#antique clamp

[joeflanagantrading]

[todorokies]

WHEN THE LIGHTS ARE LOW - logan howlett

contents 𝝑𝑒 : fem!reader, nsfw, cockwarming, some fluff & angst (?) got mixed up in this, implied legal age-gap, grumpy old man logan (written with ‘logan 2017’ in mind but he isn’t sick), intimacy scares logan but he tries, 1.1k words

a/n 𝝑𝑒 : this is possibly ooc this is my first time writing for him please go easy on me! ,,,, inspired by the song ‘when the lights are low’ by the paragons

“read to me, please?”

the air in the quite spacious room suddenly turned chilled as life around seemed to come to a halt. the eccentric buzzing of traffic seemingly stilled allowing cicadas and woodland birds to make their presence known.

fireflies tangoing into the darkened night jiving the streets alongside citizens peacefully making their way back to their residences.

it’s unlikely for a friday night to be uneventful for logan. a usual run through of the crazed day would be servicing important higher ups in his limousine, taking them to a glamorous black-tie event or a rowdy group of middle aged ladies celebrating a bride-to-be’s last night of freedom.

it was also unlikely for the said man to be in your bedroom after the hours of eight, conversing with you as the pads of his calloused fingertips ghosted over the satin silk that graced upon your body.

his tensed furrowed eyebrows relaxed for once, as he willingly leaves his on edge and guarded demeanour at your porch.

you don’t know how he was able to get the night off and frankly, you aren’t too eager to find out. rather using your energy to melt in his presence and eventually molding into one as his hazel half lidded eyes cautiously watches you straddle him then ease yourself on his semi hard cock.

his eyes immediately screwed shut followed by a throaty low groan once you bottom out, sitting completely still, your pelvises touching one another. your eyes softly flutter at the pleasurable ache as your hands found refuge around his neck and into the brushy hairs on his nape.

your question rings through his ears like a faint echo. with a quirked eyebrow, he lifts his head off the antique bed frame to face you, sharply examining your features.

“you can’t be serious?” he exasperatedly huffed out closing his eyes again and leaned back against the headboard.

you narrowed your eyes at him, “i’m dead serious. why else would you bring your glasses if you knew you had zero intentions of doing any reading?”

he doesn’t miss a beat, “i keep 'em on me at all times.” his voice is flat, not showcasing any emotion to give you more material.

you sigh, your lips pursed into a thin line while glancing at logan’s salt and pepper tufts of hair, allowing silence to fall amongst the two of you, not willing to continue the small squabble for a rather nonsensical request on your end.

that’s until you hear him scoff and mutter under his breath, “yeah, that’s what i thought.”

with a sharply slow roll of your hips you clamp down onto him, feeling his cockhead prods at your spongy spot. he loudly hisses through his teeth due to the sudden sensation, panting slightly as his fist balls up the sheets.

“you should be glad i haven’t hidden them yet, you old fuck,” you coyly beam.

logan’s brows knitted together as he shakily exhaled a deep breath to maintain —what’s left of— his composure, eyes stuck on your figure. great, you’re mocking him now, but he did have it coming he supposes.

his next movements are calculated, hesitant and uncertain as he reaches for your waist. yes, he has touched you before from head to toe, but there is always a sick gutted feeling of his that you’ll easily wither away in his arms leaving his dread to consume his soul once again.

his grip on your waist is loose, a mere nudge from a ghost, until you cuff your own hands over his to reassure his grip on you, his gaze softens.

“what do you want from me tonight?” his voice comes out as a honey dipped whisper, not what you were expecting as a rebuttal. it throws you off course, breath hitching before lightly nibbling on your bottom lip.

what exactly do you want from him tonight? when you received his sudden call five minutes before his arrival your nerves were over the moon. despite being in a relationship with logan for many months now, he always gave you an unorthodox reason to be nervous.

logan is intense. from how he carries himself to his appearance, his gaze all the way down to his speech patterns, the venom he spits out to his enemies or how he loves and cares for others so deeply; flesh, bones and all.

his love intimidates you —which is ironic in the sense that he could say the same exact thing about you— so truthfully, you don’t know what you want from him. only to be close enough to touch him, smell him, and to strip away his clothes to feel his skin onto yours.

but you choose not to say any of this, “shouldn’t i be asking you that?”

he dryly chuckles. the type of chuckle that reverberates against your own body from close proximity. you always loved when he laughed.

“i suppose you’re right, i am your guest after all.”

his larger hands begin to caress your waist, rubbing small circles with his thumb, “why do you want me to read to you?” genuine curiosity is laced in his tone. he stares up at you patiently awaiting for your answer and you now feel like a deer caught in headlights.

his undivided attention makes you shift against him causing the both of you to softly groan then you shrug, because you truly don’t know why yourself.

“i thought it would be a nice thing for us to do.” you nervously start to pick at the skin that surrounds your nails.

he simply hums in acknowledgment and soon captures your hands in his to stop you from fidgeting, “next time, bub, i just want to enjoy this at the moment.”

you break out into an earnest smile, your hands soon snaking its way out of his grasp to place them back on the base of his neck, his hands soon moves to your waist with much more confidence this time around.

“sooo, does this mean you’ll take another day off to visit me again?” your big doe eyes lit up at the possibility of spending another quiet friday night with logan by your side.

he feigns irritation, “who said i took the day off? i just didn’t have anything better to do.”

you playfully shove his shoulder before passionately locking lips with him. he’s tentative to your reactions as he bores his entire life force into you, a match has been light in the pit of his stomach as you both explored each other’s mouths.

he grunts. wanting more, craving more until you pull away, a small string of saliva follows before separating.

“well, next time when you have nothing better to do you’ll just have to read me pride and prejudice.”

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Teach Me a Lesson, Mr. Miller✨

Bfd/Brat Tamer! Joel Miller x fem! reader

A/N: This has been in the docs for a while, and it’s all just filth. Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me get that one sentence just right! This one is dedicated to all the bratty girls who love to be punished, especially @littlevenicebitch69 😈

Summary: Tonight, you planned for beer, loud music, and sloppy sex with one of your hot college classmates. Instead, you get your best friend’s dad putting you in your place.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 6.7k

Tags: Porn with plot, large age gap (reader is 23, Joel is 46), best friend’s dad! Joel, unprotected piv, brat tamer! Joel, fingering, oral (f/m receiving), no use y/n, pre outbreak! au, switching POVs, dirty talk, edging

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The lights flash like disco balls across the silhouette of the glass windows as Joel enters the front door of his house. His eyes blow wide, eyebrows furrowing when he sees the absolute mess in his large two-story house. 

   The wooden floors are caked in spilled beer, bottles litter the vicinity of his college infested living room. The loud music blares through the speakers, bodies cramming the now made dance floor with the leather couches pushed back out of place. Antique lamps get knocked over, footballs get thrown around by some jocks in the kitchen, chips get crunched and crumpled by careless feet over by the rustic coffee table. 

   He can’t see an end to the madness of this unwelcome house party that was obviously thrown without his knowledge, and he’s fucking pissed.

   He scoffs as a tall blonde football player rams into his shoulder, not even muttering an apology, only yelling “Watch out, old man” as be barrels through with an open beer bottle clutched in his firm hand. That makes Joel burn with hot rage, his jaw ticking as he goes searching for Sarah in a sea of college party goers. 

   He was supposed to be away on a contracting gig all weekend, but he unexpectedly got to come home early after the clients changed the dates yet again. He was going to surprise Sarah by taking her out to dinner, but not anymore. Not after he walked into his house that’s now completely trashed by fucked up college kids. 

   He clamps down on his seething tongue and tastes blood run down the back of his throat, pushing himself through a couple making out by the kitchen entrance, cursing under his breath when almost no one even realizes he’s right there in the midst of it all. A rowdy boy shotguns a beer in the hall, all his friends hollering for him to chug. Joel grabs the aluminum can out of his hand and throws it on the ground, crushing it under his leather work boots while he scowls at the piece of shit.

   “Get out of my fuckin’ way,” he growls, pushing the college kid out of the way and into the wall, stomping down the hall back into the living room when he doesn’t see Sarah anywhere around him. 

   He barrels past a sleazy couple making out by the stairwell, hearing them yell back while he huffs and pushes past them. Fucking college kids.

   Turning and looking up the stairs is where he finds you standing there, nursing an alcoholic beverage from a red solo cup. He clenches his jaw, narrows his eyes as he stares at you, Sarah’s best friend, not even comprehending he’s right there basically at your heels. 

   He growls under his breath, hands balled in tight fists as the loud music booms through his eardrums, cursing when he sees another red solo cup fall to the floor, spilling liquid all over his newly polished floors. 

   Goddamn it.

   He assesses you carefully, flicking his eyes over your too tight little black dress, barely covering the globes of your ass. Your low cut neckline basically reveals it all, cleavage spilling from where your perky breasts tease the boys. He takes in your tanned, toned legs, your slutty outfit making all the guys drool over you. And he knows that’s what you fucking want because you love attention.

   If attention is what you’re seeking, then he’s about to smother it.

   He scoffs under his breath; a jealous anger rises deep in his chest. He equally loves and hates how attractive he finds you. Your long legs could make any grown man weak in the knees, and your pouty red lips are so plump that they drive him absolutely wild. He so badly wants to suck that pretty little bottom lip between his teeth so he can finally hear what your pleasurable cries sound like while they ring melodically through his ears.

   He should be mad, furious that you were a part of putting this party together. He knows you were; Sarah wouldn’t do this by herself. Not his little girl. No. She obviously had some convincing from you. He always knew you were a little troublemaker. 

   And you know what happens to little troublemakers? They get taught a lesson. And that’s exactly what he plans to do.

   “Isn’t this party great? You and Sarah really pulled it off. Didn’t think you could. Bravo,” Kylie congratulates you, tipping her half empty beer bottle to your red solo cup, spilling a little of the mixed alcohol over the side of your cup.

   “Yeah, well this wouldn’t have even happened if we thought her dad would show up. Kinda was hesitant to even help throw it, but guess it worked out,” you sigh with relief, a smile painting over your tinted red lips.

   You relax against the wall, taking a deep breath while the drifting music fills your ears, lulling in the alcohol that calms your racing mind. “Good thing he’s not here, right? That’d be a shit show,” you laugh. 

   After a couple of minutes, Kylie hits your arm and almost screams into your ear. “Wait. Oh no. Isn’t that… is that Sarah’s dad?”

   You stand up straight, pushing yourself off the wall frantically. As you look down the narrow staircase and gaze through the parted crowd, that’s when you see him staring up at you with a clenched jaw and fire lighted in narrowed eyes. 

   Oh shit.

   You swallow a generous gulp of the bitter alcohol, biting the tip of your tongue hard as Kylie disappears and leaves you alone with the hungry panther that’ll surely show his claws to you any moment now. He stalks towards you, climbing the stairs and pushing past party goers, his big lips twitching and glowing eyes glaring your way. 

   Fuck. He’s so angry. You’re in big trouble. 

   He points a thick finger accusingly at you, mouthing your name angrily through his gritted teeth. When he reaches you your eyes blow wide, mouth dropping open, standing speechless in your black high heels. Your red solo cup slips out of your hand, and you gulp when the cup lands on Joel’s tan work boots, spilling alcohol all over the worn leather. Shit. 

   He rakes a hand roughly down his salt-and-pepper trimmed beard, muttering curse words under his breath. “Jesus Christ,” he huffs. 

   “Sorry…” you stutter, almost falling backwards before he places a strong hand around your wrist, holding your gaze with his narrowed eyes.

   “So, you and Sarah decided it was alright to throw a fuckin’ party over the weekend I was supposed to be out of town, huh? Thought it was fine to trash my goddamn house?!” His voice is sharp, stern, filled with a deep gravelly tone that almost scares the daylights out of you. You’ve never seen Joel mad before, not like this. You’re in so much trouble.

   “No… I mean, we didn’t mean to…” you mutter quietly.

   “Didn’t mean to my ass. This was planned. Parties don’t jus’ happen. But let me ask you one thing, where is my daughter?” His amber eyes dig into you, a deep scowl forming over his lips while you try to hold your shaky breath. 

   You wouldn’t rat Sarah out, not to her dad. She was busy hooking up with Ryan by the pool, and you did not want her dad knowing that. He would probably take his meaty hands and physically kill the poor guy.

   “I don’t know. Haven’t seen her in a while,” you shrug, pretending like you don’t know a thing.

   He slides his tongue along his bottom teeth, his cold eyes slitting into narrow slots. Oh god, you’re done for. “Upstairs, now!” he yells. He grabs your wrist and drags you upstairs, down the narrow hall, past the occupied bathroom and down to the last room on the right. 

   His bedroom. 

   He throws you inside the room and flips on the lights, slamming the door shut with a bang and clicking the lock into place. No place to escape now. Your wide eyes scan the room, glancing past the corner with his acoustic guitar, taking in the navy blue walls, the collection of stacked albums in the little glass case, eyes flicking over the king-sized bed with clean white sheets and a dark blue blanket thrown neatly on top. 

   You don’t have time to really take in your surroundings because he’s suddenly screaming at you through clenched teeth. “Where is Sarah?” he growls, pacing in front of you with blown out angry eyes, tanned arms crossed over his broad chest.

   You push all your fears aside and decide to turn on the charm, hoping you can flirt your way out of this one. “I dunno, Joel. Where do you think she is?” you giggle, twirling a lock of hair between your fingers, giving him your best innocent look as you bat your eyelashes up at him, trying your hardest to not turn your best friend in. 

   Something snaps hard in him then. He crowds your space, pinning you against the navy colored wall, his meaty hands grazing against your hips roughly. “It’s Mr. Miller to you. Now look, I ain’t repeatin’ myself again. Now where is she?” He snarls, showing his incisors as his nostrils flare, making his chocolate eyes grow into big black holes. Oh god, he’s furious. 

