#Watch Me Drive Them Dogs Wild | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

grenadehearts · 2 months ago

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get undressed, and bare yourself, for my eyes only.

warnings: wlw, gender swapped katsuki, smut, overstimulation, oral reader!receiving, top!katsuki, praise, thigh r!ding, finger svcking, fvcking infront of a mirror. masterlist link. not proofread.

authors note: this is not my best work been going through a slump rn, but had to get smth out for fem!katsuki since shes been taking up my mind baddd. reblogs + likes are much appreciated! word count 2k.

Thinking about fem!Katsuki, who absolutely hates the outfits you wear—not because they’re ugly, but because they’re inconvenient as hell. And she knows what’s coming, like clockwork: your sweet little voice drawing out a syrupy “babyyyy,” bottom lip jutted out in that way that makes her pussy ache, drives her wild, makes her wanna fuck you till you forget what your pretty mouth was even complaining about.

Maybe then you'll finally learn not to dress like that when you know it’s gonna be a whole thing.

Like earlier today when you insisted on doing a full beat before a hike. She watched, arms crossed, grumbling from the bathroom counter while you overlined your cupid’s bow and flicked your eyeliner just right. Your face already so damn pretty—and you’re still adding more.

She’d never admit it out loud, but she loves watching you do your makeup. Thinks you look so damn pretty, loves how focused you get, the steady hand when you do eyeliner, the cute face scrunch you do—it all makes her weak. But that doesn’t stop her from being a brat about it. She leans forward, grabs your chin, and plants a messy, tongue-filled kiss right onto your freshly glossed lips—then pulls back laughing as you gasp and swat at her.

“I did tell ya. Ain’t no point doin’ your makeup,”

“You don't need all that. Hot as fuck out, ya just gonna complain.”

Then when you walked out in a pretty light pink baby tee and mini shorts—

She had narrowed her eyes, scanning your bustful figure, then she scoffed, “Ya gonna regret that choice, baby.”

And what happened five minutes into the hike?

Exactly what she predicted.

You stumbled into a branch, fell into a patch of dirt, and let out that familiar whiny little whimper, “Sukiiiii…”

She sighed hard, boots crunching on the forest floor as she turned around, crouching beside you with a cocked brow. Her spiky blonde hair shifted with the movement.

“What’s the magic word?” she asked, voice full of smug amusement.

You glared.

She grinned. “C’mon. Use that pretty mouth—I know that tongue of yours works.”

You grumbled under your breath, cheeks flaming red. “You were right.”

“Atta girl,” she smirked before effortlessly scooping you up over her shoulder, hand patting your ass and dusting the leaves off all while doing so.

“Hmph. You don’t have to carry me like this!” you grumble in annoyance.

“And you don’t gotta be a pain in my ass, but you are,” she grumbled.

Annoyed, you bit her shoulder.

“Ow—brat.” She adjusted you with a huff, now carrying you bridal-style. “There. Better, you idiot?”

“So damn annoying…” she muttered, but yet her hold never faltered.

Back at the car, she set you in the passenger seat and knelt down between your legs, hands caging you in on either side as she reached into the backseat for the spare bag. She pulled out one of your comfier shirts and a pair of her basketball shorts—ones that hung low on your hips, just the way she hated everyone else seeing.

She held them up with a cocky grin. “Alright, princess. Lift up.”

You raised your arms, rambling on about how you “didn’t think you’d actually fall” and “it wasn’t that deep,” while she dressed you with gentle ease, no roughness apparent.

“S’fine. I gotcha.”

When you were done, you started pouting again, facial features crumbling like a kicked dog, as you whined, “I look ugly now.”

Her expression softened—eyebrows furrowed as she leaned in close, lips ghosting over yours. You could feel the warmth of her breath.

So close that if you were to exhale, your lips would touch.

“Dummy,” she muttered, flicking your forehead, then tugged you up by the waist. “C’mon. Let’s finish the hike.”

Yeah, she hated the inconvenience of your outfits. But that didn’t mean she didn’t love taking them off your pretty body.

Especially tonight.

Fresh from your shower, skin still dewy, you came out wearing a black dress, delicate lace adorning your chest, those thigh highs riding down just enough to tease the skin she loved biting. Sitting there, all done up and perfect.

She didn’t even let you leave the bathroom.

Before you could blink, she had you cornered against the bathroom counter, hands gripping your thighs.

“Ya look so fuckin’ pretty, y’know that?” she growled, nipping at the skin of your neck as her tongue swirled soothing circles over them. You giggled, soft and warm, the sound echoing inside her chest, turning her insides into goopy mush.

Your fingers ghosted up to brush the scar that bloomed over her cheek, admiring her flushed face and heavy eyes.

“You’re so pretty, Suki. My pretty baby.”

She groaned, burying her face in your neck, hands creeping up under your dress. “Stop sayin’ dumb shit like that.”

Normally, you’d argue. Lecture her about how it wasn’t dumb. But instead, you kissed her—letting her know with soft kisses, that you meant every word you said.

And that kiss turned into you sprawled out on the plush bed you both shared, dress hitched up, lace panties askew, while she hovered above—her baggy jeans and worn-out skull tee blocking your view from bare skin.

“Mph—off,” you mumbled, wriggling beneath her as you tugged at her shirt.

She caught your hands, and lifted the shirt off with a roll of her eyes—exposing her soft, milky breasts with hardened pink buds, Calvin Klein waistband peeking above her jeans before those, too, hit the floor. She climbed back over you, lips crashing to yours, one hand gripping your thigh and slowly inching up.

“Told you,” she murmured against your skin. “Told you not to wear that.”

“Suki,” you whined. “Not right now…”

“Nah.” She bunched your dress up to your breasts, kissing along your belly. “Lemme finish.”

Her lips pressed lower, mouth hot and wet against your skin. You squirmed and gasped, full of need—she looked up through her lashes, pupils blown wide, lips pouty and red, face flushed.

She looked cruel in the amber glow of your bedroom, sun slipping behind the clouds.

“Don’t ever stop wearin’ that stupid shit,” she muttered between kisses. “Fuckin’ love it on ya. Love takin’ it off ya.”

Then she nipped at your thigh and you let out a breathy yelp, fingers tangling in the sheets as your hips bucked.

“Don’t stop,” she rasped out again, against the skin of your thighs.

She trailed lower, one hand sprawling your thighs apart, leaving your glistening pussy pink and pretty for her eyes. She hiked your legs over her shoulders, her lips curling into a cruel smirk only adding to the pool of wetness between your legs, as she cursed low and raspy under her breath, her hands grabbing your dress and pulling it off your body with need.

“Wanna see those pretty tits bounce when I get you screaming,” she growled, crawling back down and positioning herself between your legs. “You’re fucking soaked for me, huh?” Her voice was rough with desire. “Such a needy girl.”

She moved back down, settling between your legs, breath ghosting over your soaked core.

“So wet for me already,” she murmured, lips brushing slightly against your folds.

She lowered her head fully, her tongue swiping through your slick folds, muffling more curses and praise as she devoured you like she could never get enough. Her hands gripped your thighs, keeping you still as your hips bucked into her face, desperate for more.

“Fuck, you taste so fucking good,” she muttered against your core, her tongue diving deeper as her eyes locked on yours, filled with hunger. “Can’t get enough of this sweet pussy.”

Your hands tangled in her hair, tugging her closer, and you gasped, “Suki—more, please, fuck, please, more…”

She sucked your clit hard, making your thighs tremble. You were unraveling, breaths choked out between whimpers and gasps. But she didn’t let you release—not yet.

“Beg,” she growled, lips brushing your soaked cunt. “Come on, baby. Wanna hear you really beg for it.”

You whimpered, grinding against her mouth, voice fractured and incoherent. Your body squirmed, overwhelmed. And then—she stopped.

Abruptly.

She crawled up your body in a haze of heat, her chain dragging cool metal over your fevered skin. You shivered. Her hand caught your jaw and guided your mouth open, slipping her thumb past your lips.

“Missed you,” she whispered, before kissing you hard, biting your bottom lip until you tasted iron and her spit and yourself.

Her mouth dragged lower, teeth scraping your collarbone, tongue swirling over your nipple until it puckered. Then she latched on, sucking until your back arched off the bed.

“Suki—f-feels so good—fuck—”

You moaned, clutching her hair tighter, grinding your cunt into her stomach. Her mouth wet on your breast.

Quickly She moved back down, to your needy, sopping pussy, and you spread your folds eagerly. “Look at you, so fucking perfect,” she growled. “Gonna ruin you again, don’t worry.”

You moaned in response, your body already trembling as she dove back in, her tongue flicking and thrusting into you with wild abandon. “Fuck, Suki…” you gasped, gripping her hair tighter, feeling the tension build inside you.

“Fuck—can’t take this,” she moaned into your cunt as you came, crying out, your slick coating her mouth. She didn’t stop. She licked you clean like it was worship, like she was starving for you.

“So fuckin’ ruined for me. Just how I like you.”

She lifted you easily, fingers digging into the fat of your ass, and set you onto her thigh. Her eyes burned with want.

“Ride me, princess. Wanna see you make a mess all over me.”

You whined, exhaustion creeping in your bones. overstimulated with tears welling in your eyes.

“Suki, please—wanna feel you inside me.”

You reached for her hand, guiding it down, but she pulled away with a slight turn of her lips, slipping those fingers into your mouth instead.

“Suck.” she demanded, and you obeyed eagerly. Which shut you up. As you You begin grinding against her thigh, your wetness smearing on her skin with every rub. Her fingers dug into your hips as she groaned, head tipping back.

“Fuck, baby… just like that.”

She brushed your hair from your face, her palm warm and soft against your cheek.

“My pretty girl,” she rasped, eyes locked on your flushed, needy face. “So fuckin’ pretty. Don’t ever say otherwise, you hear me?”

She smacked your ass, making you yelp and ride her harder, breasts bouncing with every desperate roll of your hips.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous—can’t take it—gonna show you just how pretty you are.”

You whimpered, clinging to her, exhausted and full of need for her fingers in your pussy.

Then she hoisted you again, muscles rippling as she carried you in front of the mirror.

settling behind you, your back to her chest, her slick pussy pressed against your ass. Her arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you open and on display.

Her fingers trailed slowly down your front.

“Look at you. Look how fuckin’ beautiful you are.”

She kissed your neck, teeth nipping your skin with feverish bites, and whispered,

“Say it. Say you’re pretty. I wanna hear you.”

You turned your head shyly, voice muffled in her neck, cheeks burning.

“I’m so pretty…”

“Again.” Her voice was rough, her fingers hovering just at your soaked entrance, teasing.

“Pretty. Pretty. Pretty,” you repeated, breathless.

Then she plunged two fingers inside you, curling them just right.

“Good girl." Her praise sent a rush of heat straight through you, your mouth falling open as you tried to ride her hand.

She added another finger, fucking you hard and fast, your wetness slicking her knuckles. Your head fell back against her shoulder as you came, pussy spasming around her fingers.

She pulled them out with a wet pop, sucking them clean.

“Taste so fuckin’ good.” She rasped out around her fingers, licking your sweetness clean off them.

She turned you around to face her, sitting you in her lap, fingers still glistening with your cum.

“Taste yourself, princess,” she cooed, sliding them into your mouth. Watching the saliva drip from the corners of your lips, as you sucked on her cum coated fingers.

taglist: @twoplayergaymers @socialobligation @van9lla @dienamiight @sk1ppy-art @ni-aaaaaaa @kelisewrites @chosostonguepiercing @izzymff @swuzzin @aryuunachigiri @badslittlemuffin @yuhkai @candiiee @ugh-ellie69 @khloefrlsss @camydoesstuff @11thlife02 @alixezae @diamondocean001 @izycarrot7 @vivitg @cupkiki @wonubby @lotusstarr @tatumsscream96 @babriye @cphlo @mwahs-stuff @r0m4nth33rizzl3rr @makaroni-and-chez @mightydynamight @soundtrqck @gethexxed

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anglbunny · 2 months ago

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mood change ♡ isagi yoichi

cw: smut mdni, mean isagi, degrading, based on this ask

⸝⸝♡⸝⸝♡

You’d never seen him like that before.

Not your Isagi. Not the boy who kissed your forehead every morning, who helped you zip up your jacket, who looked at you like you were made of stars and porcelain.

But out there on the field?

He was something else entirely. Jaw clenched, eyes wild, barking insults like he wanted blood instead of goals. You’d heard him call someone a dumbass, seen him shove a guy off the ball with a snarl that didn’t belong on someone so good.

And it stayed with you. Echoed in your head long after the match ended.

So when you're curled up on the couch later, wearing one of his oversized jerseys and nothing else, you say it.

Half a tease, half a confession. “You’re… kinda hot when you’re angry.”

He freezes. Just for a second. Then slowly turns his head toward you.

“What?”

Your stomach flips.

“I mean, like—on the field. You’re usually all soft with me, but when you’re yelling and pissed off and calling people names—” You shrug, trying to sound casual. “It’s… hot.”

You don’t even get to blink before you’re under him.

His body pins yours to the couch, heavy, warm, eyes dark.

“You like that, huh?” he murmurs, voice low and dangerous, nothing like the sweet tone he usually uses on you. his demeanor instantly changed like someone flipped a switch in him. you stared up at him with wide doe eyes not knowing how to react“You like seeing me pissed?”

Your breath stutters. “I—”

Too late. He's usually high from adrenaline after a game but this is just completely different.

He grabs your thighs, spreads them rough and fast, dragging your panties to the side, hissing at the sight of your glistening pussy. "so fucking... messy" he groans, sliding his fingers up and down to ease you, your body trembling beneath him.

he pulls his sweats down below his cock, fisting it, keeping his eyes locked on you. you let out a needy moan when he prods his cock against your entrance, he smirks before pushing the tip in, watching your lips part, letting out the most delicious moan.

“You wanna see that side of me?” he grins against your neck, sliding inside in one hard thrust that knocks the breath out of your lungs. “Then take it.”

Your gasp turns into a moan, hands scrambling for something, anything, to hold onto as he fucks you with a pace that’s brutal, raw, unrelenting.

“This what you wanted?” he hisses in your ear. “You like when I treat you like a filthy little thing? Like a dumb slut who gets wet when I’m mean?”

Your answer is a choked whimper, back arching as he drives into you, every thrust slamming your thoughts out of your skull.

“Fuck—look at you,” he grits out, grabbing your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. “So desperate. So needy. You like being ruined by the me, huh?”

You’re soaking, trembling, eyes rolling back when he slaps your thigh and growls, “Say it. Say you like it when I’m mean to you.”

“I—I love it,” you cry, breathless, broken. “I love when you’re rough—please, don’t stop.”

He groans, hips stuttering, sweat dripping onto your skin as he ruts into you like he can’t get deep enough. His fingers dig into your hips, bruising, claiming.

“Good girl,” he pants, thrusts getting sloppy. “Fucking made for me.”

And as you fall apart under him, you realize something terrifyingly addictive:

You’ll never look at him the same way again.

bonus: post nut clarity when he's clinging to you like a lost dog, apologizing repeatedly for being so mean and calling you such harsh names. he's not letting you go, kissing you everywhere to apologize

TL: @samm1e13 @demiitria @syleepy @chaoslibra @bontenxo @pinkymangacaps @riinniies @samthesimp1 @sapphireluv @s4turnx1 @nevvynev @cookiesandcreammy @rinniebinniebay @ravenbc @kamelika @luvsymai @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @silverwings920 @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @yanderebluelockfan @valexqpt @bigclownshoes @rinniewinnie787 @satorella @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @mihyas-dieehefrau

A/n: thank you for the request!! i loved this smm. i highkey could not imagine isagi being mean or degrading his gf but this is for educational purposes

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist]

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strawb3rryhachi · 2 months ago

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“When did you get so sensitive here, Sy?” You purr, embracing him from behind, slowly releasing the clamps so they bite down gingerly on his nipples. His head lolls back, back pressed firmly against the chair he was sat in, crimson eyes locking with yours in sweet, sweet pleasure.

