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cillianhead · 3 months

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oppie (cillian’s version) is a sub change my mind

i think oppie (cillian's version) is a freak in the sheets. (listen this is all just me daydreaming more about Cillian AS OPPIE just doing stuff BUT LIKE I DO SAY STUFF REFERENCING OPPENHEIMER KIND OF??? SO SORRY IF ANYTHING IS INCORRECT (tbh this ain't that freaky it's just me writing a short little random blurb lol) (also i sorta switch in and out of using she / you)... 18+ OBVIOUSLY MINORS DNI!!!)

i think he's probably more than happy to be a dom or a sub, he doesn't really care. I think he'd also be into being pegged by his woman or pulled around on a leash or slapped around. oppie is pretty open-minded and pretty eager to 'spice' things up. but this is all just me daydreaming

i can imagine you in the Los Alamos home, waiting for him in bed after a long day's work of telling men what to do. And finally... the time when he got told what to do... whether it be fuck her harder until his back aches or let him be the chew toy he usually was. she liked to joke she'd make him his own personal collar to go along with his clothes... and the thought of that did turn him on, not strange at all to him who stares into the making of the death of mankind. The idea of sex was something just as complicated and interlaced with deep intricacies we will never understand but also something more primal. Something that reminded him he was human. And fuck... staring into your sticky pussy you fiddle with as he starts to undo his tie was like frying every cell in that brain of his.

"No... keep it on..." You shake your head, fingers still drawing circles lazily on your clit barely teasing yourself as you lay there proudly for him. His eyes soaked in your body and how utterly breathtaking the sight of what lies in between your legs was. "I wanna pull you around on it..." "Well... yes, ma'am," He'll flare his nose in a tone of amusement as he tips his hat off to her and sets it down on the dresser as he unbuttoned his shirt. Robert would watch you in the mirror as you slid your sticky fingers to your thinly-veiled tits, slipping your fingertips under the lacy top and toying with your hard and incredibly sensitive nipples. You drove him crazy in the best of ways... in the ways he should be crazy. "Now don't look at me like that, bunny..."

"You're taking way too long to undo those buttons of yours..." You complain and he'll roll his eyes as he always does once he gets off his top pieces, he's undoing his belt and pants within a matter of seconds. His tie still around his neck as he stood fully naked and fully erect for you as you got up on your knees on the bed, perched up and facing him as you leaned in. You'd grab his chin and he'd feel how wet your fingers are. "Are you gonna behave tonight, daddy?" You asked, tilting your head as you yanked on his tie a little, enjoying the way he flinched.

"Yes, of course, my darling..." He nods desperately, mouth full of drool for your demands. "Tell me what to do and I'll do it... command me, I'm your slave." "Get on your fucking knees and beg..." You whisper harshly and then slap him across the face and he lets out a delightful sigh at the familiar burn and the handprint on his face. "You like that don't you..." As he collapses to his knees, Oppie nods and prays for you to give him something.

"Please... Y/N..." Oppie tries, head tilted slightly down as you lower your feet down to the floor and run your fingers through his short hair, treating him like a dog. "I'll be a good boy." You pulled his face to force him to look at your pretty pussy, close enough to smell but not close enough to taste... you were teasing him. "I beg of you..."

'Tsk Tsk Tsk' You shook your head with a smug grin on your face, swaying your hips and tantalizing him with his favorite view. "More."

"Darling," He pleaded, eyes so big and blue, he was defenseless to how he showed his emotions through the dread of the irises honesty. "Please let me taste you... I've dreamt about you in my head all morning and all afternoon..." "Dreamt of me?" You mused.

"In the daytime," He mumbles, trying to shake his head from your grasp like a feral dog trying to get at its prey. "I see flashes of you... pictures of you... traces of you everywhere... I see you in my mind wherever I go."

"How very romantic of you," You chimed, letting go of his hair to lean back on the bed and prop your legs up on his shoulder, spreading yourself out on display for him. His pupils expanded like black holes on the horizon of a dying sun that shone blue. "You can taste..."

No other words were said by him as he (for once) mindlessly dove in and buried his face into your wet cunt. Oppie wasn't sure there was a god up above but he knew this was heaven right here with his head between your thighs and your lips slipping his name loudly and endlessly.

He loved being bossed around, being possessed, it reminded him of his body, and for once not his mind.

??? did any of this make sense??? sorry??? lol

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #oppenheimer #oppenheimer x reader #oppenheimer smut #oppie #oppie x reader

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weirdworldofwinnie · 7 months

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A Darling Distraction

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only Oneshot

(Mood board by Selene Shelby @forgottenpeakywriter, this fic is especially for you, so I hope you enjoy! Thanks for the initial idea and support💕)

Summary: Robert's been married to you for a while and now in Los Alamos, after the last few years of hard work and a 'successful' Trinity Test, he desperately needs something he won't admit: his wife in pink satin lingerie and sexual stress relief.

Word Count: ~3,703

Warnings: Smut, unprotected and oral sex both ways, light daddy kink + breeding kink, some angst, mention of infidelity, period stereotypical gender roles, unspecified age gap (less than 10 years)

Disclaimer: Obviously NOT historically accurate to real life and is inspired by Cillian Murphy's portrayal of Oppenheimer in the film. It isn't supposed to be in total support and a complete reflection of the man's character, only my interpretation. Scroll away and DNI if you are uncomfortable or take issue with this; it is primarily for entertainment purposes only and it is just fantasy/fiction!

This is strictly a one shot story, no more will be added to it. If you want to read other Cillian!Oppenheimer fanfiction, check out my Masterlist

Tags: @happysparklingshadows (@forgottenpeakywriter wanted me to tag you), @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple, @irenethewoman, @noirrose21-blog, @gridmouse86

It had been less than 24 hours since the denotation of the gadget and Dr. Robert Oppenheimer's eyes had been engulfed in fire; the aftermath of a hot white flash as bright as a hundred suns blowing out his pupils, followed by a colorful mushrooming cloud that was somehow simultaneously beautiful and horrific. Between the hours before and after Trinity, he had thought of Jean and her influential poetry, and you of course, but now the bomb had become him and only that one vision filled his mind, haunting him.

