#their way of showing their feelings just feels unbalanced

[skepticalarrie]

https://www.tumblr.com/apparentlybychance/778287430763724800?source=share

Alliee, have you read this? I totally agree, and I’d like to add something, but first, let me clarify that I don’t know much about PR and marketing, so I’m speaking more from my experience as a fan:

I’ve also been thinking about why I’ve had such a negative response to Louis’ public image in the last few months and why that didn’t happen with Harry, especially during 2022 and 2023 (which did happen for many fans).

I realized that despite the media, holivia, and emrata heavily pushing the public narrative of Harry, I still connected with him because I saw the real side of Harry at his shows and in some interviews—especially that vulnerability and sensitivity that he’s known for.

But with Louis, it feels totally different because he brings his ‘lads lad’ persona to the stage and almost all his public appearances. I don’t see vulnerability—I see toughness, and it feels inauthentic because that’s not who he is. He’s still sweet. The only real moments we seem to get from him are in pictures with his nieces and nephews and some fan interactions. Personally, I feel like there are very few things that allow me to connect with him right now, and it’s sad.

I’ll still support him, but it’s a bit frustrating at times. I really hope he and his team find a better strategy.

Hi, dear! I have, I just reblogged yesterday, amazing analysis by @apparentlybychance 👏👏

I agree that vulnerability really connects people, and with Louis especially, fans have always had a soft spot for him because of that. From the beginning, he was seen as super sweet and soft, so shutting that down now can feel a little off.

I still see authenticity in him, though. I think leaning into this chav persona is his way of reclaiming his roots, and I’ll always support that—he’s clearly proud of where he comes from, and I love that for him. But I do think he’s pushing it a wayyy too hard and, in the process, neglecting another side of his roots. The same roots that shaped him as an artist—coming from a boyband, being this extremely friendly and comforting presence for fans. It’s a big shift. He’s a complex artist, and it’s totally fair for him to have both sides. But right now, it feels really unbalanced. I can’t blame anyone who’s struggling to find the Louis they always loved in him at the moment. It does seem like he’s pushing that part of himself away more and more, and ironically, that can end up feeling a bit inauthentic too.

[moon0fairy]

I thought I was thinking to negatively but I‘m glad people have the same critique as me. I found Po a bit too passive especially in the end. He was the one who broke up with Thame so I wished he would‘ve given Thame a big speech in the end confessing his love but in the end it was Thame again. Thame also said I love you twice while Po never said it back (I understand you don‘t have to say even though you do but in a show setting it feels kinda off).

I also wish they mentioned the letter again because it played a big role in ep 12 and then nothing? I really wished Po answered the letter and confessed his feelings after the concert and maybe initiated the kiss (that would’ve been a bonus)

I truly loved the show but Po‘s passiveness is probably my biggest criticism

I think my biggest disappointment with ThamePo was that the memorized phone number 'paid off' in a totally unneeded phone call that didn't actually benefit anyone in the end since Po was literally right there and it was basically just a pointless moment of Po waiting for Thame to make the first move yet again.

(My actual ideal use of it would have been for Po to wake up during their separation to text messages checking up on him from an unfamiliar number only to find out later that it was Thame worrying about him in the middle of the night despite their break up because that would have broken my heart.

Or if they had used the phones to find each other instead of just... being there. I really just wanted the phone number to mean something and to have more depth, to have Po answer a new number and asking who it was and Thame answering in a panic and asking him where he was and them trying to both give directions while rushing to each other... ugh, it could have been SO good.)

I do also wish Po had made the first move at any point but he did claim Thame in front of his friends so at least he did something for them as a couple.

(I would also have loved to see them being open about their relationships in a bigger way but I suppose that's more Our Skyy material rather than finale episode.)

[phinjeet]

* dont want 2 b needlessly mean in pnf post tagz but damn i do not care 4 the doof/perry plot in primal perry at ALL , what do u MEAN ppl dont think of it az the Army Of Baljeetz episode u guyz r so BORING

[dennisboobs]

talking to macdennis shippers makes me realize how much more i enjoy charden lmfao

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Pet Pastimes.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 1.6k.

TW: Dub/Con, Hybrid AU, Snow Leopard!Gojo, Puppy!Reader, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Degradation, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Reader Is Very Oblivious, and Manipulation.

“And you’re sure this is going to help?”

Satoru had been agitated when Suguru first brought you home – all dolled up in your collar, ecstatic to be led along the very same leash he always strained against. You were more obedient than most of the unruly mutts he knew, always happy enough to sit patiently and wait for your next command, but it would take more than a few weeks of passable behavior to convince Satoru dogs were anything but hyper and messy and so loud, he could hear their mindless barking from a mile away. The fact that you were supposedly here to ‘help’ him (Suguru called you a “service animal”, said most captive-born exotic hybrids had more domestic companions, but Satoru didn’t think you deserved such a pretentious title) didn’t make anything better. Satoru didn’t need help. What he needed was Suguru’s attention, but if he couldn’t have that, he’d settle for yours.

“Oh, I’m sure, puppy.” His fist tightened around the base of his cock. Suguru wasn’t home – just a quick errand, he’d claimed, it should only take a few minutes, as if that was an excuse for leaving his favorite pet and dutiful companion at home – and Satoru barely waited for the apartment door to lock before luring you into the kitchen and telling you to get on your knees while he leaned against the counter, Suguru’s forgotten phone well within reach. Currently, you were kneeling in front of him, your hands balled on your thighs and your gaze almost cross-eyed as you struggled to see what he was holding to your lips. He thought you would’ve had a little more experience, but your first owner must’ve been the sheltering type. Part of him was annoyed that he’d have to pick up the slack and teach you something so basic, but overall, he was pleased to know that it would be a long, long time before you got enough practice in to replace Satoru as Suguru’s favorite playmate. “I’ve just been feeling a little stressed out lately,” he said, drawing it out each word, giving your stupid canine brain time to process what he was saying. “This’ll really help me relax. You wanna help me out, right?”

Automatically, you nodded – your pressed frown instantly replaced with an eager smile. Your ears perked up, your concerns completely forgotten when presented with the chance to do what you’d been trained for. “Please, ‘toru,” you whined, and he fought the urge to cringe at the way Suguru’s nickname sounded coming out of your mouth. “Please let me help!”

It was almost cute, just how desperate you were to make him happy.

Almost.

He forced himself to smile back at you, using one hand to scratch at the base of your ears while the other jerked lazily over his cock. He was already hard, thankfully, and at the added stimulation, the sight of you practically drooling on yourself to get a taste of his cock, he felt himself twitch – thick pearls of arousal beginning to bead at the tip and drip onto your chin. You didn’t seem to care, to notice. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that his was the first cock you’d ever seen. “Can you open your mouth for me? Big n’ wide, just like I showed you.”

Like the trained dog you were, you obeyed immediately – letting your mouth fall open and looking up at him with the same bright, expectant eyes that must’ve won Suguru over, when he first picked you up. His hips wanted to buck forward, to bury him to the hilt in your newly available hole, but he held himself back, told himself he had to ease you into it no matter how little you’d done to earn his oh so generously given kindness. In the end, he settled for swiping his thumb over the flushed tip before resting it gingerly on your splayed-out tongue. It only took a second for you to stiffen, to jerk back. You didn’t cough or sputter, but your mouth snapped shut, your expression taking on a certain unease. Satoru fought the urge to bare his teeth. “Is something wrong, puppy?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just—” You closed your mouth, looking away. “It tasted weird. It was bitter, n’ stuff.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “Look, if you still don’t think you can handle this, I can just tell Suguru you decided you’d rather go back to the pound—”

“Please don’t!” Your hands shot to his thighs. “I’ll be good, I promise, and I can’t— I don’t want to go back to the—”

“Then open your mouth.” After a second, you straightened, your lips parting and your jaw going slack. Still, he feigned reluctance, narrowing his eyes into a half-hearted glare as he raked his fingers through your hair and tugged half-heartedly, just hard enough to draw out a strained whimper. “And this time, don’t fuck everything up just because it ‘tastes weird’. If you do that again, I’ll have to tell Suguru you were being a bad dog.”

Your ears drooped, your tail falling slack against the tiled floor. Still, you managed not to jerk back as he slid his cock into your open mouth, slotting his tip against the velvety inside of your cheek. He could see you wince, your shoulders rising as you fought the urge to pull away, but even if you’d tried, the fingers knotted in your hair would’ve kept you rooted to the floor as he rolled his hips and thrust shallowly into the hollow of your cheek. Your tongue was smooth compared to his and wide compared to Suguru’s, and he could tell you were fighting not to move, not to explore the unknown factor trespassing inside of you. With a slight hum, he took pity on you – hazy lust having softened his previous annoyance. “It’s okay, puppy – you can lick, if you want to.” There was a moment of hesitation, then the broad flat against your tongue against the underside of his cock, tracing the shape of a prominent vein Suguru tended to favor, too. He shuddered, but told himself it was only out of reflex. You got lucky, that was all. “Mind your teeth. I’m takin’ you back to the shelter myself if you bite down.”

You tried to nod, but gave up quickly. Instead, your acknowledgment came in the form of your tongue curling around his tip, licking at the arousal dripping down his shaft, doing your best to lap at the shaft of his cock despite the awkward angle. Saliva and pre-cum pooled in the corners of your mouth, but you didn’t dare tilt your head back, didn’t dare swallow - keeping your mouth wide open as he drew back just far enough to pull out of your cheek and aim, instead, towards the back of your throat. You flinched, your dull nails scraping against his thighs, but it was easy to drown out the dull spark of pain as your tight throat fluttered and tightened around his cock, as the hand still wrapped around his base fell away in favor of joining its twin on the back of your skull and pulling you flush against his crotch. This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from reacting – your body lurching against his legs as you gagged, as you tried to wretch yourself out of his hold, but he was too far gone to so much as consider letting you go. “Stupid mutt,” he mumbled, cupping the back of your skull while you fought not to suffocate on his length. “Don’t even know how to breathe right. Can’t do anything on your own, huh, can you?”

Your only response was a choked inhale, a string of incoherent gibberish half-muffled by his cock. Drool wasn’t the only thing dripping down your face, now – tears were rolling down your cheeks, fat and hot, drawing thick trails through the mess of cum and spit. Your tongue wasn’t moving, anymore, but he didn’t care – your mouth was warm and soft and fuckable enough to make up for your lack of skill. You were beating at his legs, too, your little hands made even smaller when compared to him, and for a second, he could be convinced that you were a little cute. Not cute enough to deserve as much of Suguru’s attention as you got, obviously, but cute.

His cock pulsed against the convulsing walls of your throat, and he cursed under his breath. You let out a pained whine as he drew back, pulling out of you entirely. Without his support, you threatened to buckle over, to collapse into yourself, but he held you up with one hand while the other pumped over his cock too quickly, too roughly not to tip him over the edge. It was all you could do to stare up at him with those big, watery eyes as he let out an airy moan, as he painted thick ropes of white across your messy face, as he left you stained and teary-eyed and covered with his cum.

You blinked once, then twice, but didn’t react, too out of it to complain or cry out or question why his lips quirked up into a small grin, his eyes taking on a dreamy, half-lidded sort of lull. “Good puppy,” he cooed, his heart skipping a beat as he heard your formerly stagnant tail begin to sweep lazily over the tile floor. He reached for Suguru’s phone as he went on, keeping his tone light, delicate. “Can you smile for me, too? A big, wide smile – to show how happy you are that you get to stay with me n’ Suguru.”

It took a second, but eventually, you managed a stilted nod. It was shaky, at first, more of a mangled frown than anything, but with a little love and patience, you found your footing, your lips splitting apart into a wide, beaming smile – as if you were the happiest, most pathetic puppy in the world.

God.

You were fucking adorable.

Your smile barely faltered as the camera shuttered, as Satoru’s hand fell back to your head and pet over your disheveled hair – a treat for his well-behaved mutt. He could feel you melting into his palm, but his eyes were fixed on his picture of your smiling face and, with a few taps of his thumb, Suguru’s shiny new lockscreen.

Maybe, once Suguru got a good look at your pretty face, he’d think twice before deciding to be such a neglectful owner again.

[would-you-punt-them]

I just want to tell you this:

Thank You So, SO Much for informing people about the horrid Mr. Beast situation occurring within his Squid Game Beast Games.

I don’t think would’ve known about this awful and disgusting event occurring as much as I do now if you didn’t post about it on this blog.

Thank you.

I do think it isn't something that should be brushed under the rug, and I also feel that the more people know about it, the worse it becomes for Jimmy when the Beast Games show actually comes out.

One thing I forgot to include in the post is that the Las Vegas shoot is going to be uploaded on YouTube as an extended qualifier to the actual show on Amazon Prime.

It's worth noting that the contestants didn't know that until they arrived at the stadium. They'd been told that the Las Vegas shoot was the Amazon show, and there would only be 1,000 competitors (which is how it is marketed by Amazon). They only learned that the player-count had doubled and this wasn't going to be on Prime once they were on set, and were shown a video message from Jimmy saying he forgot to mention that actually there were 2,000 people and this wasn't the Amazon show (though MrBeast later claimed that this was always the intent).

I don't know when the video(s) will be uploaded, but I honestly can't wait because I'm dying to know how they're planning on editing the footage to cut out the horrors that took place during the challenges.

Like, how are they going to show the Red team losing the first challenge with the rope and pulley? On the one hand, surely they've got to show the 400 people who were eliminated in that challenge. But on the other hand... what exactly do they have to work with?

The production team refused the Red team's pleas to stop the challenge and demanded they keep going to the end, presumably because they needed them to do it for the sake of the video. Instead, anti-capitalist icons that they are, the entire team abandoned the challenge mid-way anyway so they could go help their teammates who were literally being strangled, throwing the game. And once they'd abandoned the rope, they never picked it up again.

Obviously, the producers can't show competitors being throttled. But that means that they also can't explain why the Reds lost the challenge. If the throttling happened toward the end, maybe they'll be fine, but if it happened closer to the middle, there's no way for them to explain why those 400 people just gave up so early.

It also presumably means any overhead shots of all the teams are ruined, because that would require them to explain why the Reds just aren't participating.

Maybe they could show the Reds giving up, but give a different reason. But no reason I can think of works. If they say they "tried their best but knew they couldn't win", they would then also have to answer the question of why the challenge was impossible for them - the reason being that their team of 400 consisted of about 380 women, while their opposing teams consisted almost entirely of the youngest and strongest male competitors.