   “Like I said, I don’t know.” You smile, shrugging your shoulders like you don’t have a clue in the world. He obviously knows you’re lying, and he won’t stand for that.

   “I’m not fuckin’ playin’ around, little girl. Tell me where my daughter is or so help me.” He clenches his jaw, a repressed growl held in the back of his throat. 

   “Little girl, huh? You think a twenty-three-year-old is a little girl?” You scoff, pursing your lips annoyed. 

   “Shut up, will ya? Christ. Jus’ tell me where the fuck my daughter is,” he growls, pinning his broad chest against yours.

   You smirk his way, challenging him with an ounce of liquid courage in your system. “Make me.”

   He digs into the sides of your hips with his thick fingers, making you gasp at the nervous butterflies that flit through your stomach. He gnashes his teeth together, dark eyes blowing wide as he ghosts dangerously close to your lips. “Better be careful there, sweetheart. You’re walkin’ on mighty thin ice,” he warns with the flash of black eyes. 

   “Am I?” you challenge, giggling with a gleam in your eye. He curses under his breath, ready to give you just what you deserve. “I see the way you look at me when Sarah’s not around. The way your eyes peel over me, especially when I was wearing my little pink bikini by the pool. Couldn’t stop staring, could you?” you smirk.

   He clenches his teeth together, groaning curse words as he scowls your way, fighting every ounce of control he has left in him, but he has none. “You’re a fuckin’ brat, you know that?” he spits your way, eyes lit like smoldering flames. 

   “Only a brat for you,” you wink.

   “Jesus Christ,” he huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thick fingers until he’s looking back up at you with danger written all over his handsome face. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

   “Mhm,” you nod, grabbing onto the front of his green flannel, your fingers curling ever so slowly over the soft material. “So, what are you gonna do about it, Mr. Miller?” you ask all flirtatiously, pulling him up against your chest while his big hands hover over the soft fabric of your tight dress.

   He carves his hand over the middle of your cleavage, running a calloused finger dangerously close to your breasts, anger still coursing through those dark eyes of his. “How much have you had to drink tonight? You’re actin’ rather bold, little girl.” His index finger grazes the underside of your breasts, and you hold in a surprised gasp.

   “I’ve had a couple sips, but I’m not drunk,” you promise, watching his eyes flick back and forth from your vision to your spilling breasts that scream to be freed from the suffocating dress.

   He assesses your face, scanning your flustered features while he ticks his jaw, analyzing if you’re really drunk or not. Once he’s satisfied with your answer, he lets out a gruff sound from the back of his throat. “Okay then. You’re not drunk, but you’re jus’ choosin’ not to tell me where Sarah is, and you’re givin’ me a damn headache with the way you’re actin’ like a little brat,” he snarls with gritted teeth. “What’s it gonna take to get you to answer me, brat?” 

   The nickname brat makes a wave of slick form in the gusset of your pretty lace and your insides quiver with need. You know exactly what you have to do now. 

   You take your nails and run them slowly through his greying scruff, watching him clench his jaw and growl through his teeth. He grabs your wrist and peels it off his face, pinning it high above your head while he takes a step forward and leans all his weight into you.

   “Don’t think for one fuckin’ moment you have control, sweetheart. I’m in control here. Now, are you gonna tell me where my daughter is or am I gonna have to fuck it out of you?” His eyes blow wide, black pupils taking over your vision as his hardening cock digs into the middle of your thigh. Oh fuck. He’s big.

   You smirk up at him and raise your eyebrows. “Think I can tell you where she is. After you fuck me first, Mr. Miller.”

   He snarls your way and grabs your wrists, pulling you from the wall and throwing you in the direction of his king-sized bed. Before you can even make a move, he's right behind you, spreading your legs and pushing your chest against the soft mattress, slowly hiking your dress above your hips.

   “If you’re gonna act like a brat then I’m gonna fuck you like a brat, fuckin’ tease,” he growls.

   You feel the cool air against your center before you can even comprehend what’s happening. He rips your lace panties in half, shredding the material and spreading you wider while he spits on his large hand and starts dividing your folds, calloused fingers gliding through the slick of your wet pussy. He pushes on your buzzing clit, already overstimulated by his meaty fingers pressing against you, and you can’t help but pull a low groan from your glossy lips.

   “You like that, huh? Dirty little thing, jus’ wait till I get my mouth on you,” he smirks devilish. 

   “Oh, god,” you groan loudly as he curls one thick finger inside your dripping hole, quickly slipping another in to make a delicious burning sensation light your core on fire.

   The room starts spinning as he languidly fucks his fingers in and out, making sharp, deep movements as they scissor inside you over and over again. It’s like he’s kissing the back of your cervix, reaching impossibly deep inside your soul, and his deft fingers are so fucking experienced that you think you see god himself when he curls at just the right spot and presses into the spongy spot that has you seeing twinkling stars before your wide eyes.

   The heel of his palm presses firmly against your clit, and you can’t help the obscene noises that squeak out of you, just like the wet, squelching noises your pussy is making every single time he fucks into you nice and deep. The way he’s finger fucking you is unforgiving and relentless, and you can tell he’s thouroughly pissed that you kept taunting him. He’s trying to teach you a lesson, but it feels so fucking good that maybe you should tease him more often. Maybe he’ll keep being rough with you because you like this more than you should. 

   You buck your hips up, pressing your clit against his rough palm as you reach for that friction you so desperately crave. You’re right on the verge of coming, and you need to feed that burning sensation that almost snaps like a twig inside your core.

   “Greedy fuckin’ brat, ain’t ya? Who said you could come already, huh?” he growls with bared teeth. He releases his drenched fingers from your core, and you feel complete loss when those damn thick fingers stop you from getting your sweet release.

   You whine as he throws you on the silky sheets flat on your back, his large body climbing over yours while he pins his muscular legs against your thighs, spreading you wide to be on full display for him. You gasp and try to break free of his strong hold, but he’s much larger than you are, and his body is as taut as a brick wall. No way you can knock him off.

   You lick your bottom lip in frustration and pout because your clit burns, and you need to get relief before you combust into uncontrollable flames. “Please, Mr. Miller,” you beg, tears pooling in the backs of your glossy eyes.

   “You gonna tell me where Sarah is?” he asks, his large stature toppling over your body as his smoldering eyes incinerate the flames a thousand degrees hotter. 

   “Maybe after you make me come.” You puff your bottom lip out and smile through the burn of your core. He’s not going to budge, so you might as well push him to the edge. 

   “You think a little brat like you deserves to come?” he snarls, his eyes blowing wide as they trail like fire down your writhing body.

   He spots your wet center and smirks, ghosting his fingers right over your bundle of nerves, exactly where you need him most. Your voice box dies as you watch his thick fingers skate across your middle region, and you grow mute as a blinding pleasure of need crashes through your bloodstream.

   “I asked you a question, little brat. I expect an answer,” he growls with clenched teeth.

   “Please,” is all you seem to be able to whisper out as the heel of his palm brushes against your over sensitive clit. “I… I need it,” you whine, feeling the bottomless pit your stomach seems to plummet into.

   “You need it?” he chuckles darkly, dipping his head down between your legs slowly. “This pretty pink pussy wants to come?” he smirks as his lips brush dangerously close to your throbbing mound.

   “Mhm,” you whine, panting excessively when his hot breath fans over your clit, sending your carnal need spiraling while his large hands push your thighs further into the slick white sheets. 

   He lets a string of saliva pool inside his mouth, and then he slowly lets it drip down like a waterfall onto your already drenched pussy. “Can never be too wet, little brat,” he grins wickedly. “But look at you, already soppin’ for me,” he chuckles darkly.

   The tip of his thumb slides against your slit, covering drool and slick up to your puffy mound as he meticulously circles over that sweet spot that makes you pant his name uncontrollably. You buck your hips up, begging for more, but he just settles nicely between your legs and lets his eyes lust over with black pits that threaten to eat you alive.

   “Mr. Miller,” you beg like a desperate bitch in heat. You need him, want him, and it’s so fucked up that you want your best friend’s dad. But he’s just so enticing that you can’t resist, like a prized possession you just can’t lose.

   “Now, let me taste jus’ how wet you are, little brat. Maybe you’ll stop runnin’ that smart alec mouth of yours for a minute,” he smirks cruelly. 

   You take a breath, about to spout off a flirty response to mock him, but then his mouth fuses to your pussy, and there’s suddenly no air left in your lungs. He languidly licks a long stripe up your glistening folds, making a shocked gasp escape your mouth while he peels his carnal eyes up at you and fucking smirks while his tongue slowly envelops your buzzing mound.

   Fuck. He’s even better with his tongue than you imagined. 

   “Ohhh,” you moan breathily, mouth agape with drool nearly sliding down your chin. His tongue makes your pussy clench up over nothing, but then he slips two experienced fingers inside your dripping hole and curls up up up until he hits that spot that makes you lose your fucking mind. 

   Another flick of his long tongue and you’re nearly choking on dry air. You try to speak, but his skillful fingers and lapping tongue make you forget every single thought that’s ever plagued your mind.

   “Look at you, all choked up like you don’t know any words. What’s the matter, little brat? Cat got your tongue?” His menacing words cut through the thick air, and his piercing black eyes flash with mischief when his tongue slides along your puffy clit.

   “Y—yes,” you choke, words getting jumbled on the tip of your tongue the minute he plunges his thick fingers deeper inside you. “Oh my god,” you moan, feeling his thick beard brush against your inner thigh, his tongue dancing impossibly fast around your bundle of nerves. “More,” you beg, “please.”

   Joel’s tongue snaps back in his mouth, and one of his large hands tugs you closer, possessively pressing into your thigh like he fucking owns you. “Beggin’ for me now, s’that right?”

   All you can do is nod in response. “Mhm.”

   He chuckles and shakes his head, still skillfully curling his magical fingers up inside you, almost making your vision turn to black. “You gonna behave if I make you come, pretty little slut?” he asks with a snide smirk, fanning his hot breath along your sticky center, right where he’s ruined you most. 

   “Mhm. I’ll be good, promise,” you squeak out, bucking your hips to try to get his warm mouth back on you, but he only digs deeper into your thigh, right to the point of both pleasure and pain mixed together. 

   “Attagirl,” he smiles wickedly, his dark eyes turning back into big black pits.

   In the next second his mouth is back on you, biting and sucking and teasing his tongue along your wet folds, his curved nose inhaling deeply in your curls above your mound, and then his mouth takes your needy clit and sucks. Hard. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, reveling in the feel of his smooth tongue, moaning with every curl of his thick digits that he gives you, relishing the sick, pleasurable feeling of knowing that you finally teased him enough that he gave in. And it’s honestly better than any fake fantasy that you conjured up in your twisted brain. This right here is something you’d be on your knees for every second you could get Joel fucking Miller alone with you.

   Another lick to your center and your fingers fall and twist around his dark greying tousled locks. That elicits a groan deep from within his throat, and he has you panting even heavier the more he ravishes your sticky center. 

   The coil sharply snaps in your belly, and you feel molten lava run down your spine, slipping down your center, your walls clenching tightly around his calloused fingers. “Fuck,” he groans, his tongue lapping up the spilling slick that runs down your thighs messily. 

   Even coming down from your orgasm, the man still sets your core on fire. “You taste so fuckin’ good, little brat. Like fuckin’ cake on my lips,” he hums, licking off your glistening slick that sticks to his plush lips.

   Once you’re coherent enough to form a full sentence, you breathe out raggedly. “Need you, Joel,” you whine, reaching for his flannel collar until he pushes your hand away.

   “Mr. Miller,” he snaps. “So fuckin’ needy,” he mocks, his tongue darting across his bottom lip while he takes his time pulling the top of your dress down. “You want this cock?” he asks smirking, his big hands toying with your now revealed breasts, pinching the pebbled nipples between his fingers, humming happily when a moan slips off your tongue. 

   “Yes, please,” you beg, hoping he’ll give in to your sweet voice that nearly sings each time his warm body brushes against yours. You’re desperate because now you really want him. You want to know what it’s like to be fucked by Joel Miller in the flesh.

   “You gonna tell me where Sarah is?” He leans in and brushes his soft lips against the shell of your ear, gently biting until pain turns into raw pleasure.

   “Yes,” you say shakily. “After you fuck me.”

   His chocolate brown eyes turn carnal, black pits taking over once again as a deep smirk flicks across that warm mouth of his. “If you wanna be fucked like a slut then so fuckin’ be it,” he growls viciously. “Needy fuckin’ girl.”

   He yanks the leather belt from the loops of his denim jeans, throwing it quickly over the side of the bed as it falls with a clatter onto the floor. He wastes no time and unzips his metal zipper, ripping his jeans down his legs, his black boxer briefs following quickly after. Your eyes widen when you see just how massive he is, his thick cock hard and pressing firmly against his soft tummy, precum spilling messily over his red, swollen tip that’s begging to be stuffed inside you.

   Your jaw drops, and searing pleasure tears through your core the way his cock twitches when he looks down at just how soaked you are again. You’re like a fucking water fountain with no end of flow in sight. You’ve got it so bad for him, but now all you want is to be fucked by this beast of a man.

   “Jesus Christ. Already wet for me again? Little slut wants to be stuffed full of my cock, s’that right? Well, congratulations because I’m about to fuck you until you can’t think about anything else but me splitting you in two,” he growls cunningly.

   His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, and then he’s driving his cock straight through your damp folds. The breath gets knocked from your body the moment he plunges inside you, his large width literally splitting you in two until all you can feel is him penetrating your tight walls. 

