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joelscurls · 1 year ago

Text

best kept secret

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 6.7k

summary: In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, pre-outbreak, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is 36), secret relationship, angst, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, car sex, creampie, some fluff; lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared. but we're back, baby! anyway, dbf!joel owns my ass, so here's my rendition of him. as always, ty to my baby @javisashtray for reading this over for me and helping me through the creative process <3

Joel’s bedroom window offers a perfect view of the sunrise; of shy, pink light creeping over treetops and the roof of your dad’s house across the street.

It’s gorgeous — breathtaking, even — maybe because you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve actually seen the crest of morning. You’re far more privy to late nights and sleeping in as long as you can push it, never been one to be up with the lark, so to speak.

You don’t mind the early wakeup call, though, not when it’s this: Joel’s head tucked between your thighs, his tongue rolling lazily over your clit, your eyes still adjusting to the light as he spreads you open for him.

He’s humming against you, his coarse beard tickling soft skin, thumbs dug into muscle to hold you in place as your back bows reflexively off the mattress. He looks so sweet like this, so eager to please, staring up at you with blown pupils.

“C’mon baby,” he purrs. “Just gimme one before you go.”

They’re the first words he’s said all morning, the first thought that’s necessitated utterance. His voice is hoarse and deep and drips honey-sweet at your core.

Even so, despite how badly you want to — because you always want Joel’s mouth on you — you’re not sure you can.

Because you need to get home before Denise next door leaves for her early shift. Before Susan a few houses down takes her dog out for a walk.

Before the neighborhood wakes and somebody sees you leaving Joel Miller’s house. Or worse, before your dad catches you slipping into the house in yesterday’s clothes, your car in the driveway still cold.

But with another experimental flick of Joel’s tongue, you forget all that, a content little sigh slipping past your parted lips, betraying you.

Just one, you tell yourself, and then you’ll head out.

“Fuck, okay — yeah,” you breathe, twisting your fingers into the roots of his curls.

With your permission, he buries his nose in your mound. Licks at you again — with more purpose, this time. One long, drawn out lap followed by another.

He’s so gentle with you, so careful, caressing your folds with his tongue like they’re made of paper. It’s a dizzying juxtaposition to the way he laid you down last night and fucked you, teeth scraping your neck and cock bruising your cervix.

You’re still sore, your walls tender where he stretched them, but your pussy is drooling nonetheless, surely making a mess of the bedsheets underneath you.

Because you’re insatiable when it comes to Joel.

For the past few weeks, since the first time you’d found yourself in his bed, you’ve craved him. Regardless of how sated he’s left you each and every time, you’ve needed more.

It’s dangerous and stupid and undeniably wrong, having a fling with your dad’s best-friend. But you’re finding it difficult to consider the morality of it all when just his tongue makes you come harder than any other man’s cock ever has.

That tongue, now dipping into your apex, drawing more slick out of you as his thumb finds your swollen clit — It’s overwhelming how good it feels, how good he is at this.

He’s bringing you to the edge languidly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your silky flesh. It’s like he doesn’t want this to be over, needs to stretch the moment as far as it’ll go, milk every last second before you slip from his grasp.

But it’s going to end soon; it’s inevitable with the way he’s laving your pussy, the crushed velvet of his tongue gliding through your folds so wet and warm. Your orgasm is building, and you’re powerless to stave it off any longer.

“Joel,” you warn, his name a high-pitched whine.

“Shh, I know babygirl; it’s okay.”

Two of his fingers hook at your entrance and push in, pacifying you as his thumb continues working your clit. “I got you. Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The soothe of his voice floods your senses like nitrous; renders your body loose and your head foggy. You come apart with a string of shattered breaths, eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the duvet.

Joel talks you through it: that’s it, pretty girl; so good for me; always so good for me, and though he sounds so far away, his words are the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

The world comes back into view slowly. Air settles in your lungs. And you can’t help but laugh at how fucked-out you feel when you peer down at Joel, his gaze already locked on you, expectantly.

“Okay?” he asks, rubbing at your inner thigh.

“Yeah,” you exhale, corners of your lips pulling taut. “More than okay.”

He smiles back at you. Props himself up with hands planted either side of you on the mattress and hovers over your feeble form.

“Good,” he whispers, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He licks into you, letting you taste yourself on him — a little sweet, a little bitter — and his lips are so soft that you nearly melt. “Did so good, angel.”

You want nothing more than to spend all day in this bed with him. Return the favor a few times over. Learn what he looks like in the afternoon sun against the backdrop of navy blue sheets. What he tastes like after his coffee rather than before.

“I don’t want to leave,” you admit against his mouth and he frowns, taking one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to each of your knuckles, one by one, his eyes never straying from yours.

“I don’t want you to either, darlin’. But you can come back tonight, yeah?”

Tonight. Hours away. A whole day between now and then. But it’ll have to do.

“Tonight,” you repeat. Solidify it.

You slink home just as the street lights dim.

The house is quiet when you enter, apart from the incessant ticking of the grandmother clock in the living room. It sets off a throbbing in your head, a dull pang right at the front of your skull that you massage with two fingers as you ascend the stairs.

You move cautiously up each step, wincing at every creak of old wood. It must take minutes to reach the second-floor landing, and then you’re tiptoeing past your father’s room, listening for signs of sleep behind the seal of his door. Sure enough, you catch it, a single, drawn-out snore, loud enough that you let your feet fall, shuffling the rest of the way to the bathroom across the hall.

You immediately crank the shower on, climbing in as soon as you see steam. Lathering your skin with citrus-scented body wash, the smell of sex washes off your body and down the drain.

The warm water soothes your sore muscles; bittersweet relief. You stand there until the stream grows icy, stepping out and toweling yourself off just as you hear the familiar blare of your dad’s alarm on the other side of the wall.

By the time you’ve dressed and made your way downstairs, he’s already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his back to you.

Sink empty, counters borderline sparkling, a coaster tucked under his warm mug — your father is a neat man. He does not take kindly to mess.

God forbid, anybody disrupt the sacred balance of his home; move something and forget to put it back, break something of his that should be kept intact.

“Hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he yawns. Turns to face you. “You were up early. Heard the shower going.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you lie.

“Something on your mind?”

Heat blooms across your chest and up your neck. There’s no way he knows — you’ve been far too careful. Still, you’re on edge, and the question lodges itself between your ribs uncomfortably as you frantically search for an answer.

“Uh, n-no,” you stutter. “Just work stuff, I guess.”

He seems to buy it, reaching for the percolator and re-filling his mug with a sigh, “Just gotta give it time. You only just started. Plus, it’s your first job out of school. They don’t expect you to know it all right away.”

It’s good advice, if not misguided. You nod as if you’re absorbing it, taking it straight to heart. As if your mind isn’t preoccupied.

You grab a mug from the cabinet. Fill it with coffee and creamer. Perch yourself at the breakfast table and take a slow, steadying sip.

The caffeine has just about seeped into your bloodstream when-

-there’s a knock at the door.

Your dad shoots you a puzzled look, one which you immediately return. Who could that be, so early on a Wednesday morning?

And when he pushes open the door to reveal none other than Joel, you just about fall out of your chair. Your nails absentmindedly dig into the wood of the table in an attempt to brace yourself.

“Oh, buddy — hey! Come on in,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he steps over the threshold. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

You grasp the handle of your mug like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, you worry the ceramic will shatter in your hands.

Joel is dressed — blue cotton t-shirt covering his broad back and the deep, red scratches you left there when you dug your nails into skin, your legs hiked over his hips and your face tucked into his chest.

The pair of boxers peeking over the waistband of his jeans are different from the ones you pulled off of him last night, the ones he shimmied back into before you slept cradled in his arms.

He’s a different Joel here, now — your father’s friend, your neighbor — not the man who breaks you down with his tongue or the one who calls you his good girl while you take his entire, throbbing length.

No, this Joel, standing in your kitchen in the presence of your father, has never betrayed him. Hasn’t tasted his friend’s daughter or felt the tight embrace of her wet, warm cunt around his cock. This Joel is reliable, honest, not one to do harm.

You do not desire this Joel, cannot. You must look at him with apathetic eyes. Must keep the boat of your longing at bay.

Easier said than done. It’s as if your desire for him is a feral beast, fed by his touch and left starving in its wake. You feel like you’ve just run a marathon, sweat beading at your collar as you not-so-subtly follow the subconscious flex of his hands, the bunching of fabric over his biceps.

His voice bounces off the backsplash, and your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug.

“Yeah, I uh — I went to make myself coffee and realized I was out. Was hopin’ you might have some to spare?”

He can’t be serious. He came over for coffee? He couldn’t get some on the road?

“I’m afraid she took the last of it,” your dad’s eyes point to you, and you ignore the burn of Joel’s gaze when his follow.

“Ahh,” he says. “‘ts okay. I’ll grab some on my way in.”

His fingers taptaptap on the edge of the countertop, bottom lip tucked between his teeth like there’s something else. Another reason he came here.

And then you spot it — your wallet, dark red leather, poking out the top of Joel’s back pocket.

You must’ve left it in his room before you hurried home. Somewhere amongst the mess of trinkets and trash on his dresser. You half-remember dropping it there last night as he’d kneeled in front of you and peppered kisses up the length of your leg.

Thankfully, your dad is oblivious as ever, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to inconspicuously slip you your wallet when he turns around and crosses the kitchen, placing his empty mug in the sink.

Joel sidesteps once, twice, extending his arm and snapping it back as soon as you have the wallet in your grasp.

Your father clears his throat. Spins to find Joel exactly where he was. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, wrestling a slice of bread out of the bag and dropping it into the toaster, “I gotta set you up with this co-worker of mine, Deb.”

Joel freezes. You watch as the color drains from his face and his large hand anxiously cards through dark curls. You’re pretty sure you freeze too, breath caught somewhere in your throat until your dad turns to you and you remember to exhale.

“You know Deb, right, honey?” he asks. You mentally flick through the rolodex of your dad’s coworkers.

There’s Leanne, tall redhead, hosted a potluck a few months back at which you tasted the worst mac & cheese you’ve ever had. And Barbara from accounting, who he got into a heated argument with over who makes the best BBQ in the city. You only remember her name because he hadn’t shut up about how wrong her opinion was for a full week.

This woman actually thinks the Smoke Shop has got better ribs than Lou’s. I said to her, Barbara, your taste buds must be absolutely torched.

But Deb? You don’t recall a Deb. Still, you’re pretty sure you hate her, just in hearing her name in this context.

You shake your head, no.

“Well, I guess you haven’t seen her in a while. She was there that day I brought you into the office.”

“When I was ten?” you retort.

“Yeah, I guess it was that long ago, huh?”

You shrug. He returns his attention to Joel. “Anyway, Deb – she’s around your age, just got divorced about a year back, and she’s a real nice woman. I think you two would really hit it off.”

“Is that so?” Joel replies. You swear his voice wavers. If your dad notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You’ll like her Joel, I promise. I mean, when’s the last time you went out with a nice lady? Not since – what was her name — Jean? And if things were going well with her, I’d hope you’d tell your old friend.” The toaster pops, and he retrieves his slice of toast. Grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer.

“No, I ain’t seeing Jean,” Joel sighs. Flashes you an apologetic glance as your dad slathers his toast in artificial purple jam, blissfully unaware.

“Well, you gotta get back out there!”

Joel’s gaze rolls to the ceiling. “I don’t know – I’m just not real interested in datin’ right now.”

You exhale, then — a quiet declaration of relief that seems to go unnoticed — unperturbed even when your dad continues his pitch.

I’ve known this woman for years Joel, I’m telling you, the two of you’d be the perfect match; she’s a looker too, real pretty.

Ew. Tuning him out, you check the clock, find that you only have a few minutes before you need to get going. You stand from the table and make your way toward the sink with your now-empty coffee mug in hand.

Would I ever lead you astray? your dad is asking just as you brush past Joel. His hand, idle by his side, catches the fabric of your blouse and you have to fight to ignore the pinprick of electricity it ignites under your skin.

“No, I know,” Joel grumbles. “I trust your judgment ‘n all, ‘ts just-”

“Will you just give her a chance?”

“Jesus; fine.”

The mug slips from your grip, falls into the sink with a clang.

Your dad glares at you, expression softening only when you gesture to the still-intact ceramic lying on its side in the basin.

He’s quickly distracted, then, jotting a series of numbers down onto a scrap of notebook paper, the blue ink pressed in so hard that it’s beginning to bleed through.

“Atta boy,” he drawls, sliding it across the counter. Joel pinches it between two fingers, folds the paper without looking at it and stuffs it into his front pocket.

“Promise you’ll give her a call tonight? I may or may not have already talked you up, and I need to know you’re not gonna make me look bad here.”

Joel has to see you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He must. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already. But he’s refusing to meet your gaze, eyes glued to the cabinet directly in front of him as he nods. “Yeah, I’ll call her tonight,” he says, a small, unconvincing smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

He’s actually agreeing to this?

You need to get out of here before you say something rash.

The anger bubbles in you slowly, then all at once, threatening to boil over as you slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder.

Marching toward the door, you offer a half-hearted bye, not bothering to look back before you leave.

The office is already milling with people by the time you stroll in, ten minutes late.

The conversation between Joel and your dad is still running laps in your head as you sneak past your boss’s door.

It sticks there through the morning and well into the afternoon, your dad’s words an incessant earworm: I think you two would really hit it off.

The thing is — you can’t blame Joel for saying yes to the setup. Not really. Your situation is complicated, messy, bound to end badly.

Maybe he’d be happier with Deb.

They could take walks together, stroll through the grocery store or down the street hand-in-hand. Throw dinner parties and shamelessly gush about their relationship to their friends. All without fear of being caught doing something wrong.

Because that’s what this is, you and Joel — it’s wrong. Not like you weren’t already well aware of that. Leave it to some woman you’ve never met to rub it in.

The day passes infuriatingly slow.

The pile of emails in your inbox only grows larger by the time you’re due to clock out, stack of reports on your desk barely touched. You wince when your boss stops by your cubicle on her way out, eager for an update.

“Sorry, Linda; a couple of these were more time-consuming than I’d hoped,” you lie. But you can tell she doesn’t buy it, not one bit, her expression souring as you shuffle through papers.

“I need these done by the end of the week, no matter what.”

“Of course,” you mutter, face heating with embarrassment. “I’ll get them done and on your desk by Friday.”

“Thanks.” Her heels are already clacking on tile when you open your mouth to apologize again, your sorry lost to the ether.

You gather your things and scramble to your feet as soon as she’s out of view, not sticking around to watch your computer power down. By the time you get to your car, Joel’s number is already dialed on your phone.

He picks up after two rings.

“Darlin’ — are you okay?”

It’s admittedly uncharacteristic for you to call him so early. You usually wait until after dark, when you’ve both retreated to your respective bedrooms, away from listening ears.

But this can’t wait. It’s been eating at you all day, digging into your work. If you don’t talk to him about it, you’re going to end up unemployed. You don’t bother to ask if he’s still on the job site, around other people. “You’re going on this date.” It’s not a question. More of an accusation.

“Baby,” he sighs. You try your best to ignore his molasses drawl and the way it seeps into your chest.

“Why didn’t you say no?”

“How could I?” he groans. “There’s your dad, askin’ me if I’m seein’ someone, sayin’ he’s already told this lady about me – what am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice comes out a whine. “Make something up. Tell him you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”

He laughs, low and breathy on the other end. “Yeah, baby. Think he’d believe that one, f’sure.”

“Fuck,” you huff. “I just— I don’t-“

You want to tell him not to go. To cancel. Fake his own death. Do whatever it takes to get out of this. But you have no right, not really. The two of you aren’t dating. You don’t have any control over what he does or who he sees. And you don’t want that, no. You just want him to choose you.

“I don’t wanna go, darlin’. I really don’t. But if I do this, I think it’ll get him off my back for a while. He won’t have a reason to suspect that I’m foolin’ around with his daughter.”

Fooling around. His phrasing is a metaphorical punch in the gut.

It’s not exactly a lie. You haven’t put a label on this thing, whatever it is. It’s been purely physical: lips slotted to lips, tongues pressed together, swapped sweat and saliva. But hearing it reduced to two words, words with such a casual connotation — as if you haven’t been driven by overwhelming desire — makes your stomach churn.

Joel doesn’t seem to clock it when you go quiet, a cocktail of rage and sorrow sloshing around your insides. “It’s for the best,” he adds, a shot of hard, burning liquor.

“Yeah,” you say defeatedly. Choke back the pathetic tears that creep up your throat. “For the best.”

He ends the call with the excuse of bad cell reception. Promises to talk to you later. You’re not sure that you believe him.

The phrase fooling around curls up in your head, a wet dog, its fur dripping into the crevices of your rattled brain the entire drive home.

You dodge Joel’s calls for the remainder of the week.

There’s no use in talking to him when you have nothing to say, when you know any words you attempt will be overtaken by tears.

Even so, it doesn’t stop him from trying. His number lights up the screen of your phone at least twice a day.

He leaves voicemails that you do not listen to. You can’t. The last thing you need is his syruppy drawl in your ear. You’ll break; you know you will.

So instead, you delete them. Rid yourself of temptation.

But you still ache for him — a devastating truth. You lumber through the days, bones heavy with hurt. Find yourself kept up at night by thoughts of Joel and the infuriatingly soothing timbre of his voice, the intoxicating callous of his fingertips against your soft skin.

It’s a lonely thing, yearning for Joel Miller.

