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almostempty · 1 month ago

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Something in your mouth

(joel miller x f!reader)

The third installment of Never made it as a wise man aka creed!joel

WC: 8.4k | Part 1 | Part 2 | Other fics | Rating: 18+

Summary: post hand job and phone sex; it’s the leadup and part 1 of these horny bishes goin’ on a date

Note: heyyyyy it’s me and i’m back on my bs . i know i promised the fuckening, but that was summer me and now it’s winter me.. so instead of hiding and never updating, i remembered i have free will so u get the full week lead-up and the first half of the date.. and then i’ll brb with the fuckfest okay? i promise. (also it’s actually almost done this time so it won’t take months). again, i am still merely a vessel for the spirit of buttrock joel. hopefully this part 3 is girthy enough to sate your appetite a lil bit

Tags: au no outbreak modern joel, divorced dad rock dilf joel x f!reader, picks up right where pt 2 ended, alternating pov, dirty talk, horny yearning, blowjob in the truck, still crackish, but i am still dead serious about it being hot so idc, mistakes are all mine

Thanks to Nickelback for having non stop horny bangerz to quote such as Something in your mouth

major thanks to @hoelaris for this moodboard that made me weep tears of joy bc is it so perfect

thanks to @magneticecstasy for date joel thots to be ft in this pt and the next, @auteurdelabre for telling me to let them have their happy ending so i can get back to the paris boys faster, to @syd-djarin for support, horny thots, song suggestions etc, and @itwasntimethatdidit40 for the nickelback pedro tiktok edit inspo

it really takes a village or whatever they say <3

*if u forgot what this is bc i took so long give Part 1 and Part 2 a read for a refresh <3

*if i missed ur tag or u want off this ride lemme know

okay, it's starting now:

You wake up in Joel’s shirt. It smells more like you than him already, but it still makes you grin devilishly just the same. You go about your day, a few errands and some chores, the whole time with a little more energy than usual.

When you’re back home and settled in to have a lazy afternoon, you get a little restless. Itchy fingers. It’s hard not to pick up your phone and check your messages again and again. You’re drawn to looking at the picture he sent, the pictures you took, and you can’t help wondering…

Did he wake up thinking of you? Hard, aching, and leaking at the memory of your voice.

Did he dream of all the nasty things he said he wanted to do to you? Waking up throbbing and frustrated, grinding his cock into the mattress as if you were beneath him.

Did he wake up and check his phone to confirm you were real? Making it all the way to the shower before surrendering, wishing it was your soft cunt he was fucking instead of his fist.

You know you’re fucked when just thinking about him thinking about you has you so turned on. It’s so tempting to send him something else. Another picture? An audio message? A thinking of you 😘 text?

No. No, no, no.

You can wait him out. Make him work for it a little. He’s a full-grown man. You’ve already given him enough to work with. Plus, you wanna know what he’s gonna come up with next. Right?

The lazy Sunday ends all too soon and before you know it you’re back to work. Dragging ass into the office with the biggest iced coffee you could buy. You deserve a treat to get through your Monday anyway.

A little warning bell chimes in the back of your mind as you drop your things on your desk. Ellie grumbles a good morning that matches your enthusiasm for fluorescent lights at 8 am. A little seed of guilt sprouts within you.

Is it fucked up of you to mess around with Joel? It’s not like it’s something serious. Or, does that make it even worse? There’s no way he would say anything to her about it.

“Heard you saw Joel again,” she says before you’ve even sat down. Great.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, “Still didn’t feel right that he wouldn’t accept anything for helping with my car.” You sink into your chair, hesitating to say more. It’s too early to have a good poker face.

“So you made him a lasagna?” She questions, staring you down.

“Men love my meat sauce,” you say with a shrug.

“Gross,” Ellie grimaces at that, “please, don’t ever say that again.”

You buy her off with the rest of the cookies you had baked. She’s happy to take the entire container from you and happier to enjoy them all immediately. If she’s suspicious she’s either good at hiding it or you really don’t know how to read her.

You carry on with your morning catching up on mindless tasks, swirling your coffee around as the ice starts to melt, and trying to stay focused. Ellie turns on her music and you can’t help thinking of Joel again. It’s like he’s infected your mind and every shitty 2000s post-grunge alt-rock song conjures him up.

You can’t help wondering what exactly he would’ve told Ellie about your surprise visit. Would he have asked about you? Implied anything? You can’t stop yourself from asking.

“What did he say?”

Ellie’s head swivels towards you immediately.

“Who?”

Instantly you know you messed up. You didn’t realize how much time had passed. You shouldn’t still be thinking of him. She prods you about what you said and what you meant. Not accepting a nothing or a never mind. An uncomfortable wave of embarrassment twists in your stomach, heat blooms in your cheeks, and your hands are fidgety.

You shouldn’t have brought it up, you shouldn't be so defensive. Shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t.

Ellie is sharp–cutthroat–reading your every move. You stare at the empty Tupperware on her desk, hoping it will reveal some sort of escape plan. A strategy to deflect. It’s too late. Her eyes narrow just the slightest bit and she follows your gaze. It clicks.

“Oh, you meant Joel?”

You’re so busted. “I..uh,” you don’t know how to finish that thought.

“Why?” She gives you such a blank-faced look that it’s unsettling. You’re an adult. Why does this feel like you got caught sneaking out to see a boy on a school night?

You try to brush it off, but it sounds more defensive, making it worse. You focus on cracking your knuckles and trying to feign a more casual air. For some reason that means you keep talking. Broken sentences pouring out of you and trailing off into a stiff laugh.

Mercifully, Ellie cuts you off. Tells you it was Tommy who mentioned it.

So, he was the one who showed up while you had your legs spread open on Joel’s kitchen counter. The catalyst to your shirt heist and hasty getaway. That makes your face hot for a different reason.

“Oh. Gross.” Ellie groans.

“What?”

“You’ve got that look on your face.”

You snort at that. Only slightly horrified that she’s so adept at picking up the tells on your face. “What look?”

You suck down the last of your iced coffee, stalling, until you’re just sucking in air. You toss it in the tiny trash bin between the two of you and decide to be honest no matter what she says. You’d rather get ahead of it.

“Was it a sex lasagna?” Her mouth is pulled into a look of disgust.

You snort at that before shaking your head, preparing to get it all out.

“Okay, look. It was a thank-you lasagna.” You pause, trying to figure out exactly how much to share. “I didn’t plan the rest of it. It just…happened. And, fuck, it was so hot.”

Her face wrinkles with confusion, then disgust, then laughter. It makes your heart rate speed up.

“I’m sorry,” your words come out like a waterfall. “I don’t want to make things weird. I want us to be friends. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sure it wasn’t serious. I’ll tell you whatever you want. It was my fault. I showed up without letting him know. I made the first move—”

“You fold quick,” Ellie notes, interrupting you. She throws her hands up and you shut your mouth, “Look, you’re both adults, I don’t care what you do. Just, please, don’t tell me any of the sex details.”

“Do you really not care? Or like, you say I don’t care and then treat me like Cheryl in the front office?” you ask.

“No. I genuinely don’t give a shit. Well, I mean, if you break his heart I’ll have to kill you.”

“Naturally,” you agree with a solemn nod.

“But,” she pauses to take a breath, tilting her head before continuing, “it would probably be good for him, don’t think he’s had a real date in a while. But don’t come back to me broken-hearted if he’s a dick—that’s just his face.”

“A date?” you echo.

She groans and rolls her eyes at you, but it’s too late.

Your mind starts to wander. With Ellie’s blessing, you don’t have a reason not to give it a shot.

The harps are already strumming as you float off into your cloud of dissociation. Your favorite daydream flickers into focus as your eyes glaze over and a dazed grin curls on your face. It’s always that same slo-mo Baywatch-style memory. That one where you caught Joel wiping the sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his t-shirt. The original temptation that led you back to him.

Somehow, every time it replays, there’s a new easter egg just for you. The ghost of a knowing smirk or a sparkly-eyed wink when he catches your eye, like a wicked little tease to pull you deeper into the dream world.

Sometimes it’s all too visceral. In the privacy of your mind, you’re free to direct the scene how you’d like. Slowly panning over the peek of soft skin and the trail of hair you can see. You can still feel the warmth on your fingertips from when you slipped your hand beneath the waistband of those navy blue boxers.

Sometimes, you create something new. You’d like to take one of his sun-faded plastic green lawn chairs, drag it to the front porch, and sit yourself down for a show. You wanna watch him mow the grass in the evening heat.

You can see the sweat beads dotted along his neck and the contour of his marble-sculpted arms as he serpentines along your fantasy world front lawn.

You can smell the fresh-cut grass and the specific blend of sweaty man pheromones that Aphrodite concocted just for you.

Your chest swells, lungs expanding, as you breathe slowly and deeply. The illusory scents fill your lungs until you release a deep, yearnful sigh. The imaginary lawn mower almost drowns out the imaginary Fred Durst bellering, It’s just one of those days, from that little stereo on the workbench.

Before you can transition into another scenario—something bounces off your face, and you flinch with a loud yelp.

“That was your warning,” Ellie glares at you. “Next time I’m throwing something sharp.”

“Okay, okay, message received.” You offer a sheepish smile, and she turns around. It seems the Limp Bizkit song was very much not a figment of your imagination. Ellie mutters along to the lyrics behind you, barely audible, as you spin in your chair to get back to work.

It’s not even five minutes later when you swivel in your chair again with another question for Ellie.

There’s nothing like having a crush on a man you barely know to truly make you delusional. You know you’ve got it bad, but it’s unfortunately just so much fun to daydream and let your mind run wild with the very limited info you know about the man.

You don’t want to worry about anything that could go wrong.

Except for, well, everything.

You still fret over texting him first or waiting. Should you send another picture with no context? Should you call? Should you wait another day?

When you notice your chest feeling tight you give yourself a reality check. It’s Monday morning. You’re at work. He’s probably at work. You can figure it out later. A future you problem.

Joel’s text comes through late in the evening.

Joel: You wearing my shirt to bed again?

You’re grinning immediately. At hearing from him first and because he fucking clocked you. You snap a quick photo. Despite being on the spot, it’s thoughtfully crafted. Just enough to show the logo and only your mouth, not your face, no extra skin, no sexy tease. Just a confirmation. You send it off, and his reply buzzes seconds later.

Joel: More

You try to bite back the grin still stuck on your face as your fingers dance across the screen. You want to tell him off for being so blunt, but for some reason, it feels like such a compliment. You’ve definitely got it bad if a thirsty one-word text feels like high praise.

You aren’t going to give in this time. You’ve still got Ellie’s words echoing in your mind. A date. You type back one line.

You: Gonna have to earn it if you want more

Your phone rings shortly after your message is delivered. Joel’s name flashes on the screen and your stomach flips. You thought maybe he’d send another dick pic, but now he’s calling you? It does check out that he wouldn’t be the texting type, to be fair.

“Hey,” you answer, voice soft, a little tentative.

“You’re gonna make me work for it, huh?” His drawl is low, rough around the edges and so stupidly sexy it makes your nipples hard. You can just tell he’s already on edge. Delight floods your veins at the idea of him thinking of you all day.

“You could use a lesson in patience,” your voice is remarkably steady, despite the way your body is lit up. You chew at your lower lip. “Thought I told you that last time we were on the phone,” you chide.

A deep chuckle rumbles through the phone. “Patience,” he repeats. There’s a pause that has you holding your breath. “I don’t think you’re playin’ fair, baby. Knowing you’re in bed with my shirt on, teasin’ me with another picture.” His voice takes on a husky, knowing tone. “Don’t think it’s patience you’re lookin’ for. Bet I know what you really want.”

Your breath catches, loud enough he wouldn’t miss it even with his busted phone. You weren’t prepared to be so affected by just the timbre of his voice. It’s fucked up the way he’s got you breathless for no damn good reason.

You can picture him in his bed. The trademark navy blue sheets. Is he fresh out of the shower? Damp hair and the overpowering scent of whatever 10 in 1 man soap was on sale at the grocery store—

“Okay. Enlighten me then. What do I want?” you finally reply.

“You want to hear it,” he continues, smooth and smug, radiating a cocky smirk right through the phone that makes your skin tingle. “You want to hear how you’ve got me hard, sittin’ here thinkin’ about you,” Joel growls, his voice thick with heat. “Thinkin’ about you wearing just my shirt.”

You bite down on your lip to stay quiet. Maybe he’s not in bed at all. Maybe he’s still out in his shop, locked in the office, a couple beers down before he dared to text you. His hair a mess from running his fingers through it, in those faded jeans that cling to him perfectly.

Either way, it seems almost cruel to stop him with a mouth like that.

“Thinking about what I’d do if you were here,” he carries on. “You look good in my shirt.” His voice drops even lower. “You’d let me push it up though, wouldn’t you? Just enough so I can see how wet you are for me.”

You can’t help pressing your thighs together at that thought. If he hears how turned on you are already, you’re definitely going to end up acting out his fantasy over the phone.

“Fuck.” he mutters, his voice breaking. “You’d let me take my time. Get my hands on those perfect tits again. Soak my fingers with that sweet pussy. Have you so worked up you’d be begging for my cock.”

He says it like it’s a fact, as if he could come over right now and you’d drag him straight to your bed—or no, like you’d be on him before he could shut the front door.

It’s so filthy, so confident. You’re so tempted to keep him going, but you pull yourself together. Biting back the whimper stuck in your throat.

“Well, damn, Joel,” you swallow down the urge to ask for more details. “Guess you’ve got me all figured out then,” you tease with a heavy dash of sarcasm in your tone.

“Not all of you,” he replies, with a suggestive edge. “Not yet.”

You let out a breath you were holding. “Look, you can’t just get your dick out on the phone, tell me how you wanna touch me, and get your way,” you manage, steady and a little sharp. “Not this time.”

“Not this time?” he echoes, half-laughing, clearly amused. “Alright. Sure. What do you want then?”

There’s a flicker of nervousness that tightens in your chest. You don’t want him to think you’re rejecting him, don’t want to risk losing the momentum of whatever this is. “I’m saying…I do want you. But, if you want more you’re going to have to do more. Show me you mean it. Like…a date.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, and your heart skips as you imagine his reaction. He’s quiet, but you can hear his breathing—measured, like he’s weighing something.

“Shit. You’re serious?” he asks, and there’s a softness now, laced with just enough curiosity to make you think he’s intrigued.

“Dead serious,” you say, adding, “But if you’re not interested in me like that—”

“Oh, I’m interested.” The words come quick, a little sharper than you expect, and they make you beam. “Fine. A date,” he says, like he’s letting the word settle on his tongue. “Friday?”

“Friday.” You confirm and stretch your neck. Your muscles are tense. Shoulders tight. All from his filthy words getting you worked up in half a second and the anxiety of your demand. “Come up with something good,” you tease, your voice slipping into something sultrier, “and maybe we’ll both get what we want.”

There’s a low growl on the other end of the line, tinged with frustration and desire. It makes your pulse throb in your clit. You almost wish you had let him talk you through it before suggesting the date. Hear how worked up he’s been over you.

“Jesus,” he grumbles.

Oh, you would’ve turned into a mess and completely forgotten to bring it up. Now you’ve essentially cock blocked yourself until the end of the week. Ugh.

“You’re gonna drive me mad.” He says. But there’s no animosity in it. Instead, there’s something new in his voice that gives you butterflies.

“Yep.”

You’re the one who hangs up first before you can hear anything else that might tempt you to stray from your plan.

……..

It’s late morning when your phone buzzes on your desk the next day, interrupting your excellent cosplay of a ‘productive employee’. You glance at the screen and your heart trips when you see Joel’s name.

You answer, trying to sound casual despite the fluttery feeling in your chest. “Calling me during business hours, Mr. Miller? You’re going to get me in trouble.”

Joel snorts softly. “Think we both know you’re the one that likes causin’ trouble.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

His voice drops lower, quieter. “You need a reminder? Cause I’ve been replaying exactly how much trouble you caused in my kitchen…”

“Don’t.” You nearly hiss into the phone, trying to cut him off before he starts with any graphic retellings. You spin in your chair, grateful when you confirm Ellie has headphones on for once.