   “Fuck,” you moan as his arms come down around your shoulders, caging you in as he drives in harder, bottoming out each time his hips snap up against yours, making you feel so satiated but also starving for more. You love his cock, and you don’t think you’ll ever have anyone else that can measure up to the god of a man he truly is.

   “Yeah, takin’ my cock like such a good girl,” he purrs, slapping his hips over and over as your mind starts to become numb from the thrusts of his massive cock. 

   “M–Mr. M… Miller,” you garble out, eyes rolling into the backs of your lids, reveling in the pleasure of the way he slides in and out of you, hitting that spongy spot that makes your fingers curl into the now dampened sheets. 

   “‘S’right, sweetheart. Say my name. Look at you all cock drunk. Givin’ you jus’ what you deserve, like the little slut you are,” he chuckles darkly as his tongue darts out and licks ravenously at the nape of your neck. “Lettin’ your best friend’s daddy fuck this tight pussy? You’re such a fuckin’ slut,” he chuckles.

   You don’t know why, but the nickname slut makes your insides tremble and has more slick running down his cock with each brush he gives your center. You’re such a bad friend, but you don’t care. You’ve wanted him for so long, and now you have him. You don’t intend to stop now.

   He bends your knees toward you, folding them until you’re in the shape of a pancake, his cock spearing into you at just the right angle that makes your moans louder and desperate as he drives you to your quickening second orgasm of the night. 

   The head of his cock kisses your cervix, drawing shallow breaths from your lungs until the room is enveloped in amber flames. You’re burning for him, and he fucking knows it, too. “Come on, pretty girl. You know you wanna come on my cock,” he taunts, eyes lit with pure mischief that threatens to swallow your cries whole.

   “Yes, fuck. I’m right there… I’m right–” Your voice is cut off by the deep growl that comes from his throat the moment your walls clench tightly around his cock, and you feel those walls inside you starting to crumble like every single thing around you does. 

   “That’s it, little brat. Take it. Spill for me,” he commands with a deep, intoxicating tone that has you coming just seconds after he speaks. You arch your back and moan his name, your ragged breaths scratchy and dry as you come hard on his cock.

   “Oh, yeah. Fuckin’ messy girl, goddamn,” he growls as he fucks you relentlessly through the high. 

   Just when you think he might come too, he pulls out and leaves you crying from the emptiness that makes you hollow from the inside out. You lay there panting, your center ruined from your dripping cum. He doesn’t even give you a chance to breathe; he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you off the bed, pushing you down until you’re settled between his thighs.

   When you look up from under your long lashes, you see his hard cock shiny with your slick, and his eyes are lustful black pits. “Why don’t you be a good girl and open that pretty mouth, sweetheart. Wanna fuck it. Knock some sense into ya,” he growls.

   Your eyes widen and you try to turn, but he grabs the crown of your head and forces your mouth open with the tip of his thumb. “Open. Your. Fucking. Mouth.” It’s not a question but a demand. And god, you willingly do as he says without a fuss.

   Your hands wrap around the base of him obediently, and then your tongue laps at the underside of his cock, tracing the bulging veins that spread like vines down his shaft. Licking across the swollen tip of him, your tongue whisps against his slit, feeling the hot, salty precum envelop your throat as you hum around him. 

   “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, your tongue is so… fuck,” he moans once your lips are fully wrapped around him, taking him deep inside your throat until he’s bottoming out, making you gag. 

   You pull your lips from his cock, catching your breath as a bead of drool connects from your bottom lip to the tip of him, like a spider web spinning its web slowly and maliciously. He looks down at you with a glint in his mischievous eyes, and it’s so smoldering that it catches you on fire. 

   The pad of his thumb traces gently on your bottom lip, and for a moment you see a glimmer of softness in those dark irises. It’s quickly masked the second he grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs hard, pulling you to the edge of his messy cock. “You wanted to be fucked so badly, so let me teach you another lesson, little brat. Wanna shut you up with something else other than my hand.”

   He tugs you forward, and his cock plunges deep into your throat, languidly sliding it in and out, harder and faster with each stroke of his cock. Your eyes water as tears stream down your face, mascara trailing down your lash line with every thrust of his cock. Your cheeks hollow out, but nothing could’ve prepared you for how he humiliates you and ruins you by fucking your mouth repeatedly.

   The chilly air hits the back of your bare ass, and the room fills with obscene gagging and choking noises the more your mouth drowns in him. Drool coats your chin and runs down his thick length, but he doesn’t stop, he just keeps plunging deep into the back of your throat like it’s life or death. 

   “Finally learned how to shut you up,” he teases, ragged breaths growling from his throat the closer he gets to his climax. 

   You can’t talk, only the washed out sounds of drowning on his all-consuming length fill the void. He practically rips your hair out of the base of your skull, tugging forcefully, snapping his hips aggressively until you feel his tip swell and almost combust. A guttural groan leaves his mouth, and with one more snap of his hips he’s finished.

   “Swallow,” he commands. And then he’s spilling his hot seed down your throat. The salty taste makes you moan around him, and a unique taste that can only trademark as his own serenades you, claiming you as his own prized possession.

   He ruts once more inside you and then slowly slides out, collapsing on his back while you fall to the floor with a thud, gasping for breath as you choke on thick air. Your nails dig into the soft carpet, piercing through the thick material as you get a hold of yourself. Carefully tugging your dress up and down over your ass, you push yourself up after a few minutes of trying to decipher all that just went down.

   Joel lays with a large hand shielding his eyes, groaning to himself and mumbling nonsense under his breath. He’s probably regretting this entire night now, but you know you’re not. And you’d do it again in a heartbeat. 

   After a moment of standing there staring, Joel lifts himself up and leans his elbows against his knees, his eyes flicking over your panting form carefully. His stare isn’t kind but condescending, until it melts into something a little softer that you just can’t place your finger on.

   Is he… growing soft on you?

   His eyes flick to yours, his jaw slack and irises golden brown, no more lusting black pits. Something snaps in you, tugging at the pit of your gut that feels a lot like longing, yearning. And you shouldn’t feel this way about your best friend’s forty-six-year-old father, but you do. And nothing could convince you to stay away from him anymore. One taste and you were hooked. 

   You rock on the back of your heels, almost speechless by the aching feeling in your gut that screams from the loss of his hands on your body, his cock twitching inside you, and for a moment you feel sadness that completely shatters your fragile heart. Finding an ounce of courage buried deep in your throat, you fight to find your now meek voice again. “Are we going to make this a habit, Mr. Miller?”

   “Don’t count on it,” he mutters under his breath. “‘S’not a good idea,” he sighs.

   A wave of disappointment comes out of nowhere and just about knocks you on your ass, but you stand tall, your chin high in the air. “Fine. I learned my lesson, Mr. Miller. Guess I’ll go find another man to teach me another,” you mewl, letting the cold chill in your spine settle your agitation long enough to turn away from his clenched jaw and deep eyes that try to glue you to the dark carpet of his room.

   You give him a mocking smile and flip your hair across your shoulder while you sway your hips toward the closed door. Fine, if he doesn’t want you then you’ll just have to find someone else who can fill you as good as Joel did.

   A deep groan falls from his lips, and then you hear him pushing himself off the bed like his life depends on catching you. Joel snatches your waist and spins you around, pinning your back to the wall, just like the position you were in when you first got dragged to this room tonight.

   “I don’t fuckin’ think so,” he spits out, onyx eyes flaring with a hint of jealousy and possession, and then his lips fuse to yours, consuming every fiber of your body as his own.

   His plush mouth molds to yours like clay, his warm breath fanning across your swollen lips, and you swear you’ve never craved a man like this, not when his mouth is feasting on you. Parting your lips pliantly, you allow him access inside, his tongue slotting between your teeth and then dancing against your tongue. He tastes like whiskey and smells like sandpaper. He’s intoxicating.  

   Heat bursts through the room as his tongue invades your mouth, making you dizzy and incredibly needy the moment his hands cup the sides of your face, your fingers scraping gently against the back of his neck. He groans in response, deeping the kiss as he swallows you whole. You don’t hear the blaring music down the hall, you only hear his breath mixing with your own, your moans colliding in sync as a symphony fills the room. 

   The kiss ends moments later, and you’re standing there panting raggedly, trying to cool off from that heated moment. Joel steps back and rakes a hand heavily down his greying beard, his eyes in a far off place as he thinks and thinks about the actions he made in this musky, dark bedroom of his. Licking his bottom lip slowly, his chocolate eyes finally flick up to meet yours again. “Think you should go on now, sweetheart. We had our fun.” His eyes are heavy, his lids closing momentarily as another long sigh fills the void.

   “Can I… can I see you again?” you ask nervously, your heels digging deep into the carpet while you wait with bated breath.

   “‘S’not a good idea,” he warns, his nostrils flaring just the tiniest bit until he relaxes his tight shoulders. 

   “I don’t care,” you whisper.

   He looks at you a beat, his gaze trailing over your body, slowly nodding to the door, your cue to leave. You give him a small smile and make your way out, only stopping in the doorway when the door is inched open and loud music fills the room. You turn and give him some words for him to mewl over. “Ummm… thank you, Mr. Miller. For making me feel alive,” you blush. 

   “Jus’ Joel, sweetheart. Jus’ Joel.”

   “Right…” you smile, knowing you won him over. “Oh, and Sarah’s out back by the pool. See you around, I guess. Joel…” Without giving him a chance to say anything else, you turn down the hall, your chin held high knowing you just charmed Joel fucking Miller.

   He’s everything you ever wanted and everything you couldn’t have. But this wouldn’t be the only time you saw Joel Miller. No, you’d see him again.

   Joel topples onto the bed, letting the scent of your vanilla perfume permeate his ruined sheets. He fucking smells you everywhere, and now he can’t get the sight of your pretty, glistening eyes out of his smothered head. He groans, letting the heel of his palms dig deep into the sockets of his eyes. Maybe if he couldn’t see your shredded panties on the floor he wouldn’t be so wound up about you, but he still is, even with his eyes locked shut

   This is so fucked. You’re his daughter’s best friend, and he’s way too fucking old to be playing games with a twenty-three-year-old. But yet he wants to play, wants to teether you to his body until you can’t move, can’t escape from his strong hold on you. He’s got it so bad that he can’t even think straight. All he sees is you. And he doesn’t think he can stay away for long, so he won't. No. He’ll have you again and when he does, he won’t let you leave so quickly.

   He clenches the sheets in his fists and sighs, letting his eyes close as his body relaxes, tuning out the booming music that floats through his door. He lets your sweet scent carry him off into a light sleep, and the last thing he hears is your beautiful voice float through his ears as you call him Mr. Miller before sleep takes him down.

   And when he dreams, all he sees is how fucking wrecked you looked in between his ruined sheets.

   He’s not done with you. No. Not even close.

[lexirosewrites]

In honor of nurse appreciation week…

Instead of ‘Eddie gets a toy stuck in him and Steve helps him get it out,’ what about alpha Eddie picks out the wrong size of ‘pocket omega,’ so his knot gets stuck and he goes to the ER?

Omega nurse Steve is both horrified and impressed.

He wants to just get out the sterile scissors and start working at cutting away the rubbery toy piece by piece, but he can’t help the lecture that starts to slip out too.

Who can blame him? He is a nurse after all.

“You have to be more careful next time. You can really constrict the blood flow with these things if you’re not careful!”

Eddie’s face somehow gets even more flushed and he mumbles something, not making eye contact when he does.

“Sorry?” Steve asks, ready to admonish him for whatever excuse he has for buying the wrong size. “What was that?”

Some alphas just think ‘smaller is better’ and Steve knows that’s bullshit.

To believe otherwise is just antiquated and juvenile alpha-brained thinking.

Eddie clears his throat, finally looking at Steve directly when he explains sheepishly, “I got the biggest size I could find. It’s just… my knot is kinda huge.”

Steve whimpers a little at that, clamping his legs together tightly at the thought of such a large knot filling him.

“O-oh.”

He’s glad he wasn’t holding the scissors.

“Yeah, it’s kind of an awful problem to have,” the alpha admits as Steve tries to get a hold of himself and do his job like a professional.

His mouth might be watering now.

“No! I mean- uh, I’m sure there are plenty of omegas who would be willing to- that- that is to say- um…”

He can’t think of anything but big knots and being filled with them.

Eddie chuckles, scratching at the back of his neck.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better about it, sweetheart. This isn’t the first time I’ve been here for the same stupid problem. This company just advertised carrying a size big enough to accommodate any knot and I believed them.”

Steve is going to cum in his fucking scrub pants like some slutty omega who can’t control themselves.

If Eddie’s telling the truth (and Steve’s inclined to believe him, especially since the proof is almost in front of him), then Steve’s never going to stop thinking about it.

He makes the last few cuts, finally able to pull the mangled toy off his patient’s swollen cock and behold the goddamn ‘Mona Lisa’ of alpha knots resting in his unworthy hands.

Jesus Christ.

It’s one thing for Eddie to say he’s been blessed in this particular area and it’s another for Steve to see it with his own eyes.

(and hold it)

“Oh good, it deflated a bit,” Eddie states with relief.

Huh.

“It… went down? This isn’t your full knot?” Steve wheezes out.

The alpha’s timid smile turns into something closer to a smirk, almost like he’s proud now.

“I mean, you can find out if you keep stroking it like that.”

Steve looks down, horrified to find that he was indeed running his hands along Eddie’s cock like some sort of trophy in need of polishing.

“I am so sorry! I don’t know what’s come over me. This is beyond inappropriate. I’m sure you’re ready to go home and forget all of this!”

Eddie clicks his tongue thoughtfully, keeping Steve practically on the edge of his seat in anticipation.