All day he had been at the lab and offices, but mostly at the main mess hall celebrations that flowed with chatter and too many drinks shared amongst the military and scientists alike whom many believed had been witness to a great success, a miracle, but also the worst of humanity had just been born into creation. Oppenheimer had become what he supposed he had been destined to be all along: Prometheus, doomed to bring great power and advancement to humanity at a steep cost. He was the destroyer of worlds, but not technically yet, and that was the worst of it. The early morning test was exactly that; a trial, a preview of what was to manifest, and very soon would the world get to see such power he had helped birth. He desired peace, but the trick was he was only attaining that through warfare like never before. The stress was far from over and he was afraid to become a nervous wreck by the end of the decade with all these dark pervasive thoughts and doubts. Depression was nigh on the back of pressuring anxiety and there was no way anything would ever be the same again. He had changed, the world had changed, seamlessly overnight.

As he clumsily unlocked the front door to his home with slightly shaking fingers and stumbled inside, reaching up to remove his porkpie hat and hang it up on the coatrack, he called out your name hoarsely. After a beat of listening and there was no response, he sighed... Maybe you'd already gone to bed or were tucking in the children, whatever it was he didn't know and didn't care because he was too wrapped up in his own emotions. He felt ecstatic that all the hard work had come to fruition and they cemented history, but he was also at a paradoxical point of great accomplishment and great moral failure; the duality of man. But most importantly: it worked. Now what they would do with it was another matter he couldn't quit thinking about.

He reflexively twitched for a cigarette in his shirt pocket, but he was empty, so he walked to the bedroom single mindedly and fumbled for a box in the side table, yanking out the drawer and shifting through to pick up a pack of Chesterfield's.

"Darling?"

He jumped, spinning around with a huff and hand on his hip to see you standing in the shadows of the entryway and draped in a pink robe snug around your frame and he noticed your feet were bare as if you'd just been dressing.

"Y/N, I thought you were... Are the children in bed?"

"An hour ago, they were fussy and very insistent with missing Daddy, but once I read to them they finally settled down. You've been absent all day because of the test, what made you actually come home?"

He shook his head, finding relief and refuge in taking a long drag on the cigarette and blowing the smoke out, gesturing at you with the butt of it.

"You brought in the sheets like I told you to?"

"Of course, I knew."

"Good."

He moved to the edge of the bed and sat down heavily, rubbing his forehead and you noticed the tiredness he exuded for a man who usually was so attentive with higher energy levels, and how sunken in and sad his wide ocean eyes were. These past few years had taken a tremendous toll on his wellbeing more than ever... His jutting cheekbones and general gauntness were more pronounced with the unhealthy loss of weight and crinkles of wrinkles were all he truly kept gaining in eventual amounts; crow's feet, forehead lines, nasolabial folds, and etches under his eyes. His dark hair, kept meticulously cut short, was greying at the sides. Even his teeth, if inspected closely, were on a fast track to faintly showing signs of aging decay from all the smoking and drinking he did on a daily basis.

Robert was not the picture, nor rarely the temperament, of boyish youth you remembered from Berkeley.

Truthfully, you and him hadn't had proper sex in many months; it just wasn't very desirable or convenient between his never ending work that created distance between him and anyone who wasn't a scientist, the continuing socializing and parties with many other faces in town, and you personally spending days cleaning up and minding after little (often crying) children who did not have a clue of what their parents were doing out in the middle of the New Mexico desert surrounded by barbed wire fencing and uniformed men always patrolling. Life here was anything but boring, but the bedroom sure had become so. More often than not, Robert couldn't sleep soundly while you kept to your designated side of the bed and tried to ignore his tossing and turnings until eventually he doped himself up on sleeping pills to cope. He also hadn't been the same since the news of Jean Tatlock's passing and you highly suspected - no, knew - he had an affair during his trip to California once he had his security clearance approved. Of course it upset you he could be so idiotic and unfaithful, yet it wasn't shocking given his womanizing track record, but what made you more concerned was knowing how psychologically troubled Jean had been and if Robert thought he could offer her some consolation, he may have just made it worse and partly done her in. If he blamed himself for her death, you couldn't imagine carrying around that kind of guilt in addition to what he spent his time creating to end the war.

He stood now, restless, and began to pace an invisible groove into the flooring as he continually smoked and muttered to himself. You drifted away into the bathroom and shut the door, shrugging off your robe to the floor. You were completely nude underneath, coming off of a fresh bath and you had spritzed yourself with the best perfume you owned, hoping to surprise Robert, but something was clearly missing here.

Yes, and you know obviously what it is. It's his happiness, the spontaneousness that he has lost ever since he ran those calculations and went to Albert Einstein about a chain reaction igniting the atmosphere and blowing us all to bits. It was less than 0.1% chance, but it reminded him of the bigger issue... creating such a weapon with the power to destroy oneself was mighty weighty on any half decent man's conscience and even a rotten one's, for he too would be annihilated in the process if ever taken far enough. Everything these days was pure existential dread, no doubt about that, and no wonder Robert wasn't in the mood for love. His heart was being drained of it daily and you wanted to help, to fill him again even if just for once. It was difficult to watch him continually self-destruct and negatively affect those around him.

So you plucked up the ready matching pink folded satin lingerie he'd gifted you for the fifth wedding anniversary off the countertop and slipped into it, banking on the fact that it made you look sexually irresistible... And oh, it certainly did dial the appeal up to ten. You sauntered out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom where Robert was now seated on the bed, nose deep in a book and paperwork, clearly engrossed and a permanent frown was driven into his skin between his sculpted eyebrows.

