#and 18 is the “start” of adulthood

[qichonen]

if someone reads this and it sounds stupid tell me asap pretty pleaseeeeee ok?

right so i hate the idea of having kids but i dont.

i came to the conclusion that having children would be the worst thing to happen ever to me when i was 12 or 13 – and this was fresh off the heels of me doing research / finding out about disproportionate maternal death rates amongst women of color + the origin of modern day gynecology etc etc.

in my mind, not only did i have this sudden fear that getting pregnant in life would result in an early death, but the idea of being around screaming children and spending hours stressing over babies also plagued me.

— that's really dramatic for a 7th grader but im an only child (surprise to no one) who used to have this weird obsession w like... being upset id never be an aunt. idk i was weird but anyways...

putting that depressing atmosphere aside, im getting to a point where i think i wouldn't mind having a family later on in life (in my 30s maybe?). ive been transitioning out of the corny "love isnt real and couples are cringe" mindset since i was 15 and the idea of being able to find someone you love and trust, settling down somewhere with them, growing with them, and building each other up is something i daydream of nowadays. maybe it's the hopeless romantic in me, but whatever.

but i feel like having kids would be a sort of extension of that.

i always wondered why anybody would have children (outside of humans' natural survival instinct/societal pressure lol), and always chalked it up to selfishness and a person's need to "prove" themselves in some way. to prove they have some sort of purpose. because 14yo me was just wildly pessimistic ig.

but ive started to think harder and realize that if i were to ever have kids, it would be for the simple joy of them being a product of love.

fuck, that's corny. 😭

i think having children and being able to raise them with a genuine partner / significant other is such a beautiful concept. you get to raise these human beings from the start of their life to the moment they're ready and able to be independent. you create memories and essentially mold them, making your child a literal and figurative extension of yourself whilst simultaneously creating a new, unique personality. not only is that sooo fucking cool, but it's proof of the love YOU hold within you.

but the theory of conception and parenthood on its own... at least my theory... i just dont hate it as much i used to i guess.

of course, not everyone is privileged enough to have a simple or clean upbringing – and i fully understand that this post comes across very idyllic and kind of... silly? in that regard.

what would i know, though, lol.

[moodr1ng]

idk if this is a common issue for anyone else but i find that i hang out w a lot of people who look younger than their age, and i think its particularly bc my social circle is trans-heavy and i tend to find a lot of trans people look young? like the transmasc babyface is known but its also true for transfems ime. so ive become notoriously bad at determining how old someone is based on their appearance. this is an issue for me bc ill see someone on social media like tiktok or whatever and go "oh theyre kinda cute" thinking theyre my age and then i go to their profile and theyre like 20 and its the worst thing everrr

[butchlifeguard]

I HATE FANDOM WANK YALL ARE UNHINGED. VERY NEGATIVE BTW

[thebleedingeffect]

Damn I sorta feel bad about this fact but like, I just gotta be honest with myself and admit that I just do not like my step-brother, which is kinda sad to me. There used to be potential for something there once upon a time, but he's just gotten so nasty, demanding, and rude, as well as some other stuff, that I just find myself not really caring anymore. I don't know, it's just sad cause I remember caring not even a couple of years ago, but now I just... don't. Ah whatever, I grew up my entire life as an only child so I know I won't be losing anything, it's just sad seeing how he's gotten

[abby420]

love being an older sister sometimes bc like i get to be like omg i am going to fill your lives with so much joy and great memories

[sugaroto]

It's my last day being a kid and I'm stuck here having to study

[sanguivor]

was avoiding talking about it here because I was afraid I'd jinx it but I've been trying for years to get myself a passport so I can go back home to germany but the process was finalized yesterday and it'll be here in a few weeks :')

[starlightastral]

I really appreciate this actually. I am very firmly in between. I kinda got pushed into the "I have always been a girl" perspective, but it felt off and sometimes even made me feel dysphoric.

I was a boy, that's no doubt, even though yes I did struggle with being a boy and it wasn't a good time :'), but I was a boy nonetheless.

Referring to my old self, I don't want people to use my deadname, but he and she is both fine, and honestly I don't like it when people call the old me a little girl

we need to make peace with the fact that "i am a girl and retroactively i always was even when i didn't personally think so" and "i am a girl but i used to be a boy" are both equally valid ways to be transfem and both are punk af bc they equally reject societal norms of what a person's gender experience should be

[backpackingspace]

......oh. I just

Sometimes I know things about a character that I've latched on to that I don't think that deeply about. Until it hits me that that was me. I was that age the character was when I was going through the exact same trauma and i just.

If they didn't deserve it. If they were a child then so was I. So was I.

[twisted-tales-told]

I’m gonna VENT in these TAGS

[suguann]

✎. he’s nice. well, that’s what everyone’s been telling you.

tags. fem!reader, mild dubcon, possessive and obsessive behavior, simon is an excon, non-linear narrative for future chapters [18+ only]

part one | part two

He’s always been a little obsessed with pretty things, even as a child.

It only makes sense that the habit would follow him into adulthood.

He sees you once while he’s walking by the bus stop. A timid thing wrapped up in an oversized sweater and parka coat, not looking up from the little book in your lap until the bus stops before you and takes you away.

The next time he sees you, he makes sure to come a few minutes earlier, lighting a cigarette and keeping his distance while he watches you read the same book from the day before. Simon knows it’s you, the girl from the letters, even if it’s a big city. It has to be—his pretty, lonely, silly girl.

He thinks about walking up to you just to make sure, but he doesn’t really need to. The address on the envelope brought him here, and you’re the only one he’s seen wearing a university sweater in this neighborhood.

But when he hesitates too long, a boy starts talking to you, and he watches you smile at somebody else.

Simon runs his thumb over his bottom lip and takes a deep breath to fill his chest with the soothing feeling of menthol and the burning taste of nicotine, trying to relax his white-knuckle grip on his steering wheel. 

You’ll learn, he thinks, when the bus drives off, and the boy doesn’t follow you on. He’s a patient man—it’s possibly one of his finer qualities.

He lets his car idle as he climbs out before crushing his cigarette bud underneath his shoe, straightening his black tie, and crossing the street. The boy sees him and freezes, but Simon can only laugh, wiping blood off his cheek several seconds later.

You’ll learn.

He’s nice.

Well, that’s what everyone’s been telling you. But nice, you've learned, can mean any number of things: a nice laugh, a nice house, a nice job, et cetera.

But how he holds himself—tall, broad, and dangerous—hardly screams nice.

It’s funny because you don’t remember seeing him around the office before—the company, including IT, occupies only four floors in the building. 

Someone tells you he’s a friend of a friend. This initially sounds odd until Rose, the office gossip, says he’s someone rich who helps fund the company's social events. Hence, the crisp suit and the wide berth of space you’d give someone who wields their smile like a weapon. 

You quickly look away twice when you find that smile aimed at you, heat traveling up to your hairline at an alarming rate.

It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s not your type. 

“Enjoying the party?” 

You nearly jump out of your skin at the deep voice so close to your ear. Careful not to spill your drink, you turn your head to find him smiling down at you with a sharp curl of his mouth.

Then he’s in front of you, eyes dark and crinkling in the corners.

“Uh, yeah. It’s not bad, though,” you squeak nervously when you realize you haven’t answered him. “It’s different from what I’m used to.”

He raises an amused brow. “Oh? And what might that be?”

He’s intimidating up close, and you take a small sip of your drink to ease your nerves. “Well, no kegs or trashy music playing, and boys with egos bigger than the room.”

The man lets out a low chuckle as he considers your honest reply, and you swear you see something ripple across his features, but when you blink, it’s gone. “I suppose that differs from top-shelf liquor and live bands, huh? Which is better?”

You shrug. “Well, it depends on who you ask.” 

