#the higher we soar

[itsnotzka]

Fancy reading my original story? ;)

Without revealing too much, it's a very character-driven, slow-burn(ish), bitter-sweet romance story centered around self-discovery, with music and movies playing a significant role in the background :)

If you want to give it a go, you can read The Higher We Soar here (I'm currently sharing it on Wattpad, as I, unfortunately, haven't found a better alternative...). The first three chapters are already published (and it always will be free :))

You can also read the prologue below ⬇︎

You should never expect too much from Tuesdays. They're like the middle children of the week—less demanding than Mondays, less depressing than Wednesdays, but definitely not as fun as Fridays. Tuesdays quietly go about their business, neither imposing nor exhilarating.

As usual, I didn't have high hopes for that particular Tuesday either. It was one of those days that seemed to slip from memory almost as soon as it happened, no matter how much I wracked my brain to recall it.

The weather? If someone had told me there was the worst snowstorm of the century on that day, I would have readily accepted their claim without a single question. If I had read somewhere that it was the hottest day of the year, I would have simply nodded in agreement. I couldn't even tell you whether I decided to take a bus, a tram, or maybe I just, quite merrily, took a walk to the studio.

All those details somehow simply left my mind, overshadowed by one seemingly insignificant, and quite short encounter. Nothing remained the same after that fateful, yet somehow very ordinary, casual Tuesday morning.

Like a clueless fool, I failed to sense the impending, monumental shift in my life—a weird, terrifying, passionate avalanche that, in retrospect, seemed glaringly obvious and impossible to miss from the beginning, no matter how hard you might try... Yet, I did.

Before I delve further, you should know that I've never really liked interns.

It's not a sentiment I'm particularly proud of, as I despise prejudice in any form. My dislike isn't rooted in any of my antisocial tendencies; in fact, I generally find it quite easy to connect with people, especially in the music industry. 

But I never really liked interns.

Their enthusiasm often comes across as superficial, and I can't stand it when they ask what to do, only to neglect the tasks I give them. I don't don't like when they think they have it all, believing they are more knowledgeable than anyone else around the studio, despite never having composed a single piece of music in their lives. I don't like how, before I can even properly learn their names or discover their strengths, they vanish without a trace, leaving behind a mess of equipment they weren't supposed to touch in the first place.

I also don't like when interns assume I'm just one of them.

It's a frustrating realization, mainly because, begrudgingly, they have the right to do that. After all, most of them are just a tad younger than me. Who could blame them?

That seemed to be the case with most interns. Except for one notable exception.

It didn't take long for me to notice that one individual stood out from the rest of the pack. Slightly older than the typical interns we usually had, he possessed a remarkable ability to effortlessly connect with people of all ages and ranks—spanning from the youngest staff members to seasoned audio engineers and even the senior employees of our cleaning crew. He had this certain level of cheerfulness and genuine interest that set him apart, a stark contrast to the usual ennui seen among interns I knew.

Right. First things first, though.

The scene: Early spring. A typical Tuesday morning just a little past ten o'clock.

I found myself in the live room, brimming with anticipation to finally record the first version of my demo, or at least my initial idea for one. But as luck would have it, nothing seemed to align with my plans. True to form, the interns had left a chaotic mess in their wake, leaving me with the arduous task of tidying up before I could even begin to think about diving into my creative process.

I let out a sigh of frustration, futilely rummaging through the clutter in search of a balanced cable before all my inspiration gone to waste. And that's precisely when the blonde intern came into the room, flashing his straight, pearly white teeth at me.

"Oh, hey. Hand me that boom stand, eh?" I gestured towards the stand, hoping to deal the cleanup process faster.

Weirdly enough, he sauntered over to me joyfully, yet his hands were conspicuously empty. It took a few moments for the realization to dawn on me, and when I turned my head to him, there he was, meeting my gaze with a cheerful twinkle in his light brown eyes, smiling at me with the sincerity of a five-year-old child.

"Hello? The boom stand, please?" I reiterated, juggling a handful of cables, none of them the balanced one I desperately needed, and gesturing towards the frustratingly out-of-reach metal stand.

"Oh, you're talking about this thing!" he exclaimed, as if my words had just registered. With a sudden burst of energy, he hastily retrieved the boom stand and brought it over to me. "Here you go."

I shot him a skeptical look as he nonchalantly slipped his hands into the pockets of his well-worn cardigan—a piece of clothing that might have been deemed unwearable by most, yet it somehow suited him perfectly. In an oddly charming way, it emitted a subtle bohemian vibe, and I couldn't help but imagine it gracing the runway of some avant-garde fashion show, although my knowledge of fashion was rather limited.

"Do you want to tell me you didn't know what a boom stand is?" I dared to ask, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Yeah, sorry..." he prudishly feigned embarrassment, though it was evident that he didn't feel particularly bad about it. "I had no clue what you were talking about."

I eyed him inquisitively, suspecting the worst but needing confirmation. "What about a shock mount? Can you pass me that, then?"

He tilted his head and subtly pursed his lips, as if I had switched to an entirely different, foreign language he couldn't comprehend. Utterly astonished, I pointed to the nearby, star-shaped object, and his eyes widened in realization.

"Oh... that's a shock mount? Well, I had no idea about that, either," he admitted, seemingly unfazed by his lack of knowledge, with no intention of handing me the item. In response, I spread my hands and cast him a puzzled, inquisitive look, to which he simply responded with another chuckle.

"Let me be honest with you, okay?" he shrugged once more, entirely at ease. "I know nothing about making music or any of this equipment..."

"Are you shitting me?" I blurted out, dropping the cables from my hands in sheer disbelief. "In that case, I have no idea why you're even here. How on earth did you manage to land this internship in a scoring studio?"

The smirk never left his lips, his eyes twinkling with joy, as if he wasn't even aware that I considered firing him during his very first week on the job. Well, I couldn't actually fire him. I could ask someone else to do it for me.

"What can I say?" he offered another smile, his eyes mirroring the same cheerfulness. Even his bohemian gray cardigan seemed uncharacteristically cheerful as he spoke. "I aced the job interview. Sophie, that gal who interviewed me, seemed to really like me. She was very sure I'd be a great fit here!"

"That gal?" I repeated with a scoff... and a smile. "You mean Sophie, the producer? One of the most important people around here? If not the most important one?"

He nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "The very same."

"Right. Sophie and her desire to change the whole world for the better..." I remarked, my tone laced with sarcasm that he simply chose to ignore.

There. My proof. 

That was the reason why I never really liked interns. He should have said something to make me believe he was taking it seriously, shouldn't he? He should have been embarrassed, he should have shown me his willingness to learn everything as quickly as possible, he should have tried to help me set everything up faster. But he didn't. Instead, he didn't take his eyes off me for a second, making me uncomfortable. It was as if looking at me like that was the most normal and ordinary thing in the world for him — as if it was our hundredth talk. No shyness. No awkwardness on his part. No guilt whatsoever.

"I don't know if I have time for your incompetence, then. I have things to do here, and they have to be done well," I finally stated, trying hard to maintain eye contact.

After all, I was supposed to be the more competent one, not him. Yet, inexplicably, I suddenly felt as though I were the intern, and he was the one showing me the ropes, not the other way around.

He hummed, faintly amused, as if I had cracked a half-hearted joke. "Come on... you only need to be more specific about what you want me to do. I can handle anything with clear instructions. I'm a very quick learner, you know?"

I found myself smiling as he began to lecture me on how to handle an intern like him. In fact, I burst into unexpected laughter—not at his expense, but because I couldn't believe his extraordinary gullibility.

No, gullibility was definitely not the right word. It was more like... certainty. An unwavering, absolute conviction that everything, always, would unfold just as he anticipated, with ease, enjoyment, and no difficulties whatsoever. There was no room for doubt. Moreover, it felt as if it wasn't because he wanted it to be that way, but because the universe, it seemed, had an uncanny knack for bending space and time just to make him smile.

"Let's see. Do you even know what I do here?" I asked, not with impatience anymore, but with genuine curiosity.

"Hey, I'm not that dense," he scoffed, then added a bit unsure, "You're a composer, right? Or am I mixing something up..."

I laughed and nodded in confirmation. His smile held a touch of embarrassment, a genuine one this time.

"You're not. I am a composer. So tell me one more thing, if you don't know anything about making music, why do you even want to work here?" I asked, finally bringing the shock mount closer and starting to set the microphone next to the piano.

He sighed, falling into deep thought for a brief moment before finally responding, "I think you're asking the wrong questions here. Why wouldn't I want to give it a try? It's fascinating. Besides, I'm a huge movie buff and you're making scores. I feel like I can rest my case here."

"Oh, yeah? Your love for movies? You think that's enough?"

"Uh-huh," he nodded, casually picking up the cables I dropped before, "Well, that would be more than enough if we were in an actual movie, wouldn't it?"

"Well, we're not, though," I chuckled, "We're not even in some poorly written novel. Life's quite different from the movies, especially if you know how they're made."

He hummed once more, a quiet laugh escaping his throat as he gave me another intrigued look.

"You think so? I think it all depends on your point of view..." he said with such conviction, as if everything really depended solely on that.

I shook my head in amusement and, unintentionally, found myself agreeing with him.

"Hey, I think I didn't catch your name before..." I said, a little troubled by the fact that despite Sophie repeating the names of all five interns for a week, I couldn't remember any of them.

"Oh, I'm Maddox. At your service!" he replied, his smile widening even further. "People usually call me Maddie, though."

"Really? Do they ever call you Madd?" I quipped. "Maybe that suits you better?"

A spark flickered in his eyes, then chuckled, "I've heard that one before... But sure. I can be Madd for you."

By then, I was laughing opelny, and I forgot about the mess around us.

It surprised me that he didn't ask for my name, and I decided not to give it away. I wasn't sure if he already knew it; he hadn't mentioned it even once that day. It seemed my name just... didn't matter to him back then. He struck me as someone very curious about the world and everything around him, yet for some reason, I didn't really seem to be one of those matters.

Like many things, it didn't bother me much, though.

After that Tuesday morning, marked by a string of mishaps that he effortlessly remedied with a perfect blend of enthusiasm, interest, and clever comments, a tad too clever for just an intern, we didn't teally talk for a few weeks.

Throughout the initial month of his three-month internship, our encounters were fleeting, lacking any real depth or substanc. Yet, I knew, there was an unspoken acknowledgment of each other's presence that hung in the air, like a perfectly fitting soundtrack playing in the background—barely noticeable, yet undeniably there.

I was busy with my projects that weren't going as well as I wanted them to. He, on the other hand, was busy surpassing almost all expectations, learning things at an astonishing pace, and effortlessly charming everyone he encountered. At least that's what I had heard from my co-workers, and from Sophie. He worked mainly under her, after all.

Every now and then though, I'd catch a glimpse of his eyes, squarely directed at me, particularly when I was on my way to the break room in search of my caffeine salvation. Sometimes, amidst the chaos of the studio, I'd hear his laughter, his rather melodic voice rising above the cacophony of others, as I struggled to maintain my focus on the stubborn music sheets in front of me. I quickly noticed he was quite the conversationalist, engaging in lively discussions with anyone willing to participate. Yet, our interactions rarely extended beyond a simple exchange of greetings, such as a casual 'hello' or 'how are you?'

That didn't bother me, either. Well, it didn't bother me at the beginning.

Everything always seems different at the beginning, doesn't it?

#it just helps me survive #all of my silly things do #original story #original work #original fiction #original writing #women writers #female writers #my writing #original characters #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writing #writerscommunity #the higher we soar #slow burn #self discovery

[postersbykeith]

#quotes #Friedrich Nietzche #higher we soar #smaller we appear #those who cannot fly

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Tesla's Dieselgate

Elon Musk lies a lot. He lies about being a “utopian socialist.” He lies about being a “free speech absolutist.” He lies about which companies he founded:

https://www.businessinsider.com/tesla-cofounder-martin-eberhard-interview-history-elon-musk-ev-market-2023-2 He lies about being the “chief engineer” of those companies:

https://www.quora.com/Was-Elon-Musk-the-actual-engineer-behind-SpaceX-and-Tesla

He lies about really stupid stuff, like claiming that comsats that share the same spectrum will deliver steady broadband speeds as they add more users who each get a narrower slice of that spectrum:

https://www.eff.org/wp/case-fiber-home-today-why-fiber-superior-medium-21st-century-broadband

The fundamental laws of physics don’t care about this bullshit, but people do. The comsat lie convinced a bunch of people that pulling fiber to all our homes is literally impossible — as though the electrical and phone lines that come to our homes now were installed by an ancient, lost civilization. Pulling new cabling isn’t a mysterious art, like embalming pharaohs. We do it all the time. One of the poorest places in America installed universal fiber with a mule named “Ole Bub”:

https://www.newyorker.com/tech/annals-of-technology/the-one-traffic-light-town-with-some-of-the-fastest-internet-in-the-us

Previous tech barons had “reality distortion fields,” but Musk just blithely contradicts himself and pretends he isn’t doing so, like a budget Steve Jobs. There’s an entire site devoted to cataloging Musk’s public lies:

https://elonmusk.today/

But while Musk lacks the charm of earlier Silicon Valley grifters, he’s much better than they ever were at running a long con. For years, he’s been promising “full self driving…next year.”

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

He’s hasn’t delivered, but he keeps claiming he has, making Teslas some of the deadliest cars on the road:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2023/06/10/tesla-autopilot-crashes-elon-musk/

Tesla is a giant shell-game masquerading as a car company. The important thing about Tesla isn’t its cars, it’s Tesla’s business arrangement, the Tesla-Financial Complex:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/11/24/no-puedo-pagar-no-pagara/#Rat

Once you start unpacking Tesla’s balance sheets, you start to realize how much the company depends on government subsidies and tax-breaks, combined with selling carbon credits that make huge, planet-destroying SUVs possible, under the pretense that this is somehow good for the environment:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/14/for-sale-green-indulgences/#killer-analogy

But even with all those financial shenanigans, Tesla’s got an absurdly high valuation, soaring at times to 1600x its profitability:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/15/hoover-calling/#intangibles

That valuation represents a bet on Tesla’s ability to extract ever-higher rents from its customers. Take Tesla’s batteries: you pay for the battery when you buy your car, but you don’t own that battery. You have to rent the right to use its full capacity, with Tesla reserving the right to reduce how far you go on a charge based on your willingness to pay:

https://memex.craphound.com/2017/09/10/teslas-demon-haunted-cars-in-irmas-path-get-a-temporary-battery-life-boost/

That’s just one of the many rent-a-features that Tesla drivers have to shell out for. You don’t own your car at all: when you sell it as a used vehicle, Tesla strips out these features you paid for and makes the next driver pay again, reducing the value of your used car and transfering it to Tesla’s shareholders:

https://www.theverge.com/2020/2/6/21127243/tesla-model-s-autopilot-disabled-remotely-used-car-update

To maintain this rent-extraction racket, Tesla uses DRM that makes it a felony to alter your own car’s software without Tesla’s permission. This is the root of all autoenshittification:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

This is technofeudalism. Whereas capitalists seek profits (income from selling things), feudalists seek rents (income from owning the things other people use). If Telsa were a capitalist enterprise, then entrepreneurs could enter the market and sell mods that let you unlock the functionality in your own car:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/06/11/1-in-3/#boost-50

But because Tesla is a feudal enterprise, capitalists must first secure permission from the fief, Elon Musk, who decides which companies are allowed to compete with him, and how.

Once a company owns the right to decide which software you can run, there’s no limit to the ways it can extract rent from you. Blocking you from changing your device’s software lets a company run overt scams on you. For example, they can block you from getting your car independently repaired with third-party parts.

But they can also screw you in sneaky ways. Once a device has DRM on it, Section 1201 of the DMCA makes it a felony to bypass that DRM, even for legitimate purposes. That means that your DRM-locked device can spy on you, and because no one is allowed to explore how that surveillance works, the manufacturer can be incredibly sloppy with all the personal info they gather:

https://www.cnbc.com/2019/03/29/tesla-model-3-keeps-data-like-crash-videos-location-phone-contacts.html

All kinds of hidden anti-features can lurk in your DRM-locked car, protected from discovery, analysis and criticism by the illegality of bypassing the DRM. For example, Teslas have a hidden feature that lets them lock out their owners and summon a repo man to drive them away if you have a dispute about a late payment:

https://tiremeetsroad.com/2021/03/18/tesla-allegedly-remotely-unlocks-model-3-owners-car-uses-smart-summon-to-help-repo-agent/

DRM is a gun on the mantlepiece in Act I, and by Act III, it goes off, revealing some kind of ugly and often dangerous scam. Remember Dieselgate? Volkswagen created a line of demon-haunted cars: if they thought they were being scrutinized (by regulators measuring their emissions), they switched into a mode that traded performance for low emissions. But when they believed themselves to be unobserved, they reversed this, emitting deadly levels of NOX but delivering superior mileage.

The conversion of the VW diesel fleet into mobile gas-chambers wouldn’t have been possible without DRM. DRM adds a layer of serious criminal jeopardy to anyone attempting to reverse-engineer and study any device, from a phone to a car. DRM let Apple claim to be a champion of its users’ privacy even as it spied on them from asshole to appetite:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Now, Tesla is having its own Dieselgate scandal. A stunning investigation by Steve Stecklow and Norihiko Shirouzu for Reuters reveals how Tesla was able to create its own demon-haunted car, which systematically deceived drivers about its driving range, and the increasingly desperate measures the company turned to as customers discovered the ruse:

https://www.reuters.com/investigates/special-report/tesla-batteries-range/

The root of the deception is very simple: Tesla mis-sells its cars by falsely claiming ranges that those cars can’t attain. Every person who ever bought a Tesla was defrauded.