“While I could do without the ER bill, I think I can justify the visit if I leave with an actual omega. Maybe even one who’s a bit of a size queen?” he suggests coyly.

Steve gapes at the sheer boldness.

“How- uh, why would you assume that?” he flusters, the room feeling much smaller suddenly.

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

Steve raises one back.

The alpha doesn’t break eye contact, reaching down to wrap his hand around Steve’s, giving it a light squeeze.

“Might have something to do with the fact that you still haven’t let go of my knot, baby,” Eddie purrs, leaning in closer so his warm breath tickles Steve’s face. “Or maybe it’s that fucking puddle underneath you that’s getting worse by the minute. You’re dripping for my knot.”

He is.

Steve can hardly breathe, every inhale giving him a mouthful of heady alpha hormones.

Despite the scent neutralizers pumped out into the hospital air and the patch stuck on Steve’s own scent gland, he’s fucking enraptured by the smell.

His hand twitches, tightening.

Steve can’t help but blurt out, “My pussy can take it. I fuck myself open on the biggest fake alpha cocks I can find every night, but they’re never enough. They’ve- they’ve never been—”

He swallows, trying not to choke on his own drool building up in his mouth from ust.

Eddie presses his lips right up against Steve’s ear, letting them brush his skin when he whispers, “Yeah, sweetheart? They’ve never been… what?”

The alpha’s other hand drifts between Steve’s legs, pushing down the front of his pants and finding his arousal evident there.

Steve whines pathetically at the feeling of Eddie’s searching fingers running through the slick on his flushed skin.

“They’ve never been as big as you are, alpha,” he confesses, breaking every last ounce of willpower and giving in to his needs completely.

“What do you want, omega?” Eddie asks, trailing kisses behind his ear and down his neck. “What do you need from me?”

“I- I need…” Steve keens loudly as a wet kiss is pressed directly to his mating gland. “Your knot splitting me open like I’m just a toy.”

Eddie smiles.

“You are my toy.”

[flowersandbigteeth]

Your vampire husband Pt. 5

General Plot: Your vampire husband turns you

Word Count: 3.5K

Vampire (Levi) x single mother reader

A/N: I've gotten lots of general requests for another part for Levi

💕 SFW MASTERPOST 💕

TW: blood drinking, kidnapping, vampire bites, slightly spicy banter , sfw vampire fluff

“What about this?” you asked Meryl as you strolled through the fancy grocery store you were at. 

You picked up a few glass pots of baby food, holding them up to Meryl. 

“Peach or pear?” 

She looked at them, then looked at you. Smiling, she stuffed a hand into her mouth and drooled. 

You giggled. 

“Okay, both. Daddy can afford it.” 

Since you’d been with Levi, you didn’t normally go out on your own, but you’d been feeling a little stifled at the big house. You were wrapped up in vampire business. Levi had meetings with other vampires, with his subordinates, with his family…There was lots of intrigue to follow, but you felt like you’d lost the real world. Hence, when Levi was out that afternoon, you convinced the vampire guard who usually accompanied you on any trips to let you go grocery shopping. 

She’d wanted to follow you inside, but you were tired of someone looming over your shoulder. You convinced her nothing could possibly go wrong in a grocery store so she could wait in the car. 

It felt like forever since you’d been carefully searching for coupons and rummaging through the bargain bin to feed Meryl, but in reality, it had only been a few months. Meryl was getting bigger, but she was still a baby. 

As you moved to the next aisle, a foul smell floated up from your daughter and you sighed as it was time for another diaper change. Stashing your half-full cart outside, you toted her and her baby bag into the bathroom to get her cleaned up. 

When you came back out, you looked around for your cart to find it further down the hallway than you’d left it, next to the staff entrance. You figured someone had moved it out of the way, so without a second thought, you walked further away from the bright lights and bustling store to fetch it. 

When your fingers closed around the plastic handle, you felt the air brush against your cheek, and your vision went dark. You tried to scream for help, but a cold hand clamped over your lips, and someone wrenched Meryl out of your hands. 

Your motherly instincts told you to fight to the death for your daughter, but the moment you balled your fists, everything went silent, and you saw only oblivion. 

“Meryl!” you shouted when you jerked awake. 

Your eyes popped open, flying around the room you were in frantically. Since you’d last been kidnapped, you forced your focus to your wrists, which were free and unharmed. Looking up again, you noticed a bassinet just beyond the couch you’d been splayed over. 

Hopping up, you found Meryl inside, safe and sound fast asleep. 

You had no idea where you could be. The living room you were in was opulently decorated in an antiquated style and lit by a crackling fire, but did not belong to your husband.

A heavy door swung open, and a tall figure appeared, silhouetted by the light in the hallway. 

“Ivan,” you muttered, recognizing Levi’s cousin, his bright blue eyes glowing like aquamarine jewels.

He took a few steps into the room, grinning. 

“Hello, my dear. I mentioned we would meet again soon.” 

You frowned, stepping between him and Meryl. 

“What am I doing here?” 

His gaze followed your protective gesture, and he smirked. 

“Don’t fret for her safety. Your daughter will not be harmed. She’s actually quite cute up close.” 

Casually walking over to a leather couch, he sat down and patted the seat next to him. 

Your eyes narrowed, but you followed his lead, sitting on the opposite side of the couch, as far from him as possible. He may have been smiling at you, but you knew he was dangerous. Behind baby blue eyes, you could see the hunger of a big cat, tail flicking behind him as he closed in on his prey. 

“What do you want?” you asked. “Levi isn’t going to be happy when I don’t make it home.”

He snorted. 

“Of course. I’m sure he’ll tear his coven apart, murder whoever happens to be in his path… Levi’s weakness is his pithy emotions.”

He examined you closely, leaning his head on his fist. 

“Though, I’m starting to see the vision.” 

“Why are you doing this? Do you want to see him suffer? I thought you were friends. He’s your cousin.” 

Smirking, he moved closer to you. 

“Vampire lords can never truly be friends. Allies…maybe. If it’s convenient.” 

“So you’re declaring war? That’s what will happen if you don’t return me.” 

His face oddly changed, the dark interest in his gaze held melted into puppy dog eyes. 

“Why does he get to have special things and I don’t?” 

“Special things?” you murmured, glancing over at Meryl, who was still sleeping cozily. 

“We aren’t things. We are people.” 

His eyes glinted. 

“Not if I change that. Did Levi tell you everything about what happens when a vampire turns you?” 

“I assume so, what else is there to know?” 

Ivan chuckled, brushing your cheek as he spoke. 

“I doubt it. I’m sure if he had, you’d be quite a bit more frightened right now.” 

He paused for a moment, savoring your innocent face before he terrified you. 

“When a vampire like Levi or I, a full-blooded vampire, changes a human…they become linked to him. Usually, vampires use this quirk to amass an army of slaves…but sometimes they fall in love and use their power to turn that lover. Once Levi changes you (Y/N) you are his forever. You won’t be able to harm him, kill him, or deny his will over you. You’ll be his devoted servant.” 

He sighed. 

“Some vampires, the very, very old ones, believe no vampire can ever really truly love a human, because inevitably they will want to change them so they won’t have to watch them age and die…but how can you be truly a romantic partner when you have no choice to walk away? Perhaps we vampires are cursed to watch the one we truly love slip away from us no matter what we choose.” 

A bolt of ice-cold fear shot down your spine. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Levi,  but the idea of being anyone’s slave for centuries in itself was a terrifying prospect. 

“What…do you…want…from me?” you whispered on a breath. 

His lips parted to a smile that revealed his fangs, sparkling in the firelight. 

“I don’t think Levi’s done enough to deserve you. You were rather easy to capture, so I can only assume he’s not that serious.” 

You tried to slide away from him but only hit the arm of the couch. Your heart thudded in your chest, and instinctively, you looked over your shoulder at Meryl. 

Ivan tipped your head to the side with a cold hand, drawing you back to him. 

“Don’t be scared. Levi has bitten you before…you’ll like it.” 

“I don’t want to be yours if that’s what you’re implying.” 

“You speak as if what you want matters. Levi has indulged you. I can see why…but what do you humans say? Spare the rod, spoil the child.” 

“Levi will kill you,” you warned. 

He just chuckled. 

“He might try.” 

“You don’t really want us. You don’t know us. You’re the spoiled one.” 

He pouted. 

“Why wouldn’t I want you? Levi seems so happy. Too happy. I want to be happy.” 

“Then find your own wife.” 

“Why go to all the trouble when he’s done the work for me?” 

His dark smile dropped suddenly, his ears pricking. 

“Hmm,” he hummed, standing. “Stay here.” 

Ivan held a different level of arrogance, expecting you to hang around for him to bite and enslave you. The minute he shut the door, you tried the windows. They were locked, but assuming Ivan was occupied, you decided to take a risk. You picked up the first end table you could lift and threw it through the glass. 

You winced at the loud crash but didn’t have any interest in sticking around to see if anyone heard you. 

In her crib, Meryl stirred and you cooed at her, hoping to keep her quiet. Scooping her and securing her to your back with a blanket, you threw one leg out of the window, relieved to find you were only on the second floor. 

Gunshots from somewhere nearby, startled you, making you almost lose your footing. Gripping the cold stone window ledge, you carefully lowered yourself to the next one, then easily hopped to the ground. 

Near the entrance of the mansion, you could now see you’d been in, flashing lights accompanied the gunshots. Wondering if Levi had come to save you, you peeked around the corner of the building trying to make out the figures. To your dismay, they didn’t look at all like vampires. It was hard to tell, but you were pretty sure they were Orcs. They looked rather tall and thick in the darkness. 

Running to them might be worse than Ivan, so you turned in the opposite direction, creeping quietly into the night so as not to jostle Meryl and make her cry. 

You stopped when you could see a road just beyond the trees, panting with exertion. Hope bloomed in your chest. A road meant people, and people meant a way home. 

Only you never made it to the next few steps. Someone tugged Meryl from your back and shoved you into a tree. At first, you were sure it was Ivan, but a familiar scent filled your lungs. 

“Levi?” 

In the darkness, you could hardly make out his face, but his red eyes flashed danger. 

“Naughty. Naughty wife,” he growled. 

His voice was low and cruel, the same tone he used when he was about to tear someone apart. Your heart turned to ice, but your thoughts were always on Meryl. 

“Please, Levi, don’t hurt her.” 

His eyes widened and narrowed, the rich red color becoming almost painful to look at. 

“You think I’d hurt my own daughter?” 

Your mouth opened and closed, words caught in your throat. 

“You disobeyed me. You went out without a guard. Were you trying to get stolen? Do I mean so little to you? Perhaps Ivan was right, perhaps I’ve been coddling you.” 

At that, your brow drew. 

“You heard that?” 

He didn’t answer, but your anger grew to match his. 

“You sat outside while Ivan terrorized me…to what? Make a point?” 

“Ivan is stupid and arrogant. You are lucky it was him who caught you and not someone smarter. I gave you a guard to protect you, and you signed her death warrant.” 

You gasped. 

“You killed her?” 

“Ivan’s spawn did. She was caught off guard.” 

He huffed, holding Meryl to his chest. His eyes went dark for a moment as he pressed a kiss into her fluff of hair. 

“I’ve told you a thousand times. My world is dangerous! What do you think it would do to me if someone stole you away? My lessers must obey my orders to the T. She defied me. …at your request. I should have killed her myself. You need to take responsibility.” 

Anger still boiled just below your skin, but so did guilt, and sadness. 

“Fine…” you muttered. “I will take responsibility.” 

You looked up at him, still glowing hot in the pitch-black forest. 

“Change me.” 

He blinked at you and you could make out his mouth opening. 

“What?” 

“I want you to change me. I’m tired of being weak. I’m tired of walking on eggshells and hiding. I want to be able to protect myself and Meryl. If you change me…I’ll…I’ll be strong.” 

He took a heavy step forward, his hand hitting the tree behind you as he searched your eyes. 

“You know what it truly is now…and you still…want that…?” 

Your face blanched, but you lifted your chin defiantly. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because…I was afraid you would say no if you knew the truth…that you might try to run. I planned to tell you...when the time was right. When I knew you’d agree.” 

You sucked in a deep breath. 

“The time is now, Levi. Meryl’s mostly on solid food and…” 

Swallowing heavily, you reached up and pulled Levi’s hand down to you, pressing it against your cheek. 

“I don’t want to be Ivan’s. I don’t want to be anyone’s but yours. Any vampire could steal me away and make me their spawn in seconds.” 

“(Y/N), If you do this for the wrong reasons…you might come to hate me.” 

“I might…but I might not. I love you…and that’s a better foundation than…” 

You didn’t even want to say his name. You didn’t want any part of this conversation to be about him. 

“Your cousin.” 

He blinked at you, pulling you into his arms. 

“You’ve never said that so easily before. I wondered if you really felt the same way that I felt about you.” 

“I…took you and your world for granted. I’m sorry for that. We need to be a united front. We aren’t just married, we’re parents. I trust you…and I love you…so it’s time.” 

He glanced around, picking you up and flopping you over the shoulder that wasn’t occupied with Meryl. 

“We’re not doing it here.” 

You could hardly think straight as he loaded you into an SUV that had been parked on the side of the road. It was hard to formulate a vision of what you would be as a vampire. You squeezed Levi’s hand so hard it would have hurt him had he been human. 

“What happened back there?” you asked, trying to distract yourself from what was to come. 

“I told you, Ivan is stupid. He was already a target for the Orcs for killing one of their leaders during a poker game. I told them where he was hiding out. His idiocy knows no bounds. Stealing from the one person who knows where you are hiding…there aren’t words.” 

He patted your head. 

“I had planned on confronting him while his minions were distracted, but my clever little wife rescued herself.” 