On Friday, your father beams at the dinner table. He’s grinning like a child as he stuffs a forkful of rice into his mouth.

“Joel and Deb’s date is tomorrow,” he says. “Think they’ll really hit it off, don’t you?”

You’re dumbfounded for a long moment — can’t believe that this is your life now: being asked about your thoughts on Joel and the ever-elusive Deb as a couple. When it takes too long for you to answer, your father’s fork stills pointedly on his plate, and you sputter.

“Oh! I mean, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t remember Deb.” You can’t help your condescending tone. Your dad doesn’t seem to catch it anyway.

“Well,” he says, “I think they’ll be a match. Hoping so, anyway. The man has been such a hermit lately — maybe if he has a lady, he’ll get out more!”

“You sound real excited,” you grumble. Stab four peas on the prongs of your fork.

“It is exciting. I’ve never set anyone up before. And the best part is, the place they’re going to — the Tavern — it’s got rooms you can rent out for wedding receptions. Just imagine if down the line, they got mar-“

“Dad,” you stop him. You think you’ll be physically sick if you let him finish that sentence. “Sorry, I just — I’m really tired, all of a sudden. I think I’m going to head to bed early.”

It’s not a complete lie. You’re emotionally exhausted as a result of the past couple days. Sleep sounds like a much-needed, blissful escape right now.

Your dad doesn’t question you. He just nods. Swipes your plate from in front of you and brings it to the sink along with his.

Of course, you find it impossible to actually drift off that night. Tossing and turning, you battle the glaring urge to get up, slink into the home-office and look up directions to the Tavern.

Not that you’re planning to go there anytime soon — you’re just curious. That’s all.

Around midnight, you give up, pad down the hallway and into the room parallel yours. The computer dials up slowly, and you chew your bottom lip as you wait.

You snatch a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from the #1 Dad mug that sits next to the monitor. Click on the internet icon and type the words into the search bar.

This is definitely a bad idea. Maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.

You jot the address down anyway.

Downtown Austin is buzzing with life.

Patrons spilling out of bars, tourists striding down the street in their brand new Stetsons – it almost distracts you from the task at hand.

At just past seven, you’d told your dad you were going out, meeting a friend for drinks. He’d been a bit taken aback, seeing as you’re not very social these days, but he’d seemed happy. Relieved.

That’s not what you’re doing, of course.

No – in reality, you’re turning into the parking lot attached to the Tavern. It’s packed to the brim with cars, but you still manage to find Joel’s truck, its license plate number burned into the back of your mind after countless mornings of absently reading it as you snuck past.

It’s idle and empty when you inch by, and even though you knew he’d be here, on this date, your heart still sinks. Because maybe a tiny part of you had hoped he’d stand Deb up.

You should leave. It was stupid to come here in the first place. What are you going to do — storm inside and demand that he leave with you?

You consider it for half a second, groaning when you realize how pitiful you are. Defeated, you swing your car into a spot at the back, facing the building, and shift it into park. You hug the steering wheel dejectedly.

From here, you have a straight-shot view of the restaurant’s entrance, a set of double doors at the side of the building. Groups spill out every so often, every pair that emerges causing your back to arch reflexively.

Joel and Deb are probably discussing their interests right now, bonding over a shared connection with your dad. You can vividly picture the smile likely plastered across his face — the same one you’ve elicited with sweet filth whispered in his ear.

And you’re here, sitting in your running car, watching the door. Your pulse thumps obnoxiously loud in your ears.

Minutes pass like molasses, slow and thick. You watch the clock on the car radio obsessively, betting with yourself on what time they’ll leave. After thirty minutes of nothing, you’re convinced that they’re going to close the place out.

But then the door opens again, and you straighten up, immediately met with the sight of Joel and Deb.

She’s talking animatedly, eyes widening every few words, blonde hair wafting around her narrow face. It’s undeniable that she’s stunning, even from far away; possesses the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers in line at the grocery store. The jealousy that pools in your gut burns like acetone in an open wound.

She takes his arm as they walk toward the parking lot, and he lets her, despite the rest of his body appearing strangely rigid.

You wonder if he’ll take her home. Lead her to his truck, help her up the step to the passenger seat and sneak a look at her ass under her dress before shutting the door. If they’ll leave her car in the lot for the night, come back to retrieve it in the morning once he’s helped her forget about her loser ex-husband; let the scent of her perfume seep into the bed sheets to cover up yours.

But he doesn’t lead her to his truck. You watch as they unexpectedly turn down a row of cars, disappearing from your view completely, his arm still locked with hers.

He could still kiss her. Press her against the car. Promise her that he’ll call — and he will, first thing tomorrow. He’s probably just being a real gentleman. Treating her like a woman he might want to marry someday.

Maybe he knows, after just one date, that she’s his soulmate. He’ll buy the ring in a couple weeks. They’ll be engaged in a month’s time, and he’ll say he just couldn’t wait any longer.

She’s the one thing I’ve been missing.

You stew in the agonizing unknown for what feels like hours before Joel materializes once again, backside illuminated by headlights as he strides toward his truck.

And then — he stops. You see the exact moment he notices your car in the parking lot, his eyebrows threading together and his hands splaying over his hips.

He’s staring directly through the windshield. At you.

Fuck.

He takes a few slow steps. Stops in front of the hood. Narrows his eyes and flexes his jaw.

With a deep breath, you unlock the doors. Gesture for him to get in the passenger side.

He immediately rounds the car, prying the door open and climbing inside just as a SUV pulls out the row he and Deb had walked down.

The door slams when he yanks it closed. The sound echoes through the cab of the car.

“You wanna fuckin’ explain what you’re doin’ here?” he snaps. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, embarrassment and now, anger, spooling hot behind your ears.

You know you’re in the wrong. You shouldn’t have followed him. But does he have to be so hostile?

When your gaze finally meets his, he looks — distraught — jaw clenched and lips set in a straight line. His fingers absently dig into denim-covered thighs.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “I just wanted to see how you were with her.” And it’s the truth; not one you want to be admitting right now, to him, but it’s the truth nonetheless.

“Doesn’t give you the right to spy on me.”

“So what was I supposed to do? Sit at home and mope while the guy I was seeing is on a date with someone else? Oh no, I’m sorry,” you throw your hands up, form air quotes with your fingers, “the guy I was fooling around with.”

This seems to strike a nerve. His jaw twitches, and his fingers still on his lap.

“It wasn’t like that,” he grits

“No? Isn’t that all this was to you: fooling around?”

There’s a beat. Joel sighs.

“No — fuck, no. Of course not.”

His expression softens. A crack in solid stone. “I tried callin’ you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” you admit.

He nods. Another beat.

“Did you kiss her?” you ask.

“No.” He says it with intent, with promise, eyes firmly locked on yours now.

Your mouth goes dry.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want to.”

“You don’t want her?”

“No,” he says flatly, his pupils bulging in the lamplight, black bleeding into the brown of his irises. “I don’t want her.”

“Why not?”

He leans forward. His weight presses into the center console and his breath fans your face — warm, tinged with the scent of cheap beer.

“I don’t want her,” he says, voice an octave lower, “because I want you. I thought you knew that?”

The radio drones between the two of you, some classic rock song you think you recognize flitting through the speaker. Your pulse beats staccato in your throat, off tempo.

“You want me?” you ask, a little breathless, and the next words you say are beyond dumb, beyond reckless, but you say them anyway. “Prove it.”

Joel doesn’t hesitate. He closes the slight distance between you and kisses you, hard, his tongue frantically sliding against yours through parted lips.

It’s sloppy, and desperate, and you feel drunk on the taste of him, on longing laced with carnal need. He’s groaning into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands, burying his fingers in your hair — as if he can’t get close enough, as if he’ll only be satisfied once he’s swallowed you whole. You’re pretty sure you want him to.

Your hands move frantically to his t-shirt, then, bunch into the fabric and pull. You need to feel the skin underneath, need to rove your hands along his bare chest. He accommodates, tugging the shirt by the back of the collar, lips separating from yours ever-so-briefly to bring it over his head and toss it onto the backseat.

And then he’s back on you, licking into your mouth again, eliciting a whimper from you when his hand wraps around the side of your throat, just under your jaw.

Your palms splay across his torso, wander over warm, golden skin. You’ve missed this, god, you’ve missed this — but it’s still not enough. You need to feel more of him. In your mouth, in your hand, in your cunt — you’re not picky. Just need him in whatever way he’ll provide.

“Joel,” you whimper into his mouth, fingers winding around his bicep.

He pulls back. Peers at you through hooded eyes. “What is it, baby?” he asks through labored breaths.

“Need you — please.”

He immediately unbuckles your seatbelt. Lowers his seat back and manhandles you onto his lap. You go easily; slot yourself to him with legs folded on either side of his thighs.

Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you grind down into his lap. His cock strains against denim underneath you. He groans when you swivel your hips and brush the heft of it again with your clothed heat.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” he asks into your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours.

Your breath catches.

You know what he’s really asking: are you going to let him fuck you here, in the parking lot of a public establishment, where anybody could see?

But you don’t care. In fact, you’re way past caring, the emptiness of your cunt too painful to ignore any longer. Let them watch him take what’s his.

You nod frantically. “Yes,” you pant. “Please.”

Joel nods too, as if he’s accepting his fate. He’s going to fuck his friend’s daughter in the passenger seat of her car. There’s no way around it — not when you’re begging for it. He’s going to give you what you need.

“Okay,” he soothes, “I got you baby.”

He helps you out of your pants, then; clumsily maneuvers them down and off your legs along with your panties and tosses them aimlessly into the back.

He doesn’t bother to take his jeans off. Lets you unzip them and pop the button open, your nimble fingers making quick work of it. And then you’re pulling his cock out of his boxers, stiff and leaking in your grasp.

You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders just as he begins to pepper placating kisses along your neck. “Go ahead baby,” he whispers into your ear. “Take it; it’s yours.”

His head falls back against the seat as you stroke him a few times and line his cock up with your dripping entrance, his hands clasped around your waist.

You sink down slowly, savoring every inch of him as he burrows in deeper. He’s so thick, stretching you like it’s the first time again, your walls fluttering as they relax around his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel slurs, fingers digging into your skin impatiently when you still, fully seated on him.

“Gotta move baby — please move.”

He’s so fucking deep, though, his cockhead bumping your cervix, and your entire body feels gelatinous atop him. A cloying sort of heat hangs around your head. You swivel your hips weakly, your forehead falling to rest on his with a heavy sigh.

Joel is happy to take control, bucking up into you so hard you see stars. You can’t suppress the string of moans that spill from your mouth, and Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just as loud, anyway, his broken sounds bleeding into yours, bouncing off glass and leather.

Neither of you can muster an actual word, though, not with him rutting up into you, sheathing himself in your pussy over and over again. He’s relentlessly hitting that spot — the one that has you practically clinging to him for dear life.

It’s approaching too quickly; he’s going to make you come.

One of your hands flies to the roof of the car in an attempt to brace yourself, flat palm pressing into it so hard you worry it’ll pop.

Joel takes the opportunity to drag you down in his lap, spearing you on his cock, and the sudden change in angle makes you cry out.

“Oh f— ahh, oh my—“

“That’s it,” he coos, “you got it, babygirl.”

His words tip you over the edge, your entire body locking up as you gush around him. You’re wetting his lap, slick splattering his thighs, and he loves it, his fervid moan telling you so.

His movements begin to falter then, hips stuttering underneath you as he chases his own high.

“Cmon, baby,” you goad, “please fill me up.”

He grunts when he spills inside, his face nestling in your chest, heaving as he works through it and begins to come down. You don’t move, not that Joel would let you, still holding you on his lap like he’s afraid to let you go.

You nuzzle into his embrace as his cock softens inside you.

You stay like that for a while, probably too long given that anybody could easily look into the car and see you straddling him. You don’t have the energy to care.

Eventually, you lift your head from its spot on Joel’s chest. Look up at him with bleary eyes.

“Joel,” you say.

He meets your gaze, face shiny with sweat and his hair a mess. He looks gorgeous like this, you think. The way only you get to see him.

“Yeah?” He grazes along your arm with featherlight fingers. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“About wanting me.” In truth, you’re not sure you want the answer. But you need to know, definitively, if Joel is yours. You’re done sharing him.

“Oh, baby,” he drawls. “Of course I do. You’re all I want. Do you want me?”

And it’s a stupid question. He has to know that. You’re nodding before he can even finish it. “Yes,” you breathe. “I want you, Joel”

“Then it’s settled. It’s me and you. No more…interlopers.”

You giggle. Reluctantly separate yourself from his body and re-dress. You settle back into the driver’s seat with achy legs.

You’ve never felt more content than you do in this moment.

Still, you’ll have to hide — won’t be able to share the news of your new relationship with friends or coworkers, your dad — and neither will Joel.

You don’t care much, not as long as he’s yours, but you need to be sure he feels the same.

“Joel,” you stop him as he opens the passenger-side door to get out. He stills with one leg swung out the door.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind…being a secret? Don’t mind keeping me a secret?”

He looks at you like you have two heads.

He pulls his leg back into the car. Shuts the door and leans over the console again.

Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces your gaze. Makes sure you’re listening.

“I want you — doesn’t matter who knows or doesn’t know. Long as you’re mine.”

Your chest tightens, and your heart squeezes inside your ribcage.

“I’m yours?”

He smiles. Presses a chaste kiss between your eyes, on the tip of your nose, on your lips. The same way he did the other morning.

It all feels somehow sweeter, now.

“Yeah, angel. You’re mine. My girl.”

end notes: tysm for reading! please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of turning this into a series so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in hehe.

Also, I hopped on the bandwagon and made a sideblog for notifs! I'll be doing away with a taglist from here on out, so follow @joelscurlsupdates & turn on notifications if you wanna be notified when I post a new fic :-)

tag list: @janaispunk @amanitacowboy @fhatbhabie @frannyzooey @lola8888673

#joel x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction

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ozzgin · 6 months ago

Note

IM SORRY, but I need a whole smut fanfic with yandere ASMRtist where he just straight up fucks reader and posts it, and people like it

Even better if it was an accident! Although let me add a little disclaimer that this concept turned more BDSM-oriented than I initially planned, but it has no correlation whatsoever to ASMR. Just wanted to point it out because the community already struggles with the sexualization of content. The guy just happens to be kinky. Content: gender neutral reader, male yandere, NSFW, BDSM themes (bondage, spanking, collaring, name-calling)

He’s doing his usual sound recording, yet today it a little different. You're particularly cheeky, kneeling before him, back arched and bottom up. The pillow is soaked with your drool, lips forcefully parted by a bit gag. You're a mess.

Today, he's particularly aroused by your hooded eyes and damp skin. No harm in taking a break from his work, is there? His hand lands another rough spank, followed by his fingers tracing across your privacy. It seems he isn't the only one terribly pent up.

He gives you a little encouraging jolt before clarifying with a spoken order: "Spread."

You obediently follow his instructions, eager to be touched by more than his hand. He grins at your visible excitement.

"My, what a greedy whore you're being today. You're still red and swollen from the spanking, are you sure you want me to do even more damage?"

He presses himself into you as if to prove his point, though the feeling of his throbbing erection really only makes matters worse. You nod desperately and groan.

Once he's done pounding the life out of you, he stands up nonchalantly and dusts off his hands, gazing at his masterpiece: you're sprawled onto the mattress, heaving, dripping with his seed. Another fruitful day of pleasing his Darling.

He quickly finishes the last retouches of the recorded ASMR session and uploads it to his channel, distracted by the thought of a potential second round.

"Don't get up", he demands from his chair. "I'm not done with you yet." Judging by your expression, however, it's not likely you had any other intention to begin with.

Later in the evening, he idly checks his phone, somewhat surprised by the sudden influx of views and comments.

"Wow, this is probably your longest video so far. You're spoiling us", someone writes.

"What's the stuff at the end? Sounds bizarrely wet, yet tingly", someone else wonders.

His smile abruptly pales as it dawns of him: he never stopped recording. In a moment of anger, he throws his phone into the nearest wall, and you stumble over, startled by the commotion.

Damn it! That was his special moment. He feels like he'd just fucked you before the masses. His precious time - meant to be savored - has been tainted by the ears of plebeians.

He marches towards the bedroom, pulling you after him by the little house collar you must wear inside. No matter, he tells himself frantically, he'll just have to redo it. He'll fuck you even better this time, and it'll be for him only.

[Yandere!ASMRtist Concept] | [More yandere works]

#y'all my partner wanted to take a photo of me to commemorate my bravery in writing “throbbing erection” 😭#there's no chill in this house #only relentless mockery #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere asmrtist #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere smut #smut

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aemondsbabe · 2 months ago

Text

Care & Keeping

summary: after aegon suffers injuries at rook's rest, you and aemond nurse him back to health

pairing: aemond targaryen x sister!reader x aegon targaryen

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, canon typical incest, mentioned canon injuries, no gore, threeway relationship, threesome, teasing, orgasm delay, unprotected sex, titty sucking, oral sex (m!receiving), fingering, dirty talk, aegond fr like they kiss and stuff, playful sibling bickering but they fuck about it, aemond is a tit, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.3k

a/n: I DID IT! i posted a fic again! happy to be back!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @tragicsiblings

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🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Such a spoiled thing…,” Aemond mutters while his fingers work through Aegon’s silky hair, the strands freshly washed during his bath earlier in the day – something you and Aemond had assisted with as well, much to the displeasure of Maester Orwyle and the servants. A part of you understood the maester’s concerns, after all a slip or fall would be devastating for your brother this far along in his healing, yet…

Well, he listened to you and Aemond. He would sit in the bath without complaint for the two of you, would let you wash over his delicate skin and comb through his hair with little more than a scoff or eye roll. Not so for the others, to whom he grumbled and carried on, insisting he need not be babied.