"I have something for you, love," you announced softly as you leaned in the doorway, letting your body be on full display in such a loose, risqué little number.

"Hmm?" he murmured distractedly, haphazardly fluttering pages.

"Are you even reading any of that?" you asked flatly and he accidentally dropped it to the floor, hands still quivering and he tried to get up, wavering on his feet as you watched him in a strange state of both nerves cracking and drunkenness. You ached to make him better and by golly, tonight you would even if you had to throw yourself at him.

"Robert, don't you want to look at me? I have a surprise on..."

"I should pick this up and go to bed with a pill," he said to only himself, bending over and scooping the paperwork and book into his arms before standing unsteadily and he turned his back, carelessly dumping the materials onto the side table. You quickly strode up behind him and slid an arm around his waist, fingers drumming on his metal belt buckle splashed with a tinge of turquoise design.

He froze as you wound a bare leg around one of his and he reached behind his back, brushing your scantily clad silky bottom, fingers gliding over the fabric and making you moisten.

"The lingerie, you're wearing it," he stated and you couldn't quite tell if he was delighted by this or not.

"So I am, I know it's been a while since you gifted me with it, so tonight I thought I'd finally return the favor after the amount of stress we've been under, especially you."

"You-you're proposing I need... oh no. No, I don't know if I'm, uh, ready-no, I don't know if I-I can, I mean do-handle it-" he stuttered out and you fought a laugh. Oppie the great improviser, the genius, the man always in control of the proverbial cockpit was ironically clearly not thinking all that straight tonight and for once in his life, absolutely tongue-tied. You may not have much power as a housewife (that earned psychology degree had been so far deemed useless once you moved with him and had children) in this godforsaken place, but you had this way of melting your husband to molten lava that no one else was capable of. His mouth utterly agape, you ran your hands around the leather of the belt and snaked another leg around his, squeezing gently into his side as you put your lips close to his ear, murmuring.

"You know that we both need it, so just let me work my magic like a good old fashioned whore..."

He bristled, catching your hand still fondling his belt and pushing away lightly.

"I would never refer to you as that," he said, completely unamused and perhaps with a veil of disgust too that you thought seemed unnecessary.

"What am I, then, just the stoic scientific director's wife who will be at your side when you receive a Nobel for your work in stopping the world from global conflict with explosions and implosions?"

His sharp jaw clenched and in one swift motion, he abruptly fell over sideways onto the bed and you startled, leaning over and gripping at his shoulder, worried.

"Oh, Robert, are you sick? I was just being a bit sarcastic."

He closed his eyes, obviously in some sort of internal turmoil that didn't merit sharing fully.

"No, I just... We don't need to do this, not now, not when I'm having a pretty bad time. I'm fatigued, probably drunk, and I should talk to the General tomorrow about the schedule. I'll be wanting to fly to Washington soon; the President will be expecting a briefing and they need to determine the exact target and then once it's all over we'll need to settle somewhere else and..."

He began to murmur anxiously about all the engagements he was expecting (postwar and not) and you shook your head, pushing down on his chest.

"But don't you want a distraction, a temporary all consuming joy for one night?" you pressed and he finally looked up at you, really gazed at you, and a genuine buttery smile spread across his mouth.

"Come here, my love," he whispered while tugging at the lingerie panty bow unsuccessfully and you clamored onto the bed beside him. He paused, licking his lips, and then spoke too briskly.

"We'll get straight to it and once I finish, it should help me sleep naturally better than those prescriptions."

You sat up, shoving him playfully and scowling.

"That has to be the least sexist statement you've ever said to me in the bedroom. Don't you want a marathon, not a sprint? Enjoy me, Robert. That's what I'm really here for anyhow, your darling distraction."

He took this in, then rolled over on top of you, his hot alcohol and nicotine infused breath on your cheeks as he breathed heavily, and you made a cringing face.

"How many drinks have you had today? You smell of a bar and I'm thinking you should rinse your mouth out before you get the luxury of having me."

"You do, hm? I guess that's a command, Mrs. Oppenheimer," he smirked and sat up, shoving off to the bathroom and you went to go put on a record on the turntable in the living room. The classical music crackled through and you walked back to the bedroom, laying into a seductive position onto the bed, one leg propped up with a bent knee and your arm draped across the headboard.

When he came back, his eyes widened at the sight of you as though it was finally registering and he wet his lips again, unapologetically hungry. He moved to the bed, shrugging his suit jacket off to drop to the floor, taking off his black tie, and mindlessly undoing the buttons on his white shirt. That was quickly discarded as you waited for him to remove his socks and shoes, pretending to be impatient by switching position to cross your legs and checking your manicure.

"Hurry up, Oppie, I have a time limit here."

He shook his head disapprovingly, kicking the shoes under the bed and whipping off his belt, tossing it to the floor with a clunk before wrestling out of his trousers and you stared at his boxer clad skinny frame, the cock not even engaged yet... Looks like he's making you do all the work again. A petulant sigh escaped when you rolled your eyes and he pointed a finger, chastising.

"Patience, my love. Hasn't Daddy taught you anything at this point?"

You bit your lip as he leaned over and his bare chest collided with yours... You pulled him into an antsy kiss, mouths crushing each other needily and he tasted of tobacco and toothpaste, a strange combination, but better than before. You felt the slight sheen of cold water he had splashed on his skin transferring to yours and you gripped his neck, fingers splaying across the back of his head.

His own hands went to fondle your covered breasts and you pulled away from his kiss for a moment.

"You are divinely doll like in this, I love such feminine expression," he murmured in a kind of rapture.

"Shame it has to be stripped of me," you whispered with raised eyebrows.

"It's only garments, what really counts is here..." He suddenly squeezed both your breasts and you let out a spurt of high pitched noise, allowing him to remove the top, shimming it off your body in one motion and tossing it over his shoulder where the strap caught on the bedpost.