But this fraud would be easy to detect. If you bought a Tesla rated for 353 miles on a charge, but the dashboard range predictor told you that your fully charged car could only go 150 miles, you’d immediately figure something was up. So your Telsa tells another lie: the range predictor tells you that you can go 353 miles.

But again, if the car continued to tell you it has 203 miles of range when it was about to run out of charge, you’d figure something was up pretty quick — like, the first time your car ran out of battery while the dashboard cheerily informed you that you had 203 miles of range left.

So Teslas tell a third lie: when the battery charge reached about 50%, the fake range is replaced with the real one. That way, drivers aren’t getting mass-stranded by the roadside, and the scam can continue.

But there’s a new problem: drivers whose cars are rated for 353 miles but can’t go anything like that far on a full charge naturally assume that something is wrong with their cars, so they start calling Tesla service and asking to have the car checked over.

This creates a problem for Tesla: those service calls can cost the company $1,000, and of course, there’s nothing wrong with the car. It’s performing exactly as designed. So Tesla created its boldest fraud yet: a boiler-room full of anti-salespeople charged with convincing people that their cars weren’t broken.

This new unit — the “diversion team” — was headquartered in a Nevada satellite office, which was equipped with a metal xylophone that would be rung in triumph every time a Tesla owner was successfully conned into thinking that their car wasn’t defrauding them.

When a Tesla owner called this boiler room, the diverter would run remote diagnostics on their car, then pronounce it fine, and chide the driver for having energy-hungry driving habits (shades of Steve Jobs’s “You’re holding it wrong”):

https://www.wired.com/2010/06/iphone-4-holding-it-wrong/

The drivers who called the Diversion Team weren’t just lied to, they were also punished. The Tesla app was silently altered so that anyone who filed a complaint about their car’s range was no longer able to book a service appointment for any reason. If their car malfunctioned, they’d have to request a callback, which could take several days.

Meanwhile, the diverters on the diversion team were instructed not to inform drivers if the remote diagnostics they performed detected any other defects in the cars.

The diversion team had a 750 complaint/week quota: to juke this stat, diverters would close the case for any driver who failed to answer the phone when they were eventually called back. The center received 2,000+ calls every week. Diverters were ordered to keep calls to five minutes or less.

Eventually, diverters were ordered to cease performing any remote diagnostics on drivers’ cars: a source told Reuters that “Thousands of customers were told there is nothing wrong with their car” without any diagnostics being performed.

Predicting EV range is an inexact science as many factors can affect battery life, notably whether a journey is uphill or downhill. Every EV automaker has to come up with a figure that represents some kind of best guess under a mix of conditions. But while other manufacturers err on the side of caution, Tesla has the most inaccurate mileage estimates in the industry, double the industry average.

Other countries’ regulators have taken note. In Korea, Tesla was fined millions and Elon Musk was personally required to state that he had deceived Tesla buyers. The Korean regulator found that the true range of Teslas under normal winter conditions was less than half of the claimed range.

Now, many companies have been run by malignant narcissists who lied compulsively — think of Thomas Edison, archnemesis of Nikola Tesla himself. The difference here isn’t merely that Musk is a deeply unfit monster of a human being — but rather, that DRM allows him to defraud his customers behind a state-enforced opaque veil. The digital computers at the heart of a Tesla aren’t just demons haunting the car, changing its performance based on whether it believes it is being observed — they also allow Musk to invoke the power of the US government to felonize anyone who tries to peer into the black box where he commits his frauds.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/edison-not-tesla/#demon-haunted-world

This Sunday (July 30) at 1530h, I’m appearing on a panel at Midsummer Scream in Long Beach, CA, to discuss the wonderful, award-winning “Ghost Post” Haunted Mansion project I worked on for Disney Imagineering.

Image ID [A scene out of an 11th century tome on demon-summoning called 'Compendium rarissimum totius Artis Magicae sistematisatae per celeberrimos Artis hujus Magistros. Anno 1057. Noli me tangere.' It depicts a demon tormenting two unlucky would-be demon-summoners who have dug up a grave in a graveyard. One summoner is held aloft by his hair, screaming; the other screams from inside the grave he is digging up. The scene has been altered to remove the demon's prominent, urinating penis, to add in a Tesla supercharger, and a red Tesla Model S nosing into the scene.]

Image: Steve Jurvetson (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Tesla_Model_S_Indoors.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #steve stecklow #autoenshittification #norihiko shirouzu #reuters #you're holding it wrong #r2r #right to repair #range rage #range anxiety #grifters #demon-haunted world #drm #tpms #1201 #dmca 1201 #tesla #evs #electric vehicles #ftc act section 5 #unfair and deceptive practices #automotive #enshittification #elon musk

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

I Want To Kill Her

Au where Y/N and Harry are neighbors who find out their spouses are cheating with each other.

Based off Fortnight by Taylor Swift

Part 2

CW: Smut, cursing, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink.

Word Count: 6,773

Growing up in America was a constant uphill battle for me. Every day, my family's lower middle class status weighed heavily on our shoulders, dragging us down and suffocating any sense of hope. Despite my parents' relentless efforts, we were always one step away from financial ruin. At school, I was painfully reminded of my economic disadvantage as I trudged through the halls in threadbare clothes and drove up in a battered car that served as a target for cruel jokes and vicious teasing from my more privileged peers. But amidst the constant struggle, I found refuge in my studies. The world of academia offered a fleeting escape from the harsh realities of my daily life, where I poured all my energy into excelling and proving my worth to a society that seemed determined to keep me down.

Life in our small town was like a broken record, repeating the same monotonous routine day after day. That is, until Teddy waltzed into our midst like a breath of fresh air. His tall frame stood out amongst the sea of ordinary faces, and his crisp British accent was music to our ears. The local coffee shop suddenly became a buzz of excitement as he charmed everyone with his wit and sophistication. And when he extended an invitation for me to join him in London, it was like a fairytale come to life. Leaving my predictable life behind and starting anew in the bustling city seemed intimidating, but I couldn't resist the allure of adventure and passion that awaited me with Teddy by my side.

My hand shook as I clutched the small, worn suitcase. Tears welled up in my eyes as I said goodbye to my family and familiar life. But deep down, a sense of determination propelled me forward. I took a deep breath and stepped onto the plane bound for London. As the engines roared and the wheels lifted off the ground, a knot formed in my stomach and my heart raced with a mix of emotions - fear of the unknown, excitement for new adventures, and anticipation for what lay ahead.

I pressed my forehead against the cool, double-paned window and watched as familiar buildings and streets grew smaller and smaller. A sense of relief washed over me, lifting the weight of my past struggles and hardships with every mile we flew away from them. Little did I know, the journey ahead would be filled with new challenges and lessons that would shape me into the person I was always meant to become.

As we soared higher into the sky, thick clouds began to spread like a blanket over the vast expanse of blue. The world below disappeared from view, hidden by layers of white. But as we descended towards London, small patches of land began to peek through - rolling hills covered in lush green fields and charming villages nestled along winding rivers. My heart fluttered with excitement and curiosity at this glimpse of a foreign land.

The wheels touched down on the runway, jolting me out of my daydreams. I took a deep breath as we taxied towards the terminal, ready to embark on this new chapter of my life in a place that felt both unfamiliar and full of endless possibilities.

The bright lights of London beckoned me, a stark contrast to the small town I left behind. Teddy, my generous host, had spared no expense to make me feel at home in his lavish house. Each morning, I woke up to stunning views of the city skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows. The enticing scent of freshly baked pastries and rich coffee filled my nostrils, reminding me that this was a life of luxury that I never could have imagined.

But what truly amazed me was the fact that I no longer had to work. Teddy's successful business ventures meant that money was no longer a worry for me. This newfound wealth allowed me to indulge in all the things I could only dream about before. My wardrobe was now filled with designer clothes, fancy dinners were a regular occurrence, and luxurious vacations were just a plane ride away.

However, amidst all this extravagance and joy, there was always a twinge of guilt in the back of my mind. Growing up, every penny counted and financial struggles were a constant source of stress for my family. Now, with my newfound wealth, I couldn't help but feel guilty for having so much while others back home still struggled to make ends

I fiercely pushed all doubts and apprehensions aside, determined to fully surrender myself to my newfound life. And by all appearances, I succeeded. Teddy whisked me away on dazzling tours of the city, revealing hidden gems and indulging in the finest cuisine known only to elites. He also opened the door to his elite circle of friends – powerful individuals who radiated confidence and wealth wherever they went.

At first, I felt like a mere observer among them. While they boasted about their latest investments and business ventures, I could only offer anecdotes about my humble beginnings in a small town. But as weeks turned into months, they welcomed me into their exclusive inner circle. They even included us on extravagant trips abroad where we mingled with A-list celebrities and attended VIP events.

I couldn't believe how rapidly my life had transformed since meeting Teddy. Where once I was ridiculed for not fitting in with the wealthy crowd, now I lived among them, basking in their luxurious lifestyle.

But amidst all the glitz and glamour, a persistent voice gnawed at the back of my mind. It started one afternoon while Teddy was tending to the front yard. On the surface, it seemed like an ordinary chore for a homeowner, but something about it felt insidious and unsettling.

Despite the hired help we had to maintain our lavish property, Teddy insisted on taking care of menial tasks himself. At first, I thought it was just his need to be hands-on, but as the days turned into weeks, I couldn't ignore the way his eyes lingered on the woman next door. Every time she stepped outside in her form-fitting gardening attire, he would drop whatever he was doing and watch her with an unbridled hunger. Her movements were like a sensual dance, each step oozing with an irresistible seduction that captivated him. She seemed to know exactly how to entice him, bending over suggestively in her garden while his eyes greedily took in every curve of her body. But when her husband's luxury car pulled into their driveway, she would become a picture of innocence once again. It was a tantalizing game of desire and secrecy, leaving me wondering what they truly did behind closed doors.

Rosie, the woman of the house, was a force to be reckoned with, her love and dedication to her garden rivaling that of a mother's fierce protection for her child. Harry, her husband and successful entrepreneur, exuded a confident aura as he walked through their flourishing gardens, the beauty brand he created known by all as Pleasing. Despite our similar ages, their maturity and put-together appearance made me feel inadequate in comparison. Our own home seemed dull and lifeless in comparison to theirs, always offering an unobstructed view of Rosie's constant tending to her bountiful gardens, a sight that also caught my husband's wandering eyes. But it was impossible to deny the allure of their well-manicured gardens, bursting with vibrant hues and intoxicating scents that enveloped us in a hypnotic trance. 

Each passing week brought a new wave of torment as I watched Teddy's eyes dart towards Rosie's garden, his gaze lingering on her while she tended to her roses. My stomach twisted with jealousy as he made excuses to be outside, his every move calculated to catch her attention.

I couldn't bear the thought of him longing for someone else, and my heart shattered into pieces with each stolen glance towards her. Desperate for answers, I confronted him about their relationship, but he dismissed my fears with a cold indifference and insisted they were just innocent neighbors. But deep down, I knew there was something more between them, and it consumed me with a fiery rage that threatened to consume us all.

As I relaxed in the comfort of my home, the noise from outside suddenly jolted me out of my reverie. My eyes snapped to the window overlooking the busy street below, and there I saw Harry's sleek black Mercedes screeching into their driveway, its engine roaring wildly. Rosie appeared in the doorway, her movements frantic as she planted a forced kiss on his cheek before ushering him inside with an urgency that made my heart race. The door slammed shut behind them, and a foreboding sense of dread settled in my gut as I realized that something was seriously wrong between them. Whatever was happening, they were clearly trying to hide it from prying eyes.

My heart raced with a mix of excitement and dread as I made my way downstairs, my curiosity burning like a wildfire. The front door slammed behind me, the sun setting in a fiery blaze behind my back. My feet carried me across the short distance between our homes, anticipation building with each step. As I approached their front step, muffled voices drifted through the open window above me, a sinister soundtrack to my racing thoughts. I could make out Harry's tense tone and Rosie's pleading replies, but not the words themselves. Their hushed argument went on for what seemed like an eternity before falling silent, leaving me standing frozen in shock. My mind raced as I tried to piece together what was happening. Had my suspicions been correct after all? Were Rosie and Teddy entangled in a secret affair that Harry had finally uncovered? The weight of the truth hit me like a sledgehammer, filling me with a mix of anger, betrayal, and fear for what would

My thoughts were racing as I tried to decide what to do next, but before I could make a move, the front door swung open with a loud bang. My heart jolted in my chest as Harry stormed out, his face contorted with either seething anger or burning embarrassment - it was hard to tell which was more intense. He didn't even spare me a glance as he brushed past, heading straight for his car.

Just then, Rosie appeared in the doorway, her eyes widening in shock when she saw me standing there. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was a wild mess, betraying some sort of frantic activity behind closed doors. "Oh...I-I didn't realize you were home," she stammered, her voice trembling with unease. She attempted a smile, but it fell short and I could see the fear in her eyes.

Before I could ask what was going on, Teddy burst out of our house and called out my name. He sprinted towards us from across the street, his brows furrowed with concern as he took in the sight of Rosie and I standing together. The tense atmosphere was thick between us all, and I knew something serious was about to go down.

"What's going on?" he demanded, his voice laced with concern as he eyed us both suspiciously.

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions. "I honestly don't know," I admitted, feeling like a pawn in their complicated game. "Do you?"

Teddy and Rosie exchanged a tense look that spoke volumes about their troubled relationship. I could sense the weight of their secrets and lies pressing down on me, suffocating me with their toxic grip. Without another word, I turned and fled back inside, trying to escape the tangled web of deceit and betrayal they had woven around me. My once glamorous new life now felt tainted with suspicion and heartache.

I slam the door shut behind me, my hands trembling with rage and disbelief. My worst fears have been confirmed - Teddy and Rosie were having an affair all along, right under my naive nose. A surge of hot tears fills my eyes as I collapse onto the couch, my heart hammering in my chest. How could he do this to me? After all we've built together, all the love and trust we shared. 

My mind races back through the past few months, dissecting every encounter between them that I had brushed off as innocent. His lingering looks at her, her secret smiles directed only at him, their hushed conversations that would abruptly end whenever I appeared. The pieces finally fit together, a puzzle of betrayal and deceit that I was too blind to see. How long has it been going on? Was it when he started staying late at work for that promotion? Or when our once effortless conversations turned into strained silence over dinner? My world is shattered, and I can't help but wonder if it was ever truly as perfect as I believed it to be.

My body curls in on itself, a protective barrier against the pain that radiates through me. My mind is stuck on replay, the tense exchange between them echoing endlessly in my head. Rosie's desperate pleas, Harry's explosive anger - it all points to betrayal. 

The tears fall hot and heavy down my cheeks as I realize I can no longer ignore the truth. My heart aches with every beat, but I know I have to confront Teddy. Pretending everything is okay between us is no longer an option. 

As I stand up and make my way to the front window, I catch a glimpse of Teddy crossing back over to our house, his defeated posture screaming guilt. The anger and hurt fueling my determination, I take a deep breath and brace myself for the inevitable confrontation. 

When Teddy steps into our living room, the air crackles with tension like static electricity before a storm. The unspoken truths between us hang heavily, suffocatingly thick like a dense fog. 

"Why don't you just admit it, Teddy?" My voice trembles with a mix of rage and despair.

He responds with words sharp as shattered glass, "Admit what? That you're so blinded by your own insecurity that you'd accuse me without any proof?" His betrayal cuts deep, adding more pieces to the already broken shards of my heart.

My hands balled into fists at my sides, knuckles turning white as I struggled to contain the raging storm inside me. "Don't you dare try to twist this around on me! I saw you, Teddy. I saw the way your eyes linger on her, like she's the only thing that matters."

Teddy's jaw clenched and his calm façade cracked, giving way to a simmering anger. "You're being paranoid. Rosie is just a friend, nothing more."

I took a step closer, my voice dripping with venom. "Oh please, spare me your excuses. I've seen how you look at her when you think I'm not looking."

Fury burned bright in his eyes, his voice rising in a challenge. "How dare you accuse me of cheating? I would never do that to you!"

Tears threatened to spill over as I shook my head in disbelief, my heart shattering into a million pieces. "It's not just about today, Teddy. It's been building up for months. The way you ignore me and shower her with attention... It's like I'm invisible to you now."

He scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Oh please, stop playing the victim here. You knew what you were getting into when we moved here.You want me to make you feel like you exist? Do you want me to fuck you? What do you want? You’re so needy you put your issues onto other women."

My nails dug into my palms as I fought to keep my composure in the face of his callous words. "I thought I was getting into a life with someone who loved and respected me. Not someone who sneaks around behind my back to screw the neighbor."

The tension in the room reached its breaking point as Teddy's mask slipped completely, revealing the raw emotions seething beneath the surface. "Maybe if you were more exciting, more adventurous, I wouldn't have to look elsewhere for some excitement in my life!"

His words struck me like a physical blow, leaving me reeling in disbelief and pain. The truth hung heavy in the air between us, an invisible barrier that seemed impossible to breach.

"I can't do this anymore," I whispered hoarsely, the finality of those words echoing like a gunshot in the silent room.

Teddy's expression softened for a fleeting moment before hardening once again with resolve. "Fine then! Maybe this is for the best. Actually, yeah it is. Bitch." he spat out, his voice laced with bitterness.

And with those parting words echoing in my ears like a curse, I turned away from him and headed towards the door, leaving behind our shattered dreams and broken promises in a trail of fractured memories.