And I'm not sure how they're going to explain that, because if they show the challenge of everyone going for coloured jerseys, they can't reveal why the teams ended up so unbalanced, as the actual reason is that the male contestants were hoarding jerseys and were physically violent against the female and elderly contestants, and organised themselves to guarantee they were all on the same team, resulting in a gender split.

I'm also not sure how they plan to edit around challenges like the briefcase game, where in the middle of the cramped field the male contestants were attacking and trampling the women. It's going to take a lot of editing to cut around that. And while they can edit out the injuries occurring they can't edit out the fact that by the end of the challenge there are suspiciously fewer female contestants remaining than there were to begin with.

Additionally, they're going to have to justify why the contestants started off so diverse in gender and age, only for the 1,000 who made it to the actual Amazon show predominantly being young and male, without it becoming clear that no one else had any chance. They can't introduce new contestants to re-diversify the cast, because 1,000 were promised by Amazon, 1,000 qualified, and people will complain if they try to fudge the numbers or cheat by introducing last-minute entries, which is especially bad now that he's currently under fire for allegedly faking and rigging competitions.

Jimmy also can't just not upload it at all, because then he'd have to explain that as well, and this is such a massive event people, both fans and detractors, are going to notice.

The more people know about it, the worse his situation becomes, because there's just no way out of it without inviting questions he doesn't want people to know the answers to.

While this is obviously too much to hope for in this timeline, in an ideal world enough people start talking about this that Amazon cancels his show due to the controversy - Jimmy has said Beast Games is intended to be his break into more traditional media, and I think it would be nice to shut that down.

[supernovae-explosion]

𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒹𝑜 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒸𝑒𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊

I. II. III. .·:¨ Artist | Dividers | Masterlist ¨:·.

Hello! To pick a pile please clear your mind and focus on the images above, whichever one speaks to you the most or you feel the most drawn to, this one is for you! If more than one speaks to you, feel free to read both. Remember to take only what resonates with you 🌠

Pile I.

While tossing the cards I really got some baddass vibes from this collective, intimidating energy... (A bit of emo energy as well) Your beauty and aura makes people shy, I hear that you guys really have that confidence in you, or maybe you're trying to have it, fake it till you make it, am I right? >:3c No, seriously, you're really, REALLY charming, but I feel like your energies may be unbalanced, feminine to be exact. Take care of yourself, go do your skin care routine! Go get comfy, it's a self-care day! Spirit is telling me, that you may be going through some tough times you have some goals in mind that need a lot of changes in your current life and it's challenging for you. Especially inner transformations, these are just as hard if not even harder, then the outer ones. You really are delaying this, but I feel like these changes will turn out to be good for you, you're just resisting the inevitable because it's scary, I fully understand you, but people are noticing this too, even though you're putting up a front. I know you can do it, you are a really strong person. Take some time to rethink all of your plans, don't make rushed decisions and furthermore DO NOT let people change your opinions, you know what you want or at least have some general idea of what you want. And unfortunately people are envious, your energy makes them very easily jealous. They may want to sabotage your goals and dreams seeing you struggle might be satisfying for them, maybe not on purpose, but beware and remember to be assertive! Show these people who's the baddest b**ch here. 💅

Advice: Your enthusiasm gives you energy and motivation to follow your goals. Healthy, honest and assertive communication is the key. Let your feminine energy inspire your creativity, and masculine to keep you confident in your beliefs.

Songs: After Dark by Mr.Kitty | A Match into Water by Pierce The Veil

Pile II.

I couldn't stop laughing while tossing this pile, maybe because the first song that played on shuffle was Lalala but the vibes were kinda goofy in a positive way! But the moment I saw the cards it started to look like a cover-up. It seems like people don't see the real you, they're blinded by the masquerade of abundance that you put on. Numb to the feeling was the second song that played, and honestly it fits with the vibes I'm actually seeing in this pile. There's some trouble in sleeping, somethings are keeping you up, you're stuck with your "demons" while putting on a mask for the people about how good you have it. You keep on pushing and pursuing your goals while hurting and overthinking, you only let them see the good sides of this hard work you're putting into this situation 🥺 Others see you as someone with a bright future, broad horizons and a bright way in front of you, someone who pushes through everything that life throws at them. But they don't see the impact that pushing through has on you. Let others help you a bit, you don't have to suffer alone even though it feels like you can do everything on your own, or better than it would've been done by them.

Advice: Substitute interdependence that's based on satisfying others with assertiveness and strength. Let it go, let the universe take care of it. You healed the past scars enough, you're ready to let love inside your life again.

Songs: Lalala by Y2K, bbno$ | Numb to the feeling by Chase Atlantic | Pretty When You Cry by Lana Del Rey

Pile III.

The beginning is born from the ending, there's no ending without beginning etc etc. This pile is giving me strong... Homewrecker vibes, sorry dude but i'm being honest... You're seen as someone hot-headed, someone who rushes into things, who makes connections easily, but you brought some destruction into someone's life. Maybe meeting you changed this person's whole core belief system? They started questioning what they know, which brought them pain and confusion in many ways, which I see by 10 of swords here... But as I said at the start of this pile, for a new chapter something has to end. (Homewrecker by Marina has started playing girl what you doing...😭) Anyways, you seem as someone balancing energies, you change people's perspectives on life itself, your presence is strong and you know what you want and you get it.

I wanted to know more about this pile and started tossing some cards, and two flew out right onto my floor... Nah girl you bring new beginnings where ever you go, but you're very generous, or like people to be generous with you... Have you ever been interested in sugar baby type of relationships? I'm not judging, good for you go get that bag ✨

Advice: Your unique characteristics are the most important part of you getting what you want in life. Don't compare yourself to others, focus on your progress and how far you've come. Make new healthy relationships, a support group that will resonate with you.

Songs: Supermassive Black Hole by Muse | You Right by Doja Cat, The Weeknd | Homewrecker by Marina

[foolisheval]

DRABBLE - men who overstimulate

MDNI! sexual content ahead!

✻ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. men who like to overstimulate— whether that be by accident or intentional (Scaramouche, Xiao, Tartaglia)

✻ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. overstimulation, bratty! afab! Reader, creampie, praising, implied unbalanced power dynamics (Scaramouche), choking (Scaramouche), degradation (Scaramouche) Switch! Xiao and Fatui! Scaramouche (he drives me crazy)

didnt proofread and slightly slacked off with Ajax’s part. Mb gang

BALLADEER

The Balladeer? He's reckless when he's fucking you. He's all raw energy and unbridled passion, like a storm of thunder you can't control but can only surrender to. When the Balladeer's hands are on you, it's electric. Every touch sends shockwaves through you (quite literally) and every kiss feels hungry. As if he's trying to devour you whole.

Scaramouche will fuck you for hours if you ever dare to mouth off so don’t even think he’ll look past disorderly behavior. You’re his cute little subordinate after all. If his hands aren't firmly gripping your waist, then one of them is surely between your legs, his fingers working their magic with the kind of precision that only he seems to possess. Two fingers press into you, curling upward with perfect intent when they find that sensitive, gummy spot inside of you— the one that makes your knees tremble and threatens to steal the strength from your legs. Scaramouche’s other hand is no less active, the broad expanse of his palm pressing teasingly against your lower stomach. It's not just to make you feel more; it's to ensure you're at his mercy, unable to shift or chase after the rhythm he sets. He gives you only what he decides you’re allowed to have. And today, despite his day being ruined by your relentless teasing, he’s feeling unusually generous… perhaps even a bit too generous with the way he’s been overstimulating you.

You've always loved Scaramouche’s hands. You love the way they feel, the way they claim every part of you they touch, and especially the way his palm grinds against your clit when he slips a third finger inside. It's a delicious stretch, one that pulls wanton moans from your lips before you can even think to stifle them. It’s all too much. All too fast and too rough! But, god, you can’t get enough.

When frustration has been building up in him for far too long— he lets it show in the roughness of his words and touch.

That's when you feel his hand slide up to your neck, wrapping around your throat with a firm yet deliberate grip. “Fucking slut, huh? Yeah? You asked for this.”

XIAO

Xiao, who finally has enough of your teasing, your denial of the orgasm he was chasing and your constant mouthing off. He is so frustrated and annoyed that he flips the both of you over just so he can fuck you at the pace he's been aching for this entire night.

It takes you by surprise because the change is so sharp, as if a flip has switched. One second you're lazily riding the man, holding him down and bathing in his moans and whines for more. Denying him as often as your heart desires because you thought he'd let you.

And now you're beneath him, desperately gripping the sheets to try and find purchase as he fucks so hard and so fast that you're about to pass out. You've never been so full of him and still so hungry for more at the same time now that he's hitting spots inside of you that you didn't know existed in the first place.

Xiao holds you by your lifted hips, fucking himself into you like it would make up for the amounts of ruined orgasms you've brought him. And he does it so easily, handling you around like a doll made for his desires. "You’re impossible to handle,” He groans, the drag and pull of his fat cock rendering you speechless.

He knows you deserve the meanest of treatments. It would be just fair to almost drive you over the edge just to ruin every ounce of release once you're actually about to finish. Maybe he should've fucked your throat instead so he wouldn't have to deal with your attitude. Even now, all you do is complain and whine between broken moans and gasps for more. But, god, you feel too good, too warm and way too tight. The face you're making is motivation enough to keep on fucking you even after you've come.

Xiao rubs your clit, gifts you another orgasm, but he never slows his pace. And although Xiao fucks like he owns you, even he is moaning like a bitch when he empties his balls into you.

TARTAGLIA

There's nothing Ajax likes better than seeing your stupid colorful socks dangling over his shoulders as he fucks his fat cock into your gushing pussy. Your nails dig into his biceps, whining for him, telling him that it's too much but not pushing him away as he pounds you harder.

"A-Ajax!" Your eyes roll back whenever he hits that special spot inside of you, but Ajax isn't stopping until he's sure your pussy is filled to the brim. You're so close to drooling all over your chin, moaning his name over and over just to spur him on a little.

Ajax isn't exactly known to be a patient man, but he'll make an exception for you. Fucking you senseless is an art he's more than willing to practice over and over again until he's mastered it. It doesn't matter whether his balls are coated in your slick, or you babble incoherent sentences about how big he is, about how full you feel.

He knows he did a great job fucking you when he finally empties his balls into you and you gush around him like you've never before.

"you look-- s-shit! look so pretty like this. Pussy feels so fuckin' good, so fuckin' wet. Am I making you feel good, baby? C’mon, talk to me."

[lidiasloca]

hello!! I was wondering if you could write an azriel x reader fic where they've been best friends for centuries and one day the bond snapped for her. And she starts to avoid him because she thinks he doesn't love her so she doesn't show up to things they usually do together and whatnot (or however you want to put it!) but meanwhile Azriel is going crazy because he misses her and has been in love with her for years and then he confronts her and the bond snaps for him as well!! sorry if it's too long hahah but thanks

is it chill that you are in my head?

azriel x reader

friends to lovers

It was curious to think that no matter the strength you applied, no hit you made would ever hurt Azriel.

Yet, the Illyrian seemed intensely determined not to let you get to even touch him.

“Where’s your mind?” he asked as he dodged yet another hit. You took, at least, a bit of pride in his breathless voice.

You also took pride in how much you had made him sweat already, but you didn’t let your thoughts linger there too much—your eyes, neither.

“In trying to hit you.”

“Well, isn’t it frustrating you won’t satisfy your mind?”

“You get cocky—I’ll hit you down there,” you threatened, taking in his amused grin.

“There you can get?” he questioned as he circled you.

You held your fists up, following his eyes as he eyed you like a vulture. “You don’t want to find out.”

“I don’t,” he replied, just as you went to hit him.

He dodged it effortlessly.

And even had time, as you retracted your arm, to take it and pull you toward him, unbalancing you until you fell onto his torso.

As he prevented you from the fall he himself had caused, you found yourself close enough to his body to make out the intention written on his face.

A threat for a threat, you realized as you stared at those deep hazel eyes.

His face lacked any sympathy as he spoke, his voice death and sensuality all in the same honeyed spoon. “Don’t make threats you cannot back up, love.”

Your breath caught at the darkness that surrounded you. The darkness that you faced when you had his lips so close to yours, his eyes so focused on you.

Azriel was that: darkness. Both the dark that scared you as a child and the dark that now let you dream of him without guilt in the depths of the night.

“You’re right. No more threats,” you breathed as you drove your knee upward—

His hand was steel against the futile force of your movement. And a mocking grin on his lips was all you could think about due to the roaring in your ears.

Bastard.

The knee you were going to use to teach him a lesson was held in place with his right hand, which now moved down, and down until it found a place on the back of your thigh. He urged you nearer him.

Close enough. Until your surroundings vanished and you could only see his face, his never-faltering smirk when you made it so easy for him to mock you.

This was the Azriel you had only for yourself.

Not polite shyness, or quiet kindness.

But darkness.

All of it—all of him. Darkness.

Everything, but his eyes.

While you liked to have this flirtatious, dangerous Azriel—which you both called friendship—you still found yourself fantasizing about the light in his eyes and how soft they were, how romantic and intimate, and everything that he shouldn’t feel like.

Where all of him was dark, his eyes were golden.

Lightness.

Like a thread that led you through deeper parts of him, of his soul.

Too intimate.

You let out a long exhale. “I’m not in the mood,” you mumbled.

And it broke your heart the way he immediately released you. How gently he let go of you as a flash of… pain painted his eyes.

Then it was gone in a blink. And that smirk found its way to his face again. “I make you exhausted quite fast.”

“Mhmm,” was all you could mutter as you watched him—those eyes.

That thread.

What was that?

He held your stare with a bit of confused amusement. “What do you find so interesting?” he smiled.

You took all your bravery… and a step, and another, until you were back where you started: looking deep into his eyes, close enough to feel his breath on your face.

He didn’t dodge this time. And neither did he smirk as you placed both of your hands on his face to make him meet your eyes.

Those golden eyes.

There was something in them.

That lightness that guided you through the darkness—his darkness.

As a thread.

A gasp broke through you at the realization, at the feeling in your heart—your soul.

You took a step back, your hands sliding away from his face as gently as a wind’s whisper.

He eyed you worriedly, taking a step toward you as you kept walking away.

“What?” he asked, finally that mask off his face.

But you couldn’t bear the sight of his eyes again. The feel of that thread.

M-

“What is it?” he asked, desperation lacing his words.

Ma…

“Y/N?” he pleaded.

Mate.

You winnowed away before he could pronounce another word.