“Hush, he deserves to be taken care of,” you chide your little brother playfully, chuckling as you lie against Aegon’s chest, savoring the sound of his heart beating steadily in your ear, “He’s lived through dragon fire, after all… That deserves a reward, no?”

“Listen to our sister, Aem,” your older brother chuckles, petting his hands over you in much the same way yours move over his waist and stomach – careful of the still-healing scars there, “What is it our grandsire says? Wisdom is from the children, some drivel like that?”

“Wisdom oft comes from the mouths of babes, my love,” you correct him with a snigger, smirking when you peer up at him.

“That’s the one!”

“I’m younger than her, you dolt,” Aemond sighs, a bite to his words even as he teases, though Aegon pays it no mind – too busy spread between you and your brother like a lazy, happy house cat.

“Mm, then you should be smarter, no?”

“I…,” Aemond sighs before simply shaking his head with a soft sigh and teasing grumble, combing his fingers through his long hair in mock frustration.

This is how the three of you have spent as much time as you could since that fateful day at Rook’s Rest, when Aegon and Aemond both nearly lost their lives plummeting to the battlefield in a fiery tangle. Aemond had, by the grace of the Gods, escaped without too many injuries. However, your eldest brother had not been so lucky and had been caught in the fires of Meleys, leaving him with life threatening burns and broken limbs that had thankfully healed almost miraculously well over the last few weeks.

A soft sigh leaves your lips as you snuggle against Aegon, saying yet another quick prayer to the Seven as thanks for keeping him safe and, relatively, in one piece. Unfortunately, Aemond had been made to step in and act as regent, which meant that the three of you couldn’t spend all your time together, much to your displeasure.

That is what had kept you all apart for most of the day – official duties that had carried on much too long, especially for your younger brother. By the time he had finished with Small Council business, it was well past supper and you and Aegon had already been tucked in bed together, enjoying the cool breeze blowing in from Blackwater Bay. As nonchalant as Aemond acts about the whole affair, his true feelings are betrayed time and time again when he stumbles when he all but rips his tunic and boots off, nearly in a frenzy, eager to join the two of you in bed.

“How does the Council fare, little brother? Have they fallen to pieces in my absence?”

“Mm,” Aemond hums, the corners of his lips just barely lifting into a smirk while he rubs over Aegon’s sore shoulders, making the elder sigh in contentment, “They’re being much too soft on that traitorous bitch queen for my liking… forcing us sit up here like a herd of lambs for slaughter.”

Aegon lets out a soft giggle, the sound of it reverberating in your ear while he tilts his head back to look up at his brother, “And what would you do, hm? Take Vhagar and sack Dragonstone singlehandedly?”

“She could do it,” the prince regent muses, leaning down and pressing soft kisses against your older brother’s head, his lilac eye sparkling at the thought of turning that blasted place into no more than a fiery heap of rubble. His lips linger against Aegon’s pale hair, muffling the sound of his soft chuckle, “Why not turn all of those spoiled bastards into smoldering piles of ash and be done with it?”

“You, dearest brother, are beginning to sound very much like our uncle,” you tease, peering up at Aemond with a smirk, “All violence and warfare.”

A soft laugh is pulled from your lips as your brother’s angular face twists into a disgusted scowl, “You think so lowly of me as to compare me to him, sweet sister?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it,” you murmur knowingly, sharing a playful glance with Aegon, much to Aemond’s disapproval.

“You both know very well I hate that creepy old –”

“Then why is your cock hard against my back, brother?” Aegon quickly interjects, descending into raucous giggles. The sound of his laughter quickly gets to you and your lips crack into a wide smile before you can hide it, a snort of laughter following soon after.

Above you, Aemond sputters for a few seconds before finally letting out a pained groan, though his lips are turned up into a subtle smile.

“You want to fuck our uncle,” Aegon giggles, the near giddy sound of his laughter reverberating in your ear.

Your eldest brother’s laughter is cut short as Aemond behind him begins peppering kisses over his neck, sweeping his hair out of the way as the elder lets out a quiet gasp, the planes of his stomach tensing beneath your cheek.

“And what if it’s you I wish to fuck, Your Grace?” The name makes Aegon shudder while goosebumps bloom over his pale skin as he lets out a thick sigh, the sheets at his waist beginning to tent.

Aemond’s words cause heat to bloom between your own thighs and you smile up at him as he shifts behind your older brother, no doubt pressing his clothed length against his back, letting him feel it.

“Awful tease,” Aegon whines, the petulance in his voice making you chuckle. It’s then that he directs his darkening violet gaze to you, quirking a brow, “Don’t you act all innocent, as if you haven’t been torturing me for weeks, little minx.”

A smirk blooms on your lips as his largely uninjured arm raises to encircle your waist, holding you more tightly against him while you press a soft trail of kisses over his pale skin.

“I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean,” the words leave your mouth in a soft hum, warm against the patch of blond hair on his chest. A lie, of course. Maester Orwyle had taken great pains over the past few weeks to make it absolutely crystal clear that Aegon was in no state to be played with, that all of his body needed rest and healing.

The old man had said it in the hopes of you and Aemond keeping Aegon away from the Street of Silk, of course. There was no doubt in your mind that your older brother could talk any of the guards or servants into smuggling him into the city. Yet, little did they know he hadn’t been whoring in months, not since the three of you had finally given into your desires.

It had been well into the night when Aemond had stumbled into your chambers, dripping with rainwater and heaving soft sobs. You’d held him closely and listened as he had explained the awful mess that had happened with Rhaenyra’s youngest bastard, his voice trembling so hard you’d had to strain to understand at parts.

You’d ushered him into older brother’s chambers quickly afterwards, not knowing what else to do and naively praying he might be able to help – to do something, anything, as king. Being Aegon, of course, the event had devolved into drinking – just to soothe Aemond’s nerves, he had said.

The three of you woke together in the morning, naked and tangled up in His Grace’s soft sheets.

With the promise of war looming heavily on the horizon, you had scarcely separated from them since then. There was a possibility of losing them both and you wanted to savor them for as long as you could, for whatever time was left.

“Ah, you don’t, do you?” Aegon’s voice cuts through the visions swirling in your head, pulling you back to the present. His hand skims down over your back and hip until he can cup the curve of your ass, drawing a breathy laugh from you, “So you’ve just been wearing these gauzy, insufferable excuses for nightgowns for no good reason, then?”

“Perhaps I wear them to catch the eye of the guards as I make my way here?” Your eyes gleam with mischief when you peer up at him, knowing exactly how territorial he can be.

His hips rut up against the sheets, cock straining beneath the white linen of them and already leaving wet patches on the fabric while a deep groan rumbles from his chest. Behind him, Aemond chuckles while he continues to press kisses over Aegon’s pale skin, marking up each side of his neck.

“Teasing cunts, the both of you.”

“Tsk, there’s no need for that, you ungrateful cretin,” your little brother snaps, although there’s no real meanness in his tone – merely a strange, brotherly teasing that you fear you’ll never truly understand, “To think, we’ve been kind enough to take care of you all this time and this is how you behave.”

“Aemond’s right, my love,” your voice comes out as a soft coo, even as you peer at your eldest brother with a playful smirk, “We’ve been so kind to you… How many times do you think we swallowed your seed before you were well enough to fuck again?”

“W-Well, I–” Aegon stammers, flushing so hotly that even the pale column of his neck turns a slight pink shade.

“Mm, all so mummy wouldn’t see how you’d stain the sheets otherwise, isn’t that right, dearest sister?”

Your lips curl into an almost vicious smile at Aemond’s jab, relishing the way Aegon’s dark eyes widen at the mere mention of your mother. Poor thing, you remember how embarrassed he’d been the first time he’d been desperate enough to rut against the bed sheets until they were dirtied with his spend, left to his own devices late at night after you and Aemond had retired to your own chambers.

He’d sobbed against your chest that evening while he recounted the Maester mentioning it in the morning, pleased that all the king’s precious parts were still in working order, yet that did little to numb the sting of your mother’s stare – evidently disappointed that he’d debase himself in such a manner.

“Quite right, little brother,” you all but purr, rising to your knees before carefully maneuvering yourself over one of Aegon’s thick thighs, mindful still of any tender spots, “Isn’t there anything you’d like to say to us, Aeg?”

“I… T-Thank you,” he finally manages to huff out, violet eyes staring hungrily at where your warm heat presses against him – achingly hot through the thin fabric of the sheets.

“Good boy, Your Grace,” Aemond whispers against the shell of your brother’s ear, his gaze just as hungry as Aegon’s as they both look over you – the lacy, satin material of your nightgown doing precious little to disguise anything below it.

“He can be sweet when he wants to be,” you murmur, smiling at the way your eldest brother’s head tips back against Aemond’s pale chest when you lightly scratch your nails over his tummy, tracing a path down beneath the sheets. An amused little giggle spills from your lips when his hips rut against your hand the second you gently grab at his length, giving it a light squeeze, “Can’t you, lovely boy?”

Grunting, Aegon merely nods while soft whimpers spill from his lips at the feel of your hand on him, of Aemond’s lips against his neck.

“Please, fuck,” he groans, swallowing thickly and licking at his lips while he tries to buck up into your hand – his movements jerky and uncoordinated from being off of his feet for so long, “Seven Hells…”

Giggling at his grumbling, you tilt your head to the side as you look over him. Even injured and half-healed, he’s beautiful. In all the places where Aemond is lean and toned, Aegon is thicker, more stocky and soft; the juxtaposition between the two of them has always made your heart flutter.

“Tell us what you want.”

Aegon whines at Aemond’s firm command, but obeys nonetheless. The way his dark gaze immediately finds your own makes your lips curl into a proud smirk.

“Want you, please…,” he finally breathes and disentangles his hands from where they’d been clawing at the sheets to instead run them over your thighs, one moving more easily than the other – his injured arm still trembles.

“Mm, you’ll need to be more specific,” You can resist teasing, he just begs so prettily.

“Gods, your cunt,” the way he impatiently growls the words makes you snigger, “Insolent little wit– Agh!”

“You’ll be nice to our sister,” Aemond hisses, smirking as he gives a harsh pinch to Aegon’s nipples, “Or you can lie here and watch me enjoy her instead.”

A scowl blooms on your eldest brother’s face at the threat and he gives an almighty huff before thankfully settling; your little brother may have no qualms about denying him, but you prefer to indulge him, truly. Smiling wickedly, you fix Aegon with an almost innocent expression – brows drawn up just slightly, eyes widened… before sliding your gaze from his violet eyes and up to Aemond’s single lilac one.

“You know, baby brother,” you start, arching your back just enough to press your breasts out enticingly, putting on a show for them both, “If I’m to take His Majesty’s cock, I’ll need some help readying myself…”

Aemond’s snicker is such a sharp contrast to Aegon’s broken groan.

“Wouldn’t you like that?” Your younger brother rasps into your eldest’s ear, petting through his hair with a gentleness that one wouldn’t expect from such calloused hands, “Hm? To watch while I prepare our lovely girl for your lovely cock, dear brother?”

Aegon nearly wheezes at that, as if the mere thought of it has knocked all the wind from his lungs.

“Fuck, please,” he whines, nuzzling against Aemond’s touch like a cat, “Want it, please.”

“Anything to get my cock in her faster,” is the unspoken truth there, one he’d made the mistake of voicing before. Aemond had made sure that was a long night.

“Shh, sh, sh,” he soothes him now, gently petting over his chest while he kisses over the side of his face, “You’ll get to watch.”

Aegon lets out slightly pained grunts as Aemond works his way out from behind him to stand at the edge of the bed, taking the time to make sure he’s propped comfortably against the pillows before his touch finally leaves him. With a dark chuckle, your little brother swiftly climbs back up on the bed, nude save for the soft linen trousers hanging low on his hips.

“Now, I believe I have some business to attend to, don’t I, love?” He whispers against the shell of your ear while he takes his place behind you – kneeling and holding you against his chest. As always, a barely there sigh leaves his lips at the way the soft satin of your nightgown feels against his skin; it’s a sensation he’s grown to crave ever since you began ordering those special silks – the ones imported from Lys, the same ones Alicent insists on using for her sleepwear as well.

He’s never told a soul, but the feeling brings him comfort – brings back memories of being held and comforted, of before his mother became hardened to the world.

You can’t help the gasp that tumbles from your lips when he bites at your neck and roughly tilts your head to the side, long fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of your neck, “Please, little brother.”

“You know I’d never deny you, sweetling,” his breath is warm against the crook of your neck while his hands caress over your body, drawing soft whimpers and groans from the man lying on the bed below you. Aemond takes his time, never one to rush, and lets his touch linger over every part of you.

Starting at your shoulders, he runs his hands over your arms before skirting them back up and over your sides, making your nightgown ride further and further up your hips as he does. Just as he cups your breasts, you lean down against Aegon’s chest to let him feel the way Aemond’s long fingers work against you, mindful not to rest against him too firmly.

The heat from being trapped between their two bodies is nearly stifling but you’d never dare pull away.

“Gods, Aem,” you whine when he plucks at your nipples, rolling them between his long fingers while you pant against Aegon’s pale throat. Your older brother’s good arm comes up to circle possessively around your waist, keeping you pressed against him, long past caring if it sparks soreness within him.

“You feel so good,” Aegon whimpers against your hair, his voice little more than a needy growl while he ruts his hips up against your stomach. Chuckling, you nip over his collarbones just enough to leave small marks behind, painting him as yours.

“If I feel good now, just think of how good I’ll feel around you,” you murmur against his chest, relishing the way he keens – the way his cock twitches against you, doubtlessly leaking steadily against the thin bed sheet separating the two of you.

“Fucking dripping,” Aemond mutters behind you, letting out a satisfied chuckle against your spine while his deft fingers begin circling over your sensitive pearl, “Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

“Always for the two of you,” your voice shakes as you reply, words getting caught in your throat with each movement of your brother’s long fingers against your center.

“Did you hear that, brother?” Aemond says smugly, his low voice dripping with satisfaction, “Seems our dear sister is quite the little whore for us.”

“Mhm, mhm,” your eldest brother strenuously agrees, jerkily nodding his head while you let him hump against you, savoring the way the hard line of his cock presses against your belly, “O-Our whore, yes.”

“You’d better not let him spend,” Aemond growls, his good eye narrowing when he sees what you’re allowing to happen. He tugs at your hair hard enough to have you hissing and smirks at the sound.

“I won’t, I won’t,” you huff, rolling your eyes only to yelp when his large hand suddenly comes down on your ass. You can’t help the way you press back into it, the harsh sting settling over your skin like a warm blanket, “Gods…”

“Play nice,” he rasps, grinning at the way you cry out when he abruptly pushes two fingers inside your already-fluttering walls, “Or Aegon won’t be the only one left wanting.”

“Mhm, yes, little brother,” you rush to say, readily agreeing – knowing all too well from experience that if Aemond meant to deny you, that there would be no talking him out of it. Lucky for him, the prospect of that was enough to placate you. Not that you even have the lung capacity to sass him, not with the way his long fingers move within you.

Aegon whimpers in time with you each time the pads of your brother’s fingers brush against that sensitive spot within you, as if he can feel the pressure within you too. He lets you hold onto him and hardly even protests when Aemond angles your hips in such a way that the planes of your stomach don’t even rub over his neglected cock, the absolute prick.

“F-Fuck, oh, fuck,” the curses are all but knocked from you with ear harsh thrust of Aemond’s fingers, the chambers silent save for the steady crackle of the fire in the hearth and the wet squelching noises sounding from between your legs – which only serve to spur your little brother on further.

“So tight, Seven Hells,” he mutters, leaning over you and trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses up the curve of your spine. You can feel his lips curve up into a cocky grin when he presses his thumb against your bud, drawing a loud, gasping cry from your lips.

“Aem, Aemond, I–”

“Shh, shh,” he soothes, smiling at the way Aegon’s hands, both of them, even the shaky, still-healing one, thread into your hair and comb through it – a gesture that’s calmed you since the three of you were children, “Be good and take it.”

That’s a lot easier said than done, especially when the world seems to tilt on its axis when he manages to slip a third finger into your aching sex. The stretch of it only makes the fire threatening to consume you burn all the brighter and twin groans fill the room when your walls pulse greedily around him.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Aegon all but breathes, his voice raw and shaky and dripping with a soft kind of praise he only ever gives to you, “So good for us.”

“Mm, our big brother’s right, sweetling,” Aemond hums, rubbing his thumb in tighter and tighter circles over your pearl and focusing the attention of his fingers within you on that spot that he knows makes you see stars. The effect is instantaneous and after no more than a couple seconds, you’re all but sobbing as you go limp on top of Aegon, unable to so much as hold yourself up as pleasure courses through you.

Your younger brother smirks, you can’t see it but you can feel it, and groans low in his throat when your walls clench so tightly around his fingers that he can hardly move them at all. The only sounds coming from you are near pitiful squeaks in time with the movements of his hand.

“Gods, so close, aren’t you?” Aemond all but growls against the shell of your ear, just as Aegon pulls you forward into a searing kiss, “Show it to me.”

Powerless to do anything else, you let out a choked whimper against Aegon’s lips – practically sobbing into his mouth while his tongue licks against your own. Your high crests and crashes into you like the waves at Storm’s End, almost violent and bloodthirsty in the way it sends your pulse racing, in the way it nearly engulfs you.

