#until the levee

[werewolfsmile]

Until The Levee - Cornelia Locke + Whipplocke

[watch it on youtube}

Finally, this video I've had in the works for ages is done!! Massive shout out to my besties on discord who helped with some editing choices! You guys are the best!

Song: Until The Levee by Joy Williams

[countryplowboy37]

Joy Williams - Until the Levee

[kukurubean]

the perfumed rise

[picturesofashe]

gathering levequests continue the cardinal sin of not allowing me to enjoy the new area music

[cxttlefishcxller]

Dahlia Jeyne -- The Voice of Hope County

I mentioned somewhere that coming into a game years after the hype train died down is like being one of the trash puppets in Labyrinth. I'm just puttering around the junkyard finding cool shit and putting it on my back. And as Far Cry 5 is my current hyperfixation, that means that I'm building fics and reblogging posts and essentially making myself a nuisance, so why not like. Actually post about the stuff I'm writing. Accountability and all that!

Anyways, this is Dahlia Jeyne, my latest BlorbOC that I've shoehorned into this game for no better reason than to get these brainworms out of my head. Fic facts and character stuff under the cut!

Name: Annabeth Dahlia Jeyne

Age: 32

Hair: Brown

Eyes: Brown

Dahlia is a journalist searching for the story that finally puts her name on the map. What she had originally started as a piece on the correlation of herd mentality and religious influence led her to mentions of a doomsday cult deep in the Montana mountains, and right to the doors of Eden's Gate. She spins a story about wanting to write about life on the inside of their commune to combat rumors and accusations from the locals that the group is nothing more than moon-eyed followers of a gibbering madman, and receives an invitation to stay in the compound and receive a firsthand education as to what the Project is doing from none other than their leader: Joseph Seed.

The people of the Project stand at the opposite end of her moral compass, but she's moved by their sheer belief in a better, fairer world. The rest of the county is painting them as traitors, devils, or even victims of the Seeds' manipulation, but Dahlia finds them to be kind, sincere, and unfaltering in their faith in the man and the family that they think will lead them from the jaws of destruction. Unwittingly she's swept into Joseph's machinations, falling deeper into his plans with every step she makes to figure out just what his game is...and if he truly thinks of himself as Noah saving his people from the oncoming flood.

I actually have 5 pages of this fic started which is on brand for me because I'd set out to write about my Deputy OC and John instead. Funny how the yearning rats have smaller attention spans than I do dudhsbbsbd

Anyways I will. Attempt to post things here to mark my progress, I guess? I figure it couldn't hurt any, and I ought to have some way to keep all of my thoughts together anyways. 😂

[veiledfox]

} Ever since I started logging into FFXIV again, I've been doing a LOT of Astrologian play and it's been wildly fun most of the time

I had one run with a Dark Knight that just, NEVER seemed to use TBN and iirc it was Lakeland dungeon, so it was super painful

I've also been starting to work on leveling my crafter/gatherer jobs again, and raising reputation with the Beast Tribes in The Shroud

Leveling Blacksmith is expensive though...

In other words, since I've eaten I'mma get on FFXIV now

[ffxivbabey]

Nyka in long robe with long hair got me thinking medieval/fairytale AU thoughts

[freelancearsonist]

make a move on me

➔ pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x reader - 5.5k

➔ You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodeling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.

➔ Rated MA for baby’s first anal fic protected p in a and anal fingering (r receiving), age gap (reader is early 20’s, joel is 36), m masturbation/pillowhumping, daddy kink, size kink, praise kink, gentle-turned-rough sex, pet names (baby, darling, honey, good girl, baby girl, little lady), slight degradation and condescension but only in a sexy way, one use of “slut”, pussy pronouns, one (1) pussy slap, gratuitous dickscription, heavy dom/sub dynamics i mean seriously these power dynamics are out of control, tommy is a little bit of a shit (affectionate) [pls let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

➔ This reader insert character: has female anatomy and uses feminine pronouns, no name/no use of y/n, is generally able-bodied, fits in joel’s shirt and is implied to be shorter/smaller than him, is on summer break from college but no major/year is mentioned.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. Keep his hands to himself and his mind on the job. Don’t fret over the pretty little thing who’s been draping herself all over the house ever since he started demo, practically begging to be fucked.

If he had any sense, he would pack his shit and drop the job–or, at the very least, tell your parents to put you on a leash. But there’s a little part of him that might be a glutton for punishment–that savors the teasing.

The most infuriating part of the whole thing is that he can’t blame you for this whole mess. He shouldn’t be so quick to temptation. You should be able to walk around your own home in whatever you want and not have to worry about the creepy contractor getting flustered every time he looks in your general direction.

But god, you make it hard–double entendre intended. You walk around like you haven’t a care in the world because you don’t; you’re home for summer break after a grueling year at college, and you intend to savor every languid second of it. Your preferred method of savoring just happens to be wearing tight little bikinis that barely hold anything in place as you lounge out by the pool in the Texas heat, or tight leggings that hug your ass so perfectly it almost makes him jealous of the material as you curl up with a book on your couch.

Joel’s a grown man. He can keep it in his pants, no matter how badly he wants you. But you’re not exactly making it easy on him.

Really, it’s Tommy’s fault when the levee breaks. If he could keep his big mouth shut, Joel might’ve been able to maintain the thin control he had over himself. But Tommy goes and makes an off-handed comment about you one night, and that’s the beginning of the downward spiral.

The brothers are both lounging on Joel’s couch after a particularly taxing day of demolition work, beers cradled in hands and the TV droning uselessly with some movie that they’re more staring at than actually watching. It’s late, yet weary muscles are melted so comfortably into the couch that neither of them try to move even after Sarah’s gone off to bed.

Tommy’s eyes flicker over to Joel, then back to the TV. “That girl’s gon’ be trouble for us, brother.”

There’s a question mark in the grunt Joel emits, leaning forward with interest because he knows Tommy’s talking about you without any specification.

Tommy hums in confirmation and takes a sip of his Corona. “She’s always wearin’ those skimpy little outfits a’hers, and she ain’t coy. Must catch that pretty little thing starin’ at your ass even more than I catch you starin’ at hers.”

Joel plays it off as best as he can until Tommy goes home for the night with a half-assed promise to actually be on time in the morning for once. Then he goes up to his room, locks the door, and wraps himself around the spare pillow that lays against his headboard.

He tries so desperately hard not to think about the plump round curve of your ass, or the enticing way you lick your lips, or those damned little bikinis you favor. He grinds his aching cock into the soft pillowcase and tries to think about anything that isn’t you.

But he comes with a muffled growl of your name anyway, face pushed deep into the pillow and hips jerking arrhythmically.

There’s not much he can do now besides clean himself up and try not to think about how thoroughly fucked he is.

The next day is torture because he can feel your gaze lingering. He catches you checking him out on more than one occasion, and you’re brazen about it now. You can tell something has shifted, so you shift with it. Where you once would’ve flushed with heat and hurried away to your room, you now meet his heated eye contact and hold it.

Joel’s jaw hurts that night from the way it’s been hard-set and clenched all day long. He rubs over his sore temporomandibular joints with his long, thick fingers and wills himself to siphon you out from beneath his skin.

It doesn’t work.

The work helps. Laying tile is something he normally considers tedious, but it’s a welcome reprieve in your home because he can get down on his hands and knees and focus on something that isn’t you.

You see the labor he’s going through, and you appreciate it. And really, what kind of host would you be if you didn’t reward his efforts?

It starts with a pitcher of iced tea. It’s made just the way Joel likes it, with light ice and a few slices of lemon. He doesn’t know how you could possibly guess that, but it makes him want you that much more.

And then it’s cookies. Pain-stakingly handmade oatmeal raisin cookies, to be exact. You’re like something out of his most shameful domestic dreams in your cute floral-patterned apron and oven mitts as you pull the tray of cookies out of the oven, and an image of you in nothing but those mitts and that apron flickers through his mind before he can stop it.

All the while you traipse around the house like a mirage–humming along to the yacht rock that drifts from Joel’s stereo, swaying your hips in the kitchen as you put together the most delicious bologna sandwich Joel’s ever eaten, toweling off your soaking wet body after an afternoon in the pool. You’re the worst temptation Joel’s ever had to face.

It becomes his mantra. Be respectful, be respectful, be respectful.

But there’s no respect in your eyes. There’s nothing honorable about the way you bite your lip and smirk when he catches your gaze lingering on him.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. But why should he have to play nice if you don’t?

And really, the whole thing is Tommy’s fault. He started it with that first comment about you, and then he goes and calls out sick (read: horribly hungover) this morning. He leaves Joel all alone with you–gives you the perfect opening to pounce.