“Right.” His voice is back to a slightly less devastatingly erotic tone. “Wouldn’t want to get carried away while you’re at work.

“Well,” he drawls, the grin evident in his voice now. “You said you wanted a date, so I was thinking.”

You hum, leaning into the teasing tone. “If it’s a chain restaurant I’m canceling right now.”

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who’d take you to Applebee’s?”

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?” you quip, laughing at the soft groan he makes in response. “No Applebee’s, no Chili’s, and if you’re thinking about taking me to whatever the fanciest Italian place is in this town, don’t. I’m not going on a first date where you used to take your ex-wife for anniversary dinners.”

There’s a beat of silence, then a grumbled, “It was Valentine’s, actually.”

You cackle, delighted at your guess. He huffs. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re predictable,” you shoot back, grinning as you cross your legs under your desk. “Or maybe it’s just ‘cause nobody has been challenging you.”

“S’that what you are?” he asks, “A challenge?”

You shift in your chair, the grin on your face is going to make your cheeks burn if he keeps this up. You soften the teasing as you admit. “Maybe a little.”

“Mm,” he grunts, clearly not convinced.

“If you’re up for it,” you add. Nerves flutter in your stomach now. Maybe he doesn’t want a challenge at all. It’s not like you’ve been hard to get. The silence stretches just long enough to make you wonder if you’ve pushed too far.

His exasperated sigh crackles through the phone, but it’s laced with something warmer. “Yeah.” But then he exhales, soft and almost self-conscious. “Ain’t a bad thing.”

The words are simple, but they settle somewhere deep, curling warm in your chest. For a moment, the flirty defense falls, and you catch the subtle weight in his voice.

“You’re full of surprises, Joel,” you say finally, your tone gentle.

“Guess you’ll find out,” he murmurs, the words quiet like he’s not sure he’s meant to say them.

Your stomach flutters at the unexpected softness. You knew there was more to him than his bold mouth when his dick is hard or the stoic lone wolf look he wears in his garage. You weren’t expecting him to be…whatever this is now.

The line goes quiet again, his breathing soft on the other end. “Friday at seven,” he says after a moment, his voice steady but quieter than before. “There’s a brewery that Tommy suggested. I’ll pick you up.”

“That sounds nice,” you reply, smiling into the phone.

“Alright,” he mutters. There’s a brief pause, like he’s hesitating, before he says, “See you then.”

He hangs up before you can say anything else, and for a moment, you’re left staring at your phone like an idiot. A grin stuck on your face. Possibly permanently.

It’s not just the idea of the date. It’s the thought of Joel making a plan, asking for recommendations, and thinking of what you might like. You figured it’d be fun to give him a hard time and all, but you didn’t have real expectations.

The week stretches on and you’re not sure if it’s moving too fast or too slow. Having a crush is wicked enough, but having a date planned makes you feel slightly insane. It’s like you’re in a cartoon where the world is suddenly brighter and the birds sing just for you.

You find yourself constantly daydreaming at work. Every Creed song Ellie plays somehow sends you into a fugue state. Snippets of Joel’s voice replay in your head.

There’s something about the way he said, “Ain’t a bad thing,” that keeps sneaking up on you when you least expect it. It wasn’t even what he said—it was how he said it. Quiet, like he wasn’t used to admitting something like that out loud. It makes you smile like a fool every time you think about it.

The worst is the evenings. At home in your room. Nothing to distract you. Alone with his t-shirt. Re-reading your brief texts. Lingering wistfully over the dick pic he sent like it’s a letter from your long-distance lover. You’ve got to get it together.

And Joel? He’s just as distracted, though he’d never admit it. At least not to anyone but you.

At work, his usual rhythm is thrown completely out of whack. He catches himself staring at the same invoice three times before finally filing it away. Tommy catches him with his Breaking Benjamin t-shirt inside out.

You’re in his head and it’s driving him nuts. He tried to minimize it. Deciding it was just the impulsive way you crashed into his world. You spread like a wildfire in his mind. The kindness in you to deliver a homemade meal. The audaciousness you have to go after what you want.

He goes weak for a confident woman and you’re so sharp and quick with him. It’s a rush, but not just because of the sexual chemistry. Not just because you’re a novelty or a break in his routine.

It’s you. It’s the way you’ve got the passion and sharpness with your words, but you’re still soft on the edges. He thinks about the way your voice had dipped when you said, “If you’re up for it,” like you weren’t just teasing but testing something, seeing if he’d push you away.

He’s not used to this. Not the nerves, not the anticipation, and definitely not the way he’s spending too much time wondering what to wear on Friday. Not that he’d ever admit it, but he even dug through the back of his closet, holding up a button-down shirt Ellie had bought him last Christmas like it might bite him. He ends up tossing it back in favor of flannel—it’s still a step up from a faded band t-shirt.

By Thursday you’re nearly useless. You drive Ellie crazy all morning, spacing out and jumping when she asks you a question. To be respectful, you haven’t mentioned the date and she hasn’t asked. Would Joel have told her? Does she know you’re losing your mind over a man who probably has holes in his sweatpants? Are you equally as pathetic?

You’re still stuck on that thought when she kicks your chair, startling you back to reality. “Come on,” she demands. “We’re outta here and you’re coming to the Main Street with me. I’ll buy.”

Turns out you’re a cheap date. The dive bar has strong cocktails and a very limited menu of fried foods to choose from. You sit outside at a picnic table enjoying the warmth of the early summer evening.

Ellie is easy to get along with. Talking animatedly about her friends. Sharing the hot goss about Cheryl and her divorce. Trying to recruit you to join the company rec league kickball team. It’s all a welcome distraction even though you still have Joel on the brain.

You do your best not to bring him up but when she mentions him you know you perk up like a heart-eyed fool. Begrudgingly, but with sincerity, Ellie asks if the date is what’s got you so distracted.

“How did you know?”

“You’re both worse than teenagers.” She rolls her eyes. “Thought bringing you here might take your mind off it.”

You snap to attention at her choice of words. “Both?”

“Don’t.”

She’s a good friend. You did need the distraction. You’re still smiling about that thought as you check yourself out in the mirror in the bathroom at the bar. There’s a poster taped to the paper towel dispenser for the cover band that plays Saturday nights that catches your eye before you slip your phone out of your pocket.

You’d blame it on the drinks but the truth is only had one. You hover over the messages. Wondering if he’s really as nervous as you. Fuck it, you decide before sending what you’ve been wondering.

You: You been thinking about me?

His message comes through so fast it’s more revealing than the words he typed.

Joel: Maybe

Fuck, why does one word have you feeling giddy already?

Joel: Have you?

He asks shortly after. You wonder if he’s second guessing himself. Is Joel nervous?

You: A little

You figure you’ll give him the same treatment.

Joel: Haven’t been able to stop, if I’m honest baby

Heat floods your face as you stare at the screen, and his next message comes before you can respond.

Joel: Friday’s been feeling real far away

That has you shaking your head.

You: Patience is a virtue

He’s quick to respond again.

Joel: Never claimed to be a saintly man

That makes you genuinely laugh.

You: Good

……

By the time Friday night rolls around, you’ve fully spiraled into a mess of anxiety and excitement. You’re not really the type to overthink a date, but there’s something about the whole scenario that feels different. It’s not just because Joel’s hot—hotter than he has any right to be—but he’s trying. For you. It’s disarming in a way you weren’t expecting.

You know that the worst-case scenario for the night isn’t bad. You know how to have a good time wherever you are and you are confident that he’s a horny bastard that will put out even if you actively try to sabotage the date. It’s that flickering sensation in your chest that hopes for more. That’s what makes you nervous.

You’re startled when Joel knocks at your front door. You check your reflection one last time before heading to the door. You figure it’s casual enough for a first date at a brewery.

Despite everything inside of you that screamed to put your tits on display again—you couldn’t resist wearing the Creed shirt. You tied it up in the front so it accentuates your figure and paired it with a faux leather skirt with a matching black lace set underneath.

It’s gotta be enough to play at the alt-rock vibe he’s still living in. You look good. Really good.

But when you open the door he isn’t the only one who’s world gets rocked. Joel stands in front of you like he was plucked from your fantasy. Freshly showered, his damp curls just starting to dry in soft waves. A plaid button-down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off those strong, tan forearms. His dark jeans are markedly not as worn down as the last pair you saw him in, yet the effect on you is just as dastardly.

It’s unfair, really, how good he looks. You’re left blinking as your mouth goes a little dry while you drink him in. Who’s idea was it to have a date? In public? Fuck. He shifts, a sly smile growing on his face as he rests his hip against the door jam.

“Hi,” you mumble, still ogling him.

“You look… real nice,” he says, voice so low and velvety it should be registered as a weapon.

You know you had a smart-ass remark about the shirt on the tip of your tongue, but it’s gone. Gone… along with your morals. All you’ve got left is the intense, primal desire to do something inappropriate with his arms? Yes! Yes! Yes! The horny gremlins like your idea despite having no logistics or master plan.

They seem to have no coherent plan of attack at all, to be honest. Bite! Lick! Suck! All you know is that you need him in your mouth until your jaw is sore.

Joel huffs softly. Amused that you seem speechless. “Didn’t think flannel was all that special baby, you alright?”

“It’s not the flannel,” you mutter under your breath, but you don't let him hear the rest of that thought: Arms! Arms! Arms!

You grab your bag and follow him out to the truck, stealing glances at him as he walks ahead of you. You can’t help it. He’s so…solid. Sturdy. Sure of himself. Even when he’s out of his comfort zone. It’s doing something sinful to you.

The inside of the truck smells faintly like a Black Ice air freshener, a Home Depot on a Sunday morning, and Armor All. The distinctly Joel aesthetic lives up to your imagination. It’s lived in. Comfortable.

There’s the catchall cupholder of change, receipts, and literal nuts and bolts. The caseless CDs in the storage divider strapped to the sun visor—you recognize a couple like Seether and Three Days Grace.

Before you can take in every detail though, you’re distracted by just the sight of him driving. It’s absurd, but why does he look this good just driving? Most people can manage to operate a vehicle, but most people don’t look as fuckable as Joel does, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. Hand! Thigh! Neck! Fingers!

You’re reduced to only being able to name anatomical features when you’re this close to him, apparently. Like an alien learning about a man for the first time. An extraterrestrial explorer propelled by the most curious desire to taste and touch every part of Joel—for research.

You’re so caught up that it takes a while to register the song that’s playing. Of course, it’s more Nickelback.

You're so much cooler

When you never pull it out

Cause you look so much cuter

With something in your mouth

It breaks the spell he has on you and you laugh, really laugh. Joel looks slightly horrified, having no idea what led to your outburst. When you’ve recovered enough, you let him in on it.

“Nice first date song. You really know how to set the mood.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t change the song, and you let yourself glance at him again as he drives. His profile glows in the evening sun, and you can’t help thinking how easy it would be to reach over and drag your hand down his chest, and make him pull over so you could climb into his lap. The thought has you pressing your thighs together, your pulse thrumming in your ears. At this rate you’re not going to make it through the night.

…..

The brewery is trendy. Joel hopes it’s something you like. He tries to focus on the menu, but feels like his brain is short-circuiting. It’s not the overpriced burgers or the craft beers with descriptors that don’t sound like flavors. It’s the way you're leaning forward on your elbows, chin resting in your hand, smile tugging at your lips.

The shirt is unfair. The way you’ve got it tied, hugging your body in ways that make his palms itch. Knowing you were touching yourself in the same shirt to the sound of his voice. He’s trying not to stare, trying to be polite, but it’s damn near impossible with you sitting across from him like that.

“How about this one?” you say, pointing to an option on the menu. “Probably the closest thing to what you’ve got stocked in the shop fridge.” He’d wonder how you knew what he had in the fridge, but his eyes are glued to your finger pointing at the menu and it’s consuming all of his thoughts.

You ramble on about a few other choices but he doesn’t hear the words. He’s still stuck on your hand. He swears he can still feel the ghost of your touch from the kitchen last week. Shit. His jeans are already feeling tighter than they should.

He clears his throat, trying to pull it together. “I’ll trust you.”

You smile wide at that. He’s so fucked. “You know a lot about fancy beer.” Yikes. “You got a favorite on here?” Get it together, he begs himself.

“Nah, I don’t really like beer,” you say casually. You give him a shrug and point out a cider you’re thinking about trying. His stomach twists.

“You don’t like beer,” he repeats. “But, you let me take you to a brewery?” His chest feels tight, and he shifts uncomfortably.

“They have food, too.” you counter.

“Right.” Why does he feel like he’s so out of his element? He’s been second-guessing everything about this date. He feels his gaze drifting as his eyes shift out of focus, his fingers toy with his bottom lip as he gets lost in his head.

He knows he can get you worked up just as bad as him over the phone, knows he can make you sing for him with just his fingers, but this? He doesn’t know what you want from him now. Is the date some kind of test? He knows he’s overthinking all of it.

“Hey.” Your voice brings him back, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I like that you planned something.”

It seems genuine. The way you look at him with bright eyes and a smirk like you’ve got something to tease him about on the tip of your tongue. “Now ask me a boring first date question,” you instruct with a nod like you’re giving him some kind of permission.

“What’s your favorite color?”

You snort laughing at him. If you’re half as nervous as him you don’t show it.

….

It works. Mostly. Your drinks arrive. The conversation flows more easily. He still gets tripped up here and there but doesn’t disappear on you again. He asks about your job, your family, about where you moved from, and you give him enough to keep things light but still playfully dodge some of his questions.

Every time he gets flustered, you catch yourself smiling, a little surprised at how much you’re enjoying this. It’s the way he watches you like he’s trying to figure you out. The way he tries. He seems to relax a little and for a moment, you think he might settle into the evening.

Then he reaches for his water, and it all goes sideways. The dangerously full glass wobbles, tilting just enough to spill halfway across the table. Joel jerks back, cursing dejectedly under his breath as he grabs a napkin to clean it up.

You can’t help it. The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Just loud enough for him to hear. “Trying to get me wet already?”

His eyes snap to yours. You grin, adding, “Don’t worry, been dripping for you since you showed up at my front door.”

He makes a sound between a cough and a choke. Stunned. The faintest blush creeps up his neck, reaching all the way to his ears. For a second, he looks like he might say something, but all he manages to get out is a gruff, “Jesus.”

You lean back in your chair, grinning triumphantly. You didn’t expect him to get so rattled by your comment. Not with how vulgar he’s been on the phone or when he had his hand between your legs. It’s an ego boost to know you’ve got the upper hand at first.

“Relax,” you purr.

Then you catch the way he discreetly tries to adjust himself under the table. Clearly unable to relieve the pressure. Knowing the effect you have on him is more intoxicating than the alcohol. An idea strikes you. You know exactly how to get him to relax.

“Do you have cash?” you ask.

“What? Yeah.” He looks at you confused.

You nod like he proved a point by saying yes. That confuses him further, a deep line forming between his brows.

“‘Course you do. That’s like, Dad 101 ‘carry cash in case of emergency’.

You stand and grab your bag. “We’re not staying,” you say simply.

“What?” He frowns, sitting up straighter.

You flash him a smile. “I’ve got a better idea. Come on. You said you trust me.”

“To choose a beer,” he grumbles, dropping enough cash for a generous tip on the table before letting you lead. He doesn’t argue as you walk back to the truck, just trying to catch up with your words. He opens the passenger door for you, his hand brushing yours briefly as you climb into the truck. It’s a small thing, but the innocence makes your pulse skip all the same.

Once he’s in the driver’s seat, the tension between you shifts. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s charged. You glance at him, taking in the way his hands grip the steering wheel so tightly, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he shifts.

The truck rumbles to life and another one of the horniest Nickelback songs plays—barely loud enough to recognize.

I’m loving what you wanna wear

I wonder what’s up under there

Wonder if I’ll ever have it under my tongue

You bite back another laugh as the vocals float through the cab, perfectly at odds with the vibe of the place you just left. Joel shifts, mouth twitching like he knows how ridiculous it is. “You wanna tell me where we’re headed?” he asks, voice cutting through your thoughts.

You tell him where to drive and settle back in your seat. Again your thoughts drift. Infatuated with his fingers curling and uncurling like he’s trying to distract himself. He hasn’t said much since you’ve left, but you can feel the tension radiating off him. Heavy and thick.

