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mermaidgirl30 · 10 months ago

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✨Dark Shades of Innocence Lost✨

A/N: I played with a concept of a wip I’ve been wanting to do for a while, so here is a tease if anyone is interested. Club owner! Joel. That is it. Pure smut. Might turn this into a small series or a one shot. We’ll see where it goes.

Summary: Joel finally gets his hands on you for the first time, and he wants you to ride his thigh in the middle of his crowded, dark club 😳

Pairings: Joel x fem! reader

Word Count: 700

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY MDNI)

Tags: Smut, dirty talk, thigh riding, light choking, dom! Joel, club owner!Joel, no outbreak

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The blaring music thundered against the back of the dark wall as your back was pressed up against the thin layer of wallpaper. You barely noticed the noise over your own stifled moans and increased heart palpitations. But also the brooding, dominant man that you were pressed up against. And those dark syrupy eyes that were sinking deep into yours as his hands pressed deeper into your hips, edging you on further.

“That’s it, darlin’. Mmmm just like that. There ya go,” he groaned as you sank deeper into the crease of his dark jeans, putting even more pressure on your center as you rode his thigh nice and slow. The material caught your bundle of nerves as the denim dragged over just the right area of your throbbing clit.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned as you felt a wave of slick cover his thigh, feeling your orgasm build and build until you were right on the edge. You were almost there, almost. The ringing in your ears and built up tension in your spine signaled you were about to let go.

“Come on now, sweetheart. Look s’good ridin’ my thigh. Can feel how wet you are. Now be a good girl and let me see you ruin these jeans,” he purred as he nipped at your neck, sinking his lips down on your collarbone as you moaned in response.

You shifted against him and felt your clit drag and snag over the denim, feeling just how drenched he made you. The room was hot, the scent of sex and whiskey lingering in the air as they intertwined together, eliciting another moan out of you as you nipped at the salt and pepper scruff that ran against his jawline.

“Cum for me, let me hear that pretty voice moan my name,” he coaxed as he licked at the shell of your ear, making your breath get choked as you continued riding faster, harder, pressing your clit deeper into his muscled thigh.

He wrapped a hand gently over your throat and ghosted his lips over yours, biting at your lower lip and taking it in his mouth, releasing it slowly as it snapped back into place, leaving your lips puffy and needy for him. He left a trail of whiskey against your tastebuds as you breathed in his mahogany cologne, getting drunk off his taste and scent.

His blown out pupils stared intently into your eyes, making your cunt clench up against nothing, leaving you breathless and completely worked up as you rode him faster, deeper, entrancing another moan out of your mouth that came out choked and desperate.

He ran his tongue against his bottom lip, making him look completely carnal and devious as he smirked down at you with those dark pupils that hypnotized you into submission. “Be a good girl now. Let me hear that pretty moan. Go on,” he smirked as he lifted his thigh higher, brushing against your throbbing clit at just the right spot, feeling your senses melt away as you came undone around him.

“Joelllll,” you moaned, letting his name carrying around the dark room and mix in with the washed out sounds of music and bodies of couples dancing down on the crowded dance floor. Your jaw went slack as you kept your glazed over eyes on him and felt the white, hot sensations take over as white liquid shot out of you, covering his denim with your arousal as you felt your body go slack against the weight of him.

“Oh, that’s a good girl. That’s a good fuckin’ girl,” he growled as he wiped at his jeans and stuck his index and middle finger in his mouth, sucking slowly as his blown out pupils simmered into yours. “So fuckin’ good,” he smirked as he popped his fingers out of his mouth and stared down at you with full intention clear in his eyes. He was going to fuck you. Not right now, not here, but soon. This was only the first encounter, and he had an entire agenda up those rolled up sleeves of his that had your name written all over them.

Joel Miller was going to get you in so much trouble.

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hallowgracie · 1 month ago

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Origin of "Liberation of an Ex-Magical Girl"

Author's Note: The Liberation of an Ex-Magical Girl started as a short story opening assignment in my creative writing classes. Like the other creative writing projects that grew beyond their original parameters, the novella in the works is almost completely different from this original concept.

Still, I think it's been fun to share them, and these do establish some of the themes and ideas I intend to explore in the actual novella, and are ultimately the core of the project. I hope you enjoy this insight into the origins of one of my wips.

...

No one ever tells you what happens next, when you defeat the Big Evil. Everyone has opinions up to that point, and no problems telling you what they think you should be doing. But once the deed is done, the sword plunged through the heart and the world free of some meglomaniac in a cape? That’s when the quiet comes in.

It first came with her last breath, when she went still under the holy blade. My ears rang, and I couldn’t even hear my own heartbeat. It came with the end of spells ricocheting off of the lair’s walls, the breaking of glass and the crackling of fire. Even the screams in the city stopped, with the final wave of my wand.

Even he was quiet, I realized as I’d turned my back to what I’d done, to the broken skyscraper window over the city I’d saved. My knight in shining armor, my one true companion in this, the one who always had some terrible joke or witty passive-aggressive comment to keep us from really thinking about what we were doing—he was silent.

