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1800-lemonadeg1rl · 13 days

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Jealousy part two

Part one (you don't have to read to understand this part <3)

Summary - Wanda takes a turn at being jealous while at a party

Warnings- probably stupid, alcohol, getting drunk, r being oblivious drunk, Wanda being possessive, hickeys

A/n - I dont know if this is too much bc I fell asleep twice writing this and took a break for a carbonara

"Do you think this looks good?" You ask nervously turning your head away from your bedrooms full length mirror and towards Wanda who was lay back on the bed, head tilted down as she put her full focus into painting her nails a fresh coat of black.

The dress you'd put on was a black satin wrap that fell just above your mid thigh, it was the third dress you'd tried in the past twenty minutes insisting none of them were suiting you despite Wandas compliments on each one. Your eyes flitted back to the mirror over analysing each small part of the dress on your body as if trying to find a reason to take it off and avoid going out.

"God y/n that's it that's the one." Wanda finally replies as she slides off the bed, you watching her from the reflection in the mirror as she strides over her hands snaking around your waist all the while she nuzzles her face into your neck. "Please don't take this one off.. for me." You feel the soft tickles of her breath on your neck as she whispers to you. Before you can stop yourself your nodding along with her agreeing to wear the dress as her hands slip past your waist giving your ass a tight squeeze and kissing your jaw before slinking back to the bed.

An hour later both you and Wanda were dressed and ready heading to a party on the otherside of town. You still in the black dress with your hair in loose curls that Wanda had done for you patiently while you fidgeted on the floor not content with having to stay completely still even if it meant avoiding a burn from the curling iron. Wanda however had been patient as possible gently pulling your shoulders back when you started moving and going back to wrapping your hair around the iron.

Wanda was dressed in a satin navy blue dress with little gold stars on it paired with some gold constellation earrings you'd bought her for her last birthday. Everytime you saw her she was more gorgeous than you had remembered.

You were both cuddled together in the back seat of the cab her arm draped around your shoulder pulling you into her chest where you lay your head with a soft smile. Since establishing yourself as a couple you'd begun to realise Wanda was very touchy and possessive, always wanting you within an arms reach just in case. It made you wonder how long she'd wanted to hold you like this and just kept quiet about it. You for one were glad she was always close enjoying the soothing feeling that came from being in the other woman's arms.

Suddenly, the taxi pulled into a stop outside a very expensive looking apartment building where you could already hear loud music blasting from the penthouse on the top floor.

Parties had always made you nervous and when you got nervous you got drunk.. very drunk. Wanda somewhat knew this from the first time you'd been at a Stark party and you'd gotten blackout drunk in the first hour and attempted to do an Olympic gymnast routine and in the process breaking your left wrist. She hadn't told you but she had the whole thing on video.

You didn't have much time to linger on your nerves as Wanda was now pulling you from the car and leading you towards the party. Neither of you were extremely extroverted but that didn't stop the two of you from being excited about going out on nights like this. Being quite similar like this worked out well as by the time one of you grew tired of a social outing so did the other and you could both go home without it being awkward.

In a matter of minutes you were in the lift to the top floor with Wanda who kept taking pictures of you both in the mirror.

"I don't want to ever forget how perfect you look." She tells you will snapping another picture of you. You leaned over to kiss her cheek and she took the opportunity to get yet another picture. For the last few seconds of the lift she continued to mess around taking pictures while you admired her. The soft sound of her giggle which rang out with every click of the camera or the way she styled her long wavy hair so that it framed her face in what you would describe as an angelic way.

You were drawn out of your thoughts when the lift dinged and the doors opened, Wanda quickly linked your arm and you both scurried out the lift and towards the music which rapidly increased in volume.

Stepping through the door to the party you realised you'd both underestimated how many people would be there as you were hit with the smell or sweat and cheap booze as you entered. You tried to keep close to your girlfriend but the crowds of people were thick and you had to walk through one at a time. Assuming Wanda was behind you the whole time you confidently stepped through the party towards a drinks table but once you arrived much to your dismay Wanda was no where to be found. Trying not to panic you assumed she'd be there soon, maybe she was just saying hi to someone she knew. While you definitely didn't panic about your girlfriends absence you decided to pour a drink for the two of you. Nothing fancy just vodka and coke except you were always far too generous with the vodka which is why Wanda usually poured the drinks for you both.

Walking back through the party with your drinks you sat down on a comfy looking couch and awaited Wandas return while sipping your drink. Fifteen minutes went by with no sighting of Wanda and by then you'd finished your drink and had decided to start on hers telling yourself you'd get her another when she returned.

As time went on you succumbed to your nerves and rushed through your drinks. Two became four became eight and now you were on your ninth still curled on the couch having forgotten about trying to find Wanda.

A girl had started talking to you a while ago though you had no clue what about or what her name even was despite having had asked her three separate times. She was pretty but to you no one could compare to Wandas beauty. Even though you'd forgotten about finding her your brain could still only picture her, wishing she was there sat next to you instead of whoever this was.

In the state you'd become combined with how oblivious you could be anyway you didn't quite notice the girl placing herself so close so she was pressed against you and actively trying to close the space between you. Right now she had you lazily half perched on her lap while your head flopped on the head of the couch.

Your blurry eyes scanned the room and you recognised the girl looking directly at you with her fists clenched. Wanda. Your eyes lit up when you saw her and you lifted your heavy head from the couch to try and beckon her over when the girl next to you noticed she attempted to pull your head onto her shoulder. You tried to resist the movement instead wanting to look at Wanda who was quickly pacing over with a stern look.

"You didn't introduce me to your new friend detka." She muttered with a slight hiss which you didn't quite detect. Her eyes darted over to the girl as if judging every part of her appearance.

"WANDS!" You shouted back with little regard for what she'd just said as you simmer with excitement at just the sight of her.

In an attempt to sit up and make room for Wanda on the couch wanting her to hold you in the soothing way she often did. However in your state you miscalculated moving and holding your drink and ended up spilling it all over yourself and the girl next to you who instantly reacts by jumping up and away from the dark liquid coating her legs.

"Oh.. oh my god.. I'm so sorry." You try and tell her with a slur as tears prick your eyes finding yourself overly emotional, probably due to the drink.

The girl who was trying to get all over you just a second ago stares down at you with what looks like disgust while wiping the drink off her. She then turns on her heel and marches away. Wanda stood just a couple feet away tries so desperately to hide her excitement at the girl leaving though she doubts you'd notice in this state.

Wanda then takes no time sliding into the seat and wrapping you around her, letting you rest your head against her. A few stray tears were running down your face which she wiped away carefully. She looked down at your face which was now nestled against her with a more peaceful expression, your meticulously applied mascara was now clumpy and your face was a blushed tone from the alcohol.Watching that go on made her realise you hadn't noticed what the other girl had been trying to do, that you were too drunk to pick up on how it looked. Still it didn't make her feel any better. She was still jealous even if she knew it wasn't exactly your fault.

"How much have you drank sweetie?" She asks in a much softer tone, all trace of her previous hiss gone as she looks at you with concern. Her soft fingers tracing patterns into your neck.

"A little bit.. I had a little bit." You mumble into her shoulder. Her eyebrow raised in response, you'd definitely had more than just a little drink to end up like this.

She lifts up your head delicately holding your chin as if you were a fragile china doll who would break with any rough handling.

"Your mine y/n. No one will ever take you away or hurt you. No one will ever take you from me." To contrast with her words her voice is possibly softer than its ever been, you just wanted her to keep talking so you could keep hearing that silk like noise from her mouth.

"I don't want anyone else Wands." You attempt to make a response but most of it is lost in an incoherent mumble. Your eyes were still blurred but you could just about make out the shape of her face which you attempted to trace with your fingers. When she noticed what you were trying to do she helped you out, guiding your hand to her jawline with a giggle which made you feel all fuzzy.

"I think we should go home y/n."

In response all you do is nod and before you know it your back in the lift with her. For some reason she's still taking more pictures of you both in the mirror but you were sure with the way you were right now they wouldn't be flattering.

All of a sudden her head is against your neck and shes whispering in a way that can only be described as making you weak in the knees.

"I meant what I said. Your mine and I won't let anyone take you away from me." Before you can process what she was saying, her lips latch onto your neck at first gently sucking just one spot but it wasn't long before she bit into it, making sure to leave a bruise right there. A mewl escaped you, too out of it to distinguish between the pleasure and the pain. She stopped biting and began to lick over to rough pained skin just as the lift opened and she led you out as if nothing had happened.

#wanda #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x you #marvel #wanda fluff #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x fem!reader #jealous wanda #lemonade writes☆•#2nd grade level writing #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda maximov #wanda maximommy

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skyeslittlecorner · 1 month

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Oh no, everyone has great ideas and you turn them into such amazing stories 🥹 Love family stuffs ahhhhh 😩

How about the kings and their kids prepare for Mother's day? 👀 The kids ask for advices and join their dads in prepare them (...and the king's gifts too... if you know what I mean 👀👌👈)

I love bringing your ideas to life! And I'm glad that you entrust them to me, you don't even know what an inspiration it is, that I can write for you, and you like it. Stay amazing as always 🙏

Family time, let's go!

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Satan and the twins had some trouble with their gift for you. They said they wanted to do it themselves, without dad, because it would be a surprise for both of you. Of course, he agreed, but he still ordered the nobles to keep an eye on them. First they went to Sitri and wanted to paint the cups, but they broke them. Then they approached Paimon to make you your own stickers, but after half an hour, glitter was everywhere. Before they accosted anyone else, Astaroth intervened. He took them to the meadow (so they could run around and shake off some glitter) and only when they got tired did he start telling them about how their father was a child, when they were picking wild flowers for bouquets for you.

Satan himself will give you a box of mint-blueberry chocolates, which you regularly carved at 3 a.m. during your pregnancy, and a smirk with the words "I'm ready for round two." Of course, he pissed you off with that. And since he also brought good wine, get ready for the next five rounds.

Mammon and your little gang will present you with a whole collection of jewelry. You expected them to be pasta necklaces and modeling clay earrings, but of course you underestimated them. Pearl necklace, ruby bracelets, cufflinks with gold beads. Of course, they are made a bit crooked and clumsy, the younger the child the more so, but you and Mammon look like the proudest parents in the world. This is the only jewelry you want to wear.

From the king you will receive a beautiful silk set (actually five sets, each matching one piece of jewelry you received), underwear and a long dressing gown, (and a matching dress, shoes and even a handbag), which you will have to try out together.

Beelzebub loves scribbles, and so does his little girl! The card you will receive will be the messiest, most colorful conglomeration of colored tissue paper, photos and ribbons you could ever imagine. Beel made sure that there was no shortage of materials, so in one place you have shells from the Caribbean, a heart made of Chinese silk and amber with a fossil (where did they get it from? Did he really take your daughter for a walk around the world? You don't ask, you don't want to know the answer).

Beel will give you markers with edible icing. He had a great time with the little one, but now it's time for mommy to show off her artistic talent. Preferably on his body. You can trace his tattoos with a marker, or maybe write something new. He's ready to be your canvas all night long.

Your daughter has Leviathan’s perfectionism, but in a specific version that when daddy likes something, it means it's already perfect. Usually. Sometimes she says daddy has no taste, and that's the sassy part she inherited from you. She would spend a good week sitting in her father's office and embroidering a pillow as a gift for you, with small flowers, because she doesn't know anything else yet. Levi makes sure she doesn't gouge out her eye with the needle, and every time the needle almost pierces her finger, the thread pulls it back. He usually doesn't worry about it, let the child learn. This time he would prefer there was no blood on the embroidery because the gift for you has to be more perfect than anything else.

