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talaok · 2 months ago

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Giving up

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Coaxing your neighbor into having sex with you although he's unsure since he's much, much older than you

Warnings: big ass unspecified age-gap, Jackson!Joel is a softie Smut| unprotected piv, crempie, insicure!joel, sub!joel, also my man has trouble lasting cause he's not done this in a very long time.

a/n:i needed to write some cheesy romantic stuff, and maybe it doesn't really make all that sense in this story and maybe i cried while writing this cause no one is ever gonna love me like this but so what bitch leave me alone (i also am i lil tipsy as i proofread this, so ignore any mistakes pls)

Part 1

"did you do something to your hair?"

Tommy was standing on Joel's doorstep, looking at him as if he were an alien.

"I washed 'em" he grumbled, "what do you want?"

His brother couldn't help but huff out a laugh

"someone's in a good mood today"

"I've gotta be somewhere, just tell me what you want"

Tommy's interest was only piqued more.

there stood his brother, his clothes perfectly clean- maybe even ironed- his hair... styled, his beard trimmed...

something was definitely going on.

"Where are you going?"

Joel rolled his eyes now, shooting his little brother a death glare

"none of your business"

Oh he knew what was going on...

"Who is she?"

"Tommy-"

"Is it Jessica? I bet 's Jessica, she's always flirting with you you ol' dog-"

Joel swore he was gonna punch him- he was already running late because of how long he took to pick his clothes- finding a flannel that wasn't completely worn out turned out to be real fucking hard.

He felt stupid for how much effort he'd put into getting ready, he felt stupid for how anxious he was, but most of all... he wanted his brother to go away.

"There ain't no one, Tommy- now, if there ain't anything you need, please go-"

But just then- just when he was finally going to get rid of him, your sweet, soft voice made its way to his ears.

"Hi Joel! Hi Tommy!" You smiled from your porch, waving your hand at him and his brother "You didn't forget about today, did you Joel?"

What in the actual fuck?

Tommy did a double-check, looking between you and his brother, and when he finally confirmed that it was actually him you were talking to, you whom he'd gotten all dolled up for, he couldn't do anything but let out a slow, long breath.

"No I didn't- I'll be there in a minute, darlin'!" Joel was answering you as his brother regained his ability to speak

"well... Fuck. Me" he was in awe, his voice barely a murmur

"it ain't like that" Joel was quick to intervene "'m just fix-"

"'m sure it ain't" Tommy let out a chuckle, his hand going to pat his brother's back "You fucking lucky bastard"

"Tommy I know she's young bu-"

"shut up man" he laughed "Just go have fun, you asshole"

__ __

"Sorry 'm late, Tommy was just-"

You smiled at his words, shaking your head

"It's ok, Joel" you cooed as you let him in,

He gave you a soft little smile, and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

Joel Miller didn't smile just at anyone.

"water?" you asked, leading him to the kitchen.

"Uhm- sure"

His heart was damn near beating out of his chest already- for no fucking reason at all.

Well except the obvious one... you'd sucked his dick and he'd eaten you out three days ago- and you'd made it clear you wanted more.

Jesus Christ, he felt like a fourteen-year-old with his first crush.

You watched him as he sipped on the glass.

"So?" a soft smirk was caged between your teeth "Did you think about it?"

He damn near choked.

Which didn't make any sense, he was expecting this, he already knew you'd ask.

He cleared his throat, diverting his eyes from you "I-I have"

"And?"

You'd gotten closer, your expectant eyes studying every inch of his face

pleasepleasepleaseplease say yes

"Did- didn't you have something that needed fixing?"

Oh for fuck's sake

"joel" you called for him in what almost sounded like a plead.

"darlin' just... lemme fix your cabinet first"

This man was gonna be the goddamn death of you.

"ok"

__ __ __

As it turns out, in many different ways.

Who knew watching him fix something would turn out to be so fucking hot?

He'd rolled his shirt up so that his strong forearms and a glimpse of his beautiful bite-worthy biceps were showing, his hands moved so very expertly that they couldn't help but bring back memories of what those same fingers had done to you just a few days ago, and his face... he looked so hot when he was all in his head, concentrated only on the task before him-

or so you thought.

"You're gonna stare at me the whole time?"

A soft laugh escaped your lips

"don't mind me- just enjoying the view"

He huffed out a laugh as he went back to work, but you couldn't help but notice the fact he pushed his sleeves ever further up his arms, giving you more of a view of his delectable skin.

What a tease

__ __ __

"there we go" he said after some time, opening and closing the cabinet one final time to make sure "all done"

For the record, this time you hadn't even done it on purpose, the cabinet had actually broken. It was like fate was sending you a message.

You awakened from your daydreams as he stood up to his full height, and hopped off the stool you were sitting on to walk closer to him, noticing some dampness in your panties while doing so...

It wasn't your fault... he was the one looking way too hot doing such a simple task.

"thank you" You smiled up at him, your hands going to his chest,

He held his breath for a moment

"'s nothing babygirl"

"yeah? then... you think you could check my bedroom too?" you were biting your lip in a way that made your question take on a whole different meaning "to make sure nothing needs fixing y'know?"

"In your... bedroom?"

"yes, Joel- please" you added, with your best innocent doe eyes.

Which of course made him fold in a matter of seconds.

You'd taken on a different tactic. It was obvious at this point that the man was too shy and too unsure to give you an answer (or the one you wanted to hear anyway), which is why you needed to present him with the actual possibility right in front of him.

And yeah maybe it was manipulative, but fuck it if you didn't wanna feel the man inside of you.

The flashbacks of what he did to you on that bed filled his mind the moment he stepped into the room.

He needed to get a grip or he wouldn't be able to hide his growing bulge in a minute.

"Everything seems right"

"yeah? 'm not sure about the bed" you hummed, desperately hoping he would just go along with it "it makes a weird sound when I get on it"

He turned to you then, his eyes locking with yours for an infinite second.

"try" you said finally, nodding to the bed.

He watched you for a moment longer before, surprising you, he did it- he sat on the bed.

The mattress creaked underneath his weight, and you made quick work of strolling closer to him as he pressed his palms on the bed, checking for the inexistent "weird sound"

"it don't look like there's anythin' wron-" he looked up the moment your hands found his shoulders "Whatcha doin'? sweethear-"

You were sat on his lap before he could even finish the sentence.

"Joel" you spoke his name softly, as if it were a caress, your hands slowly moving up and down from his shoulders to his pecs, as you finally scooted closer to him so your core was right against the hardness in his jeans-

He inhaled sharply, his fingers curling on the bed.

"would you like to have sex with me or not?"

You accentuated your words with a slow roll of your hips, grinding onto him and making a soft groan build inside his throat

"this- this ain't really fair sugar"

A smirk pulled at your lips as you lowered your head to whisper in his ear "I never said I didn't play dirty, Mr. Miller"

Your right hand trailed lower, moving down his belly so slowly that Joel thought he might just lose his mind.

"You're y-young baby-"

Your hand had found his crotch, the outline of his dick fitting in your hand oh so perfectly.

"we've gone over this already Joel, I'm old enough" you purred, your lips leaving a peck just below his ear "old enough to do many many things"

He cursed under his breath

"I just... I don't understand"

A breathy laugh escaped you

"there's not much to understand really" you murmured "You're hot, and I like you, and I wanna get in your pants"

That earned you a chuckle

"and you're sure you won't regret this?" he asked, "you sure this is what you really want- that- that you don't want to give a boy your age a chance instead of me?"

You smiled as you looked up at him,

you'd never met a man so sweet

"Joel, I promise you I'm sure" you whispered "I promise you this is what I want, you are what I want"

Fucking damn it

How could he ever say no after that?

With those gentle eyes of yours looking at him, with your hand right over his cock...

"So?"

He was gonna think about the consequences tomorrow. Now- now there was only you.

"yes"

That single word sounded better than any song you'd ever heard.

yes

Your lips were on his before he could even think of changing his mind- and god did they feel like a dream.

His soft stubble grazed against your cheeks and upper lip, as you deepened the kiss, as he opened up to you, closing his eyes only after he'd taken you in, only after he could admire all that was happening to him for some godforsaken reason.

A growl rumbled from his chest when your core found his dick again, grinding onto it in a way, that combined with the way your tongue was tasting every inch of him, was making him see stars.

He didn't think he'd kissed like this in 30 years,

making out seemed like such a distant thing from him, he was much too old to do something like this, and yet... everything about you made him feel like a teenager all over again, so perhaps it was fitting-

and god he had forgotten how amazing it felt.

You started undoing his flannen, not even dreaming of breaking the kiss, and once you opened his shirt up, once his big strong chest was right there before you, you just had to look at it.

You leaned away, his lips chasing yours making you smile as your gaze lowered.

Jesus, he was the hottest man you'd ever seen.

Some hair and freckles adorned his pecs, his little belly was ever so cutely fighting against his jeans- his skin was soft beneath your palms as they explored every inch they could reach.

He was looking at you, watching your blow-out eyes, wondering what potion you'd drank to be this mesmerized by what he had to offer.

You smiled once you caught him, leaning closer to leave a quick kiss on his lips.

"take off your clothes"

You got off of him, and once he saw you get rid of your shirt, your boobs pushed together by a simple black bra that somehow, at the moment, seemed like the sexiest thing in the world, he rushed to follow suit, nearly tripping getting off his pants.

The moment he looked at you again, the world- the universe, it all went quiet.

You stood naked before him, a soft, perfect little thing, looking like a damn dream.

"babygirl" he could only breathe as you reached him again.

"What?" you laughed

"I-I don't even know"

You shook your head, grinning from ear to ear as he pressed his mouth on yours again.

He was already addicted.

In a haze, you found yourself on the bed, your body caged beneath his, his tongue fighting with yours, his hands all over- You almost had the urge to laugh at how desperate he seemed, how frantically he was touching every inch of you, exploring every piece of skin-

His hands were on your tits, fingers gently playing with your nipples, then on your belly, your waist, your ass, your thighs, until finally, he found your core, but before he had the time to fully reach it you'd switched up with him, straddling his lap as he laid flat on his back... only he couldn't keep away for even a second and he immediately sat up, grabbing your waist.

He couldn't even begin to complain that you'd already grabbed his cock, positioning it at your entrance.

You couldn't wait anymore- you needed him now.

"Wait-" he murmured, his breathing labored already "you sure you're... y'know ready?"

Oh my god, you swore you were gonna fall for him if he kept this shit up.

"Joel" you smiled, looking into his big brown eyes "I've been wet since you fixed the cabinet"

"I-" he blushed "You-you sure?"

You didn't answer him, you simply took one of his hands in yours and guided him to feel just how much you were telling the truth.

"Fuck"

"yeah" you smirked "that's just what you do to me, Mr. Miller"

Jesus fuck

Joel didn't think his cock had ever been so hard.

You didn't give him time to do or say anything- he'd gathered that's how you did things by now- as you slowly, oh so very slowly, started sinking onto him.

He was big, the kind of big you'd be feeling tomorrow morning. The stretch hurt just right, so overwhelmed by the unadulterated pleasure that it was barely there.

Soft little moaned gasps spilled from your lips with every inch added, your eyes were closed, only focusing on the extraordinary feeling as your nails clawed at Joel's chest.

Until, finally- you'd done it. You were fully sat on his cock, and while your eyelids fluttered open, you regained your ability to hear- to hear the curses leaving Joel's mouth between ragged breaths

"Jesus Christ- Jesus fucking Christ- Goddamnit"

His grip on your waist was so tight you were sure it was gonna leave a bruise... not that you were complaining.

"you ok?"

His eyes were shut close and creases of effort filled his forehead, while his chest went up and down as he desperately tried to breathe.

"Joel?"

He swallowed tightly, now breathing in through his nose before exhaling from his mouth.

"d-don't move"

You smiled as you promised "I won't"

God this was fucking embarrassing.

He'd spent three days training.

And yes he wasn't sure he would have said yes, but still, better safe than sorry- except for the fact it clearly hadn't worked.

He had spent three days fucking his own fist and trying to last as much as possible and he did do progress... but this... this was fucking nothing like what he'd felt in the last twenty years.

He was so fucked

"I-I'm sorry" he gritted out, sounding almost defeated "I- I haven't done this in a long time darlin'"

"And you... you feel so fuckin' good- fuck"

Your walls had inadvertently squeezed around him at his words, making a groan rumble in his chest.

"You have nothing to apologize for Joel"

he would have told you that your voice was making everything worse if he weren't so preoccupied with trying to calm his dick down.

"take all the time you need"

And so he did, his eyes remained closed as he breathed through the initial shock, until finally, after what felt like an eternity, he was back.

He had to stifle a moan once he opened his eyes back up.

There you were, your beautiful eyes trained on his with such gentleness and care that it made where his gaze fell to feel even more sinful.

Your boobs were barely touching his chest, and yet they could have been in his face for the effect they had on him- his hands were on your waist, holding onto your soft flesh, your thighs were straddling his lap, giving him no choice but to finally look between your bodies, where you two connected.

"Darlin'" he murmured, hypnotized

You smiled, watching him admiring you in silence

"You look..."

Every word that came to mind wasn't enough, you were otherwordly, you were perfection... so he just settled on the simplest, and perhaps truest of them all.

"you're beautiful"

Your cheeks burned with heat as his gaze came back to yours.

"so are you, Joel"

And that was that.

His lips found yours again, and you couldn't stop your hips as they started moving, rocking back and forth and bringing little waves of ecstasy to your core.

A desperate moan spilled from yours to Joel's mouth as he grabbed the back of your head, forcing you into an even deeper kiss as he started following your movements.

Your hands went to the back of his neck, grabbing at the hair at the nape of it as you finally started bouncing on his dick, and god- god it was even better than you could have ever imagined

The loudest growl sounded from his throat as you worked yourself up and down on his shaft.

He was in another universe, his actions were only reflexes as the hand not tangled in your hair found your tits and then your ass, grabbing at it with tenderness and need.

"Oh Joel" you cried, his dick filling you up better than anything ever before.

You could quite literally feel him in your stomach, every little vein and ridge of skin creating a permanent dent inside of you that only he was ever gonna be able to fill.

"sweetheart- fuck" he groaned on his own, your breaths mixing as you ghosted each other's mouths, his eyes raking over your body and face, while yours couldn't help but roll to the back of your head as his manhood hit a particularly good spot.

"You feel so- good Joel" you whimpered mindlessly, now quickening your pace, desperation taking over you completely.

the sound of him entering your drenched core mixed with the bed creaking underneath you as you drove yourself closer and closer to heaven.

The sound of his name falling from your lips was something that filled Joel's chest with an indescribable feeling, he felt on top of the word, and at the same time... at the same time he wished it had never left your mouth because it was now forever imprinted in his brain, and he knew nothing was ever gonna compare to it.

Oh and also- also it was making his little lasting problem real fucking hard to control.

But he was nothing if not a gentleman,

You were gonna come, he wasn't gonna have it any other way.

His hand lowered down your belly as you kept chasing your release, looking like a damn glimpse of paradise, until his thumb found your clit.

"Oh fuck" you moaned, your eyes snapping open to look at him- a dark glaze of lust shading your iris.

Joel realized too late that he hadn't taken into account how fucking tight you'd get, and was now really paying the consequences.

Plus when you looked at him like that... maybe just this one time he could not be a gentleman- I mean it's not like he had much choice, he was trying his hardest but- shit

"darlin'" he mumbled, his thumb circling your bud "w-where do ya- where do ya want it?"

You moaned louder just at the thought of him coming

"Inside"

It wasn't even a question

"N-no sweetheart I-I shouldn-"

"Joel" you interrupted him, your lips grazing his as you talked, your grip on his hair tightening "I want you to fill me up until I can feel you leaking out of me for days"

Good Christ and heaven

"Fuck me" he cursed, all his strength going on not coming right there and then "Darlin' please- tell me you're close"

You were already seeing stars as he spoke

"I'm close, baby- oh fuck" you cried "Joel!"

A tsunami of lust-filled pleasure coursed through your veins as your orgasm hit like a damn truck.

You couldn't even remember your name as you screamed his own into the thick air, as you moaned and cried and spasmed around him, feeling him do exactly what you'd asked- filling you up to the very brim.

He'd started coming the moment you did- he couldn't do anything about it, it was just unadulterated perfection-

His head fell between your neck and shoulders as groaned like a man possessed,

until finally, after a good three minutes, you were both back to the land of the living.

He looked twenty years younger when he looked at you again, and you- you looked like the most beautiful woman on earth.

A soft smile pulled at your lips, and you couldn't help but ask "How long before we can do it again?"

And fuck him, but his age didn't matter, with those eyes of yours, it might very well be minutes.

@kluvspedro @bluebiyou @casssiopeia @bean-is-reading @millerispunk @i-cant-stfu

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eaterofman · 1 year ago

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Yandere Coworker Harem x New Hire Reader: A Meeting with the CEO

Follow up to this post

Finally fed up with it all, you decide to leave... but you learn it may not be that easy.

Content Warnings: General creepiness, yanderes, financial manipulation, manipulation, power difference, gaslighting

AN: Holy shit the first part blew up, more so than any post I've ever made on tumblr... ever. Thank y'all, and I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations? Had to ignore a few asks since they were essentially the plot to this part, haha.

As nice as Jake is... it starts to wear on you. The seclusion from your other coworkers, Warren and Jax's constant attention, it all becomes too much. This was the easiest money you've ever made, but it almost felt... condescending in a way. Seriously, you feel like you haven't actually worked in months, just given simple tasks to complete so that Jax could praise you. Otherwise, you felt like you were just eye candy set in a pretty office. No more, you figure. You make up your mind to go back to HR, it's been a long time coming. They either fix it, or you're gone.

With your mind made up, you return to Leon. He'd been so kind before, surely he'd help, right? As you explain your problems to him, he nods and gently smiles. In your distress, you don't notice his hand moving to cover yours, massaging yours comfortingly. You welcome the comforting sensation, overwhelmed to the point of not really considering the implications. You look into his dark eyes as you finish, silently pleading with him for help.

"That really is something. I'm sorry to hear your experience with the company has been so distressing. Tell me, do you have any proof?"

His demeanor seems to shift instantly back to the colder man you remember from your first sight of him. His fingers rubbing gentle circles into your palm shift into a harsher grip.

"Proof? I-I mean, the cameras have probably caught something?"

You'd say there were eyewitnesses, but all of your other coworkers had been avoiding you. You barely even knew their names...

"Unfortunately, our cameras have been malfunctioning lately, I doubt they'd catch anything. Without any actual witnesses, I'm afraid I can't do anything for you."

"How can you say that without even looking? This place is insane- you know what? I'm just quitting. I can't take this anymore."

You try to remove your hand but he keeps it there. His gaze is suddenly ice cold. He lets your hand go after a few moments of tension, fingers lingering before you yank your hand to your chest.

"Ah, you could quit... but I'd really recommend against it. You'd of course have to pay the dues you signed in your contract, as well as any additional fees. I'm not in charge of finances, but my estimate would be somewhere around... 200 thousand or so?"

You gasp, blood running cold. 200 thousand?! You don't remember signing that, but you also don't recall really reading over the contract in your excitement. You try to think of a way out, surely there had to be some sort of loophole-

"Of course, there's always the option of asking the CEO to change your contract, but..."

You'd tuned anything after that out, insisting to meet with the CEO as soon as possible. Which, to your surprise, was almost immediately. Almost like he'd been... waiting for you? Leon himself lead you to the CEO's room, at the very top of the skyscraper your office resided in. As you're let in, you're met with the biggest office you'd ever seen. It composed of the entire top floor of the skyscraper, massive windows encircling the entire ornate office.

You really try to ignore the feeling that you're walking into a trap.

The CEO was patiently waiting for you. Like a king on a throne, he sat in the middle of the room in front of a surprisingly simple desk. You'd heard of the CEO, Kennedy Grey, but you'd never met him in person before. He had an air of sophistication around him, an older gentlemen with salt and pepper hair and a well trimmed beard. His suit was pristine and looked expensive, probably costing more than your entire yearly salary. He smiled, urging the two of you to sit. His eyes glanced over to Leon's, a slight smirk on his face as if the two were in on a joke you weren't.

"So, what brings you two here? I've heard very good things about you from Jax. Things are going well, I presume?"

You fidget, despite his welcoming tone, he felt oddly... menacing. Like you weren't supposed to disagree with him, even if he asked you a question. You begin to explain your issues, but are quickly stopped with a firm look of disapproval when you bring up the idea of leaving the company.

"Now now, we can't have that, can we? With your contract, that wouldn't be a very smart idea, would it?"

Before you can even respond, he simply continues to talk over you.

"No, no it wouldn't. And you've just been such a good worker, we'd just hate to lose you."

"Well, I was actually hoping we could talk about the contract, I just don't think it's fair-" you can barely get your thoughts out as he cuts you off again.

"Unfair? But my dear, you signed it. I'd just hate to get my lawyers involved... they're top of the line, y'know? Besides, you don't actually want to leave, you're just... stressed. What do you need, a paid week off? A bonus for your hard work?"

"No-"

"Well, now that that's done, let's get back to work, shall we? You'll have a bonus on your next pay-"

You've had enough of his condescension and interruptions, it's time for you to interrupt him.

"You know what, I'll take the lawsuit. You people are insane. You can have the money if you want, but I'm out of here."

As you get up, you find you can't. Leon has moved behind you, surprisingly strong arms holding your chair in, preventing you from moving. You look up at him in angered confusion, but he's sharing a look with Kennedy. You once again feel like you're missing an important part of an inside joke again. You try to struggle, but you're stopped as Kennedy interrupts.