He thumbed over one nipple and then transferred to the other, teasing you to rock hard nubs. He moved to your panty, slipping it down and off to expose you, and you kicked it to the end of the bed. Then, in turn, you yanked down his underwear and his cock sprung out into your ready grip. You began to pump on it and getting him to a more erect state, rising up. He groaned lightly and you pulled the oozing tip to your mouth, parting lips and flicking your tongue out to carefully lick a strip along the length before taking head, making him grow stiffer and wetter by the minute. Your mouth popped of his length, swallowing, and he gripped your waist as he focused hard on you over his throbbing member.

"What do you want, my love? Do you want me?" he whispered huskily and you shivered in anticipated arousal.

"Yes, darling, I want you... I need you, you own me and I own you."

"Sounds like a fair arrangement," he breathed before crushing into you and began to rub, purely animalistic, all over your smooth body. His head burrowed down into your freshly shaved pussy just like how you and him liked it clean, licking at your folds and massaging your lower abdomen in a desperate frenzy. You dug nails into his hair, curling, and bucked your hips to meet his appetite when he slowly slithered on top. You groaned as you took him, all of him, and let his penis expand and stretch out your core to the fullest extent, clenching instinctively around the shaft as he thrust repeatedly until you were sent easily right over the edge in freefall.

"Mmm, Robert!" you squealed in ecstasy and he muffled you, hand slapping down over your mouth and shushing insistently.

"Shh, don't need to wake the children now. God knows they'll find Mommy and Daddy intimately together one of these days and be scarred for life at the sight." He chuckled as you whined behind his palm and grooved further at a pace you both knew very well. After years of marriage and sensual exploration, he knew all your sweet spots and sensitivities, when was too much, and yet it was taking all his self control not to completely plow you apart right now. His skin smacked against yours as he ground into you, hands everywhere at once and he peppered wet kisses all along your jaw to nape.

When his warm cum finally jetted into you, flooding in your cervix fully, you were unable to constrain a loud moan and he growled primally, his whole small frame shuddered through his own climax as you gripped his back, using his boney spine as placeholders for your fingers as he rocked further at a steady pace, not going to come out right away.

More orgasms came fast and one after the other, especially as you rolled over and he took his place beneath and you rode his cock in a fervor, letting the peak hit all over again and he watched in a dazed nirvana as you pleasured. When he finally pulled out from your used leaking hole, you could tell how satisfied he was having been able to hopefully successfully seed you and that signature smugness was so evident.

You laid panting at his side as he took up another smoke, struggling to keep his eyelids from closing and drifting off to sleep. You interweaved legs, soaking wet with combined fluids dripping onto the sheets, and he flit a free finger down to your soaked pussy, groping and nearly overstimulating you with another orgasm you didn't think could be as strong as the first. He grinned at the effect and cupped your mound with his palm, dominant of it as he spoke softly.

"Groves pointed out that I have no knowledge of birth control, which is true. By this rate, you'll be having yet another baby in nine months and I can only hope we are far from this current landscape and political climate then, never to return. You know, I'm hoping for another boy this time."

You sighed with a smile, rubbing your belly and his hand joined yours, rubbing circles over your navel.

"You make a wonderful mother," he commented in praise and you laughed lightly, bitterly, and glanced at him.

"I'm not perfect, I can barely hold it together these days when they're hungry, tired, and upset for no reason I can physically see at all... Sometimes I wish to wring their necks quite honestly. And you're very hardly the model father yourself when you are always away and hardly take care of them. I know the work is everything, but they need genuine paternal love more than your science to save them."

He shrugged, nonplussed, and then set his wispy cigarette to the ashtray before leaning his head against yours.

"We are probably horrible people, but I wouldn't have it any another way. To create life with you is more than I could selfishly do alone, for obvious reasons untold."

You laughed again at his dry humor and intertwined your body with his own, wishing you could crawl inside his skin and live in his bone structure. He was absolutely everything to you, even on bad days, and maybe his prestige and stability contributed to that, but there was real love underneath his flaws.

"Whatever you face, I'll be here to try to mitigate it," you whispered seriously and he nodded, appreciative.

"I trust you and I love you, Y/N. It won't get easier for me, for us, and I'm afraid the future may be as horrifying as I imagine it."

"That's why we have sex, to stave off the inevitable for a little while," you told him, tears pushing out and slipping down your cheeks. He caught one with his finger and wiped it clean off, staring at the translucent wet spot at the tip of his fingernail sadly. It wasn't unusual for you to weep after sex, but this felt different.

"Kiss me," he murmured and you leaned forward as he grabbed the back of your head and smooshed in, tongues writhing together for a few seconds before you both pulled away, breathing in the same air together.

"Tonight is good enough for me," he decided and you snuggled into his neck, closing your eyes to succumbing exhaustion.

In an uncertain frightening world full of variables, you vowed to be his one constant for life.

Thanks for reading 🖤

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auteurdelabre · 3 months

Text

“SLEEP” - Joel Miller x f!Reader

summary: A stranger becomes your passenger heading into the desert at night.

rating: 18+

Words: 2.2k

Tags: I can’t do tags cuz of spoilers, but if you don’t like creepy scary stuff I suggest you scroll past.

a/n: Had this story brewing in my head for months, finally put pen to paper… or fingers to keyboard if you prefer.

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

Your vehicles kiss before you do.

Baked against the asphalt your sandals slap against the unforgiving terrain. A long day of processing car rentals for tourists who are just dying to see The Alamo while wearing stiff felt cowboy hats.

Walking around the perimeter of dented Kia's as men with greasy smiles ogle your ass and call you sweetheart.

And finally changing out of your polyester uniform and into your denim skirt and softest band t-shirt as you prepare to head home silently willing the AC in your car to magically come back to life in the eight hours since you're shift started.

Like some dark blue bastion amongst the neutral sea of cream colored vehicles sits the blue truck.