“I’m asking you.”

“Honest answer?” 

He nods. 

“Neither. I don’t really care for parties.”

“Then it’s quite unfortunate that you found yourself at one tonight.” He seems privately amused, in on a joke you have no part of. Then he says, “You want to get out of here?”

“I probably shouldn’t follow a stranger home,” you tell him bashfully.

“That’s very responsible of you. Then how about I get you a drink? There’s a hotel across the street, and the bar’s not shit.”

You bite your lip, and his big, warm hand is on the small of your back before you say anything. It must’ve been written all over your face like he knew you would say yes.

He’s ever the gentleman, unlike most boys your age. Though, perhaps that’s the difference. He isn’t a boy—nothing about him can hardly be described as such. This fact becomes a bit overwhelming and more evident once he has you on your back, thighs nearly up to your ears, and held in place by a firm, intricately tattooed forearm.

His smile—almost too sharp to be nice—makes your chest do this silly thing when he says, “Let’s play a game.” 

You whisper into the night air. “What kind of game?”

“It’s simple. You tell me yes or no.”

Your brows furrow, unsure of the rules of the game. “But—”

The slap against your cunt isn’t harsh, but it’s the suddenness of it, how no one has ever thought to touch you like that, is what makes you squeak and tremble underneath him—the rings on his fingers sharpening the sting—trying to scurry up the bed, but hindered by his iron grip.

“Yes or no?”

“Y-yes.”

“There’s a girl,” and then his fingertips drop down to where you're slippery-wet and sensitive, moving in hard, tight circles until you're clenching down on a curse between your teeth. "Messy little cunt."

It's too much, you think when he plugs two fingers (feeling like three of your own) into your pussy. The muscles in his shoulders roll as he shoves his fingers in and out, batting your hands away when you try to get him to slow down. Too much, too—

“It’s not. I want you to cum like this,” he says, teasing, nudging your clit with his thumb and swirling it in tight spit-slick circles; you have no choice but to chase that bright light feeling until you cum, sticky and sweaty. 

Just like he promised you would, your orgasm is a shivery thing, molten heat, incandescent, settling in your veins until it pours out of you like liquid wax against the scratchy hotel sheets, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, his fingers curl up and press into where you’re soft and tender.

He smiles. “This is fun, isn’t it, love?”

“I can’t,” you whimper, not exactly answering him. “No more, please.”

His eyes, already pupil-fat, go dark at hearing you beg, nostrils flaring. Please, the key for the small amount of mercy he grants you as he replaces his fingers with his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to your clit and lightly sucking it into his mouth. His lips are just there, and then they’re gone.

“Say it again.”

Your response is a wet little hiccup at the back of your throat. “W-what?”

“Beg me.”

“Please.”

“Again,” he says one more time.

“Please, please, please…”

It’s all you can think to say, strung between that dreamy space and reality, that you don’t even notice him flipping you onto your tummy with ease, not until the light in the room is blotted out as he leans over you. He wraps a hand into the scruff of your neck and presses your face into the bed, the other tucked under your hips to keep them at the right angle—held down with nowhere to go.

He leaves biting open-mouthed kisses across your shoulders and the back of your neck—Simon—he manages to tell you his name from one little bruise to the next. Somewhere between the buzz in your ears, you hear him telling you that he wants you to moan it for him, nice and loud.

The haze clears a little, however, at the metal clink of a belt and the sound of a zipper coming undone before you feel his cock prodding you open—raw, without a condom.

“There you go. Lay there, and just—just give me what I fucking want,” Simon rasps as if you could actually move with his hands pinning you in place. 

There are many things you should feel: scared of his words, trapped by the rings digging into tender flesh, by his thighs forcefully pushing yours apart. The red flags look more like flashing lights at this point.

Instead, you feel wanted—your walls tighten around his cock, fluttering, pulling him deeper inside, letting him turn you inside out. A small smile buried into the pillow.

[bi-writes]

ok but soulmate au with ghost but it's the fucking opposite of rainbows and sunshine. (18+)

you share his trauma. his stress. his anxiety. you do not know who he is, and yet you know the pain of a thousand punches because it's the only feeling he has ever given you. you know the grueling ache of abandonment and the terrible neglect of abuse and the disgusting amalgamation of all your worst nightmares before you even turn 20. everything that he gives you feels aggressive, like it burns, and he only ever gives you reprieve for so long until you just feel it all over again.

it makes you tired. it makes you sick. at first, as a girl, all you wanted to do was comfort him. you wanted to know who he was so you could kiss the cigarette burns that you feel and soak up the blood you know he bleeds.

but as you age, you begin to hate him. you hate him because he does this to you, he hurts you, doesn't he know that he's hurting you? doesn't he know that everything he feels, you feel tenfold, doesn't he know that the terror and the horror of everything he witnesses weighs down your chest, makes you feel like you're drowning over and over and over again?

for a few years into your adulthood, everything is quiet. you feel little except the ache in his back he never tends to, the creak of his knee joints that he refuses to stretch out. you wish you knew him so you could scold him for it, but you curse at a ghost. sometimes you think about doing something to get back at him--you think about carving a FUCK YOU into your arm, about throwing yourself in front of a bus just so he can fucking understand that his entire life is one fucked-up cycle of pain and misery and horror, but you can't bring yourself to do it.

you can't hurt him. you just can't.

and then, the real pain begins. it brings you to your knees, this pain. you scream, you wail, because it feels like you're being carved from the inside-out. your face burns. your chest heaves. you feel like your ribs are breaking, you can't breathe, you claw at the invisible wounds that your soulmate must be wearing, and you beg him to stop, you beg him to let me go--just fucking die already--please, please, please--

those weeks haunt you. the torture he endures, it is branded to you. you wear no scars, and you never lost any blood, but the phantom flesh that you know is gone follows you in your sleep and never shuts up. it talks, it snarls, it eats at your insides. even when he heals, you are never the same. you wake up from nightmares that you know you share with him. you look over your shoulder for the predators you know he has encountered, and you cry yourself to sleep over the loss of something that you can't even decipher because you have no idea who he is or what he buried to feel this way inside.

he's sick. he's twisted. he's a walking corpse, he has no redeemable qualities, he is selfish and mean and cruel, and you hate him, and if it wasn't for the pain that you would feel, the first thing you would do when you saw him is drive something right through his heart to finally stop the undying infection he spreads to everything that he touches.

you know it is him when you finally meet him. you would know him anywhere; you’d know him just by the scars alone who he is because you remember what it felt like when he got them. when you eye the sleeve of tattoos along his left arm--the fucked, shitty, sunburnt art that made it impossible for you to finish your university exams. the faded, grey circles that line the other, ones you recognize being from the burning cigarettes that you would smell when you closed your eyes. and when he removes his mask briefly, you recognize the scar that cuts above his lip and strikes through his eye--that one left you reeling on the bathroom floor particularly loudly. you thought he might be blind if it wasn't for seeing the darkness of both of his eyes.

you start to cry. you start to cry because as soon as he realizes who you are, as soon as you see that flicker of knowing flash across his eyes, all of the hatred and the anger and the poison that plagued you for all this time vanishes. everything you fought so hard to feel, all the misery you wanted to bestow upon him for making your life a living hell, it's gone.

because the universe is cruel, the universe has done what it has done, and it has made this singular person just for you, and against everything you believe, you know that you love him, and you hate yourself for it, and you hate the universe, too.

you have endured. but maybe you endured so he didn't have to. maybe you endured so that he could have this, the feeling that he feels right now, that feeling of sudden relief.

he slides a large hand over his chest, flinching slightly. he blinks, understanding suddenly that he's feeling your joy, your elation. when you shuffle your way over to him, breaching the conversation the men around him are having, you ignore their confused stares as you fling yourself into his chest.

ghost forces you against him, trapping you to him. he practically chokes, tangling a gloved hand into your hair, and you sob into the warm skin of his neck as he hoists you into his arms, into his lap. you don't pay attention to the curious voices around you, you just bury yourself into him and cry. his body is the evidence of all that has happened to him, and you aren't angry anymore because you're relieved.

he's real. he's alive. he's here. he's okay.

when you pull back to look up at him, you blink away the tears that are falling fast down your face. he stares down equally as intensely, drinking in the sight of those big, wet eyes. when he smooths a big hand down your face, he grumbles when he realizes what you are, how you know him.

he never realized this was what he and his soulmate shared. you in your life had never felt pain like he had--he had no idea what he was doing to you. he had no idea what you were surviving at the same time.

he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours, and your lips tremble as you cup his cheeks and hold him close.

it feels wrong to feel this kind of comfort, but he does anyways. he thinks, maybe, that perhaps the only reason he survived was because of you.

because there was someone else, far away, that loved him enough to keep him breathing. even when he thought it was over.