All the while, your brothers hold you steady. Aegon keeps an arm slung around your back, anchoring you to him, while Aemond uses his free hand to hold you upright as he wrings every drop of pleasure he can conjure up from you – not daring to stop until your pleasured moans turn to tortured gasps.

Finally, Aemond pulls his fingers from you with a satisfied grunt, leaving you panting as you slip from atop Aegon, shifting to lie beside him instead, curled against his largely uninjured side. Your eyes have hardly fluttered open before Aemond’s moving, leaning over Aegon like a shadowcat, finally victorious in hunting down its prey.

“Taste,” he whispers, bringing his fingers, still glistening with the evidence of your orgasm, to your eldest brother’s lips. As usual, Aegon wastes no time and eagerly parts his hips and lets Aemond press them to his tongue. Your breath catches in your throat when his violet eyes roll back at the taste of you on your brother’s skin, a hungry, needy whine sounds from this throat while he takes the time to suck them clean.

Your younger brother’s eye sparkles as he watches, his cock tenting the dark fabric of his trousers and pressing against Aegon’s thigh.

“Aeg, don’t be greedy,” you finally pipe up, the air back in your lungs and a playful smirk on your lips, “Share with our little brother; he deserves it, no?”

Two sets of eyes land upon you, guided by the suggestive tone of your voice. Poor Aegon looks wide eyed and dazed, already half out of his mind and you haven’t even started on him. Aemond, on the other hand, looks downright predatory – dangerous in the low light.

With a breathy chuckle, he sets upon your eldest brother, capturing his lips in a heated, almost savage kiss. Aegon sobs into it, his hips lifting on their own accord beneath the sheets as Aemond nips at his lip and sucks at his tongue with a barely contained lust. The elder reaches up with his good hand and threads his fingers through the younger’s long, pearlescent hair just as a rough, sword-worn hand gets wrapped around his throat, holding him in place.

The sight of their frenzied affection makes your thighs clench, your core throbbing once more, uncaring that you’d found release only moments ago. Unable to resist, you lean in until your lips brush over the soft, pale skin of Aegon’s chest. You pepper it with kisses, making him whine and whimper into Aemond’s mouth. Shifting the bed sheets out of the way, you can’t help but bite at your lower lip at the sight of his cock – angry and flushed and leaking copiously, leaving a pool of it on his tummy.

“Mm, it’s cruel to let him suffer this way,” you say lowly, meeting Aemond’s eye when he finally pulls away from Aegon, lips curling into a smirk that matches your own, “I promised the poor thing my cunt, I think he’s earned it.”

“Please, please, f-fucking, please,” your eldest brother whimpers pitifully, hips bucking while you run your hand over his thigh as he looks between you and Aemond imploringly, violet eyes glassy.

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you,” you promise, pressing one last kiss against his chest before turning to Aemond, “Help me onto him.”

You’re moving before your brother can protest, can think of some other reason to tease. Ever since Aegon was injured, you’ve needed Aemond’s help to stay balanced the scant few times you’ve taken him. So much of his upper half was injured that you’re hardly able to put weight on one side of his chest, even now, which makes staying upright without assistance hardly worth the possible risk.

“Fine, fine, I suppose the little whelp’s earned a treat,” your brother sighs and slips off the bed, taking care to help you straddle Aegon’s hips once more while he stands at the bedside. You take a second to pull off your lacy nightgown, smirking at the groans of appreciation you get in return.

“Gah–fuck!” Aegon grunts the second your slick center presses against his aching length and presses his lips tightly together as his eyes squeeze shut, his fingers white-knuckled while he claws at the sheets, “S-Sweetling, please, please, I n-need you.”

“And you’ll have me,” your voice is sweet when you reply, soft and breathy. Your touches are the same, knowing that’s what he needs now. Balancing with one hand securely on Aemond’s shoulder, you watch as he leans down just enough to grab at your brother’s length and notch it at your entrance.

“O-Oh… fuck, f-fuck, Seven Hells,” the words sound as if they’re being punched from Aegon’s chest, like he can hardly get enough of a lungfull to speak while you slowly sink down onto him.

While he pants below you, nearly thrashing, you aren’t doing much better. Throwing your head back, you let your eyes flutter shut as a series of breathy moans spill past your lips. Silently, you’re thankful Aemond took the time to prepare you – sometimes they both get so wound up, preparation goes out the window and while you have come to love the nearly-painful ache of taking them without it, it’s always so much better like this.

“Gods!” You nearly screech when Aemond suddenly rubs at your pearl, making you jump slightly atop Aegon, who lets out an equally embarrassing noise at the way your walls suddenly contract around him.

Aemond, on the other hand, looks entirely too pleased with himself as he straightens again. He takes the time to brush a lock of hair from your face and cups your cheek in such a gentle way that you nearly ignore the mischievous glimmer in his eye, “Just getting you started, sweet sister. I expect a show.”

Your teeth sink into your lower lip at the cadence of his low voice and you nearly draw blood when he tugs at the drawstring on his trousers and lowers them just enough to free his length, the sight of it pulling twin groans from you and your eldest brother.

Spurred on by the sight of it, of Aemond pleasuring himself to the vision of you atop Aegon, you begin rocking your hips. A satisfied sigh is tugged pulled from your lips at the feel of his cock moving within you – perfectly contoured to nestle against every sensitive spot within you as the head kisses your most inner depths.

“Fuck, Aegon,” you breathe, letting out little gasps every time your bud brushes against the patch of blond hairs at the base of his cock. Each movement of him inside you stokes at the fire within you that’s steadily roaring back to life, greedy even after your previous release.

“Don’t stop, don’t… Please, s-sister, I need–”

“I know, my love, I know,” you soothe him in a gentle tone, your free hand brushing gently over his chest and shoulder, trailing lightly enough over the column of his neck that he shivers, “I won’t stop.”

A shiver runs through you when he nods and stares up at you – gazes at you with those big, dark eyes like you’re some goddess, like you’re the Mother in flesh form, taking his cock again and again. As usual, his eyes are quickly drawn to your chest and you can’t help but chuckle at the hungry look painted so clearly on his pale features – pink lips parted as he pants and whimpers.

“Here, precious brother,” you whisper, carefully leaning forward, just enough to allow your breasts to sway in front of his face, peaked nipples just barely brushing over his lips, “Suck, go on.”

You need not encourage him further as he quickly leans up just the slightest bit, just enough to wrap his full lips around one of your sensitive buds and suckle as if his life depended on it. A low, carnal groan sounds from his throat and vibrates against your skin, the sound of it making the walls of your center squeeze at him greedily. The knot in your belly grows tighter and tighter and judging from the desperate, harsh cants of Aegon's hips, you know neither of you will be lasting much longer.

For a long moment, the only sounds that can be heard in the quiet of your eldest brother’s chambers are harsh pants, the noise of skin on skin, and Aemond’s barely concealed growls.

“Gods, I– Fuck,” he pants, one hand stroking slowly over his generous length, pausing every so often to collect the slick steadily leaking from its flushed head, all the while his eye dances over you and Aegon, never settling in one place very long, “Love watching the two of you, s-so pretty…”

The little hitch in his voice makes your heart clench and sends a pleasured shiver up your spine – unlike Aegon, it’s hard to reduce Aemond to a stuttering mess so each time his words get caught in his throat is like a small badge of honor for you.

The slick noises of your brother’s hand moving over his cock soon draw Aegon’s attention and he pulls away from your breast with a shuddered gasp, his good hand white knuckled on your thigh. He looks up at you almost apologetically, a new hunger evident in his darkened gaze, before his eyes trail over to Aemond’s length.

“C’mon, then,” your little brother grunts, his lips pulled into a dirty smirk as he edges closer to the bedside, angling himself better for Aegon, “Good boy, go on.”

Licking his lips, Aegon leans forward just enough to get at Aemond’s cock; you and Aemond each let out soft moans when his mouth sucks at the flushed head. Aegon’s hips buck up into yours at your brother’s taste on his tongue and you know he’s close, teetering on the edge judging by how he shivers beneath you.

“Mm– fuck, yes,” Aemond grunts, rocking his hips little by little into your eldest brother’s waiting mouth, the sound makes your core clench once more and you can’t take it any longer. His low, breathy chuckle hardly meets your ears when you hastily trail a hand down your own stomach and start rubbing between your thighs – your fingers moving in tight, practiced circles over your pearl.

The feeling of your walls pulsating around his length again and again has Aegon crying out, the sound muffled around Aemond’s cock. You can feel his muscles tense beneath you while you spear yourself onto his length over and over, each movement causing the fire within you to burn brighter, to rage hotter.

You brace yourself for his release, clinging to Aemond’s shoulder with one hand while the other works furiously at your bud, and yet…

“You don’t finish until she does,” Aemond breathes, shoving his cock deep enough down Aegon’s throat that the only reply he can give is a garbled groan. His violet eyes are wide and glassy, silently pleading with Aemond even though he knows it’s useless.

“I-I’m close, I– Gods,” you pant, thighs burning while you all but thrash on top of your older brother, angling yourself in just the right way – causing the tip of his cock to rub against the most sensitive spot within you. Your eyes roll back in your head and stars dance in your vision and the feel of a gentle hand at your breast nearly makes you jump.

Even lost in his own pleasure, Aegon would never forget you. He moans helplessly around Aemond as he thumbs at your nipple, providing just enough sensation to send you tipping over the edge.

“Ah! Gods– Gods, f-fuck!” You cry out, your thighs trembling on either side of your brother's hips as pleasure overtakes you once more. Your lips part in a silent moan while your core all but milks Aegon’s high from him as well, the feel of his hot spend within you only adding to your pleasure.

“Mmph, mmph!” He whines around Aemond as you slowly come to a stop on top of him, overstimulation quickly getting to you both.

Aemond gasps at the sight before him, seeing the two of you in the throes of pleasure only adding to his own.

“Gonna… o-oh, fuck–” He grunts and before you can register what’s happening, he’s got an arm wrapped around your neck and is hauling you toward him. Your lips connect with his at a nearly bruising intensity and you can hear Aegon moaning with satisfaction when your brother finishes on his tongue, coating it with his spend.

Your lips move against his for a long moment while he trembles, hardly able to stay upright while he licks into your mouth – the kiss more teeth and tongues than anything else. Finally, he pulls away, nipping at your bottom lip as he does before he fixes you with a nearly arrogant smirk.

“Let our girl have a taste, big brother,” he drawls, pushing you back toward Aegon with a mischievous smirk.

“Mm, how generous of you,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes, shaking your head at Aemond before meeting Aegon in a heated kiss. Aemond’s familiar taste settles on your tongue while the man in question takes his place back behind Aegon, propping him on his chest and sighing at the familiar warm weight of his brother.

When Aegon is pulled away from you a moment later, you use the opportunity to shift back to his side, knowing he must be sore from having you atop him, even if he dared not show it. You trail kisses over his neck while Aemond occupies his mouth, greedily licking his own spend from his brother’s tongue.

“You were so good for us,” Aemond praises him, his voice soft and gentle in a way he only ever uses here – in the calm, candlelit privacy with each of you like this, “Did everything I said, just perfect.”

“Mhm, our perfect brother,” you purr into Aegon’s ear, relishing the way he shudders. He’s quiet after he spends, the only time you won’t hear a sarcastic remark or a dirty joke. Instead, he’s… subdued, pliable in your arms – breathing easy while his eyes flutter closed, relishing the attention you give him.

You chuckle softly at the easy, satiated smile on his lips before your eyes meet Aemond’s over your older brother’s mess of tangled silver hair – something that’ll need to be sorted in the morning.

“I love you,” you whisper against the side of Aegon’s head, pressing a soft kiss there, “Both of you.”

“Sap,” Aegon quips, making you giggle.

“I hate you,” you murmur playfully, giving his good shoulder a soft shove.

“Not nearly as much as I detest you.”

“Both of you are absolute ballaches,” Aemond finally sighs.

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purpleph4se · 2 months ago

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devotion p2

armand x reader

warnings | smut, afab! reader, dom! armand, oral (fem), hypnosis (kinda sorta), blood drinking (im sorry i had too), praise, creampie

a/n | HEY EVERYONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! so so sorry for disappearing for a minute but i basically forced myself to finish this fic since i felt like it needed a p2 so feast my children. i wanted to finish it sooner so i would be able to post it on halloween but writers block fucked me sideways. enjoy as always <3 crossposted on my ao3

part 1 here <3

your mind was still hazy from your orgasm, you briefly feel armand shift behind you and settle in between your legs.

lowering himself, armand placed a trail of kisses over your tummy, letting his tongue sneak out from time to time. he held your gaze, and you, still in the afterglow of pleasure, couldn’t look away. his golden eyes were so tender and mellow, capturing yours in a trance.

he resumed his kisses over your belly, his hands gripped both your thighs to spread them wide apart. he rubbed soothing circles on your thighs with his thumbs, his lips whispering sweet words of praise and encouragement against the sensitive skin.

“you’re being so good for me, beloved..” his voice was sweet honey pouring into your ears, it left tingles all over your skin. his kisses lowered from your navel towards your core in a torturous pace, savoring every contact his lips had with your supple skin.

“you trust me, don’t you?”

and there he was again, you swore you heard him inside your head. too dazed to even ask him how he’s doing you instead nod dumbly at his question. he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, right?

“good, good…” he positioned himself in between your thighs, not at your core just yet but instead he placed kisses upon your thigh. starting at the crevice where your thigh met your cunt, he trailed soft kisses up. you sighed, quivering under his touch.

his gaze met yours once again, “i promise this won’t hurt…” he whispered. you opened your mouth to speak before he unhinged his jaw, a perfect set of fangs almost suddenly appeared and then disappeared once they sank into the flesh of your thigh.

you gasped, throwing your head back in pain, but it lasted only a second before a wave of bliss went through you, a high from him sucking the blood from your thigh. for a moment you thought he was going to kill you.

“a—armand—“

he continued to drink from you as you watched his pupils expand as he tasted your blood. he unattached himself from your thigh, your blood soaking his mouth, dripping onto the sheets. you felt lost in a haze. “my love, you taste divine…” he mumbled, lapping at the blood leaking from the punctures he left, seemingly having a soothing effect on the wounds.

“armand…wh-what are y-“

“shh, beloved. don’t speak. don’t think…”

he was in your head again. what the fuck was happening? armand continued to press soothing kisses on your thigh. alarm bells were going off in your head but you couldn’t help but stay still for him. far too entranced by the angelic man in between your legs.

“let me take care of you…”

and like a puppet pulled by his strings, you begged him, begged him to please you. he pulled away just a little to admire the sight in front of him. his golden eyes were now fixated on your core. the rich and fragrant scent of your arousal filled his nostrils and made him almost light-headed.

reaching out with the tip of a finger, he lightly prodded at the small pearl crowning your core and lowering at your entrance, eliciting a cry out of you.

armand observed fascinated by how your body reacted to his barely there touch, your cunt crying at his touch and coating the tip of his finger. you were sopping wet already, your sweet nectar already leaving small stains on his bedsheets.

taking his digit, he lifted it to his face and watched for a moment how it glistened with your essence coating it. his piercing eyes locking with your as his tongue rolled out of his mouth, sensually licking your nectar off his finger.

“oh, beloved…”

you let out a loud gasp as his lips and tongue made contact with your cunt. he started slow, teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue before moving his lips to your clit, suckling gently on it and then starting his pattern again.

then he’s eating into you, lips and tongue and edges of teeth devouring you like the lion to the lamb. your eyes clench shut so hard that you see stars in the blackness.

his lips close around your clit and he sucks on it it, ravenous, your slick was so enticing for armand, just like your blood, he started feeling drunk of it. he soon picked up his pace, drinking from you desperately, eating you with such care and need just like when he was drinking from you.

“a-ahh armand—please-!” you struggled trying to form coherent words. you squirmed and wiggled in his grasp, your hands searching for something, anything, to hold onto and ground you to reality. both of them ended latching to his black locks of hair, your mind torn between pushing him away in fear for your life, or pulling him even closer to keep him pleasuring you.

It was too much, and at the same time, it wasn’t enough.

your hips rolled instinctively into his greedy mouth, your legs shaking uncontrollably, giving him no choice but to hold onto your thighs with a deadly grip, effectively pinning you down onto his mattress and leaving you with no chance to move away from him.

the entire room felt like it was spinning, filled with your wanton cries and the dirty slurping sounds coming from armands mouth, as well as his constant moans of satisfaction. your back arched constantly, and you kept whining his name like a desperate prayer for mercy. mercy you wouldn’t receive from him anytime soon.

your hands couldn’t stay still in a single place, soon they had left his hair to instead grab onto the bedsheets or the pillow supporting your head. you lowered one hand to look for something else to hold onto for dear life, when it suddenly found one of his.

instinctively, you both laced your fingers together, chasing your peak. your grip to his hand tightened as you felt yourself slipping over the edge. armand must sense that your climax is dawning on you so quickly, too quickly for his liking, because he slides from your body and he leaves a parting kiss on your cunt. he stared at you, looking like a wild, hungry animal, there was only a small golden ring left in dilated eyes.

“i—i need you to cum on my cock..”

your chest rises and falls in shaking breaths. the sight of him between your parted legs, his beautiful mouth stained with your slick pulling into a gentle smirk that makes your cunt ache as well as strike a deep fear in you.