The low hum of the engine filled the air as Harry sat in his sleek, black car, parked precisely outside of his modern fortress. I approached cautiously, trying to mask my trembling steps on the pavement. With a gentle tap on the window, I could feel his intense gaze burning through me from within the tinted glass. His phone slipped from his hand as he rolled down the window, revealing a sharp jawline and piercing eyes that seemed to glow with an otherworldly intensity. A commanding voice cut through the silence, "Get in." Without hesitation, I made my way around to the passenger side and sank into the plush leather seat next to him, feeling a mix of fear and excitement coursing through my veins.

As we drove away from the chaotic scene behind us, the tension in the car was suffocating. Every muscle in Harry's body seemed to be coiled with a fierce determination, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the steering wheel. I stole a quick glance at him, noticing how his usually calm demeanor was replaced by a dangerous edge, like a predator ready to strike at any moment.

A heavy silence hung in the air of the car, suffocating me as I struggled to catch my breath. Harry's voice pierced through the tension like a sharp blade, cutting deep into my racing thoughts. "Are you okay?" he asked, his expression etched with genuine concern.

I tried to speak, but my throat felt constricted and choked. Finally, I managed to whisper, "I don't know." My mind was reeling from the events that had unfolded only moments ago.

Harry's eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, his words heavy with understanding. "Life has a way of throwing unexpected challenges at us," he mused, his tone grave and contemplative. "But it's how we handle them that defines who we are."

I turned to look at him, grateful for his steady presence amid the chaos raging inside me. "Thank you," I said earnestly. "For being here for me."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Harry's lips, but there was a glint of steel in his gaze. "You don't have to thank me," he replied firmly. "I'm here because I care about you and because your husband is sleeping with my wife." His reassurance was met with a sense of relief and gratitude amidst the turmoil that threatened to consume me.

The stillness between us was palpable, a fragile thread holding back a storm of emotions. The road stretched out before us, winding through fields and forests, as if it were leading us towards a new beginning.

My heart felt heavy with the weight of our shared past, but in this moment, with Harry by my side, I could feel a glimmer of hope for the future. Together, we drove into the unknown, leaving behind the pain and hurt that had consumed us.

But as we reached our destination - a rundown motel in the middle of nowhere - the tension returned. Harry's exhaustion and frustration were etched on his face as he turned to me.

"I know neither of us want to go home right now," he said, his voice laced with bitterness. "For fuck's sake, they're probably sexing each other up as we speak.." A surge of anger and betrayal rose within me at his words. "Let's just stay here for the night, maybe two. We can regroup and come up with a plan." His proposal hung in the air like a dark cloud, reminding us both of the uncertain future that lay ahead. But one thing was certain - we wouldn't have to face it alone.

My voice caught in my throat, unable to form words as I simply nodded, a tight knot of fear and anger coiling in my stomach. My body trembled with the intensity of the situation. We both knew that any misstep could cause everything to spiral out of control. The motel seemed like a fitting backdrop for our strained emotions, its dilapidated exterior reflecting the state of our relationship. The neon lights flickering ominously, casting a sickly glow over the peeling paint and broken windows. But even this rundown place offered some respite from the suffocating chaos and turmoil surrounding us.

Panicked and unprepared for the situation I found myself in, I regretted not packing a change of clothes as my heart raced and my mind spun with fear. The events that had just unfolded left me gasping for air, struggling to stay afloat in a sea of chaos. As we rushed into the rundown motel, I couldn't help but scan our surroundings, searching for any sign of danger. The flickering lights and musty smell only added to the ominous atmosphere. Harry snatched the key from the grimy front desk man and led us down a dimly lit hallway to our room. My anxiety spiked when they informed us that the only available room featured a single king-sized bed. My nerves were on edge at the thought of sharing such an intimate space with Harry, his intimidating presence looming over me like a dark cloud.

As we stepped into the dimly lit motel room, the tension between Harry and me was palpable, hanging heavy in the air like a thick fog. I could feel his eyes on me, assessing, judging.

"I'll take the floor," Harry offered gruffly, breaking the silence that had settled between us like a heavy blanket.

I shook my head, unable to accept his sacrifice. "No, we can share the bed. It's fine," I replied softly, trying to ease some of the strain that weighed on us both.

Harry hesitated for a moment before nodding curtly. "Alright then."

The room felt suffocatingly small as we settled in, the walls seeming to press in on us from all sides. The shadows danced ominously in the dim light, casting eerie shapes across the worn carpet.

"I never thought we'd end up here," I mused quietly, breaking the somber stillness that enveloped us.

Harry's voice was gruff as he responded, "Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs at you when you least expect it."

A bitter chuckle escaped my lips. "Seems like we're both striking out lately."

We sat in silence for a while, the weight of our complicated situation hanging heavily over us. The sound of distant traffic seeping through the thin walls served as a reminder of the world outside our little bubble of chaos.

Finally, Harry spoke again, his voice softer this time. "I'm sorry you're going through this. You deserve better."

I turned to look at him, meeting his gaze for the first time since we had arrived. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that caught me off guard.

"Thank you," I whispered, feeling a flicker of warmth amidst the cold despair that had settled in my heart. We sat side by side on the edge of the bed, two broken souls seeking solace in each other's company. 

We sat in silence for a while longer, the weight of our circumstances still heavy on our shoulders but somehow more bearable with each other's presence. The flickering lights outside cast fleeting shadows across the room, adding a sense of fleeting impermanence to our shared moment of respite.

"I'm glad you're here," Harry spoke up suddenly, his voice genuine and heartfelt.

Tears welled up in my eyes at his words, grateful for the unexpected bond that had formed between us in the midst of turmoil. "Me too," I whispered, feeling a sense of hope blooming in my heart despite the challenges ahead.

And so we sat together in the dimly lit motel room, two souls seeking solace in each other's company amidst the chaos that threatened to tear us apart.

My phone began to buzz incessantly in my hand, Teddy's name flashing on the screen. I couldn't bear to see his name or hear his voice, so I forcefully shut off my phone and flung it across the room with a violent toss. As it clattered against the wall, Harry's quiet voice pierced through the air.

"She called me too," he seethed, his fists clenched at his side. "In this moment, I could kill her."

I nodded in agreement, my blood boiling with rage. "Teddy had the audacity to accuse me of being jealous and then suggest that if he just fucked me, my jealousy would disappear," I spat out, feeling both hurt and incensed by his words.

Harry's voice dripped with desire as he turned towards me, his gaze burning into my skin. "Would it?" His words were a challenge, daring me to answer. I could feel the heat radiating off his body as he leaned in closer.

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "Would what?"

A smirk played at the corners of his lips as he spoke the words that sent a shiver down my spine. "If he fucked you, would you still be so jealous?"

My heart raced at the vulgar question and I let out a nervous laugh. Shaking my head, I replied, "No, Harry. Nothing could change how I feel."

He let out a deep sigh, frustration evident in his voice. "The timing of this is fucking terrible. I've always thought you were stunning, wondered what you saw in a guy like him. And I know I could give it to you so much better."

Our eyes locked in a heated moment and I couldn't deny the sparks that flew between us. But as tempting as his offer was, I knew I couldn't betray my feelings for another man.

I glanced up at him through my lashes and saw the raw intensity in his gaze. It was clear that he wanted me. But we both knew it could never be more than a forbidden fantasy.

“What if we had our own affair, you know, to get back at them.” He said with a smirk.

My heart pounded in my chest like a wild animal in a cage at his words. An affair? The thought sent waves of scandalous delight and sinful anticipation coursing through my veins.

"An affair, Harry?" I repeated tentatively, my voice barely above a whisper. His dark eyes were locked onto mine, the intensity of his gaze making my breath hitch in my throat. The charged silence that hung between us was as intoxicating as the raw desire smoldering in his gaze.

Leaning closer, Harry's lips brushed against my earlobe as he whispered huskily, "Yes, an affair, just like what they did. Us, sneaking around, feeling each others bodies." His hot breath fanned over me, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.

The room seemed to shrink around us as Harry moved impossibly closer, his hand finding its way to my knee. I watched as his fingers traced patterns along my thigh, desire flooding me with each small movement.

Harry's thumb traced a line up towards the apex of my thighs, igniting sparks wherever it made contact with my flesh through the thin material of my skirt. My body instinctively rose to meet him and I let out a soft gasp.

"You want this," he murmured heatedly against my neck before nipping lightly at the sensitive skin there. A delicious shiver ran down my spine and my core clenched at his actions. 

"I...I..." I stuttered, struggling for words as heat pooled low in my belly. He chuckled darkly at my loss for words before returning his attention back to where his hand had slowly began creeping upwards again. His warm touch was like an electric shock, leaving behind a trail of molten desire.

Without another word, Harry pushed up my skirt and slipped his hand into my panties. His fingers brushed lightly against me and I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling a jolt of pleasure shoot straight to my core. He grinned wickedly at me and slowly began to stroke me, his skilled fingers setting my senses ablaze.

"Harry," I moaned out, clutching at his arm as he expertly worked me into a bundle of nerves. His low chuckle did nothing to ease the escalating tension.

His finger easily slipped inside me, making me whimper at the sudden intrusion. Harry pumped his digits inside me slowly at first, but quickly sped up when I let out a needy gasp. The pleasure was overwhelming and soon enough, I clenched around him, a shuddering orgasm ripping through me.

I fell back onto the bed, panting heavily as aftershocks still tingled throughout my body. Harry wiped his glistening fingers on my skirt before smoothly pulling it back down. He then lay next to me on the bed, his smirk evident in the dim light.

"That's just a taste," he said with a wicked glint in his eyes. 

"I can't wait to claim you as mine," Harry whispered in my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. My heart raced as he trailed kisses along my jaw and down my neck, stopping to suckle a tender spot just below my earlobe. His hands moved sensually over my body, teasingly tracing patterns on my skin before gripping me tighter.

Desperate for more of his touch, I moaned and arched into him. He took that as an invitation and gripped the hem of my shirt, pulling it up over my head roughly. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath when he saw me bare-chested for the first time. I blushed at his appreciation but internally preened at his reaction.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he growled lowly before capturing one of my nipples between his lips and sucking hard. My back bowed off the bed as I let out a keening whimper, my fingers tangling in his hair. He had a way of making me feel wanted and desired like no one ever had before.

He moved lower, kissing and licking his way down my stomach until he reached the hem of my skirt. With a swift movement, he yanked it up over my hips, baring me completely to him. His eyes darkened even more when they met mine again, full of lust and possession.

"Spread your legs for me," he commanded softly yet authoritatively. I hesitated for only a moment before complying with his request, feeling incredibly exposed but also powerfully aroused by the thought of pleasing him in any way possible.

Harry took advantage of this vulnerability by thrusting two fingers deep inside me without any warning or preparation. I gasped at the intrusion but didn't stop him from exploring deeper within me. Instead, I clenched around his fingers instinctively while moaning out his name in ecstasy. He chuckled softly against my inner thigh before reaching between our bodies to stroke himself in time with his rhythmic fingering of me.

"You're so tight," he groaned approvingly. 

As Harry thrust his fingers deeper into me, I couldn't help but moan louder. His fingers curled inside me, searching for my sweet spot while his other hand gripped my hip firmly. My body shuddered with pleasure as we moved together in this intense rhythm.

"You feel so good," I whispered between breaths. "Please don't stop."

He chuckled darkly before biting down softly on the lobe of my ear, sending a jolt of excitement through me. His hips picked up speed, grinding against me as he groaned in approval.

"That's it, baby girl," he growled. "Take what you want."

His words ignited something deep within me, making me even more hungry for his touch. I didn't hesitate to wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer still. Our skin slapped together in sync with each swift thrust and retreat as we moved together like two bodies meant to be one.

"Oh fuck, you're driving me wild," he whispered into my ear before grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling my head back sharply. The sudden sting shot straight to my core, intensifying every sensation tenfold. He released my hair just as quickly and crashed his lips onto mine in a demanding kiss that left me panting for air.

We moved from the couch to bed floor where he pushed me down onto all fours before kneeling behind me. One hand gripped the base of my spine while the other caressed its way up my inner thigh towards my core again. He teased me mercilessly with his fingers as he trailed hot kisses down my spine and back up again, sending shivers of anticipation through my entire body.

"I know I'll fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before," he muttered darkly into my ear just before slamming himself deep inside me from behind in one powerful stroke that made me cry out loudly at both surprise and pleasure. In response, he gripped both sides of my face roughly yet tenderly and claimed my mouth once more in a fiery kiss that went on forever or at least it felt like it did until our bodies became entwined.

I could feel his cock hardening in his pants and I needed it no matter how wrong it was.

He gripped my hair tightly and pulled my head back, exposing my neck. His hot breath sent shivers down my spine as he whispered, "You're mine to fuck however I want." Wanting more than anything to feel his cock deep inside me, I moaned in agreement.

Pushing me against the bed, he roughly lifted one of my legs and wrapped it around his waist. With his free hand, he pushed his hard and heavy cock into me. I cried out at the intense pleasure shooting through my body as he began to thrust slowly yet powerfully in and out of me.

"Say you want it," he growled against my ear. "Tell me how much you need it."

"Please," I whimpered. "Fuck me hard."

His answering groan sent a wave of heat coursing through my veins as he slammed into me with all his might, claiming my mind and body as his own. The force of each thrust sent jolts of electricity through every nerve ending i body, leaving me breathless and begging for more.

As he continued to pound into me, I couldn't help but moan his name. His thick cock stretched and filled me, hitting my sweet spot with each powerful thrust. I felt my walls start to quake, ready to explode with pleasure as he took control of our encounter.

"That's it," he growled, nipping at my earlobe. "Just let go."

I clung to him tighter, my nails digging into his skin as I surrendered to the intensity of our lovemaking. Every muscle in my body was on edge, waiting for the release that felt so close yet so far away.

He changed positions again, lifting me up and pushing me against the wall. His other hand gripped my hair tightly as he claimed my mouth roughly in a deep, passionate kiss. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he began to thrust even harder into me. It felt so dirty yet so good to be taken like this.

"You are mine," he whispered harshly between breaths. "Only mine. I bet your husband would be fucking dumbfounded when he sees you filled up with my babies."

His words sent shivers down my spine, and I couldn't help but nod in agreement as he took control completely. This was exactly what I needed - someone strong who would make me feel wanted and taken care of. 

As we moved together in sync, lost in the heat of passion and desire, I whispered back to him between gasps for air, "Please...don't stop."

He replied by grabbing hold of my ass cheeks and squeezing them tightly as he thrust deeper into me. His rough skin rubbed against mine, sending tingling sensations all over my body. With every push and pull, our hips collided, echoing throughout the room.

I could feel him growing harder inside me, straining against the thin fabric separating us. The anticipation was killing me - I needed him to release that cock and fill me up completely. As if reading my mind, he pulled away from me suddenly and spun me around so that I was facing the wall again.

"Not yet," he growled into my ear before reaching down and teasing my entrance with his thumbs. He pushed one finger inside me slowly, then another, stretching me open until three fingers were buried deep inside me. I arched my back involuntarily as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through my veins at his tender ministrations on my most sensitive spot.

“Where is your damn phone?” Harry demanded, his voice dripping with urgency. I struggled to lift my head off the bed and weakly pointed to the device lying on the floor. Without hesitation, he leapt from the bed and strode over to it.

A sinister grin spread across his face as he unlocked the phone and shoved his thumb into my mouth, ordering me to suck on it. With a twisted sense of satisfaction, he flipped the phone and snapped a selfie, making sure to capture the tattoos inked on his arm for identification. His next move was ruthless as he pulled up my text messages and sent the photo to Teddy, effectively sending a clear message of dominance over me.

"I'll make sure that bastard knows what he's missing out on," Harry growls, his eyes filled with possessive rage. "You're too good for him, love. A fucking goddess like you deserves to be worshipped and adored, not tossed aside like a used toy." I feel a mix of anger and satisfaction as I realize that I don't need Teddy anymore, not after the wild and passionate night I just had with Harry. He makes me feel alive in a way no one else ever has.

Harry threw the phone back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. I could see the fire in his gaze, the intensity of his desire for me. He reached out and ran a hand through my hair, gently tugging on it as he leaned in to kiss me. His lips were soft, but his touch was firm, demanding. I responded eagerly, meeting his kiss with equal passion.

As we kissed, Harry's hands began to wander, exploring my body with a familiarity that set my skin on fire. He traced the curve of my waist, the arch of my back, the dip of my hips. I could feel myself growing wetter with every touch, every kiss. I needed him inside me again, needed to feel him filling me up, possessing me completely.

But Harry had other plans. He broke our kiss and looked deep into my eyes, his expression serious. "Not yet," he whispered, echoing his earlier words. "I want to savor every moment with you."

He lowered his head and began to kiss a trail down my neck, across my collarbone, down to my breasts. He teased my nipples with his tongue, biting down gently on the sensitive flesh. I gasped, arching my back as waves of pleasure washed over me.

Slowly, carefully, Harry began to enter me once again. He moved slowly at first, savoring every inch of me. But as he felt me grow wetter, more responsive, he picked up the pace. He thrust deeper, harder, his hips slapping against mine. I could feel myself losing control, could feel the familiar tightening in my belly as I approached my climax.

"Turn over, want to see that beautiful ass of yours as I fill you up," he growled, his voice thick with desire.