…

You knew hiding was not the solution. You knew you would have to face him eventually—he was one of your closest friends after all, yet…

“I cannot do it. I cannot see him.”

Another of your closest friends was there to make you think logically.

“Y/N,” Nesta said, taking a seat on the couch in your bedroom. “You’ve been hiding here for almost a month. You can’t hide from him forever. He’s your—”

“Don’t say it,” you cut in, despite how stupidly childish it made you sound.

Nesta exhaled as if indeed, you were acting stupidly childish. “Mate? You cannot hear the word mate?”

There was a tinge of mocking in her tone that made you meet her eyes with fury in yours. “It’s very easy to look at me and judge me when you don’t know what this feels like.”

“What? Having an Illyrian as my mate?” she asked with a soft smile on her lips, and you knew your friend well—you knew it wasn’t mocking anymore.

Nesta, as if to prove you right, walked toward where you sat on the bed and made herself a place next to you, moving her hand to caress yours like a mother would.

She didn’t say anything, though, so you replied, emotion running your words slowly—unsteady. “You don’t know what it’s like to know your mate… doesn’t want you back.”

“You don’t know if Azriel doesn’t want you back.”

“Yes, I do. I know Azriel.”

“Well, I know him as well. And I know—actually—all the house, and probably all Velaris, knows he likes you. A lot.”

You shook your head.

Nesta went on, “He flirts with you all the time, Y/N. In all honesty, it was about damned time that bond snapped for one of you. It was clear you had something.”

“Exactly: something,” you rectified. “That something, Nesta, is flirting. Flir-ting. Nothing more, nothing else. That’s all he wants from me. Taunting and touching and provoking and friendship. But not love. And most certainly, not a damn mating bond.” You took a staggered breath, not able to meet her eyes anymore. “Not with me.”

Nesta watched you silently, then said, “You don’t know that.”

You shook your head, wiping a tear that slid down your face. “You don’t know either.”

“That’s true,” she replied, handing you a tissue with her free hand as the other drew circles on your wrist. “We won’t know until you ask him.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “So, I just ask him if he wants the mating bond with me? That simple? Thanks, Nesta.”

Her eyes narrowed at you in warning to watch your tone, yet her faint smirk provoked one to bloom on your face. “Yes. It’s that simple.”

“And when he says no?”

She shook her head. “What if he says no,” she corrected you.

Your smile grew just a bit. “What if he says no?” you echoed.

“Then I’ll beat his ass on the training ground. And have Cassian beat him afterward.”

You chuckled lightly, imagining the scene.

But the question appeared in your mind, and you took the courage to ask her.

“And what if he says yes?”

By the warm look in her eyes, you knew she had understood. “It’s a long way to go. But one finally learns to let herself be loved, Y/N.”

And by one, you knew who she meant.

You were grateful that afterward, Nesta and you had a more lighthearted conversation. And when it turned dark outside, Nesta gave you a hug and left your bedroom.

You knew you had to also leave your bedroom at some point and face what awaited outside that comfort.

But love seemed to find you just where you thought you were safe.

“Can I come in?”

It certainly wasn’t Nesta’s voice.

Your hand trembled as you went for the knob and opened the door.

“Can I come in?” Azriel repeated, and you realized long seconds had passed of just you staring, unmoving.

“Yes,” you whispered, letting him through and closing the door.

You had prayed he stayed like that—backward to you, staring outside your window. Anything but have his eyes meet yours.

But he turned to you.

He was even more beautiful than ever, even if you couldn’t help but notice the dark circles around his eyes, his pale lips, or his eyes… almost lifeless.

Like the light had deserted him.

Like the bond had abandoned him… because he didn’t want it.

“It’s been weeks,” he eventually said, and his voice carried enough emotion you had to lean on the door, afraid to crumble to the ground. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“I’ve been busy.”

He took a step closer to you, making you meet his eyes again. “With what?” he demanded.

You weren’t fast enough to make up a lie before he said, “You’ve been avoiding me.” It wasn’t quite a question. “You are mad at me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” he muttered, taking another step.

“I’m not, Azriel.”

He stopped his following step at the sound of his name. He looked like he had been slapped, and his face morphed into something unreadable.

“I’m sorry," he murmured.

“What?” you asked, walking towards him when he looked down.

You had to see his face, you had to understand him.

“Whatever I have done. I’m sorry. Forgive me and… be my friend again.”

You stopped in your tracks, not having quite reached him. Friends.

His words both broke and healed your heart. The desperation in them, the vulnerability.

You stared at the selfless male who cherished your friendship in front of you. Maybe you could take that and give up dreaming. Maybe you could convince yourself that friendship was better than nothing, even if it killed you.

“I miss you,” he said, and you decided that was the final blow.

A sob broke through you, raw and desperate, and his expression shifted instantly. He closed the distanced and his hands found your face, those scarred palms trembling as they cupped your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “Don’t cry, please. I’m sorry.”

Friends.

Mates.

“What are you even sorry for?” you mumbled, shaking your head faintly.

“The last time I saw you - when you got… mad at me, we were doing what we always do. Well, what I always do. That stupid flirting, that… you know. And I know that bothered you. And I’m sorry. I never knew it made you uncomfortable before and… I’m sorry,” he said again. 

You quietly stared at him, at the sadness and guilt in his eyes. “It’s not that it bothers me...” you said because it never had, but maybe now—maybe now it hurt your feelings - but that was because of you. It was not his fault. 

Yet you couldn’t speak your thoughts before he went on. “It does. I saw it in your eyes… like you were disgusted.” His voice cracked. “And it broke my heart, because… I don’t want it either.”

There it was.

The truth you’d been bracing yourself for.

Friends.

That’s all he wanted you to be—a friend.

He took a deep breath, his hands falling away from your face as he stepped back, as if retreating from his own vulnerability. “It’s all a lie, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched.

“I thought that’s what you wanted—the only thing you wanted from me—and I tried to convince myself that I could settle with that. That it would be enough. But…” His gaze locked on yours, piercing and raw. “I can’t.”

“What?” you breathed, your voice barely audible.

“I love you, Y/N.”

The world stopped turning.

“I love you,” he repeated. “And I don’t want to keep pretending I’m okay with only being your friend. I don’t want to keep pretending. I just… I just want you to know that I’ve loved you for so long, I can’t remember what life was before you.”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think.

Mate.

“You love me?” you whispered.

He nodded as a tear ran down his face. 

Another sob tore from you and his hands were on your face again in an instant, pulling you close. “I love you, too,” you murmured, the words spilling out.

And at last, the color returned to his eyes again, hazel-golden shining in the dark room. 

And that was it; the light that you needed, the strength that guided you—that encouraged you to tell him. 

“I am… I am your mate.” 

A beat later you realized you weren’t the one who had spoken. 

-Charcaters by Sarah J Maas

azriel masterlist

a/n: thanks for requesting, i hope the fic is of your liking, though i took some liberties in the writing. thanks for your request, love!!

[javiscigarette]

Teacher's Pet, part II

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: Joel gives you a few more lessons and a few more feelings start to surface. (Picks up right where part one left off so I recommend reading that first!)

Warnings: unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, oral (m!receiving), fingering, thigh riding, dirty talk, ungodly amount of pet names, unprotected sex, virginity loss (it's the real deal this time), he's back and more annoying than ever but still just as sweet, disgustingly fluffy at times, reader has hair he can run his fingers through but no other physical descriptions, no use of y/n

w/c: ......10.5k I am so sorry

a/n: It's here! I kept changing my mind with how I wanted this to go so hopefully I landed on something good. I'm absolutely still blown away by the amount of love and support you guys gave on part one :'))) you are all incredible. Hoping and praying this one lives up to everyone's expectations

Part One

my masterlist

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me" he huffs, but the feigned offense  is betrayed by the way he’s positively beaming down at you.  "I'm about to give you the best fuckin' lay of your life, and here you are makin' fun of me." "The best fuckin' lay of my life? I haven’t even had one lay. Don't exactly have anything to compare it to." "Yeah, well, trust me. Best you're ever gonna get.” "That's some big talk, cowboy. Let's see if you can live up to that."

Getting on your knees for Joel Miller wasn’t exactly on your agenda for today. 

Not that you’re really complaining. 

He doesn’t look bad from this angle, you have to admit.  His chest looks broader from where you are on your knees in front of him, if that’s even possible. His hair is messy and tousled from where your fingers pulled and tugged with a pretty red flush spreading down his neck and chest, and the soft curve of his belly looking positively sinful. 

“First lesson is how to take a man’s pants off,” Joel starts. “Think you can handle that? Or do you need a demonstration first?” 

You scowl up at him, his words pulling you out of your transfixation on his body. 

“Shut up,” you hiss. “I can take your pants off.” 

He grins and raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah? Go on then. Show me.”

You roll your eyes but take a steadying breath, trying your best to calm your pounding pulse and trembling fingers as you reach up for his belt buckle. The metallic jingle has your heart fluttering in your chest, and you make quick work of the rest, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans until they’re hanging open in front of you.

You stop for a moment and glance up at him. He’s looking down at you, a soft encouraging smile playing on his lips. 

“S’okay, baby. Keep goin’,” he murmurs, nodding his head once. 

You give him a small nod and a tight swallow around the lump in your throat, dropping your gaze back to the task at hand. Gently, gingerly, you hook your fingers in the waistband of both his jeans and boxers, pulling them both down simultaneously. 

A tiny, barely audible gasp escapes you when his cock springs free and bobs heavily in front of you. 

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper, too stunned to stop the words from slipping out. 

“Just Joel if fine, actually.” 

You barely even register his jab and you definitely don’t have the bandwidth to come up with any kind of witty comeback right now, your mind too busy processing the sight before you. Sure, you’ve seen plenty of dicks before, the internet can be a magical place. But this, in person, up close and so real, is an entirely new experience. 

He's big, thick, heavy, and long with a slight upward curve. The tip is flushed a deep pink, shiny with smeared precome with more beading at the slit. A few thin veins run from his base to his tip up the length in a twisting pattern, the dark hair at his base neatly trimmed. And he’s hard, so much so that it looks nearly painful and your stomach flutters know that you're the one who did that to him.

"You can touch it, y'know." Joel says softly after a few moments of silence. "It ain't gonna bite."

"Oh my god" you groan, bringing up a hand to scrub down your face as he pulls you out of your awe. 

"Again, just Joel is fine."

He laughs proudly at his own joke and you drop your hands in your lap and stare up at him in disbelief. 

"Oh c'mon! You walked right into that one, no need to get all-"

He cuts himself off with a hiss, the air escaping between his teeth and his head falling back as your hand wraps around him, squeezing just a little too tight to be pleasant. He staggers half a step backward, hips jerking away from your grip.

"You were saying?'' you ask sweetly, grinning up at him.

"Fuckin' christ, woman. You're tryin' to get me off not break it off"

You loosen your grip a little but keep your hand still and look at him with expectant eyes, waiting for further instruction. It's not that you don't know what to do, you just don't know how to do it well. How to do it for him.

You want to do well for him.

The realization should alarm you, scare you even. But you find it only spurs you on, only makes the want burning inside of you even more potent and pressing. You want to make him moan, gasp, make his body writhe beneath your touch. You want him to be breathless, shivering, and panting with pleasure. You want to make him come undone, just like you did for him.

"Okay" he starts, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. "Lesson two is learning what he likes. Everyone's a lil different, but the basics are the same."

The nerves in your gut twist almost painfully, the anxiety of it all getting you half a second away from tapping out. 

But your decision is set in stone when he drops his hand to yours where it’s wrapped around him, giving a light squeeze before he starts to gently guide your movements. 

"Start slow,” he starts, a light strain tainting the edges of his voice. “Nice and gentle. Wanna work up to it."

You nod and watch, focused intently as if you were actually a student in class as the head of his cock disappears and reappears in your fist. His hand covers yours nearly entirely as he drags it up and down while you try and memorize where he squeezes a little tighter, when he swipes his thumb over the head. 

“Can give a little twist at the top,” he murmurs, voice low as he demonstrates what he means. “There you go, baby. Just like that,” he sighs when you do the same. 

Once satisfied, he removes his hand, letting you take control. You continue to pump him, trying to replicate the movements he just showed you. His cock is a warm, heavy weight in your hand, twitching and pulsing every now and then when you twist your wrist just right or swipe your thumb over his head like he showed you, collecting and spreading his precome to ease your strokes. 

Your confidence builds with each stroke and soon enough you start to experiment with your pace, switching between faster and slower. He gently rocks his hips in time with your hand, unable to resist thrusting forward just slightly.

The fire inside you burns even hotter at the shaky breath that he lets out above you, heat spreading through your veins like wildfire before settling low in your belly, your core aching and pulsing with it. 

"This good?" you ask concerned, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He lets out a breathless chuckle and looks down at you with heavy lidded eyes.

"Yeah, honey. Real good," he rasps, a small smile spreading across his lips.

You match his smile, biting your lip and basking in his praise, a warm, gooey feeling spreading outwards from your heart to the tips of your fingers and toes. It's like he has a direct link to the inner workings of your brain and body with how effortlessly he can make you melt, with just a soft, easy smile and a few well chosen words.

"Should I...do you want my mouth?" you ask, glancing between his flushed, leaking cock and his hooded eyes.

"God yes, baby. J-just start slow. Lick the tip, get a feel for it. Don't try to take too much right away," he instructs, his voice constricting more and more with each word. 

"So I shouldn't try to fit all of your giant cock in my mouth on my first go?" you quip, raising a brow.

"Please don't" he chuckles. "Don't want ya pukin’ all over the place. Might kill the mood," he adds with a grin.

You shake your head and let out a light laugh, the sound trailing off into a content hum when he brings his hand to the top of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, dull nails scratching lightly at your scalp.

"You're ridiculous," you sigh, leaning into the touch.

"You love it."

You do, so, so much.

"Now c'mon. You've got work to do," he teases, his hand gently tugging at your hair.

You comply easily enough, leaning forward and tenderly swiping your tongue across the slit, licking up the precome that's gathered there. He hisses, a rush of hair pushing past his clenched teeth as  his cock twitches in your hand, a fresh bead of precome forming. 

With your confidence renewed by his reaction, you do it again, pressing your tongue flat against the slit and swirling it slowly around his swollen tip all while your hand still works him at a steady pace. 

Emboldened, you take it a step further and close your lips around him, sealing them around the head to give him a slow, experimental suck. The groan he rewards you with has sparks shooting down the length of your spine.

"That's it. Good girl. Just like that," he pants, fingers tugging and tightening in your hair.