[souvlakicocaine]

30-40 yr old men love calling 18-22 yr old girls “grown ass women” specifically when they want 2 fuck them 🤷‍♀️

[mv1simp]

requested: max + best friend + somnophilia + cum marking

Unforgettable ♥️

Max Verstappen x Best Friend!Reader

if you loved the girl then I’m so so sorry (i got to give it to her like we in a marriage)

You and Max grew up as childhood best friends, secretly enamoured with each other but prohibited to openly date by both your strict fathers. But as adults, there’s nothing to stop the naughty desires you two have for each other finally leading to pleasure activities. You just had no idea how naughty your Max’s desires for you had become as of late…

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dom! Dark max, sub! Innocent reader, size kink, dub con/non con elements, brief mentions of some teen max x reader being kinky, but mostly as adults, HEAVY on the somno!!, cum play/cum marking, WC 4.2k

You’ve known Max Verstappen your whole life. First as his childhood best friend, meeting through your fathers who both had a keen interest in racing. The young Max immediately became enamoured with how cute you looked grasping onto his sleeve to loyally follow him everywhere. He welcomed your constant support and cheering, a comfort to the cold discipline his own father gave him daily. You were the one source of happiness and positivity for him, with your sunshine smile and blushing cheeks as you oohed and ahhed at his track performance.

Your friendship continued easily through your teens, and then into adulthood, with you naturally moving to Monaco at his invitation. Just like you’d always done - with Max leading, and you obediently following. Of course, for a boy and a girl to be as close friends as the two of you were led to more than a few eyebrows being raised and curious questions asked, especially when Max’s career skyrocketed and he became one of the most famous athletes worldwide. But you both swear multiple times to your family, friends and the media - nothing of the romantic sort happened between the two of you, it was all completely platonic, just a healthy friendship. And that was the truth, because Max’s father had forbidden him from getting entangled with the little girl following him around as he had a racing career to focus on, and after that countless models to date - much more fitting for an F1 driver than some shy, girl next door type. And your strict, conservative father had raised you traditionally, sending you to an all girl’s high school and banning any boyfriends or dates of any sort. Max was in fact the only boy you were allowed to speak to, given how close your fathers were. But you weren’t to think about any boys until it was time to get married, your father had told you sternly. There’s too many bad men that would hurt my baby girl, he added with a ruffle of your dark curls.

Your father would have had a heart attack if he’d known that the teenage Max had already begun sneaking into your bedroom window nightly once you’d been sent to a different school than him. You’d found it so sweet that he misses you so much, saying that it wasn’t enough time to just see you on the weekends. Soon enough he’d end up falling asleep in your bed after you spent hours talking and reading racing magazines together, just like the sleepovers you two would occasionally have as toddlers when the adults had too much to drink.

You loved that Max would always be there for you, especially when you started having a hard time at your new school with a group of mean older girls. Max’s normally soft blue eyes had narrowed as you sadly mentioned how they’d made fun of you. He wiped the tears away at the corner of your eyes and assured you he’d help take care of it. You weren’t sure exactly what he’d done the next day when the group of girls all avoided eye contact and apologised to you publically, telling you they didn’t realise you were the girlfriend of Max Verstappen - who by now, was a international karting champion and set to join the junior Redbull team at only 16.

You’d blushed, trying to dismiss their belief of you being Max’s girlfriend that had started to become a frequent rumour these days. While it was true you’d always had a crush on the handsome blonde Dutchman, he’d never once shown you that he reciprocated your feelings, always just being a good friend to you. Like that evening when he jumped through your windowsill with familiar movements, waving off your grateful thanks and telling you it’s what best friends did for each other. Besides, you’re so tiny and cute, just like a bunny, it’s my job to look after you if I’m called the lion! He declared, alluding to your individual favourite childhood animals. Later, he curiously asked what the girls had actually teased you about, saying he’d forgotten to ask because he had been too angry with them. You blush a little, because you’re not sure if it’s too embarrassing to tell him as it’s a girl thing, Maxie…

He encourages you to tell him, insisting there were no secrets between the two of you, who’d practically known each other since birth. You couldn’t argue with that, and shyly tell him that it was because the older girls had seen you changing for sports class last week and had said you must have gotten a good surgeon with boobs like that. I-I don’t know what they mean, Maxie, you said with an anxious bite of your lip. Do they look weird?

Oh, Max had said, caught off guard, pretty blue eyes suddenly wide as they automatically drifted down to your clothed chest. Even through the pink camisole you’re wearing to bed, it’s hard to miss the way your new assets stretched the thin material to its limits. I’m sure they look nice, bunny. But I - his cheeks go pink - I can look at them properly if you want?

Your brown doe eyes go starry eyed and you nod happily at his offer. Will you, Maxie? Thank you so much! It’s so kind of you. Beaming up at your friend, you thank him again for his thoughtful offer as you lift the singlet above your breasts. You don’t really have any other friends to show them too, because you spend all your spare time with the Dutch boy, and your mother is also too strict like your father to talk about your teenage troubles with. You’d be lost without Max!

The blonde teen in question swallows as he intently looks at your bare chest, now exposed for him. The night breeze stiffens your nipples, making them stick out against your caramel skin. They’re very pretty, schatje, he finally says, his voice sounding a strange and deeper than normal, after he stares at them so long you start to get worried that there had been something wrong, after all. You tell him this, to which he reassures you soothingly, but you’re still on edge. What if my future boyfriend doesn’t like them, Maxie? Your best friend’s eyes darken suddenly at the mention of some other boy seeing your body in a way only he had been allowed to so far. You're a little taken aback at the unfamiliar, cold expression on his normally warm face, but then you blink and he's back to his blushing self, eagerly showering you with his reassurances because he never wants you to doubt how perfect he thinks you are.

So that’s why, now as adults living in his Monaco penthouse, Max makes it his personal mission to make sure you know how beautiful you are. Your conservative parents have no idea that you live together, of course - they still think you live in the quaint 1 bedroom apartment a few minutes away from your university campus. But your modest apartment had mysteriously been shut down by the Housing Council of Monaco, who’d told you there had been a termite infestation and you were indefinitely out of a place to live. You’d been puzzled why your apartment was the only one on your floor that seemed to be affected by something so contagious - but when Max generously offered to ease all your financial troubles and let you crash in his guest bedroom, you gratefully accepted. You’d never told your strict parents about the move, of course, since it was only meant to be temporary and they’d kick up a fuss over nothing.