Leviathan will give you a choker, also embroidered, but with black thread on black material. You can read it only by touch. What does it say? Only you two know. It's so adjustable that it's perfect for both wearing and choking.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb satan #whb leviathan #whb mammon #whb beelzebub #skye's little talk

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tommysversion · 1 year

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dancing at a club and catching mafia! Joel's eye, suddenly feeling him pressed up against him feeling you up and being invited to a more private area. mafia joels got me feral never thought of him like that until now

( I honestly don’t know where this AU idea came from, anon, but it lives in my head rent free and I’m glad I’ve infected you with this brain rot too. )

CWs: age gap / guns / oral sex (m!recieving) / unprotected sex / violence / language / dirty talk

——

You’ve been trying to get into this club for weeks, trying your luck queueing outside every Friday night. Finally, you’ve gotten lucky, and god damn is it worth the wait. It’s the fanciest place you’ve ever been in, but you suppose that makes sense. You’ve heard that the place is owned by the local crime family, and that doesn’t surprise you at all.

A few drinks in and you’re not remotely worried about dancing in a mafia owned club. You also barely notice anyone around you, except him. He’s older, older than you, but built solid, with slicked back grey streaked hair, and impossibly dark eyes that are fixed on you, watching your every move.

After a while, you lose track of him, shake off the feeling of being watched, lose yourself in the pounding music, head foggy from alcohol and adrenaline. Eyes half closed, you sway to the music, the bass pounding through your body.

Solid hands settle on your waist, pull your back flush against a wall of muscle; someone’s chest. You can feel a gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, turn your head to see the older man from before smirking down at you.

“Don’t run, little rabbit.” His voice is low in your ear, but somehow still audible over the noise. There’s a slight drawl to his voice, the barest hint of an accent.

Even though every nerve in your body should be screaming at you to run, you don’t, instead press back against the man, let him run his hands over your body. You recognise him now, vaguely. You think his name is Joel, think he’s one of the enforcers for the family.

“How about we go somewhere a little quieter, hm?”

You know you should say no, but somehow you’re not so sure he’s the sort of man who takes no for an answer. And besides… you’re curious. He’s hot as hell, and dangerous, and you’re not the smartest when it comes to avoiding dangerous situations. So you let him wrap an arm around your waist and guide you from the crowded dance floor, down the hallway to one of the VIP rooms.

The music is still thumping over the speakers, but this room is much nicer, plush velvet couches and thick black carpet, walls painted black and accented with gold, dimly lit.

Joel sits himself down on one of the couches, pulls you onto his lap, draws out his gun and sets it to the side; still within arm’s reach, but not near you, ignoring it as his hand fists into your hair and drags you into a kiss. It’s rough and hungry, full of passion and need. You’ve never been kissed like this before, his hands roaming your body, pulling the tight skirt of your tiny dress up around your hips, hands kneading into the firm skin of your ass as he kisses you, makes your head spin with need for him. He pulls you against his body, grinding you down against the solid bulge in his jeans.

You whimper softly into his mouth at the feeling of him, at the thought of how big he must be.

“Very good, pretty girl.” His voice is low and husky, lips still slightly parted as he surveys you. “Now get on your knees for me. I know you want to.”

He’s right. You’re practically drooling over him, sliding from his lap to between his spread thighs in the time it takes him to unbuckle his belt, unzip his jeans, pull his hard cock out. Fuck, he’s big. Big and thick and so, so hard, just from watching you, just from kissing you.

You know he’s a dangerous man, would know it even if the gun sitting next to him wasn’t a very physical fucking reminder. And yet. And yet you tuck your hair behind your ears and lean in eagerly, taking him into your mouth, kissing and licking at the tip of him until he growls. Taking it as a warning, you slide him into your mouth, working your tongue around him as best you can, taking him deeper into your throat until you’re in danger of gagging.

He rocks into your throat almost lazily, those dark eyes fixated on you, one hand in your hair, the other resting on the gun beside him. Your jaw aches, your throat too full, but the look on his face is all the encouragement you need to keep going, until he pulls you roughly off of his cock, releases your hair.

“Get up here.”

You scramble to obey him, crawling back into his lap, your skirt still up around your waist. Your thin panties, or the scrap of lace that passes for panties, are absolutely soaked, and he can tell. Smirking, he tears them clean off you, yanks you right against his chest, tosses the ruined lace aside.

“Such a slutty little girl.” His fingers run along your soaked slit, dipping inside you, making you wriggle and whimper. “You know exactly what I am, but you still want me. Still sucked my cock like it was delicious.” He kisses your bare collarbone, amused when your eyes go back to the gun beside him.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t hurt you.” He sucks a deep purple mark into your throat. “Can’t promise I won’t make you scream for me, though.”

He lifts you like you’re nothing, lines you up before he pulls you down roughly onto his cock, letting you sink down onto him, feeling every inch as it disappears inside you. You bury your fingers in the denim of his shirt, digging your nails in as you brace yourself.

“That’s it…” his head falls back against the wall, exhaling softly as he feels you tightening around him. “Take it…”

And you do, addicted almost instantly to how he fills you, rolling your hips against him, riding him almost desperately in time to the music pounding through the walls. There’s power in knowing who he is, what he is, and having him beneath you, hearing him moan for you.

Not that you can stay smug for long; his hands plant on your waist, keeping you still as he ruts up against you, hard and fast, hitting your sweet spot. All you can do is cling to him, crying out when his rough hand slaps your ass, one side then the other.

“Please!” You don’t know what you’re begging for; permission, maybe? You somehow know he won’t like if it you climax without his say so. It’s hard to hold it back though, and he knows it.

“Go on, princess.” He nuzzles into your throat, kisses the mark he’s left on you. “Go ahead and cum all over my cock.”

You whimper at the filthy words, at the gentle touch, and the feeling of him deep inside you; you take the permission though, letting go entirely, your entire body shaking as your release washes over you. It’s been far too long since you’ve gotten laid, and why not admit it? He’s fucking good.

He knows it, too, but he’s too focused on chasing his own release to be smug about it, holding you in place with one hand, the other snaking around your throat as he bucks up into you, harder and faster, filling you with hot thick ropes of his release before he can stop himself, cursing under his breath the entire time.

He rests his head on your shoulder, considerate enough to let you regain your breath before he snags your phone from your bra, enters a number into your contacts, all without shifting you from his lap, keeping you seated on his cock.

“Next time you need to be fucked properly, princess? You give me a call.”

You nod, still dazed, beyond words.

It doesn’t occur to you until the next morning, nursing a major hangover, that the enforcer of the local fucking mafia has given you his number, implied he wants to see you again. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

#answered #my writing #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #mafia!joel #Pedro Pascal

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katiexpunk · 17 days

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Are you ever going to do a pt 2 to dream of me? It was soo good! I want to see the morning after and what joel would do while reader/character is asleep or something.

Dream of Me - Part II | Pairing Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Thanks for the ask, Non. <3 I'm so glad you liked it! I've had a part II in my wips for a while, and your ask inspired me to finish it up. It was one of my first fics and I feel like my writing style has evolved a lot since then. So surprise! I also added about 1K extra words to Part I. :) Rating: 18+ Minors DNI | W/C: ~2K Warnings: Dream vibes. Unprotected P in V. Orgasm denial. Pet names. Masturbation. Use of cum as lube. Rough sex/hair pulling. Use of slut one time. Oral (f receiving). Sleeping bag sex. There is an age gap, but it's not specified (make it your own). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. For immersability, the reader has no major physical descriptions/graphic is for vibe purposes only. Masterlist | Notifications | Read on AO3 | Part 1

The world is bathed in a soft, ethereal glow, the kind that seems to blur the edges of reality into a gentle haze. You’re standing in the middle of an open field, the grass beneath your feet feels lush and slightly damp, as if it had recently been kissed by a passing cloud. Above you, the sky is a canvas of swirling colors, painting a sunset that seems almost otherworldly. You feel like you’ve stepped into a painting, the kind that used to hang on walls in museums, ones that used to be meticulously cared for.

In the distance, you see a mountain, its peak shrouded in mist and its slopes adorned with trees that shimmer in hues of gold and emerald. You think that it might be nice to sit in the grass and just watch the clouds roll over the rock giant. Before your legs can fall to the ground, your ears tune to the telltale sounds of water on water, a roaring waterfall unmistakable in the distance.

You begin to walk, your steps guided by an unseen force, drawn towards the mountain as if it were calling to you, whispering your name in only a language you understand. The air is filled with the sweet scent of flowers in bloom, a fragrance so potent and yet so delicate, like a memory from a time long forgotten. You’re reminded of the perfume your mother used to wear, the lush roses that once lived in your garden, and the earthy smell of fresh-cut grass.

As you approach the base of the mountain, you notice a path that winds its way up the slope, paved with stones that faintly glow, as if they were lit from within. With each step, the stones beneath your fit light up, guiding you onward, their light casting dancing shadows on the path in front of you. You feel warm and fuzzy, safe and curious, like nothing here could hurt you.

Suddenly, out of the corner of your eye, you see a figure standing off the side of the path. A man, broad and imposing, yet with a demeanor that radiates warmth, beckons you closer.

As you get closer, you realize it’s Joel. He looks different, softer somehow. He doesn’t say anything, just holds your gaze.

“Is this a dream?” You ask, your voice off in the distance, almost as if it was coming from someone else.

His dark eyes lock on yours, and he takes a step closer. He cages you back until your backside lands against the expanse of a thick tree. He stands, palm flat against the bark above your head, and leans in. Fuck, he smells good — like cedar and cinnamon.

You look up at him, and he leans in even closer, his face close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. His hungry eyes fall to your lips, and he leans in even further, lips hovering just over yours.

“Why don’t we find out?” He says, voice low, a syrupy drip of arousal behind his words.

You jolt awake, but this time there are no soft moans that thread through stillness, instead, you’re met with the wanton sound of skin-on-skin, and deep heavy grunts.

“You’re a dirty fucking girl, you know that, sweetheart?” Joel groans, once again on top of you, fully awake this time. One hand on your hips, the other braced at your side, he guides your wet cunt down onto him with intensity. He gyrates his hips, the tip of him kissing your cervix, and you let out a breathy moan.

“Joel, fuck —”

“Fucking me in my sleep, taking advantage of me,” he groans through grit teeth as he relentlessly fucks into you, taking you hard and rough, “Cock hungry little slut, just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He says, hand leaving your hip for a brief moment to unzip the rest of the sleeping bag down.

Both of his hands find your hips and he tugs you back and up so you’re on all fours, ass clapping against his lower tummy. “Toldya you were asking for trouble, sweetheart,” he says, trailing his hand up your lower back, causing you to arch for him. His hand grabs the back of your neck with a commanding grip, and he uses the leverage to pull you back onto his cock even harder.

“Shit Joel, ah” you whimper, a little sore from last night, “it’s so much,” you mewl.

“You had your fun, baby, now it’s my turn,” he says with a low groan and moves to gather a handful of your hair in his first. He tugs it and your back curves even further, the new angle perfect against the soft spongy spot that makes you see stars.

“Joel, oh my god, please —” you cry out, a little plea of pleasure, a little plea of pain. He’s fucking you with such intensity, using you just like you hoped he would last night. Last night was incredible, but nothing could compare to this. You’re not sure you’ve ever been fucked this good, ever.

“You close, baby?”

“Yes, oh god, please — wanna come so bad, please Joel,” you moan, and he lets out a deep groan of approval from his chest. He tugs on the hair intertwined between his fingers and pulls you up so your back is against his chest, his cock still deep inside of you.

His forearm comes to wrap around your waist and his lips find your neck, his teeth gliding against the razor edge of your jaw. He sucks soft kisses into your damp skin and continues dragging his thick cock in and out of you just so.

Your eyes flutter closed and Joel can tell you’re close from the way your pussy walls clench around him.

“Look so good like this baby, stuffed full of my cock,” he whispers into your ear, sucking the lobe of it between his lips. “‘Ts a damn shame I won’t get to hear how sweet you sound when you come,” he says, voice low, as he thrusts up hard into your cunt and then quickly pulls out.

