joe-leviari

[joe-leviari]

[joe-leviari]

is she role-playing with herself......dear god

[joe-leviari]

forgive me father for i have sexualized an older man

[joe-leviari]

I deserve to be eaten out by a hard faced, morally grey, 6’4 knight whilst I’m wearing some fancy medieval dress tbh

[joe-leviari]

yes, babe, you’re sick and twisted, will you come back to bed- what? yes, of course you’re evil and irredeemable. now can you please cuddle with me

[joe-leviari]

"Stay. Here."

[joe-leviari]

If you're struggling to write sex, write food. if you're struggling to write food, write gore. if you're struggling to write gore, write sex. They're all variations on the same themes.

[joe-leviari]

I am no longer the same person after seeing this

[joe-leviari]

dark-ish simon but only because he cares :(

thinking about how you were doing something menial, like taking out the trash when simon's on leave and he tries to reach for the bags but—

"i've got it, simon. i'm strong and independent too, y'know?" it's such an innocuous comment. light as a feather but it lands heavily on simon's psyche. it'd been a gentle tease meant to brush off his assistance.

but insecurity takes hold instead. an unwanted seed taking root in his head. it has him spiraling, your words twisting and turning, taking a life of their own.

what now? first it's the trash, then it'll be the groceries. the car note. the mortgage. how long will it take until he's no longer wanted? no longer needed?

he watches you, silent as ever, as you titter around with a soft smile on your lips as you water the drying plants on the windowsill. take out a step stool to reach for the cups on the top shelf. open a jar of pickles with a knife, sliding the pointed tip of it under the lid until the seal breaks with a pop.

you've learned to live without him.

he can feel the ground beneath him crumble.

it strangles the last tatters of rationality he has. (not like he had much of a grasp on it to begin with, especially where you're concerned.) he can't have you thinking of him as a choice. to cast him aside, to realize that there's probably better out there for you. someone who won't be gone for months at a time, who won't flirt with death daily.

not when you're it for him.

it grips at his racing heart, panic digging its spurs into his chest. he needs you with a ferocity that transcends obsession. and he needs to be needed by you in equal measure.

it's not just about him anymore— it's about you. 'us'. he won't let you slip through his fingers like grains of sand, not when you're the only reason he fights to come back home. the steady rhythm of your heart, when he lays his head on your chest, is the closest thing to peace he'll ever know.

his determination hardens like tempered steel, his purpose sharpening. simon walks the tightrope of moral ambiguity at all times. nothing new.

this is the only way, he tells himself. the only way to reaffirm his place in your world.

your quiet voice fills the silence of your shared flat as you ramble about the latest gossip there is at your job, unaware that simon is currently messaging johnny and kyle the closest thing to a plea for help they'll ever get from him.

meet me at the usual in an hour. we'll talk then.

he's going to do what he does best.

keep the bad men away.

you'll never know a thing.

[joe-leviari]

A love letter to Older!König

I dunno what to tell you besties I’m just so hot for him. Battle worn and tired, urghhhh just let him snooze in the sun with his greys, glasses askew.

Smut MDNI ta x

You gaze at your man, spread casually across his expensive leather sofa, one hand resting on your thigh as you cuddle up next to him.

They’re lightly sun damaged, thick stubby fingers calloused from years of hard work and coarse environments. Broad palms toughened, but so warm against your bare flesh, covering most of the skin with their span. Little healed slash marks from war torn regions speckled over the knuckles.

You know he used to fight, seeking out conflict on and off base, able to create an enemy in every situation. But now he’s mellow, you met him as the boyish impulses drained out of his personality, like the setting sun on a fierce horizon. Now all that’s left is a stillness, the twilight marking how comfortable he is in his skin. The need to prove himself worthy fading into the background of his mind, still omnipresent but quieter now than it ever has been before.

The confidence of age, that self assuredness hard fought for and won with every rung of the career ladder he scaled. König has been broken, rebuilt and shattered into echoing pieces more times than he can count. The churlish resentments of his youth forgotten and replaced by heavier ones. Each muscle wrapping his large frame has been injured at sometime or another, his weary body still bearing the scars of many slices and gunshot wounds.