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[buckymorelikefuckme]

FD,AU

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 594

warnings: **18+ ONLY** smut, explicit content, answering the phone while having sex, mild spanking. let me know if i missed anything.

a/n: listen, i'm trying to come up with new stuff but it's really hard for me rn, so pls enjoy this other orphaned work from ao3 that i'm bringing back here bc i'm an idiot. k thenks ilysm. any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged and appreciated ♡

Bucky has you face down, ass up, fucking into you roughly. He’s dragging moans and whimpers from deep within you, hitting all the right places. He brings his hand down to smack your ass. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, clenching around his cock.

You hear him chuckle behind you. He does it again, and again, sending your pleasure soaring higher and higher. You’re sure your orgasm is just on the cusp… when his phone rings. Obviously, you expect him to ignore it. You don’t expect him to slam into you, and then pause suddenly.

“No, no,” you whine, trying to wriggle your hips to get him moving again as your pleasure winds down to a low hum.

He shushes you, squeezing your hip. You see his arm reach to the side where his phone rests on the sheets. You watch, bewildered, as he presses a button and lifts it to his ear.

“This is James,” he says as he answers.

You throw a wild look his way, silently asking him what the fuck he’s doing. His lips tilt up in a half grin. 

“Oh, Mr. Hudson, so nice to hear from you,” he greets pleasantly, at the same time he drags his cock out slowly. He thrusts back in and continues. “I hadn’t expected a call until tomorrow.” A pause. “No, I’m not busy. What do you need?”

He lazily fucks you as he holds a conversation with the supposed Mr. Hudson, and all you’re able to do is lie there and take it. You do your best to be quiet, lest the man on the other end of the phone hear you and therefore what James is doing to you, but Bucky gives you a rough thrust, his cock hitting a spot that makes you cry out. He quickly bends, wrapping his hand around your mouth, but still never stopping his thrusting. 

Your breathing turns harsh, little moans coming out muffled against his hand. He shoves his phone between his cheek and shoulder, using his now free hand to pull you up until your back is pressed against his chest.

“Sure, we can set up a meeting. When is best for you?”

With one hand still covering your mouth, his other slides down your torso until it slips between your legs, his fingers setting a quick rhythm on your clit. You whimper as you throw your head back to rest it on his shoulder. 

“Sounds great. I’ll see you then, sir.”

He’s barely hung up the phone when he tosses it on the mattress. He fucks you hard and fast, pinching at your nipples and biting marks into your neck and shoulder. You’re a mess; noises being wrenched from you, sweat dripping down your back. Bucky’s panting against your skin as he gets closer and closer to climax. 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says breathlessly. 

A few more thrusts and you gasp, back arching, mouth hanging open in a silent scream, and then your body shudders, thighs shaking and trying to close around his hand. He groans as you clench around him, his rhythm faltering before he, too, stills. His hands surely leave bruises where they’re gripping you, but you’ll wear them with pride. 

You both catch your breath for a moment, but then you reach behind you and pinch his thigh. 

“Ow! What was that for?” he asks, rubbing at the sore spot.

“If you ever pull that shit again, I’ll punch you in the dick,” you threaten halfheartedly.

He laughs and kisses you on the cheek, winking when you glare at him over your shoulder.

#i'm sorry for not posting new stuff more regularly #i swear i'll get better about it :( #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #avengers fic #marvel fic

[spacebubblehomebase]

(ALL) 🌈 "R stands for Robin." 🤍

"Had you asked us when we were younger about who we think we'd grow up to be, none of us would have answered who we did end up becoming. Someone bigger than ourselves. A symbol beating in different hearts. Each coming from unlikely origins. A partner to Batman and a fledgling that would soar higher and shine brighter than any other. They think we've divided this mantle, but no. Each of us made Robin WHOLE. Afterall, light refracts into multiple colors, right? And birds of a feather are stronger TOGETHER."

R is for Righteousness.

R is for Rebellion.

R is for Responsibility.

R is for Respect.

R is for Redemption.

R is for Revolutio- NO. It's a Reminder.

(Fun Fact 👀: If you look closely, you might notice how each Robin wears the color of the one that comes after them. Except for Duke who wears the first Robin's colors to tie them all together again. Proving they're better as a set. Speaking of, these drawings were sold at a booth in my school and the Batgirls were particularly popular! XD) -Bubbly💙

#spacebubblearts #dc #my art #fanart #robin #red robin #red hood #nightwing #signal #batgirls #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #stephanie brown #damian wayne #duke thomas #cassandra cain #barbara gordon #batfamily #gotham #batman #art challenge #valentines day #stickers #sold out #we had to restock some of them even #best seller #batfam #coloring practice #aaaaand we're FINALLY done!!! I hope you all enjoyed the ride! ^v^ It was fun getting to know these characters!!! <3

[chuluoyi]

studying for dummies

- fushiguro megumi x reader

you have an important exam coming up and are having a hard time to study. luckily, your boyfriend knows how to make you feel better

genre/warnings: college au, total fluff !!!

notes: i love writing college aus for megumi bc he never got the chance to in that cursed manga called jjk :') to the nonnie who asked for this, i knew i have to write it when i received your ask ehe <3

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

"Why is this so hard..."

Megumi turned to you, sliding his headphones off with a questioning look when he heard you sigh once again, plopping your head down on the textbook. "What if I don't make it? What if I have to repeat a year? Ugh..."

Megumi continued to stare at you, with a flat expression. "So long as you study, you'll pass."

You threw him a sullen look, irked. "I know that! But studying itself is hard!"

The graduation exam was fast approaching and everyone in your grade was losing their head for a reason. Well, not your boyfriend though. While you were busy cramming your poor brain with ethics and physics in his apartment, Megumi was leisurely stuffing his ears with his headphones and catching up to the latest chapter of his favorite manga, without any care of the impending doom.

"You have to take breaks," he scolded then, truly meaning well. "You can't go on without food or rest. And don't overthink it, I'm sure you'll—"

"That's easy for you to say, Megumi—you're a natural genius," you interjected, crestfallen. The stress of failing several tryouts just got to you before you realized it. "Unlike you, I'm a dummy. I have to actually study."

Megumi remained quiet, watching as you turned back to your textbook, determined to give it another shot. Seeing your discouraged expression, something in his heart softened slightly.

And in that moment, he knew what he had to do to lift your spirits up.

He walked over to the little kitchen in his apartment to whip you some lunch, and throughout it all, you were still fixated on your studies, occasionally talking to yourself.

"Can Yuji even solve this problem...? I can take being called dumb but surely I can't be worse than him!"

Megumi found it amusing that you used his best friend as your benchmark for passing. Your way of expressing it brought out a low chuckle from him. How adorable.

Many were wondering what made him to date you—Fushiguro Megumi was always on the top of his class, stoic and indifferent, while you were just... you, a go-getter with cheerful personality that made up most of your academic shortcomings.

To Megumi, you were like a ball of sunshine that he didn't know he needed though. And now, wanted to protect.

While you were still lost in your thoughts and tangled up in physics concepts, he came back to you, gently patting your shoulder. "Hey, I made lunch. Want to join me?"

And needless to say, your eyes lit up with literal stars as you whipped your head towards him. "Yeah!"

Seeing you that excited made something inside Megumi soar. He had always been fond of your smiling face. Watching the fatigue melted a bit from you as you sat down in front of him, a subtle smile found its way onto his lips as well.

"Ooh, hotpot! Megumi, thank you!"

"Yeah, yeah..."

"Mmm! This is tasty!"

"Mm-hmm, have your fill."

You were giddy as you finished your lunch. It was evident that he had prepared the hotpot with your preferences in mind, choosing almost all of your favorite ingredients.

And you were feeling daring now that you knew that he was keeping you in his thoughts.

"Megumi, if I can score higher than 70% in that exam..." you started, smile gradually widening. "Can we celebrate it by going on an overnight trip to Kyushu afterwards? You know... just a little something to look forward to..."

Your boyfriend immediately fixed you with his unwavering gaze, even with his cheeks still filled with rice. But he didn't dwell on it long as he nodded lightly. "Sure."

"Really?!" you beamed, totally bursting with excitement. "Eeep! Megumi! You’re the best!"

How could he ever say no to you when your eyes were literally shimmering with glitters? Megumi never had it in him to. And hey, a trip for two to commemorate your graduation sounded so nice too, it was actually making him eager.

And so, with your tummy full and energy recharged, you enthusiastically redid your mock-up exam. And when you got 90% this time, Megumi actually initiated the first move and pulled you into his lap, giving you a light smooch on the cheek.

“Whoa...” you were so ready to tease him, poking his pink-tinted cheeks. “Do I get a kiss for every mock-up exam well done now?”

He huffed—flushing, turning away with slight frown. “To give you something to look forward to, remember?”

#fushiguro megumi x reader #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk drabbles #megumi fushiguro x reader fluff #megumi fushiguro x reader angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader fluff #fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #fushiguro megumi fluff #fushiguro megumi x y/n #jjk #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro #jjk fluff

[lululayers]

WE ARE THE IMPOSSIBLE BIRDS! LOOK AT US FLY! WE ARE ONLY SOARING HIGHER AND HIGHER! 🪽🏴‍☠️🪽

#save ofmd #save our flag means death #renew ofmd #renew our flag means death #renew as a crew #our flag means death #ofmd #our flag means us #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #ed and stede #ed x stede #stede bonnet #ed teach #edward teach #blackbeard

[radiantvader]

Pairing : Anakin Skywalker x Jedi Master!Fem Reader

Warnings : 18+ (MINORS DNI) !! | Slight Enemies to Lovers | Dirty Talk | Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it babes) | Degradation Kink | Slight Choking | Dom!Anakin | Sub!Reader | Let me know if I missed something :)

Word Count : 2.3k

Summary : In which you and Anakin are on a mission to sneak onto General Grievous' ship and capture him. Your constant banter and teasing throughout the mission frustrates Anakin, and in the end, he finds a way to let out all of his pent-up anger and frustration.

The starfighter hummed with anticipation as you and Anakin soared through the vastness of space, lightspeed blurring the stars into streaks of light, en route to General Grievous' ominous flagship. Inside the cockpit, the hum of the engines was accompanied by the low murmur of Anakin and Obi Wan discussing details about the mission. Anakin shot you a sideways glance, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.  

“So, Master" he began, the title dripping with irony, eyes fixed on the star maps. "Any brilliant ideas on how we're going to sneak onto Grievous' ship?" you smirked while leaning back, studying the holographic blueprints you had received. "Well, Master Skywalker, it seems we have a spy to thank for these detailed plans. You see that hanger over there?" Anakin scowled at the use of the title 'Master' but kept his mouth shut, trying to avoid conflict. You reactivated the holographic blueprints and showed them to him, a smirk etched onto your face. He nodded, eyes burning with impatience and anger. 

"That hanger is our way in. This is General Grievous we're talking about, so we already know that every square inch of this ship is going to be on lock. 20 droids guarding every access point are signal rotated. So once they're on the move, we only have 35 seconds until the next round of 20 droids replace them, we need to be quick. The eyes and ears are in a security room in the west hall, there are 97 motion-sensitive 8K cameras with an overlapping field of vision so there are no natural blind spots. They are always watching, always listening, blasters ready to fire. Getting through the corridors and reaching the command center is going to be easy. Now, here's where things get a little tricky, the doors to the command center have been improved, they're military-grade biometric portals made of a foot and a half of solid titanium. So we can't blow them up, we'll need to use the heat of our lightsabers to melt a hole big enough for us to go through, which might take time considering the thickness of the doors. So while I do that, I need you to cover me from the droids. Once we get into the command center, General Grievous will already be alerted to our presence and will probably have called for backup. So, the moment we enter the command center, we need to drop a smoke bomb, use the force to sense the droids, take 'em down, and then capture Grievous before the smoke clears." You explained the plan and relished Anakin's perplexed face. 

"What? Not used to having a good plan? It must be an honor to be in the company of a highly intelligent Jedi with a higher rank. Perhaps some of my brilliance will rub off on you." Anakin's perplexed face dropped and his scowl deepened, his annoyance palpable. "Brilliance, huh? We'll see about that." You smirked as Anakin sassily rolled his eyes.

As you approached Grievous' ship, you used the Force to mask your presence from the patrolling droid fighters. Anakin expertly piloted the starfighter, dodging and weaving through the asteroid field that surrounded Grievous' vessel and you couldn't help but admit that despite his impulsiveness, he was a formidable pilot. "Nice flying, Skywalker" you complimented, a hint of genuine admiration in your voice. "Save the praising for after we're inside" Anakin quipped. You rolled your eyes, about to retort, but quickly shut your mouth as you approached the hangar bay. Your starfighter hovered in front of the hanger; you were waiting for the perfect moment to go in. The moment the battle droids were switching posts, you and Anakin slipped into Grievous' hangar undetected. And as the ship's bay doors closed behind your starfighter, you both breathed a momentary sigh of relief. 

Stepping out of the starfighter, you and Anakin moved through the dimly lit corridors of Grievous' ship, lightsabers ignited and senses heightened. The air was heavy with tension as you encountered patrols of battle droids. You deflected oncoming blaster shots, not hesitating to take jabs at Anakin. "Careful Skywalker, wouldn't want you tripping over your own bravado." you quipped, voice laced with sarcasm. He shot you an irritated look, "I've handled tougher situations than this." Anakin muttered, deflecting blaster bolts effortlessly. "Of course you have, Chosen One" you snorted, swiftly dispatching a pair of droids with calculated strikes. His jaw clenched, but you caught a glimpse of a smirk he couldn't suppress. Your banter echoed through the metal corridors as you navigated through the labyrinthine ship. The occasional sparks of your lightsabers illuminated the path, creating an otherworldly dance of light and shadow.

As you both neared the command center, the droid resistance intensified. Waves of battle droids surged forward, blasters firing in unison. You and Anakin moved with synchronized precision, your contrasting styles weaving together seamlessly. But when you both reached the command center doors, you quickly got to work. You thrust your lightsaber into the titanium doors and hummed, pleased when the lightsaber melted through the titanium quicker than expected. You drew a decently sized circle with your lightsaber and with a powerful kick, a large circular piece of the titanium doors fell onto the floor, the command center coming into your view. Grievous, who was alerted to your presence, awaited both you and Anakin with his spinning lightsabers, surprisingly with no reinforcements. 

The battle with Grievous unfolded like a chaotic dance, Anakin's acrobatic moves clashed with Grievous' relentless onslaught. Meanwhile, you circled around Grievous, strategically analyzing his patterns, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. "Now!" Anakin shouted, distracting Grievous for a split second. Seizing the opportunity, you lunged forward, lightsaber slashing through the air and delivering a powerful strike that sent Grievous reeling. With a few swift moves, Anakin cut off Grievous' mechanic arms and legs. 

──────────────────

Returning to the Jedi Temple, you both faced the Council. Yoda and Obi-Wan listened intently as you recounted the details of the mission. Yoda's wise eyes bore into yours, assessing not just your words but the unspoken dynamics between you and Anakin. "Hmm, impressive, your teamwork is," Yoda noted, a twinkle in his eyes. "Learn from each other, you must." he continued, and Obi Wan, ever the diplomatic voice, added "Your cooperation has proven fruitful. May the Force continue to guide you both." When the debriefing concluded, you and Anakin made your way back to your quarters in contemplative silence. However, the tension lingered. You leaned against a wall in the secluded hallway and crossed your arms, a teasing smirk etched onto your face.

"Hey Skywalker, do you ever wonder what it's like to be a true master?" He clenched his jaw, balling up his fists, knuckles turning white. "I've got enough on my plate without you constantly annoying me, shut the fuck up for once." He jeered at you, but you just stepped closer, voice dropping to a teasing whisper "Perhaps you're just afraid you'll never measure up."  

Anakin snapped. In an instant, he had you pressed against the wall, his eyes ablaze with fury and frustration. "Enough! I don't care about official titles, I will not allow you to talk to me like that. Learn your fucking place." He seethed, his hand wrapping around your throat painfully. Yet in the charged atmosphere of your conflict, a different kind of energy simmered, a potent blend of unresolved tension and the unspoken truth. And in an inexplicable twist of fate, your shared animosity acted as an irresistible force, leading to a momentary pause that culminated in an unexpected collision of your lips—a fierce, passionate kiss born from a volatile mix of anger and desire, leaving you breathless and conflicted. Like opposing magnets pulled by an invisible force, your bodies surged together.  

The kiss deepened and your breathing became ragged. As the hallway filled with your gasps and fervent whispers, you felt your resistance crumbling completely as Anakin's lips claimed yours with a hunger that mirrored your untamed passions. It was as if the world around you had vanished, leaving only the two of you entangled in the most primal of embraces. "You make me feel things I shouldn't..." you whispered, voice rough and hoarse. Anakin only responded by deepening the kiss, his lips and tongue exploring yours with a zealous intensity that left you breathless. Your bodies continued to strain against one another, their tempo growing more desperate with each passing second. Your breathing grew shallow, the only sounds in the empty hallway were the soft moans of pleasure and the frantic rustle of your clothing. Anakin, driven by an insatiable desire, reached out and grabbed your hips, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. As you continued to kiss passionately, Anakin unbuckled your belt and hurriedly undressed you, the sound of your lightsaber hitting the ground filled the hallway as Anakin tossed your attire aside with a harsh motion, his eyes never leaving yours. He was certain you could feel his heart beating rapidly. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt the cool air against your skin, the sensation heightening your desire for him, nipples hardening. You reached for the fastenings of Anakin's pants, your fingers deftly unbuckling and unzipping him with ease. His erection sprang free, standing rigid and throbbing before you. He groaned into your mouth, his own hands now exploring the areas of your body that his fingers had only briefly touched. He reached between your legs, his fingers brushing against the wetness that had begun to seep through your underwear.  