Or, more accurately, entice Joel into pouncing on you.

He’s just setting his tool bag down, about to decide where he wants to start today, when your beautiful face pops in through the door.

“Good morning, Joel,” you say with that gorgeous smile of yours that makes his knees go a little weak. “No Tommy today?”

He nearly chokes on his own tongue when you step further into the room wearing a plaid button-up he left here earlier in the week and booty shorts so small he has to do a doubletake to make sure you’re actually wearing anything on your lower half. You look fucking good in his shirt, and suddenly all he can think about is pulling you in and bending you over the half-finished vanity–

“N-no. He’s sick,” Joel manages to choke out. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, then, “that’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

You look down and rub the time-worn fabric between your fingers like you have to think about it, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.

“Oh, it must’ve gotten mixed in with our laundry!” The little giggle you let out is so innocent that he almost believes you. Almost. “Here–”

You start to lift the fabric up your torso in the most tantalizingly slow fashion, and he just sits there and watches it happen. He sees the first peek of skin above the waistband of your shorts, and then your beautiful stomach, then the delicious curve of a breast–

He quickly jolts out a hand to stop you in the midst of mentally willing every single molecule in his dick to control itself. “S’alright, darlin’. You keep it. Looks better on you, anyway.”

“Okay,” you acquiesce and let the fabric drop back down into its rightful place. “Can I get you anything? Water maybe?”

He certainly could use it. His neck and face are flushed red, and there’s sweat starting to form at his temples despite the relatively cool temperature within the house.

He realizes, with startling clarity, that he’s at a precipice right now. This might be the only chance he gets to really do something about this burgeoning tension that’s spread thicker than butter between you and him. He’s got a choice to make, and it’s not going to be an easy choice.

“Sure.” It comes out a bit too high-pitched, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Sure, sweetheart. That’d be great.”

“Alright,” you say with that damned giggle again. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as you leave the room, Joel feels like he can breathe again. It’s so much easier to think straight when you’re not standing there, smiling up at him and looking so damn gorgeous.

He’s got two options, when it boils down to it: fuck you or leave you alone. And he really, really wants to take you. Make you scream his name while he pounds himself into you, fill you so full that you never completely wash him out. And you want it too, he knows you do, you’re practically begging for it.

But he promised himself he would be respectful. That he would keep his hands away from the girl that’s definitely too young and too pure for someone like him–because he knows that if has you, he’ll never be able to get enough.

There’s a very clear and obvious loophole that comes to mind now; a way he could have you without ruining you, a way you could both come out of this satisfied yet mostly intact. Joel’s never been opposed to doing the hard jobs, after all.

He’s got a condom in his wallet and KY jelly in his bag–mostly used for plumbing fittings, but it’ll do the job for this kind of pipework, too.

You come back with a glass of ice water, and his resolve slips. How the hell is he supposed to initiate this? What if you say no and think he’s disgusting? What if you tell your parents? He can’t do this, this was such a horrible idea, he–

Your touch on his back is like a gentle breeze, just a flutter of your fingers to alert him to your return. He flinches a bit at the sudden contact, but when he turns you’re still so achingly close. He can smell the agonizingly sweet aroma of your conditioner and the lotion you slather on your body after showering, and all he wants is more. He wants to wrap you around him, to inhale that scent straight from the source. His resolve is back, just like that.

He doesn’t give himself another opportunity to hesitate. He places one big, meaty palm on your cheek and wraps the other around your hand that holds the glass of ice water to steady you; and then he kisses you with such bruising force it almost knocks the wind out of you.

You moan. You actually moan the second his lips meet yours, and he knows just like that–with a startling moment of clarity–that this isn’t going to be enough. He’s going to take, and take, and take–gorge himself on you until you have nothing left to give. And the strangest thing of the whole matter is that he thinks you’ll actually enjoy his greed.

“Joel–”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmurs as his lips break away from yours–so low and soft in your ear it can’t be anything but a growl. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop right now.”

“I want it,” you affirm.

He searches your eyes, but he finds only earnest honesty and lust. That darkness, that pure and unadulterated want is enough to make his pants tighten. “Fuck.” 

He’s so big underneath your roaming hands as he crowds you back against the long bathroom vanity. He lifts you like you’re nothing and sets you on the counter top; he slots himself between your legs and there’s an actual stretch in your muscles to accommodate the width of his hips. One of his wide palms slips behind your head and his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging a little bit to angle your head just the way he wants it. It’s messy and frenzied and desperate–your hands gliding over tee shirt-covered muscle, his tugging your (his) shirt up over your stomach.

“Was starting to think you weren’t interested.” Your voice is heavy and breathy as he breaks away to tug the shirt over your head, casting it aside to lie forgotten on the floor.

“I’ve been tryna convince myself m’not,” he kisses into your neck. “Didn’t work.”

With a sudden roll of his hips, he has you gasping into his neck. He can’t be more than half-hard, but that bulge is formidable. Thick and straining and… suddenly you can’t focus on anything except getting him out of those tight jeans to see what you’re working with.

Your hand just barely fits around him. He’s thick and flushed, getting harder with each passing second as he scatters feather-light kisses over your neck and shoulders. He muffles a groan into your neck as you slowly pump his length–you think he’s seven, maybe eight inches at best guess. The tip of him is flushed red once you get his uncut skin out of the way, and it makes your mouth water. There’s a slight upward curve to him and a long, prominent vein that runs down the left side. It’s porn star material–you didn’t know real people had dicks like this.

“Joel… Jesus, that’s gonna be a tight fit.”

“Oh, don’t worry darlin’,” he hums, thumb ghosting over your clit in a way that makes your entire body jolt. “It ain’t goin’ in there.”

There’s nothing but pure excitement in your voice, despite the anxious gulp that tracks down your throat. “Where…”

“Flip over f’me.”

You follow his instruction with a sort of morbid curiosity, hopping down from the counter before folding yourself over it.

You can feel his eyes on you, as he takes in your willingness. It’s like you’re on display for him, for his appraisal. You’ve still got shorts and a bra on, yet you’ve never felt more exposed.

It’s almost like he can sense your mind swirling–maybe it’s because his is prone to do the same. He sets a gentle hand on your back and smooths it down your spine as he crowds up against you–you can feel the press of his exposed cock against the curve of your ass, and it makes you shiver.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs as he folds over you, caging you in with the delicious weight of his body. His lips trace along the curve of your jaw and down your neck as he speaks. “But I made myself this little promise that I wouldn’t fuck you. You got me actin’ so unprofessional, honey.”

You whine at the sincerity in his voice–all you’ve wanted since the day he started was for him to have you folded over and at his mercy like this. 

“You can fuck me,” you whine earnestly. “It’s okay, I promise. Won’t tell.”

“Mmm, I know. You’re too good a girl to go gettin’ me in trouble over somethin’ like this,” he hums–you can hear the condescension in his voice even as he praises you, and it makes your cunt clench around nothing. “But with all the teasin’ you been doin’... don’t rightly know that you deserve to be fucked.”

“Please–”

“However,” he continues, landing a light smack to your ass in retaliation for your interruption, “might be willin’ to take you anyway, with some conditions. Out of the goodness of my heart.”

He pauses to let you ask, “What conditions?”

And then he pauses again, asking his own question this time. Is he really going to go through with this? But he’s spent the better part of two weeks staring at your ass, and you’ve spent the better part of two weeks putting it on display for him. It’s like you’ve been silently asking him all this time to take it.

His hand slides down from where it rests on your spine, over your tailbone to where he’s been thinking about all this time. He feels the way your muscles tense up even through your shorts, and it sends a thrill he can’t describe coursing through his veins.

“You ever taken someone here before?”

“N-no.” He feels it again as his other hand comes to soothingly rub your hip–that excited-yet-nervous flutter of muscle. You haven’t run away screaming yet, and that’s the biggest motivator he could have to keep going.

“I think you ought to let me. As a thank you, for puttin�� up with all your play,” he growls into your ear.

It’s fucking dirty, the idea of letting a man you hardly know take you in such a taboo way. It’s even dirtier how fucking excited the idea has you.

“You say no right now and I’ll drop it,” he murmurs so sweetly. “Don’t ever have to talk about this again.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished talking–a sly smirk spreading over your lips as you grind back against him hard enough to make him choke on a moan.

“It’s only right,” you affirm. “Gotta make it up to you for how naughty I’ve been.’

His eyes flash dangerously as he grinds his cock against you again, smearing precome against the flimsy fabric of your shorts. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

He has your bottoms and panties down around your ankles in a flash, and he actually groans at the sight of your sticky cunt all puffy and wet and on display for him.