He just stood there like that, looking at me.

I looked down at myself—the mythic incarnation of evil or whatever didn’t leave any blood stains on my gloves or glittery magical girl gown. But I couldn’t shake the feeling, the illusion of it being there all the same.

I should have said something then. Some cheesy line, like we were in a kids’ cartoon or a Disney movie or my favorite manga.

“It’s done, it’s over. We did it, my love—let’s go home.”

But I was never the smooth-talker, the speech-giver. Unfortunately, he was. And even he was at a loss for words.

Well, I’d never been the protagonist-y type, and I wasn’t going to start then.

So I just kicked the ground and said, “I guess that’s it, then.��

Before he could say anything, I waved my wand. In a shower of pink petals and a tween girl’s idea of the best perfume, I was back in my own apartment.

And the quiet washed over me again, leaving me with only my own thoughts and that steady, faithful heartbeat.

The morning after I’d completed the mission I’d sacrificed my teen and tween years for, I decided to get a scrapbooking kit.

...

The decision was made at 4 AM, when I’d finally had enough. I knew then that I wasn’t going to get any sleep, and this couldn’t happen again. So I did the only thing I could—I got up and started my morning routine to bide my time until the craft store two stops from the apartment opened for the day.

I started with brewing a pot of extra-strong coffee. I made sure there was enough for my roommate—it would only be a few hours before Gwen would be up for her 8 AM class. Then it was time to hit the shower. I winced as I felt the hot water hit the parts of my body stained black and blue, hissing when it rushed over the cuts. I’d never gotten entirely used to it, after so many mornings of the same. I dabbled concealer over my under eye-bags and scar with all the artistry that eight years of practice provided.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom, Gwen was waiting for me.

“What are you doing up so early?” She demanded, a mug of pitch-black coffee in her hand.

“I’m taking the T down to the craft store.” I shrugged. “It opens at like, six, right?”

Her eyebrows shot into her bangs. “You’ve finally lost it. You’re crazy, you know that?”

“You’ve been saying that ever since I moved in.”

“Yeah, because you talk to yourself in squeaky voices, it’s demented,” she shot back.

I winced. “I didn’t know you could hear that.”

“Obviously.” She sipped her coffee. “How do you do that, by the way? That voice is super grating.”

I couldn’t help it—I snorted. I’d long thought that Dwija’s voice was annoying. Or at least, ever since I passed puberty.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged again. “It’s a talent, I guess.”

“It’s something,” Gwen muttered. “Well, wait for me, then.”

“Huh?” I adjusted a barrette in my hair, as it had been slowly sliding out over the course of our brief conversation.

“Well, I’m not letting you go out like this alone,” she huffed. “After all, what if you snap and lose it on the T?”

It was my turn for raised eyebrows. “Talking to myself in silly voices and morning crafting impulses does not a serial killer make.”

“Whatever, just stay there until I’m at least decent enough for the T.” Gwen waved her miraculously already-empty coffee cup at me.

“Okay.” I’d long learned not to fight my roommate on certain things.

It somehow surprised me to see the sun still rose when we left the underground station. First, because I didn’t realize it was already doing it this early again. But also because it felt too normal, after all that had happened the night before.

It shouldn’t have surprised me, that the world would go on turning like nothing ever happened. As far as anyone was concerned, nothing ever happened when it came to the magical girl. Lumina was a curiosity, a source of excitement, a local celebrity who rode on parade floats during St. Patrick’s Day. But everyone was careful to treat her as never truly real. That way, the threats she faced weren’t either.

Because that would mean opening your mind up to a host of phenomena beyond heaven or earth, or whatever it was that Hamlet said to Horatio.

Which leads me back to scrapbooking.

“I still don’t understand.” Gwen tilted her head as she followed me down the scrapbooking aisle. “What made you decide at four in the morning that you wanted to take up scrapbooking, of all things?”

I shrugged and filled my basket with scrapbook papers, stickers, and textured ribbons. “I just felt like doing something new.”

“But you’re always so busy!” She followed me to the end-cap, where discounted scrapbooks lay in a hastily-thrown together heap. “You never had time for anything but studying!”

I just scooped up a book and headed toward the cash register. “I’ve got some free time now. Might as well keep my mind occupied.”

It was better than facing the silence.

Yet it was in silence that the cashier scanned the items. It wasn’t until we were walking out of the craft shop that Gwen spoke again.

“You’re going out with me on Friday night.” There was no room for argument.

I still was going to try, until I was interrupted by the chime of my phone. Not the iPhone in my right pocket.

“Go on ahead, I have to take this.”

She gave me a funny look, but continued down underground, apparently satisfied that I was only partially out of my mind. I waited until she was gone. Then I removed from my left pocket the pink shell of a cellphone from a prior era.

It was a rounded device with bright buttons and glitter inlaid in the surface, the smaller screen like an obsidian mirror. It made chiming, musical noises that brought on a sense of nostalgia and alienness at the same time. I knew it wasn’t really a cellphone, but rather the gadget of the realm parallel our own, the main tool of Lumina.