"Fuck" he whispered, his voice a hoarse growl, as he felt the evidence of your own arousal. You let out a soft moan as Anakin’s lips brushed against your neck, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. He grasped your underwear, sliding it down your legs, his gaze never leaving yours. As the fabric slipped away, exposing your wetness to the cool air, you felt a shiver of anticipation ripple through your body. Anakin's hands traced the curve of your hips, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as he guided himself towards you. He felt your warmth, your wetness, and the knowledge that you were about to be one with each other sent a surge of desire coursing through him. With a deep, shuddering breath, Anakin positioned himself at the entrance to your core.  

He looked into your eyes, his own mirroring the raw intensity of your passion. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself, but right as he was about to slide in, he stopped, "Beg for it." You looked up at him with wide eyes, "What?" you asked perplexed. "I said beg for it." He smirked, toying with you. "C'mon Anakin, please... I need you..." you muttered, embarrassment seeping through your bones. "Oh come on, you and I both know that you can do better than that." He smiled mockingly, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance. Tears prickled the edges of your eyes as you looked up at him desperately, considering throwing your pride away for a moment. "Anakin please, I'm begging you. I need you so badly... It hurts..." your face flushed in embarrassment and Anakin let out a pleased hum, grinning wickedly. Then, with one swift, powerful thrust, he drove himself into you.  

You gasped, your eyes widening in amazement and pleasure as you felt the fullness of his size fill you, the stretch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. "'s too big..." you whimpered when Anakin started thrusting, both pain and pleasure coursing through your veins, "Take it like a good girl and stop whining" Anakin grunted, his thrusts growing steadily more frenzied as the passion of the moment consumed you both. Your bodies moved in a symphony of ecstasy, each thrust a testament to your shared hunger and unspoken longing. Anakin thrust into you with vigor, your fingers dug into his back, the press of his hips against your clit causing you to moan softly with each stroke. Your own arousal grew, your inner walls tightening around him with every thrust, your body eager to take him deeper, to draw him in.  

His tip delightfully hit your cervix, causing you to throw your head back as a moan of pure ecstasy was ripped from your throat. Your hands travelled upwards and grabbed Anakin’s hair, tugging harshly, eliciting a groan from him. “Fucking slut.” He growled lowly while his movements sped up. Anakin gripped onto your hips, roughly pulling you closer to him with each thrust. “Look at you, not so talkative now, are you?” Anakin jeered with a coarse voice, but the only response he got back was a soft mewl. “Aw, did I fuck you dumb already?” He mocked you, enjoying the way your eyes rolled back into your head.  

Anakin's pace was relentless, he had a bruising grip on your hips, thrusting fast, deep, and hard into you. You could feel the pressure build in your lower belly and your walls clenched around Anakin. As his own climax approached, Anakin’s thrusts got sloppier, sweat dripping from his hair and forehead. But as he reached down to fiddle with your overly-sensitive clit, you broke. You clenched around him, letting out a sputtering moan as you came. The feeling of you squeezing around him, soaking him, was enough to send Anakin over the edge.

Heavy and ragged breaths came out of your mouths as Anakin slowly dropped you down from his arms and helped you get dressed. The silence that ensued wasn't awkward, it was tense. Both of you knowing how this could change everything. 

──────────────────

A/N : Guys please don't expect my writing to be perfect, I'm not a professional writer, and It'll take time for me to learn and progress. Also btw the plan in the beginning was inspired by that one scene in the movie 'Red Notice'. It's a great film, you guys should definitely watch it! Anyway, I hope you guys liked this, if I made any mistakes or if you have any tips, please don't hesitate to let me know! <3

#anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin smut #anakin x reader #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen x reader smut #darth vader smut #darth vader #star wars smut #star wars #anakin skywalker #sw prequels #rots #star wars prequels #hayden christensen

[blackbird5154]

I have a theory about the first song sung by the Papas characterizing them as characters.

Secondo's first concert song was "Secular Haze" - a song with a dark circus atmosphere, praising the Antichrist. As we know from Papaganda and interviews, he likes wigs, silly costumes and noisy parties, hiding his unhappiness behind this.

Terzo's first song was "From the Pinnacle to the Pit". His life path follows the path of Lucifer and Icarus, even the last word sung by him on his albums is "falling" ("Bible"). The higher one soars, the longer it takes to fall, the theme of hubris and the giddiness of success all reflect Terzo.

Copia's first song was "Rats" (acoustic performance). Rats prowl everywhere, small and inconspicuous, and bring death. I think he may have identified with death, as his reign began with the murder of the brothers. And as a bastard, he may have felt like a small animal, despised by all, but capable of revenge.

#papa emeritus iii #terzo #papa emeritus ii #secondo #papa emeritus #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia #ghost #the band ghost #ghost theory #ghost hc #ghost lore

[trashmouth-richie]

Eddie x Fem! Reader

master list

tw: no minors gtfo i stg, kissing, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex piv. Etc

summary: it’s happening

a/n: we made it b holes and babes, special s/o to my beta readers @agentmarvel @blueywrites @jo-harrington @sweetsweetjellybean — this chapter is short and sweet. Hope you enjoy

His lips.

Your lips.

Firm.

Soft.

Cracked.

Smooth.

It feels like your souls are levitating off the ground. Hovering over your lip locked bodies and soaring higher to nap in the clouds.

He’s careful but sure, not pressuring you to open your mouth further but following your lead. His lips taste like bitter whiskey and Marlboro Red, a burnt sensation that has you coming back for more with each gentle brush of his lips against yours. The act is stoic. And coming from a very well experienced lover in the sex department, you didn’t see it coming. Prudent hands caress the warming apples of your cheeks, thumbs gliding over your soft skin every so often.

Having Eddie’s lips on yours could be compared to giving in while dieting, an addict trying to stay sober. You held off for as long as you could, telling yourself this shouldn’t happen. It would be wrong. But how could something so wrong, taste and feel so right?

Drunk— no dizzy. Head spinning like a carousel your mind is leading you now. Your hands find purchase against his neck, warm and sweaty from his hair. The other is snaked around him, bringing him impossibly closer, your bodies forming around each other like playdoh in a child’s tight grip.

You’ve never been kissed like this in your life. Every cell in your body is on fire. Simmering low and bubbling hot for him. Robbed of never having experienced something as sweet and tender as this in twenty-one years, you are overwhelmed with emotions at how right, how good, and how fucking fantastic Eddie was making you feel.

Opening your mouth slightly welcoming his tongue, you lick the underside of his top lip, the molten muscle sending chills down Eddie’s spine as you lightly massaged his lip. A moan shakes beautifully from his throat and he follows your lead. Coaxing his tongue gently against yours, a twirling tango of wet heat and fervor have you clutching his neck tighter. He licks into your mouth and you gasp, aware that although you’ve been kissed before it was never like this, lacking the passion that you are feeling while being kissed by Eddie.

No words are spoken and they don’t need to be. The high you’re on is pure euphoria, purple clouds and shimmery stars guide you as you pour your lust into Eddie’s hands and kiss him sugary sweet, your tongues interwoven like threads of yarn in a homemade set of mittens.

Hungry and trembling to feel more of him, your hands move leisurely to the front of his chest. His heart is pounding at your touch, his lips never leave yours. Completely occupied by your slicked lips cushioned between his. Your palms pressed flat against the cotton of his shirt as they navigate to his shoulders. The muscles in his shoulders and arms are well-defined, taut against your hands. Strength uncomparable from years of manual labor. Sculpted perfectly against your hands, arms capable of fighting two men at once, but tender enough to hold you tightly to comfort you. The same arms that wiggled around your thighs and your waist, never letting you go as you comforted him. They were powerful, majestic in a multitude of ways, but pliable and baby soft under his creamy, sweat slicked skin. Fingers moving gingerly downward, inching his jacket slowly off his shoulders, this was the moment, the one that would set off alerts to your brain and to Eddie’s on what you were needing from him. No longer hiding how you felt, no longer unsure or scared of the unknown, you shuck his jacket further down his arms. The creak of the leather squeaking a gentle song in your ears— beautiful harmonious notes of relief as it hits the ground and puddles at Eddie’s feet.

Goosebumps crawl against his flesh, and he works his magnetic lips from yours. Concern paints his face hiding a small trickle of want. Your face still in his hands, he pours his heart out into your eyes, but it’s not enough. If he was going to do this he needed to be sure you were on the same page.

His lips were wet and colored somewhere between the shade just before red but after pink, hungry and not quite full. Pupils blown wide, he tries to convey his thoughts in an unspoken way, but he needs to be sure this is what you want. Placing his hands in yours, fingers locked together in a softened callous grip of joined flesh, he looks from your lips to your eyes and back again.

His voice is husky and dipped low, dripping with sweet honey chords of desire when he speaks to you serenely, “tell me what you want Tooty.”

He’s leaving it up to you, never known as a gentleman before he would be just that for you, in any situation. But especially in this one. Out of respect for you and keeping your demons at bay, if you only wanted this— he’d die tomorrow with a smile imprinted on his face— never ask you to cross your lines of comfortability. Dice in your hands, he waits patiently, thumbs circling the top knuckles of your fingers.

Sure and ready you drop his hands to wrap your fingers along the safety pinned hem of your homemade gift from Eddie, threading the cotton fabric over your head you unthread your arms quickly, not wanting to waste a single second of seeing him. Coy in your delivery, you try your best to calm the wave of nervousness as it crashes around you, warm water soaking your skin as you stand in your bra before Eddie. But his eyes never leave yours, a soldier to his own word, guarding your dignity with everything he had— the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like he wasn’t taking this seriously and only wanted to fuck you.

Fingers skirting under his own shirt you pry it off his body gently. Staring into his eyes you finally speak, “I want you, Eddie. I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

He hums low with satisfaction, the fine lines of his brow flatten and smooth against his forehead, eyebrows receding from his bangs back into place. His calloused hands find your cheeks again, rubbing the pads of his thumbs against your cheeks in a windshield wiper motion, sliding against the smooth expanse of your cheeks, with no tears to dry.

The depth of his eyes are miles deep of rich chocolatey swirls, a fountain of yearning and longing as he whispers gently, “I'm gonna take care of you.”

Nodding along in a silent agreement, Eddie brings his lips to yours. Fruition and passion burst behind your eyelids, his lips are warm and cozy silk as he kisses his way down your neck. The sensation brings warmth to your core and goose bumps along your skin, heightened by the feel of his wet tongue on you. Angling your neck to the side for better access, his tender kisses deepen, whiskey colored curls tickle your shoulder blades and the top of your breasts as his descend down your neck capsizes. Large hands grip the back of your thighs and he pulls you up, hoisting you in his arms. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. His bare skin simmers hot against yours, burning with longing zeal. Electricity surges through you when Eddie moves towards his bedroom. Kicking open the door with his boot and back closed the same way, his mouth never leaving your body, tongue painting you with his slicked spit and wine colored bruising.

He bends down to his bed, carefully adjusting you down your back tickled by the comforter. Laying you down as delicate as a flower atop a loved ones coffin, he pulls back, eyes drunk on you and full of blissful lust, his dark curls hanging from him like a curtain, strong Oxford colored arms on either side of you, his chain necklace swaying in front of you, a taunting pendulum from his bare chest to the tip of your nose.

You timidly reach up to stroke his face, stubborn stubble that he keeps shaved is making a late night debut against your palm, he leans into your touch turning his cheek until it’s flush against your hand. His warm skin singing in your hands. He’s everything you’ve wanted and more. Kicking yourself silently for denying yourself the way he’s looking at you right now, you whisper to him, “you’re so handsome, Eddie.”

He pinks under your palm, he’d been called the name before, but under the weight of your sweet voice, your eyes shining under him, he melts like forgotten chocolate in a denim pocket in the summer. His heart shatters through the atmosphere and skids along the stars, only coming back down to beat wildly in his chest.

“Baby,” Eddie coos, holding your gaze, “do you know how hard it is to breathe when you’re around me?” you’re silent as a tear falls on your cheek, Eddie wipes it away with his finger curled inward, “you’re so beautiful it’s suffocating.”

Pendulum like necklace still swinging, you grab it in a fist and pull him into you, kissing him so abruptly a noise splutters from his lips as yours collide with his, tongues sliding sweetly in a waltz. It’s perfect. He’s perfect. Your body is tingling all over for him. An itch only he can scratch, hungry for him, a desire that you haven’t felt for anyone swells in your chest.

Your legs are spread wide to feel the full weight of his body mass on yours, an odd but satisfying comfort all the same. His scent surrounds you. Hints of Marlboros reds and tangy weed mixed with the burnt notes of cedar and amber. He’s consuming all of your five senses, and you’re broken with his touch, swayed by his tongue in your mouth and his fingers holding the back of your neck, swirling in the hair at the base of your head.

His fingers fall from your hair, tracing lines across your shoulder blades as delicate as snowflakes falling on your eyelashes, strumming lightly across the strap of your bra. Humming against his lips you whisper a whimpered plea to him. Deft fingers coax the straps out of the way, and his lips leave yours kissing your cheeks and making a path of wet lips and sloppy sweet kisses to your shoulder, spending lazy minutes soaking up every inch of your exposed skin. Letting you know with each pucker of his lips how important you are to him. Repeating the same slow motion on the other side, you are heated up. Tingling with butterflies drugged with cocaine in your core, throbbing for more of his touch. You are an addict for him. Eddie— your drug of choice.

Arching your back as he inches his way down your body, his large hands wrap around you, unclasping the bra from itself in expert speed, the relief around your rib cage is audible as you let out a small sigh, Eddie’s curls tickle your bare stomach as he sits up. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath as he’s on his knees between your legs, his hands on his thighs, lips kissed red and pretty, dark eyes searching yours, your bra laying on top of you barely covering your boobs, nipples peaked and ready for their debut under the black silk fabric, your arms still jailed by the straps.

He cocks a smile as you wiggle your arms out of the straps, keeping eye contact with him during the entire performance, thanking a higher power your arms didn’t get stuck in your pursuit of nudity. The bra drops from your pointed fingers like a used tissue on Eddie’s blanket, your lips twist upward with a grin when his eyes go wide at the sight of your tits on display. A bountiful feast of perky nipples and soft skin, still sporting last summer's fading tan lines.

Eddie’s adam apple bobs in his throat like a gear shift slammed into third, eyes wide as he mutters, “Jesus Christ,” to himself. Taking in your doughy tits, heaving like soft cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven. Eddie is practically drooling at the sight of you beneath him.

Dragging his fingers up your curved sides, sending goose bumps in his wake, he cups the tender skin on either side of your boobs, squeezing the pudding-esque cups softly, bringing his face downward towards your chest. One fleeting look from his chocolate eyes to yours and you’re a puddle of melted ice cream. His touch is burrowed into your skin like radiation, his rough calloused hands feel like a cheese grater against your buttery skin. A sensation that has you moaning out loud once his tongue kitten licks one of your nipples and his hot breath blows gently against it, a warm breeze before a thunderstorm on wet sidewalk, flooding your panties at his touch.

He whimpers at your lacy moans, his mouth humming against you, face flush with your nipples as he rubs his tongue back and forth. Giving fair attention to your other nipple he repeats the process, his large hands engulfing your jelloy tits as his expert tongue teases you again and again. The sudden nip of his pearl teeth on your perked mound sends vibrations of electricity to your core.

He’s grinding down into you, and you gasp at his girthy length driving into your body.

Nimble fingers work his belt through the buckle between your two bodies, your appetite only increasing with each sucking bruise into your skin. Eddie follows suit and works fast against your zipper, breaking contact to pull your jeans off by the legs. A wet spot in your panties has him licking his lips, stroking himself beneath denim and cotton.

Eddie wastes no time when he grabs the delicate, silky black fabric on your hips and pulls them downward.

“Holy fuck,” he groans, when your pussy lips cling to the wet fabric, his dick kicks up in his boxer briefs, an impressive show of its own. He slides them down your legs and tosses them onto his dresser.

Lowering himself to your sex his hot breath lingers like smoke on water as he speaks, “if you don’t like something I’m doing— tell me.”

He waits for your nod of approval, which you give innocently. And when he lowers his mouth down to your heated center, fireworks explode behind your eyes.

His name falls from your lips at the first touch of his tongue. It plunges into your velvet drenched folds, and a symphony of whispered breaths and moans shuffle around the room colliding and mixing with the flick of Eddie’s tongue and the curve of his lips suckling on your clit.

Your hands fly to his hair, holding him tight like reins while riding a horse, you pull when it feels good, rubbing softly to dull the pain, and his eliciting moans send currants down to the tips of your toes. It’s shockingly arousing when you take a peak at Eddie between your legs, Dr. Pepper eyes carbonated with lust and desire. Trained on your face as it twists with pleasure and smooths into a smile when his devilish tongue strokes you in the right way, fast then slow, eager but coy, taking his time, expertly bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Just having his mouth on you, feeling him vibrate as the muscle of his long tongue wiggles its way into your center, has your hands frenzied in his curls, nerve endings exploding with each flick of his tongue.

You’ve seen it in movies, heard about it from friends, Robin even being so kind as to go into explicit detail on how it’s done. But much like the kiss, you’ve never encountered the sensation of a lover’s tongue between your legs.

It’s mind altering, blissfully creeping closer to the edge of an orgasm as Eddie laps at your weeping folds. You’re whimpering at his touch, one hot hand holding your hip in place as your back arches from the mattress, the other replacing his tongue in your center, the stretch of his one finger makes him groan, whispered breaths against your core. It’s a pleasurable pain, welcomed by his wet tongue. It could be mistaken as an exorcism the way you're frantically canting your hips as his tongue rolls against your clit again and again. The deep moans choking out from your throat, tornadoing with his pleasantries and whispered praises, and that's when you break.