"Apartment 101, Evergreen Apartments, right?"

"W-wha-"

"You know, I've been venturing into the rental market recently. Very profitable at the moment. I actually just bought a few buildings in your area, including your little apartment. Such a shame, you know you could do better, right? All you have to do is ask..."

He smiles at you as if this was a normal conversation to him, like he was doing you a favor.

"I guess that makes me your landlord now, if you think about it!" his smile turns colder, eyes crinkling like he's laughing at you, "That being said, I just don't see how you're going to pay for the rent increase without this job. I hate to do it, but it's a necessity, y'know? Cost of living and such."

He waves his hand like it's no big deal, like he isn't playing with your livelihood and threatening you.

"You could move out, of course, but well, word gets around, and I just don't know how the other investors in the area would react to your... history."

You feel dread well up in the pit of your stomach and tears in your eyes. He... has you. What could you even do? Moving out of the city would mean starting over, and that's if you could even find a place and a job to pay for said place, and paying for the lawsuit-

In your panic, you can only whimper, "I just... why? Why me? i don't understand-"

"That's the beauty of it all, you don't have to. All you have to worry about is coming in and doing your job. We'll handle all the rest."

You jump, having almost forgotten Leon was behind you in your panic. You go to open your mouth-

"Wonderful insight, Leon. Now that we're all on the same foot, let's get back to work, shall we?"

You can only numbly nod your head, too overwhelmed to continue fighting.

You're finally allowed to sit up and begin walking towards the door, trying to speed walk out of the huge room that somehow managed to feel claustrophobic. You just wanted out at this point, you needed somewhere to think.

As you step into the elevator, Leon staying behind in the office-thank god-you're interrupted one final time.

"Oh, and I meant what I said. If you ever need any assistance, anything at all, just come to me. All you have to do is ask."

#yandere x reader #yandere harem #yandere boss #yandere coworkers #reader insert #reader #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines

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your-nanas-house · 9 months ago

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"Mr. Coleman said that..."

◇ Pairing: stepdad!Austin Butler X stepdaughter!Reader

◇ Warnings: kind of dark, SMUT, sessions, therapy (invented by me, dunno if it exists), pervy, stepdad x stepdaughter dynamic.

◇ Summary: Austin gets bit lost in the feelings that the "bond" therapy gifted him.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. It took me so long, thanks for the kind anon that reminded me what Austin fic I wanted to publish. I think it's the very first Austin fic that I wrote... 🫣. For other fics like this.

A small click and the front door of his attic was open, allowing him to enter and finally drop down the bag he carried all day around... plus the new script.

Austin had been out all day and he honestly felt all those hours on his shoulders other than his mood. He really was tired but happy, since he was about to see his little princess.

As his feet lead him to the open kitchen he could already hear her soft humming, which informed him that she was busy entertain herself with something

"Hi stepdaddy, how was your day?" Her sweet voice beamed after his footsteps popped her little bubble of calm. She didn't look upset or annoyed when seeing him... which was a good thing since they had some issues when her mom left them both.

Issues that with a bit of father and daughter therapy should had quickly disappear... or so the man, who was following the process, had told them the first meeting.

"Bit tiring but... it was good. How about yours? What did you do while I was out?" Austin's low raspy voice asked as his hand removed carefully his AirPods before his coat so that he could focus his attention on her completely.

She was still in her cute pajamas, a silly one that she had begged him to buy her as soon as she finished watching one of the latest movies of his... 'Elvis' 2022. Reason because her pants were of a baby pink filled with pictures of the king, matched by a baggy shirt with the quote 'Keep Calm and Love Elvis Presley'.

"Bit boring, studied a bit... and nothing much, I cleaned the house though" Y/n informed him after taking a big sip of her tea, humming softly when the older man's arms wrapped around her torso.. hugging her close to himself.

"So sweet of you" he murmured in her ear, tickling her with his short beard as his face snuggled in the crock of her neck more so to make her chuckle before pressing his lips against hers for a quick 'hello' kiss.

His head now resting on top of hers calmly.

"Also!.. I need your help" Y/n hummed out, putting down her cup as her heart beat faster in her chest.. butterflies forming in her stomach at her stepdad's cuddles.

She could already feel his chest vibrating softly as he replied with his voice which became even more lower that it used to be due to the time and work.

"With what, kid?" His big hand ruffled her hair playfully while his body moved to rest against the table of the kitchen so that his beautiful eyes could stare at her as she talked.

She really was so cute like that, her hair bit messy because of him and the glasses she put on just when she used her laptop so to protect them. It seemed quite domestic... bit too domestic since his body started to react a bit, aroused by the innocent scenario.

And the cute mad face she made every time he would tease or annoy her, was so cute but also such a strong turn on for him... expecially those pouty pretty lips, now covered by a watermelon lip gloss.

"Do you remember what Mr. Coleman suggested?" Y/n asked casually, glancing at him with the face he grow to know as 'the testing face'; a serious but funny expression that she always used when she wanted to see if he remembered something or if he forgot about it.

"Of what, sweetheart?" Austin replied with her same tone as he put down the script, pouring himself a glass of water before sitting on the counter to look in her direction. She was giving him her back but he could already see the pouty face accompanied by a small snort of disappointment since he didn't remember.

"The bonding exercises, Baba!" She whined out, looking at him while scoffing softly at his amused expression. He really knew her too well.

"Of course I remember, baby" Austin lied as he placed his glass on the surface so he wouldn't look her in the eyes without distractions

"He said at least once a week, two is better though..." she repeated what their therapist said to them some weeks ago, her eyes looking at him lazily bit tired of her lonesome day. Even too tired to notice his stare taking her whole in shamefully.

"You know that I'm always free to spend some quality time with you, baby" he rasped out before clearing his throat and finish his water, his body warming up at the mere view of her cute behaviour.

"That's a lie but anyway... Let's start it, hm" the young woman murmured, pecking back as soon as he leaned down to steal a bit of love while picking her up easily and move them on the sofa in the living room where there was more space.

"What were the exercises again?" Austin asked, his hands rubbing soft circles on her hips while his eyes pierced intensely in hers the whole time she explained to him "The 5 senses exercises to feel more connected. Touch.. with the yoga, hearing.. by listening and talking, taste.. by eating together, and.. view.. the stare".

Those were all topics they had to go through in their therapist's opinion.. a way to bond with each other better and share some quality moments as father... even though he wasn't her real dad, and daughter.

"I remember perfectly now... and what was the last one?" He asked while playing with a lock of her hair, smiling slightly when her index finger pressed against his nose while talking "It's the smell... we have to take in our scent... and that should be all. So!... where do we start?" The young woman beamed, getting up from his lap.

The older man really enjoyed seeing her so full of energy and joy, it was addicting.

"Okay, little one, let's start. You can choose with which one we begin".

Her choose was quickly and he found himself warming slightly up to start the first step. The Touch.. aka Yoga exercises.

Simple but helpful positions they had to do together to feel the struggles and the moving of their bodies.

"Need to change! Mr. Coleman said that we have to be as bare as possible for this one." The young woman reminded the older man from the other room, busy changing into something to start the exercise and have yoga behind so they could relax.

He said that?, Austin questioned in his mind and raised his eyebrows... he really didn't listen so much when that man spoke with them. He clearly needed to stay more focused in the next sessions.

"You need to change as well!" Her sweet voice urged him as she was now standing in front of him in the set of underwear he gifted her that Christmas. Matching bra and panties which colors were identical to her favourite bun that she had used to tie her hair up.

"Sweet baby Jesus above, you are stunning" he commented, holding himself from just cursing in front of her since he scolded her more than once when some bad words left her pretty mouth. It had became a game of theirs just saying some silly things instead of vulgar language.

"It's the set you gave me!" She informed him with a smile, her hands busy fixing her hair happy and warm to start

"I know, little one" the actor murmured while still staring, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

His body was reacting bit too much for his liking and he started to sweat a bit so he decided to get quickly ready and just move his hands to pull off his shirt and threw it away, exposing his built body to the air so that they could begin with the yoga.

Y/n was the first to lead and help, her smaller frame kept doing her best to keep up and help Austin while ending up most of the time just clinging on him like a koala or bouncing to reach his hands.. way too high for her reach.

It was funny, adorable and relaxing... till the sensations changed when he was the one leading the exercise.

"Baba! You have to follow my body" Y/n explained in a whiny playful voice as her young body bent down in front of him, her ass brushing against his crotch and then pressing lovingly when he moved on her, hugging her hips with his strong arms.

Fucking hot, he thought now that his cock overpowered his brain.

His breath became bit heavier while his hands massaged her flesh, he could have stayed like that all day... with his boner pressed between her firm and round ass cheeks still barely covered by those damn panties.

"Ready for the rhythm? Remember sync to let our bodies connect" she parrot what Mr. Coleman told them, making Austin curse internally since he had forgot about the movements... not that he minded though, since his worries disappeared as soon as her ass hit his half-hard dick.

His hips started to follow, taking the lead unconsciously, grinding his clothed cock against her soft flesh shamelessly.

"You got your phone in your pocket, Baba?" Y/n asked after a while, glancing behind to check on him, yelping softly when he moves her head easily by her chin. Making her look back ahead.

"Mhhm... focus, little one. Sync, remember?" Austin rasped out as his hips increased their rhythm, making her loose the balance she had and end up flat against the floor with him on top.

Her heart was beating fast and she couldn't deny that her panties were getting wet by his movements... she wasn't sure it was part of the exercises but who was her to correct her stepdad.

"You're doing so good, baby. So good" his low voice praised, making her maintain the rhythm and match his when his hips increased the tempo as his big hand, which was on her tummy, helped her continue it.

It was starting to get tired, her breath becoming breathless as she heard him grunting next to her ear.

"Austin, I'm not sure this is part of Mr. Coleman's exercises—" Y/n weakly spoke, letting a broken whine escape her mouth when his little finger pressed roughly against her clothed clit

"It's all part of Mr. Coleman's exercises to bond, baby. And call me like he said you should.. don't you want to make the sessions pay off?" Austin murmured huskily, inhaling deeply while lowering quickly his sweatpants and press his bare, rock-hard angry cock against her ass again, pulling the fabric of her panties so that it was stuck between her ass cheeks like his lenght.

"I said call me like Mr. Coleman said, little one" his tone became more stern as his hand spanked her soft flesh making her jolt

"Sorry, daddy! Sorry" she whined out, moving her ass up so to allow him to continue without interruptions... just like a good girl.

It was twisted but felt so good, so... damn good, with the soft skin of his cock caressing her inner thighs as he made sure to keep them closed so that he could fuck them. Hitting her clit with each thrust.

Her stepdad was dry humping her and she was loving it as much as he was... and she could tell that he was enjoying himself pretty much due to all the noises and praises that escaped his lips.

"Such a good girl! Fuck— fuck, fuck. Little one!" His horsed voice growled in her ear as his body shook against hers before something started to wet her thighs and panties. The young woman didn't had time to check before her own orgasm hit her whole and her back arched, a soft curse, which earned her a harsh spank, escaped her innocent sweet mouth.

"Language, baby... now how about we move to the food now, hm?" Austin suggested while massaging her warm flesh, moving his softening cock away from her shaking thighs.

#austin butler fandom #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler smut #austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #austin butler fluff #austin butler imagine

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thesummerestsolstice · 7 months ago

Text

I like the idea that the Valar can grant boons to men or elves they favor. Sometimes visible– glowing markings, feathers, claws– and sometimes not. Attitudes of these blessings ranged from fear to reverence to jealousy, often reflecting opinions of the Valar more generally.

Galadriel's special treelight hair came from Finarfin. Finarfin got it as a result of Manwe's favor. Given how rare it was for Manwe to bestow such gifts, this caused quite a stir. Later, Morgoth would spread rumors that Manwe was trying to set Finarfin up as the new Noldor crown prince, bypassing Finwe's older children.

Namo gave Fingolfin a blessing, and no one was particularly sure why, Fingolfin included. The truth was that Namo had already foreseen Fingolfin's death, and wanted to give him the strength to let him wound Morgoth before falling to him. Namo has always felt a sense of responsibility for those who choose to come to his halls, even if he's powerless to change their fates.

Celegorm was blessed by Orome, given the kind of teeth and claws that a few of his best disciples had been granted over the years. Orome couldn't take those gifts back, so Celegorm kept them for all his life. You wouldn't know that looking at paintings of him, though, because none of them show him with the marks of Orome's hunt. Whether this was a choice made by him or by later revisionists trying to minimize his connection with the Valar is unknown.

Varda gave blessings to both Earendil and Gil-Galad in the final years of the First Age. Both of them are said to have shone like stars afterwards, and there were some darker rumors that like the hallowed Silmarils, they would burn any unholy flesh that touched them. Some speculated that the blessings were Varda's way of apologizing for leaving the elves to face Morgoth alone for so long.

Ulmo is probably the Vala who's given out the most blessings– Cirdan, Turgon, Finrod, and Tuor all recieved boons from him, among others. But everyone who's gotten blessings from Ulmo is weirdly secretive about it. There's lots of gossip floating around– Ulmo is the reason Cirdan has a beard, Ulmo is the reason Turgon is taller than Maedhros, Ulmo is the reason that everyone likes Finrod so much, actually everyone blessed by Ulmo gets gills and he has secret underwater meetings with them– you get the idea. Well, probably no reason to consider that last one. I can't imagine any of the Valar using their power for something that foolish.

There is fierce scholarly debate on whether Thingol received a blessing from Melian, and whether her descendants could, theoretically, do the same. Elrond would like everyone to please stop asking him about it. Elrond would also like everyone to please stop talking about Gil-Galad's hair turning silver after the two of them took a very normal hunting trip together.

(Multiple Valar have tried to take credit for just how amazingly luscious and wonderful Finwe's hair is. But no, that wasn't a blessing. He's just like that.)

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alexiroflife · 6 months ago

Text

when a religious group member crosses the line…

fluff, violence

🌙🌙🌙

it’s no unknown secret that geto suguru can not stand the non-sorcerer members of his cult. the moment they step out of his vicinity after having made incredibly generous donations toward his services, his feigned polite smile is falling and his nose is curling in disgust. he can’t stand how they grovel, how they beg, how they cling to him because they’re weak. they’re so greedy, so pathetic, so disgusting

when new members of his group enter the picture, suguru has to proceed to muster up the strength to pretend to enjoy helping them, which he is incredibly skilled at doing. in the midst of his theatrics, however, there tends to be crucial information that slips through the cracks of what all members should be, and normally are, aware of

you are suguru’s everything, and everyone within his cult who has a damn brain knows it. he showcases you like a trophy, letting you cling to his arm or sit on his lap when he is lecturing his members, ensuring that every one of them can see the way his fingers curl over your waist, the way your lips come to meet his cheek, the way you are unmistakably his and his alone

unfortunately, however, newer members of the cult may not always be aware of your relationship, and their innate greed for more than what suguru’s generous services already offer rouses… issues

suguru is holding a formal fundraising event for his cult one evening and he’s a bit agitated. you’re on suguru’s arm wearing a dark purple gown as he greets people, welcoming them and buttering up the wealthy classes. his hand is snug around you, keeping you close as if to protect you from the pigs swarming the center. he doesn’t like that they’re so close to you, but he feels you’re safer when you’re by his side at all times

the moment he is left alone, his facade vanishes as he turns to you, looking over you with apologetic lustful eyes.

“i’m sorry, sweetness. it won’t be much longer i promise,” he kisses your temple, smoothing his fingers over your back.

you smile. “it’s okay, sugu. i don’t mind waiting. i know tonight is important.”

“not as important as taking you home and away from all these damn people,” he presses his lips to your ear, holding you close. “you look so beautiful tonight. i can’t handle much more of this.”

suguru is already on edge because he is so hyper aware of everyone sneaking glances at you, whether they are trying to be discreet or not. he knows you are gorgeous, sickeningly so, but he also knows that his cult members have a tendency to demand, to overstep. he knows that none of them are dumb enough to look at you for longer than half a second, but he’s close to imploding if he doesn’t get you out of here soon

manami approaches your boyfriend momentarily to inform him that an important client desires to speak with him on their way out of the door. with a sigh, suguru reluctantly pulls away from you and tells you he will be right back. his eyes are everywhere when he parts from you with manami, curses lurking behind curtains to keep a sharp gaze on you in case something happens

you head over to the buffet bar while you wait. your boyfriend has been away for no longer than five minutes and you’re looking over the selection to keep to yourself when you feel someone’s presence behind you.

“can i get you something to drink, darling?”

you turn around with furrowed brows, curious as to who within this event would dare to speak to you in such a way, to find an older suited man with a heavy beard and a golden-plated smile. you recognize him as the new member that suguru was ranting to you about just last week, when he first joined

“excuse me?” you ask bitterly, slimming your eyes. you look down and see one of suguru’s curses creeping under the table, slinking an arm around your ankle protectively. the man does not notice of course, and apparently, neither did he notice you gluing yourself to suguru the entire night. he’s as clueless as he is inebriated, and he hasn’t been around long enough to have seen the two of you together in any other setting

“i hate to see a precious little thing like you here alone. how about i keep you some company?”

you’re tempted to tell him who you are right then and there, but why make things easy for him? he was dead the second he approached you, and new members like him should be more mindful of the things around them after promising to devote their loyalties to master geto

“i’m not interested,” you tell him coldly, and when you turn to walk away, his hand reaches for your wrist. the curse around your ankle tightens and your eyes widen.

“come on, honey, don’t be like that”

the room stiffens as eyes stare in awe, the lively chatter dwindling down when the scene before them registers. frightened whispers rouse, the hiss of hidden curses lift, heads turn over to locate the cult leader, and you watch with a knowing smile creep to your lips

suddenly, it’s silent. slow, isolated footsteps echo and tap against the floor as they approach. within seconds, suguru’s figure is towering behind the man before you with a red glint in his eye and half of his face shadowed in murderous darkness. the man takes a second too long to register his presence, his hand still on your wrist. when he finally turns, he jumps, and suguru’s generous mask is nowhere to be found. instead, a cool rage takes his expression

“geto! it’s nice to see you, i haven’t gotten the chance to speak with you yet tonight”

oh, the nerve this imbecile has. suguru is blind with simmering fury as his eyes dart to your wrist. he inhales slowly, chest rising beneath his dark blazer. the man grows increasingly nervous under suguru’s gaze, confused, wondering what is happening

“(y/n),” suguru calls you. “come here”

you feel the curse around you slip away and the man before you loosen his grip in slow realization. you yank your hand away with a sweet smile, pushing past the man to sink into suguru’s open arm for you.

“did he hurt you, pretty girl?” he turns to question you softly

“no, suguru, just grabbed me pretty tight”

his eyes flicker with something dangerous. “i see. i’ll take care of it, okay? then we’re going home so i can take care of you. i'm sick of this night already, aren't you?" you nod, leaning into him when he ducks to press a kiss to your cheek

the man before you visibly reels. “o-oh! shit, geto, is she...? i had no idea-“

“everyone!” suguru is quick to snatch up the man by the back of his neck, cutting him off and pushing him forward harshly, tightening his deadly grip. the man chokes, pupils shrunken with shock and terror. suguru pushes you back slightly to keep you safe behind him. the remaining members watch, horrified, far more familiar with geto’s behaviors than this idiot seemingly is

to mess with his money is to be punished, perhaps even killed, but to dare to mess with you is to be slaughtered

“let this be a lesson to you all. no, a reminder, if you will, because it seems some of you must have forgotten,” suguru smiles. curses leap from their hiding and scatter before the bearded man’s feet, tugging and grabbing at his now dangling legs as suguru holds him into the arm. he thrashes, snot bubbling from his nose in fear

“do not ever lay a filthy hand on my girl. if i catch any one of you staring, speaking, or even thinking about touching her ever again-“

a vile crack resounds within the space as suguru crushes his hand into the man’s throat. he strangles and chokes, writhing about as the curses below jump to devour him. his screams of agony burst out as they tear him limb from limb, ripping apart his flesh and splattering blood over the floor. the members watch in a nauseating sweat, gasping, attempting to conceal their shock of watching a man get seemingly torn apart by the air

suguru drops the twitching corpse to the ground with a resounding splatter once he is dead, his curses rushing to gobble the remains. the dark-haired cult leader smiles kindly and closes his eyes

“-this will be you. do i make myself clear?” he is greeted with silence. “i said do I make myself clear?”