You catch his gaze flicker to you for the third time in as many minutes. His eyes trail over the curve of your thighs where your skirt has ridden up. It’s subtle, but enough to make you feel bold.

You smirk, pulling the visor down to check your reflection in the mirror. Fishing a lip gloss out from your bag, you swipe it over your lips, smoothing the edges with your fingertip. Joel doesn’t say anything, but you don’t miss the deep steadying breath that fills his lungs or the crack of his knuckles.

Satisfied with your lips, you tug lightly at the t-shirt, adjusting the knot, shifting the fabric to lay how you like and slipping a hand beneath it to adjust your tits in your lacy bra. You hear Joel exhale sharply, a low, throaty sound that makes heat curl low in your stomach.

“You okay?” you ask, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Your voice is softer now, more knowing, and when he doesn’t answer right away, you grin. “You seem tense.”

Joel mutters something under his breath. His jaw tightens. Finally, he glances at you, his eyes dark. “You keep doin’ that, and we’re gonna have a problem, baby.”

“Doing what?” you ask, your voice all innocence, though his threat gives you a prickly rush.

Joel huffs a laugh, low and rough. “You know damn well.” His voice dips, a rasp of heat that whips down your spine. “The lips and the shirt, just messin’ with me like you want me to lose my fuckin’ mind.”

Your grin widens as you meet his gaze. “And what if I do?”

“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice strained, his hand flexing against the wheel. “Trying to get me to crash into a ditch or something?”

The tension between you is unbearable now, the air thick and buzzing. Joel’s jaw is clenched tightly. You unabashedly linger on the way his hips press forward slightly like he’s trying to relieve the ache between his legs. It shouldn’t drive you fucking wild with need, but you’re gripped mind, pussy, and soul.

“Pull over,” you say suddenly, your tone steady.

Joel’s head snaps toward you, incredulous.

“Pull over,” you repeat, your voice softer now, more insistent. “Please.”

He hesitates for only a second before caving, steering the truck onto the shoulder. The tires crunch against the gravel as he shifts into park, the engine idling low as he turns to look at you. His eyes are dark, his breathing uneven, and the sight of him—wrecked and barely holding it together—makes you rabid.

“You’re gonna kill me,” his voice is rough and quiet. Infused with lust and awe.

“Maybe,” you murmur, leaning closer. “But you’ll enjoy it.”

Joel groans softly, his hand flying to your thigh, the heat of his palm searing against your skin. “Torturing me,” he mutters, his voice a low growl. “Sitting there lookin’ like that, knowing damn well what you’re doin’ to me.”

“Yeah?” you ask, your breath hitching as his fingers slide higher. “What am I doing to you, Joel?”

He exhales sharply, his grip on your thigh tightening. Why are his hands that big? Like, how are you supposed to know what they feel like and ever leave his grasp?

Your heart is pounding now, the heat in your veins making it hard to think straight. Joel’s voice drops lower, his hand sliding further up your thigh as he leans closer.

“Can’t stop thinkin’ about it,” he mutters, his lips ghosting over your jaw. “The way you’d taste, the way you’d sound, begging me to fuck you harder, deeper��”

“Joel,” you whisper, cutting him off. Your voice is shaky, your hands gripping his arm as you try to ground yourself. “Please.”

He groans again, the sound rough and desperate, and his hand moves higher, his fingers brushing the edge of your underwear. “Yeah, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

It makes you shudder. You feel him smile at your body's obvious responses, as his nose grazes your skin just below your ear.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs into your neck. “Been thinkin’ about you all damn week. Every time I close my eyes, it’s you.”

His words hit like a match to dry kindling, and your breath stutters as his fingers trace the seam of your panties.

“You know how hard it was to sit there at that table?” he mutters, his voice turning darker. “With you looking like this, wearing my clothes, teasin’ me.”

“We didn’t even make it to the actual dinner part,” you giggle as you trail off.

His fingers press more firmly, dragging slowly over the thin fabric, and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips. Joel groans at the sound, his free hand gripping your thigh to hold you steady.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with heat. “You’re already soaked. Bet I could make you come like this, right here, without even tryin’.”

Your hips shift instinctively, grinding against his hand as he works you with deliberate precision. The friction is maddening, just enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to send you over. Every filthy word he says in your ear has you burning up.

“Jesus, you’re gonna sound so fuckin’ sweet for me,” he says, more to himself. “Can’t wait to bury my face between your legs, make you scream my name until your throat’s raw.”

“Joel,” you whisper, your voice shaky, your hand flying to his wrist as his fingers dip lower, brushing just beneath the edge of your panties. “Wait.”

He freezes instantly, his brow furrowing as he looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, your cheeks flushed, your body still trembling under his touch. “Not now,” you assert, your voice soft but steady. “Let me take care of you.”

Joel blinks, his pupils blown wide as your words sink in. His mouth parts to say something but the words disappear. You don’t let him argue.

Sliding your hand down to his belt, you undo it hastily, fingers working open the button of his jeans before he can protest. It’s for him. You want to do this for him. Help him relax so you can enjoy the rest of your date.

But, fuck, it’s also for you. You’ve been riding a high just from a shoddy dick pic and your muscle memory, but you’ve been patient long enough. You’ve got to see it in person and you need it in your mouth, asap. You deserve that much, right?

You slide down the zipper and fuss with the waistband until you get what you wanted. His breath catches as you free his cock. It’s heavy and hard against your palm. Radiating heat and weeping for you.

“Oh, fuck,” he starts, his voice breaking.

You hum softly, pleased, leaning in to kiss him as your hand strokes him slowly, deliberately. Joel groans against your mouth, his hips jerking slightly into your hand.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” you murmur against his lips. “All week.”

“Yeah,” he rasps, voice raw with want. “Can’t stop thinking about you. How you’d feel, how you’d look, how you’d sound.”

“Show me,” you whisper, lowering your head to taste for yourself. You like a hot stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling your tongue around the head.

Joel’s breath stutters, his hand flying to the back of your head as he watches you. “You’re so fucking good, baby. Like a fucking dream.”

You hollow your cheeks, tongue gliding along his length as you take him into the heat of your mouth. You have to use your hands to work the rest of him, still slowly and deliberately. Every sound he makes, every twitch against your tongue, every flex of his core, and tightening of his fingers, it all drives you wild.

It has you moaning with need around him. Your cunt soaked and pulsing, begging for attention between your legs as you focus all on him. It’s just as much for you as it is for him.

His head tips back against the seat, a rumbling grown spilling from his lips as his hips shift beneath you.

“Shit.” he pants, voice cracking. “You’re gonna make come so fuckin’ hard. Bet you’d look so pretty with my come on your tongue.”

The sheer filth of his words spurs you on, your movements quickening as you savor every groan, curse, and sharp inhale from him. “Fuck—just like that.” He encourages you, adding firm pressure to the back of your head as his hips jerk and he loses control.

“You want it?” he asks desperately as you moan in affirmation. You’re voice is still vibrating through him as he starts to come, hot and heavy on your tongue. You don’t stop until his body goes slack beneath you, his chest heaving as you finally pull back.

He looks wrecked, mouth hanging open, sweat on his brow. You give him a devilish smile before opening your mouth to show him. He stares at you, eyes dark and hazy, before cupping your jaw in his palm as you swallow.

“Told you,” he huffs, “so fucking pretty with my come on your tongue.” A bright, satisfied smile spreads on your face at his praise. He pulls you in closer for a kiss. When you pull back a frown pulls at your mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Joel asks hurriedly.

“I didn’t get to see,” you muse. “Will you take a picture next time?”

“Fuck,” he looks at you with awe and pride. “Yeah, baby, of course.”

“Good,” you nod, readjusting and settling back into your seat. “You think you can relax a little now?” you ask, tone teasing.

Joel lets out a breathless laugh. He drags his hand down his face. “You’re unreal,” he mutters, voice still hoarse. The phrase makes you beam with pride. It’s the same remark he made over the phone last week…right before he said ‘got me shooting loads like a fucking teenager’.”

The gratification just from seeing him this wrecked is like a drug. He’s every bit as enticing and addicting as you hoped and feared. You squeeze your thighs together once more and take a deep breath. Committed to the rest of your idea for saving your first date with the divorced DILF of your dreams.

“Back on the road. We’ve got places to be.”

Joel blinks at you, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re serious?”

“Yep,” you smile lazily, tugging gently at his arm. “Drive.”

He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about you being the death of him, but he shifts the truck into gear, his hand lingering on your thigh as he pulls back onto the road.

THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU ENJOYED OR HATED ANY OF IT <3

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #divorced dad rock dilf joel #creed!joel #pedro pascal character fanfic

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wosohours · 3 months ago

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bracelets - leah williamson x reader

With Leah being out on concussion protocol, the club doctors ordered her to take a couple of days off to rest. While she is still able to do light activities here and there, she just had to be careful with things that would cause too much strain on her brain, like being on her phone, watching TV, reading a book, etc.

Although it is unfortunate that she cannot play for a bit, you both are grateful that you two get to spend some time together, especially Leah, since she likes it when you take care of her.

You have been doing your best in terms of trying to keep her mind off of her short recovery in the form of many different mini hobbies such as; diamond painting, legos, and puzzles. At one point you had faith that you could get Leah into baking but of course the second she passes the threshold into the kitchen disaster strikes.

Today you decided to get Leah to do something that will not only keep her busy but will keep her away from her phone for a bit.

Walking into your shared bedroom you greet Leah with a kiss on her forehead and say, “Put your shoes on, we’re going to the crafts store.”

“The crafts store? Is this another one of your little hobby ideas to keep me busy?” she says getting off the bed to walk to her closet.

“Yes, even though this is nothing like your ACL days, I just know how you get when you are stuck in your head for too long,’ you tell her.

“That’s very sweet of you babe. I appreciate you putting up with me these past couple of days,” she replies.

____________________

As you two walk around the crafts store you point out certain things that might pique her interest, but not quite caught her eye.

“You should do these,” you say, grabbing a container full of different colorful seed beads. “You can make cute personalized bracelets for your teammates and maybe even some to give back to fans since they’re always making some for you.”

A big smile grows on Leah’s face as she takes the beads from you to observe them. “This is a great idea baby. Let’s get colorful threads too so we can make friendship bracelets,” she says looking around the aisle for the threads.

Looking around a bit more you find individual color bead strands making you think of a TikTok you saw a couple of days ago. You grab a few different shades of blue and walk over to Leah putting them up against her eye.

“What are you doing?” Leah giggles giving you a confused look.

Smiling at her, you put another shade of blue next to her face and ask, “Do you remember that TikTok video I showed you the other day? Where couples would find beads that matched their partner’s eye color and then they would combine the two colors to make a bracelet?”

“Yes, I do remember that. Wait let me go find one that matches your eyes too,” She says walking over to the bead wall in search of a color that closely represents her favorite set of eyes.

“Yep, these will do. I can’t wait to wear these all the time,” she says looking at you.

After grabbing the rest of the stuff you need for the bracelets such as stretchy string and little initial beads, you make your way to check out and head home.

____________________

Leah immediately sets up all the stuff you two got on the dining room table while you go into the kitchen to get her some water and pain meds since her head is starting to hurt again.

“What do you want to do first?” you ask, sitting across from her.

“Let's make the eye color ones first,” she replies.

While making the bracelets you two sit in silence with music playing softly in the background just enjoying being in each other’s presence.

“This was such a great idea, love. Can you tie mine on my wrist?” she asks, and you do so.

When you are done tying her bracelet you tell her, “You know I used to make these and sell them at school. I wanted this pair of boots so bad, and my mom said that if I can come up with half the price of the boots she’d pay the rest. My classmates came up to me with special color requests and in two weeks I had more than half the price, and I got them the next day.”

“I could tell you’re a pro at this. You’ve always been a hard worker,” Leah says smiling down at her new bracelet.

____________________

A couple hours later you and Leah were still at it making bracelets. Well Leah was making bracelets, you were cooking dinner and would stop every now and then to tie them so they would not fall apart.

“FUCK!” you hear Leah shout from the dining room making you rush over to check on her.

“What happened?” you ask with concern in your tone.

Leah lifts up the clear string with no beads on it and says, “I just tried to tie it and the beads exploded everywhere. I don’t know how you do this, it’s so hard.”

She gets down on her knees and starts to pick up all the stray beads. “I mean they are everywhere, we’re going to be finding random beads for weeks.”

You stifle a laugh as you go to help her pick up the beads, “I’ve had years of practice baby, it’s okay.”

“I can pick them up babe, I don’t want you to burn dinner because of me,” she says.

“Alright, why don’t you try the threads and make friendship bracelets for the girls,” you suggest walking back to the kitchen.

“Yea I’ll need your help with that, I can’t figure that shit out to save my life. I can’t believe how many different patterns there are to make a bracelet,” she says, rolling her eyes, still picking up beads.

“It just depends on the design you want, but I’ll help you,” you call out.

____________________

After dinner you and Leah were back at it, this time making thread bracelets so it would not be as messy.

“I finished Beth's, that should be the last one. Man my hands hurt,” Leah says, cracking her knuckles.

You finish tying Beth’s bracelet and say, “Let’s clean up and head to bed. You can give these to the girls tomorrow.”

As you two walk to your bedroom you hear Leah let out a small yelp making you quickly turn around. “I just stepped on a damn bead,” Leah says, holding up a small red bead.

____________________

The next day before you two head to the game Leah grabs all of the bracelets she made and puts them in her bag.

Currently, you two are sitting in the stands with her mother and brother waiting for the game to start. “Do you think they’ll like their bracelets?” Leah asks you while her eyes are on the field.

“Of course baby, I think they’ll love them,” you tell her, kissing her cheek.

She had already given a few lucky fans some bracelets and their reactions warmed her heart. She liked being able to give them something that she made for once instead of the other way around.

After the final whistle blew she grabbed your hand pulling you towards the field with her where she started handing out the bracelets.

“Aww Leah for me? These are so cute,” Lia said, pulling Leah into a hug.

“Is this how you spend your recovery time? Also matching one your lady,” Beth teased, putting on her bracelet.

“Yeah, it was my girl’s idea. It’s our eye colors see,” Leah beamed as she turned around, watching you speak to Viv who also got a bracelet.

“Of course it was, this is very sweet. Thank you, Leah,” Alessia says.

Why Leah was still chatting with the girls, she felt your arms wrap around her waist making her lean back into you. “I told you they would love them,’ you said, kissing the side of her beanie-covered head.

“I know, it was a great idea on your part,” she says, turning around in your arms, “Thank you for taking care of me, I know I can be a lot sometimes.”

“You’re just fine baby, I love taking care of you,” you tell her tightening your arms around her.

As Leah leans in for a kiss she gets interrupted by someone making a gagging noise. “You two are so cute it makes me physically sick,” Katie yells, causing everyone around to laugh.

Leah rolls her eyes and gives you a kiss, sneakily showing Katie her middle finger.

____________________

note: idk fam.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #womens football #woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso community #leah williamson imagine #woso fanfics

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vibingandsimping · 1 year ago

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Hear me out though, Ascended Astarion with a Tav that runs from him when he isn't paying mind because she thoroughly enjoys the chase. Or tells him no, disobeys him etc. Because she gets off on him being full on Dom

I am so insane about primal/predator and prey play it’s unhealthy.

It peeves him at first. You’re sit so prettily in his lap with his hand resting on your hip. What a perfect pet you were when you behaved. One of your fellow spawn rush hurriedly and grab his attention. They spoke fast, so much so that Astarion lifted his hand from you and pointedly shushed them. His attention seemed to be focused on them as they detailed something or other of urgency… so you slipped away. Astarion tended to the spawn’s matters with an irritation. They interrupted his personal time. He didn’t notice you, at first, until the weight of you gone was apparent. He’d roam the halls and check the usual spots before realizing you left. You ran from him.