He can’t resist the urge to swipe a finger through your folds, delighting in the string of shiny arousal that connects his finger to your core when he pulls away. “She wants it so bad, hmm? Such a shame she ain’t gettin’ any.”

It tugs a moan from your throat, especially when he drags as much slick as he can up to circle your tightest hole. He feels the way you flutter with apprehension, and he leans back down to kiss the corner of your jaw.

“Gonna get you nice and ready, I promise. M’not gonna hurt you, baby girl.”

“Thank you, da–” You almost lost yourself there for a second–almost laid your whole hand of cards out on the table for him to see. You try not to get flustered over the slip–you simply clear your throat and try again. “Thank you, Joel.” But you aren’t nearly as smooth as you hope to be.

In a flash Joel’s free hand is lifting your head, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. They’re so much darker than normal, and it only serves to make you wetter.

“What’d you call me?”

“J-Joel.”

His hand slips down to your throat and gives it a warning squeeze–his jaw is set, you know he isn’t playing. “Try again, and tell the truth this time.”

“D… daddy.”

You try to hide your face, to cower in shame, but he won’t let you. He smashes his lips to yours at the exact second his first finger probes that tight, waiting entrance.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he slowly breaches you, using your own slick to guide the way. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You can’t do anything but gasp, hands clutching for dear life to the edge of the counter. This feels different, and not in the way you were expecting it to. It’s tight, sure, and it feels foreign, but it also feels so much better than you ever could’ve expected it to. The subtle stretch around his thick finger is addicting.

Joel’s jaw drops at the expression on your face; you already look so thoroughly fucked-out, and he’s barely even started. “Fuck.You like this, hmm? Like feelin’ daddy’s fingers gettin’ you ready for his big cock?”

The only response he gets is a wrecked little whimper, and he props your chin up again to meet his heated gaze. “Talk to me. Gotta talk to me, tell me how you’re feelin’, or I’m gonna stop.”

“Fuck!” It’s shriller than you want it to be and you would feel pathetic if you weren’t so thoroughly overwhelmed with this new sensation. “Don’t stop daddy!”

“Feels good, yeah? How long has daddy’s little slut wanted to try this?”

But there’s no way you can be expected to answer, not when he’s adding another finger to the onslaught. Not when your legs are already shaking and you’re thinking about just how many fingers he’s going to have to use to get you ready for the massive cock you can feel throbbing against your thigh.

He retracts just as suddenly as he started, and a needy little whine escapes from your throat involuntarily.

He can’t help chuckling as he reaches for the bottle of KY jelly he’d dug out of his bag while you were getting him water. It feels like it’s been years since you left the room on that little errand for him–definitely not the barely ten minutes it’s actually been.

“Relax, baby girl. I’m comin’ right back.”

You feel the cool drizzle of the water-based substance over your hole and it forces another whine from your throat. It’s met with his thick fingers again, spreading the jelly over your hole before plunging two in knuckle-deep.

“Atta girl.” His voice is thick and sweet as honey as he slowly works his fingers, thrusting and scissoring at an achingly slow pace. “Doin’ so good f’me.”

“Daddy–”

“I know,” he coos. “I know, it’s so much, isn’it?”

All you can manage to do is nod your head, arms shaking under the strain of holding yourself upright. He sees the way your limbs tremble and he adds a third finger just to be extra cruel–although he steadies you by grabbing your hip firmly with his free hand, keeping you in place as he fucks you open with his fingers.

Everything is so hot. There’s a sticky sheen of sweat covering your forehead and your chest; you can feel your own slick dripping down your thighs.

And then his free hand drops down to thumb at your clit, and everything twists in your gut so fast it nearly gives you whiplash.

Within seconds you’re coming–no pretense, no warning. It explodes white-hot from your belly and sweeps through you to the tips of your fingers and toes with flash flood speed. One second there’s nothing more than pleasant anticipation–the next, you’re shaking and convulsing and sobbing Joel’s name as you fight with every cell in your body to remain upright.

He does his part to work you through it, thumb swiping even circles on your sensitive clit, pulling his fingers from you to pin you in place on the counter so he can continue working you through it.

“I know, I know,” he coos so sweetly in your ear over the sound of your moans and cries. “You’re doin’ so good baby, let yourself have it.”

It’s minutes before you’re breathing normally again–your legs are cramping from trying so desperately to support your shaky weight. Joel’s hands are soothing you the whole time once he lets up the onslaught on your clit; it’s like he’s mapping you, tracing over every dip and curve so tenderly you could almost forget what this encounter really is.

“Doin’ okay?” He husks into your ear–and then he’s folding himself over you again, and you can feel the insistent press of his hard cock against the curve of your ass.

For some reason, that’s what really makes it sink in. That’s the moment you realize that this is actually going to happen–that you want it to happen. Joel’s about to take something from you that no one has ever taken before, and you want him to. You’re offering it willingly, even.

You hum in response and buck your hips back, giving him a delicious taste of friction that pulls a ground from his throat. “Mhm. I’m ready, daddy.”

“Fuck, that’s my girl.” He gives your hip a light pat before pulling away for a moment, and you somehow have the presence of mind to jump up on the deep countertop because you know your legs won’t be able to support you through what’s about to happen.

There’s a smile on his handsome face when he turns back towards you, lube and condom in hand. “That how you want it, baby?”

Despite everything that’s already happened, you feel so much more exposed like this. You’re completely naked, and he’s fully clothed with his pants shoved down just enough to free his dick. Even as you spread your legs to admit him between your thighs, you feel shy. And he senses it, the slight apprehension in your gaze, because his smile softens even further; he sets the lube and condom down on the counter next to you so he can grasp the collar of his worn t-shirt and tug it up over his head.

He’s beautiful for a nearly forty-year-old man, you think. He’s firm and toned, but there’s a softness about him that you can’t help admiring, especially around his belly. Your eyes eagerly lap up the soft curve of his tummy, following the tantalizing promise of his treasure trail to his cock, hard and aching for you. The ruddy, flushed tip is weeping for you; you don’t know that you’ve ever seen someone so turned on before, and it’s a heady rush of power.

He chuckles as he sees your hungry eyes taking him in–he raises one big hand to cup your chin and pull your gaze up to meet his. “You’re so pretty, baby, look so good spread out f’me like this. You sure you’re ready f’this?”

“Fuck yes,” you say with an alluring little wiggle of your hips, and that’s more than enough for him.

He pulls his bottom lip between even rows of shiny white teeth as he rolls the condom down over his length, and it’s actually intimidating like this. He’s so big and imposing and it makes your legs want to close, but–

“M’gonna go slow, okay?” He vows, voice gentle as his big, brown eyes look into yours. His fingers wrap tightly around the half-used tube of KY jelly, and he leans down to kiss you when he sees the nervous gulp that bobs your throat. “Gonna be real gentle, I promise. You tap out at any time and we’re done, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you affirm, and you feel a lot better. As out of the blue as this is, as little as you really know Joel, you can tell he’s being sincere. You trust him; you know he won’t hurt you.

The first press of his aching tip against your hole is enough to make you choke on a gasp. He’s big, and even with all of his attentive prep work to get you ready for him it’s a tight fit. You can tell it’s affecting him, too. His eyes flutter shut and he bites down hard on his bottom lip, and you can tell that he’s fighting with all his strength not to just shove himself deep inside you. You appreciate his restraint more than words can convey, so you don’t even try; you hook your arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep, messy, desperate kiss instead. His tongue licks eagerly into your mouth as he eases his hips further and further towards yours, and it’s a nice distraction from the nearly overwhelming stretch of your muscle trying to accommodate his girth.

He shudders when his hips finally meet yours, cock stuffed to the hilt into your ass. “God damn baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight. You doin’ okay?”

You whine at the first roll of his hips, nodding your head rapidly because words won’t come. It’s such a foreign sensation, being stretched and breached like this. Not unpleasant necessarily, but so brain-scramblingly different that all you can do is dig your nails into his strong, broad shoulders and hold on for dear life as he actually starts to fuck into you.

It’s nasty, and you’ve never been so wet in your life. You hear the sticky squelch of lube as he thrusts his hips, shoving his cock deeper than you imagined possible. Your own wetness seeps from your neglected cunt and drenches him, dripping down around his cock and wetting the dense curls at the apex of his sex.

“Shit baby, you’re takin’ daddy’s cock so well,” he whines breathlessly; one arm hooks under your knee so he can spread you open a bit wider for him, and then the other hand returns to your puffy, arousal swollen clit.

You make what has to be the most high-pitched sound you’ve ever made as his index and middle fingers start a torturously slow pace on the little bud. “Fuck daddy!”