Your eyes snap open and your jaw drops. He releases you and you turn around to face him. He can’t be serious right now.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Bad girls don’t get to come,” he says, a harshness to it, but you see a smirk of satisfaction wash over his face. His large hand comes out to grip his thick cock, and he uses your slick as he works himself.

“Joel, please —” you all but beg, your eyes soft, chest heaving. His jaw tightens, the veins in his neck bulging as he fucks his fist and takes in the sight of you. You hold his gaze, and another soft please escapes your lips.

“Fuck,” he groans, “lay on your back, spread your legs,” he commands, much like he does when he tells you to get behind him, his rifle aimed at any potential threats. It might have scared you pre-outbreak, how submissive you’ve become for a man, but that was then and this is now — you follow his orders to stay alive because he knows what’s in your best interest. This can’t be any different, right?

You do as he says, your hand instinctively finding your way to your wet core, circling on your clit, seeking out the friction you so desperately need.

“Did I say you could touch yourself, sweetheart?”

“No,” your eyes drop to his weeping cock, and your hand falls to your side.

“You touch yourself when I say you can,” he says, voice heavy and a little breathless. His resolve is slipping. He hasn’t let up the pace on his cock this entire time, and you can tell he’s close. You spread your legs even wider, granting him an unobstructed view of your dripping cunt.

“You gonna come for me, Joel?” You softly moan, a seductive tone to your voice. “Gonna paint my pussy with your cum?” You press your knees down further on top of the sleeping bag.

Joel’s fist tightens on his cock, and he works it methodically, eyes locked on your wet hole.

“God, she’s so pretty, I can tell she wants to be full of me, huh, baby? Little cunts just begging to be stuffed,” he groans and thrusts his hips into his fist once more before he lets out an almost painful-sounding moan. Hot cum falls over his fingertips, pools on the top of your mound, dripping honey thick over your clit, down your lips, and into your aching hole. His chest heaves and his fist holds tight on his cock as he lets the aftershocks of his orgasm wash over him.

On his knees in front of you, between your legs, he rises and adjusts his shoulders. He releases his spent cock and falls back onto his legs, shins pinned to the ground below.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. Want to watch you fuck it into you,” he says, bringing both of his hands to your inner thighs, holding you open for him.

Like you did last night, you fingers return to your clit and you pull tight circles there, using his cum as lube. He should be looking at your pussy, but instead, his eyes are locked on yours. He’s so fucking intense, a brooding mass of a man, even now, a slight blush to his cheeks from his orgasm, chest twinged with sweat. You want to know what he tastes like, the salt of his skin on your tongue, the tang of his cum.

You use your middle finger to gather a little bit of his release on your finger and fuck it into yourself a few times, before drawing your finger out and up to your mouth, slipping the slick digit between your lips. You suck it clean and you swear you see his cock twitch as you do.

“Jesus,” he groans, and his cock starts to harden once more.

Your fingers return to your clit. You’re so close, it’s not long before —

“Fuckfuckfuck, yes,” you cry out, eyes closed, your release taking over you like watercolor paint spilling onto paper, blurring the lines your pleasure has always been confined to — until now. You think once again that this might be a dream, but this time you’re no longer in a painting that hangs on a wall in a museum, you are the painting.

“Shit, that was pretty,” he moans, and you open your eyes to find his cock is now fully hard once again.

“Did so good for me, sweetheart,” he says, coming to hover over you. His cock smears the remnants of his cum on your belly as he leans in closer, and hovers his mouth over yours. He holds steady there, eyes still fixed on yours before he drops them to your lips and leans in to plant a soft kiss on them.

It’s tender, softer than you would expect from a man like him.

He pulls himself up slightly and brings one hand to cup your cheek.

“You’re gonna do that again,” he says, voice soft, and your eyes widen.

“Told you you were asking for trouble, sweetheart,” he groans against your chest. “But don’t worry, I’m gonna help you out this time,” he says, trailing kisses down the valley of your breast, using his tongue to lap up the cum that’s gathered on your skin before his head comes to rest in between your thighs.

And in that moment, your reality outshines the confines of even the sweetest of dreams.

END

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller ask #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #pedrostories

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bobfloydsbabe · 5 months

Text

the holiday truce | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc | sneak peek

a gold rush fic

SUMMARY: Bob and Imogen call a truce and spend the holidays together.

WARNINGS: academia au, enemies to lovers, age gap (mid 20s/late 30s), power imbalance, smut (not in sneak peek), christmas. strictly 18+/minors dni.

A/N: inspired by a conversation with @joaquinwhorres. bob and imogen celebrate christmas, but i've done my best to limit the references to it. i'm aiming to post sometime in december, but i hope this sneak peek will get you excited for it. let me know what you want to see in this fic. enjoy!

ADD YOURSELF TO THE TAGLIST

She stands on the street, looking up at the Boston brownstone. Around her, thick fluffy snowflakes fall to the ground. Not enough to cover the sidewalk in a blanket of white, at least not yet. One falls against her cheek and melts on contact, and she’s sure her hair’s littered with them.

She feels a bit like a pig at the entrance to a slaughterhouse. Certain doom on the other side of that front door in the shape of Dr. Robert Floyd. Known to friends as Bob, apparently. She didn’t know he had friends, and certainly not that they call him anything other than Robert until she overheard Dr. Kazansky talking about him.

Drawing in a deep breath and releasing it into a misty cloud, she squares her shoulders and walks up the steps to the front door. The black paint is peeling off and the knocker could use a good clean, but Imogen knows the professor well enough to know he won’t prioritize it. She’s seen his office, and it’s not a pretty sight.

The door swings open, letting warm yellow light spill into the street. Silhouetted by the glow, Dr. Floyd looks as if he’s wearing a halo, like an angel descended from heaven.

“Miss Van Doren,” he says, and as her eyes adjust to the sudden light, she notices a faint smile on his face. “Glad you could make it.”

He steps aside, hand still on the doorknob, allowing her to walk past him and inside the entrance hall. She catches a whiff of his cologne as he closes the door behind her. Spices and ink. Him.

A coat rack hangs on the wall with three coats evenly spaced out. Underneath it is a small bench and next to it are the professor’s shoes. The classic brown oxfords he wears to work and a pair of sensible winter boots. Both are spotless.

Unlike his office, the house appears perfectly tidy. Her mouth hangs open as she takes in the elaborate light fixtures, wood paneling, framed artwork on the opposite wall to the coat rack depicting a nye of pheasants. Not the type of art she expected, but it feels like him somehow.

She can feel his eyes trained on her as he steps up behind her. “Let me take your coat,” he says, voice deep and gravelly. She nods, slipping her purse off her shoulder and placing it on the bench.

His fingertips graze her neck, sending a shiver down her spine when he grasps the collar and slides the wool off her shoulders and down her arms. Stepping around her, he puts the coat on the rack for her.

“Come on,” he says once she’s toed her boots off and placed them haphazardly next to his own. “Dinner’s almost done.”

Imogen frowns, grabbing her purse and following him down the narrow entryway and into the open-plan kitchen. “You cook?”

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, she catches the smile on his handsome features. “I do,” he tells her, rounding the large island and reaching for an empty wine glass. “Red or white?”

She blinks at him, not sure how to feel about him being nice and personable. They may have agreed to bury the hatchet for a few days, but this is beyond unsettling. His light blue shirt has the top buttons undone, giving her a view of his collarbones and a thin silver chain around his neck.

“Red,” she says finally, trying to shake off the weird sensation of being in his home and watching him do normal things like pour a glass of wine.

He hands her the glass, raising his own and clinks them together. “Happy holidays, miss Van Doren.”

“Imogen,” she corrects him and takes a long sip, tasting the tannins on her tongue. “Is there anything I can help with?”

He trains his blue eyes on her. They appear darker than usual, maybe from the wine in his system or the tension cackling between them. His lips turn up at the corner. “Now you want to be helpful?”

Heart pounding in her chest, her cheeks warm under the intensity of his gaze. She wants to say something back, a witty remark, a counterpoint, a quip, but she can’t think of anything. Instead, she nods dumbly.

He smirks, the crinkles around his eyes deepening. “No,” he says at last, coming up in front of her, leaning down until his lips are a hair’s breadth away from her earlobe. “But you can sit that pretty little ass down and look sexy for me.”

TAGLIST: @roosterforme, @bradshawsbaby, @kmc1989, @cherrycola27, @yanna-banana, @bluezraven, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @hangmandruigandmav, @keyrani, @just-in-case-iloveyou, @solo-pitstop-vibes, @sweetwhispersofchaos, @attapullman, @bcarolinablr, @lewmagoo, @floydsmuse, @lyn-js, @briseisgone, @ryebecca, @auroralightsthesky

#bob floyd #bob floyd smut #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd #robert floyd #robert bob floyd fic #top gun maverick #tgm #tgm fic #lewis pullman #otp: bob x imogen #fic: gold rush #oc: imogen van doren #bob floyd fanfic #bob floyd fanfiction

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instarsandcrime · 19 days

Text

Tuned Out

Oh gosh it's been uh. Almost a month since I've written something??? Well, I hope you enjoy this one! I loved the idea of a sick L/uc/ifer spiraling, and being broken out of it by A/la/stor's radio show because I'm weak to the idea-- though it can be interpreted as both platonic and Ra//di//o//A//pple.

And here's a quick heads-up: Though this is still the usual fluffy fic, the spiral paragraph itself is a bit rough. So I'm going to put a trigger warning below and in the summary when I add this fic to the list. If intrusive thoughts and vague thoughts of self-harm are too much, please skip the italicized second paragraph. You can still read the fic without needing to include this part, so don't feel ANY pressure to do so if you aren't/will never be ready. Please, pleeeassseee take care of yourselves!

Otherwise, enjoy!

TW: Intrusive thoughts, vague thoughts of self-harm

---

Burning. His skin felt like it was burning him alive. That was the only sensation Lucifer could feel. His tired eyes stared up at the canopy of his bed, face glowing softly with fever. Its flush spread gold across the embedded pearls above, making them sparkle like stars. He sighed, crackling sparks floating from his lips as thoughts poked and prodded at his overheated mind.

Fuck. He really was pathetic, wasn’t he? Can’t move, can’t get up, can’t get a glass of water, eat dinner, call Charlie– call. Charlie? Oh, poor Charlie. She must be so disappointed in him. He chuckled weakly, What would she even say to him that she hasn’t already thought? He could imagine it. He really could. ‘Seriously, Lucifer?! I literally meant nothing to you for years and now suddenly you waltz into my life? And instead of actually spending time with me, you’re calling from a room that could’ve gone to someone who truly needed it, ordering me to wait on you hand and foot like I’m your butler? Like our entire relationship meant nothing? You threw me away, and now you’re going to do it again?! You know what? You deserve this! You deserve to rot in your bed! Get as starving and sick as you want! At least now the inside will match the outside! You’re terrible! I hate you! No. No, you know what? I wish you got your second shot at Heaven. I wish you had at least a week of laughter, fun, and fucking fireworks so they could tear off your wings andyoucanFallalloveragai–’

A burst of static pierced the air, shattering the constricting spiral just before it could break him again– and replaced it with a new form of dread.

“Why hello there all you wayward sinners! Welcome once again to tonight’s show with your host: The Radio Demon!”

“Uuugh!” Lucifer groaned dramatically, snatching one of his many pillows to press over his head.

Right. The stupid fucking radio. From under the shadows, the sickly demon couldn't help but glare daggers at the piece of junk resting on his nightstand. Alastor had requested those old, outdated mortal inventions for every hotel room– specifically from the 1920’s era because apparently he preferred style and substance. Whatever that meant.

Regardless. He insisted that it was needed for announcements, communication, and entertainment. In other words– somewhere, somehow, Alastor was currently studying him and him alone with invisible eyes. Surgically scanning him at the seams for the slightest rip. The slightest tear. As if his prey wasn't the most powerful being here. Dramatic bastard.