You relaxed at his praise, but he stiffened and shot you a grimace. 

“Don’t do that again.” 

You blinked at him. 

“Will I be able to…after?” 

His face softened, and he looked away.

“If I don’t force my will on you, then yes…but I admit that will be very difficult.” 

“You can’t promise that you won’t?” 

He looked at you for a long time, and you saw the lie cross his mind, but he straightened himself and decided to tell the truth. 

“No, I can’t, and you should understand that before you agree. If you put yourself in danger (Y/N)...I can’t promise.” 

You sucked in a deep breath considering that. 

“Can you promise me one thing, then?” 

The silence stretched on for a minute. 

“If we’re ever in a situation where you must choose me or Meryl. Choose her. That’s what I would want if I could choose myself.” 

A pained look crossed his face, but he nodded, pulling your hand to his lips and kissing it. 

When you reach the mansion, he daintily tucked Meryl in her crib and took you to one of the guest rooms. His face held an expression of complete focus. Levi had changed many humans, but it was not without its risks. If you failed to swallow his blood at the moment of your death, you could be lost forever. 

He considered not doing it at all. Was this selfish? Risking your life so that you might never leave him. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked as he laid you down on the bed.

“Yes.” 

His chest rose and fell with a deep breath. Your fingers trembled, and he folded his hand around yours. 

“Don’t be frightened. Remember when I bit you before? Instead of pulling out of that oblivion…embrace it. You will wake up again.” 

You would have felt more confident if he had not been looking at you like it was the last time. He tilted your head to the side, running a finger over the column of your neck. Your breaths came in halting pants, wondering what being the living dead felt like. 

His head dipped, and you felt his breath tickle your skin. 

“Wait!” you gasped. 

Levi’s head jerked up, and he looked…disturbed. 

“H-have you changed your mind? This cannot be undone, (Y/N).” 

“I-It’s not that…It’s…” 

Your eyes met his; the frightening, glaring shade dimmed to a more sensual scarlet. 

“Will you still love me when I’m cold?” 

He blinked at you before he chuckled. Slapping his chest, you pouted. 

“I’m serious, Levi. What if you don’t like me as a vampire?” 

He wrinkled his nose. 

“Impossible. If anything it will be a relief. Do you know how much I worry? When you balance on a stool to reach a shelf…I wonder if you’ll slip and break your neck. When you are fiddling with your hairdryer, I wonder if some stray drop of water will have you electrocuted.”

He cupped your cheek. 

“You and Meryl are maddeningly delicate.”  

Taking your hand again, he gazed up at you from behind your fingers. 

“We both need this.” 

Swallowing a cold lump in your throat, you relaxed against the pillow under your head. 

This time, Levi’s hand slipped up your stomach, slowly tracing the curves of your body until he reached your throat. Pushing your head to the side, he pressed a soft kiss at the crook of your neck. He gave you no warning, the slight pinch making you jump. A tight mewl slipped past your lips and your instincts told you to pull away, but Levi’s strong fingers held you in place until your fear was replaced with a warm euphoria. It bloomed like a night flower, starting as one tight bud in the pit of your stomach; it blossomed into soft petals capturing all of your senses. 

It was easy to do as he asked: accept oblivion. It called to you in alluring tones. As your vision of the coffered ceiling above your head faded, it was replaced with a golden glow—perhaps a blurry view of the afterlife. On its own, your hand reached towards the warmth, your fingertips grazing an ethereal surface that almost tickled. 

A smile grew on your lips for just a moment, until it seemed to be getting further and further away. The pure sensation of peace and comfort drifted just out of your reach. Something else pulled you closer, willing you to turn your head from paradise and look into the darkness. 

There was a figure there, sanguine eyes bleeding to bitter memories. Horrors that couldn’t be described properly in words, but shook you to your core. It was frightening but familiar. You realized this was Levi. Emotions and images without context flashed in front of you. Cold, pain, emptiness. You watched him grow from a small child to a man. Sadness and regret pressed on your chest, pushing the breath from you until it broke. 

You weren’t sure, but you thought you saw a little flicker of light. It was so tiny at first; you thought maybe you were imaging it, but then you saw yourself. The first time Levi had seen you. The first time he’d seen Meryl. Your smile, eyes, and sadness choking you ebbed like the tide, leaving tenderness behind. 

A dark tendril took your hand, drawing you into his consciousness. What was you bled into what was him, linking the two of you for eternity. The wave of pain that had been drawn away returned as unconditional, undeniable love. You could see how it colored every action, every gesture, every kiss. 

At first, you assumed you were entering him, but it was clear you were already there. Only your independent consciousness had just arrived. 

There were other quiet voices, his other spawn…creatures he’d created. You tasted their thoughts and feelings, but he pulled you into a space separate from them—a space reserved for you. 

This place was insulated, warm, and quiet. He cradled you there and the odd copper taste of blood coated your tongue. You were supposed to be doing something, but you couldn’t remember what. Another warm tendril lifted your chin and you found apple red-eyes looking at you. 

“It’s done.” 

Suddenly, the world was real. You were in a bed– you could feel the fibers of the sheets underneath your fingers. You smelled Levi and Meryl, pleasant scents, and also the odd mish-mash of the other vampires in the house. Your gums ached and you lifted your fingers to glide them over the pointy fangs that had grown from your canines. 

“I feel…different.” 

Levi smiled, eyes slipping over your face. 

“I know.” 

He knew everything. He was in your head, answering your thoughts before you could even express them. 

“I’m not like the others.” 

He’d closed your mind to his vampire minions. It was hard to comprehend the sensation with what lingered of your human thoughts, but you felt nestled someplace close and secret.

“You have access to my thoughts. It’s only fair that if I can see all of you, you can see all of me. You will never be my servant.” 

A hand slid under your shoulders and he sat you up. 

“Will Meryl still recognize me?” 

Before you even finished the thought, he nodded. His vision of you flashed in your mind, still looking like your old self, but a bit more.  You could feel his affection for you in real-time, peace, happiness, relief, and arousal. He wanted to touch you, but he was holding back. Even with access to your innermost feelings, he was unsure how to approach you. 

“Come here.” 

You scooted over on the bed and tugged him next to you. The desire he felt bled into every nerve ending lighting them up. Gazing at him through your lashes, instinct told you to bear your fangs. The pure, sensual hunger you reflected back at him turned his eyes glossy and his cheeks red. 

“I’m hungry.” 

He pulled you onto his lap to straddle him and pushed his hair to one side. He had plenty of blood to share with you. You listened to it occur to him you might want to feed on someone else some day. You felt him extract the little inklking from your consciousness, isolating it, then crushing it. 

You wanted to only feed from him. It might have been alarming that mere minutes after becoming his, he’d used his power over you to change your mind, but you were too hungry to focus on that fact. Levi happily steered your thoughts to his smooth skin and scent, enticing you to bite. 

As you latched on to his neck, his eyes rolled back, the pleasure of your little teeth and the smug satisfaction that you were forever his a heady drug.

[marzipanandminutiae]

oh god this antique side table I just found

I'm dying I-

l e g g y

CLAMP-ass table

[snek-panini]

Book time! I want to post all my new stuff but don't want to flood people with them, so I waited a bit after my last one to put this one up, but I can't wait any longer to show it off. This is The Rose and the Serpent, a Good Omens Beauty and the Beast AU by Atalan. I know there's some kind of fairy tale fic event going on in the fandom right now but this one is from a few years back, so if that's your thing and you're impatient go check this one out.

I'm totally in love with how this one came out. It's like, if you had a cartoon character who's reading a plot-relevant book of fairy tales, this is the book you'd draw for them. Belle has this book. It's perfect for its niche. The front cover is burgundy cardstock with brown faux leather on the spine, and antique-brass-finish photo corners to protect the edges. The rose was done with gold embossing powder and a stamp, since I can't draw and those lines are too fine for the cricut. The batch of books I'm working through now is my first time experimenting with legal quarto size (legal size paper (8.5x14 in.) folded twice) and everyone who raved about it is right. It's very satisfying to hold and was a joy to make.

Check out the rest of my photos under the cut!

Close up of the photo corners and a view of the spine. I've never used photo corners before, partly because I don't ever see them on commercial books, but they just felt right for this project so I felt it was time to experiment. I didn't glue them down, just clamped them closed with jewelry pliers, and I was worried they wouldn't stay in place but they seem to be fine. Cardstock isn't a very hard-wearing material, and if it has a white core it tends to show at the corners of the book where it rubs against things, even under light handling. Hopefully the metal corners will protect it.

The spine title came out well. I was worried about matching the color with the embossing powder color on the front, but they came out fine and I'm very pleased.

Top view, with handmade red-and-green endbands and a green ribbon bookmark. Both of these were chosen to match the absolutely gorgeous endpapers with this mosaic flower pattern. They're chiyogami from ChibiJay and they're stunning; the photos don't do them justice. I bought them because they remind me of the stained glass windows in the Disney Beauty and the Beast. CJ has this great deal where you can make custom paper packs in pre-cut sizes for a discounted price, and they've got hundreds of patterns. This isn't sponsored, by the way, I just think they're awesome.

Some photos of the title page and first page of the story. I'm experimenting with DaFont some more. The one on the title page and for the chapter numbers is called Christmas Card, and the drop capital is called Floral Capitals, both free to use for personal projects. I've only done drop caps on a couple of projects, because for purely personal aesthetic reasons I don't like when they sink into the paragraph, but if I can mimic them by just making the first letter huge? Love that. Defintely going to keep doing that. Can never get the kerning to look right when I do it the regular way, but with this it isn't an issue.

The graphics on the title page are re-used from an older project, but they were so perfect for this one that I just went with it.

As I said above, this is my first legal quarto but it for sure won't be my last! There are three more in this batch, and they're so pleasant to hold that I'll for sure be making more before too long.

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

I'm Your Man

banner by @/cafekitsune

Pairing: John Price x fem!oc (3rd person pov)

Word count: 3.5 K

Warnings/tags: mask and glove kink, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, p in v sex, established relationship

A/N: this skin awoke something in me. Written with only slight description of the oc, but better safe than sorry to not mark it as an x reader fic. Title based on the Leonard Cohen song.

Step by step she moves through the house, checking that each light is switched off, windows are closed and locked, doors too. It's a ritual she's used to now, one that keeps her safe. Secure. Of course she knows if someone did try to break in, some thug in a ski mask, she could easily take care of the fucker. Pressure points, weak spots, faster reflexes – she was no weak link. However, it was always better to be safe than sorry. 

In the bedroom, she peels off the restraints that bind her to society. In the safe haven of her home, in its heart, she no longer needs to keep up appearances. Stripping herself down to the woman underneath and not the elegant mask of a lady. The cool sheen of the silk robe she slips on gently grazes over her flesh. A soft rose-petal pink that makes her glow in the warm golden light of the bedside lamps that cast shadows in the room. 

There's a serene comfort to this room, one she feels more than in any other in the house. It's the place where she is most firmly protected. The confines of her bed are a kind reprieve from the stressors of the day and the madness of the world outside. The sheets are freshly washed, the comforter is thick and warm, it's an embrace she looks forward to as the moon rises higher in the night sky. 

Padding into the en suite to wash off her makeup, truly baring herself before bed, she turns on the faucet. The water runs, the constant stream blocking out the noises of the city streets below. Another step in the process as she massages the cleanser on her face, starting with her cheeks as a froth collects. The splash of water that comes next rejuvenates her tired eyes for a fleeting moment. Each drip down the contours of her face taking with it the remains of the day. Skincare, like everything else in her life, had an order. Something that gave her a sense of control in a world that often proved that was a concept that rarely ever truly existed.

The silence of the house seemed to follow her as she went about her business. A quieting blanket like the hush from fresh fallen snow. Her bedroom left exactly as it was when she returned. The curtains at the balcony doors fluttered. Thin, phantom-like sheers drifting and dancing in the breeze. Shutting the doors, locking the latch, the antique brass chilled from the night air sends a shiver through her starting with her fingertips. 

Taking a moment, she gazes at the world outside steeped in silhouette, the lights in the windows mirroring the stars in the sky. She's lost in thought. A hundred plans and expectations spinning through her mind at once. Grocery lists, dinner plans, the odd chores she needs to take care of before she has to go back to work. Her hand drifts through her hair, pushing back the silken strands as she sighs wearily. Even when she's given time off she still finds ways to fill every ounce of her time. It's easier that way, it keeps the memories at bay. 

When she turns back around, she doesn't notice the dark shape in the corner of the room at first, there's just enough shadow to obscure and enough on her plate to dull her senses. That is, until she's grabbed, tugged into the imprisoning grip of two strong arms that clamp around her like an iron vice.

Her heart races, she yelps out a choked squeal, her eyes wide like captured prey as she chastises herself for being caught off guard. Until she recognizes the all too familiar scent of smoke, heady and thick. The pungent aroma of tobacco seeping from every fiber of clothing. Whiskers rasp against her cheek leaving a prickling trail before plush lips purr into her ear. 

“Did I scare you, love?”

She rolls her eyes, unimpressed by the antics. Her heart rate steadying, flattening out to its usual beat and she relaxes with a huffed laugh. “Bloody prat.”

Elbowing him in the stomach, she finds herself colliding with padding, pockets and straps. Hard ridges and stiff plates. He's in his gear? 

The low, rumbling chuckle that graces the tight space between them fans warm breath over her face tinted with a hint of whiskey and she glances upwards. Her brow lifts in surprise and, to be honest, mild bewilderment. 

He's not just wearing his gear, tac vest, leather gloves, and all. He's wearing a mask – half his face is covered in black, something near resembling a skull, but not quite. A hood covering his head like he's the bloody grim reaper. 