“I know,” he coos–you think that soft, breathy, Southern twang is going to actually put you in your grave. “I know, you wanna come, dontcha? It’s okay baby, daddy’s gonna make you come all over his cock just the way you need.”

His hips pick up the pace in time with his fingers, and all you can do is lay there limply like a ragdoll. The pleasure is so much different than what you’re used to, but it’s good. It’s amazing, the feeling of him balls deep in your guts in tandem with his ministrations on your clit, in a way you never imagined it could be.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me,” he growls, hitching your leg a bit higher over his hip so he can thrust even deeper. “Fuck, m’not gonna last long like this. You’re gonna make daddy come so hard in this tight little ass.”

His words are accentuated with a little smack to the side of your ass, and it makes you moan louder still. Your head rolls back as he picks up the pace of his fingers, swirling hard and messy circles with reckless abandon. He’s not trying to prolong it anymore–he’s going for the kill.

“Fuck daddy!” Your hands scrabble for purchase on his smooth, freckled skin as he pounds harder into you. “W-want it, please, want you to come in my ass–”

“Gonna give it to you, impatient girl,” he growls deep in his chest. “You gimme one first.”

Your entire body jolts when he brings his hand down on your sensitive cunt before groaning at the way your arousal sticks to his hand and makes his fingers shine.

“She wants t’be stuffed so full, doesn’t she?” He purrs, fingers dancing so fucking teasingly around your fluttering cunt that it makes your eyes water. “Bet she’d love to be chock full’a cock right now.”

“Joel–”

“Now, now, baby, no whinin’. It’s unbecomin’ for such a sweet little lady,” he grunts, and the condescension dripping from his tone is almost enough to make you come on its own. “You’re gonna take what I give you and be grateful for it, aintcha?”

“Yesyesyesplease–”

His fingers have barely returned to your clit before you’re coming again. This one is even more powerful than before–a hurricane instead of a flash flood. Your entire body trembles with the ebbing flow of pleasurable waves–the words you’re panting aren’t even discernible English anymore.

The way you clench and flutter around him in your own pleasure pulls him over the edge faster than anything ever has before. He comes hard, chest clenching hard around his breath, cock twitching more violently than anything you’ve ever felt before as he spills his load into the condom.

It’s a long, breathless moment before he pulls himself from the vice-like grip you have around his dick. He pulls out with a deep, long groan–it makes you giggle, because it’s the most over-dramatic sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

There’s a beat, and then he starts laughing, too. At the sweet sound of your laugh, at the way he feels like he just ran a marathon, at the absolute absurdity of this whole thing. His laughter is so sweet and gut-deep and infectious, and it only serves to make you laugh harder. For a good few moments it’s just you and Joel, half naked, panting and sweaty, doubled over in laughter.

And then the bathroom door swings open and Tommy barges in. 

“I’m feelin’ a helluva lot better after sleepin’ in, what’s so funny–” He stops dead in his tracks; he sees you naked and spread out on the counter and Joel disheveled and sweating. Neither of you are laughing very much anymore as you both scramble to cover yourselves up.

Tommy quirks a brow, a smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes dart back and forth between you and Joel. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”

You don’t know how to answer when you’re so mortified, so you do the only thing you can think of–you dart out of the room and down the hall to the safety of your bedroom as fast as your shaky legs can carry you.

➔ beta: @fhatbhabie dividers: @saradika-graphics

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

➔ Want to support me? Please reblog this fic! It helps boost it in the algorithm and gives it more circulation no matter what your follower count is :) any feedback or comment is always greatly appreciated!!

[inthedarknessofnight]

Thinking about struggling musician Eddie who makes a living singing and playing guitar in a Metallica tribute band.

Thinking about bartender Steve who thinks tribute bands are the cringiest, most insufferable things to ever exist.

Thinking about Robin, his coworker, who made a bet on the very first day of their new job that Steve would eventually hook up with someone from a tribute band.

And the thing is, he almost makes it. Three years and he’s got a completely clean track record. Well, at least until the night some random Metallica cover band’s frontman has Steve questioning his sanity from the moment he sets foot on stage. Because Steve is mesmerized. By the way his lithe figure moves under the bright stage lights. By the way his fingers slide deftly along the neck of his guitar. By the way his voice permeates the room, filling the air to the point where Steve thinks he must be breathing the music into his lungs. And then, the motherfucker has the audacity to take off shirt his mid-performance, putting on display a well-curated collection of tattoos. Steve feels like an ancient deity has descended from the heavens and decided to play fucking Metallica, on a fucking Tuesday, in the shittiest fucking bar in all of Inianapolis. Well and truly distracted by the action on stage, Steve doesn’t register the glass slipping slowly out of his grasp, until the damn thing has hit the floor and broken into a thousand pieces. When he turns to examine the mess, Robin is already there, broom in hand.

“You might wanna think about closing that mouth, dingus. I don’t think you drooling all over this pristine countertop is good for business,” she says with barely contained laughter, quickly sweeping the shards into the dustpan.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he retorts, rolling his eyes, suddenly very aware of just how much he was staring. Instinctively, Steve shakes his hand to drive away the haze, grabs a new glass, and tries his best to focus on the task at hand.

It isn’t until the final number of the evening that Steve’s resolve truly crumbles. He’s all but managed to tune out the goings-on around him, which is why he nearly has a heart attack when he suddenly finds himself face to face with the beam coming straight from the main spotlight.

“Can we- Yes. Perfect. There he is,” says a low voice coming from the very center of the stage, followed by a cacophony of loud cheers.

And… Oh no.

“What the-,” he mutters, a hand flying up to shield his eyes from the blinding light. That’s when he sees him.

“Hey, pretty boy behind the bar. Get me some whiskey up here on this stage, will you?”

And Steve is so so so incredibly fucked.

He stares dumbly for a few seconds. Having seemingly lost any and all ability to think independently, Steve brain shifts into autopilot, causing him to grab the full bottle of Jack sitting on the shelf behind him, stroll towards the stage as if possessed, accompanied by the sound of cheering, which only grows louder with every step he takes. He climbs the steps leading onto the stage. As soon as he reaches the top, he finds himself face to face with…

He’s so close. For a brief moment, Steve wonders if he knew prior to this moment that a person can be this beautiful. They’re chest to chest. The guy is ducking his head to whisper something to Steve, his breath hitting the sensitive spot just below the ear as he does so.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, his like voice smoke, and milk, and honey, and all things Steve wants to breathe in, and drink, and savor. He plucks the bottle from Steve’s hand, ringed fingers grazing his.

He winks at Steve as he takes a few steps backwards, a devilish smile playing on his lips. Then, without breaking eye contact, he tips his head back, opens his mouth, and begins pouring the amber liquid until it spills over he edges, running down his neck and the length of his torso. After what feels like hours to Steve, the guy finally swallows the remnants of the drinking in his mouth, immediately leveling Steve with a dark gaze.

“Now you.”

Positively transfixed, Steve realizes a little too late that he has, in fact, missed his window to flee, and is headed head-first for whatever public humiliation the guy has in store for him. A strong, sure hand grips the back of his neck, long fingers tangling into the hair at the nape, tugging ever so slightly.

“Open.”

It’s not gentle. It’s a thing of lust. A command. Steve feels it in his bones. And he can’t look away. His body is not his own when he gives into the pull of the musician’s hand, his jaw going lax, mouth automatically falling open. The guy brings the bottle up to Steve’s mouth, pouring in a generous amount. Before Steve even gets the chance to swallow the liquid already burning its way down his throat, the bottle is being shoved rougly into his hand, the guy bringing his other hand up once again, only to press the palm under Steve’s chin, forcing his mouth closed. Forcing him to swallow. Steve nearly chokes.

“Good boy,” he says with a wicked grin, before pushing a spluttering, coughing Steve back in the direction of the stairs, causing him to nearly topple off the stage. The guy laughs maniacally into his microphone and the crowd goes wild, the drummer already counting them into the final song.

Still bewildered and absolutely dumbfounded by whatever just happened to him on that stage, Steve chances one last glance in the singer’s direction as he descends the stairs.

This time, however, he isn’t met with a sultry, dark look, or one of the guy’s infamous mischievous grins. Instead, he finds a pair of soft brown eyes staring back at him, and plush pink lips curved into the dopiest, most endearing smile Steve has ever seen.

…

By the end of the night, Steve has found the love of his life and Robin is collecting money from nearly every employee at the bar, sporting a smug, I-told-you-so expression on her face.