You were so thankful to your best friend, and made sure to always clean up around the house and bake his favourite treats to repay him in some way. Max’s favourite way to destress after a long day is to cuddle against you on the sofa, burying his face in your pillowy, soft chest as you giggle and run a comforting hand through his blonde locks. He complains about drama with his team and car this season, husky voice muffled against your clothed breasts. The low vibrations would make you involuntarily shiver and he’d always know when you were wearing a bra, because he wouldn’t be able to see your tempting nipples through your top. Schatje, he’d say sternly with a disapproving glare, yanking your pastel cardigan up and revealing a cute, lacy bralette. We talked about this, it restricts your circulation, it’s not healthy to wear a bra at home too, hmm? You apologise sweetly, pouting and telling him that you were sorry, it was just you’d had to wear one for your university tutorial earlier and sometimes your back really starts hurting if your bra isn’t supporting the weight of your chest…

Hmm, let’s see how we can fix that, okay bunny? He lifts you to sit in his lap, your back to his toned abs, and your underwear coming into direct contact with his jeans underneath your miniskirt. Sliding his large, strong hands over your smaller waist, he makes you gasp as he unclasps your bra and starts gently squeezing your bare breasts. The soft flesh fills his palms, and you shyly ask him what he was doing, he didn't have to trouble himself helping you. When he shushes you, reassuring you that he was just massaging the tension and pain out of your tits, see, doesn’t that feel good schat? You find yourself nodding, leaning back against his broad chest because and biting your lip because it did feel amazing. You didn’t know that being touched there would make you feel dirty things someplace else, like in the place between your legs that begins to feel warm and tingly. Especially when Max would roll your nipples in between his large fingers, or when he’d press his tongue in between your bare tits and lick at your caramel skin. You couldn’t resist arching your back into his talented mouth when he latched onto your areolas, unable to control the breathless moans that escaped. You were seriously so lucky to have a friend who took your comfort and health so seriously!

Of course, you were clueless that Max had taken the boundaries well beyond what would be considered acceptable for any other friendship. You still barely had any friends outside of Max - especially since your friendship with him kept you so busy, flying around the world with him constantly. But everything you two did felt so natural, like a progression of how you’d looked after each other other as kids, that you never felt weird or uncomfortable. You only ever felt good with Maxie. That was also why you’d always call him first when you were on a night out and had gotten a bit too tipsy - you didn’t trust anyone else to look after you. Max had warned you, just like your father had, about all the bad men who were out and would hurt you. He very rarely let you go out without him for this very reason.

But when you would, for a girlfriend’s birthday dinner or the other, he’d be the one to drive you home and carry you up to the apartment. He’d smirk at your drunk antics, where you’d whine it was too damn hot and start sloppily tearing off your cute, sweetheart minidresses. He loved when you got like this, obediently crawling into bed with him in scraps of lace, when normally sober you put up a fuss that only a couple slept like that, it was wrong, his girlfriend wouldn’t like this! Pulling your pliant form into his warm chest, he’s pressing kisses to your forehead before sliding his tongue into your open, pink mouth. You kiss him back passionately, breathlessly chanting his name, contently lost in how nice his lips feel. You loved the familiar feeling of Max’s arms around you, always making you feel safe and protected. And when his large, strong palms run up and down your sensitive body, sending electric shivers running when his bare skin touches yours, you can’t help but moan sweetly into his mouth. Mmmhh, feels good, Maxie you slur, eyes fluttering shut and thick ass grinding back against his clothed bulge, before you fall asleep from his slow, rhythmic movements as he explores your tired body.

Secretly, not that you’d ever admit it, you knew there was something a little naughty with the way he touched you. You’d watched enviously through cracked doors when he’d touched his girlfriends in the same way, hating when his attention was on some other girl and not on you. But you could never ask him sober to take care of you like that, not when you were sure he thought of you like a friend. So you frequently started to get a bit too tipsy out on a night out, knowing it was much easier to cross the line of friendship into something more when you could blame it all on the tequila. And your Maxie would never turn down a chance to reciprocate your touchiness - his love language was physical touch, after all!

You had no idea that after you'd fall asleep, your precious Maxie’s fun really began, every night that he managed to bring you into his Californian King. If you hadn’t been so naive you would know it was far from normal for a guy friend to climb into bed with his drunk girl friend, who was wearing nothing but some white lacy lingerie underneath her clubbing dress that's abandoned on the floor. Lingerie which he now pulls to the side as he squeezes your juicy tits and lightly fingers the entrance of your pussy. His dark, hungry gaze rake over your tempting form, taking in your curves that have now filled out. He lazily jerks himself off to the pretty little thing passed out in his bed, peppering kisses to your chubby cheeks, your delicate neck, and to your plush breasts which bounce with each sleepy breath you take.

And once your breaths turn heavy and slow when deep sleep claims you, there’s nothing stopping him from slipping his angry, leaking cockhead out and sliding it along your puffy folds. You unknowingly drip your wetness all over his shaft as he groans into your ear, his breath warm as he pants desperately above your peacefully sleeping face. Sometimes he can’t resist and slips just the tip into your tight little hole, the one you still thought was untouched by anyone.

You’d probably die if you knew the truth - that your cunt had in fact been abused many times by your best friend. Max regularly enjoyed teasing your puffy slit with his fingers, his tongue and of course his cockhead- all while you lay blissfully sleeping next to him. He’d take any chance he could, no matter how risky. One time you’d passed out on Max’s lap aboard his private jet, exhausted from the day at a boiling hot Qatar race. He’d stroked your curls lovingly, murmuring sweet nothings to you until you were in a deep sleep on his thick muscular thighs, even drooling a little onto his jeans. All he’d had to do was dim the cabin lights and half cover your face with a blanket under the guise of not disturbing you if anyone walked past.

Nobody would have been able to guess that underneath the privacy of the blanket, Max Verstappen was slowly sliding his aching, fat cock into your wet mouth. You’d instinctively started suckling on it like a lollipop, making him chuckle at what a natural slut you were for him. Grabbing a hold of your curls, he’d easily manoeuvred your soft, pliant lips up and down his shaft, enjoying the drool you left all over his warm length. Breathing heavier, his movements quickened and his thrusts became shallower until he finally goes still, tensing in your mouth and spurting ribbons of his cream down your throat. You’d slept straight through the dinner service, after all. Afterwards, you’d woken up with sticky lips and an unfamiliar taste on your tongue, dazedly blinking up at Max who was playing on his phone above your sleeping figure on his lap. Good nap, schatje? he croons adoringly at you, brushing your hair lovingly when he sees you’d awakened. You’d nodded happily, feeling content and secure in his hold.

Lately, sneaking around while you were asleep hadn’t been enough for the world champion. He wanted you all to himself, all the time. His new tactic involved making sure you knew that his latest girlfriend - or his model "pump and dump of the month" as his guy friends joked - had broken up with him. All because she’d heard you had climbed into bed with him naked, tipsy after a night out, Max would declare to your with a dramatic sigh. Or she’d found your lacy underwear mixed in with Max’s laundry, and had accused him of cheating before storming out. He wondered what his exes would have done if they found out the lacy things he’d had lying around were actually due to his dirty habit as a teen of stealing your underwear to sniff and guiltily keep in his stash. It was a twisted desire he hadn’t grown out of as an adult, instead just finding your new panties sexier and enjoying ruining them with his cum now. Some nights, when he was feeling particularly possessive of you, he’d pull one lacy side up to slide his length underneath, now rubbing his drooling cockhead against the juicy swell of your ass. One night he’d even just slipped your panties all the way off, jerked off slowly to them as his other hand explored your pliant body greedily, making you gasp breathlessly when he buried his face in between your jiggling tits and gently bit your cute nipples. After cumming a thick load into the pink lacey fabric, he then slid the ruined panties back over your curvy ass. You’d remained completely clueless to your best friend’s filthy nighttime acts in your bed, blissfully dreaming.

