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#i am in physical pain but in the best way
luvrbunni · 5 months
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ik ive not been active at all anyways sort of explanation/me complaining in tags
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meateater-lamb · 22 days
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autisticlee · 30 days
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having some sort of chronic pain and tiredness issue and joint problems and whatnot but not knowing exactly what the problem is is really good at leading you feeling like you're faking it or making a big deal out of nothing or making it up. especially if there's a good day where it's not as bad and you can walk straight without limping for the first time in a year. but then you can wake up the next day and can barely walk and wonder why you can't just walk normal. it's hard to not guilt trip yourself into dealing with pain by trying to ignore it and force yourself to walk "normal" all the time
#chronic pain#chronic exhaustion#idk what else to tag#another day of why was lee walking normal and barely pain at work yesterday but then today so much pain and exhausted#wish i knew what was exactly the problem. was diagnosed with “generalized hypermobility” but doesnt do much#not a real diagnosis. basically just a thing to tell me “theres nothing wrong. exercise more” but how???? i keep trying but hurt myself#my job is physical labor and therefore exercise. it hurts. is exhausting. no energy to do more. walking is exhausting#have to focus so much energy on not popping hips out of place and twisting knees and ankles and falling. never hurts less#still think about how failed the heds test by 1 point but had several people with heds or who have close friends/family with it who told me#they think i have it and should go het diagnosed or just ask me if i have it because they recognize the symptoms#and every time i tell them the doctor i saw about my joint issues and stuff denied it they get super confused and tell me to try#another doctor. unfortunately i have to go through my designated health system and they dont have multiple doctors of each specialty#and i in general have no clue how to navigate health stuff or how to advocate for myself and have no help or support system at all so 🤷#anyway. it makes me wonder if i *do* have that or if my floppy bendy joints are just similarly bad and exercise will cure me#and im just bad at it because i have no clue what is right and wrong movement unless someone watches me and corrects me the whole time#and no i wont learn or get better. im so disconnected from this body that i will never learn what feels right and wrong.#still cant even tell when im hungry until i almost pass out!!!!!!! of thirsty!! or even have to pee until its emergency level piss!!!!!!#so no way to tell when hypermobiling joints when exercising or when form is slipping and not correct anymore.#been trying things to get better at that but still hasnt improved at all#what was i talking about......right. dont think ill ever get heds diagnosis since cant pass the test for that. so cant get much support/help#am on my own with youtube tutorials and hoping i dont keep hurting myself wishing exercise will cure me and “good days” become permanent#also why are video tutorials SO HARD TO FOLLOW AND LEARN FROM. im sk bad at it yet everyone tells me its the best and only way to learn but#its SO HARD FOR ME 😭😭😭😭😭 MAKES ME SO FRUSTRATED AND UPSET
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seventh-district · 2 months
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i’m not like other girls, my “Rest” stats are a heart rate of 110bpm and a HRV of 14 fucking milliseconds. :)
#Seven’s Public Diary#vent#vent post#cw vent#cw vent post#cw health#cw heart#i’m so stressed :) i am soooo fucking stressed and my body is Suffering because of it#i want to just lay here and stare at the ceiling but. maybe a little venting will help#sighhhh wish [N]MbD Sun were here to obsessively fret over me#he can be mean about it idc. at least i’d have someone acknowledging how bad things are for me#sometimes i wonder when the last time was that my body Wasn’t in fight or flight to some degree#have i Ever actually relaxed#hhhhhhh c-ptsd is a bitch#anyways there’s so much to vent about but i’m. doing my best to be vague. i need to be more vague about things#a lot of stuff i can’t vent about anyways. it’s too personal#so instead i’m gonna complain abt how i haven’t been able to play Genshin or Star Rail for nearly a month now#and about how slowly my back is recovering. it’s like every time i re-injure/have a flare up. it heals.. worse. slower and lesser#i dunno how it’s ever gonna get better. truly better. maybe i’ll live with this forever#if being fat is the problem which is definitely partly is. then yeah i’m fucked#all of my problems just make each other worse and i don’t know where the way out of it all is#every time i think i’ve found it i’m wrong and i just make it all worse#anyways as soon as i figure out how to strengthen my core without breaking my back. it’s over for u bitches#‘u bitches’ being uh. all of the shit that needs doing that i cannot physically fucking do right now#i miss being able to sit down. and i’m Regretting de-converting my standing desk back to sitting bc now. i cannot use my PC#which means i can’t fucking do a some of my work or play my silly little gacha games and i’m mad abt it#i’m mad abt a lot more serious things too but again. can’t talk abt it so i’m gonna focus on trivial shit instead#anyways. sorry as always to everyone i haven’t spoken with lately. and in general. i’m so drained from the Everything that i just. can’t.#it shouldn’t be this hard for me to stay in touch w ppl but. it is. guess i’ll add that onto my list of things to be stressed about#i’m so tired of everything man. and i hate being so negative and mean when im stressed & in pain. makes me feel like im becoming my father
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musical-chick-13 · 1 year
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Somebody tell me. That I can’t quit. And that I have an obligation. And that I made a promise. To do this. And that I can’t just. Not do it because I’m scared. Of public singing. Please tell me. I have to do it. Please.