He’s been pained by words, metal blades and sheer destruction, both internal and external for most of his life. But now he rests comfortably against you, the casual domesticity he’s always craved held tightly in his clutched fists. He adores it, every soft morning he gets to see your face bathed in a glow of light, each candle filled night he climbs into bed beside you. König had the fancy house, but it wasn’t a home until he met you.

The lean ridges and planes of his body are softer now, covered by a layer of fat gained through giggled sessions of home cooking. Sitting on the marble countertop, letting him feed you from his spoon, a lopsided smile making laughter lines crinkle around the blue of his eyes.

König’s reading glasses are balanced precariously on his head, pushed upwards roughly so he can rest his novel over his face. He’s dozing peacefully under it, lulled by the comfort of your body melded to his.

Without the need for a harsh military crop, his hair is longer, salt and pepper in colour with flecks of silver gathering in his stubble too. You curl his greying locks around your fingers sometimes, making him rumble with deep approval as his shoulders hunch against you.

König still likes to feel you scratch at his scalp, drive stripes of red over his back, but he lives for your kindness too. A wild creature tamed under the softness of your touch, one so fiercely feral for so long, but now that reckless energy is dedicated to your honour.

Because he does honour you, worships at your feet, his wife if not in name yet certainly in spirit. König doesn’t fuck ruthlessly anymore unless you beg him, far preferring the gentle moments spent languishing between your legs. His heavy hands in your hair, face nodding into the dainty cleft under your chin, while he rocks into your cunt, savouring every single minute of it.

You’re like a drug, the curves of your body fitting perfectly against his, until he’s sure you were made specifically for him. Sometimes it’s like a dream, one he’s afraid he might wake up from, finding himself alone with his own self hatred again. When he occasionally starts, shuddering with night terrors that still haunt the corners of his mind, you wake too. So perfectly attuned to him, your arms drawing his face into your breasts, letting him calm himself by placing sucks and licks against your tender mounds.

He isn’t the most handsome man, features too austere to be considered beautiful, nose a little too big and brow just slightly too prominent. But to you he’s still godlike, each mark of violence traced upon his flesh is like poetry. The brooding darkness of him miraculous in your wide unblemished eyes.

König thanks every star that you came to him, that the universe finally relented and allowed him happiness nestled inside another person. He has found his own private heaven with you, the counterweight to his black soul and formerly withered heart.

You bought him back to life with a shuddering kiss, clawing and urgent, dragging him tooth and nail from the crashing ocean of loneliness he was drowning in before. He can never thank you enough, never lavish too much attention on you. The desperation he feels to cling to you, make you stay with him until life drains from his form, is all consuming.

Idly you rub a hand across his stomach, feeling the muscles tense and release under your fingers. König lets out a soft sigh, which is transformed into a groan when your palm slides downwards into the wiry hair at the base of his cock.

He stretches with a pop of fluid in his joints, your domesticated big cat curling his toes with the pleasure of your sweet attention. Azure eyes alight with adoration focus on your face as you stroke him tenderly. Little hums and puffs of air hit your cheek, as you swirl a thumb around his sensitive tip.

Right before he feels the pulsing need to spill himself into your fist, König stops your hand. His stomach is burning with the denial of an orgasm, but he wants to horde each piece of you like a magpie collecting treasures.

He rolls on top of you, then comes to rest between your legs, spreading them easily apart so he can devour your slick with his mouth. There isn’t anywhere else he would rather be, tongue deep inside you, pushing you as far as he can towards the precipice of pleasure that makes your body sing just for him.

“I wanted to make you cum first for a change!” You pout at him, glossy lips parting when he traces the outline of your sex with a finger.

But your old wolf isn’t worried. There is all the time in the world for you to tease him, take his hung cock between your plump lips and let him paint them with his spend. For now, he just needs you to understand what you do to him, just how much you mean to this man, wrenched back from the shipwreck of his life by the scruff of his neck and placed securely on the warm sand.

“Later little Hase.”

Your breathy moan as he dives head first into your depths, could be the only thing he ever heard again and König would die a happy man.

I loveeee him oh my days I do I really do! Sorry if this is shite I wrote it quickly because I needed to get it down in words. ❤️

@dustycrusty09 @cutiecusp @pxssygxblin @sigrid666 @misshugs

[joe-leviari]

Nov 2023

Creepy guy

[joe-leviari]

They're the same person, your honor.