“yes, master geto,” the crowd erupts in eerie unison.

he nods, satisfied. “good. now, you may all take your leave. the evening has come to an end”

the room clears impressively fast, and suguru exhales loudly before turning to you. you’re quick to move into him, pressing your chest to his to thumb away the blood on his chin. you both ignore the mess behind you as manami finds arrangements in the background to clean it up

“i hate these fucking things. i hate these fucking people,” suguru curses, melting his arms around you and holding you close. “i can’t believe some filthy non-sorcerer actually fucking touched you. shit, (y/n), i’m sorry i stepped away. i should’ve just taken you with me. one of my curses came to me as soon as it happened”

“calm down, it’s never been your fault these members are so dumb,” you tell him, holding his face as he looks at you lovingly. “you work so hard for them, baby, and they don’t give you the respect you deserve”

“no, the respect you deserve,” he corrects. “i’m never bringing you to these things ever again. i’m keeping you all to myself from now on. I shouldn’t have even let any of them see you in the first place”

“i wouldn’t have it any other way, sugu. i’ve always been all yours and always will be. y’always keep me safe”

he smiles warmly down at you and leans in to press soft kisses over your face. “fuck, i love you. let’s go. need to take some time loving on you”

yes, suguru’s cult members are greedy. the more he gives to them, the more they try to take from him. they’re obnoxious, vile, arrogant bastards with no sense to guide them aside from geto’s leadership

to be greedy for you, however- his rock, his flame, his life, is to drop to his knees and practically beg for a gruesome death

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evansbby · 1 year ago

Text

another sugar daddy Ari 🫣🥵✨✨

18+ minors dni, daddy kink, age gap, smut

Ari wasn’t a conventional sugar daddy by any means. Well, what was a conventional sugar daddy, anyways? You wouldn’t know, because this was the first time you’d ever been in an arrangement like this. You didn’t know what you expected when you signed the contract. But it’s not like you were complaining…

You weren’t complaining when he made you sit on his lap while he kissed you everywhere. Slowly, sensually, petting you like you were his little toy, while he asked you questions about your life.

“Are you enjoying college?” While he sucked on your neck.

“Tell me about your parents, how are they doing?” While he peppered kisses along your jaw.

“What extra-curriculars are you taking this semester?” As he kissed your cheek and cooed at you.

You’d tell him, being as animated as possible because he seemed to like how chatty you were. And he’d play with your hair and caress you everywhere and put his hands up your skirt or play with your bra strap. It was like you were a delectable meal that he was playing with, and he enjoyed teasing himself almost as much as he enjoyed teasing you.

“Baby, you didn’t spend any of your allowance this week.” Ari inquires one day, frowning as he enters your apartment. Well, the luxury penthouse apartment he was paying for, but he liked to call it yours and you liked having a place of your own so you never corrected him. Not that he’d appreciate you correcting him on anything anyways. Men and their egos…

You shrug, sitting up on the couch where you’d been waiting for him. He’d texted you earlier informing you that he’d cleared his schedule to meet you for lunch. And of course, you assumed lunch was code for sex, which was why you were clad in only a pretty pink lingerie set with silky ribbons and bows, along with a pair of pink high heels which Ari already couldn’t take his eyes off of.

“Sorry, daddy, I just didn’t feel like shopping.”

You cross and uncross your legs, looking up at him and biting your lip. How can you tell your sugar daddy that there’s only so many new dress, shoes or purses you can purchase in a week?

Ari huffs, “I’m gonna have to start punishing you if you don’t spend your weekly allowance, sweetheart.”

But he’s already unbuckling his belt, which makes lick your lips excitably. You’d only been in this arrangement with him for a month and a half, but he’d already got you addicted to his dick. And his mouth. His tongue. His hands…

Ari was so different from the college boys you were used to. Not only was he older, mature, experienced in how to please women, but he was also just… so rugged. And tough. Rough around the edges, so to speak. With his mane of long hair, his bristly beard and wild eyes, he was incredibly virile, handsome, and quite frankly, every girl’s wet dream.

In his 40s, he was now the big CEO hotshot of some huge company. But he’d worked for the government when he was younger, going out on international missions and doing all that dangerous, top secret stuff. But that was all he ever told you about that, and yet you could see it on his face, everything he’d been through and the things he’d seen.

He was hot-headed, impulsive and he took what he wanted when he wanted it. You weren’t complaining, because it made for some fantastic, mind-blowing sex.

Like when he’d taken you out to dinner but midway through the meal he’d decided he’d rather devour you instead, and so he’d pulled you into his lap right there and fucked you gently while he fed you pieces of steak. Luckily, the two of you were in a corner booth. Unluckily, most of the wait-staff had seen, but Ari left them a hefty tip to make sure they never mentioned it again.

Or the time he’d come to pick you up from campus, only to see you talking to one of the boys from your history class. That was the day you’d found out how jealous Ari Levinson was capable of being. He’d slung you over his lap and spanked your ass raw for the better part of the journey home. His limo driver had drawn the partition, and you’d cried until your daddy pulled you upright, kissed your face and told you it way okay.

Or, the time you’d forgot to call him daddy during sex once, which was very much against the rules. Ari wanted you to call him daddy and nothing else when inside the bedroom. Which was why he’d tied you up and aggressively licked your cunt till your legs were shaking and you were on the brink of passing out, and the only word you were able to utter was “daddy.”

Back in the present, Ari allows his pants to drop to the floor along with his boxers, and he gives you a meaningful look.

“Daddy’s had a long day and wants you to suck his dick, sweetheart.”

You sink down to your knees, trying to be sexy about it and you know he appreciates that. You love how he can’t take his eyes off your body, how the lingerie hugs your curves and pushes your breasts up. How tantalising your cleavage looks, especially with you on your knees in front of him. You know Ari loves your body, and loves buying you pretty, revealing things so he can show you off to all his friends and colleagues.

You grab hold of his big dick, throat already hurting at the thought of having that inside your mouth. You loved his dick because it was pretty and brought you so much pleasure, but it was also so insanely big, and Ari loved to make you choke on it. Which happened every time you gave him a blowjob because you still weren’t used to his size, and he preferred you taking all of it in till you couldn’t breathe. You knew he loved it when you couldn’t breathe, when his enormous dick was suffocating you…

“And then after you do that, you’re going to sit on my lap and scroll through my phone till you’ve found some nice things to spend your allowance on. Got that, gorgeous?”

You nod submissively, and Ari smirks. He’s still got his belt in his hand and he loops it around your neck, tightening it till it’s incredibly snug. And just being there, by his feet with a makeshift leash around your neck gets you wetter than it should.

“Such a good little girl,” Ari grunts, grabbing a fistful of your hair as you take his cock into your mouth. Giving Ari a blowjob is always a messy affair, and soon enough, he’s thrusting in and out of your mouth at top speed, muttering profanities while he orders you to keep your eyes on his.

He rubs his dick all over your face, smearing your cheeks and nose with his precum and your own spit. He slaps you across the face with his cock, chuckling breathlessly when you pout because he knows how wet it gets you. And he grabs your hair, pushing you down till your deep-throating him, your nose pressed against his pelvis till you can’t breathe and you begin to flail your limbs.

But his belt around your neck keeps you in place, as does his constant praises “What a good little girl,” “daddy loves how well you take my dick,” “you’re so good for me, baby. So sexy and cute when you’ve got my dick down your throat.”

He cums on your face and doesn’t let you clean it off. He tells you that you look beautiful like this, and then, true to his word, sits you down on his lap and hands you his phone. You scroll through one expensive brand website after another, all while he plays with your lingerie, petting and kissing you how he loves to, and telling you how sexy you are with his cum on your face.

“Sweetheart, if it was up to me, I’d have you in nothing except covered in diamonds, and my cum on your face.”

He immediately orders you an expensive pair of diamond earrings from Cartier (as if you haven’t already got two whole jewellery boxes full of diamonds and pearls and sapphire and what not — all from Ari of course). And then he insists that the earrings were his gift to you, and that you still need to spend your allowance.

After a lot of pouting and grumbling, and some reprimanding smacks to your bottom later, you’ve let him buy you two Chanel handbags, a dress from Versace’s newest Resort collection (not even in stores yet, but Ari had his connections), as well as five new pairs of shoes (all high heels, of course).

“Now was that so hard, baby?”

“I guess not. But I’m gonna run out of space soon, with all the things you keep buying me.”

Ari scoffs, “I have another apartment in the upper east side. You can use it as your shoe closet.”

“You’re really into the heels, aren’t you, daddy?” You tease, twirling your bare legs in the air, your heels catching the light and you feel Ari getting hard again. He grabs your ankle suddenly, pressing kisses up your calf while you gasp and squirm in his lap. His bonded digs at your ass and his hands fondle you everywhere, tugging at your lingerie before he abruptly stops himself.

“Baby, go wait for me inside the bedroom. Everything off except the shoes. And lie on the bed for me with your legs spread out.”

You raise an eyebrow, “That’s awfully specific, daddy—OW!”

He smacks your ass four times in quick succession.

“Go. Now. I’ve got the rest of the day off and daddy plans to fuck your little pussy till I’ve had my fill. Which won’t be any time soon, so take a couple of bottles of water with you too.”

***

JSJDSJSKSKSK THE END IDK I AM IN SYCH A SUGAR DADDY ARI MOOD BYE.

#sugar daddy Ari #Ari levinson #ari levison x reader #Steve rogers #Chris evans #chris evans fanfiction

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bigification · 8 months ago

Text

American Tourist

I sit near the start of the hike, waiting for my tour guide. It takes a while, but finally an older man comes out of a small hut and greets me.

"Hello, are you Markus?" The man asks.

"Yes, I'm here for the tour." I reply, getting up to shake his hand.

"Well let's get started." He says as he leads to the head of the trail.

The tour starts fairly normal. The man just points out small things along the trail like plants and wildlife. But he started to sprinkle in some small talk as well.

"It is not often we have Americans come on this tour." The man says.

The comment confuses me, as I'm from London and have a very obviously non American accent.

"Oh I'm from London, not America." I correct him.

"I must be confused, the big men like you tend to be from America." He replies.

I take it as a compliment, that he's calling me strong, but it still strikes me as odd.

"It must be cold back in America, for you to be wearing shorts and a button up in this weather." The man continues.

Again with the 'America' stuff, I don't know why he keeps insisting on this. Also I'm wearing a t shirt and jeans, I don't know why he said that. But I'm shocked when I look down and see that in wearing khaki shorts and a blue button up. I could have sworn I was wearing jeans, but I guess I was wrong.

"Ya, it is..." I just lead the man along, hoping he'll let it go.

"I hope you brought some sunscreen. Americans with light complexion like you tend to burn easily." He continues.

I don't know what he's on about this time, I literally have darker skin than him. And it's definitely not sunny enough today to burn me. I look down at my arms to see if I'm burnt, maybe that's why he made the comment. Though when I look down, I see white skin. What!? My arms, my legs, they're white. I pull out my phone and look at myself in the camera, my face is white and my hair has become straight. I should be more shocked, but the more I think about the more comfortable I am. This is how I've always looked, right?

"I'm shocked you're keeping up this well." The tour guide continues.

"What do you mean?" I ask, nearly out of breath. He just complimented how big I was, and now he's questioning my athleticism.

"Well Americans like you tend to think they can do a trail like this, but then have to stop half way through." He says as he slaps my stomach.

What does he mean by Americans like me? And why did he slap my stomach? I look down and see my previously flat stomach grow rounder and rounder. My button up stretches further and further as my stomach grows into a soft beer belly. My solid pecs also soften into a pair of moobs. I even feel my shorts tighten around my ass. I try to rearrange my dick to make my bulge less noticeable, but these shorts are way too small.

"Don't you worry my friend, I did football in college. Don't let this tank fool ya, I'm sure I can keep up just fine." I reply in a thick southern accent, still out of breath. I start to unbutton my shirt, hoping to beat the heat.

"I still don't know how you Americans can grow so much hair, it's like a forest in there." The man questions, pointing at my chest.

I look down at the thick pelt of hair covering my chest as I scratch my thick beard.

"Us American men, we've got plenty of testosterone. Makes us the men we are." I reply in a surprisingly deep voice.

"Look, we've made it to the top. You should be glad, not many people your age make it all the way up." The man congratulates me.

I don't know what he means by that comment, but I'm not that old. Besides I barely broke a sweat, I'm an athlete after all.

#male tf #masculine #fat tf #hairy #reality change #male wg #muscle tf #male transformation #age progression #race change

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zevrra · 3 days ago

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thinking about old man jayce today…how he ages like fine wine UGH he’s got just a little bit of a dad bod going on…his hair and beard have little bits of silver running through it……he’s still gentle like a nice summer breeze and shines brighter than the sun, even in his older age. how he’s probably just as romantic if not more so now in his 40s-50s than he was in his 20s-30s. takes you out for “date night” every week, buys you your favorite flowers, gets you small gifts here and there. writes notes and hides them all over the house, solely for you to find them at random; they always depict how much he loves you and his favorite things about you.

he’s probably far more sappier too!! constantly complimenting you and how beautiful you look even with your growing age. dances with you in the kitchen at 9 pm after he’s had a little too much bourbon to drink but he’s dead asleep by 10. imagining that he’s always either going to be “the sun is up and so am i” type or with his older age he mellows down and curls up into your warmth, begging for 5 more minutes…then you both laze in the comfort of your bed for another two hours. but he’s always the first one up, always brings you your preferred morning drink and insists on breakfast in bed. finds it hilarious when he brings you a single strawberry or half of a banana after promising pancakes (the pancakes are always waiting for you in the table).

is the king of dad jokes. children or no children, he constantly cracks (un)funny dad jokes; claims it “comes with his age”. and he only ever trims his bear, keeps it a little longer after finding out you like it so much (also gives him an excuse not to shave as much anymore).

he still works with metal and making little trinkets on the side but nothing major like he use to. and he 100% crafted and made your wedding ring; probably fixes, polishes, and/or makes you a new ring whenever he wants. has to constantly make it known that you two are together and that you’re his for forever.

#zevrra zevrra!#fluffy zev!!#UGHHHH JUST OLD MAN JAYCE #GROWING OLD WITH HIM #HOW HES PROBABLY SO PRETTY WITH SILVER IN HIS HAIR #UGHHHH #i need him #i need him so bad #arcane #arcane fluff #arcane drabble #arcane thoughts #jayce talis drabble #jayce talis fluff #jayce talis save me jayce talis from arcane #jayce talis #jayce x gn!reader #arcane x reader

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loggiepj · 3 months ago

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To Love A Lannister

chapter 17 | chapter 18

A door softly creaked behind you, the eerie sound making you turn from where you were sitting only to look at the intruder.

Queen Daenerys had typical Valyrian features of silver-gold hair, purple eyes and pale skin. Anyone would be a fool to deny of her beauty. Aside from her slender like figure, what stood out the most was the tough exterior she possessed from her gaze.

One thing was for certain. Your sister looked more Targaryen than you could ever be.

"How's your wound?" Queen Daenerys asked. Missandei was standing behind her with head bowed down.

Forcing out a weak smile her way while massaging your arm, you shrugged. "Pain's barely there anymore, Your Grace."

"Please," she said as she chuckled, moving inside the room then taking a seat beside you on the bed. "You're my sister. . . My only family left. Call me Dany."

"You're my Queen," you declared, the word causing a bitter taste in your mouth. Cersei would always be your Queen. And you'd bleed for her a thousand times if you had to. It sparked a dilemma inside your heart.

"You don't have to prove your loyalty to me," Daenarys said as she stood abruptly, heading towards the window where she could see your dragon Nymeros towering over her children. It was apparent that Nymeros was older and more massive than the Queen's two smallest dragons combined. "We're Targaryen by blood. And the right rulers of the Seven Kingdom. I'm sure nothing could persuade you from that," she paused, "well, not unless you're still devoted to her."

Your gazes met and hers sported a questioning curiosity. You knew she was referring to Cersei and your love affair. Upon knowing Tyrion as her hand when you arrived at Dragonstone just two weeks ago, you believed Daenerys knew more about you than you knew about her. Varys was even one of her counselors. There wasn't a single thing Varys didn't know.

"I'm sure you have heard about what happened in the Capital upon their return," she went on, walking past you as she headed back to the door.

Of course, you had. It was chaos.

Cersei had taken over the throne. It turned out that after her father's death, King Tommen had gone mentally incapable to rule the Kingdom, rendering him bed ridden and mute. You pitied the boy so much but who wouldn't go crazy if your own wife would leave you just like that.

But you couldn't blame Margaery either when she went ballistic upon finding out her grandmother Lady Olenna was assassinated by Ser Jaime himself. It appeared that the Lannisters had finally found out she was the culprit behind late King Joffrey's murder.

They had also taken captive those from Dorne who attempted to execute Princess Myrcella, including Oberyn and your guardian father.

If you had to be honest, you felt a bit hurt that Cersei was now ruling with the support of Prince Doran, your real father, by her side, considering what he did and did not do to claim you as his child.

"People like them have no heart to rule Westeros," Daenerys continued, bringing you back to the present. "It will never change. . . All we have now is each other."

~~~

"I thought I'd never get to see you again," you said, greeting Tyrion as he climbed down a boat along the shores of Dragonstone. There were a group of men following his stead, and a couple of others still on their boats.

"I still have luck on my side, My Lady," he replied, looking at the sky where anyone could see four dragons flying around the castle. "It's a nice addition to the group, you know. If I had known sooner you're more than just a viper from the South, I would have served you well."

A forced cough made you look at the strangers. There was a different kind of aura coming from the burly man with a beard looking at you as if you knew each other.

"Excuse my bad manners, Lady Y/n, this is Jon Snow—"

"King Jon Snow," another man with thin white hair corrected, stepping beside Jon. "He's King in the North now."

"Right." Tyrion could only sigh. "This is Ser Davos, Jon's advisor."

"I thought the Seven Kingdoms only have one ruler," you said, earning a curious look from Jon. "I don't think my sister will appreciate such title."

"We have business to discuss with Queen Daenerys," Jon answered, walking past you, "about the things happening right now in the North. Titles will have no meaning if we're all dead."

You looked at Tyrion in confusion as he shrugged his shoulders. He urged for you to follow them as they headed towards the castle, where you could see from a distance Queen Daenerys looking down below at all of you. "The North is currently at war against the Night King."

"And we need more men," Jon added, his voice sounding urgent, "and we need more dragonglass and forge them into weapons."

"Dragonglass are known to be effective against the White Walkers," Tyrion explained by your side as you walked together. "They had been mining back and forth for months now."

"So it's true then, what they say about the White Walkers?" you asked.

Jon gave one look at you before he nodded, "Either you have dragonglass or Valyrian steel, we have no chance against them."

"What about the dragons?"

Jon bit back his mouth before he turned, walking away from you. Ser Davos gave a small bow before he went after Jon.

Tyrion sighed beside you. "He's still convincing the Queen to fight alongside him."

"What's stopping Dany?"

"Cersei."

You turned to look at him.

He went on. "Queen Daenerys will only fight with Jon if they both bent the knee in her favor. Both Jon and Cersei."

You knew then Jon would have to fight alone because there was no chance Cersei would do such a thing.

~~~

After what seemed like a lifetime discussing about the plans on the war against the White Walkers and how to convince Cersei to give up the Iron Throne, you surrendered to the darkness of the night outside the castle, facing the lonely shores of Dragonstone.

You had visited Nymeros half an hour ago. The dragon was happy it was finally where he belonged yet you could tell he was uneasy for the fight that was about to come.

"You look so much like your mother if you only had silver hair." The alluring accent made you alert and look behind you. It was none other than the Red woman herself, Melisandre. She was wearing her red cloak, a hood over her head as her eyes pierced right through you.

"What are you doing here?" was the first thing that came into your mind. The last time you remembered, she was serving Stannis Baratheon, who died during one of the battles in the North.

"Serving the true heir to the throne," she replied, wrapping her arms around her body as the cold breeze from the sea blew towards the both of you.

"My sister have four dragons to her side," you said, chuckling lightly. "I barely think she needs a dedicated follower of the Lord of the Light too."

"I wasn't talking about her," Melisandre replied, now looking at the dark horizon before you.

Her firm response made you stare at the woman. There was no chance she knew about your parentage.

"You were there," you began, slowly remembering, "you were there at the boar hunt Joffrey had planned, at the ambush."

"I was there to protect you," she answered, "as I have sworn since the day you were born."

"What?"

"If I weren't there when Stannis' soldiers attacked you, that arrow would have lunged straight to your heart."

"But you distracted me—"

"Did I really?" Mellisandre looked at you with a smirk on her face before she turned away.

You swallowed nervously. "When you say since the day I was born. . ."

"Yes, I was there when Rhaella gave birth to you," she said. "You were so tiny then, yet your cries were as fierce as a dragon's. Rhaella made me swear to look after you and I did. All these years."

There was a brief silence of you trying to understand what she was telling you. No, she could just be lying to you. She was a witch after all.

"It was me who set Nymeros free from his chains in the cave when you were still young," she went on, "if he'd still be chained, he wouldn't be able to save you from drowning. Or that time you were held hostage by a band of thieves from Braavos, where you mysteriously succeeded in escaping not knowing your captors were already unalived."

"Why? What are you to my mother? Why do you owe her that much to save a child you barely knew?"

Melisandre only went silent, avoiding your gaze.

~~~

"Let me convince her," you said, seeing defeat from your sister and Jon's faces when they came back from the Capital with no good news. Cersei didn't waver. She was stubborn, face stoic as what Ser Davos had observed when she watched a White Walker Jon had captured from the North just to convince everyone in Westeros that death was real.

Daenerys even lost one of her dragons for that quest, yet Cersei was still merciless and selfish.

Daenerys scoffed. "You think she'd bend the knee just because you did? I thought you know her enough."

"I know she'd never bend the knee, but she'd fight alongside with you if she knew what we're facing against—"

"She had enough of that evidence running straight to her face yet it still didn't scare her," Ser Davos butted in.

"Cersei, however less of expression her face shows, is mighty convinced the sea surrounding the Capital will keep the White Walkers away," Varys chimed in. "Unless they have figured out ways to swim or fly."

"Which they can now that they have one of my children," Daenerys hissed.

"I know Cersei since I was a child," Jon interrupted. "She has no heart—"

"You're wrong," you said, defending Cersei. You were whipped, but you knew the Lannister woman better than anyone in the room did. "You don't know her better than I do. She cares enough even when she doesn't show it—"

"Maybe to you," Tyrion said. "But what about now when you're no longer a good fuck to her?"

You glared at Tyrion, knowing he had a point. You didn't exactly leave Cersei in good terms.

"You always knew what she was but you loved her anyway," Tyrion added, sighing in defeat.

"At least, let me try," you pleaded, now facing Daenerys. She was hesitant to let you go. She hadn't even let you go with them. Maybe she did care about you. Or maybe she didn't trust you enough to be loyal to her and go back.

"Bring Nymeros with you," Daenerys said, as she walked away from the counselors. You nodded eagerly amidst the complaints from others, not wasting another second to leave the room.