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Emo night was a success!!! I love my family ❤️
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yellowhearther0 · 2 years
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grah
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If I’m offline for a little bit that is bc my dog is having some health issues
#u know ur online a little too much when u say hey guys don’t worry about me if I’m offline for a few days#he’s pretty old he’s going on 17 years this fall#he’s got some sort of old dog kidney disease#so if he gets better he’ll be better within a few days. and if not then he probably won’t#thankfully I am not in touch with my emotions ever so I can just take care of him without looming grief#which is good considering I was taking care of vet things with my mother and she was a mess. someone had to be put together I suppose#i mean. everyone’s pretty upset. but like. it’s my dog and somehow I’m the one who’s doing the best#i did my emotional control training in my youth I’m so good at it#i can make myself feel fine about anything with enough work. I’m trained#something something miserable when I was young so I have my own home remedy where I simply stop being sad#also. fun fact. if I make myself stop being upset the back of my throat really really hurts#like. u know how u feel when u get choked up? it’s similar to that but like. painful#but! physical pain is better than emotional pain and one pain medication exists for#this is not meant to be a post that makes u worry about me all things considered I’m doing quite well#also I think it’s really funny I’m out here like might go offline😔#like fundamentally my best emotional work is done online right here and it’s probably gonna continue that way#I’m not a person who can just. go offline. i so deeply have to be like omg here is what is new#soup talks
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bjurnberg · 5 months
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My work boots are the most expensive shoes I’ve ever owned.
Also the most comfortable. I chose them after trying on several different brands and comparing lifespan vs usage vs comfort - I needed them for a physically demanding job, not the weekend hiking trails. I could have easily chosen cheaper boots that would have lasted long enough to be worth their low price, but I know the Sam Vimes Boot Theory and knew weaker, less comfortable boots would make my life harder in the long run.
So when the outside edge of the heel started wearing down after three years of heavy use I went to the shop I got them from and said “hey this is a common problem for me with how I walk but now it’s affecting my ankles and knees and I don’t wanna have to buy a new pair, is there a way to fix this?”
The salesman at this very fancy upscale boot store said “oh yeah, there’s a shoe repair place that can give you some heel guards - it’ll keep the rubber from wearing out.”
So at 8am this morning right after my 9hr shift ends I went to the shoe repair shop and it is the most hole-in-the-wall, is-this-a-real-business-or-a-mafia-front, am-I-gonna-get-shot tiny cinder block cube I’ve ever seen in my life. I grew up plenty poor and love me a good hole-in-the-wall business, but going from upscale store to this cash-only repair shop gave me whiplash. Wasn’t expecting this when a guy who wears three piece suits to sell boots said it’s the best place to go.
The skinny kid behind the counter looks somehow 16 and 25 at the same time, but when I tell him this place was recommended he smiles and says to hand over my boots. I hand him the vaguely warm foot-smelling boots, and stand in my socks in the 3’ square entryway surrounded by every color leather polish you could buy and watch as he turns my boots around in his hands, sizes up a crescent moon bits of plastic, and unceremoniously hammers tiny nails through them before handing them back.
The heels are perfectly level again. I can walk without almost rolling my ankles. They don’t clack loudly on the pavement or feel different. This is gonna fix my knee pain. It cost $10.
This kid had every tool he needed within arms reach, worked fast and smoothly, I was in and out the door in less than 8 minutes, and it only cost $10.
I didn’t think anything could cost only $10 anymore. I’m so used to hyperinflation prices I was spiritually thrown back to the 1400’s visiting the cobbler in town square. This kid might have been that cobbler and just decided to never die.
I’m still reeling from the whiplash, and gobsmacked at the price, and thrilled I didn’t have to go buy new, worse work boots (cuz I don’t have that kind of money for a second pair, I’m expecting these ones to last a decade) and it feels like I just experienced one of the rare little chunks of magic that floats around our world.
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nexus-nebulae · 3 months
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damn i actually had a pretty good streak there of not having bad insomnia days. that's pretty impressive for me like i haven't really had one since early January
#usually i get them like. maybe once a week#i think it's partially my new meds?#got some meds for anxiety and oh my GOD i finally have something that WORKS instead of fucking lexapro AGAIN#literally all my doctors would go LEXAPRO!! even though it's never fuckin worked for me#BUT I'm on remeron now and it's WORKING#and i made sure to make my Scheduled Pill Time as something i could almost never miss (my mom getting home from work)#bc it's around the same time every day within a half hour range and since i have an outside reminder it helps me actually form a habit#i cannot form habits without outside help it's just. nearly impossible for me#and the meds do make me kind of tired but not enough that I'm fucking constantly sleeping like when i was on seroquel#i can actually fucking THINK through this tired it doesn't just completely take me out 100% of the time#I'm just Slightly Sleepy instead of a zombie#and it helps remind me that I'm tired bc usually i don't notice any physical feelings#(is there a word for that??????? i tried googling but it constantly gave me alexythemia which is not feeling EMOTION)#(when this is like. i can't feel tired or hungry or pain sometimes. or at least i lose the ability to be aware that I'm feeling it)#but anyway the new meds make me just tired enough to remember i need sleep#and i mean. i am sleeping slightly early but 8:30 isn't that bad i don't think#at least i have time to. you know. do stuff between the hours of 5-8 (the only hours my mom is home + stores is open)#and tbh staying up alone all night isn't. the best. for my mental health#i don't handle being alone well. and Pulse is being a dick about system barriers :P (/lh we know why it's needed rn)#we have. a deep deep fear of isolation. like not just being alone but Not Being Able To Call For Help At All#at least with phone/computer we have One outlet for help with emergency services so that helps slightly#we worry a lot about. what would happen. if we had a medical emergency. and nobody knew bc i couldn't contact anyone#mostly. the fear of Something Bad happening and not being found until hours or days later#i like being awake during the day tho bc theres Way More Options for help#and like the fear of Not Being Found doesn't go away like. ever#but at least when people are awake and around its lessened a lot#the fear increases exponentially with each possible second added to the wait time#so knowing that it's just One hour until mom is home and can check on me is a lot better than Nobody's Awake For 5 More Hours#(and my mom is deaf too so i can't just like. scream for help to wake her up)#(not that i can physically scream at all anyway my voice just cannot handle that anymore)
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astonmartinii · 1 month
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ice, ice baby (literally) | max verstappen social media au
pairing: max verstappen x raikkonen!reader
the ice man may have never spoken, but his daughter never shuts the fuck up
based on the request from @blue-skyandstars
MASTERLIST | TIP JAR
yourusername
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liked by maxverstappen1, sebastianvettel and 783,409 others
yourusername: taking names and kicking asses (and getting all assignments in on time with an appropriate amount of ass licking)
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user1: i love how she is so clearly kimi's daughter
user2: the only two blondes that don't freak me out
user3: insert that paris hilton clip "can i have two more of these little blonde bitches?"