“Kitten— ah— more. Please.” He begs, though it’s comes out as a breathy whine as hands struggle against the flimsy restraints. He knows it’d take less of an effort to break out of them than it does to keep a lid on his self control. Your scent is in the air driving him mad, and that sadistic little glint in your eye makes his cock twitch with glee.

“More what, my love?” You coo, caressing his face softly, fingers dancing on his lips teasingly, “No use in being shy now.”

His jaw goes slack, eyes still boring into yours like a well trained dog as your digits slip past his parted lips, fish hooking the inside of his cheek to open that perfect mouth ever wider.

Tsk-ing at him for his lack of response, too enamored with the way your brow furrows, that hateful little look in your eye when he disobeys as you tug on the chains, the clamps pulling his nipples intoxicatingly taut. Mewling, tears of pleasure beading at the corners of his eyes.

You were like a beautiful little reflection, a relentless conqueror in your own right. Both of you feeding into the others ever growing greed and depravity. An ever evolving cycle of exchanging power.

“Be a good little pet and I’ll give you a reward.” You smile, your eyes wild and alight with a burning fervor to watch the big, bad man in front of you crumble by your hand.

“Touch me more. Please.” It’s hoarse and desperate, the image of you dominating him alone is enough to leave him spurting hot thick cum into his briefs most nights, actually seeing it without cumming on the spot is an intense act of self control.

You hum a small sound of approval, “Show me your tongue, pretty.” You gush, hearts practically forming in your eyes while you watch it loll out, drool cascading off the pointy tip and dripping down his chest.

And he should probably feel more embarrassed, shouldn’t enjoy being called feminine little nicknames as much as he does.

But, he can’t help the precum spilling from the tip of his blushing pink head as you cradle his jaw so mean and rough, craning his neck so his cheek is pressed flush against your plush breasts, nipples all but poking out of the top of your bra. Spitting into his maw so deviously, letting it pour slowly between you and into his eager mouth.

He can’t help the desperate little ‘thank you’s’ falling out of his mouth, especially not when you’re reaching down and finally touching his cock. He’s whimpering, the sweet, minty taste of you burning down his throat as your thumb plugs up his weeping tip.

“Would you like some for your cock as well, honey?” Your breathy whisper on the shell of his ear sends electric shocks down his spine. He’s bucking his hips so hungrily against your touch, only to put more pressure on that all too sensitive tip.

He’s nodding, mouth open but no sound escaping. You consider being cruel, making him use his words or threatening to leave him high and dry for the rest of the night.

It was a very attractive consideration. He’d probably end up rutting against you in bed just to feel some sort of relief, and another cycle of punishment would inevitably begin again.

But, you decided he’d been quite the good boy, he deserved a little grace. For now.

So you did as he so clearly needed, spitting aggressively on his achy head, the sensation making his balls squeeze.

You sauntered to his side, bending down so your clothed pussy was inches away from his face. Your sickly sweet scent invading his senses so meanly. You slowly untied his restraints, freeing both of his hands in minutes instead of seconds.

He looks up at you, eyes wide in anticipation of your next order, cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

“On your knees, baby.” You lilt, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead before stepping back. And he’s always been an exceedingly good listener so, like a good pup, he drops to his knees, dick slapping against heavily his stomach as his shins touch the cool marble.

“Let me see you cum, my love.” You smile, feeling an overwhelming sense of blood rushing glee as you watch his face drop, knowing he thought you’d be the one making him reach a mind melting orgasm. He whimpers, one hand gripping his shaft while the other wraps around his balls, unmoving.

You tut at him, “And to think I was going to let you eat my pussy.” You tease, pulling your panties to the side, displaying that pretty pink clit he so desperately wants to lick at as you use your other hand to spread your lips.

His hand squeezes involuntarily around his shaft, a deranged smile spreading across his beautiful features. “ ‘M ready to be your perch, kitten.”

And god, was the man beautiful. His eyes looking at you so lovingly as he pulled insatiably at his throbbing cock, your saliva squelching and bubbling through the gaps in his fingers, dripping down and coating his balls as he tugged and tugged at them.

“So good f’me, Sy.” You gush, standing on your tip toes to sit your puffy folds on his face, sinking down before gripping his silver locks, making him focus. “No cumming before me now.”

That wouldn’t prove to be too hard, he makes quick work of pulling your clit between his lips, suckling and nibbling on the bundle of nerves, eyes fluttering as they so desperately wanted to close in unadulterated pleasure.

“You taste so good, sweetie. So perfect.” He mewls, palm pulsing as he tries to replicate the last time he felt your plush walls milking and stretching around his cock.

You can’t help but praise him and belittle him, little breaths of “You look so pretty down there.” and “The big, bad leader of Onychinus is such a slut.” between giggles and held back moans.

His head is dizzying as he drinks in your nectar, your sweet slick pooling around the corners of his mouth, dripping down his chin as he struggles to collect it all in his crazed devouring. He’s bucking his slutty hips into his hand, releasing his balls to add another hand to his needy, long shaft. Crying fucked out sounds of pleasure into your pussy that serve as another stimulant.

And it’s then you decide to punish him no more. His brow furrowing as he chases and denies his own orgasm. He looked so perfect like this. A man of poise and status reduced to nothing but a begging, achy mess at your beck and call.

He sobbed as you pulled your drooling cunt from him, a stringy mix of slick and saliva the only thing tethering you, but just like a good dog, he continues his assault on his cock.

“No, please. ‘M sorry. I’ll do it better.” He pleads, hungry and yearning for the taste of you. Sometimes you wonder how you could’ve become so twisted as to enjoy this sight, but those thoughts don’t stick around for long.

Not as your pulling your panties the rest of the way off and stuffing them in his mouth. Watching his eyes cross and roll back as you, his one and only angel, his savior, come down to his level, swatting his hands away from his cock and gripping them in your own.

And he thinks this is the end for him, that this was the last reward you were going to bestow upon him. But he’s seeing stars as you hover over him, sliding the precum dribbling from his tip against your cock hungry cunt. All he can do is let out pathetic little cries with a smile.

Your head rolls back, a throaty moan escaping from you as you sink down onto him, taking every girthy inch in one go, needy hole stretching so deliciously around him.

“Oh Sy, I’ve been teasing you so long I forgot how good your cock feels.” You croon, fingers interlocking at the back of his neck. The praise isn’t helping the knot in his stomach that’s struggling to keep from snapping, trying to be oh so good for his precious kitten.

You’re mean too, wholly unfair. Cruel really. Holding him in place so he has to look into your pretty eyes as you tell him how good he is, how you wanted to break him in front of a crowd of people, show everyone who the Boss truly was, a good boy who sucks on panties while you fuck him. The way you tighten your walls around him purposefully in rhythm with every slide down on his cock, was damning him to eternal punishment.

His fingers were creating dents in the floor as he did everything he could to hold himself back, your ass slapping so furiously against his thighs, his balls covered in your cream and slick. He was babbling muffled, incoherent plea’s. Back and forth between begging you to let him cum and sobbing for you to slow down so he didn’t.

His length is prodding so perfectly against that spongey spot inside you, your mind going blank as you gush your release all over him. Like a dam that had broke, pooling on the floor underneath you, beading down his toned abdomen.

A switch inside him flips, the sounds of his pussy drunk moans reverberating in the space between you as he finally cums, his hips lifting to reach as deep inside you as he can, painting every inch of your insides white. His cock is pulsing, his orgasm almost painful as every nerve of his body is being lit on fire. He’s panting, whining, pathetic as his head lolls forward to rest on your shoulder. A myriad of ‘thank you’s falling from his lips.

You find pleasure in the feeling of it gushing out of you, absentmindedly pushing it out to make way for his still hard cock as he’s fucking up into you, that primal part of his brain overtaking him.

You rudely pop off him, letting the remaining mix of arousal pool on that patch of silver on his pelvic bone while he’s still twitching and groaning. You make your way toward the shower, but not before looking over your shoulder to give him one last tease.

“Next time, be prepared for my fingers.”

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

hi pookies posting earlier than i was planning hehe(: this one is a lot longer than my previous ones <3 i hope u enjoy my little freaks. HACHI LOVES U FOREVAAAA

xoxo

Hachi

#sub sylus #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #sylus qin #i love whipped sylus #sylus x you #sylus x mc #sylus x reader #lnds sylus #sylus smut #hachiwrites( :

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cafterdark · 2 years ago

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There's something about gradual mind breaking that drives me wild.

Imagine this. Your life is shit, you're stuck ina deadend cubical job. 9-5 bullshit galore. One day, you're assigned to train a new coworker. She's pretty, way above your league. And yet she's kind. She compliments you and your skills honed to perfection working these bullshit shifts. But still, she's way prettier than you so you feel awkward even acknowledging them.

The two of you have lunch together. The two of you were talking, and she was still complimenting you for some reason. About how pretty your hair is or how cute your smile looks. You can't even comprehend looking anything but shit. She pouts and fiddles with her phone a bit. Then she asks you to watch a video. Suddenly you're back at work. When did the break end? No matter.

She tells you how pretty your eyes were. You smile because good girls accept compliments and tell her how gorgeous her lips are because good girls are honest. The rest of the day the two of you compliment each other.

It's beenmonth since then and both of you just keep complimenting each other. Sure, your compliments are getting kind of weird. You don't know when you started calling her Mistress as a joke, but it's hard to stop now. But she tells you that it's normal for good girls to call their Mistress Mistress so you keep doing it anyway. Besides, her compliments are getting weirder too. Mistress has made it a habit to pin you to a wall before telling you them. Then she just tells you how submissive and docile you are. She kisses you a lot now. Good girls deserve to be kissed by their Mistress ofc, so you don't complain.

Work itself is harder now. You just can't keep up like you used to. You're just so horny and Mistress doesn't help. You know that good girls are horny messes, but it's so aggravating. The tight clothes that show off so much don't help, but good girls are required to wear them so what can you do? Mistress has to pick up a lot of your slack, but she doesn't seem to mind. And besides good girls let Mistress do the work for them.

Breaks are great. Mistress shows you another video and you feel so good and good girls deserve to feel good. You feel so good that you don't remember what happens during them. You've started finding bruises and bite marks on your skin after them, though you don't know why. You don't care because good girls need to be marked. For the rest of the shift, she keeps touching you and teasing. By the end you can barely stand.

At the clock terminal, Mistress pins you to the wall and makes out with you before leaving. You're frozen by lust for several minutes before stumbling to your car.

Three months in and things are now really weird. You can't tell why anymore. Your head feels like cotton most of the time. You ask Mistress why everything feels so weird, because good girls always ask Mistress for help. She gives you some pets and kisses you, reminding you that dumb puppies don't think. Your boss threatens to fire you because of poor performance, but it's not your fault you're a dumb puppy. Everyone knows that dumb puppies don't work. Dumb puppies are to be submissive and docile. Mistress does most of the work, she's so good at it that she's up for promotion.

Breaks are so fun. Mistress shows you another video. When you wake up, you feel sooooooo good. Like all the energy built up during the morning was just released. Mistress cleans you up and then she starts working again while you heel. Then when you clock out, Mistress attaches a leash to your collar and gives you a walkies home. The walkies home is the best part.

Six months in and life is perfect. You don't work anymore and that's okay. Dumb puppies don't work anyway. You and Mistress live together at her place. You sleep in your cage and if you're a really good puppy, Mistress lets you sleep at the foot of her bed. The best time is when Mistress works. She works at home now. Your job is to be adorable by sleeping in a dog bed under her desk. Well, that and pleasure her, because a dumb puppy's only role is to be her Mistress's fucktoy.

During lunch Mistress fills your bowl with kibble and it tastes amazing. She doesn't show you videos anymore. She says you're perfect now. You don't understand what she means but it doesn't matter. Dumb puppies don't think after all.

After Mistress finishes working, she takes you on walkies and plays with you. It's so fun and nice and amazing. And if you're a really good girl, the best puppy in the whole world, she'll let you sleep in the bed with her. Your life is amazing.

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notjustjavierpena · 8 months ago

Text

Tink

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This is so many days late but I promise that it is worth it. I hope you enjoy a broken heart.

Summary: You leave a Halloween party to go see Joel but it turns into a horror show when conversation between you takes a poor turn.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, secret relationship, dad’s best friend, possessiveness, daddy kink, lots of pet names, alcohol consumption, dirty and dark Tinkerbell roleplay, dirty talk, ass smacks!!!, clit stim, fingering, squirting, doggy style, overstim, tears, rough sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, angst, fighting, no happy ending.

Word count: 9.9k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60461590

Tink

You’re readjusting the straps on your pale gold stilettos as Joel slips into your childhood bedroom. He has gone unnoticed by the rest of the people in the house like he always does, having mastered the art of sneaking around since the beginning of your little fling. This is even as he has gotten far bolder over the summer, especially over the last month when you told him you loved him. It fills him with a carefreeness that he hasn’t felt in years, a feeling unlocked from his teenage days that he was so sure his body had forgotten by now. However, it doesn’t mean that he is careful not to disturb the noise downstairs as he clicks the door shut.

You’re standing in front of the full-body mirror just opposite the door, bent over as you undo your shoe strap to tighten it slightly. Joel feels like a damn dog as he lets his eyes skim up your beautiful legs, letting his gaze wander over the body he has come to know so well before it eventually settles on your strutting ass.

You are wearing a Tinkerbell costume, its green satin fabric hugging your curves like it has been specially tailored to your body. You have chosen a version of the fae that he doesn’t quite remember from the movie he used to watch with Sarah; the neckline dips way low, the straps are tucked away into the top to expose your chest and shoulders, and the hemline of the skirt barely reaches your mid-thigh which he is sure that a twirl will reveal your underwear to the world, something that makes his jaw tighten when you should be for his eyes only. And then there are the wings; pale, translucent and with tiny flecks of gold in them. You may be demanding attention from people other than him but despite being sexy and driving him wild, you mostly look cute. It makes him smile affectionately as he takes a moment to gather himself instead of being completely overtaken by the need to possess.

You are lost in your own world, clearly not expecting anyone to come in, so it takes you by surprise when he pads across the room to lay his hands on your hips without announcing his presence. He swallows hard as he sees the two of you in the mirror, imitating something far more explicit than what he is actually doing.

His touch startles you, eliciting a small gasp from you as you feel him caress on top of the fabric of your dress. He curls his fingers into it, fighting the urge to lift it and see what kind of panties you’re wearing underneath.

“You frightened me,” you say but there’s no accusation in your tone. Instead, he can hear that you’re happy to see him and his hands stay on your body, only going up to your waist, as you straighten, “Where does Dad think you are this time?”

“Restroom,” he answers simply and lets his palms move to lay on your tummy. He leans his head over your shoulder, looking at you in the mirror with a soft smile. When he speaks, it is with paternity lacing his voice, “Ya goin’ out like that?”

“He might think you have bladder issues soon, old man. You can’t just barge in each time you want some sugar,” you tease him, eyes sparkling in competition with the glitter on your blush-covered cheeks. Joel leans in to kiss your neck. He nibbles along your pulse point, inhaling deeply to breathe you in as he reaches where you’ve applied your sweet perfume.

“You smell so good, little fae,” he says instead of acknowledging your jab at his age, the tip of his nose skimming along the delicate column of your throat. Shamelessly, he grabs the hem of your dress and lifts it just enough to start something between the two of you that he cannot finish, “What’ve you got under here?”

“Joel,” you say with fake outrage and tut disapprovingly. The both of you know that he’ll fuck you at some point tonight. Still, you make a statement out of grabbing his much bigger hands and removing them from your dress. You stretch his arms out in front of you both to keep him out of reach but he is so much stronger than you, manhandling you easily until he catches you in an embrace from behind. Being caged against his broad chest makes you giggle so goddamn heavenly, his body responding with interest in getting you on your back.