So after telling you that you must have left your panties in his bed the last time you passed out there drunk, and made his girlfriend angry, Max would sigh, rubbing his head and making sure to out on a grand show of looking tired and weary as he fed you some new lie about how you were the reason his girlfriends had called it quits.

You’d anxiously comfort him, your doe eyes worried as you studied his tense figure. Just like he’d hoped, you couldn’t resist offering to help him in any way he needed - including taking over any bedroom activities his girlfriends had been performing for him, if he wanted. You weren’t very good, because you still had never had a boyfriend…but you promised to try your best to do it just how Max liked it. After all, that’s what good friends were for, right?

So that’s why you obediently wake him up every morning with your lips on his heavy morning wood. All of his girlfriends woke him up like this, Max insisted, otherwise his balls would be too full for him to go to driving practise comfortably. And since he loved to sleep in late ever day, you had no choice but to miss your morning lectures. Instead of getting the college education you’d promised your parents, you’re worshipping your best friend’s large cock with eager strokes of your hand and wet licks of your tongue, following his instructions. You hadn’t liked going near the base, to his heavy balls at the start, finding them uncomfortable to fit in your small mouth. Max had noticed your dislike for then very quickly and soon kept a strong grip on your curls, pressing your thick lips into his morning wood to make sure you blew him just how he wanted it.

After your daily breakfast of Max’s thick cream down your throat, you two would shower together, just like he liked doing with all his ex girlfriends. This part you did know about, having come home early one day and overhearing Max fucking his latest up against the shower wall. You’d never imagine that one day you’d be getting to replace her, gasping out ah ah ahs! as Max rubbed his drooling, angry cockhead against your slick folds. You bite your lip as you dirtily fantasise about your tall, muscular best friend behind you forcing his way into your cunny. Just a little bit, of course, maybe just the tip, you dreamily thought.

Max had always been good at knowing what you wanted without you asking, given how long he'd known you. So he gives you exactly what you'd been naughtily thinking about, "accidentally" sliding his impossibly hard head into your dripping folds when he reached forward to adjust the already perfect water temperature. You squeal in shock, quickly trying to turn around and see what he was doing, but you're no match for his strength. Max's strong hands pin your thick hips in place as his much taller frame presses into you from behind, his lips brushing your ear to whisper dirty things and making your brain go foggy. Hearing your beloved Maxie huskily groan that your ass felt amazing, like it was built to take my cock, bunny made your heart beat rapidly in excitement. You didn't even notice that he'd bullied a good third of his massive erection into your clenching pussy, or when he came with a desperate groan, his face buried in your neck from behind. The warm shower water mixed with his creamy release and leaving you none the wiser about what he'd just pumped inside your virgin hole.

And little, naive you had no idea just how many times your possessive best friend had exposed your defenceless body to his thick cream. The twisted idea of training your holes to always welcome his, and only his cum, filled Max’s head with dark pleasure. He wanted to leave you begging and desperate for his release, even though you would have no idea just how or why you’d ended up developing such a craving for it. That was why he always made sure to touch and play with your over sensitive body, especially your cute, swollen clit and pretty nipples. Both because he loved feeling you up like you belonged to him, and because when he’d inevitably spurt his cum through your drooling, open mouth as you softly snore against his pillows. Your sleepy brain began to subconsciously associate the unfamiliar taste with delicious, tingly pleasure.

And if you’d make him mad when you spent too long talking to one of the other guys in his garage, instead of diligently at his side, he took his training of you to the next level. That meant cumming all over a batch of freshly baked and frosted white chocolate and rasberry cupcakes - your favourite! You always clapped your manicured hands in excitement when Max would pick up a box for you. They taste so good, you moaned as you eagerly dug into a second one, licking the white sticky frosting messily off your fingers. Even better than I remember!

The blonde Dutchman who’s eyeing you with a pleased smirk couldn’t stop the growing desire in his belly at the sight of you taking so much pleasure at eating his cum. So once he started this dirty habit of feeding you his release, he didn’t stop there - he was never one for half measures. He’d only have to close his eyes and picture your sleeping body, thin camisole mentally pulled up by his wandering hands to reveal your large tits. It’s a sight he’s been getting to enjoy almost nightly now, but it hasn’t stopped getting any less tempting. He easily spurts a generous load in a container of your favourite flavours of creamy vanilla ice cream. Slipping the box back into the freezer, he smirks to himself at the thought of getting to enjoy the sight of you licking it up off a spoon after dinner.

You've always had a major sweet tooth, and now that Max has started mixing his cum into your beloved desserts and sugary treats, you begin to associate his heady taste even more with raw desire. You start getting the same pleasurable high from deepthroating him as you do sucking on a strawberry lollipop. And your best friend just can't get enough of how addicted you've become to having his intoxicating, thick cum flood your mouth. So much so that you’re eager to fall to your knees to greet Max when you come home from class, obediently sucking his impressive cock as you show off your topless figure. And when you can tell he’s close, from how his handsome face is all flushed and he’s biting his pretty lips and murmuring fuck, schatje, it’s so fucking good, just like that-

You open your glossy lips wide, pink tongue poking out and brown doe eyes batting up at the huge cock in front of you adoringly. The sight of you so innocent yet desperate for him never fails to make Max cum, and with a few rapid pumps he finishes with a groan. His drooling, swollen cockhead is aimed right at your eagerly awaiting mouth, and soon his excessive load covers your tongue and drools past the corner of your lips as you struggle to contain it all in your small mouth. Splatters of white semen land on your chubby cheeks and drip down to your plush, caramel tits as well.

Just the taste of it has your eyes rolling and breath hitching, the months of subconscious training having done the job of making you addicted to Max’s cock very well. You swallow it all like the good girl you are, not letting any of his cum go to waste. And when you drop your mouth open again invitingly, shyly saying look Maxie, I drank it all as you display your now clean tongue - well, how is he meant to resist stuffing your tight little cunt next?

—————————————————————————

A/N: CANNOT BELIEVE OUR MANS WON BRAZIL WHAT AN ACHIEVEMENT FOR THE LATINA FANS ya’ll manifested the FUCK out of this. I have heard you all with your celebration sex requests and I am HERE for it stay tuned!!! 🧙‍♀️🧙‍♀️

[sanarsi]

One of your girls

post-outbreak!Joel Miller x virgin!f!Reader

Summary: Joel was known for treating women well in bed. That's why, on your eighteenth birthday, you decided to give him your virginity. Warnings: +18, MDNI, age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 56), Jackson!Joel, taking of virginity, soft!dom!Joel, unprotected PIV sex, interrupted sex, pussy eating, fingering, pet names Wordcount: 5k An: Quick smut because I would DIE to be one of his girls. Joel Miller save my soul. Amen. Anyway, happy ovulation days to me and everyone. Born a slut, die a slut. Music I worked with: One Of The Girls - The Weeknd, JENNIE, Lily-Rose Depp

Masterlist

You really didn't know how it all happened.

A moment ago you were standing in your room, grimacing at your reflection in the mirror, and now you were standing in front of the door to Mr. Miller's house.

How is that even possible?

How on earth did you even leave the house wearing this?

Like some kind of slut.

Why did you even think he might like this?

And the more important question is, for what sake you did put on lace underwear?

You blinked a few times, realizing that you had already knocked on his door. Shit.

Your breathing quickened as you finally realized what was happening. You began to mentally curse yourself for your stupid decisions.

Well... when you thought about it yesterday, it didn't seem so stupid. But hearing his heavy footsteps outside the door made you doubt everything that had ever crossed your mind.

What were you doing actually?

You didn't need it to live.

You didn't have to be like your friends.

And yet… you wanted to see what it was like. What it's like to make love to someone.

And as fate would have it, Joel was the perfect candidate to take your virginity.

At least that's what your friends said.