[humansofnewyork]

“Picture it, okay? Mardi Gras. New Orleans. Bourbon Street. I’m on college break with my three best childhood friends. Zak is there with his parents. He’s got his mom and dad with him. So it’s two different vibes, but somehow we all end up on the balcony of the same bar. Everyone’s got beads in their hands. We’re all yelling to see boobs. Well, I’m yelling to see boobs. That was just me. But Zak had a perfect mustache. He used to grow it much longer and curl it with wax. And I normally don’t approach people, I’m not that person. But his whole family seemed cute. They didn’t seem like normal New Orleans vacation people. So I was like: ‘Can I take a picture with you?’ Then we ended up adding each other on Snapchat, because that was the thing back then. And we agreed to meet up the next day after his family was done with their gator cruise and I was finished visiting the strip club. That night we walked along the river until the sun came up. I remember doing handstands on the levees. Then at the end we kissed. It was just a kiss because I was leaving early the next morning, and honestly I thought that would be the end of it. I thought for sure I was never going to see this kid again. But we kept talking, and two weeks later I’m taking his virginity in a Las Vegas hotel room. There was something going on with his stomach that day. Right when we finished he went to the bathroom and started throwing up. I called my girlfriend and said: ‘I don’t think he likes me.’ But it’s been love ever since.”

[babyboydaniel]

Knock, Knock (M) | Part 3

Daniel Ricciardo x Fem!Reader | Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lando really needs to learn how to knock.

Smut, Fluff | Warnings: 18+, Semi-Public, Masturbation, Oral (male receiving) | Word Count: 2.8K

It was Friday, which meant free practice for all the drivers. You were excited to be able to see some action, even if it was just the teams running their programs. Not to mention getting the privilege to watch your boyfriend in action, wearing his undeniable mouth-watering race suit with skin-tight fireproofs underneath.  

Your morning started with an innocent enough make-out session with Daniel before he suggested that you shower together to “save time.” Because somehow you were running late again. Daniel kept his hands to himself, well mostly to himself. 

After hopping out of the shower, the two of you got ready in record time, yelling at him that tomorrow you had to wake up earlier since you cannot live your life like that. All Daniel did was laugh in response while running some product through his hair to make it extra curly. Tempting you to just run your hands through it and ruin it. But, unfortunately, there was no time for that. 

The ride to the track was quick enough; before you knew it, you were walking hand in hand through the entrance. Scanning your badges as you made your way under the archway. Daniel smiled and waved to anyone calling his name. Shaking hands with those who came up to greet him. It made you smile, being able to watch the one you love be so loved.

It was not until after you reached his driver’s room that the thought of a potentially rogue Lando Norris flickered through your mind. With your hectic morning, the only thing that you focused on was getting out of the door and to the track. Now that you were there, you could not help but think about Lando and the antics he caused the day before. You hoped that you were not going to see a lot of him.

After setting your stuff down, Daniel suggested getting something to eat from hospitality since neither of you had eaten yet. Your stomach grumbled at the thought and that was answer enough for him. His warm, calloused hand returned to yours as you made your way back through the hallways that you had yet to familiarize yourself with.

As you waited in line for your food, you heard someone call out to Daniel behind you.

“Oy, how are the lovebirds?” Lando asked as he approached the both of you, reaching out to do one of those bro hugs with Daniel while offering you a tiny smile and a wave of his hand.

Daniel laughed as he wrapped an arm around your waist, attaching you to his side, “We are doing just peachy this morning. How are you?”

Lando quickly glanced at you before returning his attention to Daniel, “Same, though I woke in my bed alone, so it could only be so good,” he joked.

“I guess you could say I am lucky in that department,” Daniel chuckled while pressing a kiss to your head.

“I guess you are,” Lando responded, his eyes on you again.

“Are you grabbing something to eat? If so, you can join us at a table,” Daniel offered.

Lando looked as if he was debating something before agreeing to have breakfast with you guys. You grabbed your meals and headed to an open table. Lando followed closely behind. The chosen table sat four, a chair on each side. You plopped down next to Daniel, hoping that Lando would make the smart decision and sit on his opposite side, but of course, he did not. He chose to sit next to you. Flashing you a shit-eating grin as he subtly scooted his chair as close to you as possible.

“So,” Lando started, looking at you, “what are you most excited about today?”

As much as you did not want to interact with him, Lando was Daniel’s teammate and friend and you had to make an effort. So, with a smile, you responded, “Seeing the cars actually out on the track. I am so used to watching it on TV. I am sure it is much more magical in person.”

Lando nodded, pleased with your answer, “Just wait until the race. It is next-level.”

“I know. I cannot wait. Also, being able to experience what Daniel does every weekend he is away from me will be special.”

“Aww,” Daniel interjected, placing a sloppy kiss on your cheek, leaving an obvious wet mark.

“Eww,” Lando giggled, “you guys are too cute.”

Though Lando joined in on the fun, you could tell that something was simmering beneath the surface as he looked at the both of you. Was it jealousy? Lust? Whatever it was made you feel hot, radiating just beneath your skin. Remembering how Lando’s hands felt on you, how hard he was for you, the way his mouth felt around your fingers. Lando’s gaze fell on you, an amused smirk on his lips like he could tell that he affected you.

As you chatted, you slowly began to enjoy yourself. Lando was not so insufferable when Daniel was around. You could understand why Daniel liked him so much. 

During a truly riveting conversation about flying squirrels, someone called Daniel over to talk to them. With an apology and a promise to be right back, Daniel left you with Lando. 

The moment Daniel was out of hearing range, Lando opened his mouth. 

“Lucky me,” he whispered, “I got you all to myself.”

“Lando, I suggest you give up on whatever game you are playing. I am taken so you might as well save it for someone who will go for you.”

“See, that is where you are wrong,” Lando leaned in closer, his hand finding its place on your bare thigh, “I can see the way you react, that you are still thinking about yesterday.”

You shook your head as he began drawing random shapes on your leg. Teasingly moving higher and higher until his fingers dipped under the hem of your dress. If you were hot before, you were on fire now.

“Believe me, sweetheart, I couldn’t stop thinking about it last night either. While I came all over myself. Calling out your name,” his eyes sparkled, telling you as if you were discussing the weather.

You whimpered as you avoided eye contact with Daniel’s teammate. You were absolutely fucked. Lando’s fingers found their place along the edge of your underwear, almost close enough to where you wanted him. As if they had a mind of your own, your legs opened further. Directing him to run a finger along your dripping pussy.

 “Look at me, sweetheart,” Lando whispered. 

Against your mind's wishes, you did. The strong desperate look of desire overflowed from Lando’s eyes. It made you shiver. 

Before you could respond, Daniel reappeared.

“Whatcha guys whispering about?” he hushed as he returned to his seat next to you, placing his hand on your other thigh and squeezing it. Lando’s hand quickly disappeared from the other, and you felt like you could breathe again.

“I was just telling her about some embarrassing stories about you,” Lando teased with a cough.

Daniel groaned, “Aw, come on, mate.”

The rest of the conversation went on like that. Daniel and Lando went back and forth while you sat there quietly. Picking at your meal until you had finished, and only interjecting when spoken directly to. Soon the three of you made your way back to their driver's rooms. Lando disappeared into his room with a wave, and you and Daniel walked through the next door over. 

The remainder of the morning was just as busy with them needing to do more media and a briefing, and then Daniel did a quick workout followed by a stretching routine. Not wanting to sit in the room all day, you followed Daniel around when you could, watching as he charmed every person he encountered. You could not be luckier. 

Before you knew it, it was time for free practice. You and Daniel made your way down to the garage, where you had the privilege to watch from there. Daniel led you around and introduced you to any people he previously missed. You were buzzing with excitement, and you could tell how much joy Daniel got from sharing this part of his life with you. 

When Daniel got deep into a conversation with one of his engineers, you realized that you left your phone back in his room. You informed him that you were going back to get it. He shot you a smile and a thumbs up to confirm he heard you. 

As you walked down the hallway, almost to the room, you heard a noise. You stopped trying to figure out where it had come from when it happened again. Was that a moan? You thought. Then you heard it again, this time a little louder. Definitely a moan. 

Your head whipped to the right and noticed that Lando’s door was slightly ajar. Not enough that it was immediately noticeable but when you did you got a clear view into the small room. 

There lying on the couch was Lando, completely dressed in his fireproofs and race suit, which was hanging around his hips, but his fingers were wrapped around his cock. He was beautiful, girthy, and long, the tip flushed and leaking. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open, moaning every time his hands ran over the tip of his dick. The obscene sound of him getting off made you hot. Your mouth watered at the thought of how it would feel to wrap your lips around him. Forcing him down your throat while his big hands gripped your hair. Fucking into your mouth until he was whining and pink, as he looked down at you taking him all in. Those erotic blue eyes staring back at you, telling you how much of a good girl you were, and you took his cock so well. 