~~~

"Did you forget what I said I'd do when I see you step your foot in the Capital?" Cersei's cold voice echoed through the entire hall. "You are looking for death if you think I'd help you and your usurper of a sister's cause."

You knew you should be scared. Tyrion had been right all along. You were immediately captured the moment Nymeros left you as soon as you landed on the shores of the Red Keep, near the Blackwater gates.

But even when the Queen's guards poked you with their spears as they forced you to kneel before her, before Cersei herself, you couldn't find it in yourself to be terrified of her.

For almost two months of not seeing her, all you wanted to do was kiss the woman, hug her, touch her and more. Cersei looked much fiercer and tougher than she was the last time you saw her. She had changed yet beauty still incomparable. Her golden hair was adorned with the most elegant looking crown with the Lannister's sigil.

Aside from Nymeros, she was truly the only beautiful thing you had ever witnessed in your life.

But of course, Cersei never cared about you. You were just a good lay, as Tyrion had said.

"My Queen," you bowed down your head, "I plead for you to take mercy. We need more men to fight in the North. We cannot defeat the White Walkers without your help—"

"And what? After the war, you all would seek the throne? When my men are already depleted, you'd take advantage over us? Do you think me of a fool, Lady Y/n?"

You met her gaze, and she was gritting her teeth, anger seething.

"I will never bend the knee," Cersei said with finality in her tone. You exhaled heavily. If you could just talk to her alone, you'd make her understand.

You were about to retort but she held her hand, stopping you. "We will deal with what it's left when you fight against the White Walkers."

Your eyes never wandered as you stared right through her, waiting if she'd also break like you did. However when Prince Doran entered the hall, his eyes on you, you looked away.

"Y/n Martell," Doran called, now standing beside the Queen. "Finally on your knees ready to commit to your crimes?"

"For what? For being your daughter?" you snide back.

Doran went silent for a moment before he walked slowly towards you, unsheathing his sword from his belt. "She was never born. You're no daughter of mine. You're an impostor."

"She is mine to execute," Cersei said, standing up from her seat.

Doran shook his head, facing the Lannister woman. "I chose to serve you, Your Grace. But when one of my people had betrayed me, they will only answer to me alone."

Then he looked back at you. "I've loved Rhaella with all my life but she also chose to betray me in the end. I married her even, convinced the Citadel to annul their marriage beforehand," the statement made everyone in the hall whisper, "yet when I told her to go to Dorne to finally be with me, she chose to stay with the Mad King."

"Are you not sure she was not referring to stay away from you?"

Doran glared at you before he raised his sword ready to hit, but a blade went through his chest, making him gulp in his own blood.