He wasn’t sure whether to be livid or thrilled. His nostrils flared at the thought before he took chase. He tracked down your scent and followed you with his heightened senses. How in the world do you think you’ll escape a vampire demi-god, pet? It wasn’t long til he saw you weaving through the streets. He could taste you on his tongue already- his pupils dilating. Once you reached the outskirts of the city he pounced. Hand gripping your shoulder and the other flying to your mouth as he dragged you into a shaded alleyway. “I’m starting to think you do this on purpose.” He whispered in your ear gruffly. His voice alone sent shocks throughout your body. “Do I need to chain you up to make sure my favorite toy doesn’t disobey me?” You’d be a liar if you told him he was wrong. He knew it too. He could practically feel the way your loins filled with heat and tingled from his word and touch.

He’ll teach you some manners, eventually. He’ll train you to be obedient and compliant. He knows firsthand how to break people. For now, he’d enjoy his fill of this behavior. Such a naughty thing. He’ll enjoy stuffing you full and making you beg him for forgiveness. Lips trailing your skin as you cried out pathetically. You won’t think about leaving him as he pumped you full of his seed now would you? Maybe he’d tie your hands and feet to the bed just so he could really enjoy you. Tell him, he spoke against your ear as he choked you, is that something you’d like?

#my asks #anon asks #my writing #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate iii #baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldur’s gate 3 x reader #baldur’s gate 3 x reader smut #bg3 x reader #ascended astarion #ascended astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion smut #astarion x reader smut

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dogbites-puppylove · 9 months ago

Text

Apple seed cyanide

TW: description of yandere mentalities and actions (obsession, possessive tendencies, stalking, etc)

Tags: Yandere! Joker x reader, Yandere! Harley x reader (platonic)

If you want the honest to god truth, Harley knew that the Joker was spewing saccharine filth from the start when he reached out with promises of a sweet little life, one with a darling family of their own. She knew because, after years of watching him pant after the trials of Batman, she saw he had no room other than his obsession left in his heart. But like a moth to firelight, she flutters dutifully back into his arms attracted by promises already broken

Imagine her surprise when shes greeted at the door with a bright smile, almost sane enough to trick her. He ushers her in with a sweet note in the air and a “surprise waiting for her” in the living room. Bound and gagged a couple is crying out on the floor, shaking their hands in a pathetic plea, and attempting to crawl away, and usually, Harley would be all for making a joke or two, but instead, all she can see is you. Your little presence floods all of her senses, sitting perfectly pacified on the floor. Behind her, she's aware of her partner's sick laughter, but she can't shake off the trance she's in.

You couldn't be older than 3, still without proper motor skills and a morbid curiosity stopping any critical preservation instincts that might have had you crying. This becomes more evident when instead of screaming, you giggle as the clown prince of crime crouches down to haul you up into an embrace, even bouncing you up into the air a few times to pry out more laughter. She can barely hear the shrieks of your old parents as the Joker finally deposits you safely into her arms, and as she cradles you close to her chest that aches for you. It's a physical hurt that almost overwhelmed her, the need to crawl inside you and live there, or for you to do the same, and it is in a stranger's house that Harley falls in love again.

“Sweet as honey ain't they?” the Joker coos and cackles at you, waggling a few fingers in front of your face, grinning even wider as you grab at them. “Full of curiosity that one is, a real riot!” but Harley can barely hear him much less acknowledge him past the roaring of blood in her ears. Her heart beating out of her chest she thinks it might just spill open to accommodate the organ trying to crawl closer to her darling. For the second and last time in her life, Harley is chained and leashed to another's will, a fate of coming to their beck and call, your will, her darling wrapped perfectly in her arms.

To the Joker's credit he does love you, or as close to love as he can get. He hushes your cries, indulges you in sweets behind Harley's back, and she's even caught him humming silly little tunes as he dances with you wrapped up in his arms. You bring clarity to him, a surety in his life that he doesn't feel unless pulling Bats along in another joke. You were going to be his perfect legacy, proof that he cannot truly die, you're a part of him in this way. Of course, you’d need a quick little dip into a vat of toxins to truly make a perfect legacy but you needn’t worry, he still loves you. You just need a little preparation first.

Every week he takes you on little daddy-darling outings, he tells Harley your going around to sightsee, and he lets you play a lot of fun games until the sun sets. And he's truthful because his warehouses are far and in between, and every mutilation he leads you so lovingly through is a fun little joke. His little comedian, hell coo as he leads your hand tightly clasping a knife against the throat of one of his own boys who had tried to run. Isn't this fun sweetheart?

He underestimates, however, just how devoted Harley is because while she was fully delusional when they had first gotten into a relationship Harley cannot spare you as collateral damage to her own fantasies. She is painfully grounded as she takes in everything about you 24/7, your expressions, words, actions anything she can she takes to covet away in her mind forever. As much as she is a monster she is your mother and she loves you, you are anything she's ever had and everything she'll ever have. He doesn't realize that she obsessively checks over you, even spotting the smallest flecks of blood, how when she kisses you goodnight she can see the thin sheen of apathy take hold of your gaze.

The final straw comes in the form of a huge argument, she comes home early from work eager to see her little baby, when she finds the Joker cooing into your ear, goading you into doing your best as your hands wrap around a familiar gun. Like the devil on her shoulder, she can't even scream as you pull the trigger, eyes momentarily twitching but no other expression as your former parent's brains paint the windows. And she realizes as you turn around to smile at her sweetly with blood on your teeth and tears that seem so foreign streaming down your face that you need to leave, she has to get you away.

That night she takes you, just 9 years old, and runs. She has no real destination, just a desperate notion to get away, to save you from all that she knows the joker is trying to make you. She can't, she can't let you go through what she knows will force you into the type of person you never wanted to become. Because she can see herself in the mirror and can mourn normal happiness and stability, and she has watched the joker bleed himself dry until he has nothing to himself but an old laugh track repeating over and over again. It's a life of agony and you don't deserve that, not you, never you.

Of course, her body ends up leading her to Ivy’s place, and the woman can only stare in shock as her best friend who had gone radio silent all those years back collapses at her door holding a kid so close she might be trying to meld into one. “Please, please not my baby” Harley begs and any anger that Ivy could have had melts.

For a while it's paradise, the Gotham sirens all corralling once again in their glory, and with their very own new member, you. Selina takes to you quickly, cooing about how her kitten is just the most clever thing in the world as you quickly work through her little trips. (Privately she will worry to Harley about the lack of awareness you have for your own health, the way your eyes glaze over when a plan takes place, and the brutality you exhibit.) Ivy also takes to you quickly, teasing you with little nicknames (how can you be a sapling when you're a human?) and she teaches you how to nurture, how to care for plants and love them as they deserve. (And she will confide to Harley how you seem to take to poisons particularly well, how you are able to craft things more disastrous than she can dream, how your curiosity always leans to the morbid.)

Harley herself takes great energy and care into trying to undo what the Joker has done, it's laughable how Gotham's greatest villains all sit in a circle every week and preach about morals and empathy. But to their credit, it works, and though you may not be able to feel the full existence of motion, though you can't seem to feel it as deeply as others your heart still throbs with what must make you human. You learn consequences and cling with desperation to these little lessons that prove you aren't your mentor. (not father, not anymore)

And yet Harley can still see how your apathy takes hold in the face of curiosity, how you prefer crowbars over teddy bears, and how despite your hardest efforts empathy is always a little too easy to push away in favor of hard-earned apathy. (and she knows, she knows that as long as that bastard is still out there doggedly searching the ground for you, you won't ever truly be safe) so she makes a deal.

The phone rings and Bruce can only raise an eyebrow at the untitled phone number, he doesn't make a habit of giving out his number so uselessly so after the third ring he picks up.

“Hello? This is Bruce Way-”

“Hey Bats.” Alarm shoots through the roof at a voice he hasn't heard in years, and yet still so closely relates to his arch-nemesis.

“Harley? How did you get this-”

“Listen, listen I know it's gonna sound real bad but I- I need you to hear me out. A favor, I need a favor. I'll go back to Arkham, stay there for the rest of my days but, I” she breathes and it's far too shaky for the woman he knows her to be. “My baby” she sobs “You gotta keep my baby safe, he's out there Bats and he won't leave em alone as long as their alive.”

Through his confusion, Bruce manages to calm her down, and wrangles a short story out of her, how she and Joker had played family until she couldn't bear to see you break anymore and how she knew that she alone couldn't keep her darling safe. And maybe it's the boy staring at the corpse of his family in Crime Alley that speaks instead of himself but he finds himself reaching out to help. (he can't let another family split, not when he can help it). As long as Harley doesn't kill, no more lethal tactics, and as long as she reports everything she knows about joker, and works with him against him, she can stay outside of Arkham walls. And as for you?

Your tenth birthday hits and Bruce Wayne steps into your living room with a strangely calculating gaze and a warm smile.

“You must be Y/N? Ah, nice to meet you officially, my name is Bruce Wayne, and ill be your foster family.”

Author's Note: Another reupload. ALSO! I HAVE GOTTEN THE ANON ASKS!! I AM JUST A SLOW WRITER I’LL GET TO EM I PROMISE!!

#yandere dc #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #harley quinn x reader #joker x reader

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wolverinesleftclaw · 5 months ago

Note

Loved your SFW alphabet!!!! Can you also do the nsfw alphabet for Wolverine??????🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

logan howlett nsfw alphabet

pairings : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : smut prompts, deep throating, dacryphilia, choking, breeding kink, mean!logan, dom/sub dynamics, i’m probably missing some, NOT PROOFREAD a/n : hey so this sucks because i’ve had to rewrite it like seven times bc tumblr wouldn’t let me post, i’m sorry if it’s disappointing:(

A ➝ Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

⤷ logan is extremely attentive after sex, his deep rooted fear of over using his strength on you always in the forefront of his mind. with you usually being stuck in the clouds after the most amazing orgasm of your life he’s always sure to care for you.

‘here darlin drink’ logan mumbles bringing a glass of water to your lips.

‘hmm’ you mumble out nestling your head into the hand he’s using the move your head.

B ➝ Body part (their favorite body part of their

partner's)

⤷ logan’s favorite body part is definitely your neck. he loveeeesssss kissing, biting, choking…. he loves your inhaling your scent, your pheromones always setting him off.

C ➝ Cum (where they like to cum)

⤷ preferably inside of you, but he’s willing to whatever you want. he’s obsessed with the idea of leaving his seed in you whether it be your cunt or your mouth.

‘cmon darlin’ swallow it for me’ he groans out reaching his peak his grip tightening on your hair.

D ➝ Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

⤷ he won’t tell anyone but when he’s away on missions he always brings a pair of your underwear with him. especially if he knows it’s going to take longer than usual.

E ➝ Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

⤷ logan’s two hundred years old, he’s got a lot of experience and maybe it hadn’t really clicked in your head how experienced he was until the first time you slept together. him having you come undone in a matter of minutes.

F ➝ Favorite position (this goes without saying)

⤷ he lovessss cowgirl, you being on top is the hottest thing to him. it’s not often people have control over him but with you he’d gladly let you. pulling you down by your neck holding you to his chest while he thrust’s viscously up into you at an inhuman speed.

‘yea baby, you love when i fuck you like this’ he grunts into your ear harshly.

G ➝ Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

⤷ he is not goofy at all. he’s a serious man when it comes to pleasing his woman.

H ➝ Hair (do they like hair pulling?)

⤷ he loves hair pulling. at first he wasn’t sure if you would like it granted his strength but when he was deep inside you with you begging his to pull your hair he snapped. he’s been obsessed with it ever since.

‘please lo..’ you moan out eyes wide

‘please what baby, gotta tell me what you need’ he gruffs out his movements never once stopping at the plea in your tone as you move his hand to the back of your head.

‘want you t—‘ your words getting cut short by the string grip that pulls your head back your neck wide on display.

I ➝ Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

⤷ the first couple times intimacy was a hard thing for logan, it wasn’t slow and sensual it was hard and rough. you never complained he’d never really had a reason or a person to go slow with. slowly the more he opened up to you about his life and his past and saw how willingly you loved him his demeanor changed from needing to be in control to wanting to let go of that control and just be in that moment with you.

J ➝ Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

⤷ logan’s mission had taken longer than expected, to say he was surprised would be an understatement. getting home late at night he wasn’t expecting to walk in on his peaches touching herself while moaning out his name. sure he was mad at first. but watching you struggle to reach the places he knew only he could turned him on more, knowing you weren’t satisfying yourself enough to actually cum.

K ➝ Kink (one or more of their kinks)

⤷ BREEDING!!!! i shouldn’t have to say more but i will, he loves pumping you full of his seed whispering dirty things in your ear as he does it. he also loves to see you cry when your all cock drunk and begging for more.

‘cmon princess, why are you crying i know you can take it’

L ➝ Location (favorite places to do the do)

⤷ he loves taking you on any surface he can have you. the shower, the kitchen counter, the sofa, the floor. but nothing beats the good ol bed especially because of his size it can make it difficult. he’d rather be able to spread you out and take care of each and every part of your body.

M ➝ Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

⤷ the sounds you make when he starts touching you are enough to get him completely feral. the ragged breaths you let out when he’s attacking your neck, biting and kissing.

N ➝ No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

⤷ he’d absolutely never use his claws on you. despite how beautiful you think they are he still hates them. he prefers to keep you as far away from his weapon of destruction as he can. even though sometimes you beg him to just run them down your torso he refuses.

O ➝ Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

⤷ depends on his mood. if he’s in a good mood he’ll eat it like it’s his last meal on gods green earth. if you piss him off he’s fucking your face until you a blabbing mess of tears and spit.

‘you just had to fuckin’ piss me off darlin’ huh?’ he forces out, hands on either side of your head as he thrusts roughly.

P ➝ Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

⤷ oh baby he is both! depends on his mood but more likely he’s touch and gentle, he knows your body and he knows when you need that extra push to get you over the edge.

Q ➝ Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

⤷ HATES THEM!!! he’d rather not fuck you than have a quickie.

R ➝ Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

⤷ he’ll definitely try new things, although he’d never risk your safety no matter how much you want him to.

S ➝ Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?).

⤷ it’s never just one round. he’d fuck you until you pass out if he could. but in all seriousness he’s always ready for another round, he’s no one thrust buck he’ll have you in every position imaginable before he finishes.

T ➝ Toys (do they use toys?)

⤷ literally no lol he refuses and he hates when you do to.

U ➝ Unfair (how much they like to tease

⤷ oh he just loves teasing you, any chance he gets whether it be mocking or talking you through it.

‘cmon peaches, you really thought i’d let you cum after what you did tonight?’

V ➝ Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

⤷ he’s vocal. he’ll tell you exactly how good you make him feel or how good your being. he knows you love when he groans and grunts in your ear.

W ➝ Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

⤷ logan fucking you on the counter after he got home from a mission that didn’t go as planned, he’s angry and needs to blow some steam so he’s rough with his movements, hand over your mouth to stop your moans, whispering in your ear ‘thats it’s baby just let me take it on you huh?’

X ➝ X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

⤷ HUNG!!! dudes hung. for the first while you couldn’t take all of him, but now you reveled in the fact you could. the first time you saw his cock you were definitely intimidated but he was just a cocky little fucker and told you he wasn’t worried and that you could take it.

Y ➝ Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

⤷ logan wants to fuck you anytime and anywhere. he has to stay aware that as a predator your sex drive isn’t nearly as high as his. often having to hold back on his urges especially if he spent all night fucking you into the bed the night before.