“And how are you doing this fine evening, Your Majesty?” The radio sung.

“Go away.” The lump of fluff grumbled.

"Of course not! It is my duty as your hotelier to take note of every little detail of my building, no matter how tiny and insignificant. And I am ever-so-glad I have! It is quite the rare sight to watch our King of Hell lose face to a simple case of the sniffles. Truly a headline for the ages!"

An angry red blush painted over the king’s golden cheeks, immediately pushing himself upright. Towering wings puffed, pillows and blankets tossed about the bed as he went. "Now see here! Sinners get sick. Overlords get sick. Hell, Charlie and Lilith can get sick! Me? I’m just rehhh…Snff! Ugh, resti'g…"

"Resting. Of course. I suppose I will believe you for convenience’s sake--"

"Hhheh…! Het'shiew!"

"--oh! Bless you."

"Het'shhhiew!"

"Bless y--"

"Hep'shhhh! 'Etshhh! 'Tshhh! 'Tshhh-'tshh-'tch! ...HhhhehhHH...! HEH'TSSHHHIEW!"

"My goodness, bless! You sound absolutely miserable. Shall I fetch you a glass of water? Or another blanket, perhaps?"

"Nhhh– no." Lucifer protested between hitching breaths, conjuring a handkerchief with the flick of the wrist, "N-no thahhh...hhhah! Hhhh...”

He finally lowered the cloth when the tickle finally fizzled out, heaving a sigh of relief. “Ndo thadk you. Snff!" He took a deep breath before letting loose a mucky blow into the fabric, "It's fine. I'm fine."

A pause. "Ah."

"What? What is it now?"

"Oh nothing, nothing! I’ll let you get back to your rest. But before I go, could I mention one more thing?”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s just. Well, I had my first impressions, but I assumed that the King of Hell wouldn't be so cowardly."

"Cowardly?!" Lucifer repeated incredulously, spitting a plume of smoke.

"I see your hearing is as sharp as your wit."

"I'll show you cowardly you…y-you…hhh-!" The demon’s nose twitched desperately, and he cursed between hitching gasps as it tried again and again to just get. The damned itch. Out.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite catch that."

"You…you self-important…hehhh…p-pompous…!"

"How flattering of you to notice my worth! And would you believe it? You're absolutely right! I am the fundraiser for this humble project, after all. The guide for these poor, misguided souls. Ones such as yourself."

"Oh, please! We both know you’re...you're no behhh...better than…hhhH–!" Lucifer's handkerchief raised to his face.

"Trying to use your infamous silver tongue through a sneeze? My word! Charlie had told me you were stubborn. But this?"

"Eshhh! Et'SCHHH! HEH'ETSCHH'HHHIEW!" He quickly twisted his head away to let loose a breath of flame, barely singeing the well-abused cloth.

"Poor, poor Lucifer Morningstar.” Alastor teased, his voice as soft and careful as a snake in the grass. The smattering of footsteps echoed across the floorboards, circling the bed. “Always choosing your own heavenly guilt over the needs of everyone else."

"HEH'ESCHH'HHHIU! Hehh! Hhh…hghh…"

"Which is a shame, considering the ill resident who requires attention. Trapped in their own feverish mind. Alone while their partner is away. Unable to move or think or even ask for help properly. But I’m sure you wouldn’t know how it feels for them, considering how indestructible you are."

"...There is?" Lucifer finally croaked, cringing to himself at another gurgling nose blow.

"Of course! While you were hiding in your room with your wings tucked between your legs, I'm afraid you've missed someone very important. Someone close to you."

Lucifer froze. He didn't mean.

"Mmm. Let's see." As the radio host thought stubby knobs spun on their own, playing flickers of songs diluted by time. "Rosy cheeks. Blonde hair. Red eyes that sparkle so damn brightly one could go blind."

Oh no.

"Puffy bow tie. Black fingernails."

Did. Did he get his little girl sick? Please, please don't let that be the case.

"The most spell-binding singing voice."

He thought back to breakfast. How Charlie had eaten less than normal. How she sniffled once or twice at the table. Wait, did her face look pale? Maybe the light didn’t catch it?

A knot formed in the pit of his stomach.

"Wh-where is she-- they, um! That. Resident right now?"

"Oh, performing the usual suffering patient routine. Lying in bed. Being miserable. Quite adament about sleeping the bug off. Reminds me of the ol’ picture books that star wealthy socialites and their sickly Victorian children. The ones who die due to their parents' neglect and mistreatment."

"I could help her." The fallen angel mumbled anxiously as he pushed himself upright. "I could help her right– …now..."

The second he dared to stand he nearly fainted, stumbling dizzily to grab the bedpost for support. From beneath a small string of black tentacles sprouted from the ground, nudging him back into place and under the covers as The Radio Demon tutted disapprovingly.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you. If you can't partake in the complex act of resting, then what good are you to our dear, sweet Charlie?"

"Shut. Up." Lucifer hissed, "I am a grown adult--"

"--debatable--"

"--and I choose what to do with my free time! And it's my jo-- koff koff! j-job to help my daughter when she needs it!" A shaky finger waved at all six radios. Or were there seven?

"To be quite honest Sire, I would prefer to do my tasks without your meddling. Actually, I would prefer not to perceive your existence at all, thank you very much. Unless..."

"Unless?"

"Unless you'd rather call her yourself. But I know you won't." A mocking tone laced with static, “You c̴̨̮͊o̶̗̤̿ẇ̷̙á̴̼̖ȑ̶͉̕d̶̙͚͗̕.”

“I– wh–” Lucifer laughed in sheer disbelief, snatching up his phone. “Y-you’re– you’re joking, right? I’m not some– some godforsaken hermit!"

"Then by all means, prove it."

"I am!"

“I’m waiting."

"Oh, I’ll do it! I’ll do such a good call. It’ll be the– snff! goodest caller you’ve ever seen.” The King of Hell pouted like a child as he moved his claws.

“Ugh. Lord knows how he’ll act if he gets worse.” The radio mumbled quietly.

“Whassat?”

“My apologies, Your Majesty! I forgot that your company as of late are less of the civilized and more the rubber duck variety.”

"Of all the– if you weren't stuck to Charlie like a parasite I would take the sharpest end of my tail and shove it up your--"

Click!

"Dad?" A voice croaked.

"Charlie!" Lucifer's venom turned saccharine sweet, flipping on a dime. "Hey! Hi! H-how are ya, sweetie?"

"Mmrgh...what time is it?"

"It's. Um. Evening…time? Look, that doesn't matter right now. Are you feeling alright, kiddo?"

"Am I feeling alright?" His patient echoed sleepily.

"Yeah! I uh. IIIII just wanted to check in. See if you were okay."

"Oh. Um, I'm okay." A bit of rustling and a pause. "Are you okay?"

"Snff! Me?"

"Yes, you! You looked so tired at breakfast this morning, a-and you didn’t eat anything which never happens! And you were kinda glowing? It kinda seemed bad but I didn’t want to ask because maybe it was a personal thing and– wait, your voice is…are you crying?!" Rustling turned into the shuffle of pacing slippers.

"What? No! Nonononono! I just--" Lucifer froze, feeling another itch start to build, handkerchief nowhere to be found under the sea of fabric. "Jhhh-just excuse mbe for– snff! For a seggond. Keebp t-talki’g…!"

He quickly pressed his hand against the speaker, stifling into his shoulder until the scratchy wool felt damp. "Hh'ntt! Hh’ngk! Hhh’TCH! ‘TCH! Hhhhh...HT'CHNXT'hiew! Guhh..."

"Sure. A-anyway, you called me pretty early in the morning and after all that and this. Soooo…is there anything I can do to help?"

Desperate claws scrambled to craft a new handkerchief and wipe his streaming face. "N-no! No, no-- snff! absolutely not! Worry about yourself Char-Char, I'm fi--....f-fihh...!"

Hang up, pinch your nose shut, do anything but--

"HET'SHHH'HIEW!" Lucifer doubled over.

–sneeze.

"Oh geez, that sounded terrible!” Charlie gasped, “Is that why you've been in your room all day? Are you sick?"

A sudden, very obvious realization hit him. Silently the fallen king sunk into his mattress, wishing he could be swallowed by his comforter. His cheeks burned. The familiar description. The taunting.

“Can I. Call you back, Stardust?”

“What? Whoa, whoa, wait, we’re not finished here–” With a final monotone beep, the call ended.

"You.” Lucifer clenched his fangs.

“Yes?” Alastor hummed non-chalantly. “YOU.”

“Gracious! No need to shout. Even The Devil Himself should know that a sickly patient musn’t raise his voice, lest it get worse than it already is!”

“Watch your back, bellhop. Next time I see you, no ring of Hell will compare to what I-- koff! I’ll–" The threat died with a wheeze, breaking into another ill-timed fit.

"And that's all for tonight, folks!" The radio suddenly hopped back to life, "Tomorrow's show may be a little dicey schedule wise, as our guest star is feeling quite unwell. Will he finally exit his literal and proverbial cave of sorrows for once in his miserable life? Or, much like his saintly past, will pride once again be his downfall--"

"Dad! Are you– eep!"

Charlie's entrance was suddenly interrupted when a black fist rained down on the damned noise box, breaking in a fit of bouncing springs and wooden splinters. The room stilled until a meek, nervous chuckle finally broke the spell.

"Charlie, dear?"

"Y…yeah?"

"Um. Could. Could I trouble you for a glass of water?"

#snz #snz fic #ha//zb//in//ho//tel//#lu/ci/fer #a/la/stor #char/lie

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octuscle · 1 year

Note

Customer suport?

I need some help please quick.

Im a canadian on a work trip in the deep Southern America. I was walking past a construction site when my phone started scanning the site. Then it said downloading new specs. Im feelung very weird. Please help i can make it stop.

There were professionals at work. Not only did someone perform a remote installation on your phone. The changes made can't be canceled or undone either. There was even a block configured for all changes to the executed profile for the maximum duration of 30 days. This means that I actually can't do much until the transformation is done.

You try to see anything unusual about the site. But there's nothing to see. The construction fence covers everything. Posters tell something about a club that will open here in the next few days. Las fotos muestran a hombres con el torso desnudo. Parece un poco gay.

In the hotel you are glad to finally get out of the suit. You have to look at yourself in the mirror for a moment. Even if you don't notice it: you look hotter by the second. The tattoo on your neck looks really good. And your hair is jet black by now.

Whoever took control of you is an artist. As you're getting changed for dinner, you realize that everything in your closet is black. And a lot of it is shiny. Satin shirts. Leather pants. You choose a T-shirt that looks like it's painted on your body. Plus black track pants with gold stripes that perfectly match your necklace and watch. No one in the lobby, the hotel bar or the restaurant speaks to you in English. Everyone speaks Spanish to you as a matter of course. Y nadie se pregunta por tu acento porteño.

I don't follow your development all the time, unfortunately there are other support cases. But when I look at your account the next morning, you are lying naked on the black satin sheets of your apartment in San Telmo. You live not far from the club where you work. And in three days it's opening, until then your choreography must be perfect. After all, you are one of the main attractions.

The moment you put on your leather pants, the transformation of your body and your mindset is complete. Now I could still make changes to you. But I don't know what else I should change. For me you are perfect!

#age reduction #male merge #inked man #muscle tf #chronivac #race change

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no-name-publishing · 1 year

Text

Manacled by SenLinYu

My 8-month marathon on this project has finally come to a close, and I have a ton of pictures to share!

We’ve got a split-board binding with made-endpapers and a built-in tab for extra support. Hand-sewn endbands with silk-finish cotton sewing thread. Done in a millimeter binding style with black leather, and a hand-drawn and -painted floral motif across the middle. Final page count is just under 1.4k. I figure altogether this was around ~50 hours worth of work for the whole binding, from beginning to the typeset to pulling the final book out of the press.