"Bring Y/n to the dungeons," the Queen announced when Doran's body hit the floor with a loud thud. Jamie stood behind Doran, holding a bloody sword. The guards dragged your frozen limb, your eyes still on the bloody figure of the man you thought who'd accept you as his own.

~~~

"The Queen has requested me to escort Y/n to her council room," Qyburn announced to the soldiers guarding you outside your cell in the dungeon not half an hour later from the incident.

When you and Qyburn headed through empty corridors of the castle, you attempted to untie the rope around your wrists. Qyburn helped you when you both have arrived at the door and you were still unsuccessful of untying it yourself.

Cersei was alone, staring out the windows with her hand on the railing, when you entered the room. Qyburn then closed the door, leaving you two.

The air had suddenly gone heavy. The Queen turned her head to finally look at you.

When it was only the two of you, there was an unspoken tension. You swallowed nervously, ready to speak yet Cersei's eyes on you didn't waver.

And as if on instinct, she moved forward towards you as you met her halfway, her arms welcoming you as you embraced her back so tightly. Breathing everything that was her, you tightened your hug around the woman, afraid that if you'd let her go, it would be the last time.

Cersei's hands fisted around your tunic, unbelievable strength coming from the Lannister woman. Then you pulled away as you cupped her face, pulling her close as you pressed your lips against hers.

And it was carnal. The hunger you had for each other was incomparable. Her hands held your head against hers, pulling you closer and closer.

She was devouring you like she had been deprived from sustenance. You pushed the woman against the wall as you returned the same force she showed, tongues dancing against each other, short breaths, gasps, sighs, and moans managed to come out from the little moments your lips would pull away from each other before reconnecting.

And then you could taste it. The bitter taste of Cersei's tears made you pull away, cupping her face gently as the woman only tried to chase after your mouth.

Leaning your forehead against hers, your thumbs wiped the offending liquid before meeting her lips in a slow soft kiss.

"I miss you," Cersei croaked, misery evident in her voice.

Giving her a weak smile, you nodded back. "There's not a day when I didn't think of you, Cersei. Even my dreams were filled with the thoughts of you."

"Why?"

You slowly pulled away as you met her cold hard gaze, her eyes carrying a look of disdain.

"Why did you not come back?"

"I couldn't —"

But then Cersei was already pushing you away as she walked towards her desk, licking her lips with the taste from you. "You didn't even send me a raven."

"Dany—"

Her mocking laughter stopped you. "Dany? You've barely even known her and you're already calling her Dany—"

"She's my sister," you answered, moving towards her.

"Well, I'm your . . . ," she stammered, hesitant. "I'm your . . ."

You could see the dilemma on her face and you pulled her closer. "You're still my Queen. You're my other half, the one I love."

Cersei bit her lower lip to stop herself from sobbing. Then she shook her head as she pushed you away again, turning to look at the window.

"It doesn't matter," she replied, exhaling a heavy breath. "Your love doesn't matter. Your feelings don't matter."

There was a pause of silence before you ended it.

"Then why are we here? Why did you allow me to come?"

The Lannister woman scoffed. "Not to help my enemies collaborate in my destruction. Jon Snow has now chosen to serve her. You have already submitted to her, and now you're making me too—"

"I want you to help us. To help the realm—"

"But eventually, you want everyone to bend the knee to her."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I think she will make the world a better place."

"You think she will not be like her father, the Mad King?"

"She has trusted advisors who would check her worst impulses instead of feeding them."

"Mm, my traitor of a brother. Fine," she walked away, "serve her. Choose her. What you said are true. I don't care about checking my worst impulses. I don't care about making the world a better place. Hang the world. That thing they dragged here, I know what it is, I know what it means. And when it came at me, I didn't think about the world. Not at all."

She stopped, her hand on her stomach. Then she looked at you and she still looked as lost as she was.

You heard Nymeros roar from a distance, growing impatient wondering where you were and why you had not come back.

"Ever wondered why your dragon did not attack me that day you left Dorne?" she asked. You stared at her in confusion. "It was because a part of you is already living inside of me."

And your eyes instinctively went to the hand on her stomach. You slowly approached her, your shaking hands caressing her lower stomach.

"It's . . ." You stopped, memories of Jaime's threats swimming in your head.

The sight made Cersei sad, her hand cupping your face. "I have not been with anyone other than you. I swear on my mother's deathbed. If the dragon had sensed it, then you should know it's true. It's yours, Y/n."

"It's mine?" you asked again, voice almost crying from happiness. The smile on your face hurt. She nodded back, pressing her forehead against yours. Your arms slithered around her, hers around your back, her head buried in your neck as you hugged each other.

"Then you know that I must leave," you said, making the woman lose her control, pull away and sob in front of you, shaking her head. "For you and our baby, Cersei—"

"No, Y/n, I want you here! With me! With us!"

"Death is upon us if we won't take action," you reasoned with her, hands cupping around her face. "I won't let that happen."

"You can't do anything to stop them," Cersei spat back. "They had even defeated one of her dragons—"

"We have three against one—"

"If the dragons can't stop them, if Dothraki and Unsullied and Northmen can't stop them, how will our armies make a difference?" she hissed, tears rolling down her face as you failed to stop her from crying. "This isn't about noble houses anymore, this is about the living and the dead! And I intend to stay amongst the living."

"Cersei—"

"Let the Stark boy and his new queen defend the North. We stay here where we've always been, where we belong."

"I made a promise to my sister—"

"Our child will rule Westeros. Doran admitted his marriage to your mother Rhaella. I made Qyburn consult with the Citadel Maesters and it's true what Doran said. Rhaella's marriage to the Mad King was annuled before she bore Daenerys. This makes you the rightful heir—"

"Our child will never be born if the dead come south," you said.

Shaking her head, Cersei stood her ground. "Let the monsters kill each other. And while they battle in the North, we take back the lands that belong to us, that your sister took."

"And then what?"

"And then we rule."

"When the fighting in the North is over, someone wins. You understand that, don't you? If the dead win, they march south and kill us all—"

"If the living win, and we've betrayed them, they march south and kill us all! They already want to kill us all. Most of them will die in the North."

You slowly pulled away, knowing there wasn't a single thing that would change the Lannister woman's mind. She was set to be selfish. But you'd do anything for her, for your child.

Cersei sighed as she made her way to her desk, leaning against the wood. You made your way to the door, planning your escape, knowing your visit was a failure. "Leave through the tunnels down the Kitchen's Keep. It will lead you straight to a trail beside the Blackwater Rush. The soldiers won't see you there."

You turned to look at the woman, who was already staring at you. Eyes spoke more what words couldn't. "I hate that you still choose to betray me."

"I love you," you said, "and I'm doing this for the both of you."

When you were about to close the door, you heard shuffling behind before the woman engulfed you in an embrace, hugging your back, her arms around your stomach.

"Cersei—"

"Come back to me alive," she whispered. "Promise me you'll come back alive and I will give that sister of yours thousands of my men to fight alongside you."

A smile crept into your face as you turned around and hugged the woman back. "I promise. You're my home, Cersei. You'll always be my home."

The clutch Cersei had on your back tightened as she buried her face deeper into your chest.

Author's note: I truly appreciate your continued support in reading my stories. You can help me create more stories by supporting my writing thru this link.

#cersei lannister x reader #cersei lannister #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #g!p reader #angst #daenerys targaryen

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moosesarecute · 1 month ago

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December 3rd

December Masterlist

Masterlist

Azriel’s plans for the day was to train, hide in his shadows and maybe, just maybe, acknowledge some of his feelings.

He did not expect his brothers to basically attack him and force him to sit down at the River House. He was handed a cup of hot chocolate, but the smell only made him nauseous. Hot chocolate was your thing. He hadn’t been able to drink it since you disappeared.

Az sat in a couch and Cass and Rhys took their seat in front of him. He knew what was coming, but he didn’t want to start the conversation.

Rhys let out a sigh and started talking.

“It’s been over three years, Az. You can’t keep doing this.”

He tried to block out his brother’s words and the concerned and painful look on both of their faces. But somehow, they managed to get through his emotional barrier.

“You’re rotting away, and we hate to see you like this. We have tried and tried, but you won’t let us help!” Cassian continued.

Azriel hated to see his brothers like this. He loved them, very much, but he was too deep into grief. He couldn’t think of anything or anyone that wasn’t you. Which meant, he couldn’t even think about himself.

“Please, just talk to us,” Cassian said.

Azriel had been looking down on his lap for the entire conversation, but now he looked directly into his brothers’ eyes. And then, he shook his head. He felt the cool and comforting feeling of his shadows moving up his arms and chest.

Cauldron, how he wished he could just disappear for the entirety of this month.

“Okay, but then we have no choice,” Rhys said and quickly grabbed both Cassian and Azriel and winnowed away.

“Therapy? Really?” Azriel asked his brothers.

They stood at the entrance of a therapy studio. Azriel would have tried to leave, if it wasn’t for the strong and almost painful grip both of his brothers had on his arms.

A female wished them welcome and showed them to a room. Inside the room sat an older male. He had glasses, a big brown beard, and wore a thick wool sweater. In other circumstances, Azriel would have called the room cozy. It had a small sofa, windows that showed a snow covered Velaris and it smelled from the fireplace.

Cassian made sure Azriel sat down on the sofa before he and Rhys walked out.

“Hello, Azriel. My name is Jonathan, but you can call me Jo. Your friends were hoping you wanted to speak to me. They said December is a hard time for you and that you might needed someone that wasn’t family to speak to.”

Azriel didn’t answer Jonathan. The room was big, but it felt tiny. He felt so out of place. His wings were too big for the sofa and the smell of the fireplace brought him too many memories from you.

“The first session is usually used to get to know each other. Is there something you would like to tell me about yourself?”

The more Jonathan spoke, the harder it was for Azriel to keep out from his shadows comforting embrace. Why couldn’t he just disappear?

“Well, I can start. I’m Jo. I’m 967 years. I love reading and baking and I often go for runs beside the Sidra. And I’m a widower after my mate died almost a century ago.”

Azriel’s eyes shot towards the male after he heard his words.

He had also lost his mate.

Jonathan lifted his eyebrows to encourage Azriel to speak.

For cauldron’s sake.

“I’m Azriel. I’m 541 years. And my mate disappeared over three years ago.”

Azriel felt the immense need to cry fill his body and mind from just saying aloud that you disappeared.

“She disappeared?” Jonathan asked him and he just nodded as an answer and Jonathan continued. “It took me almost forty years to manage to live a life again after my mate died. I cut all contact with my family and tried to pretend that he wasn’t dead. It took me forty years to ask for help and after I did, I spent another forty years building a life. So Azriel, how many years do you want to spend?”

All it took was one shaky breath and Azriel broke down.

Annette walked through the library. That was the most frequently place she visited. She remembered reading almost half of the books, and she constantly found new ones to enjoy.

She walked towards one of the shelves with books she hadn’t read. She stopped, let her finger fall in front of a random book and counted. Annette counted to seven and for each number she took a new step. She never knew why she always counted to seven, but it felt right.

She picked up a book and read the title: “The Light in Winter”. The cover held a beautiful illustration of green and red waves in the sky. Annette could almost imagine the movement of the lights. She saw them dancing, almost like shadows.

Bringing her new read with her, Annette went to sit in the living room. She sat down in her chair, took her awful medicine that Cathrine brought her and put on her two big blankets, before she started reading.

The book told a story of a place where everyone loved the winter. Where the cold was embraced and cherished. Unless it was snowing, the sky was shining in the most beautiful blue colour and fae, trolls and elves all lived there.

Every night of the month of December, the Winter Lights would dance in the sky and the fae and creatures that lived in Winter would dance along with it. The lights were special for Winter and could only be seen one other place.

Annette felt her eyes grow at least double in size. Imagine seeing the dancing lights. How amazing it would be.

She spent the rest of her day reading the story multiple times to get the most details. And when it was time for bed, she felt she had lived an entirely different life just from reading a story about the magnificent Winter Lights.

Dividers by @issysh3ll

#acotar #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x oc #azriel x original character

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dude-boi · 2 years ago

Text

Fantasies.

6.6k words.

Summary: Joel, your dad's best friend, should not be thinking of you the way he has been, shamelessly. What happens when he grows tired of your incessant teasing?

Warnings: Not proofread. No Ellie! SMUT. Hefty age gap (Joel is around 50, the reader is around 22)... unprotected p in v... praise, fingering, mirror sex, slight masturbation. Also, the reader has light insomnia. Tbh, I want to make a second part to this but we'll see.

--------------------- Joel Miller. Your dad's best friend/ business partner. Your dad and he work together on some business, one you had no idea about (though you rightfully assumed smuggling). But you didn't dare ask any questions, because it kept you all safe and kept a hefty amount of rations on the table. He's been around for as long as you can remember, watching you grow up into the young woman you are now. You both didn't talk much, but you were used to seeing him around all the time, your dad couldn't do anything without him.

So, when you found yourself thinking of Joel at 2 A.M with your hand between your thighs and soft pants escaping your lips, you couldn't help but feel a little ashamed, even if you were of age. In all twenty-two years of your life, you'd always have some kind of interest towards Joel. It started out innocently, how any little girl would have a wholesome infatuation towards a someone who'd show her attention. But it developed into something else, something more taboo. It felt wrong to think of him like that, to imagine it was his thick, calloused fingers pumping into you instead of your own, to imagine him taking your innocence, your purity, your virginity. The thought of someone so close to you, someone so much older taking care of you and making you feel good just turned you on so much more. He wasn't an ugly man, by any means. In fact, he might've been the hottest man you've ever seen. Everything about him was just right. His salted hair, his gruff beard, his nose, the scar on it, his built arms, the way he stays close to you when your dad forces you to go exploring with him, his accent. Oh god the accent, it just ties everything up with a little bow.

As you curled your fingers in and out of you, you couldn't help but imagine Joel calling you darlin' or sugar, little nicknames he'd given you through your childhood. Images of his arms flashed through your head. Images of him sitting here, fingering you as he praised you, calling you baby girl, and saying how good you're doing. You couldn't hold yourself back any longer, cumming around your own fingers as you softly gasped out his name, a mantra of Joel, Joel, Joel filling your own ears.

The euphoria you felt after was indescribable, but it was tainted with the feeling of guilt, but it made it all the more delicious.

-----

You weren't surprised to find Joel sitting at your breakfast table the very next morning. He was over at your house, a lot. It was a casual thing, he'd be on the couch with your dad discussing work stuff and spend the night in the guest room next to yours. A part of you had silently wished he could hear you touching yourself, mewling and calling out to him. The idea of getting caught made it all the more better.

So seeing him eating a bowl of cereal in a dark brown t-shirt at 8:45 in the morning didn't phase you at all, but it did make you self conscious as you were suddenly hyper-aware of your body in a tank top and shorts. And clearly so was Joel, the way his gaze hardened as his eyes lingered. He looked up at you through his eyebrows, his spoon just leaving his mouth as he swallowed.

"Mornin'," he told you, finishing up his food. He wasn't a man of many words, his eyes did the work for him. And right now, he couldn't keep them to himself. You smiled after remembering what you did last night, thinking of him while you did.

Keeping eye contact, you replied with a soft grin. "Hey, Joel." Your stomach churned and stirred as you thought about what would happen if he found out about your... fantasies. And your fears were apparent on your face as you poured yourself a glass of water in the kitchen.

Joel noticed your discomfort, and he decided to pry. "Ya' look rough." He raised a brow in curiosity. His arm flexed as he stood up with his bowl in hand, walking towards you in the kitchen. He was putting away his dish. You chuckled nervously, thinking back to your scandalous events the previous night. You felt your face grow warm. "Gee thanks." You replied in a sarcastic yet monotone tone. "Just worn out, didn't sleep till like 2."

"Well, that's no good. You're gon' be tired today then." He tutted, sounds of tsk tsk tsk leaving his lips as he internally reprimanded you for not taking care of yourself.

You tilted your head as he turned around to face you, he leaned against the counter too. He dried his wet hands on his tee. "Today? What's today?" It sounded like there were plans you were unaware of.

"Daddy didn't tell you?" He crossed his arms as he sighed, looking at you. You both were staring at each other and if you didn't know any better, you would've sworn he looked you up and down.

You shook your head, still confused. "No?"

Shaking his head, Joel told you about the plan your dad had come up with. "'He wanted me to take you out today, says you can't be home for a couple hours." You were confused, why couldn't you be home?

"Why not? Is this work-related?" You asked, knowing if it was, you would go with Joel no questions asked. You would've gone with him regardless.

He nodded a nod of affirmation, clearing up your doubts. Your father would have people over to discuss business or to give things to people and he didn't want you around for it, valid. You sighed, wanting to have a lazy day, but you didn't complain.

"Where are they, anyway?" You noticed how you hadn't seen them all morning.

"They had to run out and grab a few things f' the meeting." It annoyed you how your parents would always meet with smuggling clients in your own home. Whatever.

He had told you to go and get ready and you obliged.

"Where are we going?" You questioned, swearing it would be your last question.

"Just out, drive around."

You nodded again before leaving the kitchen. You could barely keep it together. The second you turned around, you bit your lip to stay quiet, afraid that you would scream if you didn't. He had that effect on you. But you were unaware of the way Joel adjusted his jeans as he watched you stride back up the stairs in those tiny shorts.

You took a quick shower, slipped on a pair of jean shorts and a white t-shirt that was a size too small for you, because God knows your true intentions with Joel. You paused in front of the vanity that lay across the foot of your bed. You brushed your hair down and smoothed your shirt. You just wanted to look good for him, was it a crime? As you trotted back downstairs, he looked up at you from the couch and bit the inside of his cheek. You almost missed his action, but you didn't as you bit back a sly smile.

His eyes shifted around the room before he stood up and grabbed his flannel. You both stepped out to the front door to slip on your shoes. You clung onto Joel's arm for stability as you put your boots on, he clenched his jaw. He had to control himself. Joel unlocked his truck and opened the passenger side door for you, what a gentleman. Before you knew it, you both were off.

A CD played quietly as you both wallowed in comfortable silence, it was a silence you'd grown to love and look forward to over the years. He wasn't a very vocal person, but you didn't mind that. The windows were open and the sun beamed down onto your face, illuminating your features softly. You looked over to Joel who had one hand on the wheel and the other out the window. He looked tantalizing, provocative, almost. The way his jaw was clenched, how the top two buttons on his shirt were unbuttoned, how he looked so concentrated as his chest rose and fell, the way his hair got all fluffed up by the wind, the way he tapped his fingers on the wheel to the beat of the song. His fingers. Those same large fingers you'd dream about. The scene was almost pornographic, you wanted to scream.

You ogled him, and it didn't go unnoticed. He peeked over at you and then looked back to the road. "What?" You heard him, but you weren't listening. His words sounded like muffled noises as you waded in your explicit daydream. Joel put his left on the steering and waved his right in front of your face. That snapped you out of it.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry-" He raised a brow and you stared at him, a sultry stare. "Just tired," You gave a half-assed answer, hoping it would please him. Looking back down into your lap, you smoothed down your shirt.

"What're you doing up so late?" he interrogated. It put you in a weird spot. You obviously couldn't tell him what you were actually doing, so you tried your best to tell as much as you can. You would always try to avoid lying to Joel, partially because it made you feel bad but mostly because he could tell. He could read you and your body language too well.

"I don't know. It gets lonely, and I can't sleep. You know, the norm'." You chuckled softly, but you weren't lying. It really does get lonely and there's not much you can do about it. And you've struggled with sleep recently, insomnia creeping up on you with age. You've mentioned it before, but not how it keeps you up for hours.

"You gotta take care of yourself. You're not... a kid anymore." he huffed, he wouldn't say it out loud but he felt this urge, an urge to take care of you and keep you under his wing forever, keep you his girl forever. But he can't do that, can he? How could he feel this kind of way towards his best friends daughter? He would catch his eyes loitering over you when you emerged from your bedroom in your shorts and tee, and he could feel his heart beat every time you looked up at him with soft eyes, thanking him for whatever gesture he'd do for you. Because that's all Joel did, help help help, give give give. Joel felt something for you in a way he didn't think was possible for him ever again. He felt ashamed in the best way possible.

"I've got you, don't I?" You joked, snorting a bit. You peered over at him to see his reaction. His jaw clenched as he forced out a tiny smile ."Uh huh, yeah."

-----

Joel had pulled over for a bit to take a break. You were on some empty bridge over a lake, the scenery was beautiful. He had brought water, which you very desperately needed. The summer heat seared your skin, moisture droplets pooling in the dips of your body.

Your hands found their way to the cupholder by Joel's thigh. Although you wanted to place your hand on his leg and inch it higher, your controlled your urges and grabbed the water bottle instead of his dick. You unscrewed the cap, tilted your head back, and opened your mouth to waterfall the water into your mouth. Joel observed the way you licked your lips before drinking, the way your throat bobbed up and down upon swallowing, the way rogue droplets of water trickled down the corner of your mouth down to your throat, and if they were lucky, into your shirt and onto your chest. You peeked over at Joel. You almost choked on your water after seeing he was staring. A lightbulb flickered above your head as you had what seemed like a great idea. You "accidentally" spilled water onto your shirt and watched it cling to your breasts, the color of your bra fading in slightly.

"Ah shit. I'm sorry-" you apologized before Joel grunted and mumbled incoherently before lifting himself off the seat and reaching into the backseat over the center console. His shirt lifted slightly, revealing the waistband of his boxers under his jeans. He grunted again while he grabbed something and gave it to you, a rag. You thanked him and watched him as your rubbed it against your chest. You decided to have a little fun with it, make it antagonizing, painful. His eyes met yours and he watched as a twinkle of mischief appeared. You hands squeezed the rag as you rubbed it against your body, slowly.

It angered Joel. It angered him in a different way. It angered him to see you sitting here, driving him up a wall when he'd rather he fucking you against one instead. He was angry at the world for making this beautiful girl in front of him his best friend's daughter. What he wouldn't give to just grab your face.

You held back a smirk as you placed the rag on Joel's lap after finishing "drying" yourself. It wasn't very dry obviously, but it was good enough. Still not done, you picked up the bottle again. But this time, you put your mouth on it. Your blushed lips wrapped around the head of the bottle as you took one last gulp as Joel watched your throat bob.

You left a hefty amount for Joel as you pulled it away from your lips, the smallest string of spit connecting to your lips and the bottle. Bringing it back down to hand to him, you bit the inside of your cheek. You noticed how his eyes were already on you before you looked, it made you swell with hope and delusion. But you weren't crazy. He was looking, staring, scanning, analyzing your every move. It was a habit of his, something he'd learn to do when his life was always in danger. But he used it for other purposes, like looking at the beautiful young woman next to him.

He took the bottle from your hand with no words exchanged, your fingers brushing against his momentarily. The contradiction between both of your fingers was almost electric, your soft fingers against his rugged digits, your petite hand against his broad one. His eyes found yours again. He decided to play your little game with you. He watched you intently as he wrapped his lips around the bottle, the bottle you just had your mouth on. His free hand gripped the rag you tossed at him.

He enjoyed this little game you played with him, and this wasn't the first time either. The amount of times you'd brush your knee against his, graze your fingers against his shoulder, look at him pathetically when you were bored. And now that he had the chance to reciprocate it without anyone around, he felt like he could have you wrapped around his little finger. It felt wrong, but he couldn't care less.

You clenched your thighs together as you watched him wrap his chapped lips around your spit-ridden bottle. Did he know what he was doing to you?

Deciding to have mercy on you, he put the bottle back down in the cupholder. Joel got out of the car, his excuse being to get some fresh air, but in reality he needed to adjust his half-hard cock. You threw your head back in the seat and splayed your arm across your face while something between a sigh and a groan exuded out of you. Your thighs instinctively rubbed together in hopes to soothe the dull ache forming. This was probably the hottest thing you've experienced in your entire lifetime, which you thought was embarrassing. Being 22 and a virgin having done absolutely nothing, but Joel having experience made it all the worth while. You would always imagine that he'd take care of you, teach you the ropes, show you how to touch yourself while-

"What happened t' you?" Joel interrupted your thoughts as he popped up at your window. You jumped took your hand off your face, looking to him as your thighs stopped moving.

"Jesus, Joel." You shook your head, a hand resting on your chest.

"Didn't mean to scare ya', pretty."

Pretty.

He must've noticed your reaction with the way he chuckled. It was a deep, guttural sound. He walked around front, grabbing his aching back to get back in the driver seat as you sat up in the seat, embarrassed, somewhat turned on, and ready to go home. Joel glanced at his watch before starting up his truck once more.

"Your daddy should be done now," was all he said before you both drove off to your place of shelter.

-----

That evening was pretty uneventful. After Joel brought you home, you had thanked him with the softest smile and the most twinkling eyes you could conjure up, your last attempt to rile him up. You went up into your room to take a nap until dinner, assuming it would just be you and your parents tonight.

However, that was not the case. Joel was there, he stayed for dinner. On a normal occasion, dinner with Joel made you all giddy and excited, but not today. Not after you saw how Joel reciprocated your stupid little game. It made your stomach churn, in both a good and bad way, you couldn't decide.

At the little circular dining table, Joel took a seat next to you, your mother next him, and your father next to her which brought him seated right next to you. You couldn't help it as your leg bounced, a form of excitement settling in.

Dinner started off normally, passing around food as your father made conversation to Joel about the meeting. Your mother would occasionally include her input, which left you sitting there all quiet.

"He wants to meet again next week. Both of us." Your father voiced to Joel as he nodded, his eyes flickering beside him to look at you. They went on, talking about god knows what and junk you couldn't care less about.