The blue truck that was there at six this morning. The truck that you assumed would be gone by the time you got off your shift. The truck that you'd slid in next to tightly because it was parked in your spot and with little sleep and no coffee in your system that had pissed you off.

"Parked pretty close there," comes the lazy drawl of the wide shoulder-ed man leaning against the hood of The Blue Truck.

He's beautiful in that modern cowboy sort of way that some men wear with ease and others like a costume. The kind of quiet masculinity that comes with broad shoulders and oversized hands. His green t-shirt is sweat-soaked around the neck, under the arms, a thin strip of dark green down his spine.

He looks approachable and formidable all at once. Like those creatures in the zoo that you long to pet and kiss, but know that in an instant you would be eviscerated by their razor sharp fangs and claws.

You don't offer anything other than a simple nod, a brief thing that might have been nothing at all as you shuffle to the driver’s side of your shitty car with its dents along the fender and rust spots around the wheels. One of those things that look okay far away but up close you can see the damage, a symbolism you are both too familiar and revolted by.

The man watches you from behind aviators tinted the same shade as the truck.

"Your car?"

"Sure hope so," you tell him in a voice that says don't push me under a veneer of pleasant plumes like sickly perfume.

His eyes are hidden behind those tinted sunglasses but you know they'll be sharp like the edge of a razor glints. You don't need to see them to know they travel your body like a road map picking out destinations along the way. You imagine the curve of your breast is a landmark he wants to pull over and stay awhile.

He sucks his teeth as you force yourself into your car, exhaling sharply at the muggy heat envelops you. You feel the man's eyes on you as you prepare to twist the key into the ignition. You consider leaving without another word, letting this moment linger on the periphery of flirtation.

But you've always been greedy for more.

The man is still watching you, brow rising as you roll down the passenger window.

"You wanna grab a drink?"

Sweat drips down your back, down your temples, down the valley of your breasts. Every second the ticks by a held breath, an anticipation of rejection.

"Sure."

His duffel bag is retrieved from the bed of his truck and tossed into your back seat with a thwump.

His shoulder touches yours in the small cabin of your car. The key twists, the same motion you hope to use on his cock later. The vehicle rumbles awkwardly to life, wheezing and gasping as it takes off into the sun-drenched afternoon.

The windows are lowered before you even make it out of the parking lot. The sun begins to set in the lazy meander to the bar.

"Should probably know your name," you muse as the passing landmarks grow fuzzy.

"Joel."

The radio dial is moved to a crackling station that reminds you of a time before life got too loud. A time with hushed voices and homemade peanut butter cookies that stuck to the roof of your mouth. You hum lowly, eyes peeking to see Joel's curious expression.

"Old car, old shirt, old tunes," the deep voice makes note.

"I like older things," you say with curled lips that urge him to parse the double meaning. "Always have."

He hums an amused reply, dark eyes sliding like a snake over your features. When he smiles it doesn't reach both sides at the same time. It curls a little to the left, giving him a smirk that dances on the edge of playful.

"What else d'ya like?"

"Fucking."

It's overt and vulgar and it sends a thread of desire through your center that knots directly below your pussy and tugs brutally.

"Seems we have a lot in common," the man says with a smile that shows his pearly teeth. Teeth too perfect for the rest of his tanned face.

You drive on past the city limits with wind that combs through your hair like a mother's gentle soothe, not that you would know from experience. It's the information you've gleaned from paperbacks with yellowed pages or movies with string based soundtracks.

"You mind if we hit up this bar I like?" You ask in a voice of cherries and cream, sour and sweet. "S'a little further out."

"Don't mind at all," Joel rumbles huskily with a voice that drizzles down your spine like sweet molasses. "Got nowhere to be."

"Makes two of us."

You move down the highway in your shitty car like a blood clot. You take the long way, enjoying how the chill of the encroaching night starts to slip under your skin. A familiar stretch of barren desert greets you like an old friend, heralding you from the empty highway.

"Isolated," Joel says in a voice that sounds almost amused as you park under a familiar tree. "Thought you wanted a drink."

"Not so thirsty after all," you drawl as you unbuckle your seat belt. His is already off or maybe it was never on to begin with.

He watches you from behind his sunglasses with all the still of a rattlesnake, coiled and waiting to strike. When you crawl into his lap and suck his tongue into your mouth he retracts his fangs, trading venom for the sweetness of your saliva.

In the reflection of his sunglasses you could be drowning. When you tear them off his face you swim in the warmth of his dark eyes instead.

"Pretty," you murmur, noting the pupils blown wide, giving you a warped view of your tired face.

When you slide the knife out from under his seat it's barely a thought. The weapon is just an extension of your tired body that moves like your elbow or fingers.

When you raise its glinting steel to Joel's lean neck, fresh arousal floods you. You can taste in the air, tangy and sharp. But that might just be the tension.

"Gimme your wallet or I'll slice your throat," you say in a voice devoid of emotion as you press the blade just under his jaw. Two angles just as sharp.

You're perplexed by his calm countenance. He looks at you like a vulture with carrion, hungry and eager.

"You don't want my wallet."

"Oh no?" Your smile is fierce. Your blood is rushing through your veins, dizzying you.

This makes you feel awake. It makes you forget men who appraise you like cattle. It makes you forget about the dingy apartment you can barely afford. It makes you forget that the cloying heat of the day is nothing compared to the oppressive endlessness of the nights.

"Nah," comes the man's slow and steady cadence. "You want blood. I reckon even if I gave you my wallet you'd still slit my throat for the pleasure of it."

"How do you figure that?"

"Cuz that's what I like too," he says and now you realize his smile looks feral. Like the crazed animals you've seen in national geographic magazines.

Your reply catches in your throat. "Liar."

"Check my back right pocket if you don't believe me."

The cheap leather of his seat groans when you press your chest against his. He breathes in warm huffs over your face, like he's stoking your internal fire.