“You didn’t answer my question, Princess,” he whispers into your ear, letting his breath tickle your skin until you shiver.

“About?” You light up the room when you smile innocently at him in the mirror and God, if it doesn’t make his heart nearly leap out of his chest. Your eyes are wide, your grin mischievous.

“If you’re goin’ out like that,” he tightens his arms around you, focusing on the softness of your palms in his rough ones. He isn’t letting you go before you give him an answer.

“I am,” you lean back into his chest, turning your head away from the mirror to glance up at him through your lashes. You are in the mood to dare tease even further, “Don’t you like it?”

“You know I do. Too much actually,” he murmurs back at you as he takes in your costume once more in the mirror. He notices that you bite your lip as he ogles you, tilting back and forth on your feet while you let him eat you with his eyes. When he finds that you aren’t looking at yourself but rather still batting your eyes up at him, he reaches up to cup your jaw. He turns your face to the mirror, “I’d like it much more behind these walls.”

“I’m not staying here,” you say. Joel lets out an annoyed sigh and shakes his head as if to argue but his head isn’t in it. He feels somewhat secure when your voice sounds a little out of breath, “Besides, you know I’ll always come back home to you. No one makes me feel like you do.”

“You better, sweetheart,” he can almost imagine you shrinking down and flying around in his close proximity just to tease him. He finally moves you around in his arms until you are face-to-face with him and then, still holding you by your chin, he leans in to capture your mouth in a kiss that’s slower and deeper than usual. He brushes your soft tongue with his own, kissing you like he is claiming you and hopefully reminding you of what awaits back home.

When he pulls back, you’ve gone dumb. There’s a vacancy in your eyes, a dazed look that tells you just how ready you are to melt into him and forget about everything else. Joel would love to keep you home but he’ll settle for the satisfaction he feels from looking at you blink rapidly, “Still with us, little fae?”

“Barely,” you admit with an embarrassed smile.

“Go have fun,” he encourages with a little smirk and, albeit reluctantly, lets you go but not before giving your ass a playful smack and causing you to yelp quietly, “Before I change my mind.”

“Bye, Daddy,” you whisper to taunt him as you leave out the door, and Joel has to stay behind for several minutes to get his aching cock to flag down. It doesn’t take long since he is an expert now, has learned to join the party downstairs without any trace of what he has been doing to his best friend’s daughter.

—

The party has been going on for a few hours now, with costumes ranging from elaborate to barely there. The crowd of people crammed into the tiny house is buzzing with exciting fun, resulting in happy bursts of laughter bouncing off the walls along with the music, both of which get louder as drinks are consumed. Yet no matter how many times your friends cause you to throw your head back to laugh along and no matter the three drinks you already have in your system, your mind plays tricks on you and continuously goes back to Joel. The way he had kissed you goodbye earlier still feels imprinted on your lips, haunting you like a ghost and causing your skin to buzz, your thighs to press together. Nothing seems to get you out of this trance, not even the lingering eyes caused by the dangerous hemline of your Tinkerbell costume. The attention feels good, sure, but it is nothing compared to the way Joel makes you feel when he looks at you.

You take a sip from your fourth drink. You’re supposed to be out having fun, dancing and drinking, but you can think of nothing else than leaving this place and going to his, only so you can slip back into that familiar embrace where you belong, only so you can feel his calloused hands grab your hips as he drags you down onto his—

“Who is he?” You look up to find your best friend staring at you with a knowing smirk. Hannah awaits an answer, quite a few more drinks in than you. She is dressed as a Poison Ivy, complete with green painted skin (which has been smudged off on every surface she’s touched) and her red hair decorated with plastic leaves she has cut off from a fake plant.

“What are you talking about?” You ask innocently but you betray yourself by not being able to maintain eye contact with her. Your cheeks are warm but if she asks, you’ll say it is due to the alcohol.

“You’re staring off again,” she notes and her eyes grow more devious. She points the straw from her drink at you and tiny splashes of homemade daiquiri fly in your direction, “I didn’t fly home and go to this party with you to not hear about who you are having sex with.”

“Who says I am having sex?” You ask with comical indifference which accidentally reveals you in your lie. You rub off a spot of red liquid from your arm, “I’m not.”

“Please,” she dismisses your statement by waving a hand and moving closer to you on the couch. She talks loudly over the music, “You’re either getting continuously laid by some great secret boyfriend or I need to take notice of your skincare routine since you’re practically glowing.”

“Hey, keep it down. I don’t need anyone but you to know,” you shush her with a finger pressed to your lips. There’s no way you’re telling her that your secret boyfriend is Joel Miller… but right now, with alcohol in your bloodstream, it is tempting to let someone else in on the secret that’s been eating at you since June. Perhaps even to brag a little bit.

“You’re acting like seeing a guy is some forbidden romance,” Hannah sighs dramatically but when you smile and shrug, she narrows her eyes just a second before they go wide, “Wait, it is?”

“It’s a secret… because he’s a lot older,” you lean in to make the conversation more private, taking Hannah’s drink out of her hand in case the excitement that looms underneath her surface will make her spill the red liquid onto you.

Her eyes are nearly bulging out of her skull, “Like how much older are we talking? Silver fox?”

“Old enough to remember dial-up internet and hate my music?” You test the waters and watch her process your words, not sure if her reaction is going to be one of shock or enthusiasm. However, with the amount of questionable things Hannah has gotten herself into over the years, you are more certain that it’ll be the latter. One can never know though. After all, right now you are keeping out the earth-shaking detail that the guy you give your nights to is your father’s very best friend.

A satisfied smile spreads on her face, slowly because she’s intoxicated, “So you’re telling me that you - the girl with a history of pissant boyfriends - have a mature, well-seasoned man in your grasp?”

You giggle, happiness bubbling up at Hannah’s silly wording but your heartbeat thrums underneath your ribs because how Joel makes you feel is nowhere near previous flirtations; it’s intense, it’s all-consuming, and has you tossing and turning whenever. You can feel your cheeks ache from smiling. With a groan, you lean forward to bump your forehead against her shoulder.

You earn an embrace in return, squeezed by the arm around your shoulder, “Or maybe he has you in his grasp?”

“I think it’s serious, Hannah, I love him,” you whisper in the crook of her neck just loud enough for her to hear you over the noise around you. There’s a gentle vulnerability in being nearly four drinks in and confessing your love - even if it’s words tumbling out of your mouth - for a boy to your person, the one who came through and gave you her approval without hesitation despite the scandal.

Hannah pulls back a little, excitement on her face instead of shock. She has always had a tendency to live vicariously through you whenever something exciting happens, and it comes across when she urges you away, “Then what are you doing sitting here with me?”

“Uhh, spending time with my best friend?” You straighten and raise a brow, stifling a grin.

She rolls her eyes playfully, “We’ve known each other since middle school. I’m sure I can survive a night without you if it means you getting with your mystery man. He’s apparently the love of your life judging by the amount of smiling you’ve done since we started talking about him. Who is it anyway?”

From her tone, you can hear she tries to sound nonchalant about the question at the end. However, the relief of talking to her about your affair with someone off-limits makes you a little too bold, too nonchalant yourself.

“I am seriously putting my life on the line here, so you have to promise not to tell anyone,” you stress, leaning in as far as you can while still looking at her. Your heart races in your chest, your eyes locked onto her widened ones.

“Of course, of course! Cross my heart and all that,�� Hannah sits up a little, almost imitating the way a cat’s ears perk up, “Spill!”

“Joel Miller,” you confess to your sins but much to your surprise, you don’t burst into flames and there is no sound of a record scratch before everyone looks at you in horror. In fact, it feels surprisingly easy and light to tell her.

Hannah processes the name for a moment before her eyes widen just the tiniest bit more, “Wait what?! Joel Miller as in your dad’s buddy?!”

“Keep it down,” you hiss and shush, “I think someone upstairs didn’t hear you.”

“Sorry,” she is flustered, lowering her voice theatrically, “But this is huge. I mean… Does your dad know?”

You furrow your brow, “Of course, he doesn’t. He’d murder Joel if he found out. Lifetime imprisonment because of manslaughter style.”

Hannah nods in understanding. However, she still seems deep in thought, “But how does that even happen? You’re like… seriously off-limits, aren’t you? That’s bro-code even for boomers.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur as you recall, your voice taking on a dreamy note, “Just kinda happened. I was having a really difficult time at college and he just— he told me all the right things, then one thing led to another… He makes me feel things that I didn’t even know I needed. I know it’s wrong but—“

“Wrong? You’re a grown woman,” Hannah tuts, “Go see him. What’s the worst thing that could happen? That you probably end up having mind-blowing sex with an experienced man?”

“You’re really sure it’s okay?” You ask but you are already getting out of your seat next to her. You start absentmindedly fixing your clothes to make sure you look like something out of Joel’s deepest fantasy, straightening out a squashed fairy wing and curling your hair around a finger to make it bounce into place.

“Jesus, look at you,” she laughs at the way you fuss, “It would be classified as torture if I didn’t let you go, so go! See your silver fox, but just text me when you’re there.”

“I will, thank you, Hannah,” you beam.

You leave her with giddiness and make excuses to your other friends about a ‘family thing’ when they appear bummed out that you are heading home. The air outside in Texas is still hot in October but you can’t feel warm without Joel’s arms around you.

You're so sure that your heart says his name as it beats in your chest when you leave for him.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

—

You stand by his front door not half an hour later, having checked that your parents’ car is not parked in his driveway. The house is quiet except for the soft glow of the floor lamp in his living room and the TV’s light flickering through the curtains. You take it as evidence that he is still awake.

Just before you knock, you shoot Hannah a text, telling her that you’re here with five exclamation points and she types a barely coherent message back at you. She also wishes you good luck which you know you won’t need because the man opening his front door is so whipped for you.

Joel says your name in surprise, quickly checking to see if anyone is watching as you twirl on his doorstep in your little green dress. The booze in your blood is making you more courageous than normal even if you aren’t anywhere near plastered. You step inside his house without permission but he doesn’t seem bothered as you saunter into his living room, your heels clicking as you step over the doorstep. He has turned off the TV, almost as if he knew that it was you behind his front door and therefore there would be no more time for lounging.

“How much has Tink had to drink tonight?” He asks when closing the door. You don’t give him much time to do anything else as you enter his personal space again, caging him hungrily against the door to kiss him with all the heat in your body.

“Not nearly enough for you to stop touching her, Peter,” you let him know as you take a quick breath, too excited for what he can give you if he allows himself remember to inhale through your nose. You rush back into making out with him but he holds you just out of reach, fingers digging into your shoulders.

“Peter? I don’t think so, Tink,” he grumbles, large hands sliding down the length of your arms until he can rest them on your hips. His touch makes your cunt clench, desire stirring even further inside of you as you make a mess in your panties.

“But…” You press your thighs together without any shame.

Joel holds your waist firmly but then goes further down to cup the tops of your thighs underneath the satin skirt. His hands squeeze obscenely, denting your jiggling skin while his eyes have gone dark to indicate his lust. His fingers are calloused and warm as they graze upon where your panties hug your ass, “Peter ain’t never had the guts to get his hands on Tinkerbell like this. Lemme show ya what a man does to his own, personal little fae.”

He then drags your body against himself to let you feel every inch of him, the outline of his already hardening cock underneath his usual jeans. There’s no way he fucked you silly just a few days ago because your pussy reacts like it’s been craving him for days.

“This is what good fairies get stuffed with. If they can handle the stretch,” he chuckles darkly. You moan longingly, brows furrowing to make you look slightly dumb as you suddenly become aware of how empty you feel, how much you need him to fill you out and stretch you to the brim. You had marched over here to be alluring to the point of control over him but he touches you and your mind blanks. He won’t fuck you here, told you last time that he prefers his bed so he can take his time.

“Bedroom. Now, please,” you whine pathetically and reluctantly take a step back. He nods, allowing you to lead him upstairs. You take his hand before it falls to his side from your hip, dragging him through the house and earning a smack to your ass with the hand you aren’t holding. You yelp a little, gush a little more.

By the time you reach his bed, your head is spinning with how horny you are and your belly is swirling with heat. You drop down onto it, bouncing slightly on the mattress and he stands between your legs with delicious authority.

“Lay back and let Daddy take care of his baby,” he commands but his voice is somehow both soft, harsh, and dirty. He watches you lower yourself onto your back, the glittering wings of your costume spread out beneath you and fluttering slightly as you wiggle your hips when tugging up your dress.

Joel smiles with pride. He lays a warm hand on your knee, slowly gliding it up until his palm rests against your core, and touches you carefully through the fabric.

“You gotta tell me somethin’,” he whispers with his eyes focused on yours, not needing to see what he is doing because he knows your body so well. He feels how damp your underwear has become, the sensation pulling a low moan from the back of his throat. You nod, words embarrassingly failing you when you are so overcome by your body’s need to have him where you need him the most. However, he is expertly avoiding your clit for now, clearly wanting to get his sentence out before your attention is lost.

“A little birdie told me that when a man keeps his fae excited and happy, she produces a little extra magic down there, sparklin’ so prettily for him,” he tightens his grip between your legs when your hips start moving on their own accord. He holds you down, rubbing you closer to properly now but it’s still not enough to build anything to a crescendo. However, there’s an urgency to the way he touches you, a mix of frustration and relief now that you’re back here with him,

“Only for those who know how to bring it out of her,” you finally manage a coherent sentence, a teasing one even, but your breath stutters through it. Your clit pulses in time with your heartbeat by now and as if he has heard your prayers, his thumb finally presses down on the hard little nub before going in mind-altering circles.

“Then I just gotta make sure I show ya that I am the only one who can make enough magic spill from you to light up this whole damn house,” he growls, using his fingers expertly until you are on the brink of coming, “And every bit of that magic, honey? It’s mine. I ain’t stoppin’ until you’re glowing, little fae.”

You come so hard that your mind blocks out all other senses for a split second, your pussy going off into spasms that have you arching your back like you might actually float off the bed. You whimper at the oversensitivity that he teases out of you with featherlight touches.

He pushes your pelvis down when it lifts itself up and snaps without anger in his voice. Instead, his voice is laced with lust, an octave deeper and threatening, “No moving away or I’ll pluck your pretty little wings off.”

The threat makes you moan, eyes widening as you stare at his face like a trapped animal. You can see how much Joel’s eyes darken at your reaction, unable to understand how he hasn’t ripped your panties yet to screw your brains out.

“Wouldn’t want that, would ya? Unable to fly away?” He smirks deviously and draws back to undo your golden stilettos, his hand that isn’t working the lock holding your calf firmly. He presses kisses to your ankle too and is so delicate with your shoes even as he drops them onto the floor.

“No,” you whimper and shake your head. You can’t bear telling him the truth which is that you want nothing more than being a wingless little fae, completely at his mercy. You imagine being tied to the bed with nothing to keep him from using you how he pleases and your chest feels alight.

Teasingly, you slide your foot up along his arm until you can rest it comfortably on his shoulder. He allows it and turns his head to kiss just below your ankle in response.

“Then be a good girl and stay right where Daddy put you,” he rasps, letting his strong hands glide up the length of your legs. He squeezes your thighs gently as he passes over them, a part of your body that he would categorize as his favorite if you asked him to choose. When he inches his fingertips up under your skirt, the anticipation in the air nearly makes your body want to crawl away because what you will get from him will be too much. You shiver when he starts tugging your panties down, the white lace impossibly damp right at where your pussy has sat.

When he drags them all the way off, lifting the leg on his shoulder briefly, his eyes settle right between your thighs. You clench involuntarily at being watched, slick dripping onto his bed sheets as you pulse for his gaze. He lets out a low groan, his hands gripping your hips as he stares without shame, taking in every inch of you as you are laid bare for him. The sight of the heat he’ll slide into has his jaw tightening, his breathing growing irregular. When he is satisfied with his inspection, his eyes lift and he gives you a look that could melt you right into the bed.