Every color, every shade, every hue unfolds in your vision against the black of your eyelids. Writhing beneath Eddie you ride out your high against his face, he dips impossibly deeper, connecting your souls with each slow drip of your arousal onto his tongue.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, his hands still gripping your hips loosening them to rub your soft thighs down to the bend in your knee. He sits up, kissing your thigh he murmurs, “so sweet, so beautiful baby.”

Your cheeks heat with his words, blooming across your face and spreading warmly in your chest. Opening your eyes for the first time since your orgasm, you peek at Eddie. His hair is a mess from your hands yanking on it. A pretty sheen of your slick is painted on his lips. His hooded eyes dip to yours as he plants wet kisses to your soft thigh.

Wiggling from his grasp, you sit up, pressing your lips to the column of his throat, your fingers working to push down his jeans and the waistband of his underwear. “Eddie,” you plead against his sweaty skin, “I need you,”

Arms tangled around your bodies, his lips lock with yours and a moan escapes his throat, the salty tang of your arousal mixes on your tongues. Shoving his pants down his legs and kicking his feet from them in a fevered effort, Eddie lays you down against the soft mattress, his face hesitant, concern lacing his prominent features. Eyes almost watery with turmoil.

Holding a warm delicate hand up to his cheek you coax him to look at you, your voice wavering between frantic and needy, “Eddie, what’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, the thick of his cock is heavy against your thigh, and by the sheer weight of it, you knew he wasn’t lying about the length.

“Tooty— I, I don’t want to hurt you.” You know by the look in his eye he isn’t talking mentally, “you’re…and I’m—”

“Please,” you beg, “I want you,” slinking your fingers between your two bodies, you reach for his cock and gasp at the girthy length of soft skin as you rub it back and forth with the palm of your hand, the tips of your fingers sliding against the bulging mushroom head of his cock.

“Fuck,” he moans, biting his bottom lip, his eyes open and turn hungry, all color flushing from them but revealing the deepest onyx hue outside of the Milky Way. Adjusting your legs around him, opening wide, he lowers his head and dribbles a stringy line of spit to his dick, smearing it slightly with his thumb, easing it towards your entrance.

The smallest push of his hips has your breath suffocating in your lungs. His lips capture yours in a sweet kiss as he whimpers at your noises and the way your heated center pulls him in deeper. Clenching around him, he’s stretching your walls to full capacity with every inching of his hips.

Lips breathe air into one another as Eddie hovers over you, two faces twisted in egregious pleasure, moans coating the walls and so sugary sweet they could peel wallpaper.

Each thickened inch pressing inside of you brings endorphins to your brain, swelling your body full of Eddie. His arms quiver and his lip is almost bit in half when he finally bottoms out. A final guttural groan releases from him and you pull him down to you, sealing the triumph with a kiss and speaking against his lips letting him know he could move.

The first drag out has you suddenly feeling empty and lonely, almost pouting at the gone fullness, Eddie hisses when he pushes back in, muttering explicits into your ear as you fill his with sappy whines and whimpers.

“Doing so good for me sweetheart, sh— oh fuck,” sucking him deeper inside your gummy walls Eddie bucks his hips to a steady rhythm, covering your cheeks in kisses as you tangle your fingers in his curls, heavenly moans surround him like a halo— held up by fire colored horns dipped in black as he licks his lips and picks up the pace.

His heavy sack slaps against you almost clapping along with his thrusts as you yell his name. Tits bouncing circularly with each punch of his cock into you. He groans when your nails dig into his shoulders, eight pinked lines marking where wings would be as you fly higher and higher together.

“I’m not— Christ— I’m not gonna last here much longer baby, where do y—” he groans when you swirl your tongue around his thumb, “fuck!” He pumps harder into you and before you can say anything you’re both coming undone. Screams and moans surround the four walls as Eddie paints your insides with his cum, your pussy clenching and sucking him in, a harmonious symphony of deep abated emotions shatter down walls and engulf you both as Eddie collapses on top of you. His sweaty hair tenting round both of your faces as you both pant into eachother. Love circulating the air with tiny hearts and fluttering wings.

You’re exhausted, mentally and physically. A feeling you could certainly get used to. Eddie was so caring, so sweet. The high of your second ever orgasm still throbbing in your core and leaking down onto Eddie as you shut your eyes.

Sleep envelops you both as Eddie rolls you on top of him, kissing your nose and rubbing your naked back with the tips of his fingers, he’s still inside you, his softened length growing tired and motionless as the delicate cotton of a cool sheet hits your shoulders and your skin.

His chest is warm and slicked with sweat against your cheek, a softened lullaby of his heart beating puts you to sleep in no time.

Eddie’s a mess. Wondering if he just messed everything up. Were you comfortable? Did you enjoy yourself? Judging by the noises you were making and screaming his name he would normally think yes, indeed you had. But this was new to him. Being so deeply in love with someone and sharing the most intimate sex he had ever had. Light snores assure him that you’re okay, in a peaceful sleep, your inner demons tucked away for the night.

On the cusp of dreaming you hear it.

It’s whispered. Barely audible. But it’s there. Butterflies kiss the crown of your head and rub your back with soft petal-like wings.

“I love you, angel girl, always have— always will.”

readmore line haaaay

see you in the prequel: 1985

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #fic recs #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie fan fiction

[woso-dreamzzz]

Proud

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Summary: Your mothers come to support you at your Arsenal debut

It was to both of your mothers' annoyance that you did not, in fact, follow fully in their footsteps. You'd attended the Linköping academy, rising through the ranks on the youth team until, out of nowhere, you got a call from Jonas Eidevall asking if you were interested in playing on the Arsenal first team.

However, it took a bit of convincing on your part to get your mothers to agree to let you take the offer. You were sure that they had been convinced for years you would somehow end up at Chelsea despite not supporting them on the principle of it being the club your mothers played at.

You pulled your socks up one by one, bouncing your leg as you stared at your cleats.

"You'll do fine," Lina said to you, a hand coming up to pat your shoulder," We're facing Bristol City. Keep your head up. Don't trip. You'll do good, kiddo."

"My mums are in the crowd," You said, your voice barely above a whisper," They're here."

"Magda and Pernille aren't going to be annoyed if we don't win," Lina said," They're just here to see you play."

"That's worse." Your voice was trembling now. "They were annoyed when I signed for Arsenal. I...I don't want them to think that it's a waste for me to be here."

Stina, who had been lingering nearby, knelt in front of you. "Your mums would never think that about you. They're very proud of you. Make the most of this kid because, in a few weeks, we're going up against them."

You rolled your eyes. You didn't need to be reminded of the upcoming match against Chelsea. You just needed to focus on the present - though it wasn't exactly something you wanted to do.

"Get your shoes on," Stina said," Let's go get warmed up and have a good game. There's no need to stress."

●～●～●～●～

But, apparently, there was a need to stress because it seemed that the Bristol girls had decided you were somewhat of a threat from your position in the midfield.

You crashed to the ground again, just managing to get your leg out to kick the ball towards Katie, who started her run towards the goal.

You held back a groan of annoyance as you stood, pulling your socks back up and dusting off your shorts. You didn't bother to look up into the crowd, towards where you knew that your mothers would be watching.

You were terrified of disappointing them.

They didn't have to let you join Arsenal. They could have told you that uprooting your life in Sweden was a bad idea and you would have to wait until you were eighteen. They could have easily told you that Arsenal wouldn't be a good fit for you, that if you waited just a bit longer you could join them at Chelsea.

But they didn't.

They let you join Arsenal even though they detested the club with all their might.

They let you wear the red jersey with pride.

You didn't want to let them down.

You lined up for the corner, right by the back post near Leah. You were sandwiched between two much bigger defenders and glanced around nervously, playing with the hem of your jersey as Katie got set up.

It was a decent cross in from Katie and you jumped. You got about a head and a half higher than your defenders. The ball hit your head and soared over the goalkeeper's outstretched hands, landing smoothly into the net.

A grin lit up your face as Leah bounded over to celebrate, almost completely crushing you in her arms.

"Come on!" You vaguely heard Katie yell in celebration as Stina and Lina hugged you close, hands coming up to mess with your hair.

You snuck a look at the big screen, feeling emboldened by your goal, to see your parents screaming in celebration.

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

Your Momma was on her feet, clapping as your Morsa pumped her fist into the air. The camera picked up that she was saying something but not the actual words.

But you weren't focussed on that.

Instead, you were focused on how both of them were wearing an Arsenal jersey - your Arsenal jersey. Your Arsenal jersey with your name and your number.

"Come on, kid," Katie said, throwing an arm over your shoulder as you both walked back to your position," We've got a game to finish."

●～●～●～●～

For your debut for Arsenal, nothing could have gone better than the win that you got.

You were riding high as you scampered over to the tunnel just as your mothers walked through, having been escorted down to see you by security.

"y/n!" Momma said warmly, opening up her arms for you to crash into.

"Did you see?" You asked excitedly," Did you see? I scored!"

"You did score," Morsa said as she approached, kissing the side of your head," I'm so proud of you, baby. You did such a good job."

You grinned up at her, eyes darting between her and Momma. "You must be..." You tugged at the bottom of their shirts. "Because you're wearing an Arsenal jersey. I never thought that I would see the day."

Morsa rolled her eyes. "Well, our love for you supersedes our hatred of Arsenal."

"Did Momma tell you to say that?"

"No comment."

"Magda was very willing to put it on when she found out that I bought some," Momma said, pinching at your cheek like she did when you were younger," How could we not want to support this cute little face?"

She laughed as you tried to squirm away. You didn't get very far before you were wrapped up tight in your Momma's arms again, easily sagging against her.

"No, but seriously, how much did you have to pay her?" You asked," There's no way Morsa wore that willingly."

Magda gasped dramatically, a hand coming up to rest on her chest. "Honestly, I don't know how we've raised such a disrespectful young lady, Pernille," She teased," To think that our own daughter, thought that we wouldn't wear her jersey to support her."

You rolled your eyes. "Just last week you told me that you wouldn't be caught dead in an Arsenal jersey."

Magda scoffed, hand coming up to mess with your hair. "Don't make up lies!" She exclaimed," I believe I said that I would wear an Arsenal shirt over my cold, dead body."

"That's the same thing! Momma, tell her that's the same thing!"

Pernille just laughed though, squishing you between her and Magda. "Stop fighting you two," She said," Let's just be happy, alright? y/n did a very good job today. Keep it up. We're so proud of you."

"Yeah, kiddo," Magda said, pressing another kiss to your head," So proud of you. You debuted and scored and won on all the same day." She pulled you a little closer. "We're so proud."

"Proud enough to wear my jersey?"

"Always."

"Well, well, well," Came a teasing voice from behind you as Momma laughed and Morsa groaned as Stina wandered closer," Is that Magdalena Eriksson I see? Wearing an Arsenal jersey?"

"Shut up."

"Why don't you ever wear my Arsenal jersey, Magda?"

You stuck your tongue out at her. "She's not as proud of you as she is me."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

[reasonsforhope]

"The amount of electricity generated by the UK’s gas and coal power plants fell by 20% last year, with consumption of fossil fuels at its lowest level since 1957.

Not since Harold Macmillan was the UK prime minister and the Beatles’ John Lennon and Paul McCartney met for the first time has the UK used less coal and gas.

The UK’s gas power plants last year generated 31% of the UK’s electricity, or 98 terawatt hours (TWh), according to a report by the industry journal Carbon Brief, while the UK’s last remaining coal plant produced enough electricity to meet just 1% of the UK’s power demand or 4TWh.

Fossil fuels were squeezed out of the electricity system by a surge in renewable energy generation combined with higher electricity imports from France and Norway and a long-term trend of falling demand.

Higher power imports last year were driven by an increase in nuclear power from France and hydropower from Norway in 2023. This marked a reversal from 2022 when a string of nuclear outages in France helped make the UK a net exporter of electricity for the first time.

Carbon Brief found that gas and coal power plants made up just over a third of the UK’s electricity supplies in 2023, while renewable energy provided the single largest source of power to the grid at a record 42%.

It was the third year this decade that renewable energy sources, including wind, solar, hydro and biomass power, outperformed fossil fuels [in the UK], according to the analysis. Renewables and Britain’s nuclear reactors, which generated 13% of electricity supplies last year, helped low-carbon electricity make up 55% of the UK’s electricity in 2023.

[Note: "Third year this decade" refers to the UK specifically, not global; there are several countries that already run on 100% renewable energy, and more above 90% renewable. Also, though, there have only been four years this decade so far! So three out of four is pretty good!]

Dan McGrail, the chief executive of RenewableUK, said the data shows “the central role that wind, solar and other clean power sources are consistently playing in Britain’s energy transition”.

“We’re working closely with the government to accelerate the pace at which we build new projects and new supply chains in the face of intense global competition, as everyone is trying to replicate our success,” McGrail said.

Electricity from fossil fuels was two-thirds lower in 2023 compared with its peak in 2008, according to Carbon Brief. It found that coal has dropped by 97% and gas by 43% in the last 15 years.

Coal power is expected to fall further in 2024 after the planned shutdown of Britain’s last remaining coal plant in September. The Ratcliffe on Soar coal plant, owned by the German utility Uniper, is scheduled to shut before next winter after generating power for over 55 years.

Renewable energy has increased sixfold since 2008 as the UK has constructed more wind and solar farms, and the large Drax coal plant has converted some of its generating units to burn biomass pellets.

Electricity demand has tumbled by 22% since its peak in 2005, according to the data, as part of a long-term trend driven by more energy efficient homes and appliances as well as a decline in the UK’s manufacturing sector.

Demand for electricity is expected to double as the UK aims to cut emissions to net zero by 2050 because the plan relies heavily on replacing fossil fuel transport and heating with electric alternatives.

In recent weeks [aka at the end of 2023], offshore wind developers have given the green light to another four large windfarms in UK waters, including the world’s largest offshore windfarm at Hornsea 3, which will be built off the North Yorkshire coast by Denmark’s Ørsted."

-via The Guardian, January 2, 2024

#uk #united kingdom #england #scotland #wales #northern ireland #electricity #renewables #renewable energy #climate change #sustainability #hope posting #green energy #fossil fuels #oil #coal #solar power #wind power #environment #climate action #global warming #air pollution #climate crisis #good news #hope

[parkerslatte]

Morning Bliss

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: allusions to sex.

Summary: Y/N and Azriel enjoy a quiet morning.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

There was a chill in the morning air as Y/N snuggled closer to Azriel, grateful for the warmth he provided. Her head rested against his chest as she lightly traced his tattoos as she tilted her head to gaze at him. In his sleep he looked peaceful and perfectly at ease. Every worry and stress pushing down on his shoulders seemed to evaporate from his body. Y/N smiled. She never imagined that she would be so lucky.

“I can feel you staring,” Azriel’s voice was deep and sleepy. His eyes were still closed though there was a smile tugging on his lips. 

“I can’t help it,” Y/N mumbled. “You are gorgeous.”

A deep chuckle rumbled through Azrie’s chest. “Look who’s talking.”

Y/N’s grin widened as she began to press soft kisses against Azriel’s chest, gradually getting higher and higher until she grazed his jaw. Azriel’s arm tightened around her as he let out a content sigh. With one swift movement, Y/N slung one of her legs over Azriel’s hips and manoeuvred herself on top of him. Y/N’s face hovered above his. 

Azriel’s eyes finally opened to meet hers. A beautiful hazel that seemed to glow in the morning light. She loved his eyes so much. 

Y/N slowly moved her hand to Azriel’s jaw and slowly traced over his features. His cheekbone, his nose, his lips and back again. From below her, Azriel watched her, nothing but love in his eyes. 

Ever since Y/N had known Azriel, she knew that she loved him. It was hard not to. The two met while Azriel was on a mission in the Day Court and the moment their eyes met, the bond snapped. Despite this, the row didn’t act right away, in fact it was months before Azriel returned to the Day Court to see Y/N and discuss what everything meant. What neither of them were expecting was the connection that they had when they were together. 

Conversation flowed easily and Azriel found himself opening up to her willingly. He found himself smiling and his heart beating faster and faster whenever her arm brushed his. Y/N, who normally preferred to listen to people and only insert herself into conversation when it felt right, couldn’t stop herself from talking and failed to notice the adoring expression on Azriel’s face. 

It was only one more month before they accepted the bond. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Azriel muttered, his hand cupping her cheek. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Y/N responded. “Because you, Azriel, are beautiful, gorgeous, kind, thoughtful, talented, sexy, amazing in bed—“

Azriel cut her off by pressing his lips against hers. The kiss was tender and thoughtful and it made Y/N’s heart soar. Kissing Azriel never got boring and he took her breath away every single time. His kisses in the morning were usually tender and full of love. It was a way to try and convince her to stay in bed all day with him. Sometimes it worked but other times she simply left him reaching out for her with an adorable pout on his face. It never failed to melt Y/N’s heart. 

“Why don’t we stay in bed all day?” Azriel suggested, his lips detaching from hers briefly. 

Y/N grinned. “As much as I would love to, we will need breakfast at some point.”

Azriel groaned. “Fine, but then we are coming right back here.”

“Deal,” Y/N said as she slid from Azriel and out into the cold morning air. 

Azriel slipped out after her hand wrapped his arms around her from behind, peppering her shoulder with gentle kisses. Y/N twisted her head to gaze into Azriel’s sleepy eyes. He was normally never one to stay in bed late in the day but the day he had met Y/N, it all changed. Now all he wanted to do was stay in bed with her. 