Z ➝ Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

⤷ he’s not quick to fall asleep, he’ll wait for you to fall first and then after he just holds you and basks in the feeling of having you beside him.

taglist : my bby @cevansbaby-dove @rogueinmymind @rosewine-5 @caramelatae @catastrophe8866slut @barnes1487d @lexiway121 @ms-e-com @nayyomi @spookyfunhottub @megangovier @aphestina @txtgojou @its-not-about-angels @sammysvers @modrooli @twinky-wink @orisquirrelking @car1er @sseleniaa @nudziaraaa @pinkfloydsimp @scarlett-witchh @shiawaseorii @sephirothhh @sturnizd @chaoticweirdogeek @magpiemayhem @hearts4suri @f4tnu663ts @tvdxavatarxst @vivas-xiv @k1t-k4ts @hettie1spam @sssprivlmaoo @rockytheluver @saturnluvvr @mysticpidge @sl4sh3r @ginamcflurry

holy fuck there’s a lot of you that want to be tagged :> luv u

#logan howlett smut #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine #iron man #deadpool #logan howlett #tony stark #logan howlett x reader #wolverine smut

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aemondwhoresworld · 4 months ago

Text

THE LORD’S REDEMPTION

pairing: benjicot blackwood x reader

summary: in the intricate world of Westeros, alliances are forged and broken through marriages arranged for political gain. lady y/n of house y/l/n finds herself wed to benjicot blackwood, lord of raventree hall, a union intended to strengthen ties between their noble houses. although the marriage was one of duty, y/n begins to believe that genuine affection and love are blossoming between them, especially after the birth of their first daughter. however, her world is shattered when she discovers benjicot in the arms of his childhood friend, a betrayal that cuts deep. but in the end, love and repentance prove stronger, as benjicot, on his knees, begs for her forgiveness, vowing to honor and cherish her for the rest of their days. | word count: 2,6k

warning: english is not my first language. mention of cheating, gavebirth, infidelity, angst to fluff, etc

my first benji fic, currently there is no taglist for benji, thanks my bf to co-write this with me (almost half of the fic)

The halls of Raventree Hall were alive with the sound of celebration. The feast had been lavish, the guests numerous, and the union of House Y/L/N and House Blackwood had been met with cheers and well-wishes from all who attended. But as the night wore on, and the newlywed couple retired to their chambers, the reality of their marriage settled in.

Lady Y/N stood by the window, looking out into the darkened forest that surrounded her new home. The trees of the Blackwood lands were ancient, their branches gnarled and twisted like the old stories of the Children of the Forest. She had heard the tales as a child, but now, in this strange new place, those stories felt more real than ever.

Benjicot Blackwood, her husband, was a man of few words. He had been courteous and respectful, as expected of a lord, but there had been little warmth between them. Their marriage was one of duty, an alliance between two noble houses, and Y/N knew that well. Still, there was a small part of her that longed for something more, a connection that went beyond the cold formality of politics.

As she stood lost in thought, Benjicot approached her. “It’s a beautiful night,” he said, his voice soft, as if he were afraid to break the quiet. “The stars are brighter here than in other parts of the realm.”

Y/N turned to him, surprised by the comment. “They are,” she agreed, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “It reminds me of home.”

Benjicot nodded, his gaze following hers out the window. “I know this is not the life you envisioned,” he began, hesitating slightly. “But I hope, in time, you’ll find happiness here.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. It was a fleeting moment, but it was enough to plant a seed of hope in her heart. “I hope so too, my lord,” she replied, her voice gentle.

That night, as they lay side by side in the large bed, Y/N felt the weight of his presence beside her. The sheets were cold at first, but as they lay in silence, she felt his hand slowly, hesitantly, reach for hers. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. She squeezed his hand in return, a silent acknowledgment that perhaps, just perhaps, they could make this marriage into something more than just an arrangement.

Months passed, and the seasons changed. Y/N and Benjicot fell into a comfortable rhythm, learning to navigate their roles as husband and wife. There were moments of shared laughter, quiet conversations by the fire, and even a few stolen kisses that felt more natural with time. It wasn’t the passionate love story Y/N had once dreamed of, but it was something real, something she could build upon.

When Y/N discovered she was with child, the news was met with joy throughout Raventree Hall. The Blackwood line would continue, and the bond between House Y/L/N and House Blackwood was now cemented by blood. The pregnancy brought a new closeness between Y/N and Benjicot. He was attentive, always ensuring she was comfortable, and took great care in preparing for the arrival of their child.

The day their daughter was born, Y/N’s heart swelled with love as she held the tiny bundle in her arms. The babe had her mother’s eyes and her father’s dark hair, a perfect blend of the two houses. Benjicot stood beside the bed, watching in awe as Y/N cradled their daughter.

“Would you like to hold her?” Y/N asked, looking up at him with a soft smile.

Benjicot hesitated for a moment, as if afraid he might harm the delicate creature in his wife’s arms. But when Y/N gently placed the baby in his hands, his fear melted away. As he gazed down at his daughter, his eyes softened, and Y/N saw something in him she hadn’t seen before—love, pure and unguarded.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve given me the greatest gift, Y/N.”

In that moment, Y/N felt closer to him than ever before. As she watched him hold their daughter, she allowed herself to believe that this marriage, once forged out of duty, had grown into something much deeper. Perhaps they could be happy after all.

But happiness in Westeros was often fleeting.

It was a stormy night when Y/N’s world came crashing down. She had awoken in the middle of the night to find the bed empty beside her. The sheets were cold, and the silence of the room was deafening. Worry gnawed at her as she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and ventured out into the darkened corridors of Raventree Hall.

She searched for Benjicot, her heart pounding with every step. When she finally found him, it was as if the ground had been ripped out from under her.

There, in a secluded alcove near the godswood, stood Benjicot, his arms wrapped around a woman Y/N recognized all too well—Lysa Rivers, his childhood friend. The two of them were locked in a passionate embrace, their lips pressed together in a kiss that spoke of old, unresolved feelings.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t think. She felt as if a knife had been plunged into her chest, the pain sharp and unrelenting. This was the man she had come to love, the father of her child, and he was betraying her in the most unforgivable way.

Before she knew it, she was running, fleeing the scene of her heartbreak. The rain poured down in torrents, drenching her as she ran back to her chambers, but she didn’t care. The physical cold was nothing compared to the icy numbness that had settled in her heart.

When Benjicot finally returned to their chambers, he found Y/N standing by the window, her back to him. The tension in the room was palpable, the silence heavy with unspoken words.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice laced with guilt. “Please, let me explain.”

She turned to face him, her eyes blazing with anger and hurt. “Explain? What is there to explain, Benjicot? I saw you! I saw you with her!” Her voice cracked, the pain evident in every word.

Benjicot looked stricken, as if her words had wounded him. “It was a mistake, a moment of weakness—”

“A mistake?” Y/N’s voice rose in disbelief. “You betrayed me, Benjicot! You betrayed our marriage, our family!” She took a step toward him, her hands trembling. “I thought…I thought you loved me. I thought we had built something real.”

“I do love you,” Benjicot said desperately, reaching for her, but she stepped back, out of his reach. “I’ve loved you since the day you placed our daughter in my arms. But Lysa…she was my past, Y/N. She was someone I cared for long before we were married. When I saw her tonight, old feelings resurfaced, and I… I lost control. But it meant nothing, I swear it.”

Y/N shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “You don’t betray someone you love, Benjicot. You don’t risk everything for a fleeting moment with someone else.”

The hurt in her voice cut him deeply, and he sank to his knees before her, his head bowed in shame. “Please, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I know I’ve wronged you in the worst way possible. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m begging you—don’t leave me. Don’t take our daughter away from me. I will do anything, anything to make this right.”

Y/N looked down at him, her heart torn. The man before her was not the strong, confident lord she had married, but a broken man, consumed by regret. Part of her wanted to push him away, to let him suffer for the pain he had caused her. But another part of her, the part that still loved him despite everything, couldn’t bear to see him like this.

“Benjicot,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can ever truly forgive you for this. The pain you’ve caused me… it’s more than I can bear. But I won’t make any decisions tonight. I need time—to think, to heal. For now, I’ll stay, for our daughter’s sake. But know this—you will have to work harder than you ever have before to earn back my trust.”

Benjicot nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. “I will, Y/N. I swear to you, I will spend every day proving to you that you are the only woman I love, the only one I will ever love.”

The days that followed were filled with an uneasy quiet. Benjicot was true to his word—he devoted himself to Y/N and their daughter, never straying far from her side. He sought to make amends not with grand gestures, but with small, consistent acts of kindness and care. He listened to her, respected her space, and showed her in every way he could that she was his priority.

Y/N watched him carefully, her heart still guarded. The pain of his betrayal lingered, a sharp reminder of the trust that had been shattered. Yet, as the days turned into weeks, she couldn't deny the change in him. Benjicot seemed different, as if the weight of his guilt had transformed him. He was more attentive, more present than he had ever been before, and she could see the earnestness in his every action.

One evening, as autumn began to deepen, Y/N sat in their chambers, her daughter playing on a woven rug near the hearth. The little girl babbled happily, her tiny hands grasping at the colorful wooden toys Benjicot had carved himself. Y/N found herself smiling despite the turmoil in her heart. Her daughter’s laughter was a balm to her soul, a reminder that there was still good in her life, something pure and untainted.

Benjicot entered the room quietly, as he often did these days, as if he were afraid to disturb the fragile peace between them. He knelt beside their daughter, picking up one of the toys and joining her in play. Y/N watched them, her heart softening as she saw the love in his eyes, the way he doted on their child with such tenderness.

After a while, Benjicot looked up at Y/N, his expression tentative. "Would you walk with me in the godswood?" he asked, his voice soft, almost pleading.

Y/N hesitated. The godswood had always been a place of solace for her, a place where she could think and find peace. But it was also the place where she had first seen him with Lysa, the place where her heart had been broken. Still, she nodded. "Alright," she agreed, rising from her seat.

They walked in silence at first, the cool evening air rustling the leaves overhead. The old weirwood tree stood at the heart of the godswood, its red leaves vibrant against the darkening sky. Y/N had always found comfort here, under the watchful eyes of the old gods, but tonight she felt a sense of trepidation.

Benjicot stopped beneath the weirwood, turning to face her. His expression was earnest, his eyes full of remorse. "Y/N," he began, his voice thick with emotion, "I've been doing a lot of thinking these past weeks. I've thought about what I did, how I betrayed you, and I've realized just how much I stand to lose. I was a fool, blinded by the past, and in doing so, I risked everything we have. I can never take back what I did, and I will live with that regret for the rest of my life."

He took a deep breath, stepping closer to her. "But I want you to know that I am committed to earning back your trust. I love you, Y/N. I love our daughter, and I love the life we've built together. I don't expect you to forgive me easily, and I don't expect things to go back to the way they were overnight. But I will keep trying, every day, to prove to you that you are the only woman in my heart, the only woman I will ever want by my side."

Y/N listened to his words, her emotions swirling. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, the desperation in his voice. He was baring his soul to her, laying himself at her mercy, and for the first time since that fateful night, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way forward.

"Benjicot," she said, her voice soft but steady, "what you did hurt me more than I can put into words. It felt like everything we had built together, everything I thought we had, was just… shattered. But I can see how much you regret it, and I can see how hard you're trying to make amends. I won't lie to you—it's going to take time for me to heal, and it's going to take time for me to trust you again. But I don't want to throw away what we have, either. I want to believe that we can rebuild, that we can find a way back to each other."

Benjicot’s eyes filled with tears, and he took her hands in his, holding them as if they were the most precious thing in the world. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "Thank you for giving me a second chance. I promise you, Y/N, I will spend the rest of my life proving that you made the right choice."

Y/N nodded, her heart heavy but hopeful. "Then let's take it one day at a time," she said softly. "Let's start again, and see where this road takes us."

In the days and weeks that followed, Y/N and Benjicot began the slow process of rebuilding their relationship. It wasn’t easy—there were moments of doubt, of lingering pain that resurfaced when Y/N least expected it. But each time, Benjicot was there, patient and understanding, never pushing her but always ready to support her when she needed it.

They spent more time together, taking long walks in the godswood, sharing meals, and talking late into the night. Benjicot opened up to her in ways he never had before, sharing stories from his childhood, his fears, and his hopes for the future. Y/N found herself doing the same, and gradually, the walls she had built around her heart began to crumble.

One evening, as they sat together by the hearth, their daughter asleep in her cradle, Benjicot took Y/N’s hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "I love you," he whispered, his eyes full of the sincerity that had come to define him since that night. "I know I’ve said it before, but I want you to know that it’s true. You and our daughter mean everything to me."

Y/N looked into his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a sense of peace. "I love you too," she replied, her voice soft but full of conviction. "It’s going to take time, but I believe in us. I believe that we can build something even stronger than before."

Benjicot smiled, a smile that reached his eyes and warmed her heart. "Together, we can do anything," he said, and in that moment, Y/N knew it to be true.

Their journey wasn’t over—there were still challenges to face, and scars that would take time to heal. But as they held each other close, the flickering firelight casting a warm glow over them, Y/N felt a sense of hope for the future. They had been through darkness, but now they were stepping into the light, hand in hand, ready to face whatever came their way.

And in the end, that was what mattered most—their love, their commitment to each other, and the promise of a new beginning.

#house of the dragon #benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood imagines #benjicot blackwood imagine #benjicot blackwood x you #benjicot blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood x y/n #benjicot blackwood x oc #benjicot x reader #benjicot blackwood angst #benjicor blackwood fluff #benjicot blackwood blurb #benjicot blackwood fanfiction #davos blackwood #davos blackwood imagine #davos blackwood imagines #davos blackwood x reader #davos blackwood x you #davos blackwood x y/n

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marzipanandminutiae · 2 months ago

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I've gotten some interesting responses to my post wondering if Um Actually 3 AM Is The REAL Time For Supernatural Occurrences was a traditional thing before I first noticed it in the creepypasta boom of the late 00s-2010s, as many of those creepypastas claimed. some of them along "guys. please. reading comprehension" lines, I admit

"Lots of cultures have a Witching Hour!" yes, true, but that's not 3 AM specifically. for a long time it was usually midnight, or an unspecified late night/wee hours of the morning period

"This author says 3 AM feels like depression or vice versa!" that is not about Spooky Things Happening; try again

"early Christian beliefs say-" "well, in traditional Japanese folklore-" sources??? (also from what I've seen while looking into this, the Hour of the Ox in historical Japanese timekeeping was between 1 AM and 3 AM- 3 AM specifically was the end of it, not the beginning. but it was a traditional time for curses)

A mention of 3 AM as a particularly bad time of night re: health, sleep, nightmares, etc. in Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes (1962), which DOES seem reliable and close enough to what I'm talking about

Apparently the 1974 Amityville murders happened at 3 AM, and of course that house had a highly public (probably faked) haunting. So that could have contributed

I haven't yet found anything earlier than that Bradbury reference that SPECIFICALLY mentions 3 AM as a time when scary and/or supernatural things happen, WITH ACTUAL SOURCES

Interestingly, the Bradbury quote doesn't seem to refer back to an existing cultural belief in the idea of Evil 3 AM(TM). rather it's framed as the narrator's personal feelings around that particular time of night:

"Oh God, midnight’s not bad, you wake and go back to sleep, one or two’s not bad, you toss but sleep again. Five or six in the morning, there’s hope, for dawn’s just under the horizon. But three, now, Christ, three A.M.! Doctors say the body’s at low tide then. The soul is out. The blood moves slow. You’re the nearest to dead you’ll ever be save dying. Sleep is a patch of death, but three in the morn, full wide-eyed staring, is living death! You dream with your eyes open. God, if you had strength to rouse up, you’d slaughter your half-dreams ... And wasn’t it true, had he read somewhere, more people in hospitals die at 3 A.M. than at any other time." [I can't find any credible studies of this, for the record]

so it seems like the seeds of the idea were floating around in the cultural consciousness for a long time, between unspecified Witching Hours and the Hour of the Ox curses and this probably erroneous but popular belief that most people who die in hospitals do so at 3 AM. but as for the very strictly-defined notion that Supernatural Things Are Most Likely To Happen At 3 AM...the earliest anecdotal reference I saw to someone having heard that was from the 1980s, and it doesn't seem to have really entered the zeitgeist with force until the late 2000s, earliest

unless someone shows me a source on something earlier, that's what I'm going with

which leaves my takeaway, as a paranormal believer, being: there's nothing supernaturally special about 3 AM, unless it has individual significance to a specific entity or haunting (ie residual apparition of an event that took place at that time). it's something people came up with for interesting fiction, as a fresh take on the longstanding western idea that the Witching Hour is midnight, and not even that long ago

#paranormal #folklore #ghosts #hauntings #urban legends #of course I also don't think there's anything supernaturally significant about ANY particular time of day across the board #my most recent ghost encounter was at approx. 4:50 PM (near the end of my work shift which is why I remember it)#I've had them at midnight and I've had them around 8 PM and I've had them at 9-ish in the morning #and everything in between #my working theory is that more things seem to happen at night because you're less likely to have other distractions at night and thus #more likely to notice anomalies that you otherwise wouldn't

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homelessnerd · 4 months ago

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I have seen a lot of blogs that subscribe to the prosperity gospel/name it and claim it style preaching/inspirational quotes, so I want to address it as I’ve seen a lot of people be hurt by it.