“Look at this little pussy. It’s glistenin’ f’me, the magic’s pouring from it,” he says while he slides his fingers through your folds with slow and tantalizing strokes, the leftovers of your last orgasm still lingering as he taps your clit and causes you to squeak.

“Yeah? Does it look pretty for you?” You ask deliriously and catch your bottom lip between your teeth to whine, lifting your hips up despite the rules and basically presenting your cunt like a gift.

“So goddamn pretty, little fae. Do you want me to touch it properly this time? Inside to make those wings flutter?“ Joel’s threat is apparently less serious now that he’s got a glimpse between your legs. He turns his wrist so he can hook his fingers upward, rubbing your cunt teasingly around where you want him to sink into. He enters you to the first knuckle, applying the slightest pressure inside of you, only to draw back and make you lose your mind.

“You’re teasing me,” you state the obvious, breathless and squirming underneath his ministrations. You push your hips to meet his hand, “Please, Daddy, I need it so badly. Don’t you wanna slip inside and feel how tight I am?”

“Then spread those legs for me,” he orders you in a gruff voice, clearly affected by your words. He reaches with his free hand to lift your leg off his shoulder and plants your foot firmly on the bed. You mirror it with your other leg until you can let both of them fall out to the sides.

“You want me to get a towel, baby? We haven’t done that in a while,” he smirks at you knowingly, a certain glint in his eye as he asks. You know exactly what he is referring to and he chuckles when you answer by nodding eagerly with wide eyes, looking like a kid in a candy store being offered their favorite sweet.

“That’s my girl, so eager to feel good,” he praises with a warm smile and rises from his position. He peels off his t-shirt, throwing it in your face - a fairly new habit of his - so you can drown in his smell before exiting the room to head for the bathroom, stepping out of his jeans on the way there. You curl your fingers into the fabric, bringing it to your nose to inhale deeply. Joel’s shirt smells of cotton and faded aftershave, mixed with something unmistakably him; a hint of sweat from being in the Texas sun, his wood-scented deodorant that still lingers. It’s enough to make you even wetter.

He comes back a moment later, towel in hand. He watches you clutching his shirt, having smeared the golden glitter on your face onto it, your pretty eyes nearly rolling back and your hips wiggling to no avail.

“Ain’t you worked up, sweetheart? I’ve barely gotten started with you. Are all faes so greedy between their legs?” He taunts as he slides the towel beneath your hips, flattening it out neatly while you hold your breath in his proximity. He yanks the shirt out of your grip and stares down at you. Your costume is so messy by now, the green dress sitting around your hips to obscenely make you look like a thing used for shoving one’s dick in, and the translucent wings are slightly crumpled by your impatient wiggling around, your cunt’s search for pleasure.

“Please, Daddy, need you to make me come,” you whimper and earn a look of pity. Joel moves to kneel on the floor by the bed, leaning over the edge of the bed until his upper body is between your thighs. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his ring- and middle finger into you, rewarding your desperation by curling his digits upward just in the right way.

“Oh,” you let out a slow, breathy moan when he finds the right spot inside you in just a few seconds, the one that has a direct line to your clit. Joel smiles at his immediate success, watching you with the pride of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing in his quest to undo you.

“Right there, huh? God, you’re so sensitive, baby,” he murmurs lowly, his tone affectionate and aroused. He pushes his fingers deeper into you until his index finger and pinky brush your ass and then makes a come-hither motion inside of you. You can feel a lump form in your throat, the flesh of your ass and thighs jiggling from the effort he puts into fucking you with his thick digits.

“You’re so good at that, mmm… Daddy,” you only just manage to say before you choke on a whine as he creates electricity within you, your voice breaking and trembling with desperation. You are well aware of how pathetic you sound, how needy, but you don’t care because you can feel the tension building with each stroke inside of you. With his thumb, he reaches out and swirls it around your clit, and you know he can feel how hard it has gotten in its aroused state; a little bump underneath the tip of his finger. It is so sensitive now too, making you wetter with each little push against it.

You throw your head back and draw in a desperate breath, wanting so badly to swear at the sensation of him fucking you open like he has been thinking about it all day. Yet it doesn’t feel worth it to break the rules of using foul language, resulting in having him halt his doings. Instead, you trap your bottom lip between your teeth and reach for your chest to relieve some of the tension in your body.

You cup your breasts through your dress, squeezing them to add another dimension to the way Joel is touching you. He swears below you at the way you clench around his fingers when you catch your nipples between two fingers, tugging to intensify the sensation between your thighs.

“You are so sexy like that, Tink,” Joel murmurs softly in praise. He leans down to kiss your belly, kiss your inner thigh, and all the way up to your knee too. He keeps the relentless rhythm of his fingers but then also rests his free hand on your stomach just below your belly button, knowing that this is how he made you squirt the first time. He pushes down on your belly to add that final touch, and it is almost too much, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

Your legs start to tremble in Joel’s peripheral vision, in need of being held down by Joel’s strong arm so he doesn’t lose his grip on the intense orgasm he has built up inside of you. Your eyes start to roll back and a high-pitched whimper escapes you as he has you teetering on the edge.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You are so goddamn close, ain’t you? Glowin’ f’me so prettily. Come on, come for Daddy, baby. He put in so much work,” he talks you over the edge in the next moment, holding your cunt in an iron grip as you suddenly clamp down on his digits and start shuddering violently. He keeps his fingers inside of you, pressing them firmly against your g-spot while simultaneously rubbing your clit in taught little circles. It makes you gush all over his hand, soaking the towel beneath you as wave after wave comes crashing.

You have been vocal throughout the whole thing, sure, but it is nothing compared to your cries right now as relieving pleasure wracks through your lower body and makes you sob.

“God, you make Daddy so hard,” you hear Joel say but there’s a fog wrapped around your mind like a woolen blanket. When you feel yourself gushing again, it’s so intense that tears are spilling down your cheeks and the fabric of your dress clings to your sweat-slicked body. You feel slightly claustrophobic in the moment but you have no control of your body, so you let Joel’s soothing words guide you through an orgasm that’ll be worth bragging about to Hannah.

When it finally ebbs out, Joel eases his fingers out and makes you mewl. He wipes his hand on the towel and then soothingly strokes along your thighs as you try to relish in your post-orgasmic bliss.

However, you start tugging on your dress instead, desperately trying to escape its confines while you pant in the aftermath. You are still so fucked out that it doesn’t come off during your attempt, your hands shaking and a whine making Joel gently chuckle.

“Stop, stop, lemme help you,” he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, taking your wrists in his hands to stop your desperate effort. You let out a soft plea for him, pouting for show as you follow orders and he guides you to sit, slow as he moves you in case your head is still woozy. He reaches behind you and up under the fairy wings to undo the zipper of the green dress, pausing for a moment before deciding to tug the fabric downward instead of up over your head. The garment slips down until it sits around your waist. He pushes you down onto your back again so he can ease it past your hips and off your legs.

He stands there for a moment more before tugging his underwear down his legs, quickly kicking them to the side, and then he just stares. You feel cherished by him when he touches you but it’s different when he just looks; you feel sexy underneath his gaze. You know you’re a sight to behold when he swallows thickly, a disheveled little naked fae with her wings bent from how well she’s been fucked.

Finally, he crawls on top of you. He presses close to you, pulling your leg over his waist as he catches your mouth in a long, drawn-out kiss that perfectly displays the affection and hunger within him. You kiss him back, sighing softly into his mouth and reaching up to run your hands over his broad shoulders, eventually settling them on the back of his head. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug him back to your mouth each time he needs a breath, whispering to him during the mere seconds you are without each other.

“Need you, baby,” you pant softly, lips sensitive from kissing so feverishly until your body feels ready for more without the risk of combusting on the sheets. Joel’s cock is hard against your thigh, and he can’t stop murmuring half sentences as he crashes his crotch into your hip with a low moan while telling you just how good it will feel to be inside you.

“Yeah? This little pussy needs to get fucked?” He cups your face and dives into your mouth anew.

“Yeah,” you moan breathily with a nod, brushing your tongues together in the new filthy kiss, “Need you to make me your little fucktoy, Daddy. That’s all I’m good for.”

“That’s right, Tink,” he growls, his eyes having darkened at your obscene words. With a hint of reluctance, he pulls away from you so he can flip you onto your stomach. With a firm grip on your hips, he helps you up onto your hands and knees.

It’s a struggle to hold yourself up but you stiffen, quickly finding your bearings, as Joel raises his hand a little in the air before giving you a firm smack on your ass. The sting makes you gasp, your fingers clutching the sheets below you. He soothes the pain, speaking as someone put together even if his ragged breathing gives him away, “Who do ya belong to, little fae?”

“Y-you,” you stammer, your voice wavering but still holding a tinge of eagerness. He smacks you again, this time harder so the sound bounces off the walls.

“And who am I?” He demands, not satisfied with your simple answer.

“Daddy,” you plead with a feeble cry, clenching around nothing and feeling a bead of slick drip from your clit.

“That’s right,” he gruffs. Even though it is unnecessary with how soaked you are from your arousal and Joel’s impressive generosity tonight, he still spits into his hand and coats his thick length in it. He aligns with your dripping slit and breaches you with the tip of his cock.

A whimper tumbles from your mouth and he shushes you gently. He is so big inside of you that everything hurts just enough to make you whine feebly but at the same time, he feels just right inside you as he slips in right to the hilt. There’s a looming yet exciting danger of him being in complete control in this position but he is so careful with you as he starts fucking you. Well, as careful as a man can be when he gets to be balls-deep in Tinkerbell.

You groan at the feeling of him having his way with you. He has reached the point where he has little patience left from putting his own needs aside for too long, longing to use you to spill into. You are overstimulated by the two highs he has already pulled from you. It intensifies the sensation of him effortlessly slipping in and out of your slick cunt, so much so that you don’t last long in this position and end up with your face in the mattress.

“Ah–... ah,” you squeak each time he bottoms out, mercilessly letting you feel the depth of each stroke and keeping you panting under his weight, almost dizzy with how hard he is inside your soft heat.

“You like that?” He presses you down further into the mattress by planting his hand firmly on the back of your neck as a clear, dominant gesture that holds you in place for him to drive into you even harder.

"Yes, yes, thank you, Daddy," you manage to gasp out, your words muffled by the bedding as your body shudders under the force of his thrusts. Each of your words stutters along with your breathing, each movement of his harsh rhythm makes his hips crash into your ass.

Joel's grip on the back of your neck tightens just a little, his breaths coming out in shallow pants while a growl leaves him, “Just fuckin’ take it, baby. You can do it.”

“You feel so fu—“ you catch yourself in your delirious state of mind, yet again not about to be punished for breaking the rule of swearing. That’s only allowed by the real grownups, so you swallow around a little gasp and pretend like it almost didn't happen, “You feel so good, Daddy.”

Suddenly, he rakes his hand down your spine, through the sweat that is beading there and grabs your hips. He drags you onto your hands and knees, your tits bouncing as he knocks all wind out of you when he begins thrusting again.

You make a noise in the very back of your throat, a sudden surge of pleasure through your body at the new angle making you realize how close you are again. You are sweating, you are crying with actual tears spilling down your cheeks, your heart nearly beating out of your chest, and God, you just need a little help getting there.

“Harder,” you plead pathetically, craving his cock right against the spot inside of you that he might as well label as his own, “Please, I can take it, Daddy.”

It is the truth; you’re practically molded into a sheath for his cock only from how many times he has fucked you since the beginning of the summer. However, at the same time, it feels like you can barely take anymore he has to give, so stuffed that you think you’re about to lose control.

“Shh,” he soothes your sobs, voice softening in beautiful contrast to his relentless pace, “Daddy’s got ya. Daddy’s happy to give you - shit, baby - to give you whatcha need.”

“Ah!” You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to concentrate on the pleasure right around the corner. It makes you able to hear how the bed is squeaking, how the headboard is continuously slamming against the wall.

“Fuck, I can feel you squeezin’ me. You gonna come on it?” You hear him behind you and in response, you nod frantically when no intelligible words come out. He splays a hand on your back and gives you his all to get you there, “God, I love to see you act like a cockdrunk little fae.”

“Mhm!” Your cries turn to high-pitched keens as your orgasm catches up with you and hits you like a bolt of lightning. You are done for, trembling through the strong pulses between your legs as you come hard enough to wipe your mind. Behind you, Joel groans as your walls try to trap his cock in a grip that has him faltering just for a moment. However, he quickly regains his momentum so he can fuck you through each overwhelming wave.

“Well done, baby. Good girl comin’ on my cock,” he praises through gritted teeth and you can imagine the slightly angry face he has on as he feels his own climax speed towards him, “Daddy’s gonna fill you up right now.”

“Really?” You ask dreamily with your eyes closed in the middle of your afterglow, a dazed smile on your face. Bliss is not the right word, too much mind-numbing and brain-quietening exhaustion following it. Behind you, Joel is still pounding into your squelching cunt but you can do nothing more than giggle happily in between sweet moans whenever he hits something just right.

The giggles cause you to tighten around his girth, squeezing him just enough for him to swear loudly at the exquisite feeling your body wrapped around him. He lets go because he can’t hold back anymore, coming inside of your pussy with controlled, hard thrusts that wipe the little smile off your face because air gets knocked out of you.

“Yes, please gimme your come, Daddy, please give it to me,” you urge him and furrow your brows, practically drooling down onto the sheets as he abuses your pussy in his blissful state. He is so deep inside of you as he spurts, coating your velvety walls in his thick and generous load. It feels so fucking good. Nothing like anything a good little fairy would ever do. You even start thanking him, panting as you say the words over and over again.

“Christ, baby,” he moans behind you, “So goddamn dirty for Daddy.”

You whimper when he leaves you empty a moment later, causing you to collapse onto your front with your hands resting underneath your cheek and your fingers curling into the sheets. You want to bite into the bed, your head swimming with how good and fucked out you feel.

Joel moves to lie down next to you, his body halfway on its side so he can kiss your sweat-glistening shoulder. He moves upwards when you shiver at the first touch of his lips, dragging his mouth up to your warm cheek. He plants a kiss right by the corner of your mouth, and you absentmindedly reach out to stroke along his jaw.

“That was so good,” you say with a tiny moan.

“You are so perfect,” he praises lovingly. He moves to lie down on top of your limp body, crushing you so heavenly with his weight as his chest sticks to your back. The wings of your costume crumble, flattening from being squashed. His arms envelop you and a large hand brushes a bit of loose hair away from your neck. He dips down to kiss just below the base of your skull and you find yourself automatically stretching your neck for even more. He showers you in kisses, lips trailing up and down your throat until you feel a burning need to breathe him in further, to be even closer.

You whine like a child, wiggling underneath the weight of him until he shifts to lie beside you again. He drags you close to his warm chest, planting a broad palm on your back and you respond by scooting forward to climb even further into his arms. Frustration bubbles up in your chest because it doesn’t feel like he is close enough, not even when you whimper and bury your face in the crook of his warm neck. He chuckles affectionately above you, cradling you like you are the most precious thing he owns, and rests his lips on your disheveled hair.

“Joel…” You whisper and try to tug at him even more, your arms going under his so you can be flush against him and mold together with his much stronger embrace. You grab at his shoulders, had no idea that there could be such a loud and powerful yearning in your chest for someone you already have.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, clearly knowing the answer. You feel his hand move gently along your naked back, trying to soothe you as you continuously try to shift yourself even closer in his arms though you’re already as close as you can get.

“It’s not close enough,” you complain feebly and shift once more, a bit of embarrassment flowing through you at how needy you come off. It’s rare that you feel like this but the conversation you had with Hannah earlier has your head in a lovesick spin. The need for Joel is unmatched by anything you have ever felt because this state of mind isn’t fuelled by desire anymore - you have already gotten that out of your system - but rather an all-consuming need for love.