maxverstappen1: what's an appropriate amount of ass licking and can i demonstrate on you?
maxverstappen1: wait! who said that?
yourusername: in your dreams car boy
maxverstappen1: trust me i see you in my dreams all the time
yourusername: so that's why you're always in the shower when i call you in the morning....
user4: i'm new here, are they together?
yourusername: wouldn't you like to know weather boy
maxverstappen1: she's actually my sleep paralysis demon, sorry to say
user5: they're so unserious
kimiraikkonen: keep those studies up i'm paying the bills
yourusername: i promise to use my status as a nepo baby for good papa 🫡
kimiraikkonen: proud of you.
user6: we love a self aware girly
user7: the raikkonen household really is the best balance, a guy who acts like talking causes him physical pain and a girl who couldn't shut the fuck up if she tried
yourusername: no way i'd rather it be
charles_leclerc: how many versions of that shirt do you have?
yourusername: enough...
charles_leclerc: and i'm the one who is a threat to national security when i go shopping
yourusername: that trouser collection should get you on some sort of list
user8: all these f1 drivers in her likes and comments and she's not cuffed... why is she fumbling so bad
yourusername: am I fumbling or are THEY?
user9: expose the dms please
yourusername: that would not be pg13 soz!
maxverstappen1
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liked by kimiraikkonen, landonorris and 1,094,556 others
tagged: yourusername
maxverstappen1: oh look who decided to come back
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user10: max is so annoyed that she decided to go to school in the us that he makes all american fans lives hell by winning all the races
user11: so true of him
landonorris: matching books? you're such a simp
maxverstappen1: is a man forbidden to be in a book club? who backwards of you lando
yourusername: just because you can't read, don't take it out on us
landonorris: i can read!
yourusername: name the last book you read
yourusername: and that doesn't include searching your name on twitter
landonorris: can you go back already, you're so mean
yourusername: don't come for our two man book club if you can't handle the smoke
maxverstappen1: what she said
user12: i love how spring break starts and y/n doesn't even go to see her dad, straight to max
maxverstappen1: kimi is coming! i am NOT a bad friend who deprives y/n of her dad
user12: you're also scared of kimi
maxverstappen1: i'm also scared of kimi
danielricciardo: you're in my building and i don't get any baked goods... i see how it is
yourusername: as if max is allowed to eat them anyway they're for dad
danielricciardo: i promptly take back anything i've ever said
user13: max has got to be down bad to have that much baking equipment in his house when it's canon he can barely cook eggs
yourusername: if he wanted to he would
user14: is this confirmation?
yourusername: i hope those are paper straws you're grasping at
maxverstappen1: why wouldn't i make sure i have the equipment to get my worker bee to make me sweet treats (don't read that rupert)
user15: i'm on to you two ... there's something shady going on here
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sebastianvettel
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liked by kimiraikkonen, maxverstappen1 and 1,209,409 others
tagged: yourusername
sebastianvettel: she's too old, i miss when she was a nice and polite child
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user19: annual god father seb appearance
user20: y/n please work your magic to get him to a race this weekend
yourusername: i'm working on it! watch out for suzuka
user21: the people's princess truly
yourusername: rude! i am a very polite young woman 🙁
sebastianvettel: yes you are, but also when you were ten you didn't bother me with your love life
sebastianvettel: and you weren't so fussy with food
yourusername: I AM NOT FUSSY I JUST HAVE AN ACQUIRED TASTE
sebastianvettel: you asked me to uninvite lewis to our dinner plans because you "hate that quinoa shit, i'm hungry enough to kill a horse with my bare hands"
yourusername: and i'd say it again!
lewishamilton: first of all: rude. second of all: i knew there was a reason you and max get on so well - BLAND
maxverstappen1: just because my food doesn't turn my shit green or couldn't accidentally be sold in the rabbit section of the pet store doesn't make me BLAND
yourusername: i don't trust a man who makes non-alocholic tequila THE FACT IT GETS YOU DRUNK IS THE BEST PART OF THE TEQUILA ONLY WEIRDOS DRINK TEQUILA FOR THE TASTE
lewishamilton: gasp! you said you liked it!