"would you enjoy that, beloved?" he purrs the question. you swallow thickly as you try to collect your thoughts. your mind reels with the whiplash of having been so close to your breaking point and then suddenly back to total lack of stimulation.

and as if the words were pulled out of you “yes, please armand—i need you…” you watch him push up to sit on his knees.

he towers over you with zero effort, all slender and sinewy and spectral. he unbuckles his pants and pulls out the evidence of his carnality as it lays heavy and hard against his leg, the slit leaking slightly on his tan flesh.

you felt dizzy nearly drooling at the view presented before you speak again. "i-i want you to fuck me, please—please make me yours armand, i wanna—“ you gasp see his cock throb at your words and he leans in closer, pushing your knees farther apart. armand presses an incendiary kiss to your lips to put an end to your begging.

you gasp brokenly against his mouth as the head pushes into you. its girth splits you cleanly and the overload of sensation has you clutching onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your hands into his hair.

"shh-shh my love, shh-shh..." he hushes you, his whispers coming out with a tremor as he hilts fully inside you. being this close, you can smell the metallic sweetness of your own fluids on his chilled breath. his hips roll gently to bottom out.

the both of you sit panting for a moment before he begins to push back and forth in rhythm. his pace is slow and easy, and he drinks in the sounds you make under him.

"taking me so—so well, love..” croons, and his tone gives away just how much he aches for you. the swing of his hips brings breathless sounds and trembly sighs from you and you can tell he's feasting on the chorus you're giving up so generously.

"you will be mine forever." he murmurs, lips against your neck, feeling your sweet blood rushing through your veins. "you know that, yes? whose you belong to and whose you are?"

"i’m yours-" your reply is a rushed tumble and you cant your hips upwards to catch his thrusts at a better angle. in a blur, light bursts behind your eyes and you sing delightfully with it. "i’m yours!"

armand almost whimpers at your words while driving his hips into your soft willing body. his mouth is almost like hellfire against your flesh, branding you so that only he can have you. he’s resisting the urge to skin his fangs into your thoughts yet whole time he's whispering and chanting in your mind that you belong to him and him alone.

heat flashes hot and white through your whole being as you're suddenly wracked with your orgasm. it like dying, like flying, like being tossed end over end as he slams into you through your climax.

he’s gripping you close like he's scared you'll vanish suddenly, rutting into you like an animal as he chases the delicious pulsing warmth of your walls. he can feel you clutching him as well, blunt nails digging into his back and hand tangled in his dark hair.

your name is like poetry on his tongue, twisted into art by ecstasy and prayer, as he finally spills his seed deep in your core, so searing that you could believe instead that it's actually freezing. his hips rock to a stop.

he stays above you, panting with you in the heady aftershocks that leave sparks in the corners of your visions.

armand shifts to kiss you, in which you can taste yourself on him in a way that leaves you whining into his mouth, and leans up all the way. he is so wickedly beautiful in the moonlight.

"will you stay…?" he breathes the words, voice and low and inviting. louis flashes in his mind for a moment, not for long as he watches you tiredly smile as he slides from you. you're not sure why but, you tell him what he wants to hear.

“i’ll stay, armand”

#armand x reader #iwtv x reader #iwtv #armand iwtv #iwtv smut #my writing

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dani-ya-dig · 2 months ago

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Something that I really love about Sam, and have always loved since I listened to his first video, is how he entirely subverts the expectations for vampires. Not just modern day ones but the expectations that have always been there for vampires.

(And his southern accent but that’s not what this post is about)

When vampires first rose to popularity, what they represented was a fear of sexuality. They were inherently sexual creatures of the night who lured innocent people into the shadows with their powers of seduction only to drink their blood.

We even see this in most of the redacted vampires. Vincent was literally introduced as “the flirty vampire”. While later he was given some depth and we learn that he just picked up that act from Porter, it was still an integral part of him in the beginning. Even Alexis, as little from her as we have heard, she speaks in a very low, sultry tone. Even when she isn’t trying to be flirtatious.

This is a very inherent part of vampires some lore even describes it as a power that they have. (I believe this is addressed within Castle Audios lore as “the lure”)

But Sam doesn’t have that. He isn’t flirty. He isn’t seductive. Not in the traditional way anyways. (Because HOO BOY AM I SEDUCED)

Sam doesn’t try to lure Darlin in when they first meet. He doesn’t really try to lure darlin at all, really. They just naturally grew close. It was active flirtation, it was just chemistry and care.

Even when they do admit their feelings for each other Sam still doesn’t want to have sex. He hadn’t for over a decade, and the last person he had sex with stole his life away from him. Of course he didn’t feel comfortable.

And I think this all helps to portray the most important part of Sam’s backstory.

He wasn’t supposed to be a vampire.

He never planned on being turned. He didn’t want Alexis to turn him. He never wanted to be that.

The same could be said for Vincent, he didn’t wanted to be turned either. He wasn’t given a choice. However, Vincent still took on that flirty vampire persona.

I think this illustrates the difference in how Vincent and Sam grew into their turning over time. Vincent, while extremely depressed in the beginning of his turning, grew into it. He eventually learned to accept himself as a vampire, and even embrace it. I think him taking on that traditional, flirty vampire act, was his way of embracing what he now was.

Lovely’s part in Vincent’s character growth, rather than teaching him to accept himself as a vampire, was helping him to learn that he didn’t have to be someone new just because his mortal self is dead.

Sam, while he accepted the fact that he was a vampire passively, he never really embraced it as part of himself. I think this is really well illustrated by how he handled feeding before he fed from Darlin. “I’ve never been one to savor the taste. I just chug it like a supplement and pour a cup of something I actually like the taste of”. (That was paraphrased pls don’t hurt me if I got something wrong). He accepts that he needs blood to survive but he is going to incorporate it into his life passively, and focus on the things he actually likes. He accepts that he is a vampire, but he won’t take it as a part of himself.

I think this is even shown well in Sam choice to “chose morality” (as it was put in the trigger warnings of that one video, still hung up on that btw) rather than live forever. He accepts that he is immortal, but he isn’t going to embrace it.

To Sam vampirism isn’t a part of himself, it’s just something that was done to him. Like a giant scar that covers his body, his face, his eyes, even his core. It still isn’t him.

The way that Darlin plays into Sam’s character growth, I think has potential to change this and I think it’s something interesting to explore.

So far Darlin already has played a pretty big part in Sam’s character growth. Before meeting them he was closed off. Isolating himself from pretty much everyone but a few people in his clan. Darlin has brought him out of that. He now has people, he has the pack. While he does love Vincent and Lovely (and possibly Fred and Bright but we will never know what happened with them), it’s important to have people outside of the ones that you are forced to interact with by circumstance. Especially if said circumstances are horribly traumatic for you.

Blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, and all that.

However, I think Darlin inadvertently helping Sam to embrace the vampiric aspects of himself is interesting concept. Especially now that Sam has fed from Darlin, and enjoyed it, and saw how much his mate enjoyed. I think Sam slowly accepting vampirism is absolutely a possibility in the future.

If it ever happens or not I will still adore Sam’s character all the same.

Anyways this was a really long winded way of explaining that I like how Sam subverts the typical tropes with vampires, and I appreciate how it ties into his turning being non-consensual. I like to rant if people haven’t picked up on that already lmao.

Also I miss my girlfriend. Erik bring Sam back home immediately.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted sam #redacted sam collins #sam collins #redacted darlin

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slut4thebroken · 3 months ago

Text

Hysterical

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Capa x reader

Summary | Capa finally gives in to his urges and is pleasantly surprised with the turn of events.

Warnings | NON CON, smut, coma sex??, knife play? but like non con, super fucked up, I need therapy, idk this fic is kind of a flop.

Words | 800+

Notes | Yeah the first and only Robert Capa fic I posted sucked and honestly I don’t think this is much better😭 idk why I can’t write anything good for him skdhsk

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 7: non-con

For some reason, after the first incident, you went completely hysterical. It got so bad that you had to be sedated until they could figure out what to do and how to help you. Which was the perfect opportunity he needed because after last time, he was a little addicted.

He waited until everyone was asleep, then quietly walked over to the medical bay. You were laying in one of the observation rooms, sleeping soundly.

Not wanting to increase his chances of getting caught by staying here for too long, he quickly pulled down your pants and underwear to your ankles, then climbed over you. He pushed his clothes down just enough to free his cock and spit on his hand to rub over the tip before lining up.

You were even tighter than last time, especially in this position with your legs so close together, but he finally managed to force his way in. Your brows furrowed the tiniest bit, giving away your discomfort even while unconscious, and he let out a satisfied grunt at the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around him again. He took a moment to catch his breath and try to hold back his orgasm so he could at least fuck you for a little bit first, then he was pushing in the rest of the way. Once he was buried inside you completely, he slowly dragged his hips back to repeat the process.

Your cunt squeezed him like a vice, practically forcing him out. He was grunting quietly, savoring the feeling of being inside a tight, warm pussy again after going so long without it because he was in space. Honestly, part of him regretted not doing this sooner. He’s always found you attractive and would frequently fantasize about you. If he would’ve known you’d go insane after the first time and gotten yourself put in a medically induced coma— basically giving him free rein to fuck you again as many times as he wants— he would’ve done this years ago.

He couldn’t help but think about the first time it happened— a little over a week ago now. He grabbed a knife from the kitchen and made his way to your room. The knife was just a precaution because he had an idea of how you’d react, but he wasn’t completely certain.

You woke up to him on top of you, sucking on your nipple and groping your other breast. The second you started to raise your voice, he presented the knife. “Be a good girl and stay quiet for me, and I won’t have to use this.” You went completely stiff under him, almost in shock as he reached down to free his cock and pull your shorts and panties to the side. He forced himself in with a low grunt, covering your mouth to muffle your wail.

“Shh… You’re okay. Just take it…” He whispered, voice thick with arousal. You sobbed violently and squeezed your eyes shut as he dragged the blade down your cheek, not yet cutting you, but just showing you that he could if needed.

You made the prettiest little sounds for him as he rutted into you desperately, already nearing his orgasm after so long without any sex. He took his hand away from your mouth to kiss you, making you whimper and try to turn away, but you went still when he pressed the knife to your neck.

“You feel so good, baby… So fucking good.” He groaned into the kiss, ignoring the way you continued crying. Even though he wanted nothing more than to feel your tight pussy milk his cock, he knew he had to pull out if he wanted to fuck you again. So he leaned up and fisted his cock rapidly, shooting ropes of hot come onto your stomach. You cried silently, unable to move or speak and he leaned back down over you to kiss you again.

“You’re not going to tell anyone about this, right?” He asked, pulling back to make eye contact as he dragged the blade down your cheek, reminding you what would happen if you did. You let out a choked sob, but shook your head. “Good girl.”

His orgasm was quickly approaching as he rutted into you frantically, chasing the pleasure. He desperately wanted to come inside you, but he reminded himself again that if he wanted to keep doing this, he had to pull out. So with a growl of frustration, he leaned up and pulled out, fiercely pumping his cock, coming on your stomach again. He took a moment to catch his breath, then stuffed his cock back in his pants and got up. Before leaving, he grabbed some paper towels to clean your stomach and fixed your clothes, then walked out as if nothing had happened.

#robert capa x reader smut #robert capa smut #robert capa x reader #robert capa #sunshine #cillian murphy #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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lesbikaiser · 3 months ago

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lkahgilf heyyyy, was wondering if you could write smth kinda freaky with shidou and a trans guy reader ? its ok if not !! praise kink would be nice :) but also feel free to like go wild with it idk i just need more trans rep in bllk fics

it's boypussy thursday are you boypussying 🫵🏻

im still recovering from my last shidou post so im sorry if this is too short :( also i took so long to post it omg but i hope you like it just as much as ive enjoyed writing ><

first time im giving a pussy pronouns and it's he/him im so happy omg!

IN MY HEAD shidou would be delighted if he ever found out about the term 'boypussy' and would overuse it and be like dead serious about it

fem aligned people and cis guys please dni >< transboys and nbs born with a pussy you're welcome!

it's late. late as in a few hours past midnight late. the tiny rocks on the sidewalk you find yourself kneeling on slightly hurt your covered knees, the jeans of your pants doing little to protect your skin from the harsh ground – however, you can't really mind it when the feeling of shidou's dick stretching your throat fills up your senses.

the street is deserted, not a single soul there besides you and your boyfriend and you're grateful for that, because he's shamelessly moaning the loudest he can, the sounds echoing through the darkness and his skin glowing under the poor lighting the lampposts provide.

there are tears pooling in your eyes as you try to breathe through your nose, spit running down your chin and staining your loose shirt when he starts to move his hips, one of his hands resting on your nape as the other digs on your shoulder blade to keep you right where you're.

"such a dirty boy, ain't ya?" he teases, though you know when coming from him, it's most likely to be a praise. "sucking my dick out here, where anyone could see."

you can't stop a whimper from vibrating through his shaft, your tongue rubbing against his slit to savor the taste of his pre-cum, your eyes trained on his not missing when his lips part slightly and he throws his head back, yet another needy moan gracing your ears. you can see the beads of sweat dripping down his neck and disappearing on his collar, he looks so hot like this it makes your inner thighs slippery with arousal, your heavy jeans gluing to them as well as your underwear to your core.

your hands hold onto his toned thighs as he keeps face-fucking you, barely taking his dick out of your mouth before thrusting back, hitting the back of your throat and forcing you to swallow more and more of him, gagging sounds strangled in your chest as you let him use you as he pleases. you know he's close, the feeling of his pulsating veins rubbing against your tongue and the inside of your cheeks giving it away, his thrusts growing more erratic and his pace getting lazy, his teeth sinking on his lower lip when he feels you sucking harder, eager to have his cum filling your mouth.

"–ah, doing so well f'me, such a pretty fuckin' boy with his mouth full of my cock, gonna cum so hard for you– take it like a good boy, yeah?" he's babbling at this point, a whine getting caught on his chest when he feels you cupping his heavy balls, massaging them softly and urging him to come, and so he does.

the hand on your nape keeps you there when he shoves his pelvis onto your face, pubes touching your nose as long, thick ropes of cum spill from his slit, you can barely taste it as you try to swallow everything, some inevitably leaking from the corner of your lips. when he pulls away, you're a mess, spit and cum running down your chin, cheeks stained by dried tears and swollen lips slightly parted as you pant, coughing a little and wincing at the soreness of your throat, your voice surely raspy.

shidou is panting almost as much as you, thumb coming to wipe the fluids off your chin only to shove it into your mouth, your lips wrapping so prettily around his finger it makes his dick twitches, his free hand grabbing your arm to pull you up. there's a string of saliva connecting his thumb to your shiny, swollen lips when he pulls it out, though not for too long before he's fumbling with the button on your pants to push them down your legs, your hands immediately coming to grab his as you squeal his name; he must've gone insane.

however, your efforts do nothing to stop him, he's still shoving one finger inside your boxers and running it along your soaked folds, whistling when he feels you drooling onto his palm.

"c'mon, im sure this boypussy of yours can't wait to have my dick fucking him here on the outside."

#shidou ryusei smut #shidou smut #blue lock smut #bllk smut #blue lock x male reader #bllk x male reader #shidou x male reader #ㅤ𔘓 – my works...!

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chheolie · 6 months ago

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where kim mingyu unexpectedly encounters his first love in paris.

"bonne après-midi, mademoiselle y/n," the polished voice of the french receptionist sounded from the other side of the hotel room phone line. "the guests you were waiting for have just arrived. may i let them come up to your room?" he continued, now in english, maintaining the formality.

"of course, please!" you responded gently, with a slight smile on your lips.

dressed in a soft velvet robe with matching slippers, your hair loose awaiting an elegant hairstyle, you were getting ready for the evening. soon, the team that would handle your preparation for the event would arrive at your room.

soon, a protective cover was delicately opened, revealing the stunning dress you would wear in a few hours. seated in your glam chair, you watched through the mirror as the preparations began.

distracted, you were scrolling through your social media feed when your manager asked what you would like to eat before the event. "a caprese sandwich and a kale juice, please," you requested, and soon you were savoring your meal, already with your makeup and hairstyle done.

your hair was tied in an elegant ponytail, and the makeup, perfectly matching the black dress, further accentuated your natural beauty. after one last look in the mirror and a few photo snaps, you were finally ready for the party.

it was the usual: camera flashes lighting up the environment as you stepped out of the car, security guiding you through the crowd of fans and paparazzi. the red carpet was covered with a sea of journalists, all trying to catch your attention with questions and interview requests. the sound of cameras clicking incessantly and the animated voices mixed into an almost hypnotic frenzy.

upon entering the event venue, an efficient and well-dressed assistant immediately approached, offering a glass of champagne and informing you about the night's schedule. the soft lighting and ambient music created an elegant atmosphere, while other celebrities and influencers strolled through the corridors, exchanging greetings and calculated smiles.

the runway shows were the highlight of the evening, of course. seated in the front row, alongside other influential figures in the fashion world, you watched as the models walked the runway in stunning outfits. each collection seemed to outdo the previous in creativity and luxury. clapping at the right moments, making eye contact with the designers, and being seen appreciating the pieces were part of the game.

after the shows, it was time to socialize at an exclusive and secret after-party. the loud music, vibrant lights, and the environment filled with international celebrities provided the perfect setting for animated conversations and selfies that might never be posted.

but then, you needed to go to the venue's restroom. distracted, you followed the signs, focused on finding your destination. turning into a narrow corridor, you felt a strong bump. "fu..." you almost cursed loud as the glass was thrown to the ground. you felt the pain from the impact; the man was big and strong.