Joel shushes you gently when you whine once more and squeezes you tightly to relieve your discontent, coaxing your impatient and restless body to calm down. He talks gently and says your name, his voice reverberating through his chest, “Look at me.”

You tilt your head back to meet his gaze, and he smiles one of the smiles that he only reserves for you. He whispers, “I love you.”

And then he reaches up slowly to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. He dips down to kiss you softly on the lips, grounding you further and making your mind go quiet. It’s not rushed, not as passionate as the kisses you’ve shared just moments before but it’s sweeter than honey.

As you let your guard down fully with a mind completely blank, a sentence slips from your mouth without a second thought. It’s not something you planned to say but you have no control over your actions when he kisses you like that.

“Guess what?” You giggle, lost in his eyes.

“What, babydoll?” He smiles down at you.

“I told Hannah about us,” you confess, another wave of giddiness washing over you at the excitement.

However, it quickly passes over you as Joel’s face shifts to an expression of something concerned, tingeing on angry but mostly just unpleasant. Immediately, his jaw tightens, “You did what?”

Your face drops along with your stomach. You try to find the words to calm him but when you open your mouth there are no words that fit. His stare is so intense, laced with frustration and paranoia that makes your throat start tingling with tears.

“Joel—“ you croak when he pulls back a little, the distance between you feeling unnaturally cold.

“Do you have any idea what could possibly happen if she lets this slip?” He doesn’t look at you, rolling onto his back to rest the back of his thumbs against his forehead, “You should have talked to me about this first.”

“Joel, she would never— I trust her!“ You insist but you mostly just hear yourself sounding like a child. You want to defend your choice even further but he is already interrupting you with a dangerous chuckle.

“That’s not the damn point, honey. People talk, people slip up. You think we’re goin’ to be in the shadows for much longer now?” He sits up, hands on his bent knees.

“You’re acting insane,” you say bitterly and sit up as well, anger bubbling up in your own chest at his condescending tone and suddenly, you find yourself fighting his lecture. You bite back, “It’s not that big a deal. It’s not fun for me to hide all the time because you’re scared.”

“No, don’t you dare twist this ‘round on me when you are out there runnin' your mouth,” he growls, making you flinch when his voice is louder than you have ever heard it before, “I - opposed to you - am tryna protect what we have.”

You can hear your pulse in your ears, “You know what? Stop pretending like this is for my own good when it feels like you are just protecting yourself. Actually, maybe you should ask yourself if this is what you really want.”

Joel scoffs, suddenly hauntingly calm in his tone once more and you miss the warm tinge that his voice always has when he speaks to you, “Maybe I am some kind of fool for thinkin’ we could ever work. Maybe if we were closer in age, it’d be easier. Maybe if I didn’t have a past with your family, and I hadn’t known you since you were a kid then this wouldn’t feel so goddamn wrong.”

The words hit like a punch. Your anger mingles with hurt. It doesn’t feel fair to attack your age like he is because you cannot change it, and that’s the worst part of it. In a feeble attempt to defend yourself, you go for the killing blow.

“You think you’re the fool here? I let myself fall in love with you,” you falter with a tremble in your voice but then get a hold of yourself, pulling your knees to your chest, “I laughed at your jokes and I let you fuck me because I thought you weren’t going to run the second things got hard. Well congratulations; you got to play self-righteous to make yourself feel better. You are the biggest fucking coward, Miller.”

The second you see the glimpse of hurt in his eye, you regret every syllable yet your stupid pride makes you hold onto the image that you meant every one. You realize your wording, that you have talked about him as if you and him are in the past, and you flex the muscles in your throat to stop yourself from bursting into tears even if your face burns.

“I’ll make it real easy for ya then, sweetheart,” he says coolly, and suddenly, his weight is gone from the mattress and your heart is screaming for him to stay. You watch him move to pick up his clothes and dress quickly, not bothering to fix the way his shirt sits askew on his torso because the determination on his face tells you that he is desperate to leave.

You clutch around your knees when he bolts from the room, listen to the sound of his feet on the stairs as he descends them, and then finally flinch when the front door slams hard enough to make the whole house rattle. You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, the air leaving you shakily.

A single tear rolls down your face, followed by another but you swallow down the grief that comes with how final this interaction seems. Something about it tells you that you won’t see him for a while now, and not just because you are going back to school soon.

With shame, you slowly rise off the bed. Your body is sore, sensitive, and aching between your thighs, and you are still covered in evidence from having sex with him. Feeling him on you despite his absence is usually a thing you relish in but in this moment, it just feels like a cruel reminder of what you might not get to have in the future.

You sit down on the toilet to pee, your knees falling inwards and your body sagging from the exhaustion of what you have just been through. The heartache is so raw, sitting tightly in your throat as a lump that you can barely swallow around while you do your business and afterward mechanically take a shower and clean yourself up in front of the sink.

When you reenter the bedroom, it feels like you are an intruder and this is your crime scene. You scan the room for your things but cruelly, your eyes fall on one of Joel’s shirts hanging on the back of the chair at the desk. It is already worn, hasn’t been thrown in the laundry basket yet. Ideally, you shouldn’t walk home in the skimpy outfit you arrived in and so, you’re tempted to put it on - if not only to let his familiar scent envelop you - but you cannot risk it. The last thing you need is to walk into your parents’ house wearing his clothes, walk in with the smell of him lingering on you.

So instead, you slip back into your Tinkerbell costume in the emptiness of Joel’s bedroom, not even the ghost of him lingering, trying not to think about how excited you had been about dressing up for him just a few hours ago.

—

Your father is in the living room when you quietly enter the house again. You try to sneak past him, hoping that the low hum of the TV will distract him from your footsteps, but as you move past the doorway, he catches you off guard.

“You’re home early?” He says but it is a question as well as a statement. He reaches for the remote to turn down the volume but when he sees your face, he furrows his brows and turns off the television altogether.

You force a little smile, “Yeah, just wasn’t feeling it.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, pushing himself to stand in the soft glow of the reading light, “C’mere for a second.”

Reluctantly, you make your way to stand in front of him, your heels clicking on the floorboards. Your shoulders sag as you stop in front of his tall frame, and he studies you for a moment before nudging you with the warmth of his voice, “Did something happen tonight, honey?”

“No,” you say shakily, avoiding his gaze as your throat feels tight, “No, it was a great party but I was just too tired.”

“Hey, look at me,” he says softly, reaching out to lay his hands on your shoulders. His palms are warm and you’re cold from walking home with a barely dried-off body and no jacket since you bolted out the door. You stare into his eyes, lip trembling as he continues, “I can see you’re not okay. Did something happen?”

You wish that you could say that it is nothing because the reality of it is cruel, ten thousand miles between what he thinks he understands and the truth that you must keep painfully lodged in your chest, taking up too much space for your heart. However, the dam breaks at the gentleness he shows you, the love burning beneath his concern, and suddenly, a sob breaks free.

Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close with his hand rubbing your back. You know you don’t deserve his reassurance as he coos in your ear, has no clue how complicated things are.

You shake in his embrace, your tears wetting the shoulder of his soft shirt. He kisses your hair affectionately, squeezing you while his protective words rumble in his chest, “Listen to me. I need you to tell me if someone hurt you, okay? I won’t be mad. I just wanna help.”

“It’s not like that,” you reassure him and in response, you can feel him relax a little bit as he holds you, sighing in relief. You sniffle, resting your cheek against his chest, “I just got close to someone and it got complicated. He said some things that— I mean, I did too but it really hurt, Dad.”

“You’re allowed to make mistakes, to care for people who maybe don’t deserve it but don’t let anyone make you feel small,” he pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, pauses for a moment before continuing, “If this person don’t treat you right… maybe it’s time to reconsider how much space they take up in your life.”

“Yeah… maybe you’re right, thanks, Dad,” you reply with enough conviction that he gives you a smile, proud to have gotten through to you. You don’t have the heart to tell him that the person you are talking about is the only person that you cannot avoid either, the only person who can break both of your hearts.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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inkskinned · 2 years ago

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it is the first snow today. i think we should all have off work, even though it didn't stick. i think there should be 4 national holidays, one for each season. happy first snow, go home and make cookies. for spring it can be the first crocus. for summer the first lightning bug. for autumn, the first golden leaf. go home, kiss your dog, feed your cat (who is absolutely already-fed but somehow still starving.)

i think we should all take more showers together, but i mean that in the soft way. i mean it like taking a nap. two years ago i had 5 adult friends in my queen bed, all of us laying across each other, head over belly over thigh over hand. any time one of us would giggle, it would ripple over each of us, like pulling on a spiderweb. kim actually needed to nap and didn't get to sleep and i am still sorry for it even though this is one of my most precious memories.

i think we should all wash each other's hair, i mean. i walk my dog and i watch someone put up twinkle lights around their front porch. alex and i just moved, and i love the neighborhood. already so many of our new neighbors have stopped by to say hello. the nice lady downstairs also collects plants, like me. she gave us her number on a pink post-it note. i am trying to decide whether to make her cookies or brownies.

i am going through a very hard time. something bad happened this weekend that i do not wish to discuss. it is hanging over me. i think of the green ribbon, and the woman who had her throat cut. it feels like that sometimes, inside of my body. like i am walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like i am hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. i keep saying - at least it wasn't worse. we are so lucky it wasn't worse. the idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.

in this very dark night - the sun sets by 3 now - people don't need to, but they try anyway. they paint the missing light into things. i have an embarrassing number of missed calls and texts, but i feel the love from them nevertheless - hey. if you need something, i'm here. i will bring you food/puzzles/anything. i got you.

i think we should all have a big group chat where we do errands with strangers. this week i got lost in a home depot, which is wild because i'm a lesbian and we are actually hatched in a lowe's lumber section. there were two other women in the whole store. we ended up shopping together, at first by accident (we all needed things in the same aisle), and then because, well, why not. one of the ladies was taller than me, so she pulled down the screws i needed. i am agile and have the personality of a raccoon, so they sent me after anything below 3 feet. we talked about holiday plans and never learned each other's names, but did learn all the drama about each other's families.

i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too.

my parents drive an hour just to see the new apartment and to do the parent thing; standing in the kitchen saying things like "oh you'll get so much use from this dishwasher" and "well, you could paint that" and "when your mother and i moved it was uphill both ways and in a snowstorm and of course your brother was an infant." my mother brought me a plant for housewarming. i always say i love you before she leaves.

i play dnd on tuesdays still, after all these years. we all keep that night free. at one point, between grad school and marriage and all of it, we had to have a serious discussion about how to keep it running. we will keep going, we decided eventually. just to see each other, even if we don't play - you are all important to me. sebastian is not prone to affection but last night he stole my usual sign off - i love you all, be good, he said. he was laughing.

i don't love the winter, actually. i like snow in theory, but i grew up in the north, and am too-familiar with the season of "mud and sludge". i don't like being cold. but i do love something kind of soft and rare: every year around this time, people remember oh yes. you and i are human together. and i have love to spare.

it is the first snow, and something in my heart is finally warm again. i have spent what felt like the last 18 months just going-through-the-motions. it has felt blank and immediate, like i would never actually feel again. that sounds extremely trite and stupid - but that is the boring and familiar experience of depression. life just washes up against your windows, and you watch it happening. you see things that should be lovely and affecting, and it just whispers too-thin. i was desperately uncreative. uninterested in my hobbies. unimpressed by my writing. i told my therapist, often, i don't know how to find hope again.

almost sheepishly, something strange and lovely is burning in my chest. i keep not-looking at it, worried it will scamper back into the shadows again. it is skittish and wild, but it is so warm i want to sink my hands into its fur and feel it breathing. i love-hate it: if it's real, it can hurt me when it leaves again. but i am icarus-born, sun-lover and poet: i can't help myself. despite my best intentions, i am falling in love with life again.

i am planning to make cookies for my friends. alex and i are going to go christmas tree shopping. we picked out matching dish towels last night, and they have little mushrooms on them.

i love you. it does come back. yes, even after a long time. even for you. i promise. keep trying. you will wake up and it will be a day you can smile about.

write me when you get there. we will take the day off of work, and i will wash your hair, and we will both be laughing.

#spilled ink #writeblr #pos #recovery #my brain is like - don't trust it!!!!!!! AHHHHHHH!!!!! we can't be wrong again!!!!!!#and im like. what if the sorrow is the thing that's wrong though.#what if this - this!!!!! - is the truth

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bunny-jpeg · 9 months ago

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Your writing is so good! I hope this request is okay.

Could I please order some chocolate cake and shortbread squares please with some juice for Carlos sainz. Maybe friendly rivals. :))))

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! there's tons of things to order from it! i really enjoy making these and i love what ya'll have prompted me! so thank you! and for this lovely anon i hope that you love this story!

chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + shortbread squares ("you're just mad that that my cock fits perfectly in you now. must be a blow to the ego that we're a perfect match.") + juice (cockwarming) served by carlos sainz jr (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, cockwarming, (friendly) rivals, driver's room sex, semi-public sex, secret relationship, a lot of kissing

"you drive me crazy, mi amor." carlos said as he started to unzip his driving suit, your hands were on him in return. your lips were dangerously close together.

"please." you replied, "i don't think this is the hottest you've ran." you leaned in to seal the deal as he got the driving suit off of his shoulders. his lips tasted like heaven, he even used the lip balm that you suggested.

you and carlos were like thunder and lightning on the track. he had the speed while you had the power. and together you made quite the storm. some would call you rivals, but when it was the two of you alone in the driver's room long after everyone went home, you were more like lovers.

it was late into the evening, most had gone home. and you two were supposed to be in your respected motor homes for the night. but george and charles were doing you both favors while you two had some alone time in carlos' driver's room.

"i think he went out to dinner." charles shrugged when an assistant asked where carlos went.

and george's excuse was the tried and true method, "you know how she always walks for miles when she's on the phone with your mother." followed by a laugh. you owed both of these men so much.

the door to the driver's room was locked and you slowly got out of your driving clothes and could feel carlos' gaze on your body. you knew he loved the site of you, your curves that you had. you could easily drive him wild.

"don't look like a dog, sainz. have a little respect."

he shifted in his seat on the couch and palmed through his briefs. he licked his lips. he leaned a little bit and asked, "do you see that? that's what happens when i think about you all day."

you watched him get his cock out of his briefs and relaxed further against the couch. his smile hung and you felt a stutter in your heart. you hated how he could read you inside out and backwards. damn, sainz. but yet you were enticed to come closer and eventually got onto his lap. the both of you near naked, at least your bottom halves were.

you even got yourself out of the printed socks you wore today. you were still in your sports bra while he was shirtless. you looked into his dark eyes and smiled at him, "see what happens when i think about you all day?" then smiled.

carlos palmed our breasts and pressed his face between them. he looked up at you with those doe eyes that could put deer to shame. he replied, "i can hear your heartbeat."

you combed your fingers through his hair as you rubbed your bare pussy against his cock. you swallowed, "i thought about you all day." you held his face and looked down at him, "i have to be honest. you make racing fun, my red rider." then with a little help you sank down onto his cock. your toes curled.

"shit."

"fuck."

"come here." you said as you pulled him in for anther heated kiss. you didn't ride him. due to the hour of the day (or rather night), you two could go slower. you could cockwarm him while your lips got familiar with his. you held his face once more and he wrapped his arms around you tightly. he gazed up at you almost with love and you smiled before you kissed once more.

you hated to admit it but, you liked cockwarming him. and if you could've been in the motor home together tonight without having to worry about being too loud for your teammates, you would've happily had the comfort of a shared bed.

at least there was the off-season. you had, without the prying eyes of the press, moved some of your belongings to his home. it was a spare lip gloss here, your spare retainer, there were a few more mercedes shirts in the closet. even a stuffed animal that carlos got you after you won your second gran prix (winning twice meant it wasn't a fluke).

"you feel good against me." he said with a smile.