More pictures of the binding and typeset under the cut! If you have any questions or want more info about the process don’t hesitate to ask!

In truth I over measured/estimated the needed length of my leather; this and my poor pare job is definitely visible through the cloth lol, but I’m still jazzed with the result since I’d never touched leather before this. I designed the spread digitally in Procreate, printed it, transferred it to my cloth using carbon transfer paper, then painted using Jacquard Lumiere Metallic gold paint and a refillable .75mm paint pen.

Printed:

Transferred:

Mid-painting:

From starting the drawing to finishing the painting I’d say this part took ~15 hours. Close up of the spine:

Each endband measures around 3 3/4″ (9.5cm) in length and took around 5 hours to complete. The core is 4-ply hemp cord that I coated with PVA glue. Wrapped with a single strand of red silk-finish cotton thread, and one strand of polyester yellow thread, since it’s kinda shiny. Last I counted it was something like 300+ wraps of thread for each band. The uh, cat hair here is just an added bonus I suppose. Like when you buy a new pair of jeans and get that free sticker.

Some progress shots:

The tie downs. I usually will try to tie down every other signature. With 68 signatures you can understand this ate up a metric shitton of thread.

Different angle. Also a good few of the top of the textblock, which was trimmed painstakingly by hand with a wood chisel.

Smooth as a shark etc.

And some shots of the innards!

Each chapter page when through four rounds of printing: 1st through an inkjet, for the floral; 2nd through a laser printer for the number; 3rd through a laminator for the gold toner-reactive foil; and 4thly for the rest of the text.

Half-title page:

One of the attempts to foil a crane. The toner may have been too thin a line for it to work, or perhaps not dense enough tonerly. I don’t have control over that setting on our Xerox unfortunately.

A second shot of a golden crane. This was slightly more successful but lord knows why. Luck.

Fun fact is that this Daily Prophet page ALONE was about 8 hours worth of typesetting. I do all my typesetting in Word, and this page was recreated line-by-line individually. A few of these elements I also had to redraw by hand since there were just no good alternatives online. Anywho though, good payoff.

Nextly, some in-progess shots I don’t have a good segway into lol. A detail you can’t see on the book but I know is there, is hand-dyed scarlet linen thread, drip drying on my shower curtain rod:

Freshly sewn. 68 signatures, no waiting:

Rounded and backed:

And a close up of the special tab/made-endpaper construction. Stupidly I didn’t take any shots of gluing the split boards on, but I think the idea is pretty easy to imagine. Just picture this tab getting glued in between the cover boards.

You can kind of see it here:

And finally, the behemoth on the shelf. This bad boy tips the scales at just over 4 pounds (about 1.8 grams). Glad to have it; more glad to move on with my life.

Thank you for reading!!

#manacled #senlinyu #harry potter #fanficbookbinding #fanbinding #book binding #nonamepublishing #long post #dramione

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pastelwitchling · 8 days

Text

If you’re taking prompts; Isobel takes Alex as a plus one to some event as Kyle can’t come.

***

“How do I look?” Isobel asked for the tenth time that night, fixing her already perfect hair and patting down her already perfect silver dress.

Alex smiled and brought her hand up to his lips for a delicate kiss. “Perfect,” he said. “Now would you please stop panicking?"

“Panicking?” she scoffed, looking around at the gallery filled with her wealthy guests. “Who’s panicking? I’m not panicking. Why would I be panicking? Just because Kyle’s hospital donations all rely on me and my gala?”

Alex grinned. “Is that how Kyle put it?”

She tried to glare, but the thought of her fiancé softened her usually tough edges and her expression ended up more of a pout. “No. Kyle said he didn’t need me to put on a gala at all, that the annual Roswell’s-Doctors’-Bake-Sale usually pulled in more than enough funding.”

“But . . .” Alex prompted.

Her glare actually did sharpen this time. “But I’ve seen the way those rich housewives try to bid for my man like he’s the one on sale, and if I have to hold an elegant party to save him from their poorly-manicured claws, I’ll do it.”

“Woof,” Michael smirked from where he leaned against the table nearby, a flute of champagne in hand and completely at odds with his wild curls. “The world of fancy dresses and bubbles is more brutal than we thought, babe. Aren’t you glad I’m here?”

“Remind me why again?” Isobel hissed. “I gave Alex the invite.”

“I go where he goes,” Michael said simply. “And he wouldn’t have had to be here if your future husband hadn’t faked a fever.”

“He didn’t fake anything,” she snapped. “For your information, he’s barely been able to keep anything down the last two days!”

“Even more pathetic, if you ask me,” Michael grumbled. “What kind of doctor gets sick?”

“You’re such a – couldn’t you at least have worn a suit? Alex wore a suit.”

Alex had indeed worn a suit. He’d been surprised he still had it; a black jacket and pants with a white undershirt that he’d kept from his military days for their own occasional gala. Except this time, of course, he wore a gold chain necklace from his mother with an aquamarine stone in the center, his gold wedding ring, one piercing in his ear, string bracelets with engraved silver charms that Michael had made him, and his hair was tousled because this time, Alex wasn’t forcing it down with his buddy’s hair gel and it didn’t know how to settle otherwise.

Michael shrugged. He wore his classic jeans and flannel shirt, open halfway down his chest and revealing his chest hair. “Alex likes my clothes.”

“Alex likes the half-naked body underneath,” Isobel retorted with a curled lip. “Ew, gross, now I’m imagining you naked.”

“You’re welcome,” Michael smirked, and Alex held up his hands, standing between them.

“Okay,” he said, “it’s okay, guys, we’ve got a long night with each other, so let’s just . . .” he narrowed his eyes at Isobel. “Somehow, I thought Kyle not being here meant I wouldn’t have to break up any fights.”

“He’s rubbing off on her,” Michael said grimly, and winced. “Yuck, now I’m thinking about Valenti rubbing on you." He made a gagging motion which Isobel tried to whack him for, and would’ve if Alex wasn’t there to gently catch her wrist and give her hand another kiss.

“Look over there,” he pointed. “That woman’s been eying that painting for the last two minutes, if you want to swoop in . . .”

He trailed off, but Isobel was already gasping and making a beeline straight for her. When she was gone, Alex turned to the table and picked up a quiche.

“Can’t you give her a break tonight?” he said. “She’s doing this to help Kyle.”

“No, she’s not, Alex,” Michael said, annoyed. “She’s doing this because she’s jealous over seeing him around anyone else.”

“Some of those women crowd into him,” Alex defended, “and he’s representing the hospital, he can’t exactly shove them away, can he?” Michael scoffed, and Alex turned to him, hip against the table as he crossed his arms. “You know, this reaction really is rich, coming from the guy that almost set a tour bus on fire when one guy tried to hit on me.”

“He was a singer,” Michael snarled at once, and Alex had the feeling he still remembered every face that had ever flirted with Alex in the past. Probably to take their tires out if they ever drove into Roswell again. “And he was talking about his bandmates sharing you!”

Alex shrugged a shoulder. “It would’ve been consensual.”

Michael stared. “Are you trying to make me set this place on fire?”

Alex laughed and turned back to watch the rest of the gallery. It really was such a gorgeous place; the glass dome, the birds and angels engraved in gold on the ivory walls, the pretty people in pretty clothes and smell fancy food and sounds of tinkling laughter in the air. It was no wonder Isobel seemed so much in her element in places like this; it was like living in an art piece.

“You want one of those?”

Alex blinked. “Hm? One of what?”

Michael gestured again with his glass. “Those.”

He raised a brow. “The paintings?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. Was he blushing? “The drawings.”

“They’re masterpieces, Michael.”

“Sure, those.” He squinted at one plaque. The night had just started, how tipsy was he? “This guy’s famous, right?”

“You mean Van Gogh?” Alex tried not to smile. “Yeah, Michael, pretty famous dude.”

Michael heard the silent teasing anyway and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yes, these. Do you want one?”

“Why?” he tilted his head. “You going to get me one?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. He was definitely blushing. “How expensive can they be anyway?”

Alex decided to spare his wonderful husband the shock, and inched closer to Michael until their arms were brushing. “I’m okay. I already have the most gorgeous artwork coming home with me.”

Michael, in his hazy thoughts, took a second to work out what Alex had said, and his shoulders slumped. “Oh ha ha.”

Alex was already laughing under his breath, his shoulders shaking, but when he looked back at Michael, he found his gaze focused, sober and serious and something very private on Alex.

“You’re the most beautiful in any room, baby,” he said.

Warmth bloomed in Alex’s chest, and he blushed, looking down. “Thank you, hubby.”

Michael twined their pinkies together, and Alex looked up at him just as Isobel suddenly appeared and said, “Alex, quick, I think I got the lady close to writing a check, I need some eye candy to sweeten the deal.”

Alex’s brows pinched. “Is that supposed to be me?”

She rolled her eyes, looking too much like her brother. “Come on, hurry up, the hospital’s depending on you – Michael, no, just Alex!”

Michael, who had already pushed off the table, threw his head back to finish the last of his drink and set the glass down, albeit roughly.

“I already told you, sis,” he said jealously, ever the gorgeous hypocrite, “where he goes, I go.”

***

I'm quite proud of this one. Happy malex Monday ❤️

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex fic #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

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reixuuu · 7 months

Text

꒰ 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ✩࿐

pairing: baizhu x reader

content: fluff, you help baizhu collect herbs, just pure wholesomeness tbh, w rizz, flirting

summary: early mornings with him are as soft and sweet as ever

a/n: gift for @floraldresvi for mika’s gift exchange event! this is long overdue, so i apologize for the long wait <//3 btw this is rei! i’m posting this here though hehe because although it says baizhu x reader, it wasn’t really meant to appeal to a wider audience. also, i’m sorry if i didn’t nail his characterization </3 tbh i don’t know how to write baizhu that well

“My angel,” Baizhu’s voice rings out clearly amidst sounds of an awakening world, intertwining itself with the peaceful songs of dawn fauna and rustling leaves to weave an intricate symphony. “Thank you for accompanying me here so early in the morning.”

When you look over at Baizhu, you notice a soft smile painted across his features. It’s contagious because mere seconds later, you feel the corners of your lips dancing up in a grin as well. He looks absolutely ethereal under the ephemeral morning light. Glints of topaz dazzle within the depths of golden eyes, catching the light of the illustrious sunbeams filtering through the canopy of viridescent foliage overhead.

There’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“There’s no need to thank me,” you tell Baizhu. “I enjoy going out with you.”

Baizhu sighs, content permeating his breath.

“I’m glad my sentiments are reciprocated,” he says, the grin on his face somehow softening even more.

Gently, he intertwines his fingers with yours, his skin brushing against yours in a manner that feels comforting. Although it’s still early in the morning, you feel more energized than ever. But it’s always like this when you’re with Baizhu. You feel like you can do anything when your lover is by your side. For a while, the two of you simply stroll, taking in the scenery. Fragmented gold tints everything a warm shade, and the cerulean hues of the river bordering the path you’re currently walking glisten as if studded by diamond shards.

Soon enough, you reach your destination: a clearing amidst a thick grove of bamboo. Various herbs are hidden within the vegetation. Although they’d be nothing more than simple plants to most, to you and your lover, they hold a value rivaling that of the most precious gemstones. To the two of you, they are opulence in the ordinary.

“Will you be alright if we split up?” you ask Baizhu. Originally, you had planned to look for herbs in separate areas. However, now that the time has come to part ways, you’re beginning to feel nervous. It will only be for a little while, and the two of you won’t be too far away from each other either. Besides, you know he’s more than competent, but you can’t help but worry about him due to his illness. Perhaps it’s because he’s worth more to you than he’ll ever know, or perhaps it’s because he loves you unconditionally, but you can’t bear the thought of harm befalling him.