yourusername: i try to be supportive okay :(
user22: well that was something
user23: max always coming to the rescue ... makes you think
charles_leclerc: i am sensing some blatant favouritism here
mickschumacher: i never get invited on baking weekends :(
yourusername: snooze you lose ladies
sebastianvettel: this is exactly what i mean y/n
yourusername: my bad! i'm sorry my god father loves me more than you :p get well soon
sebastianvettel: that's not-
charles_leclerc: consider yourself in beef
yourusername: it's on babe
user24: gosh i'm so confused WHO THE FUCK DO I WANT TO GET WITH HER
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yourusername
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liked by maxverstappen1, kimiraikkonen and 809,445 others
yourusername: boy, oh, boy am i ready to finish this semester
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user26: i see tulips i do deduce that they are from max verstappen 🤓👆
user27: i hate you invasive leeches (i believe this and it is now my personal headcanon)
maxverstappen1: SEAT BELT PLEASE
yourusername: i swear i did 😫
maxverstappen1: you need to protect the precious goods
landonorris: you never tell me that 🙁
maxverstappen1: you're not precious goods, hope this helps x
landonorris: i see how it is
yourusername: don't hate the player, hate the game lando
user28: they've either got the single most flirtatious friendship ever to exist or they're together
user29: if they are just friends and those flowers are from her actual gf - i am not being dramatic but i would take a long walk off a short plank
user30: i feel like they'd be the ultimate cockblocks for each other 😭
kimiraikkonen: proud of you bub
yourusername: i am losing hair from academic stress i hope you're happy papa
kimiraikkonen: i am 👍🏻
yourusername: i am losing hair - LOSING HAIR THIS IS A BIG DEAL YOU PAY FOR MY APPOINTMENTS
kimiraikkonen: you need a college education so you're not wasting all of my money - i also pay your sorority dues so be nice to me
yourusername: i'm tired let me be the low effort nepo baby i am meant to be
user31: can kimi raikkonen pay for my hair appointments too?
jensonbutton: is that MY CAR?
yourusername: you put me on the insurance?
jensonbutton: yeah for when your car was in the shop - i thought shelby was still in my garage?
yourusername: not to victim blame but having so many cars you don't notice one is gone, that's on you
jensonbutton: @KIMIRAIKKONEN YOUR KID STOLE MY CAR
yourusername: britt gave me the keys !!!!!!
kimiraikkonen: you got duped by a 21 year old, that's not my fault
user32: kimi when y/n jokes about dropping out 🤨 kimi when y/n steals one of jenson's cars 🥹
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maxverstappen1
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liked by kimiraikkonen, landonorris and 2,305,689 others
tagged: yourusername
maxverstappen1: ice, ice baby (except you're smoking hot)
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user35: WHOOP WHOOP LET'S FUCKING GO
user36: max already having the approval of kimi, that's my king
maxverstappen1: make no mistake i went to the raikkonen household with many offerings before i asked for his permission
user37: and if he had said no?
maxverstappen1: i would've asked y/n regardless 🫡
kimiraikkonen: 🤨
maxverstappen1: uh? i'm digging my own grave but i love your daughter so that's all the matters right? RIGHT?
kimiraikkonen: 🙄
maxverstappen1: WOULD IT KILL YOU TO USE THE KEYBOARD I'M HAVING A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN HERE
user38: the way max got given approval on live tv with more words than we've heard from kimi at any point in his career and he's still a shaking mess
user39: anxious girl representation
yourusername: you melted this icicle
maxverstappen1: eh i think you've always been a softy
charles_leclerc: like softserve ice cream? shop @lec now!
maxverstappen1: do you fucking mind?
yourusername: really? on the post of my boyfriend professing his love?
charles_leclerc: god forbid a guy chases the bag (also he called you smoking hot, that's hardly a profession of love)
maxverstappen1: you little rat
yourusername: lifetime supply of lec and a flavour named after us and consider yourself forgiven
charles_leclerc: i don't need your approval that much
yourusername: @kimiraikkonen @sebastianvettel you seeing this shit?
charles_leclerc: fine... weaponising your dad and god father is a low blow
yourusername: also! i love you baby - thank you for putting up with my constant yapping xx
maxverstappen1: i love you even more, i can't wait for you to finish college so i never have to share you ever again
kimiraikkonen: 🤨
maxverstappen1: AND YOUR LOVELY FAMILY
yourusername: they love you really maxy don't worry
yourusername
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liked by sebastianvettel, jensonbutton and 1.945,440 others
tagged: maxverstappen1
yourusername: i'm so talented, i brought three more championships to the family without even getting into the car
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user40: okay idk why yall were shipping anyone else, i've seen one picture of them being cute and am sold
user41: i'm so convinced this happened cause max saw people were convinced she was with other people on the grid and he had to mark his territory
maxverstappen1: yes i was jealous but can you blame me? prettiest girl in the world actually wanted me back. i will not fumble this
user42: i need my man to be this down bad for me
kimiraikkonen: cute.
yourusername: thank you papa xxx
maxverstappen1: THANK YOU KIMI, LOVE YOU KIMI
yourusername: i think he gets it babe...
maxverstappen1: first time i've got a non-emoji answer, i will savour it
user43: oh my i love them your honour
sebastianvettel: happy for you guys, see you guys soon
yourusername: love you seb!
maxverstappen1: thanks for the vote of confidence seb
sebastianvettel: you may be a literal nightmare child, but you're our nightmare child now
kimiraikkonen: what he said
maxverstappen1: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (i am ignoring that you called me a nightmare child, i was 17 give me a break)
yourusername: you guys he's crying hahahahahah
maxverstappen1: i just love you guys (y/n more)
yourusername: i love you too xx
user44: so liked now we've got the relationship reveal... when do we get both y/n and kimi in the red bull garage
user45: lets up the stakes and get max, kimi and seb in the 24 hours of le mans
yourusername: oh now you've started it - he's already on the phone to adrian
maxverstappen1: am i the first nepotism boyfriend?
kimiraikkonen: you might be the favourite of the in-laws if you get me a le mans win
maxverstappen1: y/n is an only child? i'm the only in law?
kimiraikkonen: yes?
maxverstappen1: I'M ON THE PHONE TO ADRIAN
yourusername: did i just lose my boyf to my dad?
fin.
note: babe the writer's block is back. but i'm fighting it. hope yall enjoyed this!