"oh shut up, sainz." you arched your back a little bit as his cock nudged against one of your sweet spots and it made you feel hot all over.

he chuckled, warmth in his voice as he said, "you're just mad that that my cock fits perfectly in you now. must be a blow to the ego that we're a perfect match."

you looked down at him and held onto his face a little tighter, "oh, i've seen your cock compared to some of the others. i think that maybe danny or max will suit me just fine." you moved your hips a little and watched carlos melt a little, "if i want something that doesn't bruise my cervix, maybe your teammate charles will a work.. or maybe my own teammate."

carlos made a face, "you better not be running off into george's arms. if you know what's good for you." then shuddered when you started to move a little more. he groaned against you. he knew that you'd have to cockwarm him again and sometime soon.

you two kissed while you continued to move against him. he held onto you tightly while you rode his cock. the kisses became messier the more you moved against him. it was hot and left a fire in your gut.

you both didn't last long, carlos' dirty words in your mouth as you rode him on the couch. he said to you, "next time. next time i'm keeping you on me all night. sleep together like that. i want to wake up and feel you." he said as he groped your breasts. you could feel your heartbeat in your chest as you reached your climax.

your toes curled once more as you panted heavily. you pulled him into another hot kiss. you whimpered into the kiss while he held onto you, meeting you staggered pace. he groaned into the kiss as he finished inside of you.

you both slowed down and you rested against him for a moment as you tried to catch your breath. he kissed the side of your head with love. you held onto his shoulders and composed yourself.

"next time, sainz." you said as you patted his chest, "we're doing this all night. and it'll be after i beat you on the track." that rival streak was coming out of you as you gazed at him.

he chuckled and looked at you, "sure, mi amor. now why don't we get dressed before someone tries to find us. our lie can't work forever." then kissed up your chest.

"yeah, george and charles have done enough for us tonight." you knew you'd get an earful from your teammate, but at that moment when you watched carlos redress. it was worth it. <3

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loveesiren · 29 days ago

Text

ℜ𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔗𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔬𝔬

Kwon Jiyong x f!reader

a/n: I'm sorry I'm so rusty and this is so ass lol but I made my dog listen to this song on repeat on my drive home from work and it just inspired me to write some stupid lil fluff. I wanted to post something to convince myself I can still write. Sorry its bad lol I'm overwhelmed rn. if you enjoy please leave a comment. I will write better soon ugh

song: rose tattoo - dropkick murphy's

wc: 2.6k+

warnings: alcohol, drunk tattoos

“That was fucking awesome!” Jiyong groaned as he collapsed onto the velvet couch backstage, his body still buzzing with adrenaline. He ran a hand through his damp hair and took a long swig from his water bottle, letting his head fall back with a blissful sigh. His black tank top clung to him, soaked with sweat, and his heart still pounded in his chest from the high of performing.

“No one told me Ireland parties so hard…” Daesung said through a breathless laugh, toweling off his face. His hair stuck up in different directions, and his cheeks were flushed with exertion.

“They’re wild out there,” Youngbae added, chugging from his water bottle before plopping down on the floor and leaning against the couch. “The crowd was insane.”

Jiyong’s eyes lit up. “We have to go out tonight! Celebrate!”

Youngbae raised an eyebrow at him. “Celebrate what?”

Jiyong didn’t hesitate. His smile widened, softening in a way only they recognized. “Our last night in Europe. And… we’ve got a whole week off. No planes. No soundchecks. No stage makeup. Just sleep, good food, and—” His eyes turned dreamy. “—I get to see Y/n.”

The others groaned, but Jiyong didn’t care. His thoughts had already drifted back to you. The way your voice sounded on late-night calls. The blurry selfies you’d send when you missed him. The scent of your shampoo lingering on his clothes when he unpacked.

Seunghyun rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Jiyong had been with you for six months, but he talked about you like he’d loved you for years. And maybe he had—just hadn’t met you yet. Seunghyun had seen Jiyong fall hard before, but this was different. You weren’t just some pretty distraction. You grounded him. Balanced out the chaos in his head.

He nudged Jiyong with his knee. “So what’s the plan, lover boy?”

Jiyong looked at them all with the fire of a man on a mission. “Drink with the Irish!”

The bar they stumbled into wasn’t the kind of place that catered to tourists. It was tucked on a side street, warm and dim, filled with heavy wooden tables, worn leather stools, and an old jukebox humming in the corner. Locals filled every seat, pints in hand, shouting over traditional music that played on a loop. It smelled like aged wood, beer, and something hearty simmering in the back.

Perfect.

No one recognized them, not really—not the older patrons, anyway. The bartender, a gruff older man with thick hands and a thick accent, didn’t flinch when Jiyong ordered a round of whiskey for the table. If anything, he seemed to appreciate the enthusiasm.

They downed their shots, the Jameson burning pleasantly down their throats, and the laughter came easily. They recounted ridiculous moments from the tour—wardrobe malfunctions, mic failures, Jiyong tripping over a stage monitor in Berlin and somehow turning it into a dance move. Every story spun them further into a haze of warmth and nostalgia.

Seunghyun sat back, watching his best friend with quiet amusement. Jiyong’s cheeks were pink now, and his eyes had gone soft and unfocused—not from the alcohol alone, but from the way he kept slipping your name into every other sentence.

“Y/n would love this bar,” he murmured at one point, twirling his glass by the rim. “She always says divey places have better energy. She’d probably be talking to that old couple over there by now. She just… connects with people like that.”

A fond smile curved his lips as he stared at nothing in particular. “I’ve been counting down the days to see her. She sent me this stupid video this morning—just her brushing her teeth and humming our song. But it made my whole day. Like, fuck the sold-out show. I just want to hear her laugh in person again.”

Daesung chuckled. “You’re so gone, man.”

“I am,” Jiyong said without shame, lifting his glass. “I’m fucking gone for her.”

Eventually, the whiskey had found its way into every vein, numbing limbs and loosening tongues. The bar had emptied slightly, the once-rowdy crowd thinning into pockets of quiet laughter and half-empty pint glasses. Youngbae was slumped forward at the table, head resting on folded arms, barely clinging to consciousness. Seunghyun had wandered outside for a smoke, needing air and space. Daesung was lost in animated conversation with an older Irish gentleman who reminded him of someone’s grandpa—laughing heartily and clinking glasses like old friends.

Which meant, of course, no one had been keeping an eye on Jiyong.

Tucked in the far corner of the pub, half-lit by a dim wall sconce, he sat grinning beside a stranger. The man was from London, maybe mid-thirties, rough around the edges, with inked knuckles and a travel-worn bag that doubled as a tattoo kit. He smelled faintly of cigarettes and antiseptic and was currently dragging a needle across the top of Jiyong’s left hand.

“How long ya been with her?” the man asked, his voice low and crackly as he wiped away excess ink.

Jiyong’s eyes didn’t leave his phone screen. Your face smiled up at him from the lock screen—a silly selfie you’d sent the morning after he left for tour. Your cheeks were puffy, hair tangled, eyes barely open. You were brushing your teeth with his sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder. It had made him cry the first time he saw it.

“Six months,” Jiyong murmured, heart softening. “But it feels like forever, man. She’s… fuck, she’s the love of my life.”

There was a raw, aching honesty in his voice—drunken, yes, but completely sincere.

His throat tightened as he blinked down at your photo. The distance between you wasn’t new, but tonight it felt especially unbearable. He missed your warmth, your voice humming in the dark, the way you’d touch his arm just to ground him. He missed your laugh, the way it shook your whole body when something really caught you off guard.

He missed you. All of you.

His eyes welled again.

“Oi, don’t cry now,” the man said, clearly unsure how to handle it. “Here. Have another shot, yeah? You’ll see her tomorrow.”

Jiyong nodded as he accepted the glass, knocking it back and letting the burn distract him from the knot in his chest. “Three weeks,” he whispered. “It’s been three weeks. And I’ve felt her absence every damn second.”

“Well she’ll bloody love this, mate,” the man said with a smirk, finishing the last strokes of the small rose and your name scrawled beneath it in sharp cursive. The ink was rudimentary—far from professional—but it was clear. Personal and permanent.

Jiyong stared at it with glassy eyes. The skin was red, slightly swollen, smeared with blood and ink. But there it was. Your name. On his hand. Close to his pulse. A promise etched into flesh.

“She’s always with me now,” he said softly, smiling.

“Jiyong, what the hell are you doing?” Youngbae’s voice cut through the haze as he stumbled over. Seunghyun followed right behind, a cloud of smoke still clinging to his coat.

“This is the best tattoo I’ve ever gotten!” Jiyong beamed, lifting his hand like a child showing off a finger painting.

“I’m Luke!” the British man offered with a peace sign.

Neither Youngbae nor Seunghyun acknowledged him. They were too focused on the sloppy mess of ink and blood seeping from Jiyong’s hand.

“Dude,” Youngbae hissed, grabbing his wrist carefully. “This is gonna get infected!”

“No it’s not,” Jiyong argued, clutching his hand to his chest.

“Pour some whiskey on it!” Luke slurred proudly, then immediately tilted the nearly empty Jameson bottle over Jiyong’s hand like he was salting a steak.

“Aishh, shibal!” Jiyong hissed, jerking back in pain.

“That’s it. We’re going back to the hotel,” Seunghyun said, not even giving Jiyong the option. He grabbed him by the arm, and Jiyong let himself be hauled up, still waving at Luke.

“Thanks, man! You’re a legend!” he yelled, flinging a crumpled bill over his shoulder.

Back at the hotel, the bathroom lights buzzed softly while steam fogged the mirror. Jiyong sat in the empty bathtub, shirtless, soaked with alcohol and happiness, while Youngbae knelt beside him like a tired nurse, scrubbing at his hand with way too much precision for someone who had been nearly unconscious an hour ago.

Seunghyun paced nearby, arms crossed and fuming. “Why the hell would you let some drunk guy in a bar tattoo you?”

Jiyong shrugged, eyes heavy and unfocused. “He offered.”

Seunghyun stared. “You do realize her name is on you. Forever. On your hand, Jiyong.”

Jiyong giggled. “Good.”

Youngbae sighed. “You two haven’t even gone public yet, man. If fans see this—”

“Let them see it.” Jiyong interjected.

“At least he spelled her name right…” Youngbae muttered, pressing a cloth gently over the skin. “Still, this is gonna need a serious touch-up when it heals.”

Jiyong lifted his hand, his vision swimming slightly, and stared at it. The ink was messy, and the rose wasn’t even symmetrical. But your name stood out clear and proud. It didn’t need to be perfect. It was real.

“She means everything to me,” he murmured. “This… this one means the most. It stays here. For eternity.”

And then, with a dopey smile and one last look at your face on his screen, he let his eyes close and drifted off to sleep, your name resting on his heart—inked in his skin, etched in his soul.

Getting Jiyong onto the plane that morning was nothing short of a mission. He was groggy, half-delirious from the hangover, and very much dead weight. Youngbae had ended up tossing him over his shoulder like a sack of rice while Seunghyun coaxed a still-chatty Daesung away from a local woman he’d befriended at the airport bar.

By some miracle, they made it to their first-class seats in one piece. Jiyong immediately slumped back into his seat with a deep groan, pulling the blanket over his head like a sulking child.

Seunghyun rolled his eyes and settled in beside him, just as Jiyong’s phone started buzzing in his lap.

“Y/n’s calling you,” Seunghyun said, glancing down at the screen before nudging him.

Jiyong shot upright like he’d been electrocuted, fumbling clumsily for the phone—only to drop it straight to the floor. “Shit—fuck—wait—”

With a long-suffering sigh, Seunghyun bent down and retrieved it, sliding his thumb across the screen. “Hey, Y/n! Your boyfriend is nursing a world-class hangover,” he said, flipping the camera to reveal Jiyong, who was grinning like a fool beneath a blanket, his cheeks flushed and eyes heavy.

Jiyong struggled to bring up his left hand to wave at you, but Seunghyun caught him quickly, pressing it down discreetly to hide the tattoo.

“Baby! I miss you!” Jiyong cooed, voice still hoarse but full of warmth.

“I miss you too, Oppa,” you said through the screen, your smile melting his exhaustion in an instant. “Please try to sleep on the plane, okay?”

“I’ll make sure he does,” Seunghyun promised, flipping the camera back to himself.

You giggled when Jiyong scooted closer, resting his head on Seunghyun’s shoulder just to get back into the frame. His big, sleepy eyes blinked up at you, and you could see just how much he needed rest—but more than anything, you saw how much he needed you.

“Saranghae, Oppa!” you called, and then hung up before he could say anything else.

Two flights and what felt like a lifetime later, they landed in Seoul. Everyone was groggy, sore, and over it—except Jiyong. The moment his feet hit the ground, something inside him lit up.

“Hyung, where is he—?” Daesung began, looking around.

“He ran,” Seunghyun muttered, barely looking up from his phone.

Jiyong didn’t care about his bags, his entourage, or even the airport staff trying to usher him through a private exit. All he cared about was getting to you. His heart thudded in his chest like a war drum, and his legs didn’t stop moving until he was in the car, shouting your address at the startled driver.

The entire ride to your house, his leg bounced uncontrollably. He chewed on his nails. Stared out the window. Clutched his healing hand to his chest. He just needed to see you. Breathe you in. Make sure you were real again.

As soon as the car pulled into your driveway, he was out before it even stopped fully, bolting for your front door and leaving poor Jaeho to deal with your personal security.

“Jagiya! It’s me!” he called, pounding his fist against the door.

Inside, you dropped the ladle you’d been stirring soup with, the clang echoing through the house as you tore off your apron and sprinted for the door.

The moment it opened, the world disappeared.

“Ji!” you screamed, launching into his arms.

He caught you easily, wrapping you up with every ounce of longing he’d carried for the last three weeks. His face immediately buried into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin, pressing desperate kisses into the space where your pulse lived.

“God, baby…” he whispered, voice cracking. “I missed you so fucking much…”

His arms trembled slightly as he held you tighter. It wasn’t just relief—it was a kind of quiet desperation, the ache of missing someone so deeply that you swore your body forgot how to function without them.

You let him carry you to the couch like you weighed nothing, his body pressed flush against yours as he laid you down beneath him. His lips found your cheek, your jaw, your lips, and every sound you let out fueled him like oxygen.

As your hands moved over his body, you noticed something strange—his left hand was wrapped with gauze and medical tape.

“Ji… what happened?” you asked gently.

He paused, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh… that’s actually a surprise.”

“A surprise? You broke your hand?”

“No,” he laughed, kissing your nose. “Worse.”

He sat up a little, cradling your body with one arm as he used the other to gently unravel the bandages. The tape came off slowly, and then the gauze, revealing his tender, still-red skin.

And there it was.

Your name. Inked in bold, crooked lines beneath a simple rose.

“I was drunk,” he confessed sheepishly. “At a bar. Couldn’t stop thinking about you. Some guy had a tattoo gun and… I said fuck it. I wanted your name on me. So you’d always be with me. Even when you’re not.”

You blinked down at the fresh ink, your chest tightening. The lines were imperfect, the skin around them swollen—but it was beautiful. He had carved your name into his skin. Because he missed you that much.

“Jiyong…” you whispered, fingers lightly brushing over it. “You know the whole world’s gonna know now, right?”

A slow, proud smile stretched across his face. “Yeah… and that brings me to my next souvenir.”

He reached into his jacket pocket, digging past his passport and crumpled receipts until he pulled out a small black box.

Your heart stopped.

He flipped it open.

Inside sat a diamond ring, elegant and radiant, the center stone catching the soft light like a promise.

“Will you marry me?”

For a second, the air froze. All you could hear was your heartbeat, and the sound of Jiyong’s breathing. He looked terrified. Hopeful. So stupidly in love.

Tears blurred your vision, but your smile never faltered.

“Yes!” you cried, tackling him back onto the couch, your arms wrapped tight around his neck. You kissed every part of his face you could reach—his cheeks, his jaw, his lips, his nose.