Your hand slides down over the rough denim of his jeans. He shifts his hips until your palm slides over his back pocket and the unmistakable outline of something metal is unearthed against your fingertips.

You retrieve it, hissing when your thumb catches onto the edge of its fine blade. It's a straight razor, the kind out of old movies. Ruby droplets bubble up on your digit as you drop the offending weapon.

Joel's mouth moves forward and before you can deny him he takes your thumb into his wet mouth. You sit hypnotized by the sensation of his tongue tracing your thumbprint, laving spit into every whirl of your fingerprint.

When he removes your thumb he does so leisurely, dragging it down over his full bottom lip enticingly. It shows you his crowded bottom teeth like tilted books on a forgotten shelf.

His hand moves to your wrist and you know he sees the flutter of uncertainty cross your features like a cloud. He waits for the storm as his fingers encircle the wrist that grips the knife.

He moves your tensed arm, urging the knife towards where it formerly sat against his jugular. He continues to tug you slowly until the blade almost bites into his flesh and until the tip of your nose touches the slope of his.

Then his large hand moves back to join the other at your hips, thumbs making small rubbing motions that rasp against the denim.

You sit in his lap, held by him, eyes jotting over his handsome face before settling on that endless gaze of his.

He stares back at you, vision tilting as he regards you in the same shrewd fashion. Like two predators in the jungle coming to a silent agreement, a lack of contrition. In his eyes you see a reflection, a mirror and then a kinship.

"Why?"

"It sustains me," is the murmured reply.

He’s trying to be poetic. You cut through that quickly.

"Because you like it."

"I do." The shark smile is back. "Blood droplets like rubies n' all that."

"What else do you like, Joel?"

"Fuckin"."

You don't wholly trust him and you don't lower your knife from his throat. But that doesn't stop him from taking your body right there in the passenger seat. He doesn't break his eyes from yours as he maneuvers his hand under your skirt to find you honeyed and waiting.

His hands made for brutality touch you with reverence like you're a precious vessel instead of a forgotten story. It makes you think of kintsugi, that all your cracks are being mended with the gold flecks in Joel's eyes.

The moon is hung low and swollen in the sky, bathing you and Joel in an unearthly glow. It lets you see his handsome face break into a rapturous grin when you tug at his belt and part your thighs to take him deep. It allows you the vision of Joel's eyelids fluttering as you punch out his name between gasps as the heat and pleasure consumes you.

He makes you cry out in the rising moonlight like some monstrous she-wolf that feeds on men with soulful eyes. His neck tilts back as he comes, exposing the column of his tanned throat, a sacrifice, an unspoken oath.

You keep the sharp tip of the knife touching the edge of his angled jaw, faltering only once when he winds his broad palm around the back of your neck and tugs your lips to his. He kisses you slow and tempered with a mouth that’s full and searching for something you find you want to give.

You pull back as you lower the weapon. There seems little need for it now. You expect the man whose lap you sit upon will show his hand. That he will push you from him and take off into the night, disappearing from your life just as swiftly as he entered it.

Instead his gentle smile remains, no longer carnivore. It's a serene thing, a calm thing, like the placid surface of an undisturbed lake.

"I'm tired of travelin' alone," he presses into the hollow of your throat, sucking gently. It makes your skin prickle like the blue black cacti out your window.

"You sayin' you want company, Joel?"

"If you wanna give it."

You don't answer right away and instead of irritation from the taut string of anticipation, Joel watches you, reading the pages of your life in your expression, the way you hold your mouth, and the way your shoulders slump forward.

You're so tired.

"Sleep," he tells you, moving a strand of hair from your eyes. His thumb catches on your lower lip, testing its pliant, petal softness. "I'll drive."

You've never let another person touch this car. Never let another person tuck you into the passenger seat with his flannel draped over you like a hug. Never let someone place their hand over your thigh and squeeze reassuringly as they palm the wheel and guide you to an unknown future.

And yet tonight you do.

With Joel you do.

And you sleep.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #joel fanfic

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hometoursandotherstuff · 6 months

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Here's an unusual property for work & play- basically you're buying a giant 40 foot diameter sphere in the desert of Yucca, Arizona. The dome is currently a ''UFO museum'' open to the public. BUT- A new project with storage, rv park, and an MX Professional Park for all ages will be developed right next to this ONE OF A KIND FACILITY! $1.375M. Terms are cash (?) or the owner will carry the loan. (So, in other words, it doesn't qualify for a bank loan.)

The property has a C-store and a fully operational restaurant called ''Rocket Burger.''

They don't specify if the things in the museum come with it.

I don't know, there doesn't seem to be much in here. A few displays, t-shirts for sale, souvenirs, and a couple arcade games.

A new exhibit under construction.

The Rocket Burger facility is nice. It has a full professional kitchen.

I don't know, it looks like a failing business. Maybe if and when they build the other facilities it will pick up, but right now it looks pretty dead.

The property measures 2.19 acres. There is some kind of large business and housing development nearby.

But, the rest is vastly desolate.

#desert property #desert business for sale #unique property #unusual property #other stuff

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lingering-42-long · 2 months

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Quick idea.

Alejandro in his free time meets a woman from Las Almas, a cowgirl. They met at a rodeo (in my head it makes a lot of sense for him to go to one of those.) She was doing the barrel races and all her skill caught his attention. They talk, he asks her out and one thing leads to another 😎

One wild ride

Alejandro x female Reader

I really fun when that was requested by a good friend of mine who always gives the best requests! I’m starting to do requests again. It is taking some time though, so please be patient. Thank you to everyone!

Please comment like and share my work. It helps get me out there as well as inspire me to do more! Engaging with the author means a lot for us!

Warnings: 18+, if you are under 18 do not interact!, alcohol induced sex, consensual sex, unprotected sex, v and p sex, cowgirl sex.