[joe-leviari]

Hiii Hood! Always loved your art so much😭 please keep going! I recently took a flight nearly 16h. Literally killed my back. So I was wondering how König is to long flights? Is he able too fall asleep on these uncomfortable chairs (since he's literally 6'10 so...)

(Sorry for English is not my native language if something is miss correct ；；

He’ll have the worst sleep of his life lol, not enough leg room for the poor guy!!! Had to pay for premium seat or just suffer lmao (also thank you for your support!!! You’re so lovely)

[joe-leviari]

Price who watches as you ride him, whining and gripping his shoulders while he puffs on a cigar. Not offering any help because you were so rude and mean earlier (didn’t give him a kiss with the entire task force watching you.)

So you’re left to apologize to him by riding him slow and steady, even as your thighs begin to shake and your rhythm gets inconsistent.

Finally finishes his cigar and has you hold out his ash tray for him to put it out before he starts thrusting up into you, bringing a long awaited orgasm to both of you quickly.

And then he leaves a fat and almost wet kiss right on your lips, his hand smushing your cheeks together as you stare at him dazed and fucked out.

Smiles at you brightly, now that he’s gotten the kiss that he wanted, petting your back as he calls you his good lil lovie. :(

And who knows, maybe he’ll have you do some “trust exercises” with his boys to prevent this from happening again ;)

[joe-leviari]

*not proofread at all not even a little*

simon had finally, finally left you the fuck alone.

he’d been staying the night at your apartment for days on end, not that you minded. not really, at least.

you only started getting frustrated when you started getting… frustrated.

he’d left to go do some grocery shopping because you had “no fucking food in your house.” he needed to eat. sue him.

you played it casual, shrugging and throwing a sarcastic apology at him as he left. as soon as the door slammed shut, you were running to your bedroom and flinging open your nightstand drawer.

you grabbed your pink vibrator, a nice g-spot one.

this had to be quick. you’d never live it down if simon came home to see you in the midst of that. you got right to business, holding the power button until the familiar buzz overtook you.

you didn’t hear simon reentering. cheeky bastard only caused a ruckus when he was leaving.

“forgot it’s sunday love, shops are closed by now,” simon chuckled to himself. you didn’t respond, and you were nowhere to be seen. ah, your door was closed. you probably just wanted a nap.

simon approached, and his heart dropped when he heard cries of pain? he was immediately reaching for the door handle, but then the pain morphed into a sound he’d never heard you make. it was whinier than a cry of pain. it gave him pause.

“holy fuck! yes, yes, yes, yes!”

oh.

simon was totally not supposed to hear you climaxing.

he heard rustling behind the door and the squeak of your mattress as you got up. he’d memorized every creak the floor made and you were heading straight for him.

he took a few steps back as to hopefully look casual.

you opened your door with your eyes squeezed shut, arms reaching into the air as you stretched, shaking off the last bits of stress that washed away with your orgasm.

when you opened your eyes you were met with a rather stiff looking simon. why was he feeling so embarrassed? he’d gone to war for chrissakes and can’t handle just hearing the female orgasm?

luckily, you were completely oblivious.

“shops are closed. it’s sunday.” he repeated, more meekly this time.

“oh, okay. i’m sure there’s something in there. i’ll whip somethin’ up for you after i shower.”

you shoved past him and into the bathroom. the squeak of the shower head was mere background noise to all the thoughts racing through simon’s brain.

he stood paralyzed for at least two minutes.

the sliver of mussed sheets he could see through your cracked door was all too tempting.

he sat on your warm bed, and he swore he could smell you. he looked over at your nightstand. no. he shouldn’t. he can’t. that’d be wrong. so, so wrong.

andddd he’s reaching for the drawer.

he sees the toy, can see the slick on it from where you’d hastily shoved it back in just in case simon came home before you could clean it.

it was still warm. he looked at it, imagined the almost painful moans tearing from your throat. and he laughed. he laughed! the absolute gall of this man.

he’s sorry, it was just so small compared to him. he’d hate to imagine the struggle you’d go through taking him. he actually doesn’t hate it. he really loves it. loves it so much actually, all the blood in his entire giant body rushes right to his cock.

he leaves. immediately. he runs, literally runs, back to his apartment to rub one out. he returns to your apartment about an hour later with takeout in hand.