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javiscigarette · 3 months
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Teacher's Pet, part II
Joel Miller x virgin f!reader
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Summary: Joel gives you a few more lessons and a few more feelings start to surface. (Picks up right where part one left off so I recommend reading that first!)
Warnings: unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, oral (m!receiving), fingering, thigh riding, dirty talk, ungodly amount of pet names, unprotected sex, virginity loss (it's the real deal this time), he's back and more annoying than ever but still just as sweet, disgustingly fluffy at times, reader has hair he can run his fingers through but no other physical descriptions, no use of y/n
w/c: ......10.5k I am so sorry
a/n: It's here! I kept changing my mind with how I wanted this to go so hopefully I landed on something good. I'm absolutely still blown away by the amount of love and support you guys gave on part one :'))) you are all incredible. Hoping and praying this one lives up to everyone's expectations
Part One
my masterlist
"Well, excuse the fuck outta me" he huffs, but the feigned offense  is betrayed by the way he’s positively beaming down at you.  "I'm about to give you the best fuckin' lay of your life, and here you are makin' fun of me." "The best fuckin' lay of my life? I haven’t even had one lay. Don't exactly have anything to compare it to." "Yeah, well, trust me. Best you're ever gonna get.” "That's some big talk, cowboy. Let's see if you can live up to that."
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Getting on your knees for Joel Miller wasn’t exactly on your agenda for today. 
Not that you’re really complaining. 
He doesn’t look bad from this angle, you have to admit.  His chest looks broader from where you are on your knees in front of him, if that’s even possible. His hair is messy and tousled from where your fingers pulled and tugged with a pretty red flush spreading down his neck and chest, and the soft curve of his belly looking positively sinful. 
“First lesson is how to take a man’s pants off,” Joel starts. “Think you can handle that? Or do you need a demonstration first?” 
You scowl up at him, his words pulling you out of your transfixation on his body. 
“Shut up,” you hiss. “I can take your pants off.” 
He grins and raises an eyebrow. 
“Yeah? Go on then. Show me.”
You roll your eyes but take a steadying breath, trying your best to calm your pounding pulse and trembling fingers as you reach up for his belt buckle. The metallic jingle has your heart fluttering in your chest, and you make quick work of the rest, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans until they’re hanging open in front of you.
You stop for a moment and glance up at him. He’s looking down at you, a soft encouraging smile playing on his lips. 
“S’okay, baby. Keep goin’,” he murmurs, nodding his head once. 
You give him a small nod and a tight swallow around the lump in your throat, dropping your gaze back to the task at hand. Gently, gingerly, you hook your fingers in the waistband of both his jeans and boxers, pulling them both down simultaneously. 
A tiny, barely audible gasp escapes you when his cock springs free and bobs heavily in front of you. 
“Jesus Christ,” you whisper, too stunned to stop the words from slipping out. 
“Just Joel if fine, actually.” 
You barely even register his jab and you definitely don’t have the bandwidth to come up with any kind of witty comeback right now, your mind too busy processing the sight before you. Sure, you’ve seen plenty of dicks before, the internet can be a magical place. But this, in person, up close and so real, is an entirely new experience. 
He's big, thick, heavy, and long with a slight upward curve. The tip is flushed a deep pink, shiny with smeared precome with more beading at the slit. A few thin veins run from his base to his tip up the length in a twisting pattern, the dark hair at his base neatly trimmed. And he’s hard, so much so that it looks nearly painful and your stomach flutters know that you're the one who did that to him.
"You can touch it, y'know." Joel says softly after a few moments of silence. "It ain't gonna bite."
"Oh my god" you groan, bringing up a hand to scrub down your face as he pulls you out of your awe. 
"Again, just Joel is fine."
He laughs proudly at his own joke and you drop your hands in your lap and stare up at him in disbelief. 
"Oh c'mon! You walked right into that one, no need to get all-"
He cuts himself off with a hiss, the air escaping between his teeth and his head falling back as your hand wraps around him, squeezing just a little too tight to be pleasant. He staggers half a step backward, hips jerking away from your grip.
"You were saying?'' you ask sweetly, grinning up at him.
"Fuckin' christ, woman. You're tryin' to get me off not break it off"
You loosen your grip a little but keep your hand still and look at him with expectant eyes, waiting for further instruction. It's not that you don't know what to do, you just don't know how to do it well. How to do it for him.
You want to do well for him.
The realization should alarm you, scare you even. But you find it only spurs you on, only makes the want burning inside of you even more potent and pressing. You want to make him moan, gasp, make his body writhe beneath your touch. You want him to be breathless, shivering, and panting with pleasure. You want to make him come undone, just like you did for him.
"Okay" he starts, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. "Lesson two is learning what he likes. Everyone's a lil different, but the basics are the same."
The nerves in your gut twist almost painfully, the anxiety of it all getting you half a second away from tapping out. 