The rodeo is in full swing. Los Alamos was hosting their annual North American rodeo. The rodeo would actually go through Canada, United States, Mexico, and even into parts of Central America. It was renowned for some of the best world class writers from the Americas, and even parts of Europe. The usual bull round ups, barrel racing, bull riding, bronco riding, and clown, running from all of the experts. This was also a great time for many of the people in nearby towns, and cities to also be auctioning off their livestock ranging from cattle to horses, goats, and even chickens.

Rudy and Alejandro had made their way to the rodeo. It would be a three day events and many of the soldiers and recruits were already there as well. Rudy practically had to drag Alejandro because he was so stuck up in his work. He almost forgot about the darn thing, he did enjoy going to these events, but it was sometimes rather difficult with his schedule.

Arriving at their seats, they made it to the women’s barrel racing. Wild normally he wasn’t a huge fan of barrel racing. He always did appreciate the talent and work into it. Some name was said with the rider coming out. She was from (y/c). He watched her intently as she moved her horse left over right up down, all around the barrels, her horse had the second fastest time only beaten by another Mexican woman.

After a days, long of events, Alejandro and Rudy went to a local bar when they hung out with some of their friends, laughing and talking about lifestyle and today’s events. Alejandro recognized the girl that was sitting at the bar, drinking tequila and looking around. “Your the girl in the rodeo from Brazil right?” He asked her. “Oh yes!” Her English was fluent it sounded like it could’ve been her second language with how easy she spoke it. “I was raised in Brazil however nowadays I live in Cancún when I’m done traveling.” She smiled glad to talk to somebody. Alejandro got to know her, she was smart, witty, funny, had a beautiful laugh, sparkling eyes… the more the talked to her the more his heart pounded in his chest. The alcohol was working its intoxicating magic.

By the end of the night Alejandro had taken her to his Ranch, out in the countryside, a quaint little home perfect for a bachelor. Their kisses were hot, and the touching of each other’s heat only made them want each other more. Alejandro laid in bed as she began to grind on his hard groin, the moans and the smell of sex was enough to cause him to become more hard.

As skillfully as he could he took off her clothes as she fumbled with his button down shirt. He helped her with his pants and started bucking into her wet folds. Her moans were soft and music to his ears. “Show me what you can do Cowgirl~” he moaned as she stuffed his girth in her. After some adjusting, she began to rock slowly at first but started picking up the pace.

Alejandro held onto her hips and bucked into her, his head tilted up and mouth agape as he moved his large rough hands up her small frame to her breasts and began to gently rub her tender nipples. The moans encouraged him more as he bucked into her tight cavern. Soon she came with him, he leaned her down in a passionate kiss as their bodies gave into one another.

Alejandro stroked her sweaty hair and gave her a sweet kiss. “Was that good?” He asked.

“Yeah wow, that was intense… I loved it.” She giggled. He pulled out and cuddled with her for a bit before getting up and helping her to the bathroom so they could shower.

After showering he made her some tea as he fixed the bed and got her some warm pajamas. He cuddled once again and praised her until they both fell asleep.

What an amazing wild ride.

#cod x reader #cod x you #x reader #cod #alejandro mw2 #alejandro cod #alejandro x reader #alejandro vargas #sexy content #18+ post #mw2 cod

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immaducky2 · 5 months

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hello!!! I'm sharing some of my WTTT headcanons now because I have no idea what else to post!

- Tennessee has one giant family gathering atleast once or twice a year, like on the fourth of July, Christmas, or Thanksgiving. When they all do get together, atleast one ambulance is called.

- Maryland has monthly bonfires with Virginia and West Virginia. Sometimes Pennsylvania comes as well.

- Georgia owns every single jersey for the Bulldogs past and present; he's been collecting since the team started out.

- Florida keeps a gator in the house; California has yet to find out about it.

- Gov has a cat that is extremely fluffy.

- Alaska hand makes dog beds for his huskies. He even embroiders their names on them.

- Maryland will drive literal days to avoid going on a plane (he is terrified).

- Alaska wears jean short shorts and a sleeveless shirt in the snow.

- Washington takes allergy meds year-round to help with his allergies; it doesn't actually help.

- Pennsylvania has scars from the Battle of Gettysburg.

- Texas 100% has a tattoo that says "Remember the Alamo".

#welcome to the table #wttt #wttt florida #wttt texas #wttt california #wttt pennsylvania #wttt tennessee #wttt alaska #wttt washington #wttt gov #wttt georgia #wttt maryland #wttt virginia #wttt west virginia #wttt headcanons #ben brainard

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donnerpartyofone · 27 days

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So what happened yesterday was, I had stupidly run out of the methylphenidate ER dose that I'm currently on, and decided to take two of the lower dose that I had left over from before. (Ironically I completely flaked on a doctor's appointment for the first time in my life when I was supposed to get the current script refilled, I just got so sick I forgot what was happening, but if you're going to flake on a doctor's appointment I guess it might as well be an ADHD appointment) I thought that the "slightly higher" dose from the two pills wouldn't bother me, I mean I've taken drugs before, but about half way through the day I was suddenly struck with a jarring, physical panic. Fortunately my blood pressure cuff thing didn't say I had to rush to the hospital, but I remained on high alert for the rest of the day and night, which may have colored my perception of what happened.