"i'm so.. y/n?" he said, surprised.

"oh my god, mingyu! you here?" you asked, equally surprised.

"did i hurt you? i'm sorry," he said, struggling with himself not to touch you.

"it's okay," you smiled awkwardly. "sorry again," he said. and you nodded, smiling as you left for the bathroom.

after that encounter, all you could see was mingyu at that party. how did you not see him before?

mingyu was also looking for you with his eyes, his mind transported to that time in the green room, when you still dreamed of debuting as a singer in a big girl group. he caught himself smiling, remembering those moments.

today, music is not your main job. you found yourself in acting and love what you do more than anything. he couldn't help but notice how incredible and fascinating you've become.

he knew you had become a great actress, but everything changed in your sincere friendship when you decided to reveal a secret to him. "well, mingyu... i don't know the best way to tell you this, but i fell in love with you," he remembered every word perfectly, the sound of your voice so vivid in his memory that it seemed like it was said minutes ago.

he took a deep breath, irritated, remembering what came next: he rejected your feelings.

mingyu closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to push away those memories that brought regret and longing.

when he came back to himself, he noticed you were no longer there. so he decided that the party was over for him too.

you arrived at your hotel room, feeling something you could barely define. seeing mingyu after so many years did you good. he used to be the person you sought when you needed a shoulder to cry on, a friend who celebrated your victories and never let you give up. maybe that's why you fell in love, maybe you confused his affection.

already in sweatpants and a clean face, after a relaxing hot bath, you got into the elevator and went up to the rooftop to get some air.

and then you realized that fate wasn't kidding that day. there was mingyu, alone, pacing back and forth, speaking on the phone in a loud and harsh tone. he seemed upset, and you felt a pang in your heart watching this scene.

he hung up the phone, and you could almost hear the heavy sigh. you approached slowly, pretending to have just arrived.

with a forced smile on your face, you disguised the worry you felt.

unlike you, he didn't bother to hide his bad mood. and you didn't think of anything else but what you would have done years ago: you hugged him tightly.

mingyu was surprised. he didn't know what to do but didn't want to think too much either. he just accepted, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to be enveloped in the embrace of someone he missed so much.

you stroked his back, showing that you were there with and for him. he understood the message, responding to the hug's squeeze. "thank you, y/n," he said.

you two let go, and you smiled at him, this time sincerely. "will everything be okay?" you asked.

"yes," he replied. "it's just a work problem."

you nodded, relieved, and he laughed frustratedly.

"i didn't expect to see you again under these circumstances," he said, and you laughed too.

"it happens..." you replied, not knowing what to say.

"sure," he mocked. and you both laughed.

"how have you been?" you asked.

"good," he said, nodding. "and you?"

"the same," you tucked your hair behind your ear. "seeing you earlier made me revisit some years ago," you confessed.

"me too," he replied, sounding sulky

"do you remember that time in the green room, when we were just dreamers?" you began, and he smiled.

"of course i remember. those days were full of hope and craziness," mingyu replied, the nostalgia visible in his eyes.

"i remember how you always cheered me up, no matter how hard the day was," you said, your voice soft and thoughtful.

"you did the same for me, more times than i can count," he admitted, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

"and to think everything changed since then... we changed," you continued, your voice low.

"yes, but some things haven't changed, y/n. the way i'm feeling now being near you, for example," mingyu confessed, turning to face you.

you took a deep breath, feeling the tension in the air.

"mingyu, about that time... i didn't expect you to feel the same. i just wanted to be honest," you said, remembering the confession that changed everything.

"i know. and i regret rejecting your feelings," he said, the sincerity in his eyes touching you deeply. "i was an idiot, afraid of ruining what we had and ended up pushing you away."

"mingyu..." you began, but he interrupted you.

"let me finish. i don't know if it's still possible, but i'd like a second chance. can we start over?" he paused, "i mean. can we see each other again?"

you responded to him with the same tight hug from minutes ago. though you two couldn't see, both of you were smiling.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #mingyu x reader #mingyu #svt #seventeen #mingyu imagines #mingyu seventeen #mingyu fanfic #mingyu x y/n #mingyu x you #mingyu fluff

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adore-laur · 7 months ago

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Hey! Saw your post abt asking for more dadrry and I love sending these to you so here goes: Harry’s been noticing that his wife is a bit down lately. It’s not because of anything in particular she still loves all of them but she’s just a bit bored at home with him back at work after a short parental leave to take care of the baby and their oldest daughter at school now. So one day he concocts a plan with their oldest kid and takes her with him to the pet store to pick up something to keep his wife company

——

It was Harry's last day of parental leave, and he noticed you were apprehensive about it. He had been at home for twelve weeks, savoring time with his three girls. Now, he was leaving the little bubble of bliss and heading back to work.

He empathized with you, knowing the daily parenting routine would weigh heavily on your shoulders. A part of him didn't want to leave you. It wasn't that he didn't trust you—he simply dreaded missing milestones, cuddles, and the mere pleasure of watching you as a mother.

Harry was out and about running errands with his eldest daughter to enjoy some quality time together before tomorrow arrived. He stocked up on groceries so you wouldn't have to worry about it for a while. He had also already decided to freeze several home-cooked meals to make it easier on you, as well as occasionally bring dinner home from work if he had the opportunity. Next on the list was buying more diapers and baby powder.

You had told him the days would be long and boring without him home as the main entertainer for the girls. Last night, before he had fallen asleep, he brainstormed ways that you could pass the time while he was working. You obviously had the kids to take care of, but there would be moments, like during nap time, when you'd be sitting in the house with nothing to do.

It was easier with the first kid since all you did was nurse and soothe cries. Now, you needed a distraction for both the kids and you.

"Daddy, can we go see the animals?"

Harry was buckling his daughter in her car seat when she asked the question. Her little finger pointed next to the grocery store they were just at, where a pet store resided. He'd never ventured in there before simply because he had to reason to. Now, he had a daughter who loved every animal that roamed the earth and held a curiosity toward any signs of them.

He sighed and unbuckled her. There was no chance he'd have said no, even if he did want to soak up family time in the comfort of his home. But his baby girl got what she wanted, at least when it was a reasonable request.

Steady rainfall dotted his clothes and frizzed his hair as he speed-walked toward the automatic doors with his daughter on his hip. It was Sunday, so there was a slow stream of people driving around and walking past the line of stores and boutiques.

Inside the pet store, an unknown smell greeted him, as well as two green parakeets perched in a large, luxurious birdcage. His daughter gasped with a wondrous smile, listening to them chatter and squawk noisily. Further past the several species of birds placed near the storefront window were glass terrariums with bearded dragons, nonvenomous snakes, and slider turtles. They all moved leisurely and held zero interest in visitors.

In the back, a dark section dimly lit by blue aquarium lights showcased rows upon rows of glass tanks filled with freshwater fish galore. Some of Harry's cherished childhood memories involved lingering near the fish section at pet stores, feeling like he was in a secret underwater world that no human could enter.

"All right, lovebug," Harry said. "I have a question. Should we get Mommy a fish to take care of?"

"Yes!"

"Let's pick one out. I'll even let you get one if you want."

"Really?"

He jostled her playfully. "Of course. We'll put it in your room and help you feed it."

She rested her head on his shoulder and softly said, "Thank you."

His heart melted a little bit as he kissed her temple and set her down. "Anything for my sweet girl."

They walked hand in hand past the tanks and admired the different species of fish floating in the water—goldfish, cichlids, tetras, and ones he couldn't name.

"I want one of those." She pointed to some nearby shelves, where there were little glass containers with betta fish swimming around in them. Many were vividly multicolored. It seemed like a perfect distraction for your mind. Nothing too high-maintenance or in need of too much attention.

"Yeah?" He stalked over to the shelf. "Which one?"

"Purple," she said decisively.

"And which one for Mama?" he asked.

"You pick."

Harry browsed the options. They were all magnificent to look at, but one in particular grabbed his attention. On the bottom shelf, there was a pearl-white betta fish that looked like a wispy angel. Harry crouched and closely inspected the harmless creature. It was beautiful, with an appearance of quiet elegance. Just like you.

"Definitely this one," he said, picturing it in a bigger tank with aquarium pebbles and plants and maybe a rock cave to sleep in.

Harry waved over a store associate and got the checkout process started. Within ten minutes, he was carefully carrying two glass containers with the new pets and pushing a shopping cart with two separate two-gallon tanks, pellets, and a couple of cheap aquarium decorations.

When they arrived home, Harry walked through the front door and saw you sleeping on the couch. The baby must have been napping as well, which was really the only time you or he could catch up on sleep. He smiled to himself, a lovely ache pulsing in his heart. If it was possible, he'd stay home with you forever and have "parent" be his singular job title. Alas, he was a needed man outside the home.

His daughter skipped toward you, clearly excited to reveal the surprise. Harry slowly walked over with the fish and crouched next to your sleeping form. Quietly beautiful.

"Sweetheart," he whispered, softly stroking your cheek with his knuckles.

You sleepily opened your eyes, squinted at his face, and then hummed happily. "You're home." The way you said it sounded relieved, which made him not want to be released from his sabbatical. If only he could work from home.

"We got you something," he said, turning to his daughter so she could do the honors. She took the container with the white betta fish and held it out like it was a sacred gift meant to be handled with the utmost care and respect.

"What is... oh my, what is this?" you asked, your expression morphing into amazement. "Where did you get this?"

"We went to the pet store, and Daddy said that me and you could get pet fish."

You quickly noticed the other betta fish that Harry was holding, and your eyebrows drew together. "What's the special occasion?"

Harry tucked the blanket further up your body and said, "Tomorrow is going to be rough, so I thought you could use a distraction when the days are long without me here."

Your jaw dropped a little as you took the container and closely watched the wispy specimen swim in circles. "That's so thoughtful, Harry."

"Thank your daughter," he replied, kissing your head as he stood up. "She convinced me. Thankfully, she picked an easy animal to take care of." He couldn't imagine if he came home with a slithery snake or an obnoxious bird. This was a peaceful pet that didn't really do much of anything. Something you could simply admire and keep satisfied through simple measures.

He never thought getting you a fish would be a part of his lifelong repayment for two precious children, but it was the most spontaneous moments that mattered most.

——

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #dad!harry #dadrry #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles #adore-laur

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anabdaniels · 9 months ago

Text

Rodeo prizes

Paring: Joel Miller x Female reader x Agent Whiskey

Summary: After meet Jack and Joel, you couldn't resist the idea of get into their bed.

Word counting: 1.6k

Rating: +18

Warnings: Oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, double penetration, p in v sex, anal sex, face sitting, slight voyeurism, aftercare.

A/N: I don't even know what to say about this one. Highly inspired by the masterpiece written by @cerridwen007.

Divider from: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

You never thought a simple tour on the rodeo could get so out of hand.

Yet, there you were, sitting on Jack’s face while he was eating you out and having Joel’s hand wrapped in your hair as you moaned with your mouth full of his cock.

Yes, definitely not a common Saturday night.

You started to flirt with both of them just for fun, but at some point, you were fully conscious that if any of them wanted to take you to their bed, you would say yes without flinching. You just weren’t expecting the proposal to involve both of them at the same time, and you expected even less your positive answer.

Any hesitant thoughts you could have vanished once both of them had their hands all over you, making you realize that their rough exterior had been completely undone while they showered you with kisses and praises, letting you free to put your dubious fantasies into practice. The last one was the reason why you ended up kneeling on the mattress with Joel standing next to the bed with his cock weighing on your tongue while your rationality was extinguished at each move of Jack’s mouth on your soaked cunt.

You were for sure loving every crumb of that, bucking your hips back and forth without even realize as you eagerly sucked and savored every inch of Joel you could, one hand resting on his stomach while the other squeezed the hand Jack had resting on one of your thighs.

As the knot in your lower stomach grew, you knew you would have to throw the towel; the soft scratches on your scalp and tugs on your hair Joel was providing you with along with the hoarse moans coming from him and Jack weren’t doing any favor to your self-control, so you didn’t try to keep it, letting go of the cock on your mouth, you rested your forehead on Joel’s stomach while you sank your nails on Jack’s wrist, rubbing yourself against his face, crying out when his nose nudged your clit, sending your over the edge, making you wet all over his face and start to melt, being promptly grabbed by Joel.

“She’s so responsive, isn’t she?” Joel’s voice came out husky as he petted your head.

“And tastes like heaven.” Jack’s voice came from behind you and you sighed when he planted a kiss on your shoulder, his lips and mustache still moist with your juices. You remained still for a moment as you enjoyed your laziness post-orgasm, biting your bottom lip as you felt both of the men soothingly caressing your skin.

Sitting on his heels, Jack pulled you to his lap, biting your nape and caressing your hips, resulting in you squirming and sighing with Jack’s throbbing erection pressing against your buttcheek. You were about to tilt your head, but Joel grabbed your jaw, making you look at him, causing your whole body to feel like your skin was burning. You squealed and sank your nails into Jack’s thigh as you felt his hard length sliding between your buttocks, slowly stretching your tight hole, making you give up and let your eyelids fall as your eyes rolled back. Jack smirked as you melted on his lap, wrapping one arm around your waist and softly nibbling your shoulder with one hand sinking in your hair. Unquestioningly you were about to turn into a puddle, what didn’t get better as Joel’s warm chest touched your torso, already convincing you that being the middle part of that sandwich was for sure a life-changing experience.

Needing an enormous effort, you opened your eyes to watch Joel effortlessly sinking his cock into your dripping cunt, taking a loud moan out of you; if you ever got told that someday you would be squashed between two southern cowboys, you would have laughed out of pure disbelief, but being living that situation, you started to ask yourself why took you so long to give it a try. You knew that every possible inch of you was filled by both of them and you couldn’t be more satisfied by it.

Jack occupied himself with kissing and nibbling the back of your neck and the curve of your shoulder as his hands moved to the front of your body, groping your breasts and rubbing your hardened sensitive nipples, causing you to whimper and melt under his touch. Savoring every detail of the beautiful view of you being all cockdrunk, Joel kept his gaze glued on every little part of your body, letting his calloused hands squeeze your soft stomach and caress your hips, smirking at the little squeal you let out as both he and Jack began to move more intensively.

“Y’such a precious lil’ thing, sugar.” Jack teased and nibbled your earlobe, making sure to let out a heavy breath against your ear. You were just about to turn your head to look at him while still processing his words, but Joel grabbed your jaw before you could do it, making you look into his eyes.

“For sure an unfairly pretty doll.” Joel praised while caressing under your chin, then leaned to kiss you, ruining the little crumbs of breath you still had, taking a deep sigh of you when his gray beard softly scratched your face. When Joel leaned back and broke the kiss, you inhaled slowly to catch your breath, but Jack didn’t give you the chance, turning your head gently and kissing you hungrily while wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you steady as he increased his pace once again. You could only whimper while your hand rested on his arm, scratching his skin hard.

As he felt your throbbing cunt squeezing his cock, Joel leaned to savor your slightly sweat skin, trailing kisses from your neck to between your breasts, then moving to softly suck one of your nipples. You contorted abruptly with that, making both of the men groan with the sudden motion of your hips. Needing to catch your breath, you had to break the kiss, leaning your head back and resting your nape on Jack’s shoulder as one of your hands sank into Joel’s hair.

The much you knew your body, you were aware that that knot on your lower stomach wasn’t being caused by the soft nudges of Joel’s cock against your cervix or because Jack was balls-deep sinking into your ass, but the result of their unstoppable attempts to send you over the edge, especially when they were way too good at doing it. You tried to say something between your gasps and moans, but all that came out was an incomprehensible mumble.

“What’s the matter, sugar?” Jack questioned while gently kissing your cheek.

“I’m… I’m c-” You were once more interrupted by your whimper as your hips moved involuntarily again.

“We know, darlin’.” He whispered against your temple with his mustache softly scratching your skin.

You got the last straw as Joel softly brushed his teeth against your nipple, letting yourself go, squeezing their cocks hard as your whole body started having small spasms and, even though you had two handsome men to look at, you couldn’t do more than close your eyes hard, feeling every muscle of your body tensing up before you got slightly boneless with that almost overwhelming orgasm.

Your non-stopping moving and whimpering made Jack throw his composure out of the window, sinking his face into the curve of your neck, moaning against your skin as he emptied every drop of his cum inside you, causing you to arch your back and bite your bottom lip. Mesmerized by the delicious scene of both of you falling apart, Joel couldn’t do any better than join the moment, biting the other side of your neck and letting his face rest there as his hands grabbed your hips tight enough to leave a soft bruise, keeping you steady as his thrusts became erratic and he filled your pulsing cunt.

You didn’t bother to try to move, feeling completely boneless and drained. After a while, you realized that somehow you ended up on Joel’s lap with him soothingly caressing your back and kissing the top of your head. No much later you felt Jack gently spreading your legs and carefully cleaning you with a fresh towel that felt like a caress on your hipper sensitive skin.

Once you were clean, you moaned lazily as Joel made you sit straight on his lap and you needed a moment to process that what was placed on your hands was a glass of water. You drank every drop from that glass, just then realizing how exhausted you felt.

With too much delicacy for someone with that constant grumpy face, Joel settled you on your side on the bed and spooned you without second thoughts. After turning off the light, Jack joined the two of you on the bed, also holding you and kissing your head when you tucked your face against his chest.

“Can I ask something?” your voice came out quietly.

“Of course, darlin’.” Jack answered in the same tone and Joel just nodded lazily behind you.

