his voice so quiet it was almost drowned out by the soft sloshing of the water.  

“But I do.” you said, leaning forward slightly. “And I won’t apologize for it.”  

His eyes searched yours, looking for something — doubt, fear, regret. He found none.  

“You’re a fool.” he said. There was no malice in the words this time. No fooling.

“Maybe.” you said with a faint smile. “But so are you, Alexander.”  

That earned a ghost of a smile from him, fleeting but real. He sighed, his free hand lifting to brush a strand of wet hair from your face.  

“You’re incredibly difficult for me to…to understand. Very stubborn little girl.” he said, shaking his head.  

“You’re annoying.” you countered. “And handsome.” 

His hand lingered against your cheek, his thumb tracing a path down to your jaw. “I don’t deserve you.” he said, so soft it was almost lost.  

“I…probably.” you said, leaning into his touch. “But I don’t care. You’re going to be the death of me.” you whispered.

His thumb stilled against your skin, and he let out a long, shaky breath. Then he chuckled. And then he stopped.

The silence between you deepened after his bitter laugh, the sound still lingering like smoke in the air. You didn’t pull your hand away from his, though you half-expected him to wrench his away. Instead, his fingers remained under yours, tense but unmoving.  

He looked down at your hand, water droplets slipping from your fingertips onto his skin, the contrast between you stark. The stillness of his hand beneath yours spoke volumes. He was holding himself back. From what, you weren’t entirely sure. From hurting you again, or from holding you tighter than he thought you could bear?  

“You really shouldn’t be here.” he said at last. It didn’t come from a place of anger — it was something heavier from deep inside him.  

“I should.” you said softly. 

Undefiant or pleading.

Just true.  

“You don’t understand.” 

“I understand more than you think.” you replied, your hand pressing down just slightly on his, comforting him — or maybe yourself.  

He scoffed, but it was half-hearted. “You think you do, but you don’t. You think this…” His free hand gestured vaguely between you. “You think this is something you can survive unscathed. But it’s not.”

“Do you want me to?” you asked, steady despite the way your heart hammered against your ribs.  

His lips parted as if to answer, but no sound came out. He swallowed hard, darting back down to your hand with his eyes. You could feel his pulse under your fingers, fast and uneven.  

“I don’t know. I don’t know…I don’t know what I want. I only know what I…need.”

Heavier than the steam, heavier than the tension.  

“What do you need?” 

“I need you.” he said, the words coming out raw, unfiltered, for once. “But not in the way you think. Not in the way anyone should.”

You should have been afraid. You should have pulled back, let the water swallow you whole and keep you from his reach. But you didn’t.  

“You already have me.” you said, even as your heart raced.  

His head dipped slightly, his hair falling into his face, hiding his expression. But his hand, the one beneath yours, turned palm up, his fingers curling slightly to brush against your wet skin.  

“You say that like it’s a good thing.” he murmured.  

“It is.” you said.  

He shook his head, bitterness tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re so naive.” He let out a soft, humorless laugh. His thumb brushed over the edge of the tub, trailing through the water. He didn’t look at you now, his gaze fixed on the ripples his movement caused.  

“Do you ever think about drowning?” he asked suddenly.  

The question caught you off guard, but you didn’t flinch. “No.” you said honestly. “Do you?”

“All the time.” he admitted. "Not the act of it. Not the- the struggle. Just…the quiet after. The stillness.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you stayed silent. Your hand moved slightly, your fingers brushing against his palm, and he let you.  

“It’s not a metaphor.” he added after a moment, as if he expected you to misunderstand. “It’s just…peace. An end to all the noise.”

“Is that what I am to you?” you asked quietly. “Noise?”

“No.” It came with a frown added to his face. “You’re the only thing that’s quiet.”

“Then why do you push me away?” 

“Because you’re also the loudest thing I’ve ever known,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “You’re everything. You’re too much.”

“Then let me be too much.” 

He didn’t answer, but his hand turned fully, his fingers lacing with yours, holding on like you were the only thing keeping him afloat.  

Neither of you spoke after that. 

a/n: I don’t know what to add🧍

[blvvdk3ep]

I don't know if this is just a Twitter phenomenon, but I am sick of some IWTV fans acting like those who identify Lestat as being abusive are being dramatic or misreading the show. Lestat's villainy intersects racial and supernatural lines; every power he has over Louis, physically or societally, he subtly uses to lure him in and to control him. He's a fantastic character precisely because he's charismatic, beautifully polished, thoughtful, and passionate, but also cruel, hiding a profound ugliness, so deranged about love it turns around into something monstrous, capable of unthinkable violence towards those he loves. And the first set of traits (are used by him to) disguise the second set. He's obviously purposefully written like that and dismissing that is doing the writers a disservice. They wrote an amazing fucking character, and he's selfish, manipulative, and yes, abusive to Louis and Claudia, and he's so cleverly written that even at his most cruel when he gets what he deserves, you can't help but feel just a little bit sorry for him. Ignoring that brilliance just to unironically uwu softboy he never did anything wrong babygirlify him is soooo lame sorry

[crowlixcx]

Please god please HOW WAS MACBETH

Okay bestie lets get into it!! Obvs it's...literally Macbeth lol so I doubt i'm spoiling the plot for anyone here however if anyone reading this does have tickets and doesn't want to know anything about staging etc i suggest u avert your eyes now

Anon babes it was marvellous. David was so commanding?? he's built like a string bean but when he was up on stage he looked BIG and powerful. The character development was so nuanced, the descent into madness was manic and chaotic but eventually steady and calm - he literally snapped a little boys neck with his bare hands in the battle scene it was gruesome. I've seen one too many productions of Macbeth where its pretty much all pinned on Lady Macbeth being the brains behind the operation but it was very obvious from the start of this production that Macbeth had plenty of malicious thoughts and intentions of his own. He needed a little bit of convincing from LM but obviously your average person cannot be coerced into murder lol this man was out for blood from the START. Cush Jumbo was DIVINE and the perfect enabler, their chemistry was spicy and sensual and I loved it. They changed the script so that LM visits Lady MacDuff before the latter is murdered and its sooo good it makes Lady Macbeth so much more 3 dimensional rather than the usual evil witchy woman, it makes her human and Jumbo portrays her beautifully. It really was exciting for the production to be so intimate. The Donmar is a LOVELY black box theatre not many seats at all so you're very close to the action. This is my 5th time seeing DT on stage (prev. Much Ado About Nothing, Richard II, Don Juan in Soho & Good) and they've all been at big venues so it felt very different. The use of headphones was soooo good and it helped them keep the pace of the show (it was 1hr50 with no interval). Rather than dramatic asides like in the script the actors could whisper and it was RIGHT in your ear which made it feel very personal and dark like you were really in the character's heads. You never saw any of the visions (the dagger, the witches, banquo's ghost) which is how i always prefer it to be portrayed personally because you know... they're not actually there this man is just guilty AF and losing his grasp on reality!! But the sound effects they used in these moments were verrrry good and helped set the scene, lots of spooky music and sounds of screaming and whispering etc. And just generally through out the production you heard every. single. word. because of the headphones which was just delicious.

Final note because when u came into my inbox u were probably just expecting a simple 'yeah i really enjoyed it!!' and instead i've written a mini essay BUT in the battle scene at the end David really did win the award for most agile man in his 50s, he head-butt like 4 people and i was like...damn boy can u come over and fight me some time