His hair was a mess from sleep and Y/N running her fingers through it.

“You look adorable,” Y/N muttered, pecking his lips and pulling away in time to see a faint blush rising on his cheeks. 

The arms around Y/N’s arms tightened around her as a chill swept through their bedroom. Y/N shivered, even with Azriel providing her his warmth, she was still freezing. 

“I might regret getting out of bed,” Y/N muttered against his lips. 

Azriel grinned against her lips. “Are you now?”

Y/N nodded before she squealed as Azriel moved to lift her up into his arms. She wasn’t there long however as he had already thrown her onto the bed. Y/N laughed loudly but she immediately felt warmer with the soft covers underneath her. 

Azriel crawled onto the bed, his wings dragging behind him, he wasn’t making the effort to hold them up at all. He would only ever do that if he were in Y/N’s presence and completely relaxed. As Y/N lay her head against the pillows, Azriel slotted himself between her legs before he nuzzled his head into the crook of Y/N’s neck. 

With the sheets beneath ehr and Azriel’s body on top of her, Y/N was warm and she felt as if she were wrapped in a cocoon of comfort and she never wanted to break out of it. Her fingers quickly found Azriel’s hair and began to run her fingers through his soft locks, her nails grazing his scalp. Azriel let out a content sigh. 

Azriel laced his fingers with the hand that was rested down by her side and pressed a gentle kiss against her neck. “Are you warm now?”

Y/N hummed in response and pressed a kiss to Azriel’s forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Azriel responded. 

Y/N continued brushing her fingers through Azriel’s hair as his breathing began to get heavier and heavier until he had completely fallen asleep. She glanced down at his sleeping form and smiled softly. She wasn’t sure how she got so lucky. With one final kiss to his hairline, Y/N drifted off to sleep.

#azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

[macfrog]

la petite mort sex on fire chapter four

bonsoir my children. it's your cool slutty daddy, ceo!joel, back for round two of paris trip. please enjoy, i hope this one causes less confusion but just as much heart failure as last chapter. love u guys long time. literally SO much. 💘✨💓

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: you spend your second day in paris being spoiled by joel, who buys you anything you set eyes on. you’ve a treat of your own in mind as a thank-you, later on

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) another fucking confusing flashback, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), cursing, workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, more obscene spending, sexy french speaking, sugardaddy!joel, BIG flirting, alcohol consumption, sexy lingerie, lapdance, daddy kink, praise kink, unprotected piv sex, titty appreciation, assplay, double penetration, dom!joel, softdom!joel, ripping of expensive lingerie (rip), overstimulation, creampie, aftercare!joel, angst, themes of abandonment, fluff in the end i'm a romantic at heart

word count: 6.2k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“All mine?” he asks, pushing inside. He’s going slow. He’s making you answer him first. “Y-yeah,” you whine, head falling forward into the bedsheets. “All – yours.” “Spoiled, ain’t I? Such a pretty little pussy all to myself. You sure you don’t wanna share with anyone?” “No, daddy. Just – want – you.”

The late afternoon sun has dipped behind the clouds. The wind’s picked up, too. You’re standing on the terrace of your suite, elbows propped on the metal railing, watching the light slowly drain from the sky, and melt into tiny twinkling headlights on the roads below.

Paris stares straight back at you. Melancholy, in this light. A little faded, worn, a washed gray as she loses her fight with the slow-setting sun. Your eyes trace the skyline, jumping from buildings to streetlights, following birds in the distance as they loop and soar over the city. Free. Held down to nothing, and no one.

When you close your eyes, he’s on the couch beside you. Blue-eyed stare cloudy, eyes puffy and red with tears he’s doing everything to hold back. Calling you sweetheart, telling you we can work through this. He’s got your bare fingers in his, thumbs running across your knuckles, rubbing circles around the empty space on your third finger. You have an impulse to stand up and walk out. You think you might follow through with it.

You don’t even hear him come in, don’t hear him call your name. Only feel when his arm snakes around your waist and he turns you to face him. Your eyes flutter back open.

“Hey,” Joel says, leaning back to look you up and down. “Nice robe.”

His fingers toy with the belt, thumb running across the soft terrycloth.

“You smell like whiskey,” you mutter, hands resting on his chest. You take a deep breath, pushing the relief you feel now that he’s back, down to the pit of your stomach. And then you finally look him in the eye. “How was Jean-Marc?”

Joel shrugs. “Same as usual. Wants to meet you.”

“You mentioned me?”

He bypasses your question. “Said I’d check with you, but he wants to have us for breakfast tomorrow.”

You nod. “Sounds like a nice guy.”

Joel grumbles, his lips tighten, and he looks out over the view behind you. You tilt your head and his hands take yours, dropping them to your side. His eyes fall low, past the tie he was just messing with.

“You gettin’ ready to go?”

“I was about to, yeah,” you reply, breathing a laugh when he starts to kneel in front of you. “Joel.”

“Mhm?” he asks, but he’s not listening, is he? His hands run up your legs, starting at your knees, and push the edges of your robe apart the higher they go.

“We – gotta – Joel,” you sigh, head rolling back, hands gripping the railing.

Joel’s lips part on your inner thigh, his tongue runs along your skin, trailing northward. His hands precede, pushing under your robe now to cup your naked ass, when he lifts his chin and glances up.

“Nothin’ on under it, baby,” he whispers, tsking. “’m I gonna do with you?”

“We have–” you shudder when his fingers move between your legs, “–to go get ready.”

“So go.”

Fucker.

You lean back against the glass, eyes quickly scanning the hotel in front of you, searching the neighboring windows for any prying eyes, but in the slow-moving blanket of dusk, mixed with your will to care quickly depleting, you find none.

Your attention draws back to Joel, whose lips run dangerously close to your center.

“Open, baby,” he says, and you don’t think about it. Your body just does what he tells it to.

Your legs fall open, head lulls to one side, fingers move through his hair. His jaw lowers, breath gently tickling your soft skin, and then his lips cup around your mound.

You breathe a sigh of relief. Which quickly morphs into a moan, open-mouthed and broken, when Joel’s tongue sweeps over your clit.

“There,” you whisper, a little more serious than you intended, “do that – again.”

He obeys, wet tongue licking you again while his hands pull your thighs over his shoulders. Your weight shifts onto his body, back arching as he sucks on the sensitive bud.

Your hips roll, needing him a little more and a little further south. And he hears you, again. He takes a hand off of your leg, middle and ring fingers joining together to push up between your folds and inside you, dragging a whine from your lips.

“Yeah,” you moan, feeling yourself driving into his mouth and fucking yourself on his hand at the same time.

“Taste so sweet, pretty girl,” he mumbles, mouth preoccupied.

Your head falls back, body slung over the balcony, thighs spreading ever so slightly to have more of him on more of you. And then your head starts to dizzy, your body hums in pleasure, your cunt starts to throb.

But before it goes any further, he’s pulling away.

His lips leave first. Then he draws his hand from between you, sucks his fingers clean and stands. Is he fucking –

“– serious?” you ask, jolting back to life.

He smirks, tongue pushing around his cheeks. “Hurry up ‘n get ready. I wanna go down to the bar for a drink before the car comes.”

And then he’s turning on his heel, striding back inside.

“And what about me?”

“What about you?” he calls over his shoulder.

Your hands hit your thighs with a slap. “Fucking…sadist,” you hiss after him, following him into the warmly lit living room of your suite and down the hallway to the bedroom. Trying to ignore the ache between your legs which only grows worse the more you move.

“I’ll take good care of you later, angel.”

He sits back against the dresser at the foot of the bed, nods toward the black dress you’d laid out on the mattress an hour ago.

“Go on.”

“Go on what?”

“Show me the dress I paid three grand for on you, instead of it laying on the fuckin’ bed.”

You roll your eyes and storm by him, grabbing the black fabric, and lock yourself in the bathroom.

“’n don’t you think about finishin’ yourself!” Joel calls through the door.

“Fuck you!” you throw back, hearing his cocky laugh echo around the room.

You untie your robe in front of the mirror, letting it drop off of your shoulders into a pool of white cloth at your feet. Your eyes flit down your naked body – scanning from your shoulders over your breasts, around your tummy and down your thighs. You slip the black material over your head – a little stretch in it, just enough to mold around your body – and tug it down until it sits comfortably on your thighs.

The smooth skirt sits perfectly on your hips, curving around your ass and pulling in at your waist. You adjust the thin straps, fixing your breasts into place above a cut-out, just revealing enough. Backless, of course, straps crisscrossing over your skin.

It's skimpy, and it’s sexy, and it’s enough to make you look expensive as fuck and also make Joel want to rip it off of you the second you two make it back to the suite.

Enough to make him want to rip it off you before you’ve even left the suite, going by his reaction when you step out of the bathroom. He catches you in the mirror whilst he buttons his shirt, and turns, mouth falling open, eyes dancing all across your body.

You wordlessly sit, slip your feet into the heels you’d chosen, and fish the diamond-encrusted jewelry Joel had bought you from its box – pull the necklace around your neck, clip the earrings into place, and push the bracelets over your wrist. Then, you sling your jacket over your arm, and stand.

“I’m ready.”

“You…” His eyes scan down you again, settling on your chest for a couple seconds. “Yeah, baby. Give me five minutes.”

----------

The hotel bar reflects perfectly the intimidating grandeur of your suite, despite being a small room. It’s intimate, and pleasant, lit in a warm glow, and as you stroll in on Joel’s arm beneath a huge, ornate chandelier, you feel a smile pull across your lips. You’re not fucking sure why.

He leads you over to two heavy leather stools, pulling one out and waiting for you to hop up on it before he sits beside you. He orders two glasses of red wine, and the waiter craftily pours a small drop into one glass, setting it down in front of you and waiting for you to take a sip and approve before he pours the rest.

“Pétrus,” the waiter says, focusing intently on filling Joel’s glass. “Most expensive wine in France.”

You shoot Joel a look, but he’s already lifting his glass, glint in his eye. You hesitantly pick yours up and bump it into his, taking another sip.

“Good?” Joel asks, licking his lips.

You nod. “A little too good.”

He laughs. Then he nods at the waiter, who smiles, turns to you, and winks.

You smile back, a little embarrassed. “Merci beaucoup.”

As the waiter leaves you both, Joel turns, a look on his face you’ve never seen before. “Nice accent,” he says.

You scoff. “I hope it’s a nice accent, I studied it for six years.”

“Studied French?”

You nod.

“When?”

“High school, and then all through college.”

“How did I not know that about you?”

“It’s on my resume,” you say into your wine glass, “which I now know you didn’t read when you hired me.”

“Didn’t have to,” Joel replies. “I took one look at your pretty face ‘n decided you had the job.”

Him and his quick fucking wit. He almost catches you blushing, but you save it by shaking your head, and looking at the striped-wall room around you. There’s a framed picture of a horse on the wall behind Joel. Two men sit in animated conversation on the velvet couch below it, one of them clutching a wine that’s about to spill over.

When your eyes drift back to Joel, his are fixated elsewhere.

“Oh, be less obvious, Joel,” you mutter, corners of your mouth twitching.

“Can’t help it,” he finally draws his gaze from your chest, “they look so good. That dress is…” He shakes his head.

“You chose well.”

“Say somethin’ French to me.”

“Uh, no.”

“Uh, yeah. Tell me I chose well in French.”

“Tell me how the meeting went.”

Joel sits back, pushing air out of his cheeks. “Can’t do that.”

“Then no French.”

“Baby, c’mon. Just for me.”

You shake your head, pouting your lip. “Nope.”

Joel pleads a few more times, promises he’ll buy you more things, promises he’ll order more wine, even promises he’ll fuck you in the bathroom right now if you’ll just say one sentence in French to him.

You don’t relent.

Not until you’re a couple more wines deep, leaning into one another, your knees between his, pointing out other guests in the room and conjuring make-believe backstories for them.

“That one,” you say, hushed, shoulder brushing off of Joel’s, “in the corner, by the lamp. He’s waitin’ for a date, a Tinder date, who–”

Joel snorts. “A Tinder date?”

“–a Tinder date, who used photos of Cindy Crawford on her profile.”

Joel’s head tips back with laughter, his hand steadies himself on the bar. “If Cindy Crawford ends up walkin’ in here, you’re gonna be real sorry.”

You lean into his shirt, giggling into the cotton. When you lift your head, the two of you quietening again, you look into his eyes.

Blurry around the edges, a little too much wine in your system, you whisper: “Kiss me.”

Joel’s head cocks. He leans in, and you lift your jaw. His lips part, breath hot over your red lips, and he says, “You’re gonna get us into trouble, darlin’.”

“Je m’en fous,” you reply.

“Monsieur,” a voice from your right breaks between you, “your car is outside.”

Joel straightens up, clears his throat, and thanks the waiter with another nod. His palm runs along the bar toward your arm, which he takes, rubbing his thumb gently over your skin, and he nods again toward the doors.

----------

Dinner was as fucking extreme as all of this has been. Food you’d never seen before, a menu you could barely translate even with language experience. Waiters who arrived at your table if you so much as looked up at them.

And more wine. A lot more wine.

You both stumble back into the suite, arms linked, laughter chorusing against the beige walls. Joel keeps a vice grip on your hand as you spin around him, wrapping you up in his arms when you’re close enough, and runs a thumb across your cheek when you’ve stopped giggling.

“That was fun,” he says, and you nod.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For all of it. I don’t even know what to say.”

He shakes his head in response. “You’re my guest.”

“Didn’t have to be,” you say, “could’ve brought Martha.”

“Oh, yeah, Martha. She’d be a fuckin’ hoot.”

He lets go of you, your laughter picking back up, and you split off. Joel wanders over to the minibar, and you…you wander off down the hall.

You’ve something in mind.

Safely in the bedroom, you slink over to your case and lift the bag you’d hidden in there earlier. You sneak into the bathroom, closing the door as softly as possible, and whip your little black dress over your head. You turn back to the mirror.

Same reflection as before. Same naked body. A little faded, a little unfocused, jewelry catching the light like stars in the night sky, but the same.

You reach into the white bag, like it’s a lucky draw, and lift out the soft black lace. One by one, you add each little piece – the bra cups your breasts, lifting them just the right amount. The panties sit on your hips, garter belt just above, hooked onto thigh-high, lace top stockings. And finally, the robe.

You tie it loosely at your waist, leaving it just open enough to reveal the balconette bra underneath. One last hazy look in the mirror, and you tumble back out into the bedroom and over to the door.

Your fingers clutch the gold handle, shaking a little. The cold metal bites against your skin, hot with adrenaline and determination. You twist, pulling gently on the door, and wander back to the living room.

The lights are still out, the room dark against the sparkling cityscape. There’s soft music playing, some seventies soul stuff. He’s on the balcony. The sliding doors open wide, sheer curtains swaying gently in the night breeze. His silhouette stands black against the glittering Eiffel Tower in front of him. He’s holding a whiskey.

You slip out from behind the door and let it close over gently, walking slowly across the soft carpet toward him. He can’t have heard you, you’re being too quiet, but he turns anyway, and spots you in the middle of the room.

His eyes rake down your figure, mouth falling agape. Whiskey almost spilling over from how limp his arms fall.

“Baby…” he whispers.

You take another step forward. So does Joel. Your hand reaches for the back of one of the chairs, tucked neatly under the dining table. You drag it along the carpet, setting it just in front of you, facing him, and stand back.

“Want you to sit.”

Joel nods, a voiceless Okay sneaks past his lips, and he sits back in the chair, placing the whiskey at his feet.

The song fades into a steady love song, string orchestra echoing in the background, slow, sultry. The smooth vocals fill the room, quiet and relaxing, and push you nearer him, rounding the back of the chair.

Your hands run over Joel’s shoulders as you curve around to face him, and slot in between his parted thighs. Watching as his eyes shift up and down your figure. Watching as his breath hitches, his chest shuddering anytime you move.

You’re ignoring the rise and fall of your own chest; nerves and desire and complete fucking disbelief at what you’re doing all fighting to break through. Your stomach is flipping, pulse jerking every time your eyes cross paths with Joel’s.

You nudge his legs open wider, lift his wrists, and place his hands on your waist. His fingers pull on the silk belt, loosening your robe until he’s slipping it over your shoulders, revealing every inch of lace and strap of satin to his lust-blown eyes.

“This all for me?” he asks, fucking…wonderstruck. His fingers dance along the garter belt, dipping where it clips onto your stockings.

You cock your head in a shrug. “You paid for it.”

He smiles. As if it’s Christmas and you just gave him the gift at the top of his wish list. And then you bend your knees, lowering between his thighs and dragging your hands down his front, stopping by his stiffening crotch as you go.

Joel hisses through clenched teeth, spurring you on. You palm him through his trousers, never touching his zipper, only letting him go so far as grinding his hips into your hands, before your palms slip down to his knees and you push yourself up.

Joel meets you halfway, leans forward to let your lips ghost across his. Your back arched, knees digging into the plush carpet, you trail your tongue from his chin down his bearded jawline, stopping when you reach the collar of his shirt.

And then you stand again, taking his hands and replacing them on your body. Anywhere on your fucking body. Feeling him on you is like feeling the soothing flicker of the fire after a walk in the freezing cold, and when his palms aren’t pressing against your ribcage, his fingers aren’t running between your thighs, that bitter cold bites back.

Joel hums, still taking you in through glassy eyes. “So…fuckin’ beautiful, babygirl.”

In response, you lift your knees, placing them one by one on either side of his hips. You settle against his body and push him back in the chair.