You stood there for what seemed like forever, fantasizing, and you could tell that he was getting close. His hips bucked up into his hand while the other was shoved in his mouth so he would not make so much noise. Precum was leaking out of him like a faucet. It was a sight to see. 

You were pressing your thighs together, trying to dull the ache. Losing your balance as you did so. While you attempted to correct yourself, your hands braced against the door pushing it open that much more. 

Lando’s eyes flew open as he heard the movement. The moment he locked eyes on you. He was cumming all over his fist, in hot spurts. His fireproof top was covered in his own release, which he would no doubt have to change. The desire to lick his cum from his chest was almost too strong not to give into. You wanted him in ways you couldn’t understand. 

The look Lando gave you was intense causing your unsteady knees to buckle. But he looked pleased. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, how the tables have turned,” Lando joked, his voice thick from his orgasm. 

You opened your mouth to respond but nothing came out. So, you snapped it shut and quickly turned to leave, shutting the door completely before grabbing your phone in haste. 

Luckily, you made your way back to the garage without running into Lando. That was something that you do not think you could’ve handled at that moment. 

Daniel was still standing hunched over a monitor with some strategists, so you hung back and observed. Watching the way he gestured with his hands to emphasize a serious point, or the furrow of his brow when debating the pros and cons of a particular setup. You couldn’t get over the love you had for him and the guilt that was brewing in your stomach about how much you wanted Lando. 

As you were making heart eyes at Daniel, you felt someone come up behind you. Their fingertips trailed down your spine until their hand came to rest on your lower back. Their warm breath fell over the back of your neck causing your hair to stand on end. 

He was too close. Far too close but you couldn’t help but to lean into his touch. 

“I am lucky it was you who walked by,” Lando stated cheekily.  

You blushed just thinking about the recent memory, trying to ignore the man behind you and the feeling of his hands on your body. 

“Maybe you will think about me while Daniel is fucking into you later tonight. Calling out my name instead of his as you come. I am sure he would love that,” Lando taunted when you did not respond. His voice inching ever closer to your ear. 

You ignored him once again, but your body was a traitor. Your mouth opened as your breathing increased and the hold on your phone tightened. 

“Sweetheart, you can try to deny that you feel anything, but I can see how your body reacts. You want me just as much as I want you.”

Then in the middle of the crowded room and with your boyfriend only a couple of feet away, Lando licked down the shell of your ear before giving it a nip. You yelped, though it sounded more like a moan in your ears. Thankfully, no one heard over the wheel guns going off. 

At that moment, you turned to look at Lando completely. Moving away from his warmth so you have a moment to think straight. 

“Lando, I am with Daniel. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. So give it a rest,” you sighed, trying to regain some sort of control. Because being around Lando makes it feel like you might slip at any moment. 

Lando smirked, “Daniel can join us if he wants.”

Before you could respond someone from Lando’s side of the garage was calling him over. He looked annoyed but left without a glance back. 

You stood there for a couple of minutes before Daniel made his way over to you, that beautiful smile on his lips. He took you into his arms when he got close enough, your hands resting on his chest. 

“I saw Lando talking to you. I am glad that you two seem to be getting along.”

“Yeah, he is nice,” you responded, as if trying to convince yourself but doing a poor job of it. 

Daniel gave you a questioning look but did not ask any further questions. 

Then he was called over since free practice was about to start. With a grin, he pressed a kiss to your lips and made his way over to his car. 

The rest of the day passed in a blur, between all the technical jargon that you tried your hardest to understand, and attempting to understand the top-secret run plans. But, it was overall unbelievably enjoyable. 

Luckily, you did not have to interact with Lando for the rest of the day. He was too focused on his job, rightfully so. But that did not stop him from glancing over at you any chance he got. 

Once Daniel was done with all his duties, you gathered all your belongings and said goodbye to everyone on your way out. 

Being the sweet boyfriend that he is, Daniel had organized for you two to have dinner at a local spot, something away from the crowds with a homey feel. The hostess directed you to a small table secluded from the rest of the patrons. Giving you and Daniel enough privacy to enjoy each other's company without the fear of people listening in. 

“I am so glad you have been enjoying the race weekend so far,” Daniel said once the food and drinks were ordered, grabbing your hand in the process. 

His honey eyes were so open and loving as he stared at you. 

“Me too. I am beyond happy that I have had the time to do this, and I will need to plan to come to another one sooner rather than later.”

Daniel smiled, “Really?”

You nodded, “Of course, I feel closer to you when I am here.”

Daniel beamed and leaned over the table to kiss you. His warm hand came to rest on your jaw in the most tender way. The kiss was filled with an overwhelming amount of love. It took your breath away.

The rest of dinner passed with Daniel and you in your own little bubble. Loving touches and delicate kisses were in abundance. The food was delicious, the wine was flowing, and the company was the highlight of it all. You loved nothing more than spending time with Daniel. 

Towards the end of the dinner, Daniel and you were sharing a chocolate mousse. He looked deep into your eyes and casually asked, “So, what’s up with you and Lando?”

Your mouth dried, and your heart accelerated. 

“What do you mean?” you stammered, focused on the dessert in front of you. 

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Daniel challenged softly, his expression neutral.

It was at that moment that you had an out, a chance to be open about what has been going on. You knew you were going to have to tell him eventually. But, if you were being honest, you were enjoying this game with Lando a little too much, and you were not sure if you were ready for it to end. Fuck, you thought. 

Part 2 | Part 4

[ninibeingdelulu]

heyy could you do a pregnant female reader x geto please like hc or however u want thank youu

How he act when you’re pregnant ft. suguru geto

a/n: ty 4 the request anon!

Suguru may be the fearsome leader of an anti-non-sorcerer cult, but deep down there's still a part of his soul that belongs solely to you and the child growing within your womb.

He masks his true feelings with that signature cold, impassive facade around his loyal followers.

But whenever the two of you are alone, his icy exterior immediately melts away bit by bit.

Suguru can't resist the temptation to kneel before you, gently cradling the swell of your pregnant belly between his calloused palms.

His thumbs map out the rippling flutters and kicks from within as if decoding an ancient arcane language.

"Do you feel our heir shifting inside, my love ?"

His deep rumble always takes on an uncharacteristically hushed reverence during these tender moments. "So powerful...just like their mother."

He'll then dip his head to pepper soft, lingering kisses against your stomach - wordlessly conveying his boundless pride and adoration for the new life blossoming under his fervent worship.

When the pregnancy insomnia and restless nights inevitably strike, Suguru is the first to sense your stirring beside him from even the lightest change in breathing pattern.

Without a word, he'll enfold you into his strong embrace, palming soothing circles over your lower back and whispering indecipherable words laced with cursed energy directly against your skin to ease your discomfort.

"Allow me to bear this burden for you both, my darlings..."

He'll rasp the entreaty like a sacred mantra repeatedly until you've drifted back into a blissfully dreamless slumber cocooned in his protective heat.

Once you're finally due, Suguru wastes no time ruthlessly dispatching any who attempt deterring him from remaining glued by your side during labor and delivery.

He is a man possessed - fueled by sheer stubborn willpower and the ferocious desire to bear witness to this historic event.

The instant that robust newborn cry pierces the air, he shatters. Suguru openly weeps unrestrained tears of rapturous joy while clutching your sweat-dampened brow to his chest - the last of his emotional levees obliterated.

He remains equally awestruck cradling that tiny squirming bundle, studying every indescribably perfect detail with an intensity you've never witnessed before.

"Look what your incredible strength has brought forth, sweetheart..." Suguru's sandpaper baritone cracks with each hushed endearment while rocking the newborn firmly against his thrumming heart.

[thir10th]

you're too sweet for me - Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader

summary: You can't sleep, and Emily finds a way to kill some time TW: smut, food play, oral sex, fingering, no proofread because i'm tired asf, that's it lmk if i miss something A/N: this is probably the nastiest thing i've written to date, i hope you like it as much as me. Like & reblog

You turn over, trying not to wake up the woman who sleeps on your side, her arm wrapped around your waist.

3.35 am the bedside clock reads

Emily's apartment has always been so comfortable, you've always liked staying over, her sheets always smell like her, always a good bottle of wine on the fridge, your favorite cat wondering around, purring every time you scratched the back of his ears.

Emily’s place was starting to feel like home, and you were just so thankful for that, but right now you couldn’t sleep.

You had had a long day at work, got home after coming back from a long case, nether of you had wanted to cook, so you ordered takeout and got lost into each other for a couple of hours, you’d think that would be enough to put you to sleep, but you had the habit of having a coffee on the afternoon, and that kept you awake for a long time.