If it weren't for them, you wouldn't be here now. If it weren't for them, you wouldn't know what Joel is like. If it weren't for them, you wouldn't want to experience the same thing.

You wanted to be one of his girls.

The door slowly opened and Mr. Miller stood in the doorway, wiping his hands on a cloth. Suddenly all the thoughts in your head disappeared just like the oxygen in your lungs.

"What's up, little one?" he spoke first. You blinked a few times, realizing that you probably looked like an idiot watching him with those shiny eyes.

"Mr. Miller, hello," you greeted politely. He raised an eyebrow with a small smile and slung the cloth over his shoulder.

“Yeah, hi,” he snorted softly. You felt yourself getting hot. Wonderful start.

"I was just thinking... are you busy right now?" you asked, polite as always. As always, well-mannered.

Joel frowned in thought before glancing over his shoulder into the house. “Uh…” he sighed, hesitating for a moment before looking back at you. “Do you have some urgent matter?”

"Well..." you stuttered and cleared your throat. "No," you said truthfully. "But I wanted to ask for your help... with a certain... delicate matter."

Joel watched you carefully as if he was looking for some hidden intentions in you. You looked like always. Well, maybe apart from a slight shyness. But that was probably the issue of the matter you came to him with. And who would Joel be if he refused a poor girl who needed his help.

"Yeah, okay," he nodded and let you through the door. You automatically moved towards the living room, where you had already been a few times because of Ellie.

Joel closed the door with a quiet sigh and after a moment his heavy footsteps bounced off the walls. You sat on the sofa, staring at the empty coffee cup on the table. Your heart echoed in your ears, drowning out any thoughts. You couldn't even decide with yourself what you should do next. You got to his house, what now? How were you supposed to tell him why you came to him? How were you supposed to ask?

Mr. Miller, I've heard from my friends that you're eager to introduce them to the world of adulthood. I wanted to ask if you'd like to take my virginity too?

No fuckin’ kidding...

"Okay, so what's the deal?" he asked, sitting down in the chair next to you with a quiet groan. You moved restlessly, unnaturally straight as a rod. Joel saw that you were stressed so he didn't even comment on your prolonged silence. You tried to put together a sentence in your head. But your mind was blank. All you could focus on now was your pounding heart and the small smudge of grease on his temple.

Did he always look this good?

“Today is my eighteenth birthday,” you announced without thinking. As if that would shed any light on the matter you had come to him about. But Joel didn't seem too concerned about your strange behavior.

"Happy birthday," he replied indifferently.

“Thanks,” you nodded and fell silent again. You looked down at your intertwined fingers that you were playing with. Joel continued to watch you carefully, waiting for you to speak. Ellie had taught him an exceptional amount of patience in situations like this. And already used to the strange behavior of girls your age.

"What about your birthday?" he said as the silence stretched on. You looked up at him like a lost deer. You opened your mouth to say something but ended up tightening it into a line. You laughed, looking down anxiously.

Fuck. How were you supposed to tell him that?

"You know what?" You looked at him with a smile. "Actually, never mind." You stood up from the couch. "I'm sorry for-"

"Sit back down," he interrupted you sharply.

You sat up immediately.

You blinked slowly a few times as you stared at each other. Joel was completely relaxed, but you, you looked like you were sitting on nails.

"Why did you come to me?" he asked, settling more comfortably in the armchair. Your stomach clenched to the point where you felt bile rise in your throat. Your own stupidity had brought you to this point, even though you wanted to blame someone else. Even the weather. Maybe you had been out in the sun too long? Yes, that was definitely it. “Speak,” he said more sharply.

“I…” you trailed off, feeling your breath start to shake as did your hands. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… The girls said-“

“What girls?” he interrupted you again. You froze, mouth agape, looking at him as if you didn’t understand anything. So he raised his eyebrows and repeated it slower and calmer. “What girls?”

“Leyla and-“ you stopped to swallow the lump in your throat. “Nadia-“ you wanted to continue but he interrupted you again.

“And what did they tell you?”

He was calm.

Too calm.

That immediately lit up a light bulb in your head. He knew. You looked at him with wide eyes, feeling the cold sweat running down your back.

“Mr. Miller, I’m sorry. I have no idea what I was thinking coming here.” Panicked, you stood up and walked around the couch to leave. Or at least you wanted to, before his hand gripped your wrist, stopping you in your chair. You looked at him, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was still staring at the spot you had been sitting. You had a problem…

“Sit down,” he ordered. “We’ll talk.”

But you didn't move. You stood there, staring down at him. His gray hair, the wrinkles on his face, the sharp gaze.

He was old.

What were you even thinking, coming to fuckin’ grandpa with such a matter? Stupid.

"I don't know if I want to," you said, under the influence of momentary courage. A smile appeared on Joel's lips. And after a moment, his snort echoed around the room. You shivered.

"Yeah, I know," he nodded, and his gaze slowly shifted to you. You locked eyes and you felt your stomach tighten uncomfortably. "After all, you came here for something other than talking."

You gasped for air looking at him like he was a ghost. Your face burned with living fire as he looked at you with such damn confidence.

Oh man, what have you gotten yourself into?

"Mr. Miller-"

"Joel's enough" he interrupted you slightly, tightening his fingers on your wrist. You stuttered with your lips parted, unable to tear your gaze away from him.

You were definitely more innocent than the previous girls who ended up in his bed. At least, they were sure of what they wanted from him.

And he treated them much better than you.

Irony of fate.

Joel looked away, sighing heavily, afraid of his thoughts.

What kind of person was he?

Sometimes he was disgusted to look at himself in the mirror. But the compensation for his bad deeds was the sight of bliss on the girls' faces.

So was he really a bad man?

Maybe.

“Come ‘ere,” he said softly and pulled you towards him. You didn’t resist as he pulled you onto his lap. His hand went around your hip and the other rested on the armrest. He seemed completely relaxed while you were going through another breakdown. Joel watched your delicate face in silence. As if he was assessing what type of girl you were.

You felt naked just by his gaze. So damn intense gaze...

"Why did you come to me?" he asked again, this time gently. You blinked a few times, wondering what to answer. You shifted restlessly on his thigh, making him tighten his fingers slightly on your hip.

"They said you were gentle," you said quietly. So shy. "That you'd be perfect for me for the first time," you added, looking down at your joined hands. Joel watched carefully as your lips tightened into a thin line. A quiet snort escaped his chest, catching your attention.

"They told you that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement. You nodded uncertainly. "Oh, baby, they lied to you." He smiled gently, seeing a sign of fear flash through your eyes. But it was too late for him to let you walk out his door. "I wasn't gentle with them," he began to explain, which only scared you even more.

What the hell did you do?

Did you really believe girls who were famous for their slutty nature?

Not a very good plan.

“But I can be gentle with you, if you want,” he added encouragingly. Your breathing had long since accelerated to its limits. You looked at him with lost eyes, and honestly? That turned him on more than those confident girls. Seeing no reaction from you, he placed his hand on your thigh, starting to gently stroke it. “You want me to?”

You shivered at his gentle touch. You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded almost imperceptibly.

“I would like that.”

Joel tightened his fingers on your thigh and took a deep breath. Sometimes he wondered what he had done to deserve women coming to him for sex. Not that it bothered him. He just wanted to know if he was called a whore or a good lover. But at moments like this, he hardly cared about anything at all.

"Have you done anything yet?" he asked, beginning to stroke your hip and waist. He had to know a few things before he went any further. He had to know how to take care of you.

You didn't answer for a long moment.

"Kissing? Touching yourself?" he clarified the question. You shifted uncomfortably and denied it, looking away in embarrassment. "That's okay," he reassured you with a tender smile. “Don’t need to be ashamed, baby girl.” You looked up at him, hearing the pet name.