In a world like this it was easy to feel neglected, unseen, lonely. Even with all these people surrounding you. So when your lip twitched while you poked at your food, Joel noticed. He interrupted your dad and mom to reel you into their conversation.

"We had fun today." Joel sounded. His voice was so gruff yet so smooth. "Me and you, right?" He looked up at you through his eyebrows, a thin grin falling upon his lips as he remembered your events of the day.

Caught off-guard, you lifted your head up and looked around the table to see all eyes on you. "Hmm? Oh, yeah. Was a beautiful drive." You couldn't care less about the drive, Joel was the only beautiful thing in your eyes for miles.

"Is that right, sweetie? I'm glad it wasn't boring. She didn't bother you, did she Joel?" Your mother smiled warmly at you before turning her attention back to Joel, who seemed to be thinking, reminiscing. A smirk played onto his face as he stared at you and then her.

"Shes a good girl. Not too much." He told her playfully. But he lied, you got him all hot and bothered.

-----

Dinner felt like an eternity. You couldn't even hold your appetite the way Joel made you feel. You wished for it to be over so you could just lock yourself in your room till morning. It felt like a dream, the whole day was absolutely unreal in the best way possible. To make your day even longer, your mother had offered to let Joel stay for the night, again. It's not like he had anywhere better to be. He was like a permanent fixture in your home, he had that designated guest room next to you and everything.

You finished your dinner as soon as possible and tried to leave upstairs when your mother stopped you. "Be polite, could you please clean up the dishes?" she asked you, slightly jerking her head towards Joel to tell you to be a nice host. You spat out a smile and a slightly annoyed nod before you got up to collect plates. Instead of going to Joel first, you picked up your dad's, then your mother's and then Joel's. You leaned over by his shoulder almost into his lap, giving him a slight view of your breasts. He was so close to you, you could smell him and he could smell you. His jaw twitched as he started to grind his teeth. His breath was shallow and he had no expression on his face. Your hair brushed his shoulder as you got back up, giving Joel a cute little smile. He smiled back, but it wasn't genuine, you could tell. He adjusted the napkin on his lap, attempting to hide something.

You turned around and walked back to the kitchen with a little pep in your step, ecstatic that you almost made him break. As soon as you were in the kitchen and away from the table, you let out a snort. Humming, you rinsed and washed each dish slowly, taking your sweet, sweet time. That was until someone had found their way to the kitchen, and that someone was Joel.

You decided to pay no mind to it and continue washing. He grabbed your shoulder and spun you around, causing you to let go of the dish into the sink. With soapy hands, you balanced yourself by grabbing the ledge behind you.

"The hell ya' think you're doin'?" His expression was unreadable. His teeth were clenched and his brows were furrowed. Even in a moment like this, when his body is almost pressed against yours and your back is digging into the edge of the sink, you still couldn't help but notice how good he looks. The wrinkles and smile lines against his sun kissed skin show cased his life, his experiences, his hardened past.

"What are you talking about?" You shook your head and lied, this was fun. You crossed your wet arms, once again wetting your shirt.

"Oh please. Ya' think I don't know what you're tryin'? Pickin' up the dishes, the water bottle, the shirt. I might be old, but 'm not stupid, darlin'."

Darlin'. You swore if he called you anything else besides your name you would tie your hair up and get on your knees now. You just snorted before turning back around to finish up washing the dishes. Your ass was ghosting against his crotch. He took a step back, angrily. "Joel, please. I haven't done anything. Think your just imagining shit." All you heard was a scoff before he exited the kitchen, and you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

-----

Around 12 A.M, you were up in your room in a short nightgown, reading some book to get your mind off of things. Today's events were wayyy different than any other interaction with Joel, it kind of excited you. Knowing he was next door just made you more nervous, yet excited.

God you were so turned on, so so riled up. Assuming Joel was asleep, you had tossed your book to the side of your bed and settled against your headboard comfortably. The walls were thin, you knew that. But Joel was an older man, he would sleep through anything. That's what you convinced yourself as you slipped your hand back between your thighs, rubbing softly just like the night before. Soft mewls filled your own ears as the familiar burn in your stomach formed, your fingers rubbing harsh circles on your clit. Taking it further, your slipped a finger inside, a pant leaving your lips.

"Shit... Joel.." You tried so hard to whisper, and you thought you did, until someone knocked on your door. You stopped dead in your tracks, the noise startling you. There was another knock, a bit louder. You slipped out of bed and wiped your sticky hand off on a towel that was hanging on your closet door before going up to open the door.

For fuck's sake. It was Joel. This made your heart sink slightly, what if he had heard? Why was he even awake? Before you could even open your mouth to question him, he pushed past the half-cracked door and shut it behind him, locking it as well.

"What the hell, Joel?" you inquired, angry that you were interrupted and embarrassed to be standing here in your short little nightgown. It made you feel childish.

He didn't say anything, just studied you up and down before taking a step closer, like you both were in the kitchen, bodies pressed up against each other. "Trouble sleepin'?" His face was hard to read. He looked.. amused? You shook your head in disbelief, trying to come up with an answer. As you opened your mouth to answer, he cut you off. "'F you're gonna lie to me, don't bother speaking," You closed your mouth quickly, caught off guard. Bingo, he got you there. He looked smug, smug that he finally was getting you back after all those times. He leaned down and in, his face right in front of yours with your breaths swirling together between your lips. He moved again, this time leaning into your ear to whisper, "Because we both know what you were doin' in here. Right? Touchin' yourself, moanin' my name, you think I couldn't hear you? 'M surprised the whole house didn't wake up to you sayin' my name like that." This was the most he's ever said anything to you in one go. So he did hear you, he heard you all those nights youd fantasized about him fucking you into oblivion. Your face flushed hot. Incredibly humiliated, you looked down, staring down at your bare toes as Joel kept his lips near your ear. "What happened to that confidence, girl? What about that stunt you pulled in front of your parents? Where's that little loud mouth?" He chuckled dryly as his rough, large hands found their place at your chin. Those same hands you'd fantasize about were holding your chin between two fingers and lifting it up to look Joel in the eye. "Poor girl... she's 'mbarrassed..." was all he said before holding your hand and leading you to the edge of your bed.

He sat down on it with legs slightly spread as he patted his lap, gesturing you to sit. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, was all that ran through your head as you sat on his lap, back flush against his chest as you both were facing your vanity. From the reflection of the mirror, you could see Joel smiling, brushing hair behind your ear. He was tantalizing, slow, and it was killing you. You wanted him to put his hands anywhere he wanted, but he's being careful, precise. Getting impatient, you let out something between a whine and a Joel. He was amused. You started to grind on him in a pathetic attempt to tarnish that familiar ache in your lower belly. With a laugh, Joel's hands found their way to your knees, spreading them apart while he made sure you were watching in the mirror. Your dim, warmly lit room cast an orange tint over you both, Joel's silver hair glistening in it.

He spread your legs open and flipped your gown up above your hips, revealing your cotton panties underneath. If you knew this would've happened, you would've worn something cuter. You looked away from the mirror, embarrassed for what felt like the hundredth time tonight.

He noticed your embarrassment and your attempt to hide it.

"Well aren't these cute." He said, talking about your untouched, white panties.

"Oh please." You slightly rolled your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek as you looked down to his hands that traced lines up your bare thighs and to your core. He stopped touching you and you looked into the mirror to make eye contact with him.

"You gonna gimmie an attitude? 'Cause I'll leave you here all hot 'n bothered, just like you did to me."

"No, I'm sorry, Joel please," you whined, he had you begging before he barely even touched you.

"You gonna be good?"

"So good." That was all you whispered before Joel split your legs apart farther while his left hand wrapped around your stomach, both keeping you in place and keeping your nightgown up. His right hand settled between your wide legs, messing with the hem of your panties before simply pushing them to the side, revealing your glistening cunt.

A satisfied, mmh noise left Joel's throat his middle finger prodded around, gathering slick between your slit and dragging it up to your clit. You gasped, the feeling being much better than you could ever dream of. His fingers rubbed up and down your folds, his thick finger softly rubbing your clit in small circles.

You could see it all, see your cunt and his finger wet and glistening, see the way his jaw clenches as he watches himself touch you, you could see it all in the mirror. You saw the way his middle finger disappeared inside you and re-appeared before it disappeared once more. You saw the way your mouth fell into a loose 'o' shape as his thumb simultaneously prodded at your clit.

As the pressure built up in your lower belly, Joel added his ring finger. You clenched around him as he curled his fingers inside of you, thumb still on your clit. You looked away from the mirror, unable to stay focused as the the wet squelching filled your ears and you stomach burned.

He let go of your stomach and brought his hand up to your face as the gown flipped back over his hand fucking into you, gripping it harshly and turning it back towards the mirror. "Keep watchin'." He was stern, you were aware of that by the way squeezed your face before letting go, flipping your gown back up. All of this while simultaneously fucking you with his fingers. It was magical. Your own fingers never felt this way, they didn't make you squirm like he did or make you whine as loud. They didn't make you cum like this either. Your moans got higher as his fingers pushed in and out of you faster, your orgasm approaching. You squirmed so much, so Joel's left hand held you in place tightly. His grip almost hurt.

"'S alright, let it go baby." He mumbled so quietly you almost missed it.

Feeling it upon you, you almost yelped, but Joel clapped his left hand over your mouth and held it shut tightly, your moans disappearing into his palm. Your jaw went slack as the knot in your stomach unraveled, coating Joel's fingers white. He let out a satisfied hum as he rode out your orgasm, your legs shaking ever so slightly. It was intense. Your head was reeling as Joel prompted you to look at the mirror, and you did. You saw yourself on his lap breathing heavily and a mess on his jeans and fingers. He wiped his fingers off on his jeans before holding both your shoulder and helping you up, holding you while you found your balance.

You gripped on to his arm while he stood in front of you, smoothing down your gown. You peered up at him through your lashes and he looked down at you. You felt like you had to do something for him after he did this for you, you had to help him out too, right? Assuming so, you got down on your knees while keeping eye contact the whole time. As soon as your knees hit the cold floor, you held onto his calves and peered up at him.

"I've never... never done this before." You bit your lip as your face turned red with that confession. He laughed dryly, rubbing one of your cheeks with his thumb.

"Oh get up." He held you by your shoulders and brought you back onto your feet. "'S your first time, 'm not gonna make you do that. Maybe next time." He continued to chuckle.

Next time.

Joel had pushed you back onto the bed softly, the back of your knees hit your plush sheets. You plopped onto the bed with your knees supporting you up and your legs hung off the edge as Joel slotted himself between your knees. He just gazed upon you, watched the way the warm light lit up your cheeks. You did the same, you watched his hungry eyes dart up and down your body, the way his white hair lay all messed up, the first two buttons on his shirt unbuttoned and his shoulders hunched and probably aching. His hands found the edge of your nightgown and he pulled it over your head and tossed it to the side, drinking in your beautiful body. He ran his hands up and down your soft skin, remembered every curve and dip.

You couldn't wait any longer. Panting heavily, you grabbed the his belt and pulled him down so your hips were touching. You squeezed your thighs together to relieve the feeling that was building up once again.

"So eager." Was all he mumbled before he was undoing his belt and slipping his jeans down to his knees, revealing his boxers and his hard bulge. Just by the looks of it, he was huge. There was a small wet patch on his boxers where his precum leaked out. Your mouth hung open as Joel watched your face while he slowly pulled down his boxers. It wouldn't fit. No way. He was too fucking big. It sprung out and slapped against his stomach, curving ever so slightly to the left. Not only was it long, it was thick too, it would definitely hurt.

"It won't fit, no way. I've never done this before, Joel there's no way it'll-" he cut you off.

"We'll make it fit." That had shut you up. Whatever Joel said, goes. You didn't dare talk back to him now, not after seeing what he could do to you. With his knee, he pushed your knees apart and cupped your cheek with his gruff hand. He just watched you as he bent over, cock brushing against your bare, sticky thigh. You laid on the bed all sprawled out, heavy breath and messy hair, ready to do whatever Joel wanted you to.

Lodging the tip of his cock inside you, he held onto your waist with one hand while he used his other to support himself up.

"Pleaseee Joel." You pleaded, not being able to wait anymore. He didn't need anymore convincing. He practically hurled himself forward, thrusting inside of you as his cock stretched you out painfully. Your instinct was to clench around him to ease the pain but it didn't help. You were squirming and whimpering, the pain felt like you were being split in half. Joel grunted as he slipped inside. You were pulsing around him impossibly tight.

Joel cinched his brows and grunted as you tightly wrapped around him. "Relax. Relax b'fore you- kill me." He was referencing to how tight you were, your back arching off the bed. Joel's hand found its way to your clit, rubbing soft circles onto it to try to get you relax. It helped enough, enough for Joel to start moving. He set a merciful pace to start you off slow, it being your first time.

"Shit, squeezin' me so tight." Joel grunted out as he pulled his hips back and slammed back into you, punching all the air out of your lungs. He began to speed up, the tip of his cock reaching that spongy part inside you. He stretched you out wide and the pain slowly converted to pleasure. You mewled out loudly, holding on to the thin sheets of your bed. He had grabbed the backs of your knees and brought them up to your chest, this new angle had him reaching deeper than before.

"Fuckfuckfuck Joel.. Joel." a mantra of Joel's escaped your pretty lips loudly as he nailed into you hard. Maybe you were a little too loud because Joel's hand found its way back to your face and was clasped over your mouth again.

"Shut up. What would your daddy say if he saw you clenchin' around my cock and screamin' my name like that, hmm? Not such a good little girl anymore, are ya'?" He taunted. You wanted to swat him away and reprimand him for embarrassing you like that, but the feeling of his dick hitting your cervix made you forget about everything else in this world. Each thrust pushed all air out of your lungs and all thoughts out of your brain as Joel would mumble some incoherent praises, telling you how good you were doing.

He only sped up, thrusting in and out while he kept his hand over your mouth. Your moan were muffled and Joel's deep groans and the sound of skin slapping was all that could be heard. It was obscene. You couldn't last any longer, not with the way he was holding your legs up to your body and definitely not with the way his cock was buried inside you. That familiar knot built up inside you once more, threatening to snap with every snap of Joel's aching hips. He could feel it, he could tell you were close the way you pulsed around him. So he sped up, sped up to a pace you didn't even know was possible as you came. You came all over his cock, a white ring forming around it as he kept fucking it out of you.

"Such a sweet girl , so so sweet." He didn't even know what he was saying as he could feel himself getting closer too. Joel didn't stop, he didn't even slow. You didn't have time to recover from your almost painful orgasm as he chased his own. You were so fucked out and he fucked you more, it started to hurt. It was overstimulating.

"I can't.. 's enough, Joel 's enough-" you choked out.

"You can take it, I know you can." was all he grunted out as you whimpered back arching once more. Joel's hips stuttered, but he didn't slow. He kept going, abusing your puffy hole as he choked out one last broken moan before pulling out to cum on your stomach. His hands let go of your legs as he gave himself one last tug. Hot ropes spurted out of him and onto your stomach, you could only whimper at the loss of his dick inside you.

He used his hand to cup your cheek, caressing your sweat ridden face softly. "Told ya' you could take it." You could only roll your eyes as your legs ached and your head spun and Joel laughed. He liked seeing you fucked out like this, his cum all over your stomach and your cunt red and stinging. You were so exhausted.

Before you passed out, the last thing you remembered was the feeling of a warm towel cleaning you up and Joel's honey smooth voice saying, "Relax, baby girl. We can talk about it tomorrow."

In the state you were in now, you couldn't even tell if this was a dream. Tomorrow. Would you even be able to face him tomorrow?

-----

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #tlou smut #the last of us smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller

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cevansbrat0007 · 6 months ago

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Indecent Exposure Pt. III: Poolside Promises

Summary: You convince Ari to finally let you have a little fun this summer. But at what cost? Check out Part One!

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Dad's Best Friend Themes, Older Men/Younger Women Themes, Brief Allusion to Oral Sex, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Please heed all warnings. Part of my Indecent Exposure Series. If you'd like to be added to the tag list, please let me know.

Almost Two Weeks After Your Father's Departure...

You glide through the water effortlessly, seeking a brief relief from the summer heat. While the news had promised you and everyone else that today’s weather would be one for the books, the warnings still hadn’t been enough to prepare you for the heat that assailed you the moment you’d stepped out the back door.

However, it’s not until you allow your head to break through the surface that you realize you were no longer alone. You had company. And he was also staring at you.

Again. It was something he had a habit of doing.

“Can I help you?” It’s a flatly delivered question.

The man only shrugs, dragging a hand through his shaggy, chestnut brown locks. Frankly, he looked so much like his brother you were almost surprised that you’d never really noticed just how many similarities they actually shared.

Same striking blue eyes. Same massive build. Same chiseled jaw that looked great with or without a beard. But where Steve always possessed an aura or control, Ari emanated something a little more raw and untamed.

You found found that it sometimes did funny things to those annoying butterflies that had seemingly taken up residence in your belly these days.

“Did you need something?” You try as you continue to tread water in the middle of the pool.

“Nothing you're quite prepared to give, sweet Clover.” Ari responds cryptically, his head cocking to the side as he continues to survey you.

“Then why the hell do you keep staring at me?”

That was another thing you’d recently come to learn about Ari over the last couple of days. He didn’t seem to care whenever you decided to take a spicy tone with him – a fact you’d discovered when you’d found him sitting in your father’s study just the other morning.

You’d been so happy until that moment, especially since you’d previously been granted three days free of Bucky, Steve, and Andy. Your time alone had been glorious, even if it had proved to be short lived.

You watch the older man closely, fascinated by the increasingly pronounced tick in his jaw. Hell, if he was allowed to stare then so would you. However, the question was, who would blink first?

Turns out, that award belonged to Ari.

Humming a tune under his breath, he proceeds to grab a lawn chair before pulling it closer to the edge of the pool. Neither one of you says a word as he takes a seat, his sinewy muscles bunching and flexing beneath the thin fabric of his light gray t-shirt.

“Just came out here to check on you.” He reaches up to scratch at his beard. “See how you were managing in this heat.”

“I’m managing by planning to spend all afternoon in the pool, like any other sane person would.”

“Ya know, I’m pretty sure Bucky and the boys made it clear that they don’t appreciate your little penchant for snark.” He muses, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

Probably. You inwardly concede. It definitely hasn't been winning you any favors. Which is why you often preferred to play the part of a mute. Whenever they allowed you to, that is.

“Doesn’t seem to bother you.” You respond honestly before closing your eyes and flipping your body so that you can float on your back, giving Ari a glimpse of your peaches and cream-colored bikini.

“That’s cuz’ not too much bothers me. I don’t allow it.”

“Hmm…” You spread your arms, silently wishing you could simply float away from this conversation entirely. “Maybe you should talk to the others about that. Seems like I find a new way to piss them off every time I open my mouth.”

“Nah.” Ari shrugs away your words as he continues to appear unbothered by the heat. “Something tells me they don’t quite know just what to do with a pretty little thing like you.”

“Oh. And you do?” Well, you could safely say that you hadn’t been expecting that answer.

“I’d certainly like to think so.”

His statement hangs in the air as you both fall silent. While you weren’t quite sure what your would-be caretaker was talking about, it was definitely enough to make you think. And it’s at that moment that you decide to change tactics. Instead of floating here annoyed, perhaps it was time to use Ari’s seemingly indulgent personality to your benefit.

A friend of yours was throwing a party tonight. And you wanted to go.

When you’d previously brought it up to Bucky and Steve, they’d both hemmed and hawed over the subject – asking you all kinds of questions and refusing to give you anything more than a non-committal “we’ll have to see” or "we'll have to sit down and talk about it". And when you’d tried to play the ultimate trump card by calling your father, he’d sided with them.

“I’m not there, pumpkin.” Your Dad had said while you’d been holed-up pouting in your room. “I asked your Uncles to watch over you, which means I’m gonna have to defer to them in situations like this one."

And, as luck would have it, you hadn’t been able to get your answer before they’d just up and disappeared on you like the overbearing assholes they were proving themselves to be.

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure I trust the judgment of anyone who’s crazy enough to sit out here in this heat and roast – not when there’s a perfectly good pool, like, right in front of them.”

“Not sure that pool of yours is big enough for the both of us.” Ari mutters, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. Although you get the feeling he’s talking more to himself than you.

“It’s plenty big.” You eagerly reassure him, adjusting your position so that you can float closer to where your pseudo-guardian is sitting. “See? There’s aaall this space.”

For a second Ari appears unsure. And the closer you get, there’s no denying the fact that he was finally showing signs of feeling the heat. It’s hard to miss the thin line of sweat dotting along his brow.

“C’mon…” You urge, playfully splashing him. “Don’t be such a hard ass, Uncle Ari.” You decide to tack on the last bit for his benefit, all the while trying hard to keep the edge out of your tone. But if he notices, he thankfully doesn’t comment.

“Fine. Melt.” You heave an exasperated sigh when he still doesn’t move. Climbing onto a nearby pool raft, you turn your attention back to your companion. “Jesus, you guys are always so serious, like all of the time. I mean, what’s wrong with having a little fun?”

“Alright.” That’s all you get before he reaches to pull his shirt over his head, revealing the sculpted body hiding beneath.

You scarcely have the chance to appreciate the sight before you’re treated to the sound of a splash. You let out a squeal as water goes splashing everywhere, rewetting your already rapidly drying body. Seconds later, Ari’s head breaks through the water.

“Happy now, princess?” He disappears again, only to reappear closer to where you’re currently lounging.

“Depends.”

“On?” He asks, seemingly content to tread water alongside you. You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t at least admit that the man was kind of attractive.

Or, as your friends had put it, sexy as hell. Yeah, you weren’t quite sure how you felt about that one.

“Well…” You hedge, giggling when he splashes you to encourage you to hurry up.

“Out with it, Clover. A closed mouth doesn’t get fed.” Or fucked. He silently adds.

“There’s this party I kinda wanted to go to tonight. All my friends will be there and I haven't really had the chance to celebrate my birthday with them yet.” You finish, your teeth going to worry your bottom lip.

Ari studies you for a moment as he tries to figure out the best way to respond. “What did Uncle Steve and the others say?” He already knew that you'd asked them, and he wanted to make it clear that he’s not one to be so easily manipulated. “I’m assuming you asked them first.”

“They said “maybe”. Well, two of them did anyway. But then they left without ever giving me a real answer.”

“I see.” He offers you a cheeky grin while pausing to swat at a wayward fly. “Maybe we should call them. See if they’ve finally made up their minds–.”

“No!” You shoot straight up on your perch, accidently flipping the raft and sending you tumbling back into the icy cool water. You come up sputtering and coughing, and while you can’t quite tell, you’re also fairly certain that Ari is laughing at you.

“You all good?”

“Yeah.” You gag, hating the taste of chlorine.

Ari nods before moving to retrieve your float. He’s even kind enough to hold it still long enough for you to climb back on it again. Only once he’s satisfied that you’re secure does he seem interested in continuing the conversation.

“So…it sounds like you really wanna go to this party. Don’t you, Clover?”

“Yes.” You breathe, refusing to say anything more than that just in case he was actually considering it. You’re so desperate that you don’t even balk when he begins swimming towards the edge of the pool, dragging you along with him. He doesn’t speak again until he’s reached his destination.

“Tell me, will there be any drinking at this party?”

“Wha–no!”

“Now’s not the time to lie to me, princess. Will people be drinking at this party?” He reaches up to cup your chin, his brilliant blue eyes boring into yours as if he's attempting to unravel all of your secrets.

One by one.

“I swear! Grace’s parents would positively kill her if they found out she threw that kind of party.”

Ari quietly mulls over your answer before deeming it to be honest enough for his liking. “How about boys?”

Fuck. While you couldn’t be honest, you also didn’t want to lie. Not when you were this close to getting what you wanted. Which was freedom.

“Her little brother will be there. He’s a couple grades below us. But it's not like she can kick him out or anything.”

“Just her little brother, huh?” You could tell he was feeling more than a little skeptical. However, you’re surprised when he seemingly lets it slide. Releasing his grip on your chin, he gives you a little push, content to let you float away.

“I swear. We can’t do anything too crazy with him around – he’d rat us out sooo fast.”

Please believe me. Please believe me. Please believe me.

Holding your breath, you watch as he climbs out of the water. He makes a beeline for your towel, patting himself dry to the best of his ability before draping it over his shoulder.

“Okay, sweetheart. I might be willing to make an executive decision on this one, provided you’re willing to do something for me in return. Something that’ll keep at least some of the heat off of me when it comes to dealing with Steve and the boys.”

What you didn't know was that they had already discussed your desire to attend this party – him, Bucky, Andy, and Steve – and they'd decided that the answer was "no". But since you'd gone the last couple days without throwing a tantrum, Ari felt inclined to give you what you wanted. It also helped that he found your bratty ways to be rather endearing.

So long as you weren't outrightly disrespectful.

“Anything.” The word flies out of your mouth before you can catch it. And just like that, that damn tick in his jaw is back.

“The only way I feel comfortable enough letting you go is if you promise to text me every 30 minutes. Doesn’t have to be long. Just a message to let me and the other guys know you’re okay.”

What the hell?

You open your mouth to protest before deciding you’re better off not. Right now, you’d take the win and try to renegotiate the rest later.

“Take it or leave it, princess.”

“I’ll take it!” You reply, albeit probably a little too enthusiastically. “Thank you so much!”

Ari doesn’t even crack a smile. Instead that damned tick of his only seems to grow even more pronounced. “Alright.” With that, he turns and begins striding towards the door. “I’ll, uh…I’ll get you another towel.” He pauses once he reaches his destination, turning to face you once more.

“And Clover?”

“Yeah?” You call back, feeling happier than you have in almost two whole weeks.