But your decision is set in stone when he drops his hand to yours where it’s wrapped around him, giving a light squeeze before he starts to gently guide your movements. 
"Start slow,” he starts, a light strain tainting the edges of his voice. “Nice and gentle. Wanna work up to it."
You nod and watch, focused intently as if you were actually a student in class as the head of his cock disappears and reappears in your fist. His hand covers yours nearly entirely as he drags it up and down while you try and memorize where he squeezes a little tighter, when he swipes his thumb over the head. 
“Can give a little twist at the top,” he murmurs, voice low as he demonstrates what he means. “There you go, baby. Just like that,” he sighs when you do the same. 
Once satisfied, he removes his hand, letting you take control. You continue to pump him, trying to replicate the movements he just showed you. His cock is a warm, heavy weight in your hand, twitching and pulsing every now and then when you twist your wrist just right or swipe your thumb over his head like he showed you, collecting and spreading his precome to ease your strokes. 
Your confidence builds with each stroke and soon enough you start to experiment with your pace, switching between faster and slower. He gently rocks his hips in time with your hand, unable to resist thrusting forward just slightly.
The fire inside you burns even hotter at the shaky breath that he lets out above you, heat spreading through your veins like wildfire before settling low in your belly, your core aching and pulsing with it. 
"This good?" you ask concerned, your voice barely above a whisper. 
He lets out a breathless chuckle and looks down at you with heavy lidded eyes.
"Yeah, honey. Real good," he rasps, a small smile spreading across his lips.
You match his smile, biting your lip and basking in his praise, a warm, gooey feeling spreading outwards from your heart to the tips of your fingers and toes. It's like he has a direct link to the inner workings of your brain and body with how effortlessly he can make you melt, with just a soft, easy smile and a few well chosen words.
"Should I...do you want my mouth?" you ask, glancing between his flushed, leaking cock and his hooded eyes.
"God yes, baby. J-just start slow. Lick the tip, get a feel for it. Don't try to take too much right away," he instructs, his voice constricting more and more with each word. 
"So I shouldn't try to fit all of your giant cock in my mouth on my first go?" you quip, raising a brow.
"Please don't" he chuckles. "Don't want ya pukin’ all over the place. Might kill the mood," he adds with a grin.
You shake your head and let out a light laugh, the sound trailing off into a content hum when he brings his hand to the top of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, dull nails scratching lightly at your scalp.
"You're ridiculous," you sigh, leaning into the touch.
"You love it."
You do, so, so much.
"Now c'mon. You've got work to do," he teases, his hand gently tugging at your hair.
You comply easily enough, leaning forward and tenderly swiping your tongue across the slit, licking up the precome that's gathered there. He hisses, a rush of hair pushing past his clenched teeth as  his cock twitches in your hand, a fresh bead of precome forming. 
With your confidence renewed by his reaction, you do it again, pressing your tongue flat against the slit and swirling it slowly around his swollen tip all while your hand still works him at a steady pace. 
Emboldened, you take it a step further and close your lips around him, sealing them around the head to give him a slow, experimental suck. The groan he rewards you with has sparks shooting down the length of your spine.
"That's it. Good girl. Just like that," he pants, fingers tugging and tightening in your hair.
His praise washes over you in another wave of warmth, a feeling akin to a full-body shiver that has goosebumps breaking out over your skin. It strokes your ego, pride and confidence filling you as his soft moans and grunts fuel the fire burning in your belly.
Encouraged by the way he’s already falling apart, you take him a little deeper. It’s only a few inches but your lips are already stretched wide, a slight ache already settling in your jaw from how wide it's being forced open. 
You keep your tongue flat against the underside of his cock while you start to bob your head, trying to match the pace of your hand. But the motions are new and unfamiliar, your movements clumsy and uncoordinated and when he hits the roof of your mouth, your gag reflex kicks in forcing you to pull off quickly, coughing and sputtering.
"Easy. Easy," Joel soothes, his fingers scratching at your scalp again. "Try to breathe through your nose. And don't don't force it, yeah? Feels good, just the way you were doin' it."
"Sorry," you apologize sheepishly, looking up at him through your lashes.
"Ain't nothing to be sorry for. S’your first time. It takes practice. Now, c'mon. Try again. Nice and easy. And if this man tries to-"
But you're not in the mood for another Joel Miller Life Lesson, especially when he’s about to mention the other man who's name you can barely even remember anymore. 
Thankfully, his words dissolve into a groan when you take him back in your mouth, your lips wrapping around his sensitive head, tongue flat where it slowly glides down the underside of his cock as you take him deeper. 
The ache in your core is quickly growing more and more incessant. You can still feel the ghost of his fingers and tongue on you, your inner thighs wet and sticky with the memory. And the sinful sounds he’s making, whispered curses between breathy moans and grunts, are not exactly helping your case. 
You manage to take a little more, his thick cock stretching your mouth wider, forcing your jaw open even further. You gag slightly around him again but you’re determined to push through it this time. YOu squeeze your eyes shut and breathe in harshly through your nose as saliva dribbles past the tight seal of your mouth and drips onto your hand, your fist diligently pumping what you can't take.
He responds with a low, guttural groan, his hips jerking forward, chasing after the sensation of your throat convulsing around him. 
You're still only a little over halfway down and it's a quick realization that you'll never be able to get it all down your throat. Maybe you can try and practice, but it’s practically a pipe dream to even think about getting his whole cock into your throat without choking to death on it.
But that's a problem for another day. 
For the next time. 