“What the hell’s all this?” A quiet little giggle bubbles out of her at the sight. John’s arms loosen just enough to allow her to turn and face him. “Are you dressed like a comic book villain's henchman for a reason?”

A heavy hand swats the round rump of her making her jump once more as she continues to laugh, dimples carving into her cheeks. 

“Bloody cheeky,” he rasps, gripping her arse and squeezing. “For an op,” he adds as if it was perfectly normal for military men to dress like that on any given day.

“And who decided on the outfits?” Her eyes roam over his figure with a playful gleam. “Riley?” she snickers. “Almost happy I'm on another assignment.”

His piercing eyes narrow from behind his mask, a mischievous glint in them she knew all too well. The only parts of his face revealed are his mouth and jaw which quickly stretch into a wry smirk. 

“Can't tell me it doesn't do a little somethin’ for ya, darlin’,” he drawls.

She sighs and tuts her tongue, shaking her head. “Not even in my top ten fantasies, love.”

Leaning down towards her, the shade of his hood blanking out the light of the room, his smirk transforms into something damn near wolfish. Cold, blue eyes as hungry as a predator. “Is that right?” His voice, husky and deep, is a taunting whisper that leaves her mouth going dry and a heat beginning to bloom in her core.

“Perhaps you’d like to change my mind,” she murmured softly, breathless with the arousal gathering inside her. 

A growl builds in his chest, as thunderous as the ocean in a hurricane. His eyes becoming just as stormy, the grey flecks seeming to flare with his own desires. 

“Tha's my good girl.” 

She swallows thickly as he stalks towards her, guiding her back to the bed with a hand gripping her hip tightly. His calloused fingers toying with the silk material under his touch, the only barrier between him and his prize, kneading at the flesh below. 

“Is the gear staying on too?” she asks with a lift of her brow.

“You bet your arse.”

His smirk damn near makes her melt once more. Her chest rising and falling with short, sharp pants. The flush rising up her skin from her chest to the tips of her ears, floods her with warmth that radiates outwards. Her doe eyes half-lidded as her lips part and she wets them before biting down on the full lower pout. 

“D'you have any idea how much I've been wantin’ you, sweetheart? All soft and sweet and laid out f’me. Draped all pretty across the bed. Been thinkin’ about that gorgeous little cunt o'yours all day.”

She moans softly, a quiet whimper slipping past her lips. The little twist in her gut is the only warning before she knows her thighs will be slick with her need. 

“Get on the bed, darlin’.” He directs her with another gentle tap to her arse. “Want you nice and comfortable.”

Settling onto the mattress, her head resting against the pillows, she focuses on him. Watching as he climbs up and the bed creaks with his weight, concaving under the strength of his hands and knees. He moves with practiced measure, slow, unbothered. It's clear this effort isn't for him, so much as it is for her. There's no need to rush what's about to come. 

His hands slide under the silky garment, climbing up her thighs and increasing the anticipation that flutters in her core, the rough leather leaving a trail of goosebumps behind as he spreads her legs wide for him. 

“So goddamn gorgeous, you know that? Absolutely perfect,” he purrs, lunging forward as if to pounce but instead meeting her mouth in slow, deep kisses. Encouraging her lips to open with a sweep of his tongue along their seam. 

His mustache tickles her lip. The stubble on his chin burns her soft skin each time it rubs against her. It's the stark difference of sensations that leaves her breathless, head spinning as she moans into his mouth. Tongue sliding against his, it curls with each pass. The spice of whiskey and the richness of his cigars spreading over her taste buds and filling her with his essence. 

Her hands, so used to roaming over his body in moments like this, grazing over scars, muscles, and freckles, don’t know what to do with themselves met by armor and tactical clothing. She can’t feel him the way she wants to. The cold carbon of the mask pressing against her forehead throwing her for a loop. 

“John,” she mewls against his mouth, her hips starting to roll and grind against him. The opening of her robe having split open, her bare cunt rubs over rough material and the hard press of the zipper that strains against his stiffened bulge. 

He shushes her, his words a low, throaty whisper as his mouth finds its way to her ear and nibbles on her lobe sending a thrill down her spine, “Lemme take care o’you, darlin’. You know I know best. Just sit there and be your pretty self f’me, love.”

Facial hair pricks her sensitive skin as he scours a trail down the column of her neck, taking the time to suck her salty-sweet flesh and lavish her in open-mouthed kisses leaving red marks from his attention behind. He groans against her, nuzzling into the crook of her neck as much as his gear and mask will allow as his hands begin their ascent along her waist. 

Deft fingers pull the neckline of her robe open and reveal the swells of her breasts. Her nipples pebbling with the growing heat between them, hardening into stiff buds as leather clad digits pinch and twist at them with just the right amount of friction and force. 

Back arching in reaction, whining, growing desperate and needy as he draws out her sweet torture, getting her ready to surrender, she grips at the straps of his vest, holding on for dear life as he begins to dry hump against the wet folds of her mound.

“Christ,” he mumbles, “Love those bloody sounds you make, sweetheart.” His tongue drags against her pulse point before he nips her gently with his teeth, grazing them along her skin to make her shiver.

Slowly working his way down, he nibbles on her collarbone, pressing kisses to the hollow of her throat. The vibrations of the deep purrs that emanate from him travel through her skin right down into the marrow of her bones. 

Lost to him, completely his.

He leans down, glancing up at her from under his hood, eyes glinting. Something primal stirs within him as she lays there at his mercy. His hot breath warming her flesh as he calms himself, regains control. His tongue teases her nipple, circling the areola, before wrapping his lips around it and suckling. Alternating between gentle and rougher tugs on her stiffened bud, biting down gently to make her squeal and grip him harder.

The dark chuckle from his lips makes her eyes flutter shut, she'd think he was being cruel and teasing her if she wasn't so sure of what he was building up to. 

Undoing the waist tie of her robe, it fell away from her like the petals spreading on a newly sprouted flower, opening her to him. All smooth, soft skin for his eyes to feast upon, dragging over her like he was a starving man as ragged breaths crawled up from his lungs.

“Never gonna get tired of that sight. Bloody perfect.”

She didn't think she could feel any more flushed. However, even with the simple compliment, her ears began to burn and her cheeks grew warm. A bashful grin curling her lips.

“Oh, darlin’. Now if that ain't the prettiest sight.” His grin was downright smug, barrel chest puffed up and proud at the way he could still get her to blush like a schoolgirl.

“Shut up,” she giggled, covering her sheepish face with her arm.

His gleeful smirk, darkened by the mask and hood, revealed pearly whites. The hunger in his eyes is all the more prominent as he settles between her thighs, gloved paws wrapping around them, maintaining their distance, keeping them spread wide as he maneuvers each leg over his shoulders. John licks his lips, pink tongue darting out, tasting her in the air like a serpent. 

Breath hitching, she bites her lip, waiting for the inevitable. Time slows to a halt, lingering in that moment like staring down the barrel of a gun. 

Sharp eyes snap to her heaving chest and the shuddering breaths that make her breasts lift and fall, staring at the soft peaks with the attention of a sniper waiting for the perfect shot.

And then the moment strikes –

His tongue travels over her inner thigh, his saliva mixing with the glint of her arousal that has spread over the skin. The small offering imparted to him, gifted to stoke the pangs that have burrowed deep inside. He groans once more as he kisses her slick flesh, the bristles of his beard burning her as he tests her folds with his tongue, licking a long stripe through them before pursing his lips together and blowing softly against her mound. 

She mewls, gripping the sheets on either side of her, sparks shooting through her nerves. Fire and ice tickling every synapse in her brain. 

Flinching, her legs shift as her hips buck and he coils his arms under her thighs, gripping her hips and pulling her back into position. “Stay right there, darlin’,” he orders, a strictness to his command that shoots through her and causes her cunt to clench in response and her body to freeze.

“Tha’s better,” he purrs. “Always such a good girl f’me.” His focus shifts back to the glistening cunt before him and he delves in once more with an unforgiving hold on her thighs, suffocating himself between them. Tongue teasing her clit before wrapping his lips around it, sucking, making her grind against his mouth, moaning and whimpering. He growls against her, and once piercing eyes turn glazed, the lids growing heavy with lust as his tongue drifts through her folds. Pulling every little whine and mewl from her that he can as he sinks deeper into his drunken state on the taste of her. 

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he mumbles, words slurred and almost incoherent with how far he’s drifted, letting his control fall away before returning to his duty. Her hands reach out, pushing back the hood he wears and burying her fingers into his hair. Nails drag over his scalp, massaging at his crown as she finds herself slipping and falling into the pleasure he delivers her.

The room fills with obscenely wet noises as his mouth works her cunt, his tongue slithering, lips sucking. Building her up to the very edge, and bringing her over it, again and again. A man on a mission, aching to make her as much of a begging, weak mess as he feels burying his face in her delicious core. Stomach fluttering in conjunction with her breathless pants, she writhes under his constant touch. Fisting his short hair and trying to pull him away so she can have just a moment to get a hold of herself. She’s losing the ability to think, to speak. Words won’t form, just nonsensical moans as she stumbles into an ecstatic delirium. Her cunt clenches around nothing, walls fluttering as heat pools in her core and at the base of her spine. Clutching her tighter in response, he’s a dog with a bone and he’ll never let it go. Lost in his own moment of peace. A man whose whole life has been defined by his loyalty to his work, his persistence to defeat every obstacle in his way, and here – in this bedroom, between her thighs – he only has to worry about one thing: giving her every ounce of perfect pleasure he can reward her with. 

John ruts against the bed, the friction against his clothed bulge enough to make his eyes roll back in his head as his tongue sinks into the tight entrance of her cunt. This is the only home he needs, doesn’t matter where he is as long as she’s there too. And as she starts screaming, crying out, her voice damn near hoarse with how many times he’s brought her to completion, that coiling knot in his gut makes itself known, tightening like a noose. Their eyes meet, vision hazy, blurred by satisfaction and drunk on the high. The entire lower half of his face is soaked. His beard slick with her juices, mustache glistening in the warm light as he lifts his head and pleads, desperate to relieve the ache in his groin. 

“Please, darlin’...” Blue eyes beg her for release. His ragged breaths are the only evidence of the way he’s worked himself up. The sweat, the reddened face, hidden by his mask. “Please,” he mumbles, flicking his tongue against her swollen, pulsing clit. Her puffy cunt is sensitive, overstimulated. Her thighs covered in her arousal, and the bed covers below her are wet with her slick and his spit. As his tongue grazes her, barely touching the skin, she gasps and moans once more, too weak to make a louder noise. She nods her head, catching her breath, her chest straining to collect enough air as he unbuckles his belt and unzips his fly, his throbbing cock springing free, drooling with precum. 

It’s a sight that always brings her back up to the heights of desire. Even when her mind is a foggy mess she can still recall just how good it feels when he stretches open her velvet walls. While his tongue can work wonders, and his fingers know exactly where to stroke, it’s his cock that she dreams about when they’re apart: the way it fills her with each demanding thrust, the heavy drag of it. 

She collects his chin in her hand and pulls him up towards her. The smirk on his face is intoxicating, his dimples driving her crazy as she cradles his jaw and kisses him, tasting herself on his lips. 

“You’re bloody amazing, love,” he rumbles against her mouth, his hand curling under her, holding her tight to him as she wraps her legs around his waist. 

His cock slips into her easily, she’s so wet there’s barely any resistance at all. Grunting with each pistoning of his hips, John has to close his eyes as he presses his forehead to hers. He’s so close already, it’s easy to tell with each stuttered drive into her depths. There’s no rhythm – as much as he tries – the heavy gear he’s wearing is a burden, slowing him down, adding to his work load. It doesn’t take long however, before he can’t hold out and his eyes squeeze shut, his body tensing. 

“It’s okay, love,” she moans softly, her voice a breathy whisper as she strokes her thumb through the drenched bristles of his facial hair.

He groans, panting heavily, and he can’t stop himself as his come escapes him in hot ropes. His thrusts grow shallower, riding out his orgasm before slipping out of her, leaving a trail of their mixed fluids behind, collapsing beside her on the bed.  

“Fucking hell,” he drawls, pulling off the mask he was wearing and putting it on the bedside table. Puffing out heavy breaths as he rubs a hand down his sweat-drenched face. “That was… something else,” she breathes. Rolling over, she curls up beside him, resting her head on his chest and wrapping an arm over his stomach. “What in the hell gave you the idea to do all that,” she asks, gazing up at him with her large doe-eyed stare, as pretty and sweet as can be.

“You know how I feel about you, sweetheart.” He nuzzled against the top of her head, brushing his nose through her hair as his big hand cupped the back of her head, fingers carding through the soft strands. “I’d do anythin’ for you.”

[hollowed-theory-hall]

The Ministry of Magic: Part 1/?

(Part 2, Part 3)

Legislative Processes

I don't know if I was the only one who was paying too close attention any time Arthur or Percy Weasley mentioned anything to do with their ministry jobs to try and understand how the magical government works... but I made some notes based on random one-off lines that have some implications.

So, I'll start with a short one about one of the ways laws come into existence in the UK Ministry of Magic.

“C-cars, Molly, dear?” “Yes, Arthur, cars,” said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes flashing. “Imagine a wizard buying a rusty old car and telling his wife all he wanted to do with it was take it apart to see how it worked, while really he was enchanting it to make it fly.” Mr. Weasley blinked. “Well, dear, I think you’ll find that he would be quite within the law to do that, even if — er — he maybe would have done better to, um, tell his wife the truth. . . . There’s a loophole in the law, you’ll find. . . . As long as he wasn’t intending to fly the car, the fact that the car could fly wouldn’t—” “Arthur Weasley, you made sure there was a loophole when you wrote that law!” shouted Mrs. Weasley. “Just so you could carry on tinkering with all that Muggle rubbish in your shed! And for your information, Harry arrived this morning in the car you weren’t intending to fly!”