“Don’t make me regret this." Ari rumbles, allowing you to get a good, long look at his muscled, hair covered chest. "I'd hate for my kindness to come back and bite me in the ass. It would be a shame to start the summer off on such a bad note.”

“I…”

His words leave you so speechless that you can only watch as Ari proceeds to waltz through the sliding door, leaving you outside all alone once more. But not before reiterating his promise to bring you another towel so that you can get ready for lunch.

“Well, fuck…” Is all you can muster before rolling yourself off your float and into the cooling expanse of the water. You swim down to the bottom, touching the floor with both hands as you work to center yourself.

You hold your breath for as long as you’re able before the need for oxygen forces you to resurface. As you greedily gulp air into your burning lungs you tell yourself not to give a fuck about Ari and his bullshit. Instead, you decide to focus on the most important aspect of tonight, namely…

Just what in the hell were you going to wear?

END

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sagesskies · 1 year ago

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ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛ

✒ ɴᴏᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘᴀʀᴛ

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇʀᴇʟʏ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴢᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇʟᴀʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2 ᴏꜰ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀʏ ɢᴏᴅ, ʜᴇ ᴀꜱꜱᴜʀᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ ꜰɪɴɪꜱʜᴇᴅ. ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ.

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʜᴏᴍᴏᴘʜᴏʙɪᴀ, ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ [ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ɪꜱ ʜɪꜱ ʙᴇᴀʀᴅ], ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴏᴋɪɴɢ, ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ ꜱʜᴇɴᴀɴɪɢᴀɴꜱ, ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍɪʟᴅ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴅᴜʙᴄᴏɴ, ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟꜱᴇ!

Yandere Spirit who was your secret boyfriend in high school. A forbidden romance between two youths, who often got to keep their secret because it’d always be excused as just ‘Boys being boys’. He was the most popular boy in school, his older brother was just as popular, but he was even more so.

Yandere Spirit who was good looking, kind hearted, intelligent, and athletically talented as well. You never knew how you were able to get with a guy like him, you were simply another guy on the track team, and he was not only the team’s star but also the captain.

Yandere Spirit who was possessive of you, even in life. He’d always claim you as his partner for group projects, even if there were smarter kids in class, and whenever there was an opportunity he'd always insist you wear his track jacket that had his last name on the back.

Yandere Spirit who still dated other girls, and you tried not to mind so much. They were just a cover, he told you that and you knew it to be true, both of you were aware of what happened to gay boys in this town. He understood more than you, because his older brother Tommy was one of them, and he ran away when he was seventeen.

Yandere Spirit who remains oblivious to how much his behavior with his girlfriends bother you. You never liked how he was always so physically intimate with them. Yeah, it'd be expected of a couple but did he have to do it so much? God, you can't bear to watch this.

Yandere Spirit who always notices how you distance yourself from him whenever he has a new girlfriend, and one day confronts you about it.

“Cmoon, [Name], why won't you just tell me!” Raphael practically whines, he refused to let go of your hand. You were both part of the track and field team but with his strength you'd argue he could be a football player.

When you still didn't reply, he huffs, looks around to see if anybody else was around, then pulls you in close, perching his head on top of yours despite your protests.

“Please babe?” God you never liked it when he called you babe, but you let him anyway, “Tell me what's bothering you…” He sounds like he's near to tears but you keep your lips shut.

“Raph, seriously I'm fine,” You insist, even though you're really not.

The whole day, you had to hang around Raphael and his new girlfriend. It wasn't so bad, Raph made sure that you were included in the conversation and his girl, Cheryl you think her name was, was actually very nice.

Your problem with the situation was seeing your boyfriend being all sweet and cuddly with his new beard the same way he always was with you. Well, there was the fact that he was technically cheating on you- But that's not the big issue here!

Unfortunately for you, you shared a good quarter of your classes with the two lovebirds, and eventually you just distanced yourself from them till you were able to handle the sight of the two of them together.

Even more unfortunately, was Raph's clinginess to you. When he saw you start to drift away, he immediately pulled you back in and when you decided to just ignore them as best as possible without looking rude, he caught on to that too.

“Ugh, I know you're lying [Name],” Raphael pouted, “Come on, remember how we promised each other no secrets between us? Don't tell me you forgot!”

You rolled your eyes, “Anybody would forget Raph, you made me say it in the 2nd grade.”

“Still!” He protested, “Just tell me already [Name].” You could feel his grip get tighter around you, he was getting impatient.

“Was it something I did?” Yes.

“Does it have to do with Cheryl?” Yes.

“Oh come on, don't tell me you're jealous of her!” It was Raph’s turn to roll his eyes, “Babe you know I'm only using her as a cover.”

You glared at him, “Doesn't mean you have to be so touchy with her.”

“She's my new girlfriend,” He used air quotes when he said the word girlfriend, “Gonna have to act like I’m head over heels for her to sell the act.”

You knew he was right, he was saying the exact same things you told yourself whenever you tried to stop the ugly green monster that was envy from rearing its head.

“Besides, don’t you think you kinda deserve it?”

Your eyes widen, and you frown, “What? What do you mean?” Raphael shrugged, “I mean, you’re always tusslin’ and getting all up close with the other guys in the team,” His voice had a bitter edge to it, “I’m your boyfriend,” His hold on you strengthened, “It’s like I’m forced to watch you feel up all these other guys when the only ass you should be groping is mine.”

“Do you hear how silly you sound right now?” You deadpanned, “It’s just guys being guys, most of us have been wrestling each other since we were kids.”

He groans, “Ugh, but that doesn’t change that they still get to touch you so much!”

You sigh, perhaps you and him weren’t so different after all. Not when both of you were so petty as to get jealous because of just, a really plain stupid reason.

So you pat him on the back, and comfort him like you would a child throwing a tantrum. Till he stops whining, and you apologize to each other, then you continue to pretend that it doesn’t bother you when he presses a kiss to a girl’s lips, when he holds her hand, or even plays with her hair.

And you pretend like he’s not playing with your heart.

Yandere Spirit who you watch as he competes with his brother Gabriel over your younger sister, a popular junior who was vice-captain of the cheerleading team. Sometimes when he kisses you, you can’t help but think that this is the same tongue that flirts with your sister.

Yandere Spirit who you accompany when his brother tells him to meet in the woods near Varenway cliff. Sure he was told to go alone, but you never trusted Gabe, he was always too intense for your liking. It was why he’d never be as popular as his brother.

Yandere Spirit who you can only watch as he gets into a fight with his brother, held back by the stronger arms of Gabe’s football teammates who tease and mock you all while assuring Gabe won’t hurt Raphael too badly.

You thrash in their grip like a wild animal refusing to be caged, you kick at their feet, try to slam your head back into their stupid faces, but regardless of your attempts you are still stuck.

“Let go of me, you assholes!” You practically spit.

One of them, your classmate Sam Moss, sneers at you, then turns to his friend, who you recognize as Luke Herring, “Should we let [Name] go Luke?”

Luke lets out a dumb laugh, “Huhuhu, naahh,” His tone is calm like an afternoon breeze, but his eyes are filled with only malice, “I don’t think we should Sam.”

You click your tongue and tune out the rest of their words, they think they’re so intimidating just because they hang around Gabe, who nobody dares to pick a fight with, but they’re nothing more but tiny little pups who think the wolf’s shadow is their own.

Instead you focus your gaze onto Raphael, who moves quicker than Gabe, but whenever a hit is able to land, it lands hard. Your heart clenches when you see the newly forming bruise above Raph’s brow, his busted lip, but you force yourself to remain silent. Raph can handle himself, and you hated to admit to it but Sam and Luke were right, Gabe may be dumb but he wasn’t that dumb to let Raph get seriously hurt.

But still, for every hit that Raph gets in, Gabe lands another solid punch. Raph’s blood stains Gabe’s fists, and his beautiful face is marred. Gabe himself does not even need to catch his breath, the only evidence of exhaustion is a light sheen of sweat.

You feel a sharp tug on your head, and you wince, Luke grabs your hair and has a look of anger on his face.

“Little shit, fuckin’ pay attention to us damnit!” His spit flies in your face, and you grimace, “Should fuckin’ teach you a lesson for such disrespect.”

Sam cackles like a hyena, “Ha! I don’t think Gabe would mind us roughin’ this arrogant prick up a bit,” In his eyes there is a hunger for violence, and you suppress the urge to shiver, you get what your mother means now when she says that men are like animals. You’ve never felt more like prey before now.

You try to ignore them, and the fear that slowly builds in your chest, to get one last glimpse at Raph. But all you see is his head hanging low, and being grabbed by Gabe, whose bruised hands are curled tightly around his collar, before you are thrown down into the floor, and Luke gets on top of you.

His sleeves are pulled back, and he draws back his fist for a punch, but before he can Sam who is still watching the fight, gasps, and Luke turns to see what has happened. Their eyes widen, but all you can hear that tells you of what just happened is a distant sickening crunch.

Luke gets off of you and both he and Sam run to Gabe, who is looking down the cliff. Where is Raph?

You get up, legs shaky for a bit before you steel your resolve and steady, you voice your thoughts, “Where's Raph?”

When you get no response, the fear that was building from the fear of Luke getting his meaty hands on you is now growing from the possibility that Gabe let his anger get the best of him. At the thought of it, it is not only fear budding within you, but also anger.

You march over to Gabe, and with strength you didn’t have before you grab him by the back of his collar and turn him around so you and him were now eye-to-eye, “Did you push him off, Gabriel?” Your voice is shaky, from fury, from anxiety, from both, you do not know. When you receive no response, you grit your teeth, and shake him violently, “Answer me, you bastard!”

Gabriel’s eyes go wide, and his mouth parts but there are no words that leave his lips. But then he nods, and your sudden burst of strength fizzles away, and your hands let go of him. You walk, one step backward, another, and then another, and you fall on your own bottom, and your hands go to your head. Raph loved to do the same thing, hand going to the top of your head and holding it gently, sometimes just laying there together, his hand on your head and both of you quiet together.

You cannot let them see your tears, you cannot. But the dam breaks, and you start to sob.

You hear them speak, Gabe, Sam, and Luke. However, you don’t want to listen to them. They killed him. Sam and Luke had less blood on their hands, but they were the ones who restrained you. If they didn’t then- Then maybe you could- You could… You don’t know. You don’t know, you don’t know.

Gabe is standing in front of you, arms crossed, “Get up, [L/N],” His voice was gruff, nothing like Raph’s who always sounded like he was singing or speaking poetry, “Unless you want to end up like Raph did, you’ll do as I say.” Gabe was cruel too, nothing like Raph.

Hesitantly, you get up, and wipe away the tears on your face. Sam and Luke who were looking at you like you were no better than the dirt on their shoe, now look at you with slight pity. It was no secret in school that you and Raphael were the best of friends, but they wouldn’t be looking at you so if they knew what you two were really like.

You go down the cliff with them, traversing through the steep and rocky terrain. Till you arrived at the bottom, where Raph’s body lay. The blood had stopped flowing by then, or perhaps there was simply too much to look like there was more accumulating. Luke covers the bottom half of his face, Sam turns his head away, and only you and Gabe can look at the corpse.

You glance at him, his face is like stone. You wonder if he regrets what he’s done tonight over your sister, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him without feeling like bile was going to start creeping up your throat.

You help them carry the body deeper into the woods, Luke and Sam go to get the shovel Sam’s dad always kept in the back of his truck, and you are left with the boy who killed your lover.

Both of you are silent, and your eyes go to look at his bruised knuckles stained with Raph’s blood. You must’ve been staring because he glares at you, “What? You wanna join Raph in his grave?”

You know you should stay silent, but you’ve had enough of that.

“It’d be better than having to bury him, that’s for sure,” You snarl out, you want to sock him across the face, but you’d have less impact than Raphael did, “You’re a monster.”

“He got what was coming to him,” Gabriel clenched his fists, “If it wouldn’t be me, it may have been you.”

You flinch, “The hell are you talking about Gabe?” You? Kill Raph? If that was meant to be a joke it wasn’t very funny. But Gabe had the same amount of charm as a donkey’s ass so it probably shouldn’t have surprised you.

“You think I’m blind, [L/N]?” A smirk forms on his face, it looks like Raphael's but at the same time it couldn’t be more different, “Everybody’s seen how you look at him and his girlfriends.”

Your heart raced, did- Did he know? Did everybody know? If so, why weren’t you getting picked on? Raphael may have been the most popular guy in school, but even he would get harassed by some jerk.

“You don’t get to chastise me for shit like this when you’re jealous of all the girls he gets,” At first you’re surprised he knows the word chastise, but when he accuses you of that, you laugh. You laugh like you would at a joke Raphael made, and when you realize that you start to cry.

Gabe looks like he’s going to make fun of you, but thinks better of it when he sees the tears racing down your face and makes an expression of discomfort.

Sam and Luke return, and by that time you’ve dried your tears. Gabe and Luke, the stronger ones, start to dig the grave, and Sam lights a cigarette. He hesitates, and then offers you one, a peace offering of sorts.

You take it, even if you’ve never smoked before, and you cough as the smoke fills your lungs.

“Sorry about Raphael,” He says, there is no cruelty, there is no mockery, only remorse for the blood that has been spilled, “Didn’t know him much, but I knew you two were close.”

You take another puff, and you cough less this time, “It shouldn’t be you who’s apologizing,” You glare at Gabriel, who is digging his own twin brother’s grave. Sam follows your gaze, and he purses his lips, but then he nods.

You crush the cigarette under your shoe, and go to Raphael’s cold corpse. Your eyes scan over him, his eyes are open, the once vibrant green now hollow and empty. You close his eyes. Before you stand back up, you see a familiar glint of steel. The necklace he told you was gifted by his mother.

You take it off his neck, the cross dangling at the end gleaming even in the dark, then place it in your pocket.

Eventually Gabriel and Luke finish up, and you and Sam pick up Raphael’s body and then settle him gently into the grave.

You take one last look at his face, burning it into your mind. He is beautiful even when his face is bloody and bruised. You want to weep again, your tears would wash away the filth from his face, but they would not bring him back.

Yandere Spirit who invades your dreams every single night. He holds you close and what was once a warm embrace, is now a cold and stiff cage. Even if it is a dream you can smell the iron from the blood on his skin, and the earthy odor of the soil he was buried in.

Yandere Spirit whose search you volunteer for. Even if it is only to avoid suspicion. You’re paired with Gabe and his younger brother Amos Jr., and the silence is filled with Junior’s ceaseless chatter. You pity the young boy, who shouldn’t have to search for his brother who he doesn’t even know is dead.

When you go near the spot you buried Raph, your gaze immediately meets Gabe’s and a silent agreement goes between you two. Do not let Junior find the grave.

But despite your best efforts, the boy does, and you can only watch while Gabe threatens him to keep his mouth shut. You're sick, and you haven’t eaten anything all day. You tell Gabe and Junior to go ahead, and then puke your guts out near Raph’s grave.

You hold on to a tree, and sob. The taste of vomit, still on your tongue. The wind blows through your hair, it feels like Raph’s gentle caress. You swear you even hear his voice, whispering to you that it's all going to be okay, that he’ll make things better, that Gabe would pay for what he’s done.

Time passes by. You attend Raphael’s funeral. You study, and go to your classes. You run, run faster than you’ve ever ran. You run faster than even Raph, who you’ve replaced as the track team captain. You wear his necklace every day, and you’d never take it off if you could help it.

Sometimes you swear you hear him, whispering into your ear. Every night you feel like he’s holding you as well, but his touch is cold, yet it still brings you comfort after every nightmare where his bloody corpse stares at you from the shallow grave Gabe made for him.

You start to isolate yourself, especially when the comforting touches become rough and possessive when you spend too much time with anybody else. You make small talk with your classmate? Ghostly fingers dig their nails into your skin. You roughhouse with your friends? Cold arms wrap themselves around your waist so tight you feel like it’s getting crushed. You get hit on by a girl? Suddenly she’s got a cold look in her eyes and leaves mid sentence.

When you graduate, you don’t attend any parties, and you’re not invited to many other than the ones hosted by your track teammates. Gabe invites you to one, surprisingly, but when Raph wraps himself possessively around you, you know you’re not leaving the house tonight.

You don’t sleep that night either, not when Raph’s hands grope your bare flesh, sensitive against his cool touch. You swear you can see him, blood still staining his skin, his eyes are vacant but at the same time hazy with lust. He whimpers, and whines, panting into your ear.

“Feels good.”

“Nngh, sooo warm.”

“Need you, need you, need you.”

“Love you, love you ‘s much.”

“Never letting you go, n- ha.. not even death can separate us.”

You feel dirty, like you’re being used. But you let him continue, you deserve this. Don’t you? You didn’t help him. You were too weak to help him. If only you were stronger, maybe it wouldn’t be his ghost on top of you right now but it’d be him in the flesh. Body just as warm as yours, a beautiful red flush on his sun kissed skin. You’d trace over every freckle, every small childhood scar, and hold him close to you till the sun rose.

But instead, your only company is the freezing form of Raph’s specter as he desperately clings to the comfort of your warmth, to feel alive again. And he’s never leaving you.

“...You’re mine, mine, [Name],” His frigid whispers send a shiver down your spine, “You are mine even in death.”

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ.

#yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere imagines #male yandere #male reader #x reader #yandere #Raphael Shepherd

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kneelingshadowsalome · 2 years ago

Note

I have an odd request… perhaps a captain price fic where the reader is much younger and edgy- likeee covered in tats and stuff,, and price isn’t rly used to that but finds it hot as hell… idk maybe they work together ?? Smut ensues …

IDK I have tatts and wonder what he’d think of that 👹👹

Just an idea 💡❤️😫

Fire it Up (John Price x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.8 k

Tags/warnings: Smut 🔞 mutual pining, flirting, swearing, older man/younger woman dynamic, forbidden love, smoking & drinking, voice kink, a tiny brat taming kink squeezed itself in here too. Reader has tattoos and works as a coder at the base. Rough ~10yrs age gap described, reader is of age I hope to god it goes without saying (Price is canonically 37) Also: no use of 'daddy' in this fic

A/N: I'm so glad for this request anon and I hope you like what I made! Also people please be gentle, this is my first Price fic 🥹 God I wish I could attach the fat scent of cigar here to give you the full experience.

You don't know what caught your attention first.

The cigar, perhaps. Or the beard? Might be his hips, the ass that tells you this man can fuck a woman for hours.

Or maybe it's the fact that he's too old for you.

No, not too old…

Just older than you. A decade, perhaps, if you were being gentle with him and lenient with yourself.

He certainly isn't old enough to be your father, but he wasn't the type of man your eyes usually drifted on either.

He looks like someone who's supposed to be fishing in Alaska, sucking that fat cigar while taking in the view of mountains while trying to catch wild fish in some wide, free stream.

He's supposed to come home to a remote cabin: to his little wife who pours him a scotch after he has shown her what he caught today. Make sweet love to her while stars shoot and speckle the indigo night.

He looks like someone who makes love to women.

You, on the other hand, want to ride with him to the sunset on the back of a Harley, clutch his jacket as he drives you to some bizarre highway motel. You want to watch him drink that scotch from your navel.

You'd do all kinds of crazy shit with him, keep his head between your legs with both hands, grind all over that mustache, and see how wet it gets. You want him to pound you with those narrow hips, take you from behind while you look back with parted, swollen lips and relish the sight of what must be a grown man's hardened body, covered with hair and scars and–

"The bug's still there."

You return to reality, look at the code on your screen, and then at your colleague, a 20-something bloke who looks at you with the lethargic stare that only belongs to techies. You've just been caught daydreaming your eyes off in the middle of a lazy afternoon. Coffee doesn't do shit after 2 PM…

"Yeah I know. I'm working on it," you say. But when the dude leaves, you decide it's time for a creative break. You tell yourself it's only because the code jumps on the screen, not because you hope to catch a certain someone smoking outside.

The leather jacket is a little too much these days, but you throw it on out of pure habit. You realize the weight of your mistake when you go outside from the ventilated building and notice the sweltering heat. Spring has finally turned into summer.

Coffee doesn’t do shit, but it’s time for another kind of wakey-wakey. And butterflies are a funny term for something that mainly feels like it’s eating your insides out of pure excitement.

Because he's here too.

Jonathan Price, although no one calls him Jonathan. Few call him John, either.

Mostly, he goes by the title Captain.

He's stressed; you can tell. But his eyes soften immediately when they fall on you, a brief look to the side, just to know who else comes out to have a breath of fresh air or a smoke. He looks like he's been expecting you, but that might only be a silly girl's daydream. You two share a vice, and you've never been more grateful for your bad habit before this place and him.

And you wouldn't call it necessarily a bad habit. It's simply stress relief if you do it once or twice every few weeks. It's not like you smoke two packs a day. It's not like you even smoke one cig per day.

Although ever since you started this odd little job in this odd little place, you've smoked one or two nearly every day… And it's not because of the stress.

It's because of Price.

John. You’d like to see his reaction to you moaning that word in his ear…

"How long have you been here?"

His eyes are still on you, mouth covered by a hand as he makes love to his cigar. And that bedroom voice always gets you. It's better than the upcoming slow drag of nicotine. You're not here for tobacco at all.

"Two weeks." You reach for your excuse and try to prevent your hands from trembling as you light the cig. Usually, you're not this shy with people. Not with men, anyway. But with him, your wits and words disappear.

You blow the smoke through the air with a quick, lively wisp where he lets it roll out his tongue in a heavy cloud. He's still watching you as if to weigh what kind of woman you are exactly.

"How about you?" You continue the small talk with nervous ease.

He chuckles; the little smile even shows a flash of teeth as he steals a look at the clouds, calculating years with those surprisingly lively eyebrows curled up toward the sky.

"Ages."

He's not that old. Perhaps well over his thirties, might be knocking his forties. The statement is merely an underline of his stress today. You can only wonder what kind of pressure the captain of Task Force 141 is under when you get sleepless nights from a stupid source code. There are a few wrinkles around his eyes, but they only tell you that this man smiles a lot. He might be the only one in this compound who smiles a lot.

"Have you ever tried a cigar?"

There's a glint in his eyes as he offers the thick roll of tobacco to you. It's suddenly difficult to breathe, difficult to even keep your thoughts together.

"No," you shake your head as if your answer wasn't enough to tell him he's the first person ever to offer you such a thing. Then you realize the word does not precisely deliver your eagerness to try that stout cigar.

"Would love to," you hurry to add with a soft smile. "Can I have a taste?"

He walks to you slowly, and your eyes drop to those hips, which sway like he's purposely trying to seduce you.

Fu–ck…

Then your eyes sink even lower, between his legs, to his fucking junk, and it's too fucking late–

Jesus–get your shit together…

You force your eyes back to his and see the little glimmer in them gain a surprised spark – you're totally caught red-handed on checking him out.

Fuck. How can you be so stu–

"Gently then, kid."

You swallow your heart and thoughts down and take the offered cigar; of course, your first thought is how thick and heavy it is. And somehow, you decide right then and there that you will no longer be the nervous, hot-cheeked woman on the corner.

It's time to make him flustered.

So you take a hollow-cheeked, slow suck on the fat cigar. A chaste, savory taste, more like, but there's nothing chaste in the way you raise your eyes to his, putting every ounce of soft seduction in that stare.

He draws breath slowly – his face is full of expression for an allegedly cold-hearted elite soldier. You don't know how often women flirt with this hunk of a man, but he sure looks taken aback by your sudden play. Probably thinks you're too young for him – and you curse the second time you put that jacket on. You want to see his reaction to your sleeves.

"Mm. It's thicker than I thought," you weigh the cigar between your fingertips and let the smoke roll out your mouth. The man switches his weight from one foot to another, speechless, and you suppress a big beam of a smile.

"The taste," you emphasize as if innocent, as if you didn't see that shocked little shift. "Round, and… god, it's almost sweet."

You smile as you give it back, and he chuffs an approving laugh through his nose – those eyes are bear-warm playful now, his mouth curves into an easy smile.

"Nice," you look him up and down as if you're talking about the man and not the cigar.

"Beats those little sticks."

His voice drops down a few notes; it's almost a husky growl. You barely make out the words he's saying. The tension in the air could form little balls of lightning around you, the flirt is over the roof, and there's even no roof because you're outside – and you take your jacket off, slowly, to make it clear it's summer and not spring.

His eyes fall on the ink immediately, and he blinks a few times, draws some more breath – you tweet your thanks accompanied by another smile and go back inside.

You know he's checking your ass in those black jeans as you walk away.

….....

It doesn't end there.

You see him again and again and again, and at some point you realize he has to walk almost 100 meters from the other end of the base to get to the little corner where the two of you smoke.

He's intrigued but decent. Holds a distance, never says anything that could be taken in the wrong way – or even in the right way. But he's fucking you with his eyes.

No… making love to you.

And it drives you crazy.

You don't want that. You don't need that. To be that little wife in the cabin. Pouring him a drink, climbing in his lap, ghosting a finger down the stubble on his chin, see how wide and proud it makes him smile to hold you like you're his and his alone...

God. When did it come to this?

You suck on his fat cigar every now and then. Look him in the eyes while you do it. Once, it makes his tongue dart out, it wets his bottom lip, and then he does that thing with his mouth... the thing where he kind of purses his lips and it makes the mustache dip, and you realize, you learn it's a sign that he's restless, he's flustered.

You make the big, burly captain of Task Force 141 flustered.

And he doesn't smell like the people inside smell. Of stale coder sweat and Joy Division and soft drinks and mommy's home-cooked meals. He smells of rich forest and fine bourbon and half-burnt gasoline. Maybe Saxon on vinyl. Definitely beats those little sticks that are your nerdy co-workers at the hacker department, as you call it.

He may have a flask somewhere; perhaps he takes a sip or two every now and then, whether at work or not. And you don't blame him. Even with those laugh lines and that brown bear benevolence, you can tell he's seen things.

You wonder what he's like out there in the field. Brutal? Or just efficient?

He never asks about your tattoos, but he eyes them often. There's a certain admiring esteem in his stare. He's checking you out, scratches his chin, and rips his eyes off when they start to drift down. He forces his eyes to stay above your neckline no matter the cost. You mourn that you got rid of the septum a few years ago: you're pretty sure he would've liked that, too. After all, it's a piercing that screams 'warrior' the most. Break after break, you return to your desk, aroused and giddy and surrounded by the rich, masculine aroma of his cigar.