His praise washes over you in another wave of warmth, a feeling akin to a full-body shiver that has goosebumps breaking out over your skin. It strokes your ego, pride and confidence filling you as his soft moans and grunts fuel the fire burning in your belly.

Encouraged by the way he’s already falling apart, you take him a little deeper. It’s only a few inches but your lips are already stretched wide, a slight ache already settling in your jaw from how wide it's being forced open. 

You keep your tongue flat against the underside of his cock while you start to bob your head, trying to match the pace of your hand. But the motions are new and unfamiliar, your movements clumsy and uncoordinated and when he hits the roof of your mouth, your gag reflex kicks in forcing you to pull off quickly, coughing and sputtering.

"Easy. Easy," Joel soothes, his fingers scratching at your scalp again. "Try to breathe through your nose. And don't don't force it, yeah? Feels good, just the way you were doin' it."

"Sorry," you apologize sheepishly, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Ain't nothing to be sorry for. S’your first time. It takes practice. Now, c'mon. Try again. Nice and easy. And if this man tries to-"

But you're not in the mood for another Joel Miller Life Lesson, especially when he’s about to mention the other man who's name you can barely even remember anymore. 

Thankfully, his words dissolve into a groan when you take him back in your mouth, your lips wrapping around his sensitive head, tongue flat where it slowly glides down the underside of his cock as you take him deeper. 

The ache in your core is quickly growing more and more incessant. You can still feel the ghost of his fingers and tongue on you, your inner thighs wet and sticky with the memory. And the sinful sounds he’s making, whispered curses between breathy moans and grunts, are not exactly helping your case. 

You manage to take a little more, his thick cock stretching your mouth wider, forcing your jaw open even further. You gag slightly around him again but you’re determined to push through it this time. YOu squeeze your eyes shut and breathe in harshly through your nose as saliva dribbles past the tight seal of your mouth and drips onto your hand, your fist diligently pumping what you can't take.

He responds with a low, guttural groan, his hips jerking forward, chasing after the sensation of your throat convulsing around him. 

You're still only a little over halfway down and it's a quick realization that you'll never be able to get it all down your throat. Maybe you can try and practice, but it’s practically a pipe dream to even think about getting his whole cock into your throat without choking to death on it.

But that's a problem for another day. 

For the next time. 

For now, you hollow out your cheeks and suck as you pull back, tongue swirling along the underside until his cock leaves your mouth with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting your swollen, spit-slicked lips to his glistening tip. 

You use your hand to spread the wetness, mixing it with the precome that's leaking steadily from the flushed head. The smooth glide allows you to speed up your pace as you look up at him through your lashes, trying to gauge his reaction.

He's staring down at you with hazy, lust blown eyes, his jaw hanging open, panting heavily.

"How am I doing, Professor?" you tease with an innocent smile. A lazy grin slowly spreads on his face in return.

"You’re a fuckin’ natural, baby," he mumbles, his hand moving from where it's tangled in your hair to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the apple of your flushed cheek, "My good girl."

And maybe, most likely, the words slipped out unintentionally, the heat of the moment forcing out things that he doesn’t really mean. But all the alarms and sirens in your head warning yourself to not fall too deep into this trap that is Joel Miller with his pretty words and sweet praises and soft smiles are all dead silent right now. There’s not a single part of your brain that’s trying to resist him right now. You doubt you could even if you wanted to. 

Because he just called you his girl. 

His.

To say you’re fucked would be the understatement of the century. 

You hum, pressing your cheek into his palm, wanting, needing, craving more. More of his touch, his taste, his warmth, his cock, his praise. So you take him back in your mouth with a renewed determination, spurred on by his words, wanting to prove to him that he's right, that you are his good girl. Determined to show him that you can make him feel good, that you can please him, that he'll want more of you, need more of you.

And judging by the way his grip on your hair is almost painful, his thighs trembling as he holds himself still, fighting the urge to jerk his hips forward and shove his cock down your throat, you'd say you're doing a damn good job

"Makin’ me feel so good, baby. So fuckin' good," he pants when you take him a little deeper.

You whine quietly around him as you press your sticky thighs together. White hot heat pooling low in your belly, your neglected cunt throbbing and aching, slick, wet, and messy. 

You squirm in your spot, rubbing your thighs together and grinding down on nothing in desperate search for the slightest bit of friction. You pray that the movement is subtle enough for Joel not to notice. 

As if that’s possible.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Joel starts, his tone annoyingly saccharine and condescending as he smirks down at you. “Did we forget somethin’ important?” 

Another small whimper is all you can muster, too focused and preoccupied with the way his thick length is filling your mouth, the weight and taste of him on your tongue dizzying and addicting. 

“Well look at that,” he coos, his hand leaving your hair and sliding down your cheek to cradle your  jaw. He swipes swiping over your bottom lip that’s stretched around his length, smearing the spit that’s gathered there.

“Think I finally found a way to shut ya up. We should’a done this a long time ago. Woulda saved me a lot of headaches,” he chuckles, the sound dissolving into a sharp hiss when you dig your nails into the tender skin of the back of his thigh, hard enough to leave a mark.

You pull off his cock with a wet pop, jaw aching as you glare up at him. 

"I'd shut up if I were you" you warn, the threat of your words completely lost in the breathless, desperate way they leave your mouth. "Just one good chomp is all it would take" you add, clicking your teeth together for emphasis.

But Joel's face just splits into a grin, a full blown, infuriating smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. 

"Biting huh? Now that’s a little kinky. Didn't know you had it in you, sweetheart."

"Shut up," you snap, but it still lacks any real heat, not with the way your lips are twitching at the corners, fighting a smile, your eyes undoubtedly sparkling, your heart definitely leaping out of your chest at the way his eyes are boring into yours.

"Careful, sweetheart. Might have to knock you down a whole letter grade for that type of talk. Gotta respect your professor ‘n all, y’know."

"You're insufferable," you grumble.

"But yet, here you are, still on your knees."

"And I'm gonna get up and leave if you don't stop talking."

"Leave before or after you chomp my dick off? Cause I'd really like a heads up for that, if ya could."

"Jesus fucking christ, Joel!" You huff, rolling your eyes so hard it actually hurts. "Do you ever just shut the fuck up? I'm literally on my knees right now with your dick in my mouth and you're still finding ways to piss me off!"

“What can I say? It’s a special talent of mine,” he says with a nonchalant shrug, the smug smile on his face making you want to genuinely bite his dick off now.

You drop the wet hand you had wrapped around him and start to move to your feet.

"You know what, I'm just gonna go. Maybe I'll call my coworker. He's not nearly as irritating as you," you huff, pushing yourself up onto shaky legs, your knees stiff and sore. 

But you can't even take one step before he's grabbing your waist, his large, warm palm resting firmly on the swell of your hip. His fingers flex, his grip tightening, not enough to hurt, but it's enough to halt you in your tracks. You're not particularly fond of the way your heart skips a beat in your chest, the way you can feel goosebumps breaking out all over your body from just his touch. 

He pulls you in closer until your chest is pressed against his, hard, wet cock pressed against your bare thigh.

"You really think you’re gonna leave with your pussy drippin' all over the place like that?” he says, his voice seamlessly switching from teasing to low and rough as his dark, hungry eyes bore into yours. “You're about to ruin my floors with the way you're leakin' right now, baby. Wouldn’t want that, now would we?” 

Your cheeks flame with embarrassment from how easily he was able to see your desperation, and with anger at how right he is. 

"Shut the fuck up, Joel," you mumble, giving him a weak push at his chest. "I'm not leaking I-"

The rest of your sentence stays lodged in your throat when his free hand slips between your thighs. Two deft fingers drag through the slick mess, collecting your arousal and spreading it around, a soft, wet, obscene sound filling the space between you. 

You don't even think to stop the high pitched, breathy whine from escaping your lips when he slides a thick finger inside you with no warning, your pathetic sound dissolving into a moan when he immediately follows it up with a second one, his palm pressed flat against your clit.

"Not leaking, hmm? Sure don't seem like it, baby," he purrs, his voice a low, rumbling drawl, his warm breath fanning across your cheek. "Feel that? How easy it was for me to get two fingers in ya?"

"Fuck," you whine as you dig your nails into the bare skin of his shoulder, hanging on to him and desperately searching for any semblance of stability as you try not to sway on shaky legs.

He crooks his fingers in you, fingertips digging into the spongy spot on your front wall that has your knees buckling, tiny stars dotting your vision momentarily as a rush of arousal gushes out of you, a pitiful whimper falling from your lips. Joel chuckles, low and dark and the sound shoots straight to your neglected clit, a bolt of lightning arcing down your spine.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he murmurs, nosing at the sensitive skin below your ear, the faint scrape of his beard against your cheek sending a shiver down your spine. 

The feeling of him removing his fingers is a cruel, sudden jolt, the emptiness and lack of pressure and friction has you keening, a needy, impatient noise bubbling up from your throat.

He's moving before you can complain though, stepping around you to sit on the edge of the bed and then promptly pulling you down onto his lap. You let out a small squeak of surprise as he forces you to straddle his thigh, pulling you down until your aching cunt is seated firmly against his bare skin. The position has his cock pressing against your hip, a drop of precome smearing against your skin.

"Fuckin' soaked for me, honey,” he drawls, his fingertips dimpling the soft skin of your hips. “And to think you were about to leave without gettin' what you came here for.” 

You can't even speak, too enraptured with the feeling of his strong muscles flexing subtly under your hypersensitive clit. So you ignore his teasing and just grind down instead, past the point of desperation. 

But he would never let you win that easily, would he? 

He laughs and tightens his grip on your hips, stopping your movement and holding you in place.

"Ah-ah, not so fast, baby. Let's talk about the terms first."

You give him the best glare you can muster while suppressing a needy whimper. 

"Terms?"

"Yeah. Terms. Of all this. Like if this is a one time thing, or if we're gonna be havin' regular...lessons," he replies, his hands slowly sliding up your waist and coming to rest on your ribs, his thumbs stroking the undersides of your breasts. 

"If you're gonna go out with this guy," he continues, his thumbs brushing over both of your nipples. "Or if I'm the only one who's gonna get to see this," he says, leaning forward, his warm breath fanning over your skin. You bite your lip, holding in the soft, needy moan threatening to spill out when his lips press to the hollow of your throat.

"If I'm the only one who gets to have you like this. If I'm the only one who's allowed to touch you. To kiss you," he says, punctuating his last word with a kiss to the center of your chest, his hands squeezing the swell of your breasts, his tongue flicking out and licking at your nipple.

"Or do you plan on letting him have you too?" He asks, the tip of his tongue swirling around your nipple before closing his lips around the pebbled peak, sucking it into his mouth, his teeth lightly grazing it before he pulls back. "'Cause I'm not too keen on sharin', baby."

You take a deep steadying breath, trying to clear the thick haze that's clouding your mind and focus on his words, his questions about the fucking terms. 

And you do think about it, about your coworker who's been nothing but so sweet to you, who doesn't get on your nerves in under a millisecond. The coworker, Micheal, you think, his name finally returning to you, who doesn't tease you and play games and leave you a panting, needy, dripping mess. 

And while he is really such a perfect gentleman, he isn’t the one that’s been there for you, listening to you complain about all the shitty things that have happened to you in the last year. He isn’t the man that lets you use him as a punching bag whenever you’re frustrated, has never been the calm, reasonable voice that challenges the anxiety that overwhelms you and threatens to pull you under. 

Michael has never held you when you've cried, never helped you cook dinner after a hard day at work, never fixed the flickering light in your bathroom. He certainly has never dropped a key to his front door in your palm accompanied by a lopsided smile and the words just in case ya need anything. 

Michael isn’t the one who’s been the one to pick up your pieces and put you back together, so gently and tenderly, making you even better than you were before.

It's useless, trying to avoid it. Trying to push it down, bury it, ignore it, how you've been feeling and what you want. 

It’s Joel.

All of it. 

You want Joel. 

All of him. 

You've wanted him since the day you showed up on his porch with a six pack. You've wanted him all those times you watched from a distance as he fixed something in your house, so capable and competent, casually waving away your slew of thank yous. You wanted him every single time he invited you over for a movie night, sitting close enough to you on his couch that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. You wanted him every time he made your blood boil and your eyes roll so hard you swore you could see the back of your brain, and every time you genuinely thought you were going to smack him. 

And now, you have him.

Right here, naked and hard and underneath you, your pussy leaking on his thigh. 

The answer is so painfully obvious, the words falling from your lips before you even have a chance to process them.

"M'not gonna see him," you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Want this. Want you."

Joel hums, indicating that he heard you. But again, he would never let you win that easily. 

"Speak up, baby," Joel says, releasing your nipple with a soft pop, his eyes dark and intense, a predatory, feral glint in them. "Can't hear you."

And it's infuriating and annoying, absolutely maddening. And it's the last straw.

You're not sure if it's the frustration, or the pent up desire, or the heat burning inside you, or the fact that Joel's still hard, and still leaking precum against your hip, as your cunt slides against his thigh, but you break.

You absolutely shatter.

"I want you!" you practically shout, hands balling into fists where they're resting on his shoulders. 

"You, okay? You! You and your stupid, fucking, annoying ass, and your dumbass pickup truck, and your stupid, charming grin, and the way you always call me 'baby', and 'honey', and 'sweetheart'. It drives me fucking insane!  And the way you're always fixing shit, and being so fucking helpful and sweet and you always, always make me laugh, and smile, and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by in the past year that I didn’t think about you and I can’t get you out of my fucking head, not even for a single fucking second.” 

The words spill from your lips in a breathless tirade, and it feels good, freeing. It's like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, like a great burden has been taken off of you. 

But the feeling doesn't last long.

Silence stretches between you and it's suffocating, oppressive, and you feel like the walls are closing in on you, panic rising in your chest.

Your cheeks burn, nauseating embarrassment and humiliation coursing through you as you realize the full weight of what you just word-vomited all over him. Your chest heaves, and you hang your head, unable to bring yourself to look at him.

But then, a bright laugh sounds through the otherwise quiet room. And your eyes snap to Joel's face, only to find him smiling.

He's fucking laughing.

"Joel!" you scold, a mixture of mortification and confusion washing over you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he placates, but the laughter in his voice doesn't help to ease your nerves. "I didn't mean to laugh, it's just...I just can't believe how dense you are."

The daggers you shoot at him are truly deadly. 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Do you think I just go around callin' everyone 'baby' and 'sweetheart'?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"I..." you stammer, trailing off as his words sink in. 