(CoS, 43)

Like, this is bizarre. Let's recap, Arthur Weasley is the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, described as:

“What does your dad do at the Ministry of Magic, anyway?” “He works in the most boring department,” said Ron. “The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.” “The what?” “It’s all to do with bewitching things that are Muggle-made, you know, in case they end up back in a Muggle shop or house. Like, last year, some old witch died and her tea set was sold to an antiques shop. This Muggle woman bought it, took it home, and tried to serve her friends tea in it. It was a nightmare — Dad was working overtime for weeks.” “What happened?” “The teapot went berserk and squirted boiling tea all over the place and one man ended up in the hospital with the sugar tongs clamped to his nose. Dad was going frantic — it’s only him and an old warlock called Perkins in the office — and they had to do Memory Charms and all sorts of stuff to cover it up —”

(CoS, 36)

It's a small office, only Arthur, the office's head, and one employee, Perkins. Even though it's such a small office, that is held in low regard, Arthur still has the legal authority to bill laws relevant to his office. Molly and he literally say he wrote a loophole into the law on purpose!

This means any department or office head in the ministry, regardless of how small or inconsequential they are, has the legal authority to draft a law and offer it to vote in the Wizengamot. We know the law bills get voted on, so at least random ministry personnel can't just make laws for whatever they want.

We don't really know what Araminta Meliflua Black did for a living, but she was clearly legally allowed to draft laws too:

and Araminta Meliflua . . . cousin of my mother’s . . . tried to force through a Ministry Bill to make Muggle-hunting legal

(OotP, 113)

And we know her law didn't pass, so I assume it was dropped during a Wizengamot vote.

But this process shows how much the Ministry of Magic doesn't function like a democracy.

I'll write about what exactly the Wizengamot is, how I believe it functions, and who the members are (I'm pretty sure they aren't elected democratically though. Edit: I wrote it). Still, for now, the legislative process in the ministry is that every office head writes laws in their area of expertise (or anything else they're passionate about, apparently). Then the law gets voted on by the Wizengamot which is both the Parliament (the legislature) and the supreme court of justice in the ministry (somewhat like the House of Lords in the UK used to function in the past).

In democracies, the legislature is usually elected by popular vote or indirectly elected, this group of elected legislators would be the only ones who could legally write laws. As every office head in the ministry has the authority to act as a legislator, I assume no such election methods are in place for every single office in the ministry. For the larger department heads, perhaps, but not every minor office.

If we take the muggle UK as our legislature template, laws can be billed by any member of the parliament (be it the House of Lords or the House of Commons). Then these bills are voted on multiple times by the parliament. It's more complex than that, but my main point is that in every sensible democratic country, the members of the parliament are the ones drafting laws and voting on them. In the Ministry of Magic, it seems like basically everyone in the Ministry can draft a law, not just Wizengamot members (who vote on them).

In the US there are ways for citizens to recommend laws to the member of Congress that represents them, but that's completely different to Arthur just straight up writing a loophole into the law intentionally! There isn't even anyone who oversees the phrasing of the bill, or reads through it to make sure it makes sense or, idk, legal if Arthur could just write what he wished! Or that Araminta could write a bill for muggle-hunting and offer it up to a vote, like... there doesn't seem to be any screening for the laws that go into a vote. Not even for their phrasing.

This is just a messed up little fact about the legislative processes within the Ministry of Magic I didn't see anyone mention that I think is interesting.

[lipglossanon]

Antique Shopping

sweet stepdad!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader - NSFW

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, stepcest, sweet stepdad being mean 🫣, condescension, really leaning into dad/daughter dirty talk, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, public sex, breeding kink, creampie

not proofread ✌️

“Oooh look at this!” you call out to Leon who’s flipping through some old vinyls in the corner. 

“What is it?” His brows furrow as he takes in the knickknack you’re holding up. 

“It’s a scarecrow,” you grin, turning it so he can see the burlap painted face. 

“Consider me scared,” he smirks at you making you roll your eyes with a laugh. 

“Why? You some old crow?” You smart off, turning to put the little figurine back on the shelf. 

He walks over to where you’re browsing the shelves stuffed with random items ranging from costume jewelry to books on tape. 

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he drops kisses to the side of your head and down to your neck making you whimper as chill bumps race down your arms.  

“Daddy,” you sigh, letting him tug you back as he kisses and bites at your neck until you’re rocking back against him. 

He pulls you deeper into the antique store, passing decorative furniture and paintings until you’re in a secluded corner between some cabinets. 

Leon slips his fingers underneath the band of your panties and leggings to swipe across your clit. 

“Oh, you’re gonna get us caught,” you whimper, hands grasping onto his biceps as he teases your clit with soft circles. 

“Not if you’re quiet,” he kisses your check, “be good for your dad, sweetheart, and let him play with your cute little pussy.”

Mewling, you lean back against the wall and let Leon tease across your slit until his fingers part your wet folds to tease at your hole. 

“She’s crying already,” he murmurs in your ear, sliding his middle and ring finger into your pussy, “little pussy needs her dad’s fingers, huh?”

Leon kisses you hotly to stifle any noise you make. Eyes fluttering, you whimper and suck on his tongue as he slowly fucks his fingers in and out of your clenching hole. 

“Feels so good,” you whisper, eyes gathering tears as you try to keep quiet. 

“Oh, I know, baby,” he coos, “maybe I should slip my cock into this needy little cunt.”

You clamp down on his fingers as you bite on his bottom lip, “Leon.”

“Don’t you want me to fill your little pussy full? Stretch you out on my fat daddy dick, baby?”

Slick drips all down his fingers as he scissors you open, thumb circling your clit slowly. 

“C’mon,” he nips your earlobe, “you know you do. Want daddy to stuff his daughter’s hot little cunt.”

He chuckles as your thighs clamp around his wrist, but it doesn’t stop him from fingering into your wet pussy. 

“Daddy, you’re being so mean and dirty,” you whimper, hips rolling into the rhythm of his finger fucking.  

“Poor baby,” he kisses you until you can’t breathe, “didn’t you tell me last night how I’m not rough enough?”

Your head drops back against the wall, “I was just teasing, daddy.”

“Mmm,” he hums and kisses your neck, “maybe so, but I’m gonna play with my daughter’s cute pussy as long as I want.”

Your hips jump forward as he grinds his fingertips against your g-spot, smirking down at you, crows feet deepening in the corner of his eyes. 

“There we go, ride your dad’s fingers, sweetheart,” he sucks a mark into your skin, “be a good girl for me.”

“Dad, daddy, ‘m gonna cum,” you pant, trying to keep your voice down, eyes too hazy to really look around and make sure no one’s nearby. 

Leon’s fingers still inside your fluttering walls, thumb pressing down on your puffy clit as he presses even closer to you. Before you can whine, he kisses you messily and then you hear the hushed conversation of a pair of women walking down the aisles next to you. 

Your eyes roll back as slick oozes from your cunt and all over Leon’s fingers and hand, whimper caught in your throat as he licks across your tongue. The thought of someone seeing Leon with his fingers buried in your pussy makes you clench and pulse around his digits, hands clawing at his shoulders as your clit throbs under his thumb. 

You can feel his laugh against your lips as he sloppily kisses you again and again, until he’s just lazily fucking his tongue slowly in and out of your mouth. His dark blue eyes looking down at you makes you burn hot all over. He’s drooling all in your mouth and you can only tug him down, mentally begging him for more. 

The women move from the far end of the aisle down to being right next to you, just on the other side of the cabinet you’re tucked behind. Leon’s thumb roughly presses down on your clit as he sloppily sucks on your tongue. You’re so turned on you can’t even breathe. 

Leon lets go of your tongue with a soft pop and pulls his fingers away from your soaked cunt. He then tugs your leggings and panties down to your thighs before pulling his cock out from his unbuttoned and unzipped jeans. Stroking himself with the slick coating his hand, he grabs the base of his drippy uncut cock and presses it against your clit. 

You feel wild as you can still hear the women in the next aisle talking even as your stepdad rubs his cock across your wet cunt. Reaching down, you spread your pussy lips open, watching as Leon’s eyes narrow, biting his lip as he sinks his cock into your dripping hole. 

He covers your mouth with his big warm hand as he rocks his hips forward, slowly working his dick deeper into your spasming cunt. 

His lips press against your ear, “Gonna cream my little girl’s hot pussy. Give you all of daddy’s thick sticky cum til it’s dripping down your thighs.”

You want to scream; you feel too much as he ruts his fat cock into your cunt, thumb playing with your pudgy clit as he whispers dirty words into your ear. 

He flicks your swollen bud and your cumming all over his cock, slick leaking down his shaft to drip down his balls as he presses his hand harder against your mouth. 

“Fuck, that’s it, cream my cock,” he hisses, hips stuttering under the pressure of your pussy squeezing around his dick. 

“Little pussy gripping me so tight I can’t even pull out,” he teases, grinding against you, “don’t worry, I won’t pull out, gotta stuff my daughter full, right?”

You mewl behind his sweaty palm, pussy fluttering around his cock as he swivels his hips against yours. 

The voices of those women taper off as they walk away, moving back to the front of the store. Leon waits a beat and then pulls halfway out of your soaked cunt before bullying his cock back inside. 

“Take it, take it,” he pants, moving both hands to your hips, canting you forward so he can fuck you deeper and harder, “mmm, g’nna cum all in this sexy fucking pussy.”

“Daddy,” you whimper, cunt throbbing, feeling on the edge of another orgasm as he knocks against the spongy spot in the front of your pussy. 

“Oh, fuck, you’re gettin’ tighter,” he slurs out, eyes completely blown out as they stare down at you, “cum for me again, sweetheart. Want you to cum for me and I’ll creampie your cute pussy.”

With trembling fingers, you reach down to softly rub your clit as Leon keeps hammering against your g-spot. He bucks into you hard and bumps your cervix, making you clench down with a low squeal, climax overtaking your body until your eyes roll back.  

“God, so perfect,” Leon groans, burying his cock deep in your squelching pussy. 

A low moan rumbles in his chest as the tip of his cock spurts rope after rope of hot cum inside your clenching pussy, walls fluttering and milking his thick length. 

“Good girl,” he kisses your neck, then your ear, “mm, such a good girl for me. Love you so much, baby.”

“Daddy,” you whimper as he pulls out of your cunt with a low suctioning noise, his cum leaking down your thighs. 

He groans and helps pull your panties and leggings back up. 

“Let’s get you home,” he kisses the side of your head, “so proud of you, did such a good job for me, sweetheart. Gonna give you a nice massage and then a hot bath once we make it back to the house.” 

“Yeah?” You smile up at him, eyes hazy as you feel his cum oozing from your cunt into the gusset of your panties. 

“Of course,” he grins down at you, “my way of apologizing for cutting this trip a little short, too.”

You giggle and link your arms together, “You’ll just have to bring me back later, then.”

“It’s a date,” he smiles and dips down to kiss you on the lips.

divider: firefly-graphics

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

The First Motorhome!

Remember when things were so much simpler?  The Ford House-Car Q-dog

This is one of only six Ford House-cars said to have been made per year in the mid-30's at the Ford plant in St. Paul, Minnesota, according to an article in a 1993 "Old Car​s​" magazine.

Very few others - perhaps none - remain on the road and certainly not in such amazing original condition!

When discovered in a garage under a heavy cover in northern Minnesota in August of 2001, it had only 19,000 miles on the odometer and the owner's manual was still in the glove box in like-new condition! 

The RV had always been garaged and treated with much 'TLC' as a collector vehicle. 

The all wood lined interior was still the way it appeared in the '30's complete with framed photos of the original owner on his travels, mainly to Florida, and his cabin in the North Woods. It also had other memorabilia from that era.

The Ford House-car was built on a '37 Ford Pickup frame and cowling and was powered by a 60 horse power, flathead V-8 with aluminum heads. The rear framing is all wood, with the metal skin wrapped around it. The roof structure is all wood over which the heavy, waterproofed canvas top is still very securely fitted. The structure of the body is solid, appearing to be all oak hardwood and it's still in a remarkably unaltered, undamaged condition! The door frames are thick, solid oak as are the window frames although those have been painted over. 

This House-car was a big hit at this campground once we got that great old 'flattie' V-8 hummin'! Note the expanding roof (it's that 'extra' roof piece barely visible in the picture) and the original dark green color, which has been repainted. All four side windows open while the back one tilts out in three positions. The windshield also tilts open at the bottom for 'natural' AC while driving. Here are a few shots of the Ford House-car on the road...

Here's a look at the interior.

It's a slice right out of 1930's just as the original owner had it. All the windows have curtains for privacy and there are pull-down shades on the back window, as well as on the driver's and passenger door windows. Note the wide storage cabinet under the bed.

The wood headliner gives the 'cabin' a warm and inviting rustic feel. You can also see it has a ceiling vent and the canvas expanding roof portion visible in this picture. Four wood pieces securely support the expansion when it's in the 'up' position, while clamps secure it when it's down while traveling.

Note the cedar branches hanging in the corners to give the cabin a natural, north woods aroma. Cabinets and the aluminum sink, that includes a wooden cover insert, are visible on the left. All the antiques inside, as well as on the walls, came along for the ride. Also note the collapsible table behind the driver's seat. 

It's amazing how simple vehicles were back then! No computerization to be concerned about!

[joeflanagantrading]

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

It Was Only Supposed to be a One Night Stand (Part 9)

Tw: smut, sexual content, fatshaming, skinny shaming, dub-con but from reader, monty's parents bullying n shit

Vote belows i will only consider the first 21 votes

"I love you..." He mumbled into your neck. His strong, scarred arms trap you flush against his massive form.