“Do you guys have any plans for tomorrow?” you couldn’t help a smile as both of them chuckled.

“What a greedy lil’ lady.” Jack finished his statement with a kiss on your temple.

“Don’t worry, honey. We wouldn’t dare choose any plan over you.” Joel confirmed and kissed your nape, nuzzling his face against your skin.

Tagging: @missladym1981

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey fic #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels #jack whiskey daniels #Kingsman: the golden circle #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fic #tlou #pedrostories

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ddarker-dreams · 2 years ago

Text

Sore Loser.

Yan Alhaitham x Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, manipulation and unbalanced power dynamics. Word count: 1.1k.

“In case you somehow missed it while storming in here, I want to inform you that my work hours are posted outside my office. You should note that I’m not currently on the clock and am under no obligation to hold an audience with you.”

You knew this would be no simple task. That’s why you’ve spent days — perhaps weeks, if you’re being totally honest — mentally preparing for this confrontation. Countless hours have been spent running mental simulations of this imperative moment. Still, despite your best efforts, you never achieved a breakthrough that’d navigate you through the obstacles lying ahead. Hence why you’ve been delaying this tête-à-tête no matter how much you recognize its needs to be resolved, and soon.

Some might call it procrastination, or delaying the inevitable, but not you. You think of it as self-preservation. What small amount you have left to cling to, anyway. Today, that thin, already fraying self-preservation was pulled taut enough to snap.

Which leads you here. The last place you want to be, paired with the very last person you want to see.

Your gut tells you the feeling is far from mutual. Alhaitham’s expression might be schooled, betraying nothing that floats around in that sinister mind of his, but you’re certain he’s deriving some satisfaction from your disheveled appearance. It could be the nearly imperceptible quirk of his lips or how he went to such lengths to keep his words slow, as if savoring your attention.

“Oh, trust me, I saw your little plaque.”

“It comes as a relief to know you’re literate.”

The creature seated before you cannot be a human being. There’s no way. You’ve dealt with some irritating men throughout your academic tenure — sometimes you wonder if the trait is an unspoken prerequisite to being accepted in higher education — yet none come close to this. The nonplussed air, that monotonous voice that is about as passionate as one reciting instructions from a manual. Oh, how it stokes a seething rage inside you that burns red hot.

You slam your hands on his desk hard enough to jostle the various writing instruments and memorabilia. This little outburst earns a raised eyebrow, yet nothing else. It’s clear that the floor is yours. You’ll need to make every second count.

“I know what you’ve been doing,” you whisper. Still nothing. No guilty body language that’d give himself away, his intense eye contact doesn’t even falter. Yours almost does. “Admittedly, I don’t know the specifics. I just think it’s interesting that ever since we broke things off, I’ve been receiving the cold shoulder from the academic world. An area you hold immense sway over.”

He straightens out a pen that went askew from your previous action. “A quick correction: you used the incorrect pronoun.”

“... Huh?”

“You said ‘ever since we broke things off’ when the correct phrasing would be ‘ever since I broke things off.’ That was entirely your decision. I had no part in it.”

It takes a few seconds for his words to register. What was once a steady yet contained flame ignites into a wildfire, seeking to smolder everything nearby into ashes. You can’t believe you saw something in him once. That you granted him a special residence in your heart, the door left unlocked so he wouldn’t need a key. In the wake of his forceful eviction, you’ve boarded up the windows and chained every potential entryway shut. There’s no fully surveying the damage left behind that you’ve been forced to clean up.

Piece by piece, shard by shard. You knew picking up the jagged glass would hurt — you never could’ve fathomed how much it’d make you bleed.

Unfortunately, he isn’t finished. While you mentally scramble to recollect your thoughts, he swoops in, talons sharp and ready to pierce your flesh.

“Additionally, I don’t see why we’re having this conversation if, as you said yourself, you have no evidence to back your claims. This alleged abuse of power would be better discussed with the matra. I’d be cooperative with any investigation they open. In fact, why don’t we go visit them together—”

“Stop it,” you cut him off, and surprisingly, he listens. “Is this— is this your way of tormenting me? Getting revenge? Does destroying what I’ve spent my entire life building satisfy your ego?”

Alhaitham places his elbows on the desk, rests his chin on steepled fingers, and leans forward. You know that look. You were once intimately familiar with it. This is the posture he adopts when he’s studying. Analyzing every variable presented to him and unearthing what remains hidden. There is no secrecy beneath his scrutinizing gaze. Where some see a stubborn wall, he views a vast ocean of information, waiting to be absorbed by those who know how to find it.

“You haven’t been sleeping well,” he notes. His voice is quieter. Almost tender, if such a word exists in his lexicon. You’re convinced it doesn’t. “Your foundation hides the worst of the eyebags, but I’m familiar with your normal complexion. The slightest change in pigmentation is enough to give you away.”

You hug your arms close to your chest. “Who do you think is to blame for that?”

“You wouldn’t like my answer.”

His hand reaches for your wrist. You tense, your breath catching in your throat, yet you allow him to unfurl your protective stance. His skin is familiar. Warm, calloused from years of dutifully scribbling onto documents. You feel his eyes boring at and through you. Cataloging your every reaction, retrieving past memories to best advance his goals.

He’s never quite as detached as you wished he would be.

There’s an underlying fondness when he speaks your name, gentle as a soft breeze, and almost as indiscernible.

“You must be at your wit’s end if you’re coming to me unprepared like this,” he sighs. The spell is broken, the hypnotist’s wristwatch frozen midair. You go to jerk your hand back, only for him to tighten his grip, not enough to hurt, but enough to effectively communicate his point.

“I’ve always been partial to you, so I suppose a little overtime wouldn’t hurt just this once. I believe I have a solution for the predicament you’ve found yourself in. We could discuss it, if you’d like. How about over dinner? It’ll be my treat.”

You did come here searching for a solution — though this is the last one you’d ever want.

“... How much of this did you plan?”

“I’m unsure what you mean,” his tongue might wax deceit, but his lips offer a glimmer of truth. They curl into a content smile. “I take it that’s a yes. Our usual spot, then?”

It’s occurs to you that you were worried about the wrong thing all along.

There was no point in fortifying your defenses after you ejected him from your heart; he never intended to undergo a forceful re-entry.

No, according to his design, you’d be the one undoing each lock to meet him outside.

#alhaitham x reader #yandere alhaitham x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #my stuff

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capsicle-evans · 1 year ago

Text

The Make Believe Ms Evans

Summary: A PR marriage between Y/N and Chris Evans has skyrocketed their careers but their sex lives has never been this low. Up until now.

Warnings: unprotected sex, swearing

Series Master Post

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

“What are you reading?” Chris raises one eyebrow, moving his attention away from Dodger to me.

“Nothin” I blush, sitting up in a straighter position.

“Sure and that’s why you’ve been whimpering and pressing your legs for the last 5 minutes” He rolls his eyes and before I can stop him, he snatches the book right out of my hands.

“Give it back, you dick” I try to retrieve it from his hands but he is so much stronger than me so he keeps me away with just one arm.

“Let’s see” He scans the pages as a grin spreads over his lips. “Oh we haven’t done that”

“Give me that” I manage to get my book back, giving him a dirty look before settling back down on the couch. “You are such a kid sometimes”

“Why are so so ashamed?” Chris frowns. “It’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked by now”

“I know” I blush as the mental picture of a naked Chris floods my mind. “It’s just… forget about it”

“Y/N” Chris’s frown deepens as he steps closer to me. “You have been eaten out, right?”

Why can the Earth just swallow me whole right now? Why must I go through this? I mean it’s not like it’s my fault, but still.

“Of course” I roll my eyes before placing the book over my face to block Chris stare. “Leave me alone”

I try to focus back on the story, the words of intimacy that lay before be sending warm waves through my body. I clench my thighs as the main character is being stimulated by her male counter part, her pussy being consumed by his mouth.

I jump a little in my spot when I feel a warm hand pushing up the hem of my dress. “What-?” I move my book away to look down where Chris lays in between my legs, his hands tugging at my underwear. I try to speak but the words get stuck at the back of my throat as my core gets exposed right on front of Chris’s face. “Chris” I try to grab his head to push him away but he shakes it off.

“Just relax” He looks up at me, his eyes turned a deep shade of stormy blue. “Read to me”

“What?” I pant as he connects his lips to my inner thigh. He points at my book with a little nod, darting his tongue out to taste the saltiness of my skin. “No, I want to-“

“Read to me or I’ll stop” He gives me a pointed look as he grabs both of my legs to drape them over his shoulders.

“Fine” I grunt before placing the book back in front of my face as Chris moves a couple of inches closer to my throbbing center. “I needed release” I start reading, feeling Chris’s breath fanning my pussy. “I needed Simon to let me reach it, but every time I got close, he’d pull away”

“I should do that with you” Chris grins against my skin before finally swiping his tongue between my folds. The new sensation pushes my legs together, smothering Chris closer to my pussy. “Keep reading, Y/N” Chris grunts against me before pulling my clit as he sucks on it.

“I can’t” I gasp as he spreads me open with his big hands. His tongue darts inside me forcing his chin to rub against me so his beard burns against my thighs. Chris looks up at me before removing his mouth from me.

“Be a fucking good girl and read” Chris bites into my thigh before reaching up to place the book back into my hands. “Or I won’t eat you, bunny”

The pet name makes me blush so I grab the book to hide my face. Smiling up, Chris moves back to his mission. This time he spreads my fold, my puss glistening and blushing under his gaze. A sudden embarrassment takes over me so I focus on the words in front of me. “His mouth is demanding and savoring my core” as I say this, Chris’s tongue tortures my clitoris, his fingers digging into my skin. I drop the book again so my hands can fly to his hair, digging in between his golden locks.

“The bo-“

“Shut up” I push his head against me, muffling his words. I can feel him grinning against me as he intensifies his swipes across my pussy, focusing on my clitoris every once in a while.

“Do you like this?” Chris’s raspy voice breaks through my moans. “God you make the best sounds”

“Chris” I moan his name as he starts fucking me with is tongue and his thumb massages my bud. “I’m so close”

“Yeah, cum over my tongue, bunny” Chris replaces his thumb with his lips and his index fingers starts fucking my pussy, thrusting hard into me. “I want to feel you clench around my finger”

I feel the pressure building, the need for release making me shudder against his touch. I pull on his hair, the waves of pleasure rising as he laps at my lips and when he adds a second finger, I’m a goner.

“Fuck fuck fuck” I pant, shaking under him as I my release rides away under his mouth. I’m trashing under him so Chris grabs my hips, pinning me down.

“God I want to be inside you” Chris holds himself up as he undoes his pants. His dick springs out, wanting to join the action.

“Please, Chris” I grab his white shirt, pulling him down to me. “Fuck me”

“Your wish is my command” He plants a quick kiss before plunging inside of me. “Damn, you feel so good around me. So tight and wet”

“You stretch me so good, Daddy” I moan out and suddenly Chris goes stiff over me. My hands fly to my mouth, realizing the words that just came out of me. “Shit sorry”

Chris eyes are almost black, his chest heaving and the vein on his neck pulsing. “Say it again”

Fuck. I grab his neck so our foreheads are touching. “Make me cum again, Daddy” I whine against his lips as his hand wraps around my neck, gripping just enough.

“You like that?” Chris starts entering me faster and harder, pressing down on my neck to gain stability. “Open up, baby girl”

His thumb tugs at my lips so I make an O shape with my mouth. Pulling me closer by the neck, Chris spits in my mouth. I lick my lips close and guide his face to the crook of my neck. “I’m so close, so close”

Chris bites into my collarbone as his hips roll faster before becoming sloppy and erratic. “I’m cummin, fuck” Chris moans hard as I feel him spilling inside of me.

His orgasm and moans send me over the edge once again. My nails ding into his back as the waves of pleasure consume my every senses.

Sex was always okay with my exes, my vibrator achieving more than they ever did. Until Chris. He fucks me up so good, I always end up wrecked, exhausted and destroyed.

Chris pulls out from inside of me but makes no intention of getting off me, his cum dripping along my thighs. “Move” I laugh as he rests his head over my boobs.

“Give me a minute, woman” He sasses me. “If I move, I might pass out”

“Ugh fine” I roll my eyes, throwing my arm over my face.

I can feel his chest rising and falling over mine, his shallow breaths colliding with my covered nipple. Too focused on his heaving chest, my eyes begin to drift off, my eyelids getting too heavy to keep them open. And the last thing I can remember is a sigh that passes through Chris’s lips.

***

My dry mouth slowly wakes me up, the urge for a glass of water strong in the back of my throat. My eyes flutter open and it takes me a couple of seconds to adjust to the darkness. I rub my eyes to remove the sleep that still holds on, the clock on the wall flashing 2:00 am. Fuck, last time I remember, it was 8:47 pm, right after Chris and I had dinner. Chris.

My head snaps to my chest as a golden mane rests peacefully over my chest. Chris is still deep into his sleep so I try not to wake him up but I need to get out of here. As a small woman, a very tall man laying over me is not really good for my blood flow. I can tell my legs are almost numb from being under him. I try to push him softly on his side so that I can roll away and leave him sleeping here.

“Mm” Chris purrs against my skin, his ocean eyes blinking open slowly.

“Sorry” I whisper, placing my hand over his shoulder blade. “I just need some water”

“Yeah sure” Chris straightens up and I can feel the stickiness he left behind over.

“Okay, and a shower as well” I laugh as I move towards the kitchen, Chris following close behind.

“And is there room for me?” He gives me puppy eyes as I fill my glass up with water.

“Hm that depends” I pretend to think as I bring the glass up to my lips. “Are you going to behave?”

Chris walks to stand behind me, his hands immediately reaching for my hips. He dips his head down to nuzzle my neck. “No, I won’t”

Chris pushes my hips back against his erection as his free hand takes purchase of my nipple. “You know what drives me crazy?”

“What?” I barely speak as his tongue savors the skin behind my ear.

“The way you look right after I’ve fucked you” His other hand hides under the hem of my shorts, softly massaging my entrance over my panties. “Your face right after your orgasm is so fucking hot, your mouth all swollen up and red and so so tempting”

“Chris” I gasp, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter as Chris’ index finger dips inside of me.

“Yes, how you moan my name also makes my pants explote” He adds a second finger in, forcing my head to fall back against his chest. “I also love it when you were sun dresses and you bend down and I get to look at your perfect ass”

With that, Chris slaps my butt cheek, sending shivers straight to my core. “You know how many times I touched myself with that imagine in my mind? How I pictured you riding me reverse cowgirl, your ass slamming against my skin?”

“I need you Chris” I manage to speak, my eyes closed as my hips follow the rhythm of his hand.

“Come here” Chris spins me around to pick me up. “Wrap your legs around me, bunny”

With me in his arms, Chris walks us to the shower in his bathroom. I take my time to ravage his neck with my mouth, earning moans and praises when I dig my teeth softly in his skin

“If you don’t stop, we are not gonna make it to the shower”

Chris puts me down so he can turn the water on and let if warm up to us. “Off with those clothes”

“So impatient” I grin, pulling down my shorts, revealing my damp red panties.

“You are so fucking hot” Chris admires me as I remove the rest of my clothes. “Really why didn’t we start this sooner?”

“Don’t know, but now we have all the time in the world” I pull him down by the neck to meet my lips. I grab the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head. His pants come off soon after and he guides me into the shower, the hot water steaming up the entire room.

“Come here” Chris hugs my waist and pulls me under the shower head, water splashing us.

“Last time I saw you here” I grin, gripping his arm muscles. “You were pleasuring yourself”

“Really?” He grins, blush straining his cheeks. “Do you want to know what I was thinking about?”

“What?” I bite my bottom lip.

“You in that pink night gown” Chris presses his hip against me, his tip tickling my belly. “And how much I wanted to take it off and fuck you so hard”

“Chris” I breath out, my pussy clenching at his words. “Show me”

***

“What the fuck?” A loud shrink wakes me up, making me jump on my spot. “WHAT THE FUCK?”

I look at the door when Polly and Claire have their mouths wide open and staring back at me.

“Can you two shut up?” I groan, letting by head fall back into the pillow.

“Please” Chris whines behind me and that’s when I realize what is happening.

I fell asleep on Chris’ bed. After sex. He is naked. I’m naked. Claire and Polly are here. Fuck.

“Like Hell” Claire replies to me. “Can you guys fucking explain?”

“Do you want me to explain to you how I fucked my wife?” Chris rolls his eyes as he pulls away from me, still holding on to the bed spread.

“I think I’m having a fucking seizure” Polly brings her hand up to her head. “I’m about to have an aneurysm”

“Stop being so dramatic” I roll my eyes, reaching for a towel thats on the floor near my side of the bed. “You guys should be delighted”

“With the two of you, we never know” Claire shakes her head before tossing Chris his pants from the floor. “Get ready. You’ll explain later. Your stylists are here to get you ready for the event”

Agh of course, the fundraiser for the Children’s Hospital.

“Fine, be down in five” I wave them off as I move pass them towards my room.

“No funny business” Polly points at the two of us.

“As if I last 5 minutes” I hear Chris reply and then a loud thud. Probably some shoe aimed towards Chris.

And the rest of the morning is spent with people running around doing my hair and makeup, Chris trying on different suits and Polly and Claire staring at us like we grew a second head.

I can tell they want to grill us with questions but every time they try to approach the subject, someone else walks into the room and they have to turn their attention to something else. It’s not until we are all seated at out assigned table at the event that Polly finally breaks the silence.