You got up from bed, slowly, to avoid waking her up. You find her shirt on the floor along with the rest of both your clothes scattered around, you put your underwear and her shirt, and walk to the kitchen to find something to eat and kill some time.

You open the fridge. There’s not much since you were out for the whole week.

You are looking for an apple on the back when you hear footsteps entering the kitchen

“Hey, what’s up? You can’t sleep?” You turn around to see your girlfriend, carrying Sergio in her arms, she’s wearing an old shirt she wears as pyjamas, her black sex hair all messy on her shoulders, she gives Sergio a kiss on the head before leaving him on the floor.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up” you say, she walks up to you, surrounding your waist with her arm, pulling you to peck your lips, the door of the fridge still open “there’s not much, we should go grocery shopping tomorrow” you say, laying your head on her shoulder.

She looks on the first shelf, a triumphant smile on her face when she finds what she was looking for “but there is, this” a can of whipped cream on her hand

The mischievous smile starting to form on her lips suggests she has something in mind for you

“I don’t think that is the best we can have before bed” you say trying to play it cool, she runs her hand caressing the uncovered skin between her shirt and your underwear.

“You know what? I’m hungry too” she kisses you on the lips, then your cheek, leves a soft trail of wet, soft kisses until she reaches your earlobe, tugging it between her teeth, biting it gently

“of you” her soft breath on your ear, she moves donw to kiss the curve of your neck, nipping the soft skin with her teeth.

“Lay down” she says in her most commanding voice, and you comply, you sit up on the kitchen table, the cold surface coming in contact with your naked skin.

"good girl" your girlfriends voice low and bossy, you can feel the wetness between your legs, only Emily could get you like that with only a couple of words.

She starts unbuttoning your shirt (her shirt?) slowly revealing your chest, she unbuttons your shirt, moving the fabric aside to leave your entire chest exposed, your nipples erect as they come into contact with the cool air

"this is gonna be messy, ok baby?" she looks at you in the eye, you can't look away from her, the whole scene feels tremendously erotic, completely out of breath, you can't bring yourself to form any coherent words, so you simply nod.

She leaves a soft kiss on one of your nipples, you close your eyes to the feeling, when the sound of the can and the cold snetation of the whipped cream on your sensitive bud makes you cry out in surprise

"shhh, it's ok, you look delicious like this, baby" she hastily lapped up the whipped cream, sucking your strained nipple into her mouth, making sure to gather up every last drop.

you moan beneath her, feeling her warm mouth give your nipple her undivided attention.

She straddled you on the table, and poured some more whipped cream on your neck, right on your collarbone, this time you were expecting it so the cold doesn't startle you as much.

You follow her every move, she hungrily lapes up the syrup making a sticky mess of her girlfriend’s neck. You let out little sighs and whines when Emily leaves bites along your supple skin.

Emily breaks away for a moment, meeting the your lust filled eyes. "taste good baby, so sweet" she whispers, she smirks and leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses along your sternum, her hot tongue feels like fire against your soft skin.

She takes the can again, spraying a large amount of cream on your other nipple, you could feel the wetness between your legs when her mouth assaulted your nipple, roughly licked over the pebbled bud, trapping it between her teeth, gently pulling it, the slight pain turning into instant pleasure, her tongue made sure to take the whipped cream as she did so.

She moves her head up and crashes her lips against yours, you can taste the sweetness of the cream on her lips, her tongue, a low whimper escaping your throat, she bites down on your lower lip, and uses her free hand to spray a long line of whipped cream all along your stomach.

She leaves your mouth to lick all the way down, her tongue licks your stomach all the way down to your lower stomach, taking your underwear off painfully slow.

Emily smirked and traveled lower to your navel. She ever so slowly licked up the whipped cream across your bikini line. The sweet smell of the sugar mixed with the scent of your arousal made Emily ache between her legs.

She kissed your stomach and lifted your left leg, resting it over her shoulder, eyeing your strawberry painted thigh hungrily. Your pink folds were slick and glistening with excitement, Emily drawls at the scene.

"You're soaked, baby" she whispers, and runs a finger through the slick, making you gasp. You admire the scene from your position, her eyes full of hunger, she licks her finger clean.

You bite your lip with excitement, you only want your girlfriend to dive in between your thighs and not come back for hours.

She turned and licked the smooth skin on your thighs, kissing and biting, leaving what sure would turn into purple spots by tomorrow.

As much as Emily wanted to tease you, she was getting as desperate now, she wanted to lick you up, she already knew you tasted better than any sugar.

She slowly toys at your aching clit with her fingers. Then she indulgently circles the rim of the tight entrance with the pads of her fingers.

You squirm, arching your back in protest of Emily's leisure. Satisfied with the non-verbal begging, your girlfriend curles her fingers inside you.

You buck your hips into her touch, desperately trying to create more friction.

Emily chuckles and runs her tongue from your knee to your inner thigh. A whimper escapes your lips, feeling your walls tighten around her extremities.

Once your legs are covered in saliva and the cream is almost completely gone, Emily licks her lips and admires the mess between your legs. 

“Ems please, I need you.” you beg, looking up at her pleadingly, with her seductive big brown eyes watching you.

Emily smirks and practically dives between your thighs.

You throw your head back and moan. The angelic sound only encouraged Emily more. She puts both your legs over her shoulders, as if desperate to keep you from escaping.

Emily sucks at your clit and slowly flicks over it with her tongue, all while thrusting her fingers inside those clenching walls, searching until she finds the spot that makes you scream. 

The wet walls surrounding her fingers spasm and clench around her.

“Em” you cry deliciously “right there, please don’t stop-”

Your girlfriend obliges. She can feel you getting close. Your thighs quiver with every thrust of her fingers. Your whines become increasingly shrill as your muscles squeeze.

“ Emily!” You gasp your lover’s name deliriously, your hands grabbing the sides of the table for some support.

You throw your head back as the wave of ecstasy overtakes you, arching your basck in pleasure, releasing loud whines of ecstasy.

Emily doesn't stop curling her fingers inside you until the spasms stop.

She pushes your legs off her shoulders and smiles at your soft and tired expression.

"Good?" she asks as she sees you finally opening your eyes again, you slowly regain conciousness after the strong orgasm your girlfriend had just given you

"perfect, like always, but now i'm all sticky" you answer, she moves next to you, and offers you her hand to help you, you grab it and get up from the table, surrounding her body with your arm for support

"shower then?" she asks as she peppers little kisses about your soft face for comfort.

You nod, Emily chuckles and gives your ass a firm smack, earning a purr from you. 

She wraps her arms around your neck, pulling your heads close to peck your lips softly, you walk to the bathroom attached to each other's body,

"C'mon, let's put to use the sugar rush" you say, pushing her inside the shower and lowering your head to kiss her neck.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

A/N: let's just pretend this isn't based on my thoughts every time i listen to "too sweet" by Hozier. I hope you enjoy, leave feedback is always appreciated <3

[servuscallidus]

Gazawi families that have reached out to me

@osama-family Osama Al-Anqar, his wife Rana Raed Al-Anqar and their infant daughter. It's unclear if they're moving with Osama's brother, Ahmed, who lost a leg, and the widowed wife and children of his other brother, Mahmoud, who has been martyred. They're extremely low on funds, 210/50.000£ . They're taking English pounds. gofundme. As far as I can see, it hasn't been vetted, but I don't have access to a pc rn so I could only do so much

@mohammedmoner. Muhammad, his wife Walaa and their four children: Fina (12), Salma (11), Omar (6), and Batoul (1). They need supplies and hope to be able to leave Gaza. €50/20.000 . gofundme. As far as I can see, it hasn't been vetted

@abedallhferwanagaza, operates also from @olaferwana. Ola Ferwana and her three children: Yaman (7), Qusai (5) and Mira (10 months). Her husband went to Egypt a few days before the war started and has been unable to reach them since. They need supplies until the Rafah crossing reopens. They have a tiktok. €1.549/35.000 . gofundme. Vetted

@abu-samir Shadi Sameer Ashour and his child, who needs surgery. €53/50.000. gofundme. Vetted

@eyad-alanqar255 Lyad is moving with the rest of his family and four children, his nephews Nasser, Jana, Mohammed and Hind. He's suffering from respiratory issues caused by phosphorus and needs medical intervention. €60/40.000. gofundme. Vetted

@mahmoudkhalafff. Mahmoud is currently studying in Ireland and is trying to help his family trapped in Gaza. His hope is that they may reach Egypt and temporarily settle there. The family is composed of eight members, some (I think four) of which are children. €23.815/30.000. gofundme. Vetted

@fatma--gaza Fatima Alnqar, Bilal Fader and their five children: Yazan (12), Fadl (11), Zina (10), Rajaa (7), Basma (1 ½). They need supplies.€5.272/20.000. gofundme. Vetted

@dinafamily1. Mohammed Abu Zour, his wife and their three kids. One of the kids has contracted hepatitis and his wife is pregnant and in need of a cesarean section. They're trying to leave Gaza. €1.056/30.000. gofundme. Vetted.