(don't get too excited, it's just weird)

I took the ferry to see my friend's demonic horror movie (the ferry is a highly underrated form of local transit, it is awesome especially on a rainy night), which was cute, and I love being at the movies even though you always run the risk that other people will taint your experience. Even the religious dogma of the Alamo Drafthouse doesn't stop people from being assholes, and sure enough as soon as a couple of young women (early 20s? idk) sat next down next to me, I started to smell this hot, spitty, artificial sweetener smell, and I realized oh no this bitch is chewing gum. I have a good amount of misophonia and gum is my enemy in any circumstance, but the girl was fully snapping the gum and blowing bubbles for the first 15-20 minutes of the movie. (She had to get rid of it when their cookies arrived) That was a tough one because even if I were the kind of broad who picks fights with strangers, it would be hard to win a fight about chewing in a business that is serving food...but anyway when the server came through to get them situated, they had some sort of altercation that left them both in hysterics. The second the lights came back on they both started ranting about how the server was sooo mean to them because apparently when they sat down one of them took her shoes off, and she was told to put them back on. This girl is going "I'M GONNA LOOK THAT UP AND SEE IF IT'S A REAL RULE! I BET IT'S NOT EVEN A RULE!" as if "no shirt no shoes no service" hasn't been a national punchline for decades and it's just a random and petty punishment that certain eateries uphold to be perverse. I guess also when the guy asked to pre-swipe a card for them so they wouldn't have to pay in the middle of the movie they didn't understand him and that made them mad, and then they were mad that he put the cookies on "the wrong table" (the one between them) as if they weren't both eating them. Like ok guys, I was young once, I too have been rude and been mildly corrected by an adult and been so humiliated that I had to make up a big story about how the adult is an insane person who hates me personally. I was 12 once, too. But holy shit you are old enough to get into this late R-rated movie, do your parents usually take you or what the fuck is your problem?

So as I was leaving I looked up the best way to get home (too late for ferry) and the apps were all giving me a big red Storm Warning warning that I had never seen before and suggesting that trains were running very irregularly or not at all until tomorrow. Outside it was warm and misty, not remotely as stormy as it had been when I arrived. What was going on? I got lost going to what was supposed to be the station with the earliest train, went into the station with the MOST trains, and just decided to just take whatever train came first going in the vaguely-right direction. The world outside the theater seemed to have become very apocalyptic while I was in there, and I was intensely watching my back. When I saw a tall thin woman all in black shuffling down the platform, I did a double take; my first impression was that her face was covered in blood. When I looked again I saw that she had bright red, very wet makeup of some kind smeared from her nose to her chin. The rest of her face was covered in a similar substance that was pitch black. She was not white, is the only other detail I was sure of. I couldn't evaluate the situation. Is this a performance? Is she dangerous? Is she in danger? What should I do? My train came before I could figure it out.

gif by @brody75 stupid tumblr wouldn't give it to me normally

A few stops later, the apps said that I should go outside and get a bus that would come in 25 minutes. Ugh, but at least it's coming. As soon as I got outside the apps said that I should have stayed underground and taken another train that was coming in 1 minute. I couldn't even run back in for that because the machine had done something fucked up to my card when I tried to refill it and I was forced to use the transfer for the bus, oh fucking well. So I'm waiting for the bus and I see this other bus coming from the opposite direction with its display flashing "EMERGENCY - CALL 911". I've been living here for a long time and I had never seen anything like that. Was it a real instruction for me? Or was it one of our cop-obsessed mayor's many advertisements for the cops that seem to be everywhere, constantly telling you where are the nearest cops to every location and how you should go find them and give them something to do? The bus pulled up to its stop across the street and I could see that there was just one passenger on it. It seemed scary. A load of people got on at that stop, I wanted to think at least one of them had a uniform on but I wasn't sure. At that moment my bus pulled up. I let everybody else on first and then I told the driver, "That bus across the street is flashing a CALL 911 sign." I thought he would know what to do. Drivers seem to look out for each other. He just stared at me. It was the blankest stare I'd ever seen. He didn't move and he didn't make a sound. I repeated myself and I pointed "That one, over there, is he ok?" ...or whatever I said, I was kind of freaking out. He just nodded, once, and kept staring at me. Then he put it in drive and I sat down.

also @brody75

I had wanted to spend all night working on this project I'm under deadline for--I might as well with all the extra amphetamines in my system--but I could no longer concentrate. I felt like I was in Jacob's fucking Ladder. I also felt like a complete asshole for not helping anyone. I don't know. I never know what to do. I'm constantly getting lost and I have no money and I'm small and clumsy and I don't feel safe with strangers and I don't automatically trust cops and I'm also fairly stupid and cowardly and I don't know how anything works. It's hard for me to imagine taking charge of any situation even when it seems like the choice should be obvious because of instructions or just decency. Also when you start helping people when do you stop? I often think of this standup bit by [cancelled comedian I don't want to argue about] where he describes a younger relative visiting him in the city for the first time, and she's shocked by the first really dire homeless person she sees in Port Authority. She goes rushing over to him and when the comedian stops her she says, "You mean he doesn't need our help?" and he says "Oh no, he needs you desperately! We just don't do that here." And I mean yes, ha ha cynicism, but it's more like how do you even begin to deal with individual instances of a problem that is so huge and ubiquitous that even the large support systems in place can barely handle it. One time in the dead of winter I posted a picture of a pigeon that was so puffed up it was hilariously huge and spherical, and someone scolded me about how "that's a baby" and if I see it again I should transport it to a rehab center. They obviously didn't understand the scale of the photo and must have mistaken the puffery for juvenile down, but it's also like, if I start helping pigeons when will it stop? I've helped a number of animals either get out of a snag or get to rehab when they were obviously incapacitated or sick, but if I lowered my threshold of intervention to "a pigeon that looks cold or uncomfortable", it would never end. Technically probably every rat and pigeon in the city needs some kind of medical attention, they say rats here have diseases that haven't even been identified by science, but what's the actual, rational response for individual citizens?

Anyway I have totally ruined my own weird freaky spooky one-crazy-night anecdote with this awkward musing about what people are supposed to do for each other, and I have made it very clear that I am terrible in an emergency and do not help people. And I'm already imagining arguments with tumblr randos who are always handing out authoritative ethical advice about what to do in every situation, in a way that reveals that they have no real life experience of their own. And now I need to like get to my stupid telehealth visit with the doctor I flaked on last week, and stop being insane, and go back to work. I don't really know why I write these things down. I guess I must have to.

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