“You’re concerned about me?” Baizhu chuckles, letting go of your hand to caress your cheek softly. “How endearing,” he remarks, “but you need not worry. I’ll be just fine on my own.”

Although you’re worried, you decide to trust Baizhu. His reassurance is enough for you to believe that he’ll return to you safe and sound, so you go your separate ways.

Time ticks slowly. Seconds are eons when you’re away from your lover, even when you’re preoccupying yourself by sorting through the various herbs strewn across the forest floor. You pick nothing but the best ones, recalling the knowledge you had obtained throughout various short expeditions with Baizhu.

And eventually, you find that the midday sun has graced the world, shining with an opal-tinted glow that indicates it’s time for you to meet back up with Baizhu. You head back to the spot where your paths first diverged, and sure enough, he’s there waiting for you.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for long,” you say, a grin involuntarily rising to your face as you’re faced with your lover once more.

“You didn’t,” Baizhu states, his tone reminiscent of ocean-like meadows swaying in a light summer breeze. “Although I must say, I was terribly lonely without you by my side.”

You giggle. “I felt the exact same.”

Baizhu takes a step towards you. For a second, you watch him intently, curious as to what he’s about to do. However, you have your answer soon enough. From the bouquet of verdant plants he’s holding, Baizhu pulls out a flower — pure white, each petal reminiscent of the snowflakes that adorn the winter wonderlands off in Dragonspine. With tender movements, he hands you the floret.

“For you,” he whispers.

Your smile widens, and you take a second to simply admire the flower. It’s flawless — in nothing short of pristine condition. There’s no way Baizhu accidentally picked this one. It must have taken him quite some time to find, and upon realizing that, your heart melts.

“Thank you,” you say. “It’s beautiful.”

“Is that so?” he asks. You nod.

“No wonder it reminded me of you.”

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water-to-drink · 1 year

Text

Be a Gladiolus in a Field of Belladonnas pt6

Encased In Ice

(Summary): After your sudden alliance with the fatui, it seems your plans of vengeance are possible

Part 1 Last Part Next Part

✧ Masterlist ✧

(Characters): Childe, traveler!Lumine, abyss prince!Aether, Paimon, Pulcinella, Capitano, Dottore, Pierro, Sandrone, Pantalone, The Tsarita, (the others are there they just aren’t mentioned), ??? & ???

(Warnings): Not beta read

(A/n): This took way longer than expected (writer’s block is a bitch), but it’s here. Now that I know where I want this fanfic to go hopefully y’all like what I have planned

─────────── ✧ ───────────

“DAMNIT!!!!”

The shrill voice was accompanied by the sound of a gold chalice being slammed on the marble floor

“What do you mean, there’s been no sight of them?!” Your doppelganger asked the cowering soldiers

“We’re sorry your Grace. We’ve combed through every corner and still there hasn’t been sight of them!” A nameless soldier spoke

“It’s only been a few weeks, they must be hiding somewhere!”

“We’re trying to find the imposter as best as we can-”

“Then try harder! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!!!!” The almost animalistic shriek sent the soldiers scurrying out of the room like rats

The doppelganger drags their hands across their face, revealing the dark circles that started to appear due to lack of sleep caused by anxiety

“Fuck, they’re probably assembling an army. And they’re gonna come after me and take my head like I almost took theirs….” The doppelganger grab chunks of their hair and begin to pull in an attempt to alleviate their growing panic. “Uhh? Yeah, you’re right. We just need to find them before their army can go against me. We have 6 nations and their archons under our thumb. There’s no way they can face us.” The doppelganger releases the grip on their hair. “I don’t know I would do without you…”

─────────── ✧ ───────────

The trip wasn’t that bad, the only part that you didn’t care for was trying to get Aether and Childe not to kill each other. Other than that, everything’s been alright. The crew treated you nicely, you introduced them to some card games from your world and played some of them on the regular to keep occupied

And before you knew it you reached the shore of the snowy nation, Snezhnaya. A familiar man with a short stature and tall hat waved as you walked onto the dock

“Your Grace, I’m glad you arrived to outr beauty nation safely. Though I wish it was under better circumstances.” Pulcinella said

“I’m just happy that you even allow me here, it’s nice not having to worry about being hunted down.”

“I do hope you find respite in our country, your Grace.” The elderly man turned his head toward Lumine. “I see you brought… the traveler.”

“She was the first one to help me evade capture and saved my life multiple times. Without her I wouldn’t be talking to you right now and I won’t stand for any of your subordinates to harm her or her Paimon in anyway, am I clear with that?”

“Y-yes, let me lead the way, your Grace.”

The harbinger began walking and you and your party soon follow him

“Woo, you gave Paimon a scare back there! It’s almost like you were a completely different person!”

“I have to agree with her, you looked like a sergeant giving orders to new recruits.” Childe leaned in and whispered. “This might be the only time I’ve seen him scared like this!”

Pulcinella lead you to the gate of Zapolyarny Palace. The inside looked absolutely beautiful. You walked down icy blue halls that seemed to be made of ice. The walls had intricate patterns painted onto them, a wall even a mural that was too far away to decipher them. The elderly man opened two big doors and held his head high

“Behold! The Divine Creator of Teyvat!” Pulcinella announced

All of the 8 attendees stood up and watched as you entered the room. Your eyes fixed onto the person in the center

A woman stood proud, a silver crown sat on top of icy blonde hair with light blue tips framing a pale face. Her eyes were a piercing blue and looked colder than the frigid weather outside.

The cryo archon. The Tsarita herself before you

“It is an honor to be blessed by your divine presence, your Grace.” She greeted as she and the other harbingers bowed

“There’s no need for the formalities, I’m grateful that you’re all helping me. But my double doesn’t know that I’m here, I wouldn’t want to put any of you in danger.”

“Only a select few know that you are here, your Grace. We can’t risk your safety by having knowledge of your whereabouts get leaked.” Capitano explained

“We’re already working on a plan to defeat the true imposter and as we this carry out, you can stay in palace for as long as you need.” Pierro said

“Thank you, but I request something else from you.”

“Anything, just say it and we will make come into fruition.” The Tsarita promised

“I need to take part in this plan.” The Harbingers shared glances at each other unsure of what to say. “I can’t sit around knowing that my doppelganger is out there, abusing their power and making the lives of people worse.” You put your hand on your chest. “So I request that you would lend me your resources, because I want to be the one to take my doppelganger off of the throne!”

As your voice bounced off the cold walls the Harbingers all looked at you in horror

“Your Grace, we can’t let you do that in good faith. Your powers aren’t the same as they were when you last walked Teyvat.” Sandrone pleaded

“I know, but Childe told me that you have stones that are the supposed remains of the Creator.”

“We do, but we don’t know if your human form would be able to utilize the effects of these gems and not reject it completely.” Dottore tried to reason

“Bring the gem in.”

The Harbingers turned their heads towards the Tsarita. All wanting to object but can’t bring themselves to do so

“Alright… your majesty.” Pulcinella said as he tried to stead his voice. “You heard her majesty, bring the holy stone in.” He said to an attendant guarding the door

Said attendant rushed out of the room and soon came back into the room with another attendant carting in a glass case containing a glowing stone.

Once the cart was in front of you, you admired the gem. Seeing it on a screen is one thing but seeing it glow with your own two eyes, it truly looked it was something holy

“Uh you know don’t have to do this, you might get hurt really badly.” Paimon pleaded

“She’s right, we can find another way to get your hold powers back.” Lumine suggested

“Your Grace, that is one thing I agree with them on. We nor you don’t know what would happen if you touch that stone.” Aether was the last one to urge you against this idea

For a second you thought maybe it was a bad idea to connect with it, but you had to do what needs to be done

“As I said, I’m a hell of a lot more resilient than I look.” You gave the Harbingers and the twins the most reassuring smile you could muster

You turned your attention back to the gem and mentally prepared yourself. You finally expended your hand and touched the Primogem

A flash of light enveloped you and…

Nothing happened

You looked around the room to see if anything was out of place, except for the gem being gone

“D-did the Primogem vanish?” You asked mainly to yourself

“It looked as if it had fused with you.” Aether replied

“How do you feel, is there anything out of usual?” Lumine asked

“Not that different. If the rock didn’t fuse with me I would’ve assumed it didn’t work.”

“It appears to be that these ‘Primogems’ have a lot less power than what we originally believed.” Pantalone muttered to himself

“If that’s the case, then I’ll put an order on searching these gems.” The Tsarita declared

─────────── ✧ ───────────

Things at the Grand Narukami Shrine have been… tense, to say the least

Everyone is so agitated at the news of an imposter still loose somewhere. It really isn’t a desirable environment to read light novels. But the Guuji is having much more fun listening to the shrine maidens expressing their concerns about the possibility of said impostor in their humble nation

“I’m just saying, where else would that rat go than here!” The shrine maiden Nana said

“It would be very foolish on their part, the Shogun and her army would immediately drive them out!” Hotomi scoffed

“Enough of that nonsense.”

The two shrine maiden turned towards the sound of the voice and saw the Shogun walking into view

“Al-almighty Shogun, we’re honored that you visited us, is there anything we can do for you!” Hotomi stammered through

“Leave, and tell everyone you see here to do the same.” The purple haired woman said

The two women run towards the stairs scared of the wrath they might face if they stall any longer

Once seeing that the shrine was truly empty the Shogun turned towards the youkai, who was enjoying her tea

“My, my, that was a little harsh to scare them away like that.” The Kitsune mused while standing up from her seat. “Seeing you here, I would assume you have something important to tell me.”

The head shrine maiden walked towards the taller woman

“So what do you have to tell me, puppet?”

─────────── ✧ ───────────

Taglist:

@chuuya-brainrot @creation-magician @transbirboi @tartarsaucechi1de @vvyeislazzy @kokomisimpppp @aludicpoet @undecidingfate @annoying-mary @randomnatics @ventixthexanemoxarchon @bore2808 @lizzheartz @bidisasterforevermore @dxprived4-starboys @angstylittleb1tch

If anyone wants to be on the taglist then say so

─────────── ✧ ───────────

Taglist:

@chuuya-brainrot @creation-magician @transbirbboi @tartarsaucechi1de @vvyeislazzy @kokomisimpppp @aludicpoet @undecidingfate @annoying-mary @randomnatics @ventixthexanemoxarchon @bore2808 @lizzhearthz @bidisasterforevermore @dxprived4-starboys @angstylittleb1tch

#genshin fanfic #genshin sagau #genshin imposter au #self aware genshin #genshin cult au #sagau #imposter sagau #sagau lumine #sagau aether #sagau childe #sagau fatui harbingers #sagau pierro #sagau pulcinella #sagau capitano #sagau pantalone #sagau sandrone

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universitypenguin · 1 year

Text

The Princess & the Lawyer - Part IX

Summary: Princess has a birthday! Lloyd takes her to dinner, but later he finds himself in a tight spot with Mr. Tao

Word Count: 4,966

Author’s Note: I'd like everyone to know I’m working on your asks. I appreciate everyone who’s written to me about this project. Recently, I’ve been prioritizing this chapter above everything else. Now that it’s finished, I can pay attention to other items on my to do list.

Warnings: descriptions of graphic violence, torture, fighting, blackmail, references to spying and intelligence gathering missions, implied smut and other 18+ content. No minors.

The Princess & the Lawyer Part IX

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

Lloyd stood in front of the mirror, a towel slung low around his hips, and a comb in hand. He was pretending to use it as a guide to trim his mustache. In reality, his focus was on the hotel room door. The clock had ticked past five-fifteen and his patience was running thin. He didn’t have much to spare in the patience department under the best circumstances. Since he was giddy with excitement, it was even thinner than usual.

A knock sounded.

Lloyd cleared his throat. “Princess? I’m not dressed. Would you get that?”

“Sure.”