One night, he drives by when you're walking home after what was supposed to be one or two pints.

The car is a big, black pick-up, and when it slows down and starts to inch by your side, your first reaction is a silent curse of why the fuck don't you carry some pepper spray in your pocket.

"Hey, you ok?"

Your head rises from the asphalt the second you recognize that smooth, pleasant voice of a man you had compared every guy to at the pub that evening. The whole man is brimming with burnt sienna, he's hard alcohol with no ice…

You stop and turn, a little wobbly from the pint turned to two or three. Or four.

"Yeah. Had a little girl's night out."

The car rumbles softly, not two meters away, and the sound reminds you of his voice. A soft purr that can turn into a growl, even a roar if he wants to.

He looks like he's going fishing, even without the boonie hat. The dark hair is cut short, so you won't have anything to tug if he ever ends up between your legs. But you don't really mourn that fact, because he looks so damn good.

He looks you up and down, and you notice the briefest blob of his Adam's apple before he gives you another offer.

"Want me to give you a ride?"

Would love a ride.

Would fucking love to ride you.

"Sure. That's kind of you."

Your eyes must be sparkling like the fucking stars.

"No problem at all," he leans his elbow on the open window and waits while you round the car and get in. You try to tone down your drunken state, but your moves are a little too brash for a calm and collected coder lady this man has usually caught leaning against the wall of the workplace you two share.

"Did you have fun?"

He sounds like a dad picking up his girl from a school disco, and you purse your lips in slight distaste and amusement.

"Yeah. You know how it is when someone asks you for a pint."

He gives a short laugh and starts to drive. "That never ends well."

You smile and turn to look at him.

"Mm… This one kinda did."

You enjoy the brief look out the window, the sight of someone so formidable and robust and experienced trying to find his way out by feigning something caught his attention in the black, empty distance of a quiet city.

"Glad I could be of service," he brushes off your flirt like it's nothing more than a speckle of dust on his coat.

The rest of the ride is silent, too silent. He turns the music off in case it "bothers you," and it turns into an awkward, overly polite fight about whether to keep it on or not.

It's a minor shock to notice he was listening to some classical. Not 80's rock, not country, not even BBC. He was just soothing his nerves.

You can't put your finger on what makes you feel so sheepish around this man – usually, you put men on a leash with a few dry jokes and a hearty laugh or two. Now, your flirting is shy and does nothing: there's a wall built up, and from behind that wall, only a few stolen looks…

The pick-up is humming, the engine is running at idle next to your place far too soon, and it's time you get off the car – but you have vehemently decided you will knock down that fucking wall even if you have to drag him to your bed.

"You wanna come up and have a nightcap?"

Another look out the window as he raises his hand over his mouth, fiddles with his mustache, and avoids the rising heat between you two.

"Thanks, kid. But you need to sleep."

Your heart is pumping, and you feel like a harasser as you place your hand on his thigh.

He doesn't move, but you can hear the audible swallow this time. He doesn't move a single finger even when you slide your palm down that leg, then drag it over to the inner thigh, and start to drift back up slowly, slowly, to give him the time and space to stop you before you reach….

….the visible bulge between those legs, the absolutely gorgeous, ample bump pulling at those pants, something so delicious that you must fight tooth and nail not to race your hand up there and give it a fond grope.

His hand falls over yours just before you reach it.

"Kid. Let's leave it here and call it a night."

His voice is strained and tight, and he's still looking out the window. You don't move your hand away because he doesn't move it away. His warmth stays there, keeping you against him, and you feel like shit for thinking it's not a no… That it's a yes when he seems to hold your hand as a prisoner, wanting to feel your dainty little palm against him.

Your fingers curl slightly, a hopeful gesture to imagine how it would feel to curl and claw at his hips and that ass while he's fucking you.

"Listen. You're a nice girl. A very nice–"

You give a heavy, demonstrative sigh and finally draw your hand away.

"Come on Cap… You're seriously going to give me the "you're a nice girl" talk?"

Finally, he turns. His nostrils quiver as he tries to keep his breaths calm. Your lips part like it's a whole caress he just gave you – and his gaze drops to your mouth instantly. You start to see where the problem is.

You're too young.

You're forbidden.

"I offered you a nightcap," you tilt your head slightly. "You can come up or you can go home."

You wet your lips, give the bottom lip a tiny little bite, and offer him the last, inviting, soft smile. It must hold an equal amount of sorrow because you can't drown the bitter feeling of rejection, no matter how many drinks you've had that night. No matter how much he seems to want you, it doesn't change the fact that he's apparently decided to stay strong and keep his hands off the cookie jar.

You turn and get out of the car, lean on the door for the final fucking time...

"Didn't know I'd only get to suck your cigar... You're all smoke and no fire, Price."

The door flies closed with a louder slam than you originally meant.

Now that was a little bit passive-aggressive, you have to admit. But you're drunk, and he's being a pain in the ass, calling you a kid, looking at you like that, having a fucking hard-on and giving you nothing.

…But it does the trick.

You smile like an idiot when you walk to your place and hear the purr of the engine stop. Another car door opens, then closes, wide footsteps follow you…

A nightcap it is, then.

He looks even bigger when inside a place with walls and a roof. He stands inside your apartment tall and wide as if he's waiting to call attention. Those large hands are over his crotch, concealing the swell of erection you already saw in the car.

You know the tank top you wear reveals even more skin covered in tats as you throw your jacket away and go get him that drink. The glasses glide on your table, slide nearly to the floor, and the bottle of Jim Beam meets the counter with a devastating clank. You look at the excuse to get him into your place and sigh.

"You know what… Fuck this."

Offering cheap bourbon to someone like him seems a bit ridiculous. So you offer him something he might actually like. Something he actually came here for.

You walk to him and throw your hands around him – he stiffens from the middle but looks down at you with a heated glimmer in those eyes. You could've sworn they were charred brown, the same color as his cigar, but up close you see they're actually molten iron. Mercurial.

"You sure about this?" He asks softly.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He unclasps those hands from over his groin, and the warmest weight falls to rest on your waist, even steals a caress to your hip. You want to hurl yourself at him, press yourself against his crotch and grind until you bleed from just that tiny touch he finally gives you.

"You've had one too many, love."

Love…

Shit.

The warmth spreads from his eyes, from that hand, from the word that rolls out of his mouth like a beautiful puff of smoke. It unfurls inside your heart, swells inside your throat, plummets to your groin, and you switch the weight to your other leg to feel how that hand gains more weight as it gets pressed more firmly against you.

"Doesn't change the fact that I want you."

Your voice is nothing short of a purr. When have you ever purred like that to a man? You sound like a housecat, tame and adoring, waiting for a gourmet meal.

"You really want an old man?"

He still has that reserve in his eyes, decent and distant, but underneath, you sense a terrible heat, like the glow of a cigar lit in darkness, an adamant smolder that never dies out.

"You're not that old."

Your purr turns into a deprived meow. You dangle from his neck, and the smoke, the fire that surrounds him, blends into the gentle scent of a man, the musk of a mature beast. You know he's hairy under those clothes; he fucking has to be. The vision of how his cock must look, surrounded by untame, coarse fur, has tormented you night after night.

And now he's finally here. In your apartment.

You skate your hands over his chest while slowly dropping into a squat, then languidly kneeling in front of his crotch.

He doesn't stop you, not even when you open his belt and the zipper and crawl your fingers down the waistband of his underwear. You have to stifle a delighted gasp upon seeing how his cock springs free and stands proud in front of you in all its glory. And fuck yes he's hairy – the hairiest man you've ever had.

Cigars feel like tiny little sticks when you wrap one hand around him and lick the weeping slit like it's your favorite ice cream. The groan that follows is a husky eruption above you and gets stuck in his throat as you take him in your mouth.

"Fucking hell, kid…"

He's thick, broad, and the musk fills your nostrils, but what he just said makes you pull back and whisper on the bulbous tip–

"Don't call me a kid," you breathe on his cock, swirl your tongue around him, and his thighs bunch. "Old man."

You finally manage to push some buttons.

The back of his hand brushes your cheek, then slides over to your throat. He's gentle but firm as he forces a thumb under your chin, curls fingers around your neck as if you're a cat who's about to be force-fed some medicine that's only good for her.

"Is that how you wanna play it?"

His thumb brushes down the ridge of your throat. Tentative, promising.

"Perhaps," your lips quiver with anticipation as you smile; your voice is a pitched vibrato before it drops, just to give him a reason to put you in your place... "Old gum–"

The hand pulls up, the grip tightens just enough to guide you back to your feet and up to meet his face.

"Didn't know you asked me here to tame a brat."

Fuck…

You almost moan.

The hand doesn't choke you; it makes love to you. Claims you as his.

"Really…?" You sigh. Flash him a filthy, guiltless smile.

The fire surges forth and nearly buckles your knees. His eyes flash in rhythm with your grin, like a sudden flicker of a campfire in the middle of a dark, parched forest.

"This what you want? Hmm?"

The rumble reminds you of the engine of a Harley roaring to life. His throat is burned from the fire of his cigars, the hand on your throat is used to squeezing dead metal and pulling pins from frigid grenades. But even they can't stand a chance against his woodland fire and sycamore smoke. He could bring a cold, inanimate rock back to life with all that fire.

"Yes. I want it. John."

His name on your tongue is a cat's meow. It has the exact effect you hoped for.

"Let's get the brat tamed, then."

"Hah," you finally moan. "Promises, prom–"

The fingers around your throat pull you to his mouth with a python strength. His lips spread yours with soft devouring as he coats you in fire. The coarse beard smells of sweet tobacco – nothing like a pungent cigarette. It's like an old memory: safe and sturdy and strong. Male.

You moan in his mouth – god, what will it be like when he's inside you? – and he capes both arms around you and crushes you against him. Broad shoulders envelop you like a shroud of thick smoke, the cock gets trapped between you like a hot spear, and you mewl like a slut.

Your pussy clenches, just from his warm mouth, the rich velvet of his lips. He takes everything with that kiss, and you're weak in his arms as he bends and molds you against him just the way he wants, opens your mouth with his own and breathes you, samples you like those puffs of smoke he sucks from his cigar.

Your brain short-circuits, you barely notice how your top slides up as his hands go under it. It's dragged up, up, over your breasts and then over your head as he detaches just enough to rip that piece of clothing away.

You look at him like he's Christmas, then reach for your bra while he opens his pants more to get them down. Your jeans are accursedly tight, and he's breathless, too: the whole room is dark and filled with heavy breathing and rustle of clothes as you claw your socks off, slide your strings down and away, watch him get out of his shirt and throw it on the floor too, all propriety gone.

And then…

Jesusfuck–

He picks you up, lifts you from the ground like you're nothing but a leaf, and strides with you in his lap until your back meets a wall.

The barrel-like chest presses the air out of your lungs while your back travels up – you don't know if his arms or chest do the lifting, but you're being positioned for his cock to enter. Your hands try to grasp something solid before it's too late – his back and neck – your legs wrap around him, feet hooking over his ass as the thick of his tip pokes your soaked folds, and after a few seconds of probing, slides in.

"F–uck…" you gasp, sounding so needy that it could be a voiceline from a bad porno movie. His lips find the place between your ear and neck immediately.

"Be good for me now," he gruffs, dark and round like the sweetest bourbon, although you know he's the finest single malt in the world. "Be good…"

"Ah–John…"

I'll be good…

Just for you, I'll be so, so good.

He pants heavy on your neck, grunts as he starts to fuck you against that wall. You knew he might be intense, but apparently, you had no idea. The man is needy as fuck, and has concealed it up until this point.

You could cry, scream from joy from the thickness that spreads you, fills you with every fat glide of a thrust. The sex borders on rough but is so incredibly tender too, so needy it makes your heart collapse, compress into a taut knot in your chest. It's the softest rocking, the gentlest fucking as he retreats, then ruts into you again and again with sharp, rusty moans. You're in a slow but steady rodeo with this man, your breasts pressed against a solid chest covered with hair, and it tickles, even if his pecs threaten to crush your ribcage.

"You're one hell of a girl," he gruffs in your ear, beard grazing up and down your neck. "Taking me so– Fucking hell, look at you…"

His eyes are embers as they sweep over you: your abundant ink, the helpless, adoring look in your eyes, the little mouth that opens with a gasp, the trickle of sweat that forms between your breasts and meets the hair on his chest.

He doesn't have to look down to see how greedy your cunt is for him. He can feel it.

"This is what you wanted the whole time? Huh?"

He's all smoke. All fire.

"Yes…"

"Wanted me to take you against a fucking wall? Eh?"

"Yes…just, just take me," you moan and purr some more, giving him everything he wants. "Fuh–fuck me good…"

"Ahh shit..."

You know you're a drug to certain decent men. But to him, you're a forbidden fruit in all its aspects.

A calm, collected captain who enjoys wide respect, eyeing an edgy, younger woman from the tech department? That's not how this was supposed to go. Thirsting for someone who did what they wanted, looked just the way they wanted, walked this earth like a dark fairy – that's not his usual go, surely. He was supposed to settle down with a proper lady. If he were to settle down at all.

"I've dreamed of this," you whisper in his ear, lips moving just enough to deliver your secret to him.

"Yeah..? Me too," he gives your throat more love with a velvet growl. "Know I shouldn't, but–"

"Shh. Don't–don't…" You grip him tighter, taste the spruce and salt as you breathe his neck. "It's good. It's all good."

He rumbles in approval. Your skin is raw from his beard; even the coarse hair dusting his thighs feels too rough on your skin. And your skin is used to being needled, shot full of ink right inside the dermis. But this… This is branding.

You're silk in his rough embrace, and plundered with no remorse. You sigh and moan, hug him... And then he dares to stop, panting and throbbing inside you.

"Darlin'. Where's the bed?"

The soft question makes you panic. If you go to bed and let him push inside you while you're lying on your back, if you brave a look into those eyes while he takes you, you'll develop more than just a horrid lust for this man. If he collapses on top of you, spent and spoiled while you're at your most vulnerable, you'll tie a string from your heart to his, and you can't, you just can't allow that to happen.

Because he's untamed too. He's not a man who settles down, he's not up for domestication; he's a wandering fire.

"No–no bed," you pant on his muscles, the shoulder that keeps you safely pinned on the wall. "John…? Please."

He's breathing wild too, disguises his surprise well.

"Alright."

He sounds disappointed, and it's not because he doesn't have the strength to maul you against that wall. The rejection stings him too. It makes you want to offer a truce, a little something. When he rocks you again, you graze your fingers up the back of his neck, knowing he will feel ripples across his scalp from your caress.

"We can smoke a cigar after," you propose, not knowing why your voice still comes out as an airy whisper. "Together. I'll pour you that drink…"

His chest swells with a deep breath, he huffs fire on the hollow trench between your collarbones.

"Fuck, woman…"

It's dense syrup that surrounds you much like those shoulders and arms, that coarse hair, that bold male want.

"And after that I want you to…" You catch your breath and sound like a mouse with your next shy question. "Would you go down on me, John?"

It's like you're under a bear attack, but he stills; his head tilts a little to the side and meets your temple.

"You wouldn't tease a man like this," he says. A soft warning, brimstone coated in velour, but the core of it is despair. So much need, so much forbidden, distant want…

"Right? No more teasing."

He's still thinking that you're teasing him… That it's some kind of a joke that you want him.

"I'm serious... I want your mouth on me. I need your–"

"I'll put my mouth on you as soon as we're done here, love."

You have to bite your lips, suck them between your teeth to prevent another deprived moan from escaping.

"Want you to fuck me all night," you continue to whisper on his neck. You should shut the fuck up because it doesn't take a bed to tie that string from your heart to his. After all, they're right there, beating against each other through bone and skin and chest.

"Yeah? That's what you want?"

"Want you to… F-fuck me slow and good from behind and–"

You sniff. Whimper.

You should be ashamed: mewling for more when he's already buried inside you. What kind of a brat are you, wrapping your thighs around that narrow waist like you never want him to pull out?

And you're not crying.

It's just that the cock inside you is throbbing against your walls as if he's making a home there, his hands dig into your ass cheeks like you're his already, the breath upon your sweat and skin feels far too affectionate. When exactly did a raw wall-fuck turn into such an affectionate, gentle taste of love?

And it's not enough. You want to climb on top of him every morning, ride him slowly and watch him unravel as the sun climbs the sky and coats that fur in gold.

"Could you do that? Please… John, please," you whimper and whine, beg like you're tame already.

"I'll fuck you all night if that's what you want. Fill this pretty, tight cunt up every way you like."

It's coarse smoke. It caresses you until your legs start to shake. He adjusts his grip, drags the pull-outs like he drags those pulls from his tobacco. Keeps you nicely in place for him to drive back in–

"I'll fuck you 'till you cry, love. Yeah?"

He punctuates that promise with another good, fat thrust. You moan all tame now – a rippling stream, laughing and crying in his molten hold.

His cock fills you while your thighs quiver and tremble in his hands. Your pussy throbs; it sucks him already, the orgasm is seconds away, and your fingertips search for support but only slip over sweaty, hard muscle.

John. John.

"Fuh-…"

He spreads you a little. Those arms are pure iron as they mold you for him to plow. You know he can feel the waves, the way your cunt grips him with longer, deeper pulls as you start to sound downright pathetic.

"Just like that, just like… hah…"

"M-hm. Yeah," he bends the vowels, daubs them with smoke. "That's it. You're doing good. Doing so well my love."

He huffs between the thrusts that have turned into slow, intense love-making. He's making love to you – god, why does he have to be like this…

"Cum for me. Nice and pretty, yeah? Come on."

He encourages you with words, but you can't hear them anymore.

Heat coils in the pit of your core just before you burst with a heady scream.

The spasm is so sudden you almost hit your head on the wall. He's at your throat the minute it's exposed, and your scream turns into a weak wail when his tongue grazes your skin. It's blazing, and dips into the hollow between your collarbones like it's a shot glass full of scotch. Next thing you feel is fire, even some teeth on your neck.

And you thought Price might, just might be intense…

Your head drops as the blunt of the orgasm leaves you. Your feet unclasp, and next up would be some soft waves, but the man continues to fuck your shattered cunt and marshmallow soul with a good, intense pace. The words that pour out of your mouth are those of a brainless person.

"Ah–hah, God–"

"Where's that cheek now, mm..? Pretty little thing."

"John–h…"

The thrusts rub you against that wall like he wants to staple you there.

"So nice and good for me now, ain't ya? Cummin' on command…" An amused chuff right on your poor, chafed skin… "Begging for my mouth and cock."

You travel up and down in a limp heap, trying to hold on to him with weak limbs as he drives into you with a tight series of half-thrusts. Your legs hang loosely on the side, but he has no trouble carrying the full weight of you.

"Slow–slowly, Cap…"

"Ahh fuck–"

He swears on your ink, right on the trotting pulse on your neck. Through the vapor of man sweat and rich smoke and a whiff of cedar trees bending in the wind, you feel him tense and thicken.

"The fucking things you do to me…" he pants with a low growl, hushed but intense. Your pussy answers with a good, demanding pull.

"Fuck… fuck–!"

You're a limp doll between him and the wall when he comes. Pressed between a rock and a hard place, literally. His chest being the rock, an entire boulder that whips the oxygen from your lungs as he drives deep, his balls giving a few taut pulls against your ass as he empties himself into you with a satisfied, dry moan. A dark, ripe blossom, shooting straight to your core while you're sealed tight around him.

The world goes still after that; the only thing that moves is your breath and his, a refreshing hot breeze coursing through the stale air. The darkness of the room isn't half as snug as the safety of his arms.

Your fingers find his neck, the short-cut hair and the skin pounding with a rush of blood. He lets you go reluctantly, bends a little to set your feet back to the solid ground. He doesn't pull out, keeps huffing all over you even when you're returned back to the earth.

And you never want to come back. Your cunt still throbs around him and cries a tiny, thick stream down your thigh. His upper body still pins you against that wall, his breaths still mist your skin, caress the red burns of his beard.

He feels so good. Too good…

When he pulls out, he does so with intense care. He gives you some space to catch your breath, and you finally notice he has fucked your legs into splinters.

"I'm…" You break the hush of heavy breathing with a soft laugh. More viscous load pushes out of you with it. "I don't think I can stand."

"Yeah? Tried to take you to bed," he muses softly, sounding annoyingly content with his achievements.

"Gotta admit it was a good idea."

"As was the nightcap," he rasps, voice drenched in soft smoke.

"We'll get there eventually."

"I have no doubt about that."

You give him a soft, warm chuckle as you cast your eyes between the crest of his pecs. Rough, tight muscle meets your soft breasts with heaving breaths, and teases your nipples to taut little points. The wet hair on his chest looks good paired with your inked, smooth skin… You two look so goddamn fine together.

"I hope I didn't make you deaf with that scream."

He stands at his full height, but tilts his head down and slightly to the side as if you were a new, interesting species he's just found on his travels.

"Wouldn't complain, love," he says. More wet syrup, just for you. He weighs you with his stare, curious and appeased, and you feel shy. For fuck's sake, you still feel shy even though this man was inside you just a moment ago.

"The bed. Now be a good girl and tell me where it is."

"Down the…hallway."

A delicate little whisper, again.

It's laughable, how the veteran of Task Force 141 turns you into something so dainty and meek. Captain John Price takes you against a wall like you're nothing but a doll, makes you purr and beg, reassembles you into a weak-willed woman who gets carried to bed.

This is not how it was supposed to go...

He lifts you back in his lap while you continue to hold onto him like he's your prince Charming. A laugh spills on your lips when he tries to lay you gently on the bed and you manage to pull him down with you. You end up tumbling there in a sweaty, messy heap.

"Knew you were trouble," he's smiling too as he settles beside you. You curl and wrap yourself around him, your bodies mold and curve together like they're made for each other.

He's so solid, so warm, the kind of man you'd love to fall asleep on every night. No more cold sides of the pillow, no more tossing and turning and trying to get the code out of your head. Just… this chest, those ember eyes burning in the night. Some soft breathing, a roaring engine standing still, waiting for you, just for you…

"I hope this wasn't a one time only occasion," you test the waters.

"No." He shifts a little, disentangles from you slightly. "Unless you–"

"No."

You bend in his arms like a young willow, cut his doubts off with a kiss. It's passionate, and so sloppy it threatens to make the same sounds as your cunt and his cock a while ago.

The hand on your hip tows you closer, then steals its way down your leg. You hike your thigh up, perfectly willing. You're a sticky mess, but so is he: his rock-hard thigh meets your still soaked pussy like these two have always belonged together. And this man's full fire has escaped you until now. There are so many hidden, wild things in him too.

He would look so good on a Harley… He would look good on a motel bed after riding for days and days with you attached to him like an eloped dark bride. The nights would be smeared with hot sex and cinder and smoke, a dash of scotch on top, he could drink it from your lips. You would serve it to him from your mouth, round the taste a bit so that it wouldn't burn so much…

"Have you ever been to Alaska?"

The liquor is leaving you, but you don't feel any more sober. The lava in your veins has only been replaced by another kind of fire.

"No."

"Would you like to go?"

"What'ya mean," he murmurs on your tongue, and you know he's hard again just from the thick lust coating his voice. "What kind of question is that?"

"I was just thinking."

"What were you thinkin', kid..?"

"Don't… call me that," you laugh. In truth, you're growing quite fond of it. It reminds you of old movies. "Here's looking at you, kid" and all that.

His laugh is a charred roll in his chest. To him, you're a brat – an unruly kitten – no matter what you say.

"Kid. Why Alaska?"

He's curious. Borderline hooked. You steal a peek into those vulcan eyes.

"You'd look good in Alaska. Old man."

"Really," he rumbles a soft purr against your heart.

Another soft kiss follows. Affectionate… He plays time, but he's also a probing, scanning. You bloom in his embrace, unfurl on his lips like he just wrenched you wide. He could haul you to the cabin right now and you would only cook him dinner.

It's too late, even if you try to shift after such a kiss. Escape to press your cheek against that place between his pecs, the spot where the hair is darkest and thickest. You want to lick that valley where his heart meets his musk. That scent must be born from a good, stout heart.

"Would you take me with you…? If you ever decide to go."

It's a fragile question. A baring of the heart. It holds so much more than an inquiry about whether he would whisk you away on a secret leave. It's strings, pulling from your heart to his, taking root.

"Sure. But you're quite a handful, love."

"Is that so…?"

You crawl over him as gracefully as you can. He allows you to straddle him, and of course he does. You're no threat; you're only a one woman show. The only thing he's probably missing right now is a glass of scotch and a thick roll of tobacco.

He takes in the view with hunger: not satiated by that pent-up fuck, just like you're not...

But then his hands come to rest on your thighs to check if they're still shaking. The touch bleeds possessiveness: it's a thoroughly absent-minded, instinctual attempt to reach for you. It tells you you're exactly where you belong.

"You seem like the kind of woman who's not for the faint of heart," he says like you didn't just mewl in his arms like the tamest fucking housecat.

And perhaps that's what intrigues him. Contrasts. And even more than that, the odd place where black fuses into white, the gray area where everything is possible. The split-second moment when the skin accepts the ink and traps it in.

Everyone always says you get buried with your tattoos. That you should think twice before staining your skin with such permanent hookups.

But the thing is, you get addicted to it. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff before a bungee jump. You know you'll never be the same person after you jump, and you know you can't leave that cliff without jumping. It's a stalemate until you clear your mind of doubt and just plunge.

And you don't want to leave this earth without getting stained and sweaty, without dipping your soul into the full experience. You're supposed to get a little dirty. This is Earth, after all.

Your fingers disappear somewhere in his slick fur. Sunrise is hours away, but his eyes spark aflame. They're always, always smoldering like the butt of his cigar. He's a man who causes wildfires at the end of the world – he's a reckoning, a flicker in the dark forest, roaring into a bonfire as soon as the wind passes through the trees.

And you've always loved fire. Wild, and free. The only thing that competes with such freedom is a wide, wild stream.

"But you can handle me. Right?" Your fingers curl softly around the hair surrounding his navel. "Tame me and everything?"

It's an offering that causes even fire to tilt its head in curiosity. In the end, you're not sure who tamed who.

"Someone has to," he grabs your hips with rich promise.

You'll pour him that drink. Light him a cigar after his mouth is full of your taste, see how well it pairs with fire and smoke. You'll toast to the Harley, the crazy motel…

And Alaska.

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