“I love you so much,” you said between kisses.

“I love you more than anything,” he replied, arms wrapped around you like he’d never let go again.

You pulled back just enough to look at his hand again, brushing your thumb over the healing ink. “I still can’t believe you got my name tattooed…”

“Signed and sealed with blood, baby,” he grinned. “Forever.”

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#kwon jiyong x reader #g dragon x reader #g dragon #kwon jiyong fanfiction #kwon jiyong #bigbang fandom #gdragon bigbang #bigbang #king of kpop #kpop idols #kpop fandom #kpop icons #kpop #g dragon fluff #gdragon fluff #kwon jiyong fluff

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caveat-canine · 5 months ago

Text

I am a

[ ] Man

[ ] Woman

[X] Dog. I am a dog in every sense of the word. I am man's best friend, their companion, their protector. I've grown alongside them. I have guarded them, their children, their precious livestock, their prized possessions. I have been raised as not only a means of defense, but a cherished member of their own pack. They create art of me. Statues, paintings, charms- they have taken my likeness and imprinted it onto whatever they can. They made things for me. Collars to protect my vital weak spots from attackers, leashes to keep me close and safe. They even made clothing for me- jackets similar to theirs and shoes to keep me warm.

I am a dog. I am an animal. I will bite, I will howl, I will bark. I am your toy breed lap dog. I am your big scary guard dog. I am the wolf pack howling at the moon, the coyote creeping in the field at night. I am the stray mutt on the city street watching you from afar, hoping for a scrap of food. I am the maned wolf peering over the grass for prey, I am the fox slinking between the bushes.

I am the embodiment of the legends and stories spread of me. I'm a trickster, I'm evil, I'm cunning. I'm selfish.

I'm a hero. I'm a savior. I'm a bringer of medicine, leader of the blind, caretaker of the ill. I live for those I love. I would die to protect them.

I'm the cute cartoon dog mascot. The overwhelmingly soft stuffed puppy plush that you never want to let go of. I'm also the chain leashes, the steel muzzles. I'm the "beware of dog" sign. I'm the bag of treats kept in the drive-thru window, just incase a four-legged, tail-wagging creature is in a car that time.

I am every dog that ever lived, live, and will live. The ones who were loved. The ones who weren't. The wild ones. The domestic ones. I am the concept of dogs themselves, whether you see dogs as a loving friend or an unpredictable beast.

I am a dog.

In every sense of the word.

#figured out my identity! this is what it is!#therian #caninekin #dogkin #nonhuman #otherkin #doghearted #alterhuman #therianthropy #nacht yips

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bigwishes · 11 months ago

Note

I’m back. I can’t help it, I’m completely addicted to your magic. Watching you grant so many wishes and transform so many people is incredible.

Work recently has been driving me crazy. All I want is to forget all about it and become a big dumb bodybuilder. So big and stupid that I won’t even be capable of stressing over work. I’ll only know how to big bigger.

Please grant me my wish, oh great one!

Sure! sorry it took so long, a lot of things get lost in the request pile so hopefully this will be a great surprise.

You want to be a big dumb bodybuilder? easy! you only want to know how to get bigger? well I can definitely arrange that for you.

You are at home laying in bed when you start to feel a strange and sudden sensation as your biceps suddenly begin to inflate with size and muscle. Veins on your arms stick out as they visible pump blood around your body. You sit up feeling the slight sting of your stretching and widening body, feeling the trembling sensation of rapidly expanding bone, muscle and sinew.

You can't help but let out a slight moan as you hear your shirt rip around your back. You look down at your legs and see your expanding thighs tightly hug your shorts before starting to slit them.

You flex you bicep and watch it tear through your shirt like it was nothing. You pull of the tattered strands of fabric from your body and go stand in front of you mirror admiring your new form.

You hear a small voice in your head

"work out now" it whispers deep into your mind

You ignore it, focusing on your new size and strength, looking at yourself you get turned on feeling as your pants tighten and you dick gets harder. You pull your pants down and ready yourself for a wild time of pleasure and flexing when a potent tingling pulses out from your pelvis. As you grab your manhood it begins to rapidly shrink, you let out a shriek and begin to panic, desperately trying to stop it but there is nothing you can do as it shrinks out of your grip.

the voice returns, now booming in your head

"WORK OUT NOW"

You drop to the ground as if you were commanded by an army drill sergeant and begin to pump out as many push ups as you can.

up and down, up and down, up and down,

you don't even know how long you've been doing this, why you are doing this.

you stop, sitting up on your knees feeling your body painfully pumped up almost like it was pushing you out from the inside, every pulse of blood forcing you to get bigger. You look at your reflecting panting like a rabid dog so sweaty and out of breath you dont even notice the carpet beneath you soaked from your sweat and starting to change colour.

You cant help yourself but flex, as you lift up your arm you can smell the stench of your sweat flood out from you like nothing you've ever smelt before. Desperate for some form of pleasure you lick you arm and taste and salt from your sweat covered arm.

Its starting to get hard to move your bulky frame, letting out a large grunting breath as you drop your arm back to your side the voice begins again.

A echoing howl in your bing

"get bigger, get bigger, get bigger, get bigger, get bigger, get bigger, get bigger, get bigger, get bigger, no purpose, get bigger, get bigger, get bigger, just a machine, get bigger, get bigger, get bigger, get bigger, be a machine, get bigger, get bigger, get bigger, no purpose, get bigger, get bigger"

You grit your teeth and grab your temples with your palms, trying to ease the sensation, but you cant stop it. You drop to the ground and begin pumping out push ups once again, as fast and as hard as you can.

You look up into your bedroom mirror as you continue to force yourself to do more, you see you face dripping with sweat and can see the stench radiating off your back, your neck is getting harder to make out from your ever swelling body. You don't even remember it getting dark out. You think about stopping, for just a minute to catch your breath.

but no

you cant stop

you need to get bigger, bigger, nothing else matters, you only need to be bigger, as big as possible, you wont be satisfied until you are too big to move.

that's it, you can't stop yourself, you can't let yourself stop, not until you are a muscle bound freak.

#male transformation #muscle #muscle transformation #male tf #tf story #transformation #reality change #musk #muscle morph

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0mg-bird · 1 year ago

Text

Sunrise~ Tyler Owens x Fem! Reader

Summary: The curious case of the tornado wranglers, down to earth, girlfriend.

A/n: I just watched Twisters and am in love. Right now Sunrise by Ryan Bingham is my favorite song so here’s a little one shot inspired by it.

Warnings: Language, implied smut

Everyone’s called you crazy ever since you were born. The people in your small Texas town said you were the wild child, your parents had four boys and when their baby girl came around, she had a mean streak just like her brothers. Ten years old and standing in an empty corn field, looking at the thunder heads forming above you, hot and muggy air gusting against your skin, the crack of thunder didn’t scare you, you were utterly curious and amazed. You’ve known storms since you were a babe, you remember the shrill sound of the sirens going off and your mama screaming for you to come inside. Your family was in a panic, you remember your daddy letting the horses loose and the way the cattle ran. That funnel touched down and prayers were prayed, you watched from the bathroom window despite the way your mama dragged you away.

It was beautiful, so utterly terrifying in the distance, a force of straight power.

You were hooked.

Telling your parents you were going to the University of Arkansas to study meteorology was a good idea in theory until they told you becoming a weather girl was a sweet job.

You told them about storm chasing and your mama almost had a stroke.

But you’ve worried everyone your whole life, only you would choose something so crazy.

You met Tyler your sophomore year when you had the same class, your energetic personality hid the fact you were a nerdy kind of cowgirl. The two of you quickly became best friends, despite his cocky personality. You formed a dare devil connection, you were the call he made when he got a lead on something.

Graduation came and you said you were going back home, he hated that idea.

“Come with me.” He said.

“Where?”

“Anywhere, everywhere.”

It’s hard to say no to a man with puppy dog eyes.

Somewhere between gathering a crew up from all over the boons and adopting a one eyed dog you found stranded after a storm in Little Rock, the two of you fell so deep for each other, it hit harder than any storm you experienced.

Here you are now in Oklahoma, cutting through fields in Tyler’s red Ram truck. “Lilly, talk to me.” You call over the radio system on the dash, looking for what data the girl in the vehicle following has. In the backseat, Boone, the right hand man, is recording like always, talking to the followers.

“Welcome back guys, we’re currently back at it again in the Oklahoma plains. This beauty we’re going into is gaining speed, turning into something good. What are we thinking, Tex?”

You look to the camera and smile. “You know, I’d like to call this an easy F2 but the strong updraft we’re getting here could push this baby into the F3 category.”

Also from the back seat, Ben, the London journalist asks to explain what you just said.

The rain cap starts and muddies the earth, the truck drifts as Tyler maneuvers it greatly. You pull your sunglasses off and lean forward to get a better look at what you’re driving into.

“What are you thinking, darlin’?” Tyler asks, seeing the way you evaluate the area.

“Take a left, it ain’t gonna hit the tree line, see the way the wind shifted?” You instruct.

“Yes ma’am.” He nods, giving you one of his perfect grins before making a sharp left.

Ben makes a sort of strangled cry of fear as he gets tossed around in the back. You, completely nonchalant, chewing on a Red Vine, turn to look at the Brit.

“Ben, baby, how you feeling back there?” You ask, pointing something else out to Tyler.

“Oh I’m bloody great.” He lies before getting knocked into the door again. You laugh. “Man, I love this guy.” You declare, finding him so amusing. “Let’s keep him, Ty.”

He rolls his eyes at you, making you scoff. You look at the dog in your lap who’s wearing a tiny helmet with the words ‘Killa’ written across the front. “What you think, Rocky? You wanna keep Ben?”

The dog lays his head down and places his paw over his small snout.

“Rude. Ty, Rock used to agree to everything I say, now you’ve done gone and brain washed him. Poor fella.” You pout before yelping in surprise at the way Tyler drifts into a spot. He grips the radio, calling for the convoy to assume their positions.

“Sorry, I’m no expert but it looks like the twister is going to roll right over us.” Ben says as everyone buckles their harnesses.

“You’re exactly right Benny boy.” You say, opening the center console and placing Rocky inside his designated safety seat. “We need to be in its path so the data bugs we’ll launch have enough wind speed to reach the height needed. Put your harness on and you’ll be about as secure as a pistol in a PTA Mama’s purse.”

Ben looks to Boone in question. Boone just shrugs. “At some point you get used to all the odd shit she says.”

Tyler cranks the E brake, then looks at you with a smirk. “You wanna touch my joystick?” He ask, motioning to the control stick that has the button to activate the drills that will anchor the truck into the ground.

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” You scrunch your nose, pushing the button.

The truck is secured, you’re all buckled in tight, now you have to focus on when it’s the perfect time to launch the processors. Things are blowing against the windows, Tyler’s laughing and Boone is howling into the camera, showing the viewers what they see.

“Tell me when.” Tyler says, and as thick water drops pummel the windshield, you stay silent, waiting…watching.

“Now!” You shout and he presses the button that activates the hydraulic opening lid to the tub in the truck bed, the small bug sensors fly out and are carried up into the funnel that is passing over you.

“Breaker breaker, what are we seeing?” You call into the radio, Dexter in the caravan off in the clearing responds. “We got eyes, Tex. Data is coming in clear.”

You shoot your arms up in victory, this was the first time you were launching the 2.0 sensors. “There we go!” You look directly into the camera Boone is pointing at you. “You see that kids? I still got it.”

You watch the storm pass you, the funnel goes into the distance and the winds calm a bit as you unbuckle your harness. You’re pulling the pup from its safety and throwing open the door, running to the spot it just was.

“Whoo!” You hear Tyler whoop, and you throw that snapback hat of his you were wearing, adrenaline pumping through you. He sweeps you into his large arms, twirling you around. “Did you see that, baby? God, that was beautiful.” He laughs and you pull on the brim of his cowboy hat. “I sure did, let’s go get those bugs before we lose their signals, cowboy.”

Later as you set up camp in some cheap motel, Ben is approaching Lilly and Boone with questions.

“I need a story about the girl, uh Tex? Does she have a name?” He settles into one of the fold out chairs and motions to you sitting on the roof of the truck, looking up at the stars and listening to the music playing on the radio.

Lilly chuckles and then makes an adjustment to her drone. “She does, but she’d kill you if she found out you was using her government name in your fancy paper.”

Ben finds that interesting, he writes a few notes about a very mysterious persona you have. “How long has she been in this business? I tried to ask her some questions but she shushed me and told me she was ‘meditating to a Childers song’ and it was very important that she did this.”

Boone shakes his head. “She says confusing stuff to make people go away when she wants her peace.” He explains. “Tex is the original, her and T were the ones to assemble the squad of us, they taught me everything I know. She might be crazier than he is if I’m bein’ honest, always pushing the limits but every move she makes is calculated.”

Lilly agrees. “She’s my best friend, but has always been a curious case. She comes from Texas, hence the nickname and the accent that gets too thick when she’s drunk. Mama wanted her to be this Southern belle but she turned out to be a real wrangler. She’s the smartest person I know, but has a very relaxed way about her.”

“Who?” Dexter asks as he passes by.

“Tex.” They answer.

He shakes his head. “That girl’s a tree hugging loon.”

Ben quickly comes to know the dynamic of you and Tyler. There is no home but each other, you make the best of every situation because you are together. Two pairs of cowboy boots and wide eyes, that’s what you two are.

“I’d compare her to like…a coyote.” Lilly determines. “She’s the perfect balance of wisdom and foolishness, always willing to make light of situations. One time, we were tracking a desert storm in New Mexico and we were camping in our trucks, it was hot, all our leads were gone and we’re ready to turn back. The sunrise comes and it’s prettiest thing I ever seen, we wake up to just a color spill of orange and pink. We open our doors up and Tex is out there dancing in a sports bra and boxers.”

Boone leans back in his chair, laughing at the memory. “Man, we thought she finally lost it, that being with Tyler for so long finally made her go off the rails. T is standing there, watching her, asking what the hell she was doing and she claims she was doing a rain dance.” He says, making Ben chuckle to himself.

Lilly lights a cigarette and rolls her eyes. “She was out there shaking her ass.”

“You fucking joined her!” Boone argues, taking the cigarette from her.

“Well yeah, you don’t let your best friend dance alone. And what happened that day? The rain came and the biggest thunderheads I had ever seen blew in. The lightning was beautiful, Ben, you shoulda been there.”

New Mexico rain was a memory you thought of often, it just felt a little fresher. Blame it on the heat you were dying of or the thirsty land you stood on, but you stood out in it, getting soaked to the bone and then fell into Tyler’s arms.

Now, far away in Oklahoma, Tyler stands looking up at you soaking in the moonlight. “Come down from there.” He calls. You lean over the edge of the roof and look at him. “Why don’t you come up here?” You challenge.

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m tired, darlin’. Let me take you inside.”

You look back up at the stars, then slide from the top of the truck, making him reach out and catch you. “Alright, take me to bed you old man.”

He shakes his head at your comment. It’s hard to resist anymore, you just looked so gorgeous underneath the moonlight. He leans to kiss you, nothing too deep but still of passion because he loves tasting the sugar of your lips, you were always so sweet that it made his head cloudy.

Arm around your shoulders, yours around his waist, the two of you say goodnight to your friends and head to your motel room, Rocky trotting after you. The lock on the door is hard to budge open, the room has a sort of stale smell.

As Tyler is distracted by setting up a bed for the dog, you grab your things from your duffel. “Dibs in the bathroom.” You shout before making a run for it. Tyler groans and tries to beat you, but you stand in the doorway, sticking your tongue out at him. “You just gotta be faster.” You tease before shutting the door in his face.

The low bulb light casts a hazy orange glow to everything, you start the shower and find it to have weak water pressure. Your clothes make a pile on the floor and soon the air steams up.