The bedframe creaked, and the duvet rustled as you got up. Lloyd stepped back from the mirror for a better view as you opened the hotel room door.

“I have a delivery for Y/N.”

You stared at the garment bags, then the porter. “But I didn’t order anything…”

“Well, someone did.” He handed over the package.

You stared at the garment bags in your arms, baffled. “Lloyd? Did you order something?”

“Hmmm? What is it?”

He hid a grin as you laid the garment bags on the bed and opened the zippers. In the first was a men’s suit with a white dinner jacket. The other held a satin dress, champagne colored, with hand painted flowers in purple and gold.

You stroked the fabric. “Wow. This is beautiful.”

“I expected it to arrive before five,” Lloyd said.

“What’s it for?”

“It’s for tonight. Go ahead, try it on. I had the store buyer compare measurements with the dresses I found in your luggage, so it should fit.”

“You went through my clothes?”

Lloyd ignored the question and held the dress up to you. He nodded.

“I like it. Come on, let’s see it.”

You obliged, peeling off your yoga pants and the oversized shirt you’d stolen from his laundry pile. He grinned when the gown fit perfectly.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“It’s beautiful, but what’s it for? Are we going somewhere?”

Lloyd searched the bag for the rest of his purchase and found a velvet bag in the back pocket.

“The buyer picked your shoes. I told her the kinds of heels I’d seen you in before and said whatever she chose should be comfortable enough to walk in. The shoe collection was beyond my comprehension.”

You opened the velvet bag and withdrew a pair of neutral sandals in a shade that nearly matched your skin tone. They were a simple two strap design with a gold buckle on the ankle strap.

“They’re beautiful. But I’m still confused what it’s for,” you said.

“We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?”

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. “Are you messing with me?”

“Uh…No?”

“What’s today?”

“Wednesday.”

“The date, Princess? Come on.”

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s your birthday!”

He laughed when you scrambled for your phone.

“Shit, I forgot. Between everything going on and - “

Your words abruptly cut off as you groaned, and covered your face.

“After losing my virginity the birthday thing wasn’t such an issue, so it slipped my mind.”

Lloyd smirked. “Glad I could take the pressure off, sweetheart. Now get ready. We have a reservation to make.”

You were impressed with the private dinner he’d arranged for the two of you. It was an underground restaurant that operated in a different city every month. For one weekend only, it was being hosted in the penthouse of a local entrepreneur.

He had another surprise in store for you, which was why he asked the driver to use the underground entrance. If you saw the building, you might guess what his plans were.

“Where are all the other guests?” you asked, after the maître d’ had seated you on the balcony.

“There are only four tables. The chef’s table is in the kitchen, there’s a group of eight in the dining room, another couple has the table by the pool, and us.”

The waiter arrived promptly. Lloyd settled back and watched as you bantered with the young server. He enjoyed watching you relaxed and buzzing with delight. As the meal progressed, and the waiter began openly flirting with you, he was amused that he felt no jealousy. Who could resist your charm? When you were enthusiastic about something, the authenticity and warmth shone through, and it made you irresistible. When you took an interest in someone, your sincerity was impossible to ignore. Lloyd couldn’t blame the kid. He loved basking in your attention and frequently soaked up every morsel of it that you could give. Sharing the spotlight for an hour was no inconvenience. You were enjoying the banter, and he was enjoying watching your enjoyment.

“I need you to eat the rest of my steak so I have room for dessert.”

Lloyd snorted. “This is why you ate all the vegetables, isn’t it?”

“You would have turned up your nose at vegetables,” you said, as you pushed the remnants of your steak onto his plate. “By the way, they were delicious.”

“That’s an oxymoron if I’ve ever heard one.”

He happily ate your steak while you were served a decadent looking slice of chocolate cake. You lingered over the desert and despite the late hour, Lloyd ordered a cup of coffee. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and nuzzled your cheek.

“Have I told you that you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen?”

You giggled and turned into his arms. “No need to charm me. I’m a sure thing tonight.”

Then you elbowed him.

“Keep your hands to yourself, lover boy. I’m on a date with this cake.”

“I feel rejected,” Lloyd said.

He was being honest in saying you were the most beautiful thing he’d seen. You drew him like a flame drew a moth. He felt as if he were circling around you, trying to get closer and closer, but hindered by an instinct for self preservation. Even with that, he couldn’t deny the powerful attraction that pulled you towards him.

He was in love with you.

The thought didn’t strike him. It simply unveiled itself without dramatics. Like a camera lens suddenly able to focus in the right lighting, the change of scenery tonight had shown him what he’d already known was there. The real shock was his reaction. He wasn’t terrified. What was there to be afraid of? Giving up his autonomy? Letting you into his heart? Those ships had sailed a long time ago.

Lloyd was grappling with the revelation, when a flash of movement in the opposite building caught his eye. A chill went down his spine. The position was a perfect sniper’s nest. He knew he had a paranoid streak, but it was too dangerous to remain exposed when someone was out there.

“Are you ready for your birthday present?” Lloyd asked.

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

In the elevator, you tottered on your heels and clutched his shoulder for balance. He slipped a supporting arm around your waist.

“Three glasses of wine is more than your limit, Princess.”

You sighed and pressed yourself against him.

A smile tugged at his mouth. He loved how assured your movements were as you curled yourself around him like a cat. Your hands darted under his dinner jacket as you nuzzled the open collar of his shirt.

“That third glass really loosened me up,” you purred.

His breath caught as you ran your tongue over his Adam’s apple.

“There are cameras in here.”

“And?”

Lloyd groaned. “Fuck.”

“You’re so tense. I could fix that,” you murmured.

He knew you could.

After his head cleared from the phenomenal blow job you’d given him yesterday, logic had kicked in. Giving head like that wasn’t a natural skill. Even accounting for variables, such as your confidence, sensuality, and trust in him, the prowess you’d shown was abnormal. You had practice. The knowledge was driving him crazy.

Because he’d never been in a serious relationship, Lloyd had never asked a woman the details of her sexual history before. Being a virgin and being inexperienced were two different things. Lloyd wasn’t even sure the questions he wanted to ask were acceptable in this situation. Thanks to his deduction about the source of your skills, he wanted names. Locations. Times. Then, he wanted addresses…

“What are you thinking about, baby?”

Your breath teased his ear and blood heated at the floral scent of your perfume as you kissed his neck.

“I’m thinking that if I’d known what that mouth of yours was capable of, I would’ve taken you to bed the moment we met.”

“Damn. That’s…hot.”

The elevator car stopped, and the doors opened. A family of tourists with an incredible amount of luggage waited in the foyer. Lloyd extracted himself from your arms. The white haired grandmother smirked, her eyes twinkling at the picture you must have made.

“Where are we?”

Lloyd took your hand and led you down the hallway. At the end of it there was a large, brightly lit room. You stopped short, eyes widening, as a smile blossomed on your face.

“No way! You must be out of your mind,” you said, laughing.

“Wait until you see your birthday present,” Lloyd said. “Then you’ll know I’m out of my mind.”

He walked you over to the casino cage and handed the clerk his passport. She reached under the desk and passed him a briefcase.

“Enjoy your night, Mr. Hansen.”

“Thank you, we will.”

You stared up at him. “You’re encouraging me to gamble? Did you hit your head? Where’s the real Lloyd Hansen?”

“For the record, I consider gambling an activity for people who are bad at math.”

“I am bad at math,” you said.

“I’ve noticed.”

He set the briefcase down on an empty table and opened it.

“Happy Birthday, Princess. I’m bankrolling you tonight. Any poker game you want a seat at, I’ll buy it. This is all yours.”

You gasped. “Are you joking? Because this is like… twenty thousand dollars?”

“Forty.”

“Lloyd! I’m drunk! And my track record with poker is iffy.”

“You had a winning streak in Vegas-”

“Followed by a massive losing streak!”

“You’ve been practicing. Zach says you’re getting good, and he’s hard to impress. So, guess what? I decided you should have at least one night to cut loose and enjoy yourself, guilt free.”

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

You made him take half the money. Lloyd graciously accepted, since he realized the amount he’d given you was a bit too rich for your blood. Here in Singapore forty thousand wasn’t much. Except to you, of course.

He watched the first few hands of the poker game before heading over to a blackjack table. This was his game of choice. With enough practice, counting cards was easy. However, practice cost a lot of money when you were learning. He’d kept a spreadsheet of his wins and losses that went back twenty years. Thanks to excellent record keeping he knew how deep he was in the hole, down to the penny.

His net loss was currently at $5,428.32.

He might finally break even tonight. Lloyd knew he was being irrational and had to laugh at his impulse. Here he was, decades later, still caring about the gambling losses of a younger, dumber, version of himself. It might’ve taken him a long time to learn how to get away with cheating, but he was determined to at least make the skill pay for itself.

An hour later he’d reduced the net loss by a couple thousand. He glanced over to your poker game and saw your pile of chips had grown considerably. You were so absorbed by the game that you didn’t even glance in his direction.

Suddenly, his skin prickled with awareness. Lloyd felt the sensation of being watched. He cashed out of the game at the next opportunity. As he walked to your table, a flash of gray caught his eye.

Did Tao own a suit in any other color? It wasn’t helping him blend anymore. Then again, that was probably why he was sticking with it.

Tao approached your table. He stopped right behind your seat and met Lloyd’s gaze. With a subtle jerk of his head, he indicated the hall leading to the men’s room.

Lloyd watched the agent disappear down the hallway. He knew a challenge when he saw one and sensed an urgency in Tao’s manner that hadn’t been there before. Lloyd detoured to the bar, where he ordered a gin and tonic. The bartender’s tools were arranged on the counter; among them was a wicked looking ice pick. When he turned his back, Lloyd snagged it. He tucked it up his sleeve, downed his drink in one swallow, and headed for the dark hallway.

There were two details in this situation that worked in Lloyd’s favor. First, he’d been in this casino several times before and that meant he knew the layout. Second, the only well lit area of the hotel was its casino. Because Mr. Tao - aka, Eli Pruitt, desk jockey for the CIA - had limited experience, he would follow a textbook approach. Lloyd knew he was walking into an ambush.

As he pushed open the door to the men’s room, he glimpsed Eli’s shadow behind him. What an amateur.

In the men’s room, a long, narrow antechamber served as a lounge. There were plush armchairs, fizzy water, and complimentary hot towels. At the far end of the room, you made a right turn into a short hallway that led to the lavatory.

Inside of that short, very dark hallway, was an alcove. It was so well disguised Lloyd had missed it until his second visit to this hotel. As expected, Tao walked right past his hiding spot without batting an eyelash.

Lloyd waited a few seconds and stepped around the corner. He moved silently. When Tao realized he wasn’t alone, he whirled to face him.

“What do you want?” Lloyd asked.

“Singapore is interested -”

“Cut the bullshit, Eli.”

Shock made the agent’s nostrils flare. Lloyd smirked.

“Yeah. I know your name, Eli Pruitt. Newport Beach High School, class of 2007, then on to USC for a poly sci degree, recruited straight to the agency. No extensive field training - just enough that you don’t always sit behind a desk.”

“Who told you that?”

“Relax. Your station doesn’t have a mole. I can smell the CIA on you. Now, answer the question. What do you want?”

Eli squared his shoulders.

“China placed an asset inside of Bishop & Howard. We need your help to unmask him.”

Lloyd chuckled. “He must be bored. There’s not much to spy on at B&H.”

“You’d be surprised. We thought it was you until today. The spy sent a manual data transfer from a server in DC to his bosses in Beijing. I’ve been watching your every move, so we know it isn’t you.”

“And now that I’m in the clear, you think I’ll become your eyes and ears in the firm.”

“That’s our proposal,” Eli said.

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

Lloyd sneered. “I don’t do intelligence work anymore. If you want to poke around in the firm, be my guest. But I want nothing to do with it.”

Eli’s eyes narrowed. “If that’s your position, we’re going to have an issue.”