For those of you who don’t know, this way of teaching attempts to use scripture to say that all Christians will be healthy, happy, have a good relationship, blessings, good finances, etc. “All you have to do is pray” and “You can do anything if you have enough faith” are common ideas even if they aren’t explicitly said. Sowing and reaping is another common idea that the pastors of churches who use this ideology use to ask for money from people, especially the poor because the promise is that if they sow a seed of money they will reap even more. It usually just leads to debt.

A lot of these things seem innocent at first, especially the inspirational quote style ones. One I just saw was a Bible verse that says “Whoever sows little reaps little, and whoever sows much reaps much.” And that is a good statement, it’s the Bible, but out of context it isn’t clear at all that the verse is specifically talking about offerings in the church. And later on in the same passage it says these offerings are for the needs of the saints (saints referring to all Christians for any Catholics who may read this) and thus implies that if you need the money you shouldn’t give it. It also says in the verse before it that the offering should be a willing gift and not an exaction. So it is doubly clear that this is not meant to be forced, it is meant to be given out of what you can give.

There is a whole lot more I could write on this issue, it spreads so broad. Rather than explain every single thing they say that’s wrong it would probably be a better use of my energy to say what is right.

God gives us uncomfortable situations, sometimes even dangerous ones. I was homeless for the first four months of my marriage. It was rough. We have debt. My husband has genetic medical issues. It still is rough. But through it all we have trusted God and he has given us something more valuable than all the money or health in the world could get us, and that is a solid community of believers that follow God’s word and urge us to do the same. Even when we didn’t have that, we still had assurance of our salvation and God to lead us through.

Life isn’t easy. People aren��t always healthy, no matter how much faith you have. Sometimes you are struggling with money and can’t seem to get what you need. Sometimes it doesn’t matter how much you give, sometimes all you get back is hatred for being kind. But there is one thing more valuable than anything in this world, and that is God. So don’t cling to what God can give you, trust him and follow him through everything that does happen. God works all things (good and bad, some things he doesn’t throw at us but instead a fallen world does) for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose.

#christian #prosperity

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achilles-rage · 23 days ago

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For Buck: 7) finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc)

i love this prompt!! i'm so excited to write it<33

number 7 from this post: "finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc)"

you're standing at the front of the room, holding your small glass of champagne between your hands as you look out at the crowd.

your father does these parties often; says they "help bring in more business." as one of the most important and rich men in the city, this is extremely important to him.

you're dressed in a long, silk dress, the perfect colour to match both your skin tone and your eyes, and your makeup is perfectly done.

you've never found these parties even remotely interesting, but at least there's good food and lots to drink.

when buck walks up to you with a smirk, you're slightly stunned. people usually come to these parties for your father, not for you.

"nice party." he says, letting his eyes travel down your plush figure, drinking in all your dips and curves on display in your dress.

you smile, nodding slightly. "yeah, i guess it is."

you're not sure how your conversation led to buck dragging you to the balcony that had been deemed off limits to the rest of the guests and pushing your dress up around your waist, but here you are, his hips thrusting into you at a relentless pace.

"wonder what your father would say if he saw you right now? taking my cock so well." he rasps into your ear, pushing your back harder against the wall as he holds one of your legs up to rest on his hip.

the only reason your father had invited buck was because he had been called to your father's work for a small fire, and your father had felt extremely grateful that nothing was damaged too badly.

"i think he'd probably kill you." you whimper, nails digging into the fabric covering his broad back as his fingers come down to lazily circle your clit.

"then we'd better be quick, shouldn't we?" he says in a teasing voice, his hips slamming into your as the head of his cock taps your cervix.

all you can do is nod in response, and you tilt your head back as he lowers his head to nip and suck at your neck.

you both fall over the edge quickly; the added risk of being caught adding to the pleasure. since this balcony is technically off limits to partygoers, you both know the only person that could possibly catch you is your father, and this has buck feeling animalistic as he fucks into your needy pussy.

he makes sure you cum first, rubbing at your clit sloppily until you're clenching around his cock and cumming with a loud whimper.

"where do you want it?" he asks in a low voice, and you look up at him in a daze, trying to focus on his words.

after a moment, you push him away, then drop to your knees and stick your tongue out.

he lets out a muffled moan as he begins to fist his cock, hit bottom lip firmly held between his teeth as he takes in the sight of your waiting for his seed so eagerly.

it doesn't take long until he's cumming on your tongue, watching you with cloudy eyes as you greedily swallow every drop of his release.

when you finally stand up and pull your dress back down, he smiles lazily, lifting a thumb up to wipe a bead of cum from the edge of your mouth and then bringing it to the centre of your lips. you lick his thumb clean with a soft hum, then give him a soft smile before bringing him in for a chaste kiss.

"we should probably go back inside before my father notices i'm gone." you whisper.

he nods, not wanting to let you go.

"yeah, we better go."

#911 abc #evan buckley #evan buckley headcanon #evan buckley x plus size!reader #evan buckley x plus size reader #evan buckley x reader #asks #💌🫶🏻

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hwanchaesong · 8 months ago

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┗🖋️ Tears drown you to the moon / A knight appears for you to swoon / He brings forth joy and fortune / Until gold turns into maroon 📖

🎧: Taylor Swift - Down Bad

wc: 1.3k

genre & warnings: angst, fluff, smut, college setting, heartbreak, ghosting, cursing, working out lmao, unprotected sex, car sex etc etc mdni

a/n: this is a part of The Tortured Poets Department series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

You wait for your partner to arrive at the fancy restaurant you're in, giddy at the mere thought of being with him for the whole day.

It's been a while since you've seen him, both of you busy with your own lives, but now that your schedules have aligned, it's the perfect time to go on a date.

You smiled when the familiar figure entered the establishment, holding a beautiful bouquet of pink tulips.

"Jake!" you waved your hand, catching his attention and when you did, he beamed at you, walking in your direction and the room was suddenly brighter now that he'd graced it with his presence.

"Hello baby, I missed you." he comes to you, bending down a bit to give you a peck on the cheek. "Here, I saw this down the road and I thought of you."

He handed you the bunch of flowers, your heart swelling at the thoughtful action.

Isn't he so sweet? The dream man that anyone would've wanted and needed. More so when he can satisfy you in the middle of the night, in his leather seat, floundering under him.

The dinner was left unfinished, the dessert long forgotten when Jake can't seem to move his eyes away from your cleavage. Dragging you out of the restaurant and flinging you into his car, and he ain't patient enough to take you home before taking you for himself.

"Jake, r-right there!" you moaned, scratching his exposed back when he hit your g-spot perfectly. The sting riled him up even more, his thrusts becoming unbelievably harder and faster.

Being fucked in a car isn't exactly your cup of tea, but you're willing to explore as long as it's with him. Bodies bent almost impossibly at the cramped back seat, windows fogged up from the nasty activity, and the vehicle surely is moving weirdly on the outside.

"So fucking tight." Jake cursed, pounding into you relentlessly, relishing in the way your walls clamp around him whenever he gives you praises.

His length bullies into your wetness and your juices are smeared all over the material of his car seat, but Jake couldn't care less. All that matters is how good you feel and how heavenly he's making you feel.

"J-Jake. I'm close. Please." you begged for nothing in particular, but he knows what you want after doing this for so many times now.

The man moves his hand towards your hair, gentle at first then he suddenly tugs on your tresses, lifting your head forcefully.

"You'll cum when I tell you to, baby." he smirks, seeing your helpless expression and whimpering, and despite the difficulties, you managed to whisper a small 'okay.'

He loves it when you're like this, compliant and willing to take whatever he gives you. For that, you deserve a reward.

Using the hand that is still burning your scalp, he tilts your head in an angle that he liked the best, leaning down and trailing pecks all over your neck before biting onto your clavicle, nibbling over the area and lulling the dull pain with his warm tongue.

He then comes up to your face, kissing you with passion and he takes your open mouth as an advantage to slip his wet appendage in, sucking your own tongue in the process.

it was all too much. He is too much and you don't think you can hold out for much longer.

"I.. Jake. P-please let me cum." your glassy orbs staring at him so innocently, crying out in relief when he released your hair, opting to hold onto your waist.

"Hm." he grunts, going wilder in abusing your cunt, "Cum with me then, princess."

His dick twitched and you nodded your head vigorously, gazing right into his dark, hooded eyes.

He buried himself to the hilt, his warm seed spurting in your walls and that had you going over the edge as well.

Jake furrows his brows, fixing your unkempt hair and grabbing a towel that was inside a compartment, wiping your sweat away.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you." he apologizes, his usual puppy features returning and the blood rushed into his face when you jokingly said that you love it whenever he acts like a total jerk during sex.

He leaves a kiss on the crown of your head with a giggle, and for a minute you could mistake him as a highschool boy with a crush.

"Let's go home, yeah? I'll prepare you a bath and we'll watch your favorite movie. I'll also cook my special ramen for a late night snack."

You really couldn't ask for anything more than this man.

---------------------------------------------------

"No, I'm telling you. He's perfect!" you argued with your friends, laughing at their fake gagging noises.

Then, your phone dinged, a message notification. You momentarily paused your pilates session, heading to your bag and seeing a text from Jake.

"Y/N, this is important. We need to talk. Let's meet up in the usual café."

You raised an eyebrow but obliged nonetheless, taking some time to freshen yourself up and bidding goodbyes to your friends, quickly leaving the gym.

Upon entering the café, you immediately spotted your boyfriend, walking up to him with a smile.

"Hey, what's up?" you asked, sitting in the empty space in front of him.

"Y/N, I got the scholarship that I wanted in Australia." he dropped the news, and you are genuinely happy for him.

"Oh my god!" you reached over to hold his hand, grasping it in pure excitement, "Congratulations! That's one step away from your dream."

"Yeah, but.." he trails, and you understand where he's coming from.

"I'll support you." you say, peering into his worried chocolate orbs, "We'll make this work."

He nods, intertwining your fingers together, "We will."

Lies.

When god poured down the traits of deception, Sim Jaeyun caught it all. And when the devil sprung up some naiveté, you drank it all up.

You run on the treadmill at high speed, heavy footsteps match your labored breathing.

The fucker flew to Australia and it seemed like he forgot that he left someone that is waiting for him.

He posts on social media and he's enjoying himself, alright. Drinking beer, eating steak, playing soccer. He's updating the whole world of what is happening in his life except you... personally that is.

Is this what it feels like to be taken by some aliens, showing you a different world, a different galaxy that you loved so much, only to be dropped off in your old, sullen town.

Is this what it feels like to be bombarded by astronomical love, only to realize that it will vanish into thin air once the distance is a million of light years.

It's not like you haven't tried contacting him. You did. You reminded him of your presence, but you were ignored like dead grass in the park.

It's unbearable. So fucking unfair and you have no choice but to accept reality, despite the fact that breathing is as burdensome as moving on from him.

How can you even forget him? Is that even possible?

He presented you a strikingly gorgeous sanctuary, abandoning you there and you're stuck in a time loop of waiting for him to come back and pick you up. But all that's left are the ghosts of him that haunts you even in your dreams.

"You'll find someone new." is what they all say, but what do they know?

"Fuck!" you yelled, slamming your fist onto the controls of the treadmill and the machine came into a whirring stop.

You dropped onto your knees, hiding your face in your arms that were slinging onto the sides of the gym equipment, wailing like a child throwing a tantrum because a candy wasn't given to her despite her efforts to study for an important test.

"How the fuck will I be able to find someone new?"

Brand new is not an option, because what and who you wanted and needed was the old one.

What's the purpose of building forts if it's not gonna be used with your starry eyed beloved?

Dying is rather the better option than being with someone else, simply because you don't want anyone else if it's not your ramen lover of a golden retriever.

taglist:

@ramenoil @shakalakaboomboo

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angelicbeaut · 1 year ago

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Let yourself experience it now. Plant the seed.

I remember when I first started my journey (I was around 16), I was so consumed with what I was trying to get that I thought I had to keep doing methods to get the feeling I wanted. I would force myself through grueling days of the 369 method over and over again and get nothing. This resulted in me becoming so hallow that I believed I could never experience my dream life. But then I realized something that I hope will help anyone who reads this.

You can experience it now. Give yourself the freedom to experience it now.

I remember when I wanted to be beautiful, when I would wake up to covered mirrors because I did not even want to see myself. One day I decided that I would be that beautiful girl no matter what, even if it started by imagining it.

Imagination is the only reality, btw. Everything is you, you can be anyone you want to be. I would imagine myself walking into rooms of people looking at me, overflowing compliments, dates, looking at myself in the mirror, smiling at my reflection, I would imagine being on vogue covers, receiving fan mail about how beautiful I was, my friends stopping me and telling me how beautiful I was, etc. I would turn on my favorite song, and I would be the beauty queen I wanted to be, right then and there.

One day, I remember walking into my bathroom and suddenly feeling so irritated with the small cloth I had used to cover my bathroom mirror that I ripped it off, because how could it get in the way of me seeing myself. And when I looked at myself I saw every inch of beauty I had wanted, I saw myself, for the first time and I loved myself. I loved my face, my eyes, my nose, the beauty had been sitting there dormant waiting for me to bring awareness to it. I cried so hard that my eyes were sore and I still was in awe of myself.

Before I knew it, I was receiving the very compliments I imagined, being asked on dates, being stopped on the street, being admired and adored and it wasn’t because I truly wanted those things, what I wanted was to feel loved, to feel adored, and I gave myself that, i repotted, watered, and tended to that tree in my heart until it grew and produced it’s own fruits naturally all on its own.

It starts with you my love. Give it to yourself and you shall see it reflect. Go within and don’t be scared to explore the depths of your imagination because it is so powerful, you are so powerful. Step into that feeling you seek and everything else will follow, but you are the gardener.

so I ask you, what seeds are you planting within yourself?

luv, che <3

#law of assumption #manifesting #neville goddard #self concept #manifestation #desired reality #manifest #shifting motivation #shifting realities #loa

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bunni-v1 · 1 month ago

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hii, congratulations on 500 followers 🎊

May I request a full nsfw alphabet for azul ashengrotto please?

🍓Huzzah, Azul is done. I think I only have three more of these, and then I'm done with them. I'm planning on writing more for Lighter though, so... lord knows when I'll refocus lol. I just... I love he.

Azul NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare: This can go one of two ways: Azul pampers you or you pamper Azul. He wants nothing more in the whole world than to ensure that you are comfortable, happy, and satisfied. He will wipe you down, draw you a bath, wash your hair, and give you a whole spa treatment if you let him. He wraps you up in fluffy towels and gives you his softest set of pajamas, that is when he has the energy to do that. Usually, Azul is so worn out that he can’t pamper you like the queen you are, and you’re the one doing all that for him. The only exception is when he’s in his mer form… he uses considerably less energy to satisfy both of your needs like that, let's just say.

B = Body Part: He’s a thigh guy, you can just tell from that stupid little smirk. Legs are so annoying, they’re clunky and they move oddly; he hates them. That is until he saw yours. Suddenly he gets the appeal. They’re truly captivating, you know? They can be so graceful on the right person. As for himself, I think he’d probably say something like his hands or his face. He uses his hands a lot, to write contracts, make food, use magic, etc.. They’re useful, and you seem to enjoy them a lot when he uses them on you. With his face, he knows he’s handsome and charming, it’s one of his biggest weapons so of course he’s a fan of it.

C = Cum: Azul is very conservative, I feel. It’s either inside or nothing. He just thinks it’s kind of gross, I mean, seriously he doesn’t want to stain his nice satin sheets. Also, uhm, why would he waste his seed when it could be put to proper use? Before you ask, yes, he scoops up any that manages to slip out and pushes it back in. As for color, I imagine it’s much darker in color than humans, more of a grey/blue color and it’s rather sweet tasting. If you ask him nicely, he might let you eat it up.

D = Dirty Secret: Maybe not a secret, but he wants to knock you up sooooo bad. He’s fully aware it’s irresponsible, you’re both college students with lives ahead of you, but imagining you with his kids makes him a little more than irrational. He’d NEVER let it happen though, always ensuring you’ve taken the morning-after pill or your birth control if you have it. He’s not ready to be a father until he’s got his business ventures settled. (In a few years after you graduate though? Lol, good luck with this guy.)