You told him to quit it, you need to unpack your suitcase that's on the floral sheets.

The bedroom that you and he will be sharing is... quaint and very old-fashioned. The wallpaper is made of small repeating patterns of sunflowers and the bed has a sepia tint to it. Probably due to oldness.

The lampshades are from the 70s, dusty and yellowed with tassels on its brim. The floor is made of creaky wooden boards and almost all the furniture is made of antique oak; there is even an old box TV with protruding antennas. But the overall vibe of the room does give you a strange sense of nostalgia and comfort.

Montgomery did not let go, instead, he let his hands roam under your shirt and grope wherever he wanted freely. No wonder he closed and locked the door as soon as you entered his room. He nipped at the skin on your neck, and you let him.

He pushed the suitcase away, and you turned around to give him a kiss on the lips, which then progressed to a full makeout session. Montgomery gently pushed you onto the bed, where he straddled your hips as you scooted backward until your head rested on the pillows. Mouths still move against each other, filling the desolate room with loud smooches and smacks.

"Please be quiet for me, darlin'. These walls are thin." He whispered, with a worried gaze in his eyes. He then went back to kissing you, effectively silencing any other noise except muffled moans. His calloused hands slid down to your pants, unbuttoning them and fondling you through your underwear.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he did all the work, just like how it usually goes. Montgomery would love for you to just relax as he pleasures you with his mouth, hands, or cock. You worked so hard for him, don't you deserve a rest?

He tucked a hand into your underwear, toying with your sex and making you hitch your breath. The other hand was busy unzipping and undoing his Jeans.

You grunted when he pressed down on your sweet spot. Montgomery only hushed you as he continued assaulting your neck, suckling on that one sensitive spot that made you mewl under him.

"Shh..." He lets go of your skin and captures your wet lips in his again, not wanting to risk anyone hearing the both of you. Montgomery only then pulled his briefs down, soaked in precum as soon as you shivered from your first orgasm. You're now fully prepped and lubed for the real action. He rubbed the tip teasingly at your entrance, making it slicker and ensuring that this would be painless and pleasurable. A hand of his was still toying with your genitals, wanting to see you climax one more time very soon.

You arched your back when he finally entered you, he pressed his hips firmly against yours and kissed you deeper.

The pressure of his weight on you felt nice, you felt secure as he fucked you into the bed. He slowed down when he realized how creaky it was, it would be very obvious to whoever's listening that you and him were making love vigorously. He gently rocked himself back and forth, providing the much-needed stimulation for you to be in this familiar bliss.

It was cold, but you had each other to keep warm.

He slid his lips down to your neck, continuing to litter hickeys all over your skin. Montgomery used a free hand to clamp your mouth shut, not tightly that it causes bruising, but enough to muffle any lewd sounds.

"You're... so unbelievably hot. I just can't keep my hands off ya'." He whined softly before licking at your earlobe. He was stirring your guts as quietly as he could, but the impact kept making your head explode euphorically.

Fluids from you and Montgomery leaked out at the site of action, ruining the sheets and filling the scent of sex in the air. He didn't mind how he got some of your juices onto his shirt, he can always change them later.

You surprised him by wrapping your legs around his lower torso and forcefully slamming him down into you. He lets out a yelp before slapping a hand over his mouth, watching you with wide eyes. You only grinned as you squeezed your walls around him.

"N-no... w-wait...!" He whimpered and gasped as you took control of the situation. Grabbing him by the collar, you yanked him to your lips and shoved your tongue down his needy throat.

He went limp as you ran your fingers through his hair, you swore you saw his eyeballs rolled back into his skull and his upper eyelids fluttered erratically. Manipulating his thrusts using your legs, making the springs in the mattress scream and the headboards slam against the wall.

Montgomery pules weakly as he emptied his balls into your hole, letting hot cum drip out of it. But you kept going, thrusting your hips upwards onto him, making him pump into you more and splattering semen everywhere. He was visibly lightheaded and woozy, yet you took advantage of that.

He must have really found you irresistible because he kept ejaculating consecutively over a few minutes. The slightest bit of movement caused him to go over the edge and blow another load inside, cum drooling down his testicles and pooling down to his knees that are digging into the soft foam. Each time he climaxed, his muscles would tense up and he would struggle to stifle the loudest moan of his life.

You realized that you went too far with him when he was completely unresponsive, sprawled on top of you with spit dribbling down his chin. But his dick is still awake, it gets momentarily limp for every rope he shoots, but then it became hard once more from the smallest twitches.

In the end, you decided to stop, pushing him off you and pulling him out after the final orgasm.

You're worried because tears were building up in his eyes, they rolled down his already wet cheeks. You shook him, but he was like a ragdoll that was leaking more cum from his exhausted member. You checked his pulse, it's a little elevated but he's definitely still alive and breathing. He's just stuck in his personal heaven... or hell, by the looks of it.

You then realized how much of a mess you had made, you don't think you would be comfortable sleeping in these sheets tonight.

You continued shaking him until his eyes had some light back into it.

"W-what...?" He slurred, wiping his chin with the back of his hand, it was instantly wet with drool and tears.

You immediately apologized, you shouldn't have done that.

"No! Don't- Don't be sorry, I love you." He hastily shot back up to kiss you on the forehead, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a bear hug. "You're amazing..." He mumbled absentmindedly as he had yet to recover from the mind-numbing rapture he experienced.

Montgomery became cuddly and affectionate, showering you with kisses all over your face and arm. He would complain when you tried pulling away, he doesn't care about unpacking right now, Montgomery just wants you in his arms.

He clung onto you like a vine, muttering about how you're his divinity and his savior. Breathlessly worshipping you for being in his life and giving him yet another spectacular session, where you took care of him, instead of Montgomery's original plan to make you a freeloading, pillow royalty.

You sighed. It will take a while before he comes down from his high.

__

You and he had to walk down the stairs of shame, to the dining table. In new sets of clothes and new sets of memories seared into each other's brains.

"Well if it ain't the lovebirds! Glad y'all could make it to dinner." Greeted Mr. Yeller, Montgomery's father.

"Hey, Pa. Hey, y'all." Montgomery awkwardly waved at everyone sitting at the table. You finally saw the rest of them from the picture, this is one crowded table. His siblings didn't care to spare him a glance, except for Baby-Ruth, who was genuinely excited to say hi to you.

"I'm surprised! You two were goin' at it like a jackhammer and some concrete, y'all ain't all plum tuckered out?" Mrs. Yeller sets down a casserole dish on a coaster before removing her oven mittens.

Montgomery's face and ears suddenly turned bright red and his eyes were bulging out of his sockets. He kept his lips sealed and pulled your seat out for you.

"Oh yeah! We heard ya'. Goin' hog wild in there-"

"Oh my god Dad, can we just eat?" The youngest, Noel, scowled.

Montgomery let his shoulders sag in relief as his younger brother came to his aid.

Mr. Yeller frowned but decided against saying anything in retaliation.

Mary-Grace decided to proceed with the dinner. "Let's say grace."

Everyone at the table bowed their heads down as they clasped their hands together. You mirrored them and closed your eyes as well.

You didn't really care to pay attention to the words, it was all generic and the same anyway. So you only said Amen when everyone did.

"Alright, dig in!" Mr. Yeller gestured towards the spread. "Let our city dwellin' guest do the honors."

However, no one moved an inch except Montgomery. He was filling your plate for you as they all silently watched. He then built his own plate of dinner.

The next person to take the food was Mary-Grace, but it doesn't seem like she's taking them for herself due to the sheer amount.

It was confirmed when she stood up and walked to where all the children were seated. They all shriek in joy at the sight of food.

Emerson went next, she only took half a spoonful of collard greens.

"Aw, Emerson! Ya' gotta take s'more, you ain't need no diet. If anyone needed a diet, it's Betty!" Mrs. Yeller guffawed. All eyes were on the sibling with the most uncomfortable expression on her face. She pulled on her already oversized sweater and made herself smaller.

You shot her a sympathetic look.

Betty ends up excusing herself from the table.

"Oh! I forgot I have some pecan pie bakin' away in the oven!" Mrs. Yeller shot up and hurried to the kitchen.

So Beau's wife went next, filling her handsome husband's plate with all his favorite foods.

"Y'know, Monty. I expected our little guest there to do that for ya'. But ya' did it for them instead. I guess you're not the one wearin' the pants in the relationship!" Laughed Mr. Yeller.

Beau and his wife simply had a blank expression. Montgomery looked annoyed, but he was quiet.

"I guess it's an ugly thing, seein' the ones bein' pampered are prettier than their partners." Laughed Mr. Yeller. "Don't tell Ma I said that she still fixes my plate."

Beau's wife looked like she was already used to it. Beau didn't react, but Montgomery seemed insecure.

You said that she's beautiful and Montgomery is handsome. Earning a surprised look from everyone at the table.

Mr. Yeller simply shook his head. "You city people have some real weird tastes. Anyways, where's Rufus?"

"He said he will be skippin' dinner." Baby Ruth informed her father as she went ahead to gather her food.

"Damn, work is the only thing on that boy's mind. And booze too."

Finally, it's Noel's turn. Shockingly, there were no insulting comments made.

Everyone ate in silence, you poked at your plate, thinking that it was too greasy for your liking. But for the sake of keeping the peace, you decided to pretend to like it.

You couldn't keep your mind off Betty, though. Poor girl, you hope that she isn't feeling too upset over that.

"Here comes my pecan pie! Hot, hot!" Mrs. Yeller came rushing in, holding a tray of steaming pie.

No one bats an eye, everyone seems to eat fast as if they're trying to get it over with. It was insanely awkward, no one else was interested in you or what Montgomery had experienced living in the city for years.

You felt immense regret agreeing to come with him. This is such an appalling family dynamic.

"So, how did y'all meet?" All heads were turned to Baby-Ruth, she had a beaming smile and eyes filled with interest.

Everyone whipped their head to look at you, even Montgomery.

You took a few seconds to think about your reply.

[vanessagillings]

You have such a lovely art style! It reminds me of antique Japanese paintings mixed with Beatrix Potter. Do you have a story you would would like to illustrate that you haven't gotten to yet?

Thank you so much!

You're actually not that far off about my inspirations! Most of my family is British (English and Welsh) so I very much grew up reading classic British children's literature, including Winnie the Pooh, Paddington, and -- of course! -- Beatrix Potter. But I was born and raised in Northern California where I also read a buttload of manga before it was widely translated into English (日本語が読める). My favorites were Sailor Moon (of course) and anything by CLAMP.

I DEFINITELY have stories (so many stories!) I'm intending to both write and illustrate that I haven't finished yet...part of why I've been re-posting so much lately is that I'm furiously working on them behind the scenes. 😅 I'm hoping to write both picture books and novels for older children...you'll likely see plenty of my characters around here soon (and have actually seen a number of them already, all sneaky-like). 💛

[heartfullofleeches]

NOW DO HUMAN C.C AND DEMON! READER. I AM BEGGING. ANYTHING? I imagine C.C as am idol or streamer (since for stripper we have June??). And the tattoo artist Baron vs C.C human fighting over who gets to feel reader.

(Canon C.C is a D.J which I feel transfers over fine.)

"Hey dude, loved your set!"

"Thank you so much!" C.C smiles and puts on a good face - shoving the fan aside as passively as he could once they've taken up too much of his time. He storms off stage, eyes scanning the crowd as he clamps down on his polished nails.

Where are you, where are you?

A packed venue and the greedy nymph was close to losing his shit. It was his first week back after a needed hiatus and the tensions were high. He needed something to help him with the rest and went to the only person who could help.

"Just focus on one person in the crowd and think of them as your muse. Maybe a close friend or acquaintance?"

His brother was an obvious no-go, but that guy from the antique store gave pretty solid advice. C.C had plenty of friends, but none he'd fancy looking towards for peace of mind. He found his muse that first night and was lucky enough to see them the rest of the week. A pretty face, but one easy to lose in a large crowd. Something about those eyes too. The only problem was he'd gotten a tad bit too hooked on that serenity, and fallen for that mystery person. He needed to know what their voice sounded like and if they were free this weekend. What their favorite color was and if it'd look good as his next dye job.

C.C admits defeat at the bar, ready to drown his sorrows away in whatever top shelf trash he could get his hands on.

"One Coke, please. For him."

C.C side eyes the person next to him, snorting back a laugh as the drink is set out for him. "Is that how you get noticed by all the pretty girls?"

"No, just ones I'd like to feel no remorse by morning."

C.C catches a glimpse of that familiar grin from his peripheral view as the stranger laughs, placing those angelic lips round the rim of their glass. His throat feels dry, and every breath only increases in tightness in his lungs.

"Well, it's better to start the night off dry anyway." His nails clink against the glass as he takes it in his trembling mitts, drowning himself in the fizzy drink until the cup was empty. "So, you got a name? Seen you around here the past couple of nights and it'd be a shame to let you slip away again without knowing."

He's not planning on letting them anywhere, but it's probably better if they're unaware of this tidbit. He hasn't had the best of luck in the past, but he's getting one thing tonight if it's the last thing he does. Their phone number, or their license plate.

"It's Y/n. I'm normally not one for big crowds, but the music has picked up in quality lately. I assume it's your doing, but you already have enough talent with that cute face."

C.C chokes on pure air. "So... What's your favorite color?"

[pwlanier]

ANTIQUE WHALEBONE SEWING SWIFT / WINDER, umbrella form having 12 "arms", attached to turned mounts with incised rings accented by red and black coloring, below featuring an ill-fitting set-screw, topped by a removable, probably replaced, cup finial, base with a wooden clamp. 19th century.

Jeffrey Evans