"I mean, my southern charm is one thing,” he says, obnoxiously wiggling his eyebrows. “But you’re seriously thick if  you think I'm like this with anyone else.” 

You stare blankly at him, trying to process what he’s saying. 

“Do you think I let all the neighbors just use me for free handy work, think I cook dinner with all of them, think I keep a stash of everyone’s favorite snacks in my pantry, give everyone a fuckin’ key to my front door? And you think I just go around agreeing to sex lessons to anyone who asks?” He rambles, squeezing your hip. 

Your brain is reeling as you try to wrap your head around everything. 

"Well...no” you stammer, your brows pinching together.  “But…"

"How many other girls you seen me bringin' home? Huh? How many other girls you see me with?"

"None" you admit sheepishly.

"Mhm. Because I don't. Not since you moved in next door."

You frown, confusion clouding your features. You open your mouth to speak but Joel cuts you off.

"I like you, baby," he admits with a sigh. "A lot. Maybe too much. But I wasn't about to lose you as a friend just because I'm crazy about you. And if being your friend is the only way I can be close to you, then I'd take it and die a happy man."

You can only stare at him, the words he just spoke bouncing around in your brain, and a warmth blooms in your chest, your heart fluttering wildly in your ribcage.

"Are you kidding me?!" You exclaim suddenly, hitting his shoulder.

"Hey! Ow!" he barks, his eyes widening as he grabs his shoulder. "The fuck was that for?!"

"You've been trying to sleep with me for a whole year?!"

"I wouldn’t say trying," he says with a casual shrug. "Just waiting. Wanted you to take the lead but you’re a little stubborn, baby."

You scoff, glaring at him, not missing the way his lips twitch at the corners, the way his eyes sparkle with amusement.

"So, the reason why I haven't been able to catch a break the entire time we've known each other, has been because you've been trying to get in my pants? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Well, that part is just natural. You're just too easy to get riled up. And that’s not my fault."

You open your mouth to argue with him but his sliding over your hips to palm at your ass and his lips are ghosting over the shell of your ear, his beard scraping against the sensitive skin.

"But no, I can't deny that I like it," he rasps, his breath warm against the side of your neck. "The way you get all fired up and angry, your face all flushed, your chest heaving. Mmm, it's nice. You look real pretty when you're all worked up and pissed off," he whispers, his lips curled in a smile when he presses a kiss to the spot below your ear before pulling back to look at you. 

"Why didn't you tell me,” you say, voice softer now, the rough edges of your tone smoothed out by the feeling of his lips on your skin.

"Didn't want to make it weird. Didn't want you to think I was some creepy old man and ruin our friendship" he explains with a small shrug. "But then you came over here tonight askin’ for a sex lesson, which was not easy by the way, acting like I wasn't already about to burst outta my pants as soon as you asked. Thought for sure you were onto me. But then you started going on about that douche canoe Michael-"

"Joel."

"And then I got jealous and pissed, and figured it was time to cut my losses and just enjoy it while I can, but-"

"Joel."

"Then we were kissing and you were touchin’ me and you're so fucking sexy and-"

"Joel!"

"What?"

"Just kiss me, you idiot" you breathe, and before the words are even fully out of your mouth, his lips are on yours, crashing into you with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs.

It’s bruising, searing, all consuming.

His fingers dig into the meat of your ass as he pulls you forward, the seam of your pussy dragging deliciously against the strong muscles under warm skin. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, and tug, the base of your spine tingling when he groans softly into your mouth, and you grind your hips against his, the wet heat of your cunt grinding into his thigh, pulling another soft, low sound from his throat.

"Fuck" he groans, pulling away just far enough to press his forehead to yours, his breath coming in quick, sharp pants, his chest heaving. "Baby, are you still okay with this?" he breathes, voice ragged and gravelly.

You look at him as if he's grown a second head.

"Are you serious?"

""I...well, I was serious when I said I'd be fine with being your friend, and I don't want you to think I'm tryna pressure you into anything."

You can't help but roll your eyes, the soft, endearing side of Joel coming out at the worst possible time.

"I literally just admitted that I've had a crush on you for months, and now I'm sitting on your lap, soaked, and grinding on your thigh and you're worried I don't want this? I think you might be the dense one here."

He grins, wicked and wide, a flash of sharp teeth, the dimple in his cheek deepening.

"Guess so," he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

You don't respond, and instead choose to silence him by pulling him into a kiss, licking at the seam of his lips and sucking his tongue into your mouth. He groans softly into your mouth, and you swallow the noise, rolling your hips again, chasing the sweet friction that's sending a delicious heat through your veins.

"God, baby," he breathes when he pulls back for air, hands on your ass gripping and guiding you against his leg, encouraging your movements. "Makin' such a mess, ain't ya?"

You bite your lip, nodding as a wave of arousal surges through you.

"Yeah, you are. Soakin' my leg, sweet girl," he says, his eyes flicking down between you, watching as your pussy drags along his thigh, coating him in a shiny, slippery sheen.

"Fuck, Joel, please" you whine, your hips jerking and rolling against him.

And that's all the encouragement he needs.

In the blink of an eye, you're on your back, Joel hovering above you, a wild look in his eyes.

"Don't worry, baby," he says, his voice low and husky, and he trails his fingers over your hip and up your ribs, his touch light, teasing, barely ghosting across your skin and it's almost ticklish, making you shiver. "M'gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good."

Your heart thunders in your chest, and your cunt throbs, your arousal leaking out of you. It feels like you’re about to crawl out of your own skin, the desperation growing with every passing second. 

He trails his fingers down your sternum, and over the flat expanse of your stomach, goosebumps breaking out across your skin in his wake, the muscles under your skin rippling and twitching at the soft, fleeting touches.

And when he reaches the crease of your thigh, you let out a shaky, trembling breath, and he chuckles softly, his lips curling into a crooked grin.

"Eager, are we?" he teases, dragging his fingers over the slick flesh between your legs, gathering the wetness pooled there before slowly sliding a single thick digit inside you. "We're gonna get there, baby. But gotta make sure you're ready first. Don't wanna hurt you.”

You whimper, your walls fluttering and clenching around his finger, and your hips roll forward, seeking friction, wanting, needing more.

Joel curses under his breath and groans softly when your wet, warm walls constrict around his finger. His cock leaks and twitches where it’s pressed against your thigh, and you whimper, both of you caught up in an endless cycle of keying each other up. 

"Please, Joel" you beg, and the words come out soft, pleading, and desperate. You should probably be embarrassed at how quickly he's reduced you to a begging, quivering mess, but the way his eyes go dark, and his pupils blow wide, makes the embarrassment worth it.

"Please, what, baby?” He prods with a devilish smirk. “Use your words"

"You're such an asshole" you snap, but the venom in your voice is diluted with pleasure as he slips another finger inside you.

"You keep saying that. What d’ya want me to do about it, sweetheart? You want me to stop?" he taunts. 

"No!" you cry out, reaching down and grabbing his wrist with an iron grip when he starts to pull out. 

"Then tell me what you want, honey."

"Fuck you,” you mumble weakly. 

"Mhm. Okay, honey" he drawls,  his thumb moving  to circle around your clit as his fingers curl inside you, still pumping in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. . "I'll just wait then. Take my time. Tease your pretty little pussy until you can't stand it. I'm in no hurry, baby. Gonna take all night, if that's what it takes. I've waited this long."

"Joel, please" you whine again, the ache between your thighs turning to an unbearable burn.

"Tell me what you want,” he repeats casually. 

"You," you try with a needy whimper.

"Me? You got me, sweetheart. What else?"

“Oh my fucking god can you please just fuck me? Or do I have to spell it out for you, old man?"

"There she is," Joel says with a laugh, his grin splitting his face "There's my girl"

And then his fingers are gone and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. But before you can protest much more,, they're sliding back in, this time joined by a third.

Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping him, nails digging into the soft flesh of his muscles.

"Oh fuck" you pant, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he starts pumping his fingers again. 

"Gotta get ya ready, baby" he breathes, and his lips are ghosting along your jawline and up the shell of your ear, his breath warm.  "Such a tight little pussy, but we'll get you nice and open, don’t worry.  Then I'm gonna sink in ya, fill you up real nice. Take real good care of you, baby. Fuck you nice and deep, make you forget your name. Would you like that? Hmm?"

A strangled moan is all you can manage in response. His words, filthier and more deranged than any you've ever heard him speak before, sending your brain into overdrive. 

You can’t help but roll your hips, and bucking, and gyrating, meeting his thrusts as his fingers pump in and out of you, the lewd, wet, sloppy sounds filling the otherwise quiet room, and the coil in your gut is threatening to snap.

"Joel, Joel, fuck, oh fuck" you chant, your hazy and thick with pure arousal. It drips down your spine and flows through your veins, liquid heat burning, searing, and  scorching you from the inside out. 

You manage to open your eyes long enough to look down and see the tendons flexing in his wrist, the muscles and veins in his forearm bulging as he works you, his face brows pinched in concentration as he focuses on your reactions. 

"Oh shit, honey," Joel curses breathlessly, a smug grin stretching across his lips as he feels your slick pooling in his palm. “So messy, baby. You gonna cum? Hmm? Gonna be a good girl and lemme feel your sweet little cunt clench and drip even more around my fingers?"

You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows as he thrusts his fingers into you, the heel of his palm rubbing deliciously against your clit. Your fingers scrabble for purchase, desperately seeking something, anything, to ground yourself. You settle for the firm muscle of his arms, your nails biting into his skin and leaving bright red marks that'll undoubtedly leave little half-moon bruises later

"Fuck, yeah, c’mon, sweetheart, lemme feel. Give it to me."

You come with a cry, the dam breaking, the tension in your gut exploding outward, a wave of euphoria crashing over you, washing through every inch of your body. Your legs tremble and shake, and Joel works you through it, his fingertips nudging that spongy spot inside you, dragging his thumb across your throbbing clit, milking you through the aftershocks, and when you start to come down, you're panting and breathless, your chest heaving.

You look up at Joel, and his eyes are blown wide, the deep, rich brown of his irises nothing more than a thin, dark ring around his dilated pupils. There are no words, at least none that you can manage to articulate at the moment, so instead you let out a breathless laugh, and a contented hum, a smile spreading across your lips.

Joel grins, laughing, and he leans down to capture your lips in a chaste kiss.

"Good girl" he breathes against your mouth, his words a low, rough rumble that has you keening. "That feel good, baby?"

"Fuck, yeah" you sigh, melting into the matress. 

"Good,” he says before pressing a kiss to your forehead then pulling back to look you in the eyes again. “ Think you're ready for me now?"

“Mhm,” you murmur with a lazy nod. “Want you, Joel.” 

Joel laughs, the sound sweeter than it’s ever sounded before.. "You've got me, sweetheart. You've had me. Always will."

"That's awfully fucking sappy," you tease breathlessly, threading your fingers into his soft dark hair. 

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me" he huffs, but the feigned offense is  betrayed by the way he’s positively beaming down at you.  "I'm about to give you the best fuckin' lay of your life, and here you are makin' fun of me."

"The best fuckin' lay of my life? I haven’t even had one lay. Don't exactly have anything to compare it to."

"Yeah, well, trust me. Best you're ever gonna get.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, raising a brow at him. 

"That’s some big talk, cowboy. Let's see if you can live up to that."

Joel barks out a laugh, the sound coming out more like a snarl, his eyes flashing with something feral, predatory, and dangerous at your challenge.

And then he’s abruptly pulling his fingers from you then  bringing them up to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the slick coating his fingers. The sight nearly puts you into cardiac arrest.

"So fuckin' sweet" he murmurs, his eyes slipping closed momentarily, and a low, satisfied hum rumbles in his chest. It's downright obscene, the way his lips wrap around his fingers, how he licks and sucks, cleaning your arousal off of them. 

"Joel," you breathe, your voice nothing more than a shaky exhale.

His eyes snap open, and he gives you a lopsided smirk. 

"Sorry, baby,” he starts, pulling his fingers from his mouth and wiping them on the blanket underneath you. “Can’t help myself. Just had to taste ya again. Gonna have a hard time not doing that every time,” he finishes with a sly smile. 

Every time. 

The words are like a shock of electricity shooting through your veins, setting your blood ablaze. Every time. As in multiple times. 

How the fuck is this real? 

He  stupid smirk is still glued to his face as he leans over to rummage around in the drawer of his nightstand. Your brows furrow when he pulls out a condom and goes to open it. 

"I...uh..." you start, but the words die in your throat.

"What's wrong?" Joel asks, his smug expression immediately morphing into one of concern.

"I...well...it's just, I'm- I'm on the pill… We can use a condom, but...it's not necessary…just wanted to put that out there. In case, you know…you didn't wanna use one. Since it's not...like, not entirely necessary,” you say quietly, casting your eyes down to where your fingers fiddle with the edge of the blanket. 

"Ahh, I see,” Joel responds, all too pleased. “You just want me to raw dog it, huh?” 

"Wha-no! Oh my god, Joel, you are so fucking embarrassing," you groan, covering your face with your hands. 

"S'okay, honey, don’t be embarrassed. It is all part of the full Joel Miller Experience anyway,” he reassures you with a sickeningly sweet tone.. 

"Oh my fucking god, I told you not to say that ever again,” you groan, shoving at his shoulder, which only makes him laugh. And you can feel yourself smiling too, despite how irked you are.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop," he relents, still laughing a little. "If you really don't want me to use one, I guess I can make an exception, just for you"

And it's as if he knows that you're about to lash out at him again, because he leans down and presses his lips to yours before you have a chance to say anything, all the fight in you draining away as soon as his mouth is on yours.

"You tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers when he pulls back. “Or if I do anything you're uncomfortable with, or if you just need a break. You let me know, okay?"

You nod.

"Promise?"

"I promise, Joel. Please just get on with it."

"Impatient" he breathes, but  kisses you again nonetheless, soft, slow, and tender. And when he pulls away, his eyes are searching yours like he's looking for any signs of hesitancy. But all he sees is the same raw desire reflected back in your wide, eager eyes. 

You see the exact moment that the last vestiges of his self-restraint disappear, his gaze growing darker and hungrier as he pushes himself up to sit back  on his knees, one  hand around the base of his cock, the other  on the inside of your thigh as he tenderly spreads you open and settles himself between your legs.

He teases you of course, dragging his length through your folds, letting the swollen, leaking tip catch on your clit before sliding back down to nudge at your entrance. You whimper, and try to grind against him, but his hand is firm, holding your hip still, not allowing you any friction.