For now, you hollow out your cheeks and suck as you pull back, tongue swirling along the underside until his cock leaves your mouth with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting your swollen, spit-slicked lips to his glistening tip. 
You use your hand to spread the wetness, mixing it with the precome that's leaking steadily from the flushed head. The smooth glide allows you to speed up your pace as you look up at him through your lashes, trying to gauge his reaction.
He's staring down at you with hazy, lust blown eyes, his jaw hanging open, panting heavily.
"How am I doing, Professor?" you tease with an innocent smile. A lazy grin slowly spreads on his face in return.
"You’re a fuckin’ natural, baby," he mumbles, his hand moving from where it's tangled in your hair to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the apple of your flushed cheek, "My good girl."
And maybe, most likely, the words slipped out unintentionally, the heat of the moment forcing out things that he doesn’t really mean. But all the alarms and sirens in your head warning yourself to not fall too deep into this trap that is Joel Miller with his pretty words and sweet praises and soft smiles are all dead silent right now. There’s not a single part of your brain that’s trying to resist him right now. You doubt you could even if you wanted to. 
Because he just called you his girl. 
His.
To say you’re fucked would be the understatement of the century. 
You hum, pressing your cheek into his palm, wanting, needing, craving more. More of his touch, his taste, his warmth, his cock, his praise. So you take him back in your mouth with a renewed determination, spurred on by his words, wanting to prove to him that he's right, that you are his good girl. Determined to show him that you can make him feel good, that you can please him, that he'll want more of you, need more of you.
And judging by the way his grip on your hair is almost painful, his thighs trembling as he holds himself still, fighting the urge to jerk his hips forward and shove his cock down your throat, you'd say you're doing a damn good job
"Makin’ me feel so good, baby. So fuckin' good," he pants when you take him a little deeper.
You whine quietly around him as you press your sticky thighs together. White hot heat pooling low in your belly, your neglected cunt throbbing and aching, slick, wet, and messy. 
You squirm in your spot, rubbing your thighs together and grinding down on nothing in desperate search for the slightest bit of friction. You pray that the movement is subtle enough for Joel not to notice. 
As if that’s possible.
“Oh, Sweetheart,” Joel starts, his tone annoyingly saccharine and condescending as he smirks down at you. “Did we forget somethin’ important?” 
Another small whimper is all you can muster, too focused and preoccupied with the way his thick length is filling your mouth, the weight and taste of him on your tongue dizzying and addicting. 
“Well look at that,” he coos, his hand leaving your hair and sliding down your cheek to cradle your  jaw. He swipes swiping over your bottom lip that’s stretched around his length, smearing the spit that’s gathered there.
“Think I finally found a way to shut ya up. We should’a done this a long time ago. Woulda saved me a lot of headaches,” he chuckles, the sound dissolving into a sharp hiss when you dig your nails into the tender skin of the back of his thigh, hard enough to leave a mark.
You pull off his cock with a wet pop, jaw aching as you glare up at him. 
"I'd shut up if I were you" you warn, the threat of your words completely lost in the breathless, desperate way they leave your mouth. "Just one good chomp is all it would take" you add, clicking your teeth together for emphasis.
But Joel's face just splits into a grin, a full blown, infuriating smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. 
"Biting huh? Now that’s a little kinky. Didn't know you had it in you, sweetheart."
"Shut up," you snap, but it still lacks any real heat, not with the way your lips are twitching at the corners, fighting a smile, your eyes undoubtedly sparkling, your heart definitely leaping out of your chest at the way his eyes are boring into yours.
"Careful, sweetheart. Might have to knock you down a whole letter grade for that type of talk. Gotta respect your professor ‘n all, y’know."
"You're insufferable," you grumble.
"But yet, here you are, still on your knees."
"And I'm gonna get up and leave if you don't stop talking."
"Leave before or after you chomp my dick off? Cause I'd really like a heads up for that, if ya could."
"Jesus fucking christ, Joel!" You huff, rolling your eyes so hard it actually hurts. "Do you ever just shut the fuck up? I'm literally on my knees right now with your dick in my mouth and you're still finding ways to piss me off!"
“What can I say? It’s a special talent of mine,” he says with a nonchalant shrug, the smug smile on his face making you want to genuinely bite his dick off now.
You drop the wet hand you had wrapped around him and start to move to your feet.
"You know what, I'm just gonna go. Maybe I'll call my coworker. He's not nearly as irritating as you," you huff, pushing yourself up onto shaky legs, your knees stiff and sore. 
But you can't even take one step before he's grabbing your waist, his large, warm palm resting firmly on the swell of your hip. His fingers flex, his grip tightening, not enough to hurt, but it's enough to halt you in your tracks. You're not particularly fond of the way your heart skips a beat in your chest, the way you can feel goosebumps breaking out all over your body from just his touch. 
He pulls you in closer until your chest is pressed against his, hard, wet cock pressed against your bare thigh.
"You really think you’re gonna leave with your pussy drippin' all over the place like that?” he says, his voice seamlessly switching from teasing to low and rough as his dark, hungry eyes bore into yours. “You're about to ruin my floors with the way you're leakin' right now, baby. Wouldn’t want that, now would we?” 
Your cheeks flame with embarrassment from how easily he was able to see your desperation, and with anger at how right he is. 
"Shut the fuck up, Joel," you mumble, giving him a weak push at his chest. "I'm not leaking I-"
The rest of your sentence stays lodged in your throat when his free hand slips between your thighs. Two deft fingers drag through the slick mess, collecting your arousal and spreading it around, a soft, wet, obscene sound filling the space between you. 