Iridescent runes appeared across the black mirror screen.

My stomach sank. I knew the name, even if I’d never come to understand their language.

Altalune.

I knew what he wanted. A part of me wanted to reach out, to hear his voice again, because I wanted it too. But that would be a moment of weakness. One that I couldn’t afford, and I was now realizing I never would. I slipped it back in my pocket.

Sorry.

...

The possibilities of the evening stretched endlessly before me. I was twelve years old, the last time I had freedom like this. No responsibilities, no immediate homework, no need to remove the cellphone from my left pocket and transform into the champion of the Lost Realm, the imitation of a warrior princess of long ago.

Instead of high heels and a fluffy dress, it was booty shorts and flip-flops for me. My scrapbook lay open on the desktop, all my newfound supplies scattered around so I could see them. The sky was the limit, and my blood hummed at the idea of creating something.

It would be an awesome scrapbook, a work of art as an autobiography.

Now all I had to do was make it.

Well, to start it off, I’d need to ask Mom for the hospital photos and a picture of the old little house where the first formative years of my childhood were spent. Then there would be elementary school pictures from Field Day and pool parties and the Natural Science Museum field trips.

But what about after that?

There were less photographs of me at my parents’ house around middle school. Beyond a few sleepovers and vacations and every year’s school picture, there was little to have documented. I didn’t have time for clubs, or birthday parties. My friendships never lasted long, always cut off in fear of them discovering my secrets, getting too close.

It was around high school when only the yearbook photos were left, when I pushed my parents away too.

There were plenty of pictures of Lumina over the years.

But this wasn’t about her. Or at least, I didn’t want it to be. But she had taken over my life, I was realizing as I stared down the blank pages. She’d come into my life and stolen several years, and for what?

To avenge a kingdom I never knew? For the defeat of a primeval evil that still wouldn’t stop simple human greed and malice?

How much of my life have I wasted?

Before I could have my mental breakdown in peace, a light pierced the warm darkness of my room, scattering sparks of glitter all over the paper. As the light faded, the shape of a rounded cat-like creature floated over my desk.

I scowled and crossed my arms over my chest. “What do you want, Dwija?”

“Oh, don’t be like that!” I couldn’t help but wince as her high-pitched, tinny voice. “Dwija just wants to make sure you’re alright!”

I sighed. Getting mad at the little cat fey from the Lost Realm was like getting mad at a child. For all that she might be the reason I was in this mess, and how she’d conveniently left out a lot of things over the years, she was extremely sensitive. And she meant well. That still counted for something, even after all this time.

“I’m as okay as I can be.” I pulled out the cellphone. “Are you back here looking for this?”

Dwija blinked at me, her eyes as big and shiny as a new Beanie Baby’s. “Dwija meant what Dwija said all those years ago. You used to be Princess Lumina, back in the Lost Realm. It belongs to you, even after the mission is done.”

“Fine.” I tossed it onto my desk—I didn’t care if it broke now.

Dwija winced, even though it was fine. That thing had survived falling to the street at a height that would kill a person and then getting run over by a bus. A little tossing and throwing wasn’t going to be what did it in.

“You’re not okay, are you?”

“No shit, Sherlock.” I closed my eyes and forced myself to exhale. “Sorry. But really, what was your first clue?”

Dwija tilted her head. “Dwija didn’t mean to make you angry. Dwija thought you would be really happy now! Delmore is defeated and the evil from the Lost Realm has been destroyed, meaning she has no hold over this world anymore.”

“The Lost Realm is still destroyed,” I reminded her. “Or at least, that’s what you told me. And it’s not like I can remember being Princess Lumina anyway. So who cares?”

“But Delmore was affecting your realm, forcing men to do bad things!” Dwija’s voice inched up an octave. “Don’t you care about that? Don’t you care that she was going to destroy this realm too?”

My stomach squirmed. “I guess I do. You didn’t tell me it would only end with me killing her, though.”

“Dwija doesn’t think of it as killing a person,” Dwija said. “Delmore wasn’t really a person, she was the incarnation of all the evil in peoples’s hearts in the Lost Realm. She was never really alive and you shouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“That’s the thing.” I was surprised at how soft and hoarse my own voice was. “She was still a person, on some level. And I wanted to stop her—but I never wanted to kill her. I never would have agreed to it, if that was the end.”

“Then Dwija is glad that Dwija never explained it.” Dwija’s tail flicked. It started to swish, casting magenta glitter all over my desk. “You had to do it to save this world and many others. Dwija is sorry that no one from the Old World will be able to remember it. But you can still have lots of fun and adventures now!”

She shifted position midair and took on a less chiding tone. “Besides, Dwija would have thought that you would be looking forward to seeing Altalune now.”

#the liberation of an ex magical girl #writeblr #my writing #deconstruction fantasy #magical girls #magical girl stories #short stories #short story #wip concept

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