Your muscles relax as you wash off, you let out a small groan at your fingers scrubbing your scalp. The sound of the shower curtain being pulled back and Tyler stepping in behind you makes you turn. “I haven’t even been in here that long.”

He shrugs, then moves to hog the water. “I got impatient.”

After being with someone for so long and sharing everything, nothing really fazes you. The crew jokes that you and Tyler could probably morph into one body at this point.

By the time the two of you are mostly rinsed off, he’s getting handsy. His fingers trace over your handful of tattoos, wet skin sliding across you in a feverish way. You lean your head back against his shoulder, looking up at him. “Ty…”

He looks down you was an innocent smile. “Oh come on, we’ve been traveling with people for too long. We get one night without Boone gagging when I kiss you.” He says, then leans his head down, nuzzling into your neck.

You bite your lip at the feeling, your arm coming up to run your hand through his hair. “Who’s in the room next to us? These walls are thin.”

“I don’t give a shit about that.” He mumbles, hand slipping far past your navel, earning a loud gasp from you.

You lean your weight back against him, nodding feverishly as his fingers do wonders to an aching spot between your legs. “Okay, not having Boone around is really good.” You breathe.

He’s practically holding you up, his other arm is around you, holding you to his chest while he makes you fall apart.

It didn’t matter that the room hasn’t been updated since the 80’s or that the mattress groaned under the weight of the two of you or that Rocky runs and hides, the two of you were savoring this alone time because you didn’t know when the next time would be when you got it.

You’re laughing, making out and switching positions. The feel of his hand running past the valley of your breasts and giving your throat the lightest grip, it makes you feel on fire. The headboard’s getting knocked into the wall, you’re breathlessly whining and he’s loving every reaction you give him. By the time you’re gripping his shoulders so tight and his name is sounding broken as it cuts from your throat, he’s barely holding himself up.

The air conditioning makes an odd hum sound as you lay against him, skin on skin. You never understood how people could get bored of sex after being with someone for a while, having sex with Tyler Owens was hotter than west Texas in the Summer.

Well, the first time was a little awkward. Most people don’t establish they love each other before they sleep with each other, but you guys did. When you sat in his lap, lips slotted against his, you had to fight to push the idea out of your mind that you were grinding against your best friend. Everything was slow and every touch was unsure, after it ended you were scared that the relationship dynamic would never work if this was how sex was together.

You laugh now, thinking about it.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, fingers tracing the long horn skull that is tramp stamped on you.

“I’m just remembering the first time we had sex.” You shake with amusement. He groans. “You have to stop bringing that up.”

Pushing up from his chest, the blanket falls off of you. He watches in amazement as you swing your leg over his waist, your hands planted on his chest. “I think it’s cute, we were just babies.”

“Yeah, sometimes I miss the days where I didn’t know how insane you were.”

You glare, immediately going to move off of him before his grip yanks you back to your spot.

“I’m kidding, I always knew you were crazy.” He says.

“You love it.” You lean over him, and his hand comes to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “You know I do, darlin’.”

Falling asleep was easy, you could fall asleep anywhere, but in a bed with Tyler holding you to his chest, it had you dreaming in seconds. You wake before he does, slowly sliding away to get dressed. You stand at the balcony outside, a cup of coffee in your hand as you watch the sunrise. After a few moments of peace, the door behind you opens and out comes your lover boy.

“No rain dance this morning?” He asks, kissing the top of your head.

“There’s plenty of rain in Oklahoma, they don’t need me to shake my ass in the parking lot for it to come.” You state, leaning down to pick up Rocky who trailed out after Tyler.

The two- well, three of you, look out at the horizon line, the air is already getting hot.

“You ready?” He asks you, and you turn to kiss his jaw. “I’m always ready.”

#Spotify #tyler owens #tyler owens imagine #twisters movie #twisters #glen powell character #glen powell

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nehi-soda · 1 year ago

Text

Once More to See You - DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader No Outbreak AU

Explicit; Minors DNI 18+ only.

Summary: Joel knew exactly how to drive you wild, make you forget everything but the sensation of him; make you forget he was breaking your heart.

Word count: 2.5K

Warnings: POSSIBLY DUBCON as reader has been drinking (also tagged), P in V sex, ANGST, smut, secret relationship, praise kink, dirty talk, cream pie, heartbreak, Joel is kind of a dick, dbf!joel, au!joel, no outbreak!joel. Legal age gap (reader is early 20s, and Joel is 56). No use of Y/N. Mood board for aesthetics only; reader's features aren't specified other than Joel can pick them up.

A/N: Posting this a day late as I literally only started writing it yesterday out of nowhere. Enjoy!

Joel's annual fourth of July party was in full swing. Children were running around with sparklers, families were gathered around picnic tables laden with food, and the air was filled with music. Tommy was in control of the music, so of course, AC/DC and Lynard Skynrd had been playing all day. The smell of grilling burgers and hot dogs wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of freshly mowed grass and the tang of chlorine from the pool.

You spotted Joel near the grill, expertly flipping burgers and chatting animatedly with your dad. You felt a flutter of excitement, eager to see him after your last…hangout. As you approached, he glanced your way but quickly looked away, focusing intently on the food.

"Hey, Joel," you called out, trying to sound casual despite the nervous anticipation in your voice.

"Hey," he replied, not meeting your eyes, his tone brisk. He immediately turned to your dad, asking about the game they were planning to watch tomorrow.

You hovered nearby, hoping for a chance to talk, but every time you tried to engage him, he found a way to sidestep your attempts. First, he asked another guest to grab more buns from the kitchen. Then, he excused himself to check on the drinks. Each time you approached, he either walked away or started a conversation with someone else.

Determined not to give up, you followed him to the drinks table, where he was refilling the coolers with ice and beverages. "Joel, can we talk for a minute?" you asked, keeping your voice low.

"I'm busy right now," he said curtly, not even glancing up. He continued to work, his movements tense and hurried.

Your frustration grew as the party continued. You watched him from across the yard, perched on a bench gripping your solo cup tightly as he laughed and chatted with everyone else while avoiding you like the plague. You noticed the way he stiffened whenever you were nearby, how he seemed to find any excuse to move away from you.

“Hey, loner,” your friend Kayleigh slid in next to you, nudging your side. You didn’t answer.

“Um… you…oka-.”

“Not right now, Kay,” you answer abruptly, standing up to get yourself another drink. You downed it in one to try and quell the unease sitting in your stomach. Although it just made you feel even more sick. Something was up.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow and someone had started setting up fireworks for later. Joel had just left the grill, heading toward the house with a tray of empty dishes. This was your chance. With a few more drinks in your system, you'd found the courage to quickly follow him, catching up as he reached the back door.

"Joel, we need to talk. Now," you said firmly, grabbing his arm to stop him.

He looked around, clearly uncomfortable, his eyes darting to make sure no one was watching. "Not here," he muttered.

You tailed him into the kitchen.

He began absent-mindedly washing up some dishes with his back to you.

"Alright, what’s going on? Why have you been ignoring me all day?" you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest trying to sound confident.

“How much have you had to drink?” He said, ignoring your question.

“Not a lot,” you retorted, heat rising up your body.

“That’s a fuckin’ lie,” he scoffed in his southern drawl.

“Oh, so I'm the bad person now, huh?” You replied a little too loudly. “I’m just some silly little girl who doesn’t know anything, running around after you, wondering when you might fuck me next!”

Joel threw a dish into the sink with a loud clatter, making you jump. He turned to face you, his eyes flashing. "You think this is easy for me?" he hissed, keeping his voice low but intense.

Before you could respond, the kitchen door swung open.

"Hey, you two!" Tommy greeted cheerfully, oblivious to the tension. "Just grabbing another drink. Everything okay in here?"

"Yeah, just fine," Joel replied dryly, turning away from you to look out at the yard.

Tommy lingered momentarily, grabbing a drink from the fridge and chatting casually about the party. “We’re settin’ the fireworks off soon,” he said smugly with a toothy grin.

“Oh, great.” You feigned excitement, trying to act normal, but your heart pounded.

The moment he was gone, Joel turned to you, his eyes fixed. "We can't do this here," he said through gritted teeth.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. "Then where? When? You can't just avoid me forever, Joel."

Joel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fine. Upstairs. Now." Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed toward the stairs, tugging you along by your arm.

You struggled to keep up with him as his heavy boots marched up the stairs; the drink made coordinating your feet very difficult.

Joel turned to face you once you were in his all-to-familiar bedroom with the door closed behind you.

“This needs to stop,” he said sternly.

Your heart dropped at his words. "Stop what? Us?"

"Yes. Us. It’s wrong, and it’s only goin’ to end badly. For both of us." He placed his hands on his hips.

"But we make each other happy. Isn’t that enough?" You said franticly.

"It’s not that simple," his voice strained. "Your dad… if he ever found out… it would be such a mess.”

You shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes. "But he doesn’t have to find out. We’ve been so careful. Please, Joel…I love you,” you sobbed as he pulled you into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you tightly as your fingers twisted in his plaid shirt. The warmth radiating from his body seeped into your bones like a cruel comfort.

"Shhh, I know, baby, it’s okay." Joel hushed, stroking your hair. “It's just so complicated.”

“I don’t care” you pulled back, searching his eyes for any sign that he might change his mind. But all you saw was resignation.

"Please," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Don't do this."

He cupped your face in his hands. “You deserve better than this. Better than sneakin’ around and hidin’. You deserve someone who can give you everything.”

"But I don't want anyone else," you cried, tears streaming down your face. God, you probably looked like a blabbering mess. "I want you."

Joel closed his eyes, pain etched into his features. "And I want you, too. More than you know. But this... it ain't right, darlin’,” and there is was; his velvet drawl reeling you in again. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, and something inside you snapped. The finality of his touch felt like a betrayal. You shoved him back with all your strength, your hands shaking with anger and hurt.

"Don't you dare!" You shouted, your voice trembling with rage. "Don't you fucking dare tell me what's right for me. You don't get to decide that."

Joel just stood there and took it.

“I wish I never fucking met you,” you muttered.

You pushed him again, harder this time. "I wish I never fucking met you!” You repeated.

Joel's expression hardened, and in an instant, he grabbed your arms, backing you up against the wall with a force that knocked the breath out of you. Your eyes were wide as his burned into you, and for a moment, you were actually scared of him. But before you could protest, he was unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. He roughly hiked up your sundress and lifted you up by the backs of your thighs.

"This is what you want?" Joel growled, his voice low and intense. "One last time, huh?"

"Joel, please...", you gasped.

Your heart raced as his lips sloppily crashed against yours. It was intoxicating; you could smell his cologne and the beer on his breath as you wrapped yourself around him, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to lose yourself in him. One last time.

The room spun around you, the noise from the party outside fading into oblivion as he slipped your panties to the side and entered you all at once. You took a sharp breath at the sudden stretch you were unprepared for. His movements were driven by a desperate need, forcing himself into you with a mixture of pain and pleasure as you clung to him like your life depended on it. The boom of fireworks outside was the only momentary glitter of light as he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs and ass; you’d hoped to find bruises there in the morning. A flash of red, then white, then blue lit up the right side of his face."You drive me fuckin’ crazy," he leaned in to mutter against your neck, his breath hot and ragged. "I can't stop thinkin’ ‘bout you."

"Th-then… d-don't," you struggled to get your words out as he knocked the air out of you. “J-just b-be with me..."

“Aaah, fuck, who’s got good pussy baby?” Joel growled, his voice low and rough.

"I... I do," you gasped, barely able to breathe as he thrust brutally against your cervix, each movement sending shockwaves through your body.

"Say it again," he demanded, his pace relentless. "Say it again, baby. I need to hear it."

"I do! " You screamed, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths. "I-I’ve got good pussy, Joel. It’s all y-yours!”

"Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he spat. "Screwing your daddy's best friend." He whispered, raw and guttural, sending shivers through you. You could see the intensity in his eyes, his primal need for you. You started to be able to take him more easily as you became wet with arousal. You arched your back, meeting his thrusts with equal fervour, every part of you alight with pleasure. Joel’s hands gripped you tighter, holding you in place as he pounded into you."Ugh…yes, Joel,” you moaned, nails clawing at his salt-and-pepper locks to pull his lips to yours. “l love it w-when you f-fuck me.”

“Hmm, always feel so good, baby,” he pants, as his cock relentlessly slides in and out of your puffy lips. Each thrust hit that sweet spot deep within you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Joel knew exactly how to drive you wild, make you forget everything but the sensation of him; make you forget he was breaking your heart.

“That’s it, baby, it’s okay, just cum for me, cum all over this cock.”

Your body trembled as you cried out his name, your pleasure shattering through you in waves. You closed your eyes tight, feeling yourself gripping every inch of him as you dug your fingers into his shoulders. Joel held you through it, his strong arms keeping you secured against him and the wall as you came apart.

He followed soon after, his release a powerful, shuddering thing that left him collapsing onto you. He emptied every last bit of him into you with a growl. You pushed his hair back from his sweaty forehead before he buried his face into the crook of your neck, panting for breath. He pulled out of you with a groan, releasing your legs and letting your feet find the ground again. You shuffled awkwardly, rearranging your underwear and smoothing out your dress. Joel looked away, avoiding your eyes as he did his jeans and belt back up. The silence between you was thick and heavy.

"Is this really it, then?" you asked quietly, your voice trembling as you struggled to keep your composure.

Joel sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. "It has to be. We can't keep doin’ this."

You felt a surge of anger rise in your chest. "So that's it? You just use me one last time and then throw me away?"

He finally met your gaze. "It’s not like that. I never wanted it to end this way.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face.

"But we can’t keep playin’ childish fuckin’ games, and you’re too naive to see the damage this could cause.”

"Don’t you dare put this all on me," you snapped, your voice rising. "You’re the one who started this.”

Joel took a step back. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you, but I can’t see you again,” he said coldly.

You turned away, your heart shattering with every word he said. You couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. "Fuck you, Joel,” you spat, storming toward the door. You yanked it open and stepped into the hallway.

Downstairs, the sounds of the party continued but it all sounded like you were underwater.

You moved quickly to the front door and stepped out into the night, the cool air hitting your tear-streaked face. You hugged your arms and walked quickly. The air smelt like sulphur as fireworks illuminated the sky. You didn’t stop until you reached home.

The house was eerily quiet. Too quiet.

Your heart felt like it was being crushed in a vise, each breath harder to draw than the last. You could barely see through the blur of tears as you climbed the stairs, having to use your hands to steady yourself.

You reached your room and slammed the door shut, leaning against it for support. Your legs trembled, and you slid down until you was sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest. You clenched your fists, trying to push down the sobs, threatening to break free. You had known the risks, known how wrong it was, but you hadn't been able to help yourself.

Fucking your dad’s best friend, what did you expect; thought you’d live happily ever after with a white picket fence?

Maybe Joel was right. Maybe you were too naïve. You were fucking crazy to think this could have ended any other way.

But no one made you feel like Joel did. No one felt like Joel did. It was electric. The way he touched you, the way he made you feel alive, cherished, and understood, no one had ever come close. Joel was everything you had ever wanted and more. But now, it was all over.

A soft knock on your door. "Sweetie, can we talk?" Your dad’s voice was gentle, but you couldn't face him.

"Go away," you choked out, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Wondered where you were. You’re missing the fireworks, honey.”

"Please, just leave me alone."

“Hm, Joel did say you weren't feelin’ well, had too much to drink?”

How so desperately you wanted to tell your dad everything just to relieve some of the weight off of your shoulders, but how could you? How could you tell him, oh, by the way, I've been fucking your best friend behind your back for months, buts he’s just ended things and torn my heart into a million pieces? I know exactly just how many kisses fit between his eyes? I know the face he makes when he cums, and I think I can actually feel his cum leaking out of me right now?

divider credit to @kthice

*title inspired by "Once More to See You" by Mitski

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller one shot #tlou fanfiction #hbo joel miller #no outbreak!joel miller #tlou #tw dubcon #Joel miller

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