“didn’t want you to have to cook anything, love,” he lied. and you were none the wiser

[joe-leviari]

shy boy

[joe-leviari]

141 and their captain’s assistant

- it all started with a comment made by Laswell, she mentioned to John how tired he seems, how his eye bags are growing heavier each day passing

- she recommended him to get an assistant, John declined the offer and tried to get back to work, but laswell already made the call, she knew how annoying John can be when it comes to getting help

- then enters a pretty little thing, your hair in a messy bun, glasses neatly resting on your pretty face, short pencil skirt hugging your curves perfectly

- John couldn’t help himself from staring, gawking at you like some horny teenager

- the boys began seeing you scurrying around the base more often, the first to approach you was Johnny of course

- his deep voice partnered with his thick Scottish accent made you subconsciously bite your lip, staring up at him with your big doe eyes, you don’t even mean to, it’s just that more than half of the people in here were 6feet+

- Johnny’s flirtatious nature made you giggle, lightened up your day, but not your boss’

- every time the Scott decided to drop by your desk to accompany you, he’d get scolded by his captain

- “don’t need you distracting her from her job”

- “it’s her break, cap, plus, she’ a good lass, I’m sure she’s on top of…all her work” the scott would throw you a wink before his captain orders him to run laps around the base

- next came gaz, since he’s always visiting his captain’s office for reports, he saw you at the new desk in the captain’s office, the aura around you not matching anything in the dim, old and boring office, you gave him a slight smile before returning to your paperwork

- but gaz wasn’t going to let that be the end of your interactions no no

- he’d walk up to you in the mess hall, as you’re loading your plate up, striking a conversation with you, making last long enough for him to lead you to a table with his other teammates

- you shyly but politely sit down and introduce yourself to the masked man who sat opposite of you, his brown eyes staring into yours as his arms stayed locked, he just nodded and replied “ghost”

- you figured he’s not a social one, the Scot and the Brit both kept asking you questions, some may have been a bit intrusive but maybe they’re just being friendly !

- “so why ar’ ye here?”

“Kate laswell requested that I work for John price for a few months to ease the paperwork load on him”

- “I’m sure there’s a different kind of load he’s trying to get you to ease off of him”

- the three of your heads snap to the silent man, his brown eyes seemed to be crinkled, suggesting he was grinning or smirking underneath that mask

- “OI! LT’s got jokes, but he doesn’t mean anything by it” Johnny tried to reassure you, glaring at Simon as you looked down at your food

- you excused yourself as you made your way back to price’s office, you saw him still there, no signs of him moving at all “captain ? Did you eat today?” You asked sweetly

- oh what this man wouldn’t give to have the honours of eating you for every meal of the day, to have you sprawled on his desk, papers sticking to your sweaty skin, your chest rising and falling as you try to quiet yourself so nobody hears what your captain is doing to you

- “captain” fuck he’d love to hear you moan his rank, begging him to be gentle, but he knows deep down you’re a dirty girl and you want your “captain ?!”

- John snapped out of his daydream, he looked up at you, you were leaning to the side trying to check on him “have you eaten today?” You asked again, a worried look in your eyes

- John nods, not looking you in the eyes “yeah yeah” he cleared his throat as he tried to get back to work, but your soft, smaller hand stopped him from grabbing his pen, his brown eyes looked up, ab eyebrow raised as if to ask ‘what are you doing?’

- “I’m sorry, captain but I can’t allow you to get back to work if you haven’t had food” you stated, your body trembling as you stood your ground

- truthfully, price can easily launch you across the room with one arm, he knows his limits, and you’re nowhere near it, but you were right, he does need to eat, and although he wishes he could order you to spread your pretty thighs for him and let him have his fun, he doesn’t want to lose such a pretty sight so fast

- he let go of the pen, leaning back on his office chair “I haven’t brought any food”

“The mess hall still have some food there”

- “I don’t eat that rubbish”

“Well too bad, you need to eat”

- ooh… I guess his little kitty got claws now