“So how long?” She asks us, her voice un almost a whisper to not gain any attention.

“The day after the premiere” Chris replies, bringing his whiskey up to his lips.

“Ok not that long then” Claire nods. “Should we be concern?”

“Because I’m having sex with my wife?” Chris asks and I almost choke on a piece of cheese. “No, I don’t think so”

“You guys hated each other less than two weeks ago” Claire places her hands on the table, leaning forward so that only us can hear. “If this goes wrong I can only imagine how hard it’s gonna be for us”

“Relax” I roll my eyes, leaning back into my chair. “We are adults, we know what we are doing”

“That does nothing to calm me” Polly shakes her head. “But if there’s one thing I know about you two is that you never make our jobs any easier”

“Can we please just drop it?” Chris sounds more irritated now. “We are married, as you have made emphasis on for the last four months, we are getting along. Leave it alone”

“Fine” Polly slumps back down on her chair. “I just don’t even have the energy for this”

“Great” Chris nods before turning to me. “I’m gonna go say hi to some friends, do you want to come?”

“No, it’s okay” I wave him off. “I actually wanna see the garden so I’ll go for a walk”

“I can join you if you want” Chris offers but I know he hasn’t seen his friends in a while.

“No, it’s okay” I smile at him. “I saw Ana de Armas a couple of minutes ago, I’ll ask her to keep me company” Ana and I became really good friends on set whenever I had to pay a visit to my beloved husband.

“Kay” Chris stands before placing a kiss on my cheek. “See ya in a bit”

I follow him until he disappears from my view and my eyes fall back to the two ladies in front of me. “Stop fucking staring”

“It’s just so fucking weird honestly” Polly shakes her head before bringing her glass of wine up to her lips. “I’m gonna need more of this honestly”

“Fine whatever, I’m gonna go for a walk” I grab my clutch and walk away from the table.

I look around the beautiful garden to decide what to do. I spot Ana deep in a conversation with someone so I decide better not to step into their conversation. I decide to check out the paintings that are being displayed for the fundraiser. Most of them are floral themed and filled with pastel colors and soft drawings.

“Do you like it?” A deep voice startles me as I’m gazing closely up at a painting. “Sorry didn’t mean to scare you”

“It’s okay” I wave him off before turning my attention back to the painting. “Yeah, it’s gorgeous”

“Good, cuz I painted it” He beams at me proudly. “Jaques, nice to meet you”

“Y/N, like wise” I extend my hand to shake it but he grabs it and brings it up to his lips. I pull it back quickly as I feel my cheeks go warm “You must be proud of your work”

“Very much so” He steps a bit closer to me. “And tell me Y/N, do you paint?”

“No no” I chuckle, grasping my glass of wine with both of my hands. “I always wanted to but never got around to doing something about it”

“What a shame” He gives me a side smile. “I’m pretty sure someone as beautiful as you would only creat art just as beautiful”

I feel myself physically cringing but I try not to be rude so I just smile.

“I could give you some lessons” He steps closer, his hand reaching for my elbow to pull me closer. “We could meet and I could show you everything you need”

Before I can open my mouth or step away from him, I feel a big hand wrap around my waist and pull me away hard until I’m pushed into someone’s chest. I look up to find Chris with his eyes set hard over Jaques. “Chris?” My voice comes out squeezed as he presses me against his side. Chris manages to peel his eyes away from Jaques to look down at me.

“Hi, Bunny” He winks down at me before leaning down to connect our lips in a kiss that anyone would consider inappropriate in public. He finally pulls away to look back to Jaques. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, I was just telling Y/N that I could give her some painting le-”

“Ms. Evans” Chris interrupts Jaques and I feel my cheeks burning but my pussy as well. Fuck who knew possessive Chris was such a turn on.

“What?” Jaques almost stumbles with his words.

“She is Ms. Evans to you” Chris makes emphasis on this by showing up his ring. “And about those painting classes, I don’t think they’ll be necessary. If she wants to we can get her another teacher. Now if you excuse us, my wife and I have somewhere to be”

Chris doesn’t even let Jaques form a reply before he is turning us away. “There was no need to be rude” I try to glare at Chris but his eyes look so stormed up that my words come out in breaths.

“There was no need for him to touch you” Chris guides me towards some stairs that lead to the foyer of the mansion where event is being held.

“Where are we going?” I frown when I notice Chris is moving us towards a hallway.

“To teach you some lessons, not painting ones” He pushes me into a room before locking the door behind us. “But a lesson nonetheless”

I moan as he pushes himself against me and his mouth takes over mine. “Chris, someone could hear us”

“Better, then”

***

“Look, our first sex scandal” I grin as I show Chris the pictures someone manage to snap of us going inside the manor and then walking back out with my hair a little undone and Chris’ shirt poorly button up.

“Claire and Polly must be thrilled” He grins as I flop down next to him on his bed.

“I think they actually were” I laugh as I show them the text that they sent me. “Everyone is talking about us and all those rumors of divorce seem to be a thing of the past”

“Good” Chris smiles down at me before looking down through my night gown at the hickey he left right over my left boob. “Sorry about that”

“It’s nothing” I wave him off. “I’m just wearing turtle necks until next week I guess”

“Uh, it’s a shame no one is going to see my work of art” He grins, pulling me by the waist so that I’m pressing up against him.

“Oh no mister” I laugh, pressing my hands against his chest to push back away from him but his grip is tighter. “I’m all sore, you need to let me rest”

“Fine” He rolls his eyes but he doesn’t let ho of me.

His blue eyes stare down into mine and suddenly I feel my throat dry up. His eyes flicker between mine and my lips before he leans in to touch my forehead with his.

“Chris” I breath out, my heart going a haywire as he nuzzles my nose with his. “I should probably go to my room”

“Y/N” Chris covers my neck softly with his hand to connect our lips for a brief kiss. “Stay”

“I have my room” I reach for his hand with mine but don’t pull away. “We have separate rooms for a reason”

“I don’t think I remember that reason anymore” He grins against my lips before moving his lips down to my neck. I expect him to tease me there but he just stays there and pulls me hard against his chest. “Stay”

“Okay”

***************************************************

Hi i know it’s been forever but I kinda got stuck. I have proofread it so sorry for the mistakes

@talesofadragon @patzammit @rainyhort10-blog @cutedisneygrl @creae7881 @edtomh @8crazy-freak8 @weirdpeoplecoolpeople @sarahdonald87 @mrsevans90

#chris evans #chris evans x famous!reader #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fluff #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader

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merymoonbeam · 11 months ago

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The parallels

Others made posts about the ship scenes that parallel to the Elriel Bonus scene and at the end I saw that how all of them go well together so I wanted to make this post combining all of them together to show they parallel to Elriel. I'm only adding the parts at least 3+ or more of them parallel each other. There are some parts only 2 of the ships parallel each other so you can go to the linked posts at the end to see how they parallel to elriel. 🫡 Enjoy. (Side not: cc3 spoilers for daynight...I dont count parallels as spoilers so I didnt add read more to this so you have been warned)

The throat scenes

Elriel

The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat. “I..." He watched her swallow. She clutched a small gift in her hands. "I was coming to leave this on your pile of presents. I forgot to give it to you earlier."

Quinlar

She swallowed, and he tracked every movement of her throat. The raindrop that ran over her neck, her pulse pounding delicately beneath it. Before he could react, she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him. Held him tightly. “Tonight sucked,” she said against his soaked chest.

Rowaelin

He watched her throat bob as she swallowed. “It’s your call then, Rowan. Do as you see fit.”

Daynight

“Lidia,” he murmured, in front of her at last, and she closed her eyes, the pulse in her throat fluttering.

Neck scene

Elriel

He knew it was wrong, but there he was, sliding the necklace around her. Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin. Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture. Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp. Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

"Yes," he said, his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

Quinlar

Hunt chuckled, letting himself bury his face against her neck. “So am I.”

He couldn’t tell if his name was a warning or a request or something more. Didn’t care as he grazed his nose against the rain-slick column of her neck. Fuck, she smelled good. He did it again, unable to help himself or get enough of that scent. She tipped her chin up slightly. Just enough to expose more of her neck to him. Hel, yes. Hunt almost groaned the words as he let himself nuzzle into that soft, delicious neck, as greedy as a fucking vampyr to be there, smell her, taste her.

Daynight

She kept her eyes closed, her pulse still flickering. So he took his other hand and tilted her head to the side. Leaned down and brushed his mouth over that fluttering spot. Her breathing hitched, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. She tasted … fuck. He needed more. His teeth grazed the soft skin of her throat, and his tongue skimmed along the space just under her ear. His cock throbbed in answer. Her body loosened, pliant in his hands, and her head tipped a little further to the side. An invitation. He licked up the column of her throat, hand drifting from her waist down to her ass—

Nessian

Until Cassian lowered his face an inch, and grazed the tip of his nose along her neck. Beneath her hand, his chest heaved upward as he inhaled a great, greedy breath of her scent. Too far. She shouldn’t have let herself go this far with him, let him this close. Yet she couldn’t withdraw. Couldn’t do anything but let him brush his nose over her neck again. The urge to press her body into his, to feel his warmth and hardness grinding into her, nearly overrode every rational thought.

Chaolrene

Yrene studied the room, and Chaol found his hand drifting from hers. Sliding up her bare shoulder, to rest along her neck. Her skin was soft as sun-warmed velvet. His thumb stroked up the side of her throat, so near that slender scar, and she cut her eyes to him. There was warning there—warning and yet … He knew the warning was not directed at him. But herself. Yrene breathed, “She …” He couldn’t resist a second stroke of his thumb down the side of her neck. Her throat brushed against his hand as she swallowed again. “She is concerned about the threat of fire.”

Scent

Elriel

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent.

Nessian

Beneath her hand, his chest heaved upward as he inhaled a great, greedy breath of her scent.

Rowaelin

Her sodden hair tumbled down, the scent of her—jasmine and lemon verbena and crackling embers —rising above the smell of almonds to caress his nose, his senses. Rowan stood with his queen in the rain, breathing in her scent, and let her steal his warmth for as long as she needed.

Quinlar

He couldn’t tell if his name was a warning or a request or something more. Didn’t care as he grazed his nose against the rain-slick column of her neck. Fuck, she smelled good.

Daynight

“Lidia,” he murmured, in front of her at last, and she closed her eyes, the pulse in her throat fluttering. Her scent shifted—like flowers unfurling under the morning sun. That scent was pure arousal.

Made no move

Elriel

Elain bit her lower lip, and it took every ounce of Azriel's restraint to keep from putting his own teeth there. "I should go," Elain said, but made no move to leave. "Yes," he said, his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

Quinlar

Chaolrene

She laid her hand atop his own but made no move to remove his touch from her neck.

PERMISSION

Elriel

Azriel’s hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain’s mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. Offer and permission. He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.

Nessian

Cassian’s hands remained at his sides, though. As if waiting for her to give permission.

Daynight

Her body loosened, pliant in his hands, and her head tipped a little further to the side. An invitation. He licked up the column of her throat, hand drifting from her waist down to her ass—

Quinlar

Bryce’s fingers curled against his spine, exploring and gentle. Every single one of his senses narrowed to that touch. Came roaring awake. “We should get out of the rain,” she murmured. “We should,” he replied. And made no move. “Hunt.” He couldn’t tell if his name was a warning or a request or something more. Didn’t care as he grazed his nose against the rain-slick column of her neck. Fuck, she smelled good. He did it again, unable to help himself or get enough of that scent. She tipped her chin up slightly. Just enough to expose more of her neck to him.

Rowaelin

She waited for him to pull back, but he just stared at her—stared into her in that way he always did. Friends, but more. So much more, and she’d known it longer than she wanted to admit. Carefully, she stroked her thumb across his cheekbone, his face slick with the rain.

DIDNT CARE

Elriel

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching. Wrong -- it was so wrong. He didn't care.

Daynight

He didn’t care that they were in the middle of a hallway with his awful cousins running amok. He slid a hand onto her waist, nearly groaning at the steep curve, the way it fit his hand perfectly.

Quinlar

He couldn’t tell if his name was a warning or a request or something more. Didn’t care as he grazed his nose against the rain-slick column of her neck. Fuck, she smelled good.

Nessian

Too far. She shouldn’t have let herself go this far with him, let him this close. Yet she couldn’t withdraw. Couldn’t do anything but let him brush his nose over her neck again. The urge to press her body into his, to feel his warmth and hardness grinding into her, nearly overrode every rational thought.

Males are horny lol

Elriel

He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue -- Azriel's cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think. He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she'd make.

Daynight

He needed more. His teeth grazed the soft skin of her throat, and his tongue skimmed along the space just under her ear. His cock throbbed in answer.

Quinlar

He didn’t let himself think, not as he brushed his lips over the spot he’d nuzzled. She arched slightly against him. Into the hardness that ached behind the reinforced leather of his battle-suit. Swallowing another groan against her neck, Hunt tightened his arms around her warm, soft body, and ran his hands downward, toward that perfect, sweet ass that had tortured him since day fucking one, and—

Chaolrene

Yrene’s eyes dropped to his mouth, and every instinct, every bit of focus, narrowed on that movement. Every part of him came to aching attention. And the sensation of it, as he casually adjusted his jacket over his lap, was better than an ice bath. The smoke—the opiates. It was some sort of aphrodisiac, some lulling of common sense.

The ending

A little bit explanation here...every scene ends with either they are interrupted by someone or their inner conflict causes them to stop. I will explain as we go.

Elriel

He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers. Azriel. Rhys's voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain's sweet mouth. Azriel. Unrelenting command filled his name, and Azriel looked up. Rhysand stood atop the staircase. Glowering down at them. My office. Now. Rhys vanished, and Azriel was left standing before Elain, who still awaited his kiss. His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.” She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, "I’m sorry." “You don't-- Don't apologize,” he managed to say. "Never apologize. It's I who should…” He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression. "Goodnight.”

We have Rhys stopping them.

Nessian

She couldn’t get a breath down as she drowned in that stare. As low, sensitive parts of her tightened and began throbbing, her breasts becoming heavy and aching. His nostrils flared, scenting that, too. She couldn’t. She couldn’t do this to him. To herself. Couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t—

We have Nesta's inner conflict coming between them

Rowaelin

“Rowan,” she breathed, his name a plea and a prayer. She slid her fingers down the side of his tattooed cheek, and— Faster than she could see, he grabbed one wrist and then the other, yanking them away from his face and snarling softly. The world yawned open around her, cold and still.He dropped her hands as if they were on fire, stepping away, those green eyes flat and dull in a way she hadn’t seen for some time now. Her throat closed up even before he said, “Don’t do that. Don’t—touch me like that.” There was a roaring in her ears, a burning in her face, and she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.” Oh, gods. He was over three hundred years old. Immortal. And she—she … “I didn’t mean—” She backed away a step, toward the door on the other side of the roof. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It was nothing.” “Good,” he said, going for the roof door himself. “Fine.” Rowan didn’t say anything else as he stalked downstairs. Alone, she scrubbed at her wet face, at the oily smear of cosmetics. Don’t touch me like that.

We have Rowan's conflict coming between them because of his dead "mate" and all of that plot.

Quinlar

Swallowing another groan against her neck, Hunt tightened his arms around her warm, soft body, and ran his hands downward, toward that perfect, sweet ass that had tortured him since day fucking one, and— The metal door to the roof opened. Hunt already had his gun drawn and aimed toward it as Sabine stepped out and snarled, “Back the fuck up.

Sabine stops them.

Daynight

Her body loosened, pliant in his hands, and her head tipped a little further to the side. An invitation. He licked up the column of her throat, hand drifting from her waist down to her ass— She stiffened. Pulled away. Like she’d caught herself. Remembered who she was. Who he was. He stood there like a fucking moron, panting slightly, cock fully hard and straining against his pants, and she just … stared at him. Wide-eyed. “I …” He had no idea what to say. What to do. His head swam. This female had so much blood on her hands, yet— “Good night,” he rasped, and turned to his own room before he could make a greater fool of himself. She didn’t stop him.

Their inner conflict.

Chaolrene

Yrene was still watching his mouth as if it were a piece of fruit, her uneven breath lifting those lush, high breasts within the confines of her gown. He forced himself to remove his hand from her neck. Forced himself to lean back. Nesryn had to be watching. Had to be wondering what the hell he was doing. He owed her better than this. He owed Yrene better than whatever he had just done, whatever madness—

Chaol's inner conflict.

So at the end all of them are in conflict.

I love parallels 🫡🩷

You can find all the parallels posts here:

Elriel and Nessian parallel by me

Elriel and Daynight parallel by @psychee92

Elriel and Quinlar parallel by @shitwillnotbegiven

Elriel and Chaolrene parallel by @lesolehabitantdelalune

Elriel and Rowaelin parallel by @riddlecrux

#elriel #rowaelin #chaolrene #daynight #ruhnlidia #quinlar #hofas spoilers #cc3 spoilers

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muiitoloko · 6 months ago

Note

heeey!! could u post something fluffy/smutty for harry hart?? ty!!

Title: Gears of Passion

Summary: Harry's desire for a new car sets the stage for an evening of wild, passionate love, reaffirming that the thrill of the drive is best enjoyed with the one you love by your side.

Pairing: Harry Hart × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Author's Notes: Thanks for your order! It's been ages since I last wrote about Harry Hart. Honestly, Harry fics aren't getting the spotlight they deserve these days, which is a bummer. I love Harry and would really love to see more fanfics about him! So let's bring Harry back into the limelight together!