E = Experience: NONE! Azul has zero experience and it shows. He’s super clumsy the first time, and everything makes him blush. He cums putting it in and he cries about it too. You can’t blame him though, he’s kind of a super loner. It’s not like he’d ever let anyone close enough to sleep with him in the first place, so be gentle with him. He definitely gets way better as he learns what you like. You come across him studying human sexual anatomy a few times, and even though he’s embarrassed, thinking about it like classwork helps calm his nerves.

F = Favorite Position: If he’s topping, probably missionary – unless you’re fucking his mer form, then he pretty much pulls you around however he likes. Weirdly, he likes holding you upside down while he pumps his tentacles inside you. He thinks you won’t be able to hurt him that way (you weren’t gonna hurt him period, but instinct wins ig). When you’re topping, cowgirl all the way, please. Loves watching you bounce, it’s so satisfying.

G = Goofy: I don’t see him as goofy during, not intentionally, at least. He’s playful sure, enjoying teasing you for your reactions, but he’s not really jokey. He doesn’t think sex is the time to mess around and poke fun at each other. It’s intimate and vulnerable, so he’d rather not crack jokes if he can.

H = Hair: Rest assured that Azul is wonderfully groomed. Sometimes he shaves it clean down there, other times he keeps a little white tuft of hair, but it’s always nice and presentable.

I = Intimacy: Oh Azul is so sweet. He holds you close and whispers in your ear about how happy he is, how lucky he is to have you, how much he loves you. It’s a very vulnerable time, and when Azul is so flooded with pleasure, he tends to lose himself to it. He wants the same reassurance from you, of course, especially when you’re the one in charge. Be sure to whisper sweet nothings to make him feel good.

J = Jack Off: He doesn’t like masturbating, like, at all. It’s such an annoying task and it’s so messy, so he avoids it at all costs. The only time he’ll try it is if you ask to watch him, and he expects a nice reward afterward too. Other than that? Why would he do anything like that when he has you to help?

K = Kink: So other than the established breeding kink, I think Azul is pretty vanilla. He’s not into restraints usually. Other than in his mer form, where he can easily twist and bend and hold you where he likes. He’s not all that into marking, finds it more embarrassing than anything. One thing he is into is size difference – specifically when he’s in his mer form you are dwarfed by him. You’re so small and malleable and cute, especially when you whine that you can’t handle it anymore.

L = Location: His bedroom is a fan favorite. It’s quiet and private, and no one can bother either of you. He’d rather no one be able to see either of you in such an intimate position, especially not Floyd or Jade. You can, however, convince him to let you have sex in his office. The door is lockable and there are no widows, and the room is soundproof. The only issue is Jade has a key (NOT Floyd), and you could still get caught, but the risk is… kind of thrilling. (Jade would 100% do it on purpose too).

M = Motivation: Seeing your legs is a big one for him. He could stare at them all day if allowed, the way they move, and sevens if he could touch them it would be way better. Wearing stockings or particularly short shorts and skirts also kills him. Alternatively, arguing with him (in a playful way) is a surefire way to get him riled up. He doesn’t know why he likes it so much, he just gets a thrill when you’re both poking each other's buttons.

N = No: Absolutely nothing public, he hates the idea of being watched. On top of that, no filming or pictures of either of you. He doesn’t want them to accidentally get out and be used as blackmail against him. Also no degradation, please. He’s sensitive, he will cry and it will ruin the mood, so don’t hurt him like that. Oh, no sharing either. He’s not a big fan of sharing his loved one’s attention, especially not in this context.

O = Oral: Listen Azul might be bad in bed to start, but he’s amazing at eating you out. It’s the one thing that he just got immediately, and that isn’t a commentary on him liking food or anything, he’s just fucking talented with his tongue. Like, mind-blowingly good at manipulating it in ways that will have your eyes rolling.

P = Pace: Azul always tries to take his time with things, so he’s very slow and sensual. He prefers deep and precise thrusts over aggressive and fast ones because he likes to feel everything. Sometimes he closes his eyes just to get lost in that sensation. However, as he gets closer and closer to cumming he gets a little sloppy. He misses his rhythm more and more until he stutters his hips and pushes aaaalllllllllll the way in.

Q = Quickie: Not a big fan of them, honestly. Like I said, he prefers to take his time and really feel everything, so quickies are just not his forte. Not to say he’s against them, he absolutely has indulged you in his office really quick between clients, but he just doesn’t prefer them.

R = Risk: He does not like risk, which makes him way too anxious and he performs way worse than he normally does. He doesn’t want to be seen in an intimate position with you like that, and he’s not all that up to experiment out of his comfort zone either. He knows what he likes, and it’s highly unlikely you surprise him.

S = Stamina: He doesn’t have a lot of stamina for himself, which is why he takes a nice long time with foreplay. He enjoys seeing you cum a few times before the main event, mostly because he can only cum once before he’s done. Though, in his mer form this isn’t the case. He can go for multiple rounds non-stop if you want, he just usually doesn’t because that’s not exactly healthy for a human to go through.

T = Toys: I don’t think he has many toys for you, because why would you need them when you have him? He can do more than any of them even could. He takes extra offense to tentacle-shaped toys, do you think he’s a joke? Besides, he knows how much more you like his tentacles so why would you waste time with silicone when you have a much nicer alternative?

U = Unfair: Believe it or not, Azul isn’t unfair at all. He’s not that big of a tease, though sometimes he comes off that way, and he certainly won’t make you beg for your own pleasure. It’s his job to make you feel good, withholding that is a failure to uphold his side of the bargain. He can’t have that. Now if you tease him a little he wouldn’t be opposed, just… when he tells you to stop, please stop.

V = Volume: Azul is very whiny. He tries his best to bite back his noises, but he always makes them, and he makes a lot of them. Usually, it’s little squeaks and sighs of pleasure, but sometimes when he’s really far gone, he makes these delicious drawn-out moans that would make a porn star blush. He would like it if you were vocal as well, mostly to drown out his shame a little lol.

W = Wild Card: Azul would absolutely love to eat a full meal off you one day. Like, appetizers, main course, and you for dessert type shit. As much as he tries to hide it, he loves food so much, and I know he would love to combine it with you. So, eating food off of you is a bigggggg thing he wants to do someday. (He would never voice this, and would take it to his grave.)

X = X-Ray: Azul’s member is the strongest out of the Octinivelle trio, purely because it’s just not human looking even in human form. Jade and Floyd at least have human-like penises, but Azul… not so much. It’s wide, on the shorter side about 4 inches, and black in color. It resembles a tentacle but retains the human penile structure. It’s the same in his mer-form, so its easy to assume his penis just isn’t affected in the transformation.

Y = Yearning: Azul’s sex drive is about average, but he doesn’t usually act upon it. He likes to have sex maybe once a week, but with his schedule, even that can be difficult. He’s very good at ignoring his needs when he needs to, so a lot of the time you’ll have to be the one to initiate and tell him to do something about his yearning problem. Z = Zzz: He falls asleep pretty quickly depending on how long everything took. He likes to stay up and care for you and himself a bit, but he’s still quick to fall asleep when everything is in order. He just doesn’t have that much energy, poor thing.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul twst #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #bunni's treats 🧁

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pawl3ss · 4 months ago

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I came here to be a hater and hate on the minecraft movie trailer.

Get ready because this is probably the longest and the most autistic post ive made so far

I wont talk about the weird cgi and how unprofessional it looks but about how inaccurate the trailer is because it pisses me off and I have to be a nerd about it <3

ALSO IM NOT SURE IF TUMBLR WILL LET ME POST ALL OF THIS IN ONE POST so if it doesnt ill reblog with the rest <:3

first of all, those are NOT minecraft mountains.

Yes such seeds exist and you can find smt like that super easily in the game but it does NOT look so blocky

It should be a bit more smooth like here ⬆️

Next, what the fuck happened to the flowers.

Alot of the plants, trees, etc look like a disrespectful rip off of minecraft

Talking about plants, the trees are a big wtf

On the first pic you can see the log is SO THIN. LIKE THINNER THAN A TOOTHPICK. In the second you can see it is thicker, but because the block that fell out is so Itty bitty, you have to make the tree thinner.

The tree is as wide as the players, and when the block falls out its bigger than whatever the fuck this is. Yes I understand they have to carry the blocks and they can't make it too big, but you know what's a good solution? - make the blocks bigger when they fall out, but make them shrink when they get close/get put into a chest or inventory. SO EASY

Also I know you can find pink sheep naturally in the game, but oh come on.

You want to show how sPeCiAl the characters are and that they're sOoOoOo special they found a pink sheep on their spawn but oh my God you could have just let it be a normal sheep.

We stay with animals, and WHAT HAPPENED TO THE POOR WOLF. THE SNATCHED WAIST???? WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM ☹️

and why is the creeper so, fluffy. Creepers are NOT made out of fur they are made of what alot of minecraft players suspect rotten skin like zombies or a skin-alike material, but it is NOT fur.

Also, *wrong buzzer sound* llamas don’t just spawn naturally. Unless theres a wandering trader (or however theyre called in english) they aren’t able to spawn just like that. They also usually have the carpet on their back.

EDIT: TURNS OUT THEY DO SPAWN NATURALLY IN MOUNTAIN BIOMES. still the Llama being here looks like they just put her there to try and "be funny" ykwim?

I also wanted to also say, this one character I feel that they're gonna be the most stereotypical, annoying one out of the whole movie and my ears hurt just looking at them

I wanted to say that the portal shouldn't be blue but like. Only the nether portal is purple, it's unknown how other portals look so... yeah

But still wtf is this cube??? What's the fuck are you holding young man???

Also, talking about mobs, piglins dont look like that, they dont have red light in their eyes, they dont have those drum-things because THEY DONT EVEN EXIST IN MINECRAFT which i will get to latur. They aren’t able to build like that, they aren’t able to get wood for trapdoors and for the fences and iron for the chains. Also they do not even know how to craft, they probably domt even know what a crafting table is. And ghasts also aren’t able to be in the overworld. I understand that theyre invading the land ans taking over but still Like Cmon >:(

I also wanted to say that this is not how nether looks but like. It does a bit, like where the piglins usually spawn ykwim? so ill give them that, the nether looks alr

Anyway TALKING ABOUT THINGS THAT DONT EXIST IN MINECRAFT: whatever this is, it isnt craftable in minecraft, unless there are mods installed. But the „mods” excuse can be used for everything in this post. It was the first thing i saw that pissed me off so badly that i had to make this post because like JUST USE ALL THE STUFF THAT THE ORIGINAL FRANCHISE HAS TO OFFER! NORMAL BUCKETS WOULD PROBABLY WORK JUST FINE!

Last but not least, if you think those two are the same character ive got some bad news for you buddy.

At least dye his beard brown. At least get the colours right. Please.

I think i mentioned everything i wanted. Lets hope the movie will get fixed or will turn out to be at least a bit better.

Thank you for letting me get nerdy about it <3

#pawl3ss #shitpost again #Rant #minecraft #minecraft movie #Honestly im so happy to talk about this because i absolutely love minecraft and talking about something that can -#- that can potentially ruin the fanbase of one of the most beloved franchises lets me yap about minecraft & it just makes me so happy :3 #it makes me so mad that a movie about one of my favourite games is being so disrespected like #i bet my whole life savings that i could have made a minecraft movie post it on yt and it woulve been ten times better that this shit

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strawberrysnoopy · 11 months ago

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ACT ONE: The Photo Shoot, part one

prologue

summary of the series: for months, leon has been writhing in his bed dreaming of his friend's wife (you). he's been fighting the desperation for months until that one night you bring up a lingerie shoot you've done for a prestigious brand.

summary of this part: recalling the first time you and leon met, you've realized you've been poorly treated by your husband. leon is no different, in a toxic relationship with his wife, ada wong. as the seeds of resentment have begun to germinate, the desire for you grows like a brush fire nearby.

warnings: MENTIONS OF PUKE, BUT NOT ACTUAL PUKING, leon teaches you how to smoke (i don't wanna see no dumb stupid comments about "oh but leon hates smoking", well leon isn't disloyal but here we are), brief use of (adjective) girl (atta girl, good girl, silly girl), praise, mentions of misogyny (not from Leon ofc), awkward, tense ass convos, a fuckton of desc. and a little description, no sex (yet ;) ), cussing, descriptions of fucking, descriptions of masturbation, semi-public masturbation, almost caught masturbating, slight corruption kink (? if you squint), alcohol consumption, use of tobacco, smoking, implied sexual references, etc.

also a/n, writing this as of feb. 2nd, 2024: 60 notes?!!!!! i was writing this for my own personal pleasure but like...??!?! i got reblogged so many times?! im gagged, tysm you guys!!! making a playlist rn, so excited to release the soundtrack. if you see little random edits, i'm probably obsessing over the fic and trying to make it perfect lol/anticipate changes. i would also like to write I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING! always communicate with your partner, discuss issues, etc. this fic is just a lil’ taboo type of fantasy, do NOT cheat on your partners.

The first time you met Leon was at a grocery store: two weeks before your husband would have any idea of his existence and one week before he had invited Leon and his wife, Ada, over for dinner. You were picking up a bottle of red wine for you and your husband under the guise of wanting something nice for date night. The reality would actually be you were buying it for yourself after your husband decides you're not worth his affections anymore, lazily mosey on over to the spare room, and pull out his phone to text other women. The wine would be something to drink to inebriate you while you watched a shitty re-run of a sitcom from the 90s. Maybe if you got lucky, Golden Girls was on.

He was only browsing, stumbling upon the liquor section and staying to look if there would be anything worthwhile. And there was. It was you. He knew he had to think of something witty, something cool people say, before you left and thought he was some creep staring at you because he saw a smidgen of your breasts in a magazine. "You're a famous model, right?" He asked. Oh, how stupid he felt. He was a chronic overthinker: thinking of every last terrible scenario, a trait he picked up after becoming an agent. This had certainly felt like one of the worst options he picked, especially with how you would-- You interrupted him. "Yeah, that's me." The subtle sweetness, the slight rasp in your voice was better than anything any street drug could offer with the amount of dopamine flooding into his brain: overloading every neuron, synapse, dendrite, and cell membrane in his body.

But for whatever reason, he stretched his hand outwards and lazily grinned towards you. "I'm Leon." "Nice to meet you. Well, I'd say my name but y'know..." He nodded in an awkward agreement before you could even finish your sentence, but not daring to go as far to interrupt you. He felt as if he already started off the conversation with a cumbersome beginning. "Right, right. So, that's your real name? I see a lot of models use stage names n' stuff like that." He adjusts his weight from one foot to the other, switching the hand holding his grocery basket from his right to his left. He felt so...awkward around you. Maybe it was the fact you were a famous model, or maybe it was the fact you were just so calm. The joke causes a soft chuckle to leave your lips and the mere look of a fleeting moment of bliss to cross over your features makes his knees turn into gelatin. Those nerves solidify into stone when the overwhelming sense of guilt hits him like a tidal wave but allows it to wash over him for the sake of continuing the conversation.

"Yeah, just my regular name. I'm not that creative outside of modeling. Usually the photographers do the thinking and the creative processes for me." He chuckled, shaking his head and barely moving himself a little closer. Leon wanted to sink in that gentle, warm, and soft presence you carried around with you. Your aura felt comforting: like a hug after a tough day: it had felt so much more different than his wife. True, Ada could be affectionate but that's usually only after something good has happened to her or Leon was her last resort of attention. He really hated how much he would act like an obedient dog, awaiting her arrival home, coming back to her after she's treated him like dirt. You? You felt so goddamn altruistic and considerate. And he's only known you for three minutes.

You notice he's gone silent and you're silently hoping he thought you were cool. Cool. Like a teenager trying to fit in. You silently cringe at yourself until he smiles at you, almost like he's signaling you to continue the conversation. You can't think of any conversation starters. And you're a model for gods sake. You're usually so outgoing and social with other people but now it's like a cat came by and stole your voice box. Thankfully, he takes over that portion for you. "Buying wine?" He knew it was dry as all hell but he wanted to steer the conversation away from him being a fan of your modeling gigs. No, he just wanted to talk to you and discover what you were like behind the camera. (Okay, and maybe he wanted to see if you'd flirt with him.) "Yup. But I'm just buying wine for..." You paused, about to say 'for me and my husband' but your throat becomes dry whenever you feel like you're about to announce it to him. "...Myself."