He hushes you softly, his thumb gently stroking the soft, delicate skin where your hip meets your thigh. "Just let me do what I need to do, baby. Let me take care of you.” 

"You're evil," you whine, squirming underneath him.

"Yeah, well, that's a matter of opinion" he grunts, your breath hitching when he lines himself up and finally, finally pushes the blunt tip of his cock inside you.

Your lips part on a gasp, the feeling of his thick head stretching you open, the slight burn of the intrusion, a mixture of aching and pure pleasure. And you can feel his eyes practically burning holes in your skin, drinking in every little reaction, every flutter of your lashes, every twitch of your brow.

"How's that?" he asks, his voice tight and strained. He looks just as wrecked as you feel, his jaw tight, a sheen of sweat already on his brow, the muscles in his forearms bulging with the effort of restraining himself.

"More," is all you manage to rasp out, pushing your hips up, trying to get him to sink deeper.

Joel grunts, and then obliges, his eyes screwed shut in concentration as he tries to feed you only a little more of his considerable length. You can see him chewing on his lip, his nostrils flaring, a slight tremble in his thighs, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Jesus fuck, you're tight" he grits out, his chest heaving as he tries to regain some of his composure. "I-I didn't…fuck, I didn't think- shit. God fuckin' damn, baby"

You smile a little, the corners of your lips curling upwards. It's the first time you've ever seen him truly at a loss for words, and it's a very welcome change. 

You reach up and card your fingers through his hair, his eyes fluttering closed, a sweet sigh escaping his lips at the feeling.

"I can take more," you say softly.

Joel shakes his head, his brow furrowed. "Not yet."

But you don't listen. Not that you ever really listen to him. 

Your impatience gets the best of you and you push yourself further down the bed, forcing another inch of his cock inside you, your walls fluttering wildly around him as you let out a low moan. 

"Ah fuck, honey," he groans, his eyes flying open.

"C'mon, Joel. More. Please," you beg, grinding down on his cock, taking just a little bit more with each roll of your hips until his fingers dig into your hips so hard, you're sure they'll leave bruises.

"Baby stop fuckin' movin'" he hisses, his grip tightening even further. "Please."

You can hear the strain in his voice, and you can feel him trembling above you, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing and tensing.

"Why not?" you pout.

"Cause m'tryin' not to fuckin' come right now, alright?" he grunts, his teeth gritted. "So please, just stop. For a minute."

"You can't possibly be serious," you breathe, a smile creeping on your face again. "You're not even all the way in yet."

He glares down at you, his eyes narrowing. "Not my fault you're fuckin' tight as shit. It's like your cunt is tryin' to strangle me."

You giggle a little, the sound coming out breathy and light. You don't miss the way Joel's cock twitches at the sound.

"You're being so dramatic," you sigh, rolling your hips again.

"Fuck, honey, please," he begs, his eyes pleading, and the sight is almost enough to make you stop teasing him.

Almost. 

You can't help the devilish smirk that crosses your face as you bring your hand up to his cheek, stroking your thumb across the stubble on his chin. He lets his eyes fall closed again, leaning into your touch. 

"This isn't very 'best lay your life' behavior."

"I will fuckin' strangle you," he mutters, his eyes still closed, a smile playing on his lips.

"Is that part of the Joel Miller Experience too? Because I don't remember seeing it in the brochure. Was it next to the premature ejaculation section? Or maybe the-"

The air is knocked right out of your lungs, cut off mid-sentence when Joel pushes forward. He keeps it slow but unrelenting, sinking into you in one smooth, fluid motion. You cry out, your back arching off the bed, eyes screwing shut as your fists twist in the blanket underneath you. 

It's more than overwhelming, it's absolutely mind melting the way he buries himself completely, stretching your walls, forcing them to make room for him, to mold perfectly around his length. You gasp for air between harsh pants and weak cries, the sensation of him filling you up, so much bigger than you expected, so much thicker than his fingers. You squirm underneath him, trying to get used to the feeling of his tip pressed against your cervix, the pressure building deliciously as the ache radiates from your core through your belly, to the tips of your toes.

"That what you wanted, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice strained and gruff, one hand still gripping your hip as he presses the other into the mattress by your head, holding himself up. "Is that enough for you?"

You struggle to find words, but you're not even sure if there are any in the English language that can convey just how good it feels.

"Uh-huh," you nod, blinking rapidly as the edges of your vision start to blur. "Fuck, Joel. You're so fucking big, oh my god."

You hear him chuckle, and he presses a chaste kiss to your temple.

"Not too much though, is it? Cause you were begging for more just a second ago. Thought you could take it, sweetheart," he croons, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

"No, no, 'sgood, " you whimper, the words slurring together as he starts to grind into you. "F-fuck. Joel. Shit, that feels so good. Holy fuck.

"There's my good girl," he murmurs, pressing more kisses to your cheek and your jaw, trailing down the column of your neck. His lips brush against the sensitive skin, his breath hot against you. He lets you get used to the feeling, cursing under his breath and trying to think of anything else but the tight, wet heat convulsing around his cock.

"Doesn't hurt?" he asks with a sudden tenderness, his voice vibrating against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"No," you sigh, finally starting to relax around him.

"Good. You gonna let me know if it does, right baby? Or if you need me to stop?"

You nod weakly. "Mhm."

He kisses you then, a soft, languid, and lazy drag of his lips against yours. He slides his tongue along your lower lip, and you let him in without any hesitation, parting your lips with a breathy sigh. He takes the opportunity to swallow down every little sound that spills from your mouth, kissing you with a kind of reverence, a kind of tenderness, a kind of patience and passion that makes your heart feel like it might beat right out of your chest. 

He pulls away leaving you even more breathless and dizzy, your lips tingling and swollen. And you're not sure if it's because of the kiss or the way he's stretching you so fucking wide, but your fucking drunk on it. 

He kisses you once more, on the corner of your mouth, his lips curling up into a smile when you nuzzle against his cheek, seeking out more.

"You still with me, honey?"

"Yes, yes, I'm here," you answer, your voice sounding far away, distant and dreamy. Joel chuckles, the sound making you smile. 

"You wanna keep going, sweetheart? Or d'ya need a minute?"

"I'm good, I'm good," you assure him, trying to lift your hips a little. "You can...keep going."

"Alright. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?"

You nod and then close your eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath as Joel pulls out, just a little, his cock dragging along your walls. It's another wave of overwhelming sensation, your entire body shaking. But it's nothing compared to the feeling when he pushes back in. The same full, aching, almost painful stretch, except it's somehow even better this time, your walls gripping him tighter, pulling him in, trying to keep him there.

"Fuck, oh my god, oh my god," you cry, your breath catching in your throat, your eyes fluttering open to look up at him. "Oh, Joel, fuck."

He's hovering over you, his brows furrowed in concentration, the muscles in his arms, chest and stomach flexing and contracting as he moves above you.

"Good?" he asks, a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, his eyes hooded.

You answer with a nod, followed by a long, low moan when he starts to slowly pull out again, pushing back in a bit faster this time. He builds a rhythm, the slick drag of his cock filling you up again and again, each thrust a little deeper, a little harder, a little faster.

"You're taking it so good," he pants, his hips snapping against yours with a particularly hard thrust, the force of which has you keening and crying out his name. Your walls clench around him, a gush of slick pouring out around his cock as you subconsciously try to pull him in even further.

"God you're so fucking tight, baby. Fuckin' soaked too, dripping all over me. Fuck. So fucking wet and perfect," he groans, his voice sounding strained, almost like he's in pain. "Such a good fucking girl."

You can't do anything more than just lay there and let him fuck into you, the sounds that spill from your lips a mix of moans, whimpers and desperate little cries. Your brain feels like mush, all thought processes reduced to a single loop of his name, your lips chanting it over and over.

And Joel's not much better, the only coherent words out of his mouth a string of praises, calling you his good girl, telling you how well you're taking him, how fucking tight you are, how heavenly you feel. His hands are everywhere too, caressing, stroking, kneading, squeezing, leaving no inch of your skin untouched.

He finds a steady rhythm and you know it's not nearly as hard as he could go, not by a long shot, but every thrust and drag of his cock hits you so deep and so hard, it's a miracle that you don't shatter beneath him. And the sounds, god the sounds are so obscene, the slapping of skin against skin, the wet, squelching noises of him pounding into your dripping cunt. It's a chorus of pure debauchery, music to both of your ears, only adding to the building pleasure. 

And just when you start to think that it can't possibly get any better, he hits a spot deep inside you that has your body bowing, a strangled cry tearing from your throat. You clamp down around him and he curses, his hips stuttering, his rhythm faltering for just a moment.

"There it is," he grunts, and you can hear the smug smirk in his voice, the absolute bastard. "Right there, huh? That the spot?"

He doesn't wait for you to answer, pulling almost all the way out, and then driving back into you, hitting the same spot dead-on. And you keen and wail, your body thrashing wildly as a new wave of ecstasy washes over you.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chant, clawing at his back, digging your fingers into his shoulders.

"Yeah, I got ya," he husks, leaning down to suck and bite at the skin just below your jaw. He keeps pounding into that spot, making sure to hit it every damn time, and your vision starts to blur again, black dots dancing at the edge of your eyes.

You don't even realize you're about to come until it's crashing into you, a sudden and violent wave that threatens to tear you apart. And Joel can tell, from the way you start to shake, the way your walls are clamping down around him, the way your legs lock around his waist, and the way you're desperately gasping for air, that you're right there.

"There you go, sweetheart," he coos. "You're so fucking close aren't ya? I can feel it. You gonna come on my cock? Huh?Gonna let me feel that tight little pussy coming all over me?"

"Oh god, Joel," you sob, tears welling in your eyes, his words alone pushing you even closer.

"I know, honey. I know. Just let go, baby. C'mon, that's it. You can do it."

And then he's snaking a hand between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing rough, tight circles against the swollen bud, and the pleasure reaches its peak, the coil in your belly snapping, sending you careening off the edge. Stars burst behind your eyelids as the most intense, powerful orgasm of your life tears right through you. Every muscle in your body tenses and contracts, the rush of blood roaring in your ears as white-hot bliss erupts throughout every fiber of your being, your walls pulsing wildly, gushing slick around his cock.

He's there with you every step of the way, murmuring praise in your ear, fucking into you and grinding his cock against your cervix, prolonging your orgasm, extending it for what feels like an eternity. And then you're boneless, spent, and helplessly limp, barely aware of the way he's still rutting against you.

"So good, baby," he rasps, his voice sounding wrecked and broken. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

And then you feel him start to swell and his thrusts become erratic and you know he's right there with you, teetering on the edge, ready to fall. A few more pumps of his hips, his pace frantic and uncoordinated before he pushes himself back up on his knees and pulls out of you with a hiss. He jerks himself for half a second before spilling all over your belly and your cunt, hot, thick ropes of cum splashing against your skin. He grunts and hisses through clenched teeth, a few last drops spilling out onto your pussy, his cock throbbing against you.

You feel completely and utterly destroyed, every part of your body buzzing and tingling, still trembling. And your head feels stuffy and foggy, a hazy, peaceful kind of bliss settling deep in your bones.

Joel slumps down next to you, breathing heavy, a low, rumbling groan escaping his lips. You glance over at him, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He's a sweaty, disheveled mess, and the sight makes your heart ache and swell, a rush of warmth flooding through your body.

He notices you looking at him and turns his head to meet your gaze, his own satisfied smile matching yours. You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of your throat and spilling past your lips in a breathy giggle. Joel's smile spreads even wider, his eyes sparkling.

"What's so funny?" he asks, propping himself up on his elbow and rolling onto his side.

"Nothing, I just," you giggle again, and it's almost a hysterical kind of laugh, a nervous kind of relief flooding through your body. "That was…"

Joel chuckles, brushing a lock of hair out of your face, his fingers trailing across your forehead.

"Yeah, it was," he says, his voice a low rumble.

"And I…I just really like you, Joel. A lot. I don't know. I guess I'm just happy."

His face softens and he stares at you for a moment, his expression so fond and tender that you forget how to breathe for a moment. He leans down and kisses you, his lips gentle and warm before he pulls away. 

"I guess I like you too," he murmurs, his signature smirk playing on his lips. "I dunno about a lot, but-"

"Shut up, you ass" you giggle, slapping his shoulder. "I'm trying to have a moment."

He hums delightedly and presses another kiss to your forehead."M'kay, you have your moment. I'm gonna clean you up, alright?"

You pout but let him go, letting the afterglow of your climax envelop you until he returns a moment later with a warm wet cloth. His touch is tender, gently cleaning between your legs and then wiping the cum from your belly. You're still shaking, every touch sending little aftershocks through your body.

"So," he starts, tossing the cloth into the corner of the room before looking at you expectantly. "Best lay of your life?"

You laugh, your heart bursting at the seams, your cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so hard. 

"Not even close."

Thank you for reading!! I apologize in advance for any errors I do not enjoy editing!!

tagging those who asked and who might be interested:

@shewantstoknow @pedritoferg @khindahra @wand-erer5 @akah565 @thereaperisabitch @first-edition @lilyevanstan1325 @lovelyjess69 @elliesswearjar @iloveenya @harriedandharassed @c2ss1e @paleidiot @starry-eyes-love @lola8888673 @saguchiya @milla-frenchy @cayleejz @missyorkswhore @farrowroyale @abbyandersonsragdoll @glimmering-darling-dolly @katiexpunk @worhols @thecasualnope @ahintofkiwistrawberry @lulawantmula @sawymredfox @prismaticpizza @serenadingtigers @venturawriter @kyloispunk @millercontracting @jjhayhay20 @bitchesuntitled @bean-is-reading @lvl-2005 @kamcrazy123 @covetyou @survivingandenduring @pinkiec6-rubi @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @pedroshotwifey @perfectlyfreeanalyst @plsdontmisfire @lokigonnakmsforbucky @kr-ickl3

I will not tag ageless/faceless (no pfp) blogs. If you asked to be tagged and weren't you either did not have an age/pfp or Tumblr wouldn't let me :(

[chxrryhansen]

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐌𝐁 𝐀𝐔

Pairing; Dark!Club Owner Ari x Shy!Reader

Warnings; dark themes, unbalanced power dynamic, daddy kink, no smut in this part but as usual Minors Please DNI!!

Summary; You knew it was a bad idea showing up to the most notorious club in the city, but it’s your best friend’s birthday and you can’t say no, right? So, what happens when the owner himself, Ari Levinson, spots you at the bar, claiming you as his own from the moment he laid eyes on you.