Something in your chest tightened at the sound of him speaking to you in such a tender and gentle way. He immediately noticed the sparkle in your eyes.

"You like it?" he asked, raising his eyebrows with a smile. For a moment you felt ashamed because honestly? You liked it. After a moment, however, the shame turned into amusement.

You came to ask him for sex.

What could be more embarrassing than this.

You pressed your lips into a line and nodded. Joel laughed tenderly and he already knew what you needed from him. You were the type who needed tenderness. You wanted him to make love to you.

Not sex.

Love.

“Okay baby girl, I got you,��� he assured you and with a soft groan he grabbed your thigh and pulled you to straddle him. You cooperated with him without protest. His thighs were hard. Muscled. As was his chest that you rested your hands on. He was masculine. And his age didn't match how good he looked. You didn't even know what was causing your wet panties anymore.

His look.

His voice.

His touch.

Or maybe the fact that he was so close.

"First, a quick educational talk," he announced, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you close enough so that your crotches touched. Your breath shuddered. "Are you aware of the possible consequences of unprotected sex?"

"I've heard that-"

"No, interrupted sex is not a form of protection," he interrupted you, knowing full well what rumors could be going around among young, inexperienced people who'd managed to avoid pregnancy once or twice.

"Oh..." slipped out of your mind.

"True, it reduces the risk but it doesn't give any certainty. It’s just bullshit," he explained carefully. You shifted uncomfortably, causing your crotch to rub against his.

Bad move.

You pressed your lips into a line, not wanting to make a sound and nodded at his words.

"I won't cum inside you” he emphasized that you would have confidence in what was to come.

"Okay," you said quietly. Joel must have seen that you were aware of what he was saying to you. Only then did he continue.

"When did you have your period?" he asked directly. You cleared your throat uncertainly.

"I should have it in a few days." He was silent for a moment, struggling with his thoughts. There couldn't have been a better opportunity.

"Fine. We won't have to live in uncertainty for long," he said it more to himself than to you, but you nodded anyway.

Risking becoming a father at his age was no small feat. But he couldn't help himself. Not when a girl like you was sitting on his lap.

"This is going to hurt," he noted, grimacing. "Only at first, and I'll try to make it as painless as possible."

You knew this, so you nodded more eagerly. Joel fell silent again for a moment, looking at you. You hadn't been destroyed by life yet.

And it was to him that you had decided to come, to start your downfall.

He closed his eyes, sighing heavily. "Okay, I guess that's it," he said, looking at you with that tired look of his. You felt a surge of excitement when he said that.

"Oh one more thing. Just in case" he said as if it suddenly dawned on him. "Your sexual partner is always supposed to take care of you first. If he doesn't, don't give yourself to him" he said confidently and your pulse echoed against your clit.

Oh, you didn't expect that reaction. Something about his confidence had such an effect on you.

"So..." you began uncertainly.

"So now I’m gonna eat you out" he replied confidently, hugged you tightly with one arm and then stood up from the chair. You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist as he tossed you slightly to adjust you in his arms.

You clung to his body, cuddling up to him and rested your forehead against his temple to watch what he was doing. And he calmly walked towards his bedroom. Not rushing. Letting you feel the anticipation of what he was about to do to you in your bones.

You looked around his room out of the corner of your eye. Bed, nightstand, wardrobe. Nothing more. You could have expected that. The only thing that wasn't his style was the curtain on the window, gently waving in the summer breeze.

Joel closed the door and walked over to the bed, slowly placing you on it. You supported yourself with your hands, watching as he slowly knelt down by the bed and began to undo the laces of your sneakers.

"I want you to tell me if something hurts you, you feel uncomfortable or you don't like something," he said, taking off each shoe and sock one by one. He looked up at you when he didn't get an answer. "It's important."

You nodded immediately. Only then, Joel start unbuttoning your pants. You watched as his fingers gently loosened the button and the zipper. Without a word, you lifted your hips so he could slide them off you. He looked at your panties with a moment's delay and stopped his movements. He fell silent, staring at your underwear so intensely that you clenched your thighs.

"I didn't know I'd ever see lace on someone again," he commented, slightly unnerved. “That’s nice” he added before he pulled your pants down the rest of the way. A small smile appeared on your lips.

He liked it.

His hands slid up your thighs. His rough touch on your soft skin was something completely new. You liked it. And you weren't the only one. Your pussy responded to his touch, soaking your panties. Oh.

His fingers grabbed your shirt which he began to pull off of you. He slowly revealed every inch of your body until the shirt landed next to your pants. This time his gaze stopped at your breasts. His gaze set your skin on fire.

"Damn baby, you look amazing" he said in delight taking in your whole body with his lustful gaze. “What an old man like me do to deserve this,” he muttered to himself as he stood up with a quiet gasp. He sighed heavily, looking down at you. Big eyes looked at him with sparks of excitement. Lips slightly parted by the heat. And a beautiful body dressed in white lace. “Beautiful view.”

He leaned towards you, cupping your chin between his fingers. You closed your eyes as his lips softly crashed against yours. And he froze allowing you to experience a new feeling. His cold lips and rough beard. You relaxed a bit, which he immediately sensed. And then he started kissing you.

He slowly led you and taught you to respond to his kisses. Until you started to respond more confidently. Then he added his tongue.

He crept into your mouth, colliding with your timid movements. But it didn't last long. Everything about him encouraged you to match him as soon as possible. So after a while you were pushing yourself towards him, hungry for more. But he just pulled away with a smirk.

“Lie down,” he ordered, which you immediately did. His gaze swept over your body again and a silent curse escaped his lips. He gently lifted your leg and began to place a trail of kisses along it. His kisses left wet trails behind when he finally knelt down. You stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily. You clenched your fists in the sheets as his beard began to tease your inner thigh. He couldn't even stop himself from gently grazing your skin with his teeth. You felt it between your thighs like a lightning bolt. Joel smiled as he saw how sensitive your body was to his slightest touch.

You felt his hot breath perfectly above your pussy. You held your breath, tensing in anticipation. And then he placed a delicate wet kiss on your panties. You almost sighed, but then he kissed you with his tongue. Perfectly on your clit.

You moaned, feeling all the blood flowing to the place he had been a moment ago. You didn't have time to shake off the surge of pleasure because his fingers were already pulling your panties down. Until they landed somewhere on the floor. You gasped for air as he got a perfect view of your wet pussy. Embarrassing how much you leaked when he hadn't even started with you.

"Well, hello there" he said with a smile and placed his hands on your hips, hiding between your thighs. "You're so pretty." His warm breath fanned your wet entrance. You clenched, holding back a moan. "Can I say hi to her?" he asked, glancing up. Your breasts were heaving quickly, thirsting for oxygen. You swallowed hard and barely managed a quiet 'yes'.

You didn't have to tell him twice for his lips to place a soft kiss on your clit. You shivered. And he didn't wait long before he ran his tongue over your wet slit. You moaned, throwing your head back as he slowly began to lick up all the wetness that had already leaked out of you.

You began to pant heavily, gripping the sheets as if you were about to make holes. Joel held your hips rigidly and ate you like his favorite dessert.

“Such a sweet little pussy,” he murmured appreciatively before his tongue began to work on your clit. That’s when you saw stars. A moan caught in your throat at the feeling of Joel literally making out with your pussy. Oh he was hungry for a sweet treat like you.

Wet sounds filled the room as did your moans. Uncontrollably, you tightened your thighs around his head, making it clear to him that you were close.

His hands slowly moved from your hips to your stomach and up. His fingers slid under your bra and after a moment his warm hands squeezed your breasts. You arched your back starting to chase your orgasm as his hands caressed your tits. You started to move your hips to meet his tongue wanting to set the pace yourself. But Joel sucked on your clit like he was thirsty so your movements were in vain.