@hayanahed. Haya, her parents, her two brothers and her three sisters. Both Haya and her sister Amal suffer from allergies to penicillin derived medications. They're trying to leave Gaza. €80.644/100.000. gofundme. Vetted

@farohablogsworld, also @farah-mohanad. Mohanad and Farah, they're trying to rebuild their house and raise enough money to buy necessities. €1.313/32.000. gofundme. Links to their facebook and instagram. Vetted

@karamalmadhoun0, also uses @karamfamily0 and @karamalmadhoun2. Said, Basma and their children Eman, Karam and Mahmoud. They're trying to leave Gaza to rebuild a life and so that Karam can complete his education. €18,325/20.000. gofundme. Vetted

@familyetaf1234567. Etaf, her husband Youssef and her five children: Moataz, Moatasem, Maria (7), Adam (4) and Amira (3). They've escaped Gaza and are currently in Egypt but need money to pay rent, buy supplies and allow the children to continue their education. €2.008/50.000. gofundme. Vetted

@fattmawurd. Rawan Ayyad is trying to help her family escape Gaza. Donations are slowing down. 8,727/50.000 $ CAD. gofundme, use this link because not all the links on their blog work. As far as I can see it hasn't been vetted.

@drfarhatblog. Husam Farhat, his wife and their children: Sham, Muhannad and Muhammad. They're trying to leave Gaza to build a life in Malaysia. 9,319/29.500$ USD. gofundme. Vetted.

@haninahed. Hani Nahed, his wife Shirin and their children: Rital (12), Rawaa (10) and Nahed (6). I can't figure out if they're currently in Egypt or in Gaza, but they need money to buy supplies. €5/30.000. gofundme. Hasn't been vetted

@hebamatar124, also uses @hebamohammedsy and @heba-mater. Heba and her three children are trying to leve Gaza. One of the kids, Amir, has a serious skin disease that is worsening. 1,050/30.000$ CAD. gofundme. Hasn't been vetted, but the family is known by people with other, vetted, fundraisers.

@ahlamramadan, Ahlam, who has been suffering from kidney failure for the past years and needs medical help, her 10 children and 22 grandchildren. They are all currently living in a tent and need supplies and money to leave Gaza. €560/20.000. gofundme. Vetted

@abood-gaza2, Abood and his wife Maria, pregnant and in need of medical help. They're trying to leave Gaza. $8,819/40.000. gofundme. Not vetted, but Abood's brothers @/mohiy-gaza2, prev @mohiy-gaza, and @/ahmadresh, whose blogs are vetted, vouched for them.

@ahmedomar3, also uses blogs with ahmedomar followed by a number. Ahmed Al-Habil, his wife, their four children Omar (10), Khadija (9), Ali (6) and Zain (3), and Ahmed's elderly parents. €4,769/50.000. gofundme. Unvetted, although one of his terminated blogs might have been vetted, vouched for by his brother @/aya2mohammed (vetted)

@mohammed-swierh-2. Mohammed Abu Swierh, his wife and their children Mira (6), Bakr (3) and Maria (1). They're trying to leave Gaza and rebuild a life somewhere safe. 25.056/60.000$ USD. gofundme. Unvetted

@familygazaamal. Shaima and her four children Magdy, Walid (9), Abdel Rahim (8), and Amal. Her husband has been stuck in Egypt since the beginning of the war and they're trying to reach him and leave Gaza. 4.335/30.000$ USD. gofundme. Unvetted bu vouched for by @/asmaamajed2 (vetted)

@ahmadallouhahmad. Ahmad Al-Louh, his wife and their children Orhan and Helana, Ahmad's four siblings and parents are trying to escape Gaza. €6.573/50.000. gofundme. Vetted

I'll update the post with new gofundmes if I receive more asks, so check out the original post now and then

[ghost-bxrd]

In a previous post you said you had fic recs for the "Jason returns home" trope aka "presumed dead but it's just Jason having died that one time and they haven't found out he's back yet." Can you share those fic recs?

Hi anon! Of course!!! Here are some fics with this kind of premise 💚 make sure to read the tags first ✨

Money’s worth by @envysparkler

Give me a dream by @envysparkler

Homerun by @iselsis

Surprise visit by flames_dance

Until the levees fail by ellegrine

The dreams in which I’m dying by lockergirl

Barter by greeneyedfirework

Goon of the fucking year by AceOfDivineChlorophyll

[brewed-pangolin]

I'm sorry if I got you sick, I promise it ends at some point (maybe, probably).

For your brain chemistry pleasure, Captain Soap Mactavish would 100% act all stoic and emotionless most of the time.

But imagine the times when that shell breaks.

You two curled up in bed, you ranting about something mundane. Except it's a full body, "let me flail to show you just how annoyed I am" rant. He finds it endearing, cracks a small smile and cuddles you closer.

(And the "ITS NOT CUTE, IM BEING SERIOUS JONATHON")

I'm not gonna lie, I had a bit of fun with this one. Had to add a dash of brat taming at the end because it just felt right.

Hope you like it 💛

You had hit your wits end the moment your body sank into the bed.

Every stress, every snarky comment, every disgruntled maneuver that was thrown at you came bubbling up to the surface as the soft cushion of your mattress molded to your frame.

Leaning back into the array of pillows set around you and the strong arm of your John draped over your torso, you let loose. Released the levee of a pent-up rant as he laid silent and stoic as ever at your side.

"Today was awful, John. Just awful. The second I walked into the office, my boss was already breathing down my neck. Pressuring me with his usual bullshit, reminding me of the deadline like I can't see the calendar hanging behind my desk, and constantly interrupting my progress like he's got nothing better to do.."

You paused. Taking a much needed deep breath in a desperate attempt to calm your nerves.

John's arms tighten ever so slightly around your waist, and he leans in further, yet you pay no mind to his glacial encroachment.

The sudden air flow only fueled the fire of irritation as the demon inside took over once more and continued on with your raging tirade. Arms flailing, accentuating every syllable as your expression grew steadily more cantankerous.

"Then, when I was at the store, I asked an attendant where the baking section was because they clearly renovated and moved every aisle around. To which this disrespectful little twat waffle told me 'open my eyes and read the signs' like I'm some illiterate moron.."

Another breath. Stoke the embers. And release the demonic presence of aggravation within until fully cleansed.

John's eyes lit up at your relentless attack on the events of the day. A smile curling into the corners of his lips, running his fingers along the curve of your hip that you completely ignored as you continued with your verbal and seething regurgitation.

"And to top it all off, while on my way home, I got cut off by an absolute monstrosity of a truck that was clearly driven by a man making up for something. Nice truck, sorry about your dick and you drive like an ignoramus kind of man. And.."

You halted. Voice catching the cage of your throat as his hand gripped into the flesh of your hip.

Your eyes cast down to meet his bright and albeit boyish gaze as he stared up with endearing contentment.

"John. What are you doing?" You ask. Irritated bite to your bellowing bark.

"Ye so cute when ya let loose, m'lass. Cannae help but admire ya."

His soothing timbre at complete odds with the emotional blaze rippling off your tongue. Which only furthered your enraged fire, feeling is ripple beneath your skin and culminate within the depths of your lungs.

"I'm serious, John. Why are you being so obtuse. I'm-"

"Obtuse?" He interjects. Faltering your angered resolve with a single word.

His authoritative persona extinguishing the blaze within as he pulls you down into the bed, tearing an exasperated gasp from your chest as hemoves to cage you underneath his hulking frame.

"Perhaps yer in need of a little attitude adjustment, yeah? Need ta release tha' pent up demon a'yers in a different way, hm?"

"John, I-"

"Nah, m'lass. Not John-"

His rumbling voice traveled like a tremor through the thick density of your bones. And his eyes pierced your soul to easily pull back the rigid curtain of your fiery will.

"I'm yer Captain fer tonight. An' I'm gonnae tame tha' fiery beast a'yers. Understood?"

You nod in response. Finding comfort in his command underneath him as he tore your aggression away with every steely nuance to his words.

"Need ya t'say it, m'lass." He advised sternly. Settling himself between your legs, pulling the faintest whimper from between your lips.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now let yer Captain take care a'ya."

And thus began the taming of your fiery attitude that ended with a broken headboard and an overly satiated mouthy beast.

Captain MacTavish Masterlist