It’s finally here! The first instalment of my very first series, apologies for no smut but i promise the next part will be very smutty to make up for it 👀 bare in mind this is just the introduction!!! please don’t be afraid to ask questions and remember to reblog and comment💗 i love to hear your guys feedback!

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

You climb out of the uber, reaching to pull the hem of your dress down as you and your friends stumble towards the club.

You had finally agreed to try out the biggest club in the city, "Cherry Bomb.” Since it was your best friend Sarah's birthday your group decided it was only fair she could choose which clubs you were going to tour for the night. You had been putting it off ever since the opening night a few months ago, the reputation not being something you had particularly wished to be involved with.

All you knew was bad things happened there, and from what you had heard the owners, Ari Levinson and Lloyd Hansen, two brothers in arms, were so cruel and unforgiving that even the richest men in the city dared not to step foot in the place, and those who did shortly regretted it. Their names were known around the streets, the most notorious club owners to exist, 70% of clubs in the city all belonging to them, more money under their belt than the government itself.

An incident a few weeks back had became the talk of the town, according to Sarah a well known patron had gotten a little handsy with one of the clubs dancers and when he was given a warning to back off, he refused. Claiming he spent enough money in the club grounds to do as he pleased, including groping innocent dancers without permission.

Long story short the bouncers ended up forcibly removing the man, cussing and struggling on his way out of course, you know, the usual druken male rage and feeling of entitlement. Seemed like a pretty convenient coincidense that the exact same night the man was found beaten to a bloody pulp in a back alley, his face practically unrecognisible.

It wasn't long before the 'rumour' was quickly snuffed out. They were good at that, making things.. people, dissapear. Almost as if it never happened... as if they never exhisted.

Now that you were standing infront of it, you couldn't deny, it was beautiful. Even from the outside, the bright neon sign glowing in the moonlight, multiple bouncers blocking the large glass stained doors, making sure to check each persons id before unhooking the stanchion, allowing said persons entry. The queue seeming endless.

Lucky for you, your friends had been gifted VIP tickets, you didn't even bother to ask who they got those from, or how. You didn't want to know. You flashed your id at the pretty bouncer, his buzzed hair, large muscles and stern face making it quite obvious as to why he had the job he did.

You bounced your foot as he scanned over your card before opening the barrier and letting you inside. Sarah was quick to grip each of your hands, practically dragging you inside once you began to hesitate, not wanting you to change your mind so soon.

"Come on, babe, let's get those sweet legs moving!" Sarah hollers from ahead, her hand intertwined with your own as the rest of the girls hurried towards a booth.

"I-I don't know if this is a good idea, Sare.." you mumbled, fiddling with your fingers as she tugged you towards your friends and giving you a slight nudge into the cushioned seats, the red velvet material instantly soothing your hot thighs as you sat.

She reached down, holding your cheeks in both hands and facing you towards herself, sliding into the booth next to you "Listen, i know you're worried and if it makes you feel better i promise we can leave and go somewhere else, but just give it a try, please...for me?" she pleaded, giving you her famous puppy dog eyes.

"You know i can't resist that face." you whined as she cheered.

As you slowly got more drunk you began to forget why you didn't want to visit. The atmosphere was astronomical, the whole club being fit for royalty. The girls hooted and hollered as you trotted off towards the bar on your way to buy in a round of drinks. You waited at the bar with your card in hand but as you went to hand it over to the bartender he paused you.

“It’s on the house.” he says while he wipes down the bar with a rag, a smile on his face. He was handsome in all fairness, standing at around 6'2, his bright blonde locks and pretty blue eyes causing you to pause for a moment before giving him a puzzled look, tilting your head sideways.

“Is it a nightly special or something? I didn’t see anything about free drinks on the poster outside…” you begin yet he’s already scuttling off to take another couples order, shooting you a sly smile over his shoulder. Leaving you even more confused than before.

You slowly reach for the tray of shots when you feel a large hand on your shoulder, causing you to spin around in shock, ready to fight off any unwanted men. You pause yet again, having to look up to catch the mans face.

His 6’5 form towers over your much smaller figure, dressed in a dark purple suit and tie, his pearly blues shining in the colourful strobe lights, looking down at you with a slight smirk. His dark beard covered most of his face and his long curtains framed his godly sculpted face. Even with his suit on his arms bulged through the material, his thick biceps almost bigger than your head.

You shortly snapped out of your daze as his leather gloved hand squeezed your arm. “C-Can i help you, sir?” you stammered, worried incase you had been caught gauking.

He laughs “Not even a thankyou, Sweetheart? I thought you’d have better manners than that.” he teases, his rough voice sending shivers down your spine. You stutter as you try to find your words, seeming as they were lodged in the back of your throat.

“I’m kidding, name’s Ari…you gonna’ give me the curtesy of knowing yours or you just gonna’ keep starin’ at me with those pretty eyes?”

“A-Ari as in… Levinson?” you question, swallowing harshly as the nerves quickly built in your stomach.

He shakes his head gently with a smirk "So you know me, huh?"

Your eyes widen at the realisation of who the mystery man is, your arms instantly beginning to shake, your card still in hand. You were never good at dealing with situations such as this one, always being labled as the 'shy girl' of your group. Sarah being the complete opposite. Usually men in this situation would back off, sensing your uncomfortable trembles and leaving you alone, but not Ari. If anything the smirk on his face grew wider at the sense of your fear.

"Steve, why don't you head over to booth two, give the girls their shots." Ari calls out towards the handsome bartender from earlier.

The man, Steve, is at your side in an instant "No prob man, have fun you two." he winks, collecting the glasses and sauntering off with a wink.

Ari shakes his head with a laugh, “Why don’t you come with me.” he leans down to whisper in your ear. The vibration of his vocals in your ears sending shivers down your spine before he struts forwards, holding out his thick palm for you to grab on to, and almost as if your in a trance, you begin to trail behind him without hesitation. Sliding your smaller palm into his own as he led you through the club.

Your nerves never allowed you to talk much, or make your own decisions, that being the reason you followed the stranger without any question asked, which is exactly why Sare was usually always there to do it for you. But, your drunken confidence had allowed you to go to the bar alone, which you were beginning to really regret. Your confidence being blown out of the park as the attractive beast watched you from infront with a careful eye.

Shortly you arried at the unknown destination, trailing nervously behind Ari as he unlocked a large door, which was infact bolted shut. He pushed open the door, looking down at you, edging you to enter, and so you did. Your eyes lit up as they searched the vast room, expensive furnature lining the room, bottles of champagne worth more than your house filling the cupboards above his desk.

Ari pushed the door closed, moving to sit on a cushioned purple chair, his thick thighs spread wide as he removed his gloves, pouring himself, and you, a glass of his finest drink. His cold eyes beckoned you forwards, your legs shaking as you stepped towards him, standing inbetween his spread legs.

He patted his thigh with one hand "Sit." he called out, his voice sweet yet stern.

You looked at him shocked, your lips parting slightly, were you really going to sit on his lap? A man you just met? Who you didn't even know? "I-I don't think i should Mr Levinson." you whispered.

His eyes grew shades darker at your refusal, not even giving you time to debate your decisions he reached out, gripping your waist in his thick palm and pulling you down, sitting you sideways on his lap as you gasp in shock. His other hand pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear as you squirmed under the pressure.

"Pretty girl, next time i ask you to do something, you do it. No questions asked. You understand?" he asked in a low growl.

You swallowed your nerves and nodded gently under his deep gaze, your body trembling.

"Ah ah, words baby."

"Yes, M-Mr Levinson, I-I understand."

Ari groaned underneath his breath, not understanding how lucky he had gotten that a pretty little thing like you would just waltse right in at the perfect moment, almost as if you were made for him. Like a lamb in a lions den. "As much as i love the way you say my name, call me Ari, sweet girl."

Again, you followed his command. "Yes, Ari."

"Good girl." he rumbled, pulling your bottom lip gently inbetween his index and thumb, loving the way you felt on his lap. Your innocence and submissive nature automatically triggering his dominance, his cock growing hard in his slacks as your plump ass squirmed on his knee.

You keened at his praise, a fluttery feeling appearing in your lower half. Of course Ari noticed this, the way your pussy pulsated on his thigh told him all he needed to know.

"You ever been with a man before, sweetheart?" Ari asks while he strokes your hair, not even having to shout due to the soundproof room blocking out the clubs music.

"Um, n-no i haven't, my Grandma wouldn't really approve of that sort of stuff, she said i should wait till m-marriage." you whisper shyly.

Ari blows out a puff of air at your innocence, desperately trying to control himself. All he wants is to ruin you, in every way you can imagine, and more. He smirks, leaning into your shoulder, pressing his nose against your sensitive neck and taking a deep inhale. Groaning softly, your sweet scent driving his instincts wild.

"Your Grandma seems like a very smart lady, little girl. You live with just her, huh?"

"Yeah, i never really knew my m-mom and dad, and my grandpa died shorly after i was born s-so it's pretty much always just been me and her. She does her best to take care of me, taught me everything i know." you speak with a bright smile, Ari notices how your stutter stopped when talking about her, he thought it was sweet, how much you must care about her.

However, the dark side of his mind was quick to take a seat, the realisation that you never had a father figure making his cock impossibly harder. Knowing he could be that for you, and knowing you needed a strong man like him in your life to make all those decisions for you.

"I think i changed my mind, baby. Why don't you call me daddy from now on, mkay?" he spoke softly, yet the edge in his tone still clear.

"D-Daddy?" you muttered, confused as to why he would want you to call him that.

He moaned hearing your sweet voice call him by his new found title. Taking a deep breath, he sighed, choosing not to elaborate on his previous statement. "Good girl. I'm gonna' take care of you from now on, yeah? Anything you need, you come to me. Pass me your phone, sweet girl."

"Oh, i-i don't have a phone.. daddy."

Ari's eyebrows knit together softly "You don't have a phone? Why not?"

You shake your head, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "We uhm, w-we can't really afford that sort of stuff."

"Well that just won't do." he speaks in a teasing tone, tickling your waist making you giggle softly.

Suddenly a loud bang causes you to shoot upright, you quickly dash off Ari's lap, moving to stand away from him, his office door slamming shut as a tall moustached man enters. Your eyes widen in fright, knowing how violent the man standing infront of you truly was. You knew who he was too, Sare had told you plenty of stories about the cruel Lloyd Hansen. You often wondered if he even had a soul.

"Man it's fuckin' packed down there, what the fuck are you doing up here." the man groans, not even noticing you until he turns. He lifts his sunglasses, staring you down, his eyes scanning over your figure, pausing and licking his lips at the soft flesh beneath the cut of your dress, your pretty pink dress having ridden up your thighs.

"Lloyd." Ari bellows, sighing in annoyance at his disruption.

A smirk similar to Ari's appears on the man, Lloyd's, face. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" he speaks in a sultry voice. He begins his descent in your direction and the second gets a little too close, Ari shoots up out of his seat, moving to stand infront of you. A low rumble vibrating through his chest.

Ari stood slightly taller than Lloyd, with broader shoulders and thicker legs, the muscles in his back visible as he stood infront of you, almost as if he was protecting you, a hand wrapped around your hips rubbing his thumb in circular motions over your dress….and of course the most important detail, his luscious full beard compared to Lloyds 90s porn stache. They stared each other down, asserting some sort of dominance over one another… Ari seemingly winning as Lloyd begins to back up.

He lets out a chuckle, lifting his hands in a surrender position, taking a few steps back. "I mean no harm, just wanna' ask the pretty girl for her name, s'all."

You begin to quiver yet again, Lloyd's presence scaring you back into your shell. His dangerous aura sending goosebumps across your trembling figure. "I-I think i sh-should go." you whisper, tugging at the hem of your dress in a desperate attempt to calm your nerves.

"Don't move, sweets. Lloyd. Get the fuck out of here man." Ari bellows.

“I think you’ll find this club is mine just as much as it is yours, big bro. C’mon. Introduce me to the beauty.” he chucked yet again, probably at Ari’s fury. Steam was practically pouring out of his ears at this point. He didn’t even want Lloyd looking at you, nevermind talking to you.

“I mean it Lloyd get the fuck outta’ here man-“

Before he can stop you, you make a quick dash for the door and at the sound of Ari's resistance your legs carry you quicker than you could've ever imagined. Not looking back once as you pull the door open, swiftly shutting the door behind you.

You take a deep, your chest heaving at the stress of the situation, wiping your sweaty hands on your dress and making your descent down the club stairs, shaking your head in confusion and fear, eager to find your friends, craving their comfort and hearing a hushed "You fuckin' asshole." in the distance.

[gffa]

When Sol said that he felt a connection to Osha, when he felt that she was meant to be his Padawan, Indara's response was to make sure he wasn't confusing what he wanted with what the Force wanted, and that's it, that's exactly it! Sol's statement isn't criticized because that kind of destiny doesn't exist--it pretty clearly does, sometimes people are meant to be Master and Padawan, they're drawn together by the Force, that's a thing the Force does in Star Wars, that's part of the worldbuilding that exists. It's criticized because Indara isn't sure that he's not bringing his own baggage to this, as that's something that often happens. The Force is not separate from a Jedi, it's not a tarot card that you read, it's a mystical energy Force that works based on your emotions, that's why the Jedi strive to be as selfless and careful and calm as they can, so that they're not putting their own feelings into the Force and saying that's what the Force wants. Who knows if Sol was right that the Force was pulling him towards Osha, I tend to think he was feeling something very genuine there, but that tragedy struck and it all went horribly wrong, dealing Osha a wound that she could never quite recover from. But also he did desperately want it and was reckless in going about it, he was unbalanced in a deeply understandable way, a way that he could just spend some time looking inward and rebalance, it's not like he was in grave danger, just a misstep that happens to any Jedi, it's normal, it happens, you recover and you find your footing again, that's what Jedi do. And that's why Jedi have to be so careful, because it's so easy to confuse what you want with what the Force is guiding you towards. It's so easy to center on your own anxieties and think the Force is warning you of a danger, when it's just your own thoughts. It's so easy to think this person was meant for you, because you care about them, and you move too fast and people get hurt. Which got me thinking about how often Masters choose the Padawan in canon, because that makes sense, too, with how hard it is to really center yourself and to be able to perceive what is what you want versus what the Force is guiding you towards. How a younger Jedi may not have the same amount of experience at that Perceiving Yourself that a Master or even a Knight would have. That Indara doesn't say Sol can't be drawn to Osha, the Force doesn't work that way, says a lot about how the Jedi and the Force work, but also the show really nailed that you have to be careful with that, it's not a magic crystal ball that you can read with impartiality no matter what mood you're in or what you wish would happen. But you need to understand yourself and what you want is something that's at the root of Jedi philosophy and action.