You moaned loudly when he started to move his tongue in circles.

"Yes, yes..." you cried feeling like you were a fraction of a second away from fulfillment. Then he pulled away and ran his tongue along the entire length of your slit. You came with a loud moan and a shiver of pleasure spread through your whole body. Joel teased your swollen clit with his tongue for a moment until the last waves of pleasure passed you and you fell helplessly onto the mattress panting heavily.

His lips placed one last kiss on your thigh before he pulled away and stood up. You opened your eyes, feeling a sudden chill from his absence. You propped yourself up on your elbows, meeting his gaze immediately as he slowly took off his clothes. And despite his age, he had no problem getting his dick hard for you.

Your gaze was fixed on his cock, wondering if it would actually go inside you. You understood why it might hurt.

You swallowed hard at the sight of his hand sliding along his length. His cock hardened even more at the thought of you tightening around him. He slowly walked closer, climbing onto the bed and towering over you. His lips found yours. The sweet kiss quickly turned into something deeper. His hands slowly began to slide down your body. His tongue distracted you enough that it wasn't until he inserted two fingers into you that you moaned into his mouth.

Joel hummed in satisfaction as he slowly began to stretch your hole. You clenched your hands on his shoulders, trying to focus on returning his kisses, but then he made a magical movement with his fingers that almost made you squeal. He laughed tenderly, drinking everything from your lips.

"Oh I think I found the sweet spot," he smiled against your lips before repeating the same movement a few more times, leaving you breathless. Seeing you like this stroked his ego. You were melting under his touch in a sexy as hell way, and if he could, he would spend all day fucking you in every way possible. But he was fucking fifty-six years old and he really didn't want to be a father. What a shame…

His fingers disappeared the moment you relaxed enough so his entrance wouldn't hurt. You looked at him with a misty gaze as he positioned his tip at your entrance.

"I'll go in baby. Nice and slow" he assured you to which you only mumbled under your breath closing your eyes and tilting your head back. It looked like a nod so he looked down slowly sinking his cock into your pussy. Your breath caught in your throat at the slow feeling of being filled. Joel gasped at how tight you were around him. "Relax baby. I need to go all the way in" he said in a hoarse voice. You shivered taking a deep breath and winced at the feeling of him slowly pushing even deeper into you. "That's right, doin’ really good for me. Just a few more inches" he praised you and groaned when his hips finally hit yours. You whimpered feeling tears in your eyes because, damn, it hurt more than a little.

Joel panted heavily for a moment before he finally noticed your condition. He stroked your cheek gently and used his thumb to wipe away the single tear that had managed to escape. His lips slowly began to place kisses along your jaw and neck to help you relax a bit.

“Shhh, you’re okay baby girl. The worst is over” he whispered in your ear and shivers spread through your body. He immediately felt it on his cock that you clenched around. He groaned throatily closing his eyes for a moment because he felt like he was in a cage.

A wet and tight cage.

“I need to move,” he whispered, his voice like he had run a marathon. You began to breathe faster, looking at him with teary eyes. “I know it hurts, but I need to stretch you.”

His lips were on yours in a second, kissing you hard before he slowly withdrew his hips. You moaned into his mouth but he didn't let you break the kiss. He pressed so hard that you had to, or at least tried to focus on it. And then he entered again. You dug your nails into his shoulders, wanting to show him that it hurt.

"I know, baby, I know," he whispered against your lips, making another move. With each subsequent kiss and each subsequent thrust of his hips, it was easier for you. Until finally the pained expression on your face disappeared and your groans were replaced by quiet moans. And then Joel felt your slit accept him with less resistance.

"Just like that," he groaned throatily as he entered you smoothly. His hand slid down your waist to your thigh. He tightened his fingers on your skin and guided you to wrap your legs around his waist. Then he pushed deeper into you, his breath shaking. You gasped as your legs trembled. But not because of how deep he was. Because of how skillfully he moved inside you, brushing against everything he should. He slowly pumped his hips, each time teasing your sensitive spot which slowly built up an orgasm inside you.

But you were missing something. A stimulus that would break the previous discomfort.

"Joel-" you gasped.

"Yeah?" he murmured, running his hand over your thigh, his gaze fixed on how his cock disappeared inside you over and over again. You shivered, clenching around him.

"I need more," you said weakly. Joel immediately looked up at you. After a moment, a smirk appeared on his face.

"Oh, what a greedy girl," he smacked his lips, shaking his head.

But after a moment, you felt an additional stimulus. You moaned, arching your back as his finger began to draw slow circles on your clit. The air caught in your throat as you tried to handle the sudden surge of pleasure.

“Satisfied?” he asked, feeling you slowly start to tighten around his cock more and more.

“Fuck yes,” you gasped, throwing your head back as your hips began to burn.

“Such dirty words from such pretty mouth,” he teased with a smirk of satisfaction that he had brought you to a state where your shyness had disappeared.

He bent down, starting to place wet kisses on your neck. You tangled your fingers in his hair, feeling all your muscles tense up in anticipation of fulfillment. His cock slowly moving inside you, his finger on your clit, and suddenly his teeth in your skin. A deadly combination that made your eyes roll inside out as you came.

“Yes, baby, show me how good it feels,” he murmured against your ear, panting heavily through each squeeze of your pussy. You shuddered, moaning as he prolonged your orgasm as long as he could.

You finally started to shudder from the overstimulation so he took his hands away and tightened them on your hips. You looked at him with tired eyes as he slowly straightened up.

“My turn, princess,” he said, digging his fingers into your skin to hold you in place.

And then he started thrusting. Hard. And fast. You gasped and grabbed his wrists as an uncontrollable cry tore from your throat. Joel watched as you took him nicely. All of him.

He was focused, clenching his jaw tightly. Your moans interrupted by his growl filled the room. You clenched against him from overstimulation and your nails dug into his wrists. But he was too busy thrusting into your tight cunt. Finally, a long moan escaped his lips as he tilted his head back.

"Oh yes, baby," he groaned in pleasure, continuing to thrust into you. You looked at him, feeling everything inside you tighten at the sight. And then his eyes met yours.

And you knew you were fucking lost.

He pulled out of you in a quick movement and grabbed his cock, rubbing it between your wet slit. You moaned squeaky as he massaged your clit with his cock. He made only a few movements before a loud growl escaped his throat and after a moment you felt hot cum on your stomach. You tried to calm your breathing as you watched Joel concentrate on squeezing every drop out of him. He sighed loudly and glanced at you before he slammed his cock into your pussy. You whimpered and he chuckled under his breath.

“Happy birthday.”

[michaelmilkers]

literally on my fucking knees begging and pleading for cis allies to stop saying things like “no trans kid is getting surgery” “no trans kids are transitioning” “trans kids just take reversible puberty blockers until they’re older” because these statements are not only demonstrably false, therefore giving transphobes an open window to completely debunk your argument and boost their own (”if it’s not happening why do you care if it’s made illegal?”), but you are not helping us or protecting us and our rights. you are hurting us.

i started hormones when i was 14 because psychological and reversible medical treatment did not ease my dysphoria enough to improve my quality of life! me, my family, and my doctor(s) decided that hormones would be the best next step to help me, so that’s what we did! trans kids DO take hormones, and they DO occasionally get surgery, and that is COMPLETELY FINE!! because preventing a family from accessing what they and care providers decide is the best healthcare for a child is CRUEL AND UNETHICAL.

multiple studies show trans people who are forced to wait until late adolescence or adulthood to medically transition have worse mental health than both their immediate peers and continuing on into adulthood.

if i hadn’t started HRT when i did i would have flunked out of school or killed myself before i turned 18. trans kids have a right to access best practice medical care, whatever that may be for them.