He smiles. He likes that you're awkward in real life. The fact made you feel more real, like you weren't just some sexy model with expensive tastes and a bratty attitude. You were a person like anyone else.

"Right. Me too, just uh...just browsing." You nod, fidgeting anxiously with the sleeves of the coat you decided to toss on last minute before leaving the house.

The conversation went on to end when you eventually realized you would be home late. Although you thought that worrying your husband a little would be the thing that reignited the spark in your marriage, you knew that punctuality was a habit you'd like to upkeep. That, and you also knew if you talked to this handsome stranger for longer, you'd cheat on your husband. That night, Leon had fallen asleep to the thought of you for the first time. Soft little visions of pressing his lips against yours, caressing your cheek softly and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, etc, etc, cheesy lovey dovey bullshit. So much more different than the truly filthy thoughts he had about you nowadays. You're torn from your conversation with your friends when you make eye contact with him. You can practically feel his eyes travel from the hair at the highest point on your head to the very last bit of your black, leathery heels with perfect pretty pearls embellished on the pump. For a moment, you feel like you're trapped in some type of horny labyrinth while you stare longingly at him.

He's ripped out of his own longing by the feeling of your husband's hand slapping his back. Ada sat beside Leon with her arm protectively wrapped around his bicep. You felt as if the gesture were a signal to everyone at the party that Leon belonged to her. He was under her control, nobody else's. Or maybe the protective message was for her husband, as if he was an unruly friend to her husband. And you could agree with that. You fell in love with your husband because he was wild and care-free but after the diamond ring was slipped onto your ring finger, you realized he was also carefree in the sense that hurt you: talking to other women behind your back, and leaving for days at a time only to come back inebriated. But you stood by his side, no matter what. You hated how you felt like a doormat but you didn't know what else to do besides stay married and play the role of an oblivious wife while your husband fucks other women in various positions. In a way, you and Leon sat in the same loveless boat. Who knew when that same boat would be shaking from the violence of the both of you fucking, clothing pulled out and to the side instead of being fully taken off. Your thoughts become interrupted by an unmistakably handsome voice.

"Hey."

You feel a hand being placed upon your lower back except it's so much more different than your husband's. The palms were rough, callouses inside the nooks and crannies, and pulsing veins make you all dizzy if you thought about it for too long. His voice was dampened with some undertone of lust, his fingers prodding into the skin of your sides. He's always been a little too handsy for a man that's supposed to happily married. But you always figured touch was how he communicates: touch. But he's never touchy with your husband. Or any of your friends. And he missed you? Sure, your're friends due to the fact your husband was friends with Leon. (Even though you met him first, but I digress.) The simple phrase had your mind reeling, cheeks flushed red due to the hidden intimacy of it all. His wife shoots him a look and his hand immediately retreats back to his side, fighting the urge to palm the engorged erection struggling against the seam of his boxers. "Haven't seen you in so long, hm? Thought you disappeared on me for a minute." He's holding his facade of being totally and irrevocably in love with Ada up and steady. Like he had no feelings for you other than being friends.

"Of course not." You murmur, feeling a hearty chuckle reverberate from his chest. He takes his index finger and his thumb and gently swiping it against your chin.

"Atta girl." And of course, with how hoarse his voice is, your panties are instantly puddled with a thick pool of arousal. You hate his stupid, thick, sexy, and deep voice. You especially hate his voice whenever you imagine him degrading and praising you whenever your husband was away and you just happened to have your hand down your underwear, playing with your clit to ease the throbbing impulses you felt for Leon. He gives your back a single pat before moving back to stand beside his wife. You really hate that you feel jealousy flare like wildfire within you, but you brush it off.

Everyone would eventually be drawn to the several dining tables that were arranged in a group and had golden candlesticks and smooth white tablecloths on top. Once you are seated, you observe that Leon appears to be striving extra hard to guarantee his place beside you. He looks right at you for a brief moment. And only then can you see, just a hint of thirst sprouting in his eyes, before he glances away from you and gives Ada a quick smile while patting her thigh.

It's only a few minutes before Leon decides to break the awkward silence.

"How's that modeling gig going?" You nod, gulping down way too much champagne.

"Good, been going good. Have to admit it gets a little boring posing in front of the camera after a while but can't bite the hand that pays you, right?" You joke, and the table laughs with some sense of jealousy. "Nice to hear. What was your latest shoot?" He asked, leaning forward in a sudden rush of intrigue. Then those words pass your lips. Words he had never anticipated, even in his wildest guess (oddly.)

"A lingerie shoot. For Chanel." The table goes quiet. And everyone, including your dumb-ass husband, look at you. Someone (Ada) clears their throat in the dining room, hinting at you to elaborate and it's almost like you suddenly developed to ability to hear from light years away.

Leon, who had just finally got his goddamn boner under control feels his cock twitch back to life, fully hard instead of a semi this time. And correct him if he's wrong, but he starts to feel pre-cum smearing his dress pants. He's thankful he chose the black slacks instead of his lighter colored ones otherwise this would be downright humiliating.

"Sorry, um...I did an intimates photo-shoot for Chanel a few weeks ago for their new line of clothing." That seems to help lighten the mood a lot more because everyone goes back to their conversation with their respective friends, the embarrassing "confession" from you immediately leaving their minds. "The theme was Overtime. Like, staying later in the office with my shirt unbuttoned and stuff. Nothing that interesting."

The table simultaneously nodded, Leon going as far to excuse himself for a cigarette.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go have a smoke." Leon scoots out from his seat, heading towards the upstairs balcony to take care of business. Asshole, leaving me with his mean ass wife.

You decide to join him outside.

The air had finally gotten too tense, felt too judgmental for your taste. Scampering outside, you're met with the sight of Leon smoking a cigarette outside. That's odd: you've usually pegged him to be the straight-laced, no-nonsense type of man yet here he was, smoking a cigarette while leaning against the balustrade of their friend's top floor home. At the sound of the balcony door opening, he turns his head to see what you're doing out here. His eyes scan you, almost like he would while he's in combat but it's more or less to get another glimpse of the outfit you were wearing tonight. Okay, and maybe he wanted to commit the sight of you to memory.

"You alright?" He asked, trying his best to look straight forward when you step closer and cross your arms over the balustrade.

"M'fine, just needed a minute of fresh air, I think." When you sit beside Leon, there's a few things you notice. The first was his outfit. A white button-up that usually would be covered by his black suit jacket, though he left it behind on his chair in the dining room. There's also mentioning his blacks slacks, fitting his muscular thighs a bit tight but loose enough so they're comfortable. Then there's the dress shoes, ones he wore at his wedding due to how overly formal they looked. Maybe he wanted to get some more use out of them? Who knows.

"What about you? Why are you out here?" You decided to be the one to take the reigns since the air outside had become incredibly awkward as well. "Same. Thought I'd take a minute of fresh air, you know?" The second thing you notice about Leon is how much he calms you. More importantly, how much you never noticed that you were anxious when you were around others. He had this aura of relaxing or maybe you were just buzzed, who knows that either? Maybe it's the cigarette, speaking of...

"I haven't smoked since college. Cigarettes, I mean. Don't think I even know how to do it anymore." The confession makes his head tilt to the side, now taking more of an interest in the conversation than before. He grinned wolfishly, taking your chin in one of his thick and strong hands and pulling your head forward. For a second, you could almost be dumb enough to think he'd be moving in for a kiss. Of course not. You'd never be that lucky. "Open f'me, sweetheart." And like an obedient puppy, you opened your mouth just enough so your pretty pink-shaded lips could be parted. He placed the cigarette on your lip, the moisture making the filter stay in your mouth alongside his index and middle finger holding it up, thumb brushing your chin. Little hazes of grey smoke dance along your tongue without even taking a sip of the smoke yet, your lips trembling with a lustful agony. "Now close your mouth..." He whispered, his damp and hot and horny breath hitting your ear like an affectionate declaration of love. "And inhale."

You close your lips around the cigarette, faintly tasting the flavor of him where he had sucked on the cigarette. You got notes of citrus, rum or some expensive, top-shelf label of whiskey he used to help quell the pain he experienced on grueling missions, tobacco, and maybe even the slightest hint of his wife's lipstick. Chanel's Rogue Allure, if you had to guess correctly. "...Now hold it..."

You held it. "Silly girl." He whispered, pulling the cigarette away from your lips while you slowly exhaled the rest of the smoke you've been holding in your mouth and then some. You can't tell if it's because of the alcohol, Leon's presence, or your mere anxiety but you begin to feel dizzy. Thankfully Leon seems to swoop in with his questions to keep your head in the game. Bless him.

"Why'd you need a minute, huh?"

For a minute there, you didn't know how to respond. Looking down at the leathery pumps you chose for the evening, you begin to wonder why you even chose them instead of answering his question. But you answered him. Eventually.

"I'm just tired. This whole night just seems a bit…” You gesture to the party in the background. “Fake. I don’t want to be here."

He hummed in agreement, but it felt like more of a signal for you to keep going. "I'm also just terrible at making conversation. Especially when it's awkward and silent."

His eyes flicker down to the pumps he'd already stared at tonight, not finding an interest in them anymore than your own body. He tucked his lip between his teeth, pulling the pink flesh away from his mouth before he spoke up again. "You're not that bad, you know? I think you're pretty good. How about this?" He pauses. Then a beat passes.

"Tell me something true. Tell me something you wouldn't brag to anyone about." He moved his cigarette to rest on the balustrade instead of the space between his fingers. "Something that's yours...and only yours."

You look at Leon with wide eyes, mouth agape as you struggle to answer his question. Your eyes rake down his face from the space between his eyebrows to his parted, pink lips: just a little chapped from the cold chill of the night air. You wanted to kiss him. All of those times you've had him over for dinner, all of those times you've spent with your hand down your panties while your husband was away on "business": dreaming of his best friend, Leon, and god, all of those times you thought about throwing caution to the wind and leaning in to press your lips against his: the sum of all of those moments had you quivering for more.

But you'd never cheat. You have a reputation. You have a husband that gifted you the pretty diamond ring on your finger. But how did it always feel so...impossible? Like you couldn't live another day if you weren't able to fuck Leon like a rabid dog in heat. But he was staring at you, almost as if his eyes were laser beams and searing holes into your skin: you had to answer.

"I don't know what I could tell you that's only mine." You chew on your lip. "Huh. How about..."

How about the fact I wanna kiss you? I wish it was you I was in bed with rather than my stupid, cheating husband? The fact you are so much hotter than him?

"I hate being a trophy." And that brings the biggest grin on Leon's face. A massive shit-eating grin. Leon had gone stir crazy. He wanted to peel your entire being open, see all of the nooks and crannies of your soul and devour it whole. But now wasn't the time to scare you away: even if he wanted to fuck you, you were still a friend to him. So he calmed down. "I can't say that's too surprising. I mean, who would? Being able to be pretty and have money being tossed at you is nice until you want something deeper. Then it seems like one of the only things that are scarce in your life."

You nod, letting out a breath of consolation. "That's exactly how I feel. Like my only purpose is to sit still, look pretty, serve my husband, and be a hole when he needs it."

His eyes become downcast, looking down at the garden on the ground level of the restaurant. "I get what you mean." The moment was interrupted by a waiter peeking out on the two of you: head poked outside of the door that lead to the outside area. He pulls his hand away from your soft skin and back to his side, sighing wistfully that tonight wouldn't be the night he gets to act on his desires for you. Damn it all to hell.

"You should head back. I'll be back, yeah?" You nod and within a few seconds, you've returned to your spot at the dinner table. He sighs, hand slipping down to palm at his erection. Fuck. Can't go back like this.

Just resist. You're just another woman. You have a husband, He thinks to himself, I'm married to a lovely woman. I am a faithful husband. The silent mantra he practices on himself works about as well as a band-aid on a bullet hole. Resist. God, but you looked so pretty tonight. That cute jewelry set you wore with your little black dress? Hot. The smoothness of your skin?

Resist.

But he can't stop picturing you on your knees in front of him, sucking on his cock. The sounds your perfect, wet mouth would make. How he'd ease himself down your throat. How you'd whine.

Resist.

Or how about when he could be fucking his cock into your tight, wet, and warm cunt? The tip of his dick kissing your cervix? Or what about the positions he could force your body into? Like having his arm around your throat, bicep curling into your mouth to muffle your moans from his wife hearing? Or how one of his hands would be gripping your hips while he needily plowed into your pussy, while you begged him to let up. Resist.

Resist.

Fuck it.

In the few moments after he's excused himself from you, he's already rushing to the upstairs bathroom of the restaurant: thanking the holy beings above for making it a single stall bathroom for his jerking pleasure. He hastily unbuckles his belt with one hand, other hand impulsively opening Twitter as a first resort to find some fashion fanatic post about the slutty lingerie photo-shoot you did for Chanel. Alas, you're still a bit of an undiscovered goddess in the modeling industry at the moment: so Google is his next best option. He pulls out his half-hard but hardening cock from his jeans before he can even find your photo-shoot and gives it a quick few pumps to ease the throbbing that's starting to build up in his loins. Eventually, he finds it. Thank fucking god because the creativity for his fantasies are beginning to run quite dry. And instantly he's grunting and groaning while he strokes his cock and scrolls through the multiple scandalous photos the photographers took of you.

"Fuck." He winces in pleasurable agony as he stares at quite possibly his favorite photo of you. The photo was in black and white: theme being "Overtime" like you mentioned. The white button up shirt was undone, revealing you had nothing on underneath, and allowed for the side of your perfect breasts to be revealed. If he squinted just a little harder, he could see your puffy nipples threatening to peek out of the shirt. He tried squinting a little harder to see your nipples a little easier. And oh my god. You have piercings?! He almost shot his entire load on the spot. God, he needed to fuck you. And hard. He groans as he feel himself get closer to orgasm. Closer, and closer, until--

"Leon?"

Fuck. It was you. God, of course you're so goddamn sweet, checking up on him to make sure he's okay. He didn't dare stop stroking himself off, especially not when he's got jerk-worthy material of you almost catching him. That's also not mentioning the soft intonations of your almost innocent voice right there. He's trying not to cum too quick, wanting to savor those images for as long as he could but he also realized his wife might start asking some questions and she wouldn't be on the other side of the door if she came upstairs. "F-fuck, yeah?" He responded after much too long of hearing your sweet voice. "Did you need something?" "Are you okay? I just got worried when you left. You've been gone for like..." You check your wristwatch: a classic and dainty Timex from the 80s with a blank band that wrapped around your wrist snugly.

"Fifteen minutes. Do you need water? Ibuprofen?" He shakes his head as if you could see him while he continues to jerk himself off, hand swirling in a sort of cranking motion as he tries to work his cock to orgasm. But his pre-cum isn't coming out fast enough, not as fast as the pumping motions his hand was doing right now, so he spits in his hand before bringing his palm back down to his cock and lathering his dick in spit. You believe him enough to think he might be getting ready to vomit.

"Nah, jus'...ngh, drank too much, I think." Please keep talking, He selfishly thinks to himself. "Oh, okay. Well, if you need anything, just text me?" He nodded, grunting out a thank you while he continues to dream of ruthlessly fucking you until you're embedded into his mattress. He wants you. He needs you. He feels himself get a little closer until he finally releases into his fist. His hot and sticky cum ran down his palm while the waves of post-orgasmic bliss and post-nut clarity simultaneously moved together as one. For a few minutes, he's panting like a rabid dog in heat until his breath eventually stills and he's able to walk downstairs and look his wife in the face while giving her the impression that he definitely didn't just masturbate to his best friend's wife. When he sits down at the table, the first person he makes eye contact with is you. You smile at him, mouthing a "you okay?" because, of course, you're still worried about him being sick. He nods with a grin peeled onto his face. Because he came to the sound of your voice. And you didn't have a fucking clue.

credits: snoopy divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more heart divider by @saradika-graphics

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