“Oh, no! An issue?! Do tell. What kind of issue?”

Malice flashed across Eli’s face. The sight made the hair on Lloyd's neck stand up. He recognized that expression. He’d worn it frequently in his former life, usually right before eviscerating an unsuspecting schmuck.

“Your co-worker, Miss Y/L/N, plans to attend law school. It’d be a shame if they automatically rejected her application upon submission. When the federal government puts a red flag on your name, that can happen. It also makes international traveling an absolute nightmare… you wouldn’t know anything about that, of course.”

Lloyd’s jaw flexed. “Are you blackmailing me?”

“Nope. Your involvement is irrelevant. Mistakes are made, and sometimes files get flagged by accident because of human error. It’s just an unfortunate reality. But it’s too bad someone couldn’t have prevented such a consequential incident for Miss Y/L/N, isn’t it?”

Rage bubbled in his chest as Eli smirked.

“Well, life is full of disappointments. She’ll recover.”

The rage boiled over. Eli moved toward the exit and was taken off guard when Lloyd struck as fast as a cobra. He landed a right jab on the man’s cheekbone, grabbed him around the chest, and flung him into the row of sinks. Before he could recover, Lloyd had hauled him to his feet and swung him around to face the mirror. Holding Eli like a human shield, he shoved the tip of the bartender’s ice pick into his throat.

“It would be a shame if no one prevented such a tragedy. Tell me, who authorized that plan? Ruining someone else’s future to identify a poorly positioned mole? Give me the name of the asshole running your station. Who’s your boss?”

Eli gasped, wincing as Lloyd pressed the blade into his jugular.

“Name.”

“Kevin Whyms!”

Lloyd’s grip eased. “Whyms?”

“Yeah.”

Eli was telling the truth. Lloyd laughed.

“You have balls… for a desk agent.”

He slammed Eli’s face into the porcelain sink. Blood spewed from his nose and mouth. Lloyd did it one more time for good measure, then braced his forearm across Eli’s back to pin him down. He adjusted his grip and stabbed the ice pick behind the ear, through the mastoid and into the lobe. Eli screamed. Lloyd covered his mouth.

The ice pick wasn’t sharp enough. He dropped it into the sink and dug the Swiss Army Knife he always carried out of his pocket. It was all the airlines allowed you to pack these days, but it was very sharp. He pinned the struggling man to the sink and used the little blade to finish his work. When he was two-thirds of the way finished Lloyd grabbed the ear and ripped, pulling down and back. Eli screamed. Lloyd tossed the detached ear into the sink in front of his face.

“I’m going to tell you this once. No one gets away with threatening the people I care about. The Chinese spy is your problem. I want you to run back to Kevin and tell him I said so. And good luck explaining why I sliced off your ear.”

Eli was still dazed, but Lloyd read the confusion in his eyes.

“I know Kevin Whyms. We went through SERE school together. You get to know a guy in that kind of training. That’s why I’m absolutely sure Kevin didn’t approve of your blackmail scheme. He’s as straight as an arrow. Trust me, I tried to bribe him once.”

Lloyd wiped his knife off on the back of Eli’s jacket and stalked into the lounge. He checked his reflection and stripped off the bloodstained white dinner jacket. He turned it inside out to hide the red blotches and draped it over his arm.

Sauntering through the casino as if he didn’t have a care in the world, Lloyd made his way back to the bar. He dropped the bartender’s ice pick into a bus boy’s tray and headed toward a table with a view of your poker game.

The table was occupied by a man. When Lloyd recognized him, the blood drained from his face.

“What are you doing here?”

“So, that’s how it is. No, ‘Hello, Court. Nice to see you again. How’ve you been since I tried to kill you eight years ago?’”

“Seven years,” Lloyd corrected.

Courtland Gentry shrugged.

“Seven, eight. Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“What do you want, Six?”

“I’m hunting a Chinese spy, who until this afternoon, I thought was you. A little birdie told me you turned down the CIA’s offer, so I decided I’d make you a better one.”

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

You were having such a good time that you didn’t notice the phone call.

There was no room for distractions when playing high stakes poker. It wasn’t until two hours later when you were cashing out your chips, that you checked the log to see who’d been calling.

Immediately, you tried them back. It went straight to voicemail.

Son of a bitch.

You were in the middle of cursing your bad luck when another call lit up your screen. Your heart leapt, then sank. The incoming call wasn’t from the unsaved number, it was from a contact.

“Hello, Westin.”

“Good evening, Y/N.” Your supervisor’s voice was as smooth as silk, but as pleasant as his tone was, your neck turned stiff. “I apologize for calling so late.”

He sounded anything but sorry.

“What can I do for you?”

“There’s an issue with your time card,” Westin said.

“Alright. What is it?”

“Did you put in your hours on the day you traveled?”

“Yes.”

“Well, those aren’t supposed to be paid hours.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Yes, I’ll need your permission to make an edit.”

“No.” The word was out of your mouth before he’d even finished his sentence.

“Excuse me?” Westin’s voice went up and octave in pitch.

Usually, this was where you cringed and dropped the subject. You just couldn’t tolerate speaking to Westin Tafferty longer than was absolutely necessary. He had the most unpleasant voice when he was upset. The sound was like a shrill whistle, and it hurt your ears. The problem wasn’t that you couldn’t stand up to your supervisor. It was that your eardrums demanded you spend the least time possible damaging them by having a conversation with him.

“I’ll review the HR policy in the morning and contact a representative. Once I’ve gone over the details with them, you and I can meet with a representative. Having a third party involved will make sure this is resolved appropriately.”

You weren't sure why you’d picked this hill to die on, but it was nice to hear Westin backpedaling. He insisted there was no need for HR involvement and you countered every argument he put forward with surprising efficiency. Rather than fall for his distractions, you turned the conversation to your availability and suggested possible times you could both meet with HR next week. By the time you hung up, you were grinning. It was fun to have Westin on the ropes. His shrill voice and your ringing ears aside, that had been fun.

The annoyance of the missed call was lodged under your skin, but there was nothing to be done about it tonight.

On the bright side, you’d cashed out a six thousand dollar profit from the game. The check for your winnings was in your purse. A separate check for the amount Lloyd had loaned you was beside it. He would argue, but you couldn’t take his money. It made you feel icky. Since you’d made a considerable profit, you knew he’d fold without too much trouble.

You threw your shoulders back and set aside thoughts of missed calls, annoying supervisors, and your stalker. It wasn’t terribly hard to brush off Aiden’s stalking. Not while you were on another continent with Lloyd close by. He was the pinnacle of security blankets. The dread curling in your stomach had more to do with the fact that you were going home tomorrow than with any of the problems currently on your plate.

The last place you’d seen Lloyd was at the casino’s bar. When you scanned the area, there was no Lloyd in sight.

“What can I get for you, miss?”

“I’ll take a martini, please. By the way, have you seen a tall, dark haired man with a mustache? He’s wearing a white dinner jacket.”

The bartender shook her head. “No, not tonight.”

You took your martini and climbed off the barstool, nearly colliding with another patron when you turned around. Half of your drink splashed on the floor. Fortunately, none of it landed on the blond man’s suit.

“I’m so sorry,” you gasped.

“It’s alright. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

You tilted your head back to meet the tall man’s gaze. He had warm blue eyes, which scanned you from head to toe. The pursual was slow and conducted with a level of attention that made you think he could describe your exact measurements if someone asked him to. His intentness didn’t carry a sexual vibe. If anything, his alertness reminded you of Zach and Lloyd.

“I made you spill your drink. Can I buy you another?”

Okay… maybe your radar was totally off. Was this a pick up, or was he just being nice?

If it was a pick up attempt, that was pretty cool. You rarely had guys hit on you in the wild. Having a man sexy enough to star in a Bond film approach you was kind of thrilling.

Lloyd appeared out of nowhere, suddenly by your side.

“Princess, are you ready to go?”

“Uh…”

The stranger interjected. “She hasn’t finished her drink.”

Lloyd snarled at him. This seemed to amuse the blond man, who winked at you. For a split second, his eyes dipped to the low neckline of your dress, then back to your face. His eyes were dancing with mischief. You caught his sly look at Lloyd - so quick you almost missed it - and the spark of satisfaction at whatever he saw there.

This guy must get his kicks by risking his life.

“Gentry, why don’t you get lost?” Lloyd growled.

“No harm meant, pal. I’m gone.”

Lloyd stared daggers into the stranger’s back as he walked away. Only when he was out of sight did he take a full breath. You watched him with interest, noting the lines of stress bracketing his mouth.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“I’m fine. Let’s go cash out your chips.”

“I already did.”

He swept you under his arm, close to his body. “Good. Our car is waiting out front.”

You had to lengthen your stride to keep up with him as he all but dragged you toward the exit. Ordinarily, you’d be pissed at his behavior, but there was a tension about him that worried you.

“Lloyd? What’s wrong?”

“Not here. I promise I’ll tell you about it, but not here.”

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

“You cut off the CIA agent’s ear!”

“As a warning.”

“You can’t cut off people’s ears!”

Lloyd blinked. “Is this a fight? Are we having a fight?”

You groaned. “I think I’m in shock.”

He was concerned by the goosebumps on your arms and the dazed look in your eyes. Perhaps he shouldn’t have told you about his altercation with Eli in so much detail. It was hard to know how much to share, or to edit out of the narrative, when he didn’t have the natural revulsion to blood and violence that other people did. You wrapped your arms around yourself and rocked back and forth on the edge of the bed.

After sweeping the hotel suite for bugs, Lloyd had explained everything that had happened. There were only a few details he’d left out, and those were strictly for your safety. Unfortunately, most of your reaction was probably from seeing his blood stained white dinner jacket. He had rinsed it off in the shower and soaked it in a healthy amount of bleach to cover up the evidence.

“He threatened you. I reacted accordingly.”

Your lips compressed. “There were no other solutions? You know Eli’s boss. Couldn’t you just have called him?”

“Cutting off Eli’s ear sends a message. It wasn’t about him, it was about getting a message across to the whole agency. In such a way that they can’t ignore it or forget. Everyone in the intelligence community will know by tomorrow morning, if not sooner, that there’s a price to pay for cornering me in a bathroom.”

You considered that and nodded, but tucked your chin closer to your chest.

“Word of what I did to him will spread and it’ll prevent another situation like tonight from happening again. I have to put out a clear deterrent to all the Eli Pruitts of the world to protect the people I care about.”

To protect you. It hung in the air unsaid, but you knew what he meant.

Lloyd sighed. “I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted tonight to end.”

“What happened tonight isn’t your fault. I don’t think that at all. But I’m worried about you and how serious the fallout will be.”

He absorbed that thought and felt his shoulder muscles knot up.

“Would you feel safer if we switched hotels?”

“I’m not worried about myself. Also, why was Court Gentry there? What did he want?”

Lloyd's mouth went dry. He knew he had to lie. Because among the details he’d chosen to leave out of the story, one of them was very important. The Chinese spy in the firm. He couldn’t tell you about the mole because it would endanger your life.

“Gentry was after the same thing as Tao. Both of them wanted my help to gain sensitive information. I can’t tell you more than that.”

You rubbed your hands over your thighs. “Okay. I understand. I’m sorry. I know to you, it probably seems like I’m overreacting-”

Lloyd stepped forward and knelt down, placing his hands on top of yours. They were as cold as ice against his. You shivered, and he opened his arms at the same moment you flung yourself into them. He gathered you close and rocked back and forth. You shuddered. He squeezed you tighter, murmuring reassurances that rolled off his tongue with shocking ease.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here, Princess. I’ve got you.”

He felt the tiny little shivers rippling through you as you plastered yourself as close to him as possible. What happened tonight had scared you. He had scared you, and that was unacceptable. Lloyd made a split second decision.

“I’m changing our tickets. We’re going home tonight.”

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

Next - Part X

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

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