[single-malt-scotch]

i think something that has hit me with SL and now WL is the way gimmicks push the "narrative" rather than survival makes me feel like im watching a game show rather than a survival show. i understand as content creators that they want something there to lead the videos and engage with but, as i have felt and expressed before, when they force results to a series where surviving to stay alive feels cheated or manipulated, i feel like theyve lost the plot of what "Life SMP" even started as.

it is conflicting with this season being multiple gimmicks technically but, when i think about it too i was already worried at the vibe of a new season feeling like theyre running out a gimmicks. and now we have a whole season to run through loads of gimmicks lol. which can be good and bad, and in this case it may start to feel bad if said gimmicks get harder and force what the snails forced this session-- the flow of the entire episodes, and easily shifting the lifespan and survival of a player just with one touch.

you cant argue on the fact that the Life series is about having limited lives and not dying, and the way this occurrs changes every season. but from 3L to LimL the things that cause death are other players, the existense of their limited lives, or the 'environment' of vanilla minecraft. LimL only shifted slightly by making lives count down regardless of dying, but it was hardly a twisted in reality. SL made a change towards have i felt was more game-y/content creation focused by making it so that tasks they were forced to do, could result in their deaths, some being blatantly dangerous

WL going from 'haha they get small or big' and the deaths from it being accidents by bugs (which sucks but did not create a huge issue in the end), to 'snail you will instantly die to and there is nothing you can do to stop it' is a pretty big jump from session 1 still basically being vanilla and session 3 being unbalanced and making cause of death forced upon the player in a way that did not work with vanilla survival at all. its like if they just had a creeper following them all session, but instead its just masked with a cute snail. a creeper following you all session isnt 'normal' so it falls out of fashion with how seasons previous to SL felt.

part of me hopes WL can exhaust the feeling of having "gimmicks" not even remotely related to limited lives and next season they can refresh with like... classic 3L mechanic instead. and get a break. i dont want to say things feel "forced" but SL and not this episode were way too strongly shaped by the gimmicks to where i dont feel like im thinking about this being a "Life SMP" series at times, and only reminded when someone suddenly dies in a way that felt random or uncontrolled

[evelineastrology]

𝕭𝕸𝕷 𝕷𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖍 1𝕳 𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖞 : 𝕹𝖚𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝕳13

the lilith person becomes obsessed and want to fuck the house person tremendously. I feel that this house is pushing boundaries together, the lilith person would try to drag the house person to the dark side, but the house person finds it attractive or they find it scary. there is often something unusual in this couple, for example an age gap. the house person can feel the horny energy strongly from the lilith person, and also because of the actions. For example finding reasons to touch you (if not relationship) if it is a relationship, the lilith person can not stop touching you, and the house person may feel a little uncomfortable about that. of course the house person would also secretly feel attracted to the lilith person in that way, but they can hide it better. The Lilith person makes it so obvious. Lilith person is so obsessed. they are in the public like I OWN THIS PERSON. As soon as they notice that someone else is trying to give attention to the home person, they may become aggressive towards that person, showing their dark side. the attitude is always very dominant, stalkerish, possessive and extremely jealous. But the Lilith person is so obsessed with the house person, the obsession can be dangerous, especially if the Lilith person is unbalanced.

the house person can find it attractive, but sometimes it can also be repulsive, for example if the Lilith person feels ignored once, they can immediately try to punish the house person, by arousing jealousy in the house person, or try to ignore her existence. But the obsession takes over, they can't keep it up. the appearance of the house person makes the lilith person horny quickly.

but i have noticed that the lilith person quickly starts punishing the house person, for example if they don't look at the lilith person for a while. too obsessive.

but this is my favorite overlay because it gives me dark romance vibes and it really is a couple that everyone can be so jealous of, they also give this dark vibe together!

the lilith person goes so far for the house person, and that's just so hot.

Anyone with this synastry? tell me your experience!

[yandere-daydreams]

an extended version of this post. hold your plushies tight tonight, folks.

The Yan!JJK Men With a Stuffed Animal Loving Darling.

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Sukuna, and Toji.

TW: Kidnapping, Stalking Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Non/Con, Non-Wholesome Activities Involving Stuffed Animals, and Generalized Freak Shit Activity.

Gojo likes to touch.

He just can't help it. He's never been able to keep his hands off of you, and that means he also can't keep his hands off of your used chapstick and dirty laundry and those cutesy, beady-eyed plushies you keep piled up in every corner of your bedroom - the ones he knows you cuddle to sleep every night, even if you deny when he asks. He likes to keep track of which is your current favorite, which one you're most likely to gravitate towards when you want something soft to hold - mostly just to keep track of your preferences, but also to know which member of your oh-so-precious, oh-so-cherished collection to target when he feels like there's been a little too much distance between the two of you, lately.

You might complain that he's too clingy, that he's too affectionate, that you don't want people to start to think you're anything more than friends, but your stuffed animals don't whine when he tears hole in the bottom of your current favorite and pumps all of his unappreciated affection into its poor, velvet-soft insides. That way, even when you're too cold-hearted to let Gojo cuddle you to sleep, you'll still have a little piece of him in your arms <3

Geto likes to keep his distance.

He's possessive by nature, but you already know that, wouldn't have ended up locked away in some secluded portion of his temple if he wasn't. He tries to be kind, to be considerate, to not let how tightly you cling to that threadbare childhood toy bother him, but it's difficult for him - it'd be difficult for anyone to see the person they love most show more affection to a filthy rag than they do to their doting captor lover, when you embrace that thing so tenderly while flinching away every time he attempts to touch you.

So, he does what he's sure you'd prefer, and he keeps his distance. Specifically, he resigns himself to an arm chair no less than ten whole feet from your shared bed as he tells you exactly how he wants you to hump your beloved childhood stuffed animal, what part of it he wants you to grind against until you soil on the very item you seem so intent on preserving over and over and over again, until he's had his fill. It's not that he doesn't want to touch you - no, he'd do anything to be able to kiss the tears off of your cheek as you hiccup out another fractured sob, to shove his cock down your throat as you mutter little, trembling apologies to an inanimate object - but apparently, he's not the one you want to be spending time with. He can only hope you'll have changed your mind, by the time he's ruined your little companion entirely.

Nanami likes to watch.

To be completely honest, he could care less about your preference towards stuffed animals. It's not that he doesn't find it endearing, but there are plenty of adults who like to collect cute things. You're nothing out of the ordinary - at least, not when it comes to what you do in your free time.

But, he does find it convenient - just how willing you are to accept anything cute and plush and pastel into your home without a second thought. It's difficult to find something that suits your tastes while still being large enough to store and hide a camera, but difficult doesn't mean impossible, and it only takes a few days' worth of effort before his velvet-soft, pastel pink teddy bear is posed happily on your bedside table and he's got a 24/7 view into the moments too private for you to knowingly share with him. He knows it's only a temporary solution, that either his camera will malfunction or you'll notice the strange bulkiness of your newest stuffed animal or he'll get tired of watching from a distance, but that's alright. Cameras can be replaced, paranoia can be soothed, and eventually, he won't have to resign himself to only watching, anymore.

Sukuna likes to dismember.

Piece by piece, limb by limb, thread by thread, preferably while you sob and claw at his wrists and beg him to stop. While other partners might be amused by such a childish pastime, you shouldn't need pastimes at all when you're with Sukuna - not when your attention is better off entirely devoted to him. He might soften later on, suggest you take an interest in something more appropriate for the lover of a king, but that'll only come after he's dismantled everything that's ever stolen your gaze away from him with a gleeful sort of malice. If you're tempted to point out his hypocrisy, mention that he's spent every second of every minute of his life indulging himself in every petty impulse that's ever passed across his mind, don't. Challenging his inclination towards destruction, however justified your complaints might be, will only make him more tempted to show you just how much of your life he can tear to pieces.

Toji likes to tease.

Despite everything, he might be the most likely to indulge your little fixation. He's too cocky to ever be jealous of material and stuffing, and he thinks it's cute - how tightly you cling to something that could never actually protect you from him, how reflexively you hide your face in the nearest swatch of faux fur whenever he gets a little too rough. When he inevitably decides you're too delicate to be left on your own, he might even get you a couple new stuffed animals as a 'welcome home' gift. He's just a considerate guy, like that.

And when he's got you face down, ass up, clinging to the plushie he all-but forced into your arms as soon as he decided he was going to fuck you brainless, he'll only degrade you a little for being such an empty-headed slut, so pretty and so stupid that no one ever had the heart to tell you that you're too old to be playing with toys. He'll coo and pout as you moan and sob into silky fur, asking why you suddenly 'don't like daddy's present' when you try to put any amount of distance between you and him (and, by association, the toy he's got you trapped against), and when you finally lose consciousness still holding onto your stuffed animal, he'll make sure to snap a few pictures; just a little something to show you when you wake up and want nothing to do with your new favorite plushie. You're lucky he's as nice as he is, as generous as he is. Anyone else would lose patience, but Toji's just gotta spoil his baby <3 <3 <3

[denim-devil]

✫ Bet U Wanna - PT 1 | S.B ✫

Summary - Ben was a douche, the biggest one you’ve ever met, yet something changed in him, especially after meeting you, after coming to realisation that your feelings may be mutual, you decide to push him to his furthest…

A/N - this is just an excuse to write some filth with Daddy Ben skdkdkd, enjoy! (The idea isn’t exactly story driven but I couldn’t pass up on news reporter reader)

As a TV presenter you primed yourself on making the viewers at home both entertained and focused.

Working for Vought never really phased you, infact, if anything, your life has just begun with opportunities rising left right and centre, connections had grown yet one.

Ben was hard to get through, even off screen, he never seemed to open up, nor did he bother even speaking to you until now, with a drink in hand and his suit sticking to his sweat-stained skin.

“Fuck, what is up with this weather!”

His voice ran through you like a blustering thunder storm, vibrations radiating throughout, focusing on the spot between your legs, it was true, you couldn’t keep away, maybe that’s why Ben had began to grow into someone less withstand-able, maybe that’s why Ben had grown to like you? maybe that’s why he called you over for drinks.

“It’s never the right temperature in here, something is always wrong-“

“Who are you? A fucking psychic?”

He glared at you with unknown temptation, ever since you showed up in blazer-suits that glued to every single best part of you, how you followed him like a lost puppy, eyes always glimmering when asking for anything that could potentially gravitate him back into popularity.

Ben didn’t want that though, people irked him enough to stay hidden, to just live life the way he wanted, although he wouldn’t say no, not just yet, he wanted to keep you around for a little longer, he was alone, so so alone.

“I’d like to think so-“

Ben chuckled deeply before chugging the rest of his drink, it was strong and bitter, like him, yet his wondering, gloved-hand krept up on your shoulder, resting there until you glanced over at him with uncertainty.

“Y’know sweetheart, startin’ to think your company maybe worth my while”

The room had began to get stuffier, the heat that travelled from your neck upwards spread like a wildfire, his grip, strong and welcome stayed, pushing you into the deep end, how could you be so willing to a…douche?

“Oh really?”

You fold over the papers you had before you, Ben taking note once your focus is on him now, forgetting the reason you were invited over, forgetting everything but him.

“Why’s that?”

Nervously stuttering, you watch the super soldier stand to his feet, the warmth now gone, the green material of his suit shimmering underneath the dim-yellow lighting which also showcased his thick five o’clock shadow, how were you holding back.

“Oh I’m sure you know darlin’ but i’ll leave that up for you to decide…”

He trails of, finishing up with a chuckle as he turns on his heel, you watch his back as he walks over to the soft couches placed upon beige carpets, your apartment was quiet and small, a place Ben loved to visit sometimes when he was missing your face, although he wouldn’t ever admit that.

Your eyebrows were furrowed, trying to place each and every move he made, it really made no sense but that could be how flustered you were, even from a shoulder squeeze Ben somehow managed to creep underneath your skin, practically controlling you.

“I-Is that an invitation?”

His meaty legs were spread as if he was trying to answer your in the air question with his body, slowly making your way over to the couch, you sit opposite him, his eyes trailing over your figure and how each part of you had it’s story.

Ben had his ways, emotionally unbalanced, fits of rage, easily pissed off but he had a soft spot for you, ever since that day you bought him coffee and asked how he was doing, he never replied but you respected his silence enough to just sit back and…stay.

“My guess is as good as yours”

He didn’t have to make it obvious, IT was obvious, from the way his lips flipped up into a smirk, how he watched you from afar, hungrily glaring at you before an inevitable pounce, like a predator with prey.

Confusion was one thing, you lacked the certain knowledge whilst conversing with Ben, a century year old man. It almost felt like talking to a brick wall, always unphased by the smack talk, unphased by his own words, unpleasant or not.

“Are you trying to hit on me?”

The question soon went over his head, the smirk faltering a little, you got his jist from the get go, yet you were unsure of what you felt from the inside, butterflies and disgust all in one.

“Am I that obvious?”

It wasn’t the alcohol talking no, it was Ben, from the dirty depths of his brain, you had no issue with that though, infact it made it easier for you to decide, the two of you haven’t felt it in so long, it was clear, wether he swung that way or not that he craved it…craved you.

So many questions were left unanswered yet Ben was so close to boiling point, he expected you to be all over, desperate for whatever he had to offer yet you still sat opposite him, sinking back into the leather, questioning reality, he could sense how lost you felt, yet that glimmer reappeared.

You were fighting with yourself inside, simmering down with the comfortable silence.

“Sorry- I’m just not…use to this.”

Glancing back up into his emerald green eyes, he too looked lost, his tongue lapping gingerly at his bottom lip, trying to figure you out. You began to choke on the words forcing their way out but coughed, calming your racing thoughts down to a comfortable speed.

“I’m just a new’s reporter, nothing special, I just work and we’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks and I-“

Ben stood, it all felt so fast yet he was careful, making his way over to you, two steps is all it took, two thuds of his heavy boots. He loomed over you, looking down, you felt that warmth again.

It took a few moments of shifting glances before his hand cupped underneath your chin, forcing you to accept the bond that had grown between the two of you.

His thumb slowly traced across your bottom lip, trapping you within his gaze, making sure you knew just how much he fucking wanted you.

“I see a pretty boy who doesn’t understand how to say “yes sir”.