Your clothed heat lowers onto his waist, lace running across the rough fabric of his trousers, forcing a choked moan from your lips at the contact. Your skin alight, nerves burning with excitement and arousal, the slightest touch only fuels the fire more.

You grind down on him, hips rocking in time with the music. Letting his hands hold you around your back, letting him feel any part of you he fucking wants. His fingers knead roughly into your round ass, and he bucks up against your core.

You hover over him, running a hand from your stomach over your chest, stopping to squeeze your tits through your bra. And then back down again, to slip over the lace of your panties and relieve the tension there even if only for a second before you’re feeling down your thighs.

You link your arms back around Joel’s shoulders. “You gonna pay me back?” you whisper, head lowering to bury into his neck.

“No idea what you’re talkin’ about,” he slurs back.

You suck a mark into the hot skin, breathing against his pulse, “Think you do, daddy. You owe me one.”

His head rolls, bass of his laughter vibrating against your lips. “So fuckin’ slutty, darlin’. You want it that bad?”

“Mhm,” you mewl, lips still tight against his neck, fingers slowly unbuttoning his shirt lower and lower.

Joel told Martha he needed you here only to keep him right. Make sure he got everywhere on time, make sure things ran smoothly. Drop off drycleaning, pick it up before he had appearances. Get him pastries from that patisserie he loves around the corner for breakfast. There’s an empty suite downstairs that he made her book for you – an almost three grand per night suite that you both knew the entire fucking time you’d never set foot in. All to keep up with the story.

The story that you’re here strictly on PA duty. Seeing him off in cars, making sure he gets back to the hotel at night. And that’s it. Not buying lingerie with his card, and putting it on for him, and mounting him in the living room of his suite. Not letting him slip your panties to the side and run his cock through your folds, balcony doors wide open, moans escaping out into the late Parisian night.

But now his hands are on you, really on you; strong, wide hands, slipping around your waist, pressing down on the lace of your lingerie, massaging the softest parts of your body and scooping under your ass to align you to his length.

And you’re letting him.

Your hands are sifting through his hair as he breathes you in, his nose buried between your breasts. Your back arches when he finally enters you, giving you what you need most in the form of his thick cock pushing up into your warm cunt.

Like there’s nothing new, or weird, or different. Like this is all you know how to do; all you’ve ever known about him. You’re not in the office; he’s not your boss. He doesn’t tell you to shred files or organize his schedule.

This is what he does. This. He asks things of you with his hands and you fold every time. He runs his lips along the curve of your breasts and peels the delicate fabric of your bra down to wrap his mouth around your nipple, flick his tongue across it until your head rolls back and you’re moaning his name to the ceiling.

“Make yourself cum, baby,” Joel breathes against your hot skin.

His tongue is swirling around your nipple. Teeth grazing the pointed bud. He’s grinning to himself as he does it. He’s fucking lapping this up.

“So pretty when you’re wrapped around me.”

And then his fingers are toying with the clasp of your bra, and as you sink down over and over on his cock, he lets the cupped lace fall to the floor, lips instantly returning to their place on your tits.

You hold his head there, looking down and watching while you slowly bounce on his cock as he kisses, caresses, sucks.

The pleasure boiling between your legs starts to spill over, your body unable to take much more without releasing. And when Joel mumbles against your skin, “Can feel you, darlin’, squeezing me so tight,” you let go.

Your orgasm, nearly four hours in the making, rocks through your body in tidal waves, throwing your head back. Joel’s arms keep you safe on his lap as you writhe, gasping and moaning his name until you can think straight again.

When you come back to, he lifts you up. Carries you like you’re made of diamonds through to the bedroom and lays you down on the soft mattress, calling you angel, telling you you’re the prettiest fuckin’ girl he’s ever seen.

He dips his fingers and traces them along your panties, feeling the mess you just made, humming in amusement. He asks again if this is all for him and when you moan out a desperate Yeah, daddy, he tells you he’s gonna make you cum again.

He takes your waist and flips you over, propping you up on your knees in front of him. He peels the white shirt from his shoulders, tossing it somewhere in the dark room, and asks if that’s what you want – to cum again. Yeah, daddy.

And when he asks who this tight little pussy belongs to, leaning forward to align with your wet mess of a cunt, your thighs spreading to accommodate the size of him, every fucking nerve in your body on fire: You, daddy.

“All mine?” he asks, pushing inside. He’s going slow. He’s making you answer him first.

“Y-yeah,” you whine, head falling forward into the bedsheets. “All – yours.”

“Spoiled, ain’t I? Such a pretty little pussy all to myself. You sure you don’t wanna share with anyone?”

“No, daddy. Just – want – you.”

Every fucking time. Every mindless, depraved time, you do it for him. Only for him.

You cum again on his cock before he’s even five thrusts in. His words send you hurtling over the edge by themselves; the massive dick burying itself between your legs is just a bonus – and something to let your walls clamp around when your back arches, chest pushes into the mattress, and your orgasm floods over you.

Joel rocks his hips slowly as you come down, cunt swollen and almost agony. His hands run from your thighs up around the globe of your ass, massaging gently. You push back, wanting more pressure from his hands, and his fingers slip against your tight hole.

You jut forward with a moan. A moan Joel knows all too well.

“Easy, easy.” He holds you steady, replacing his fingers against your asshole, pressing delicately. “You like that?”

“Fuck,” you breathe, “mhm.”

“Yeah?”

You’re nodding, though you know he can’t see you in the dark.

“Baby?”

“Yeah,” you choke out. Desperate. Depraved.

He lifts his hand and spits; you feel a bead of saliva dribble down your ass, only to be collected by the pads of his fingertips and dragged back up. Smeared over the ring of your ass, massaged into the sensitive skin around it.

“Daddy…” you moan, hips gyrating.

“’s a good girl,” Joel replies, “just relax, darlin’, you do that for me?”

You can hear in his voice he’s focusing. Eyes glued on your ass, watching as you open up around his first finger, pushing slowly inside.

Your whole body freezes as he enters you. Breath cuts short in your throat. Your mouth falls open, throat constricted around a moan.

“Breathe, babygirl.”

And you do. Well, it’s more of a gasp, a broken whine, and then a long, needy sigh, curled up at the end like it’s a request – a plea for Joel to keep going.

It’s tight. It feels…tender, and overwhelming, and good. More than good. Your hips move backward, pushing onto Joel; a swelling feeling overcoming you, the more of him you take.

“Good girl…” he whispers again.

You’re as fucking shocked as he is that you’re letting him do it – letting him slip inside both holes at once, exploring one while keeping the other content with lazy thrusts.

“Think you can take it, baby?”

“Yeah, daddy,” you tell him, body urging him to fuck you again.

So, he does. His cock picks up speed, finger knuckle-deep, curling around inside your ass. You’re gripping the bedsheets, whimpering softly into them, feeling your stomach tighten as your third orgasm begins to rise.

“Keep – doing – that,” you utter as his hips collide with yours, his thick finger picking up pace ever so slightly.

“Such a dirty girl. So fuckin’ dirty for me. You do this for all of ‘em, baby?”

The laugh you breathe answers his question. No, you don’t fucking do this – for anyone. You didn’t know until five minutes ago this was something you were into. It’s Joel. He’s the only one who could convince you – whether through his words, his expressions, or just his fucking body – to –

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whine.

“Know you are, pretty girl,” Joel says, “let me feel you. Cum all over me.”

Your body collapses when your high takes over. Electricity thrumming through you, contracting around Joel’s cock and his finger. He coos you through it, whispers words of praise and filth in your ear until you’re no longer screaming, no longer able to hold yourself up.

He slowly removes his finger, soaked with his spit. You whine as it leaves you, missing the feeling, but it’s not long before his hands are on you again, flipping you back over.

He drags the clothes from his legs and pushes you up the mattress, slotting between your hips, one hand coming down to grip the lace front of your panties. He rips it, tearing the material off of your body in one motion.

You gasp, equal parts aroused as you are fucking outraged. You liked those panties. You wanted to keep ‘em.

“Fuck, Joel!”

He pushes back against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck to dot kisses along your skin.

“Buy you more, baby.”

“This whole getup,” you moan, “it cost you a grand.”

He lifts his head. “Well, in that case,” he kisses your collarbone, “buy you ten more.”

Your eyes roll back and your head follows, sinking deep into the sheets under your body. You’re sure you know where this is going, what he’s about to ask of you. You’re not sure you can give it to him. Three orgasms deep, you can barely feel when he’s massaging your sex, never mind lining his cock to it and pushing the tip inside.

“One more, angel,” he utters, looking down to guide himself through your glistening folds. “Just one more.”

“Can’t, daddy,” you whimper, but he pushes your thighs up, bending your knees. It’s borderline painful, the stretch you feel when he’s barely an inch inside.

“Yes, you can. Know you can.”

He could fuck you and cum himself without asking you to – and you’d be okay with it. You know it. He knows it. Just a few tight, wet thrusts and he’d be coming undone inside you. But he wants to do it together. Loves the way you feel when you tighten around him, squeeze him, draw his release out of him. Loves the way your voices sound together, the way you grip onto him and pull him flush against your body.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, too. The way he looks when he’s deep inside you, eyes shut, focused on nothing except the pretty noises you make and the sweet way you wrap around him, warm and snug. So you let him take you to the edge again, throw your arms around him, and fall.

Hard.

The shock of it surges through you, stars burst across your vision. You drive your nails into his shoulders, scream out into the night, moans mixed with curses and gasps and – fuck it – cries of daddy loud enough that the thought of a noise complaint at your door floats through your mind.

Joel lets out a deep groan when he cums, filling your tight cunt with his seed, face still buried in your neck. Your legs untense, thighs slip down his waist and onto the bed, your arms unlink from around his neck.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans into your skin.

You’re panting, chest lifting against Joel’s. He pushes into the mattress and rolls off of you, dropping in a heap to the bed at your side. You lay like that for a while, waiting for the fluttering feeling to subside, waiting for any feeling to come back to your body.

Joel pushes off of the bed and dips into the bathroom, still groaning anytime he moves. Water runs for a couple minutes, a gentle whirring as he cools his face and washes up, and then he’s back in the bedroom, sinking into the bed beside you.

He props himself up on his elbow and runs a hand across your damp forehead, unsticking your hair from your face. Intimate, vulnerable. You’ve slept together four times now, and this is the closest you’ve felt to him.

You push down an ache, different to the one he just satisfied – four times over. No, this is deeper. Somewhere more hidden. An ache for him to hold you, run his hands down your back until your body feels like yours again. An ache for him to take you in his strong arms and keep you still, keep you steady.

An ache that feels…dangerous. An ache you want to disappear. Now.

“You okay?” Joel asks, and you nod.

He studies you for a while, looking up and down your body, smiling to himself. This isn’t something either of you are going to forget for a while.

“What’s this?”

Joel takes gentle hold of the gold chain around your sweat-glistening neck, running it between his fingers until he’s holding one half of a broken heart.

“Notice you wearin’ it all the time.”

You take a deep breath before replying, watching as he looks at it intently in his hand. “My mom has the other half. It makes up a heart. We got ‘em when I was sixteen, right after…”

Joel’s eyes drift up to yours when your sentence crumbles. His soft gaze encourages you to continue.

“…right after my dad left.”

He almost winces.

You’d always hated Wednesdays. Wednesdays meant Math, and Math meant two hours of sitting in total confusion, dodging your teacher’s requests for answers and counting down the minutes until class ended.

But your dad told you that you should do well in it, so you were trying. For him.

One Wednesday, Miss Pepperman handed out the results of the previous week’s test. You’d scored well, maybe not as good as some of the others, but decent by your own standards. You snuck the test paper into your bag to take back home, show your dad. Make him…proud.

When you rounded the corner to your street, his car was in the drive, trunk wide open. Suitcases inside. You caught him leaving as you wandered by the beat-up Toyota.

Your mom wants you in the house, he’d said, a cardboard box of files in his clutches.

You tried to ask what the fuck was going on, but he’d yelled at you and thrown the box into his back seat. And then you brought up the test paper, twisted around to fish it out of your bag, like some stupid C would convince him to stay. He yelled louder, and you disappeared inside like a spooked cat.

Your mom was on the couch, face in her hands. She lifted her head, cheeks stained with mascara and tears. As you sat down beside her, you heard the engine of his car roll away. You never saw him again.

You don’t tell Joel all of this. He doesn’t need to know, and he doesn’t ask. Telling him about the C in Math risks telling him about the way your dad looked at you when you held up the crumpled paper, and that risks telling him about everything you’ve ever held back from saying to anyone, for fear of seeing that same bored, disappointed expression.

It feels like a hand you’re not quite ready to play just yet. An ace or two missing, only a couple of cards off of feeling confident enough to show him.

Instead, you shrug, and say, “That was…thirteen years ago now. And we just never take ‘em off. It’s like our little promise to, like…stay together, or whatever.”

He nods, letting the necklace rest back on your naked chest.

There’s something in the air between you. Quiet, unassuming. An understanding, though you’re not sure what of. But it feels comfortable, which you weren’t expecting when he asked the question. Nobody knows much about you and your dad – not even your closest friends. And here you are, naked and exhausted, letting the words tumble out to none other than your boss.

But he’s so blasé about it, so unperturbed by it that, if he hadn’t been the one to ask himself, you could mistake it for disinterest. He just listens, nods, and lets it pass over. Lets you drop it, when you’re done talking about it.

For the second time tonight, this time a little more sober but a little less guarded, you say, “Kiss me.”

And this time, he doesn’t ask you to speak French. Doesn’t make any witty quip, doesn’t warn you you’re walking dangerous territory. Doesn’t even hesitate, not for a beat. Just leans in, cups your cheek with one hand, and presses his lips to yours.

Warm, sweaty, almost quivering lips. Soft, and kind, and safe. You melt into him, wrapping both hands around his wrist, shutting your eyes and pretending just for a moment that you’re not teetering along a knife edge right now.

You pull back, losing your balance on the tightrope you’re walking, and Joel’s hand slowly drops from your face. His eyes ask if you’re okay, and you nod. I’m fine. This is fine.

“Alright,” he says, sitting up with a sigh. “You want a drink?”

You nod again. “Water, please.”

He strokes your thigh once and walks out of the room, leaving you in the quiet dark by yourself.

You bring your fingertips up to your eyes. Exhale deeply into the palms of your hands. Think about what just happened, and then tell yourself not to think much about it. Think about that fucking twinge in the bottom of your stomach, the one that felt like…yearning. And then tell yourself, fucking – order yourself not to read too much into it, or you’ll drive yourself up the wall.

Because the truth of it is: you’ve one more full day in Paris, and you highly suspect that what happened here tonight, is gonna happen all over again tomorrow. And that leaves room for that yearning feeling to come back. Resurface, like a silent predator in murky waters.

That won’t happen tomorrow. It can’t happen tomorrow.

You stand and throw that white terrycloth robe over yourself, heading for the living room.

----------

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[its-avalon-08]

Hi hiii!! Can I request lando watching y/n perform think of me from the phantom of the opera??

my angel, my haven

(this is super different from what i usually write so im sorry if its shit)

lando's pov :

the crimson velvet curtains billowed outwards, revealing a stage bathed in the soft glow of a gaslight replica. y/n stood center stage, the spotlight catching the way her sequined gown shimmered like a thousand scattered diamonds. her back was straight, her posture radiating an ethereal confidence that sent a jolt through me. i couldn't tear my eyes away.

think of me, think of me fondly

this wasn't the first time i'd seen y/n perform. we'd been together since our karting days, but tonight, something felt different. maybe it was the grandeur of the opera house, the hushed reverence of the audience, or maybe it was just the way the stage lights painted her face in a thousand dramatic strokes. whatever it was, it took my breath away.

we never said our love was evergreen

as the opening notes of "think of me" swelled from the orchestra pit, a familiar warmth bloomed in my chest. it wasn't just the beauty of the music, though that was undeniable. it was the way y/n inhabited the song, her voice soaring through the theatre with a power and control that never ceased to amaze me. it was a voice that could shatter glass and soothe a broken heart, all in the same breath.

think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned

as she sang, a thousand memories flickered through my mind. goofy backstage moments, stolen kisses in the pit lane, late-night talks where her dreams intertwined with mine. here she was, living out one of those dreams, and i was lucky enough to witness it. a thrill of possessiveness, quickly doused by a wave of pure pride, washed over me. how could this incredibly talented, captivating woman be mine?

recall those days, look back on all those times

her voice climbed higher, weaving a tapestry of emotions with each note. christine's longing, the phantom's obsession, it all poured out of her, raw and unfiltered. her voice sounded like a dream. the audience was enthralled, hanging onto her every word. and me? i was lost in a world of my own creation, a world where the opulent stage was replaced by a dimly lit garage, the smell of grease oil replaced by the sweet scent of her hair. in that world, it wasn't christine pining for a masked figure, it was y/n, my y/n, captivating me with her talent and her love.

but please promise me that sometimes, you will think of me

the final note faded, leaving a stunned silence in its wake. then, as if a dam had broken, the applause erupted. it was a thunderous roar that shook the very foundation of the building. a wide smile bloomed on y/n's face, as radiant as the spotlight itself. as she caught my eye and smiled i felt all the stars align. in that moment, i knew. no matter what challenges life threw our way, no matter how bright her star might shine, she would always find her way back to me. and i, the luckiest man alive, would be waiting.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

thanks for reading and sending in your request! do send in more! 🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

#lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norizz #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #formula 1 #f1 imagine #formula one #red bull racing #y/n #phantom of the opera #request #ava speaks #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 x y/n #ln4 #ln4 one shot