You don't even think to stop the high pitched, breathy whine from escaping your lips when he slides a thick finger inside you with no warning, your pathetic sound dissolving into a moan when he immediately follows it up with a second one, his palm pressed flat against your clit.
"Not leaking, hmm? Sure don't seem like it, baby," he purrs, his voice a low, rumbling drawl, his warm breath fanning across your cheek. "Feel that? How easy it was for me to get two fingers in ya?"
"Fuck," you whine as you dig your nails into the bare skin of his shoulder, hanging on to him and desperately searching for any semblance of stability as you try not to sway on shaky legs.
He crooks his fingers in you, fingertips digging into the spongy spot on your front wall that has your knees buckling, tiny stars dotting your vision momentarily as a rush of arousal gushes out of you, a pitiful whimper falling from your lips. Joel chuckles, low and dark and the sound shoots straight to your neglected clit, a bolt of lightning arcing down your spine.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," he murmurs, nosing at the sensitive skin below your ear, the faint scrape of his beard against your cheek sending a shiver down your spine. 
The feeling of him removing his fingers is a cruel, sudden jolt, the emptiness and lack of pressure and friction has you keening, a needy, impatient noise bubbling up from your throat.
He's moving before you can complain though, stepping around you to sit on the edge of the bed and then promptly pulling you down onto his lap. You let out a small squeak of surprise as he forces you to straddle his thigh, pulling you down until your aching cunt is seated firmly against his bare skin. The position has his cock pressing against your hip, a drop of precome smearing against your skin.
"Fuckin' soaked for me, honey,” he drawls, his fingertips dimpling the soft skin of your hips. “And to think you were about to leave without gettin' what you came here for.” 
You can't even speak, too enraptured with the feeling of his strong muscles flexing subtly under your hypersensitive clit. So you ignore his teasing and just grind down instead, past the point of desperation. 
But he would never let you win that easily, would he? 
He laughs and tightens his grip on your hips, stopping your movement and holding you in place.
"Ah-ah, not so fast, baby. Let's talk about the terms first."
You give him the best glare you can muster while suppressing a needy whimper. 
"Terms?"
"Yeah. Terms. Of all this. Like if this is a one time thing, or if we're gonna be havin' regular...lessons," he replies, his hands slowly sliding up your waist and coming to rest on your ribs, his thumbs stroking the undersides of your breasts. 
"If you're gonna go out with this guy," he continues, his thumbs brushing over both of your nipples. "Or if I'm the only one who's gonna get to see this," he says, leaning forward, his warm breath fanning over your skin. You bite your lip, holding in the soft, needy moan threatening to spill out when his lips press to the hollow of your throat.
"If I'm the only one who gets to have you like this. If I'm the only one who's allowed to touch you. To kiss you," he says, punctuating his last word with a kiss to the center of your chest, his hands squeezing the swell of your breasts, his tongue flicking out and licking at your nipple.
"Or do you plan on letting him have you too?" He asks, the tip of his tongue swirling around your nipple before closing his lips around the pebbled peak, sucking it into his mouth, his teeth lightly grazing it before he pulls back. "'Cause I'm not too keen on sharin', baby."
You take a deep steadying breath, trying to clear the thick haze that's clouding your mind and focus on his words, his questions about the fucking terms. 
And you do think about it, about your coworker who's been nothing but so sweet to you, who doesn't get on your nerves in under a millisecond. The coworker, Micheal, you think, his name finally returning to you, who doesn't tease you and play games and leave you a panting, needy, dripping mess. 
And while he is really such a perfect gentleman, he isn’t the one that’s been there for you, listening to you complain about all the shitty things that have happened to you in the last year. He isn’t the man that lets you use him as a punching bag whenever you’re frustrated, has never been the calm, reasonable voice that challenges the anxiety that overwhelms you and threatens to pull you under. 
Michael has never held you when you've cried, never helped you cook dinner after a hard day at work, never fixed the flickering light in your bathroom. He certainly has never dropped a key to his front door in your palm accompanied by a lopsided smile and the words just in case ya need anything. 
Michael isn’t the one who’s been the one to pick up your pieces and put you back together, so gently and tenderly, making you even better than you were before.
It's useless, trying to avoid it. Trying to push it down, bury it, ignore it, how you've been feeling and what you want. 
It’s Joel.
All of it. 
You want Joel. 
All of him. 
You've wanted him since the day you showed up on his porch with a six pack. You've wanted him all those times you watched from a distance as he fixed something in your house, so capable and competent, casually waving away your slew of thank yous. You wanted him every single time he invited you over for a movie night, sitting close enough to you on his couch that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. You wanted him every time he made your blood boil and your eyes roll so hard you swore you could see the back of your brain, and every time you genuinely thought you were going to smack him. 
And now, you have him.
Right here, naked and hard and underneath you, your pussy leaking on his thigh. 
The answer is so painfully obvious, the words falling from your lips before you even have a chance to process them.
"M'not gonna see him," you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Want this. Want you."
Joel hums, indicating that he heard you. But again, he would never let you win that easily. 
"Speak up, baby," Joel says, releasing your nipple with a soft pop, his eyes dark and intense, a predatory, feral glint in them. "Can't hear you."
And it's infuriating and annoying, absolutely maddening. And it's the last straw.
You're not sure if it's the frustration, or the pent up desire, or the heat burning inside you, or the fact that Joel's still hard, and still leaking precum against your hip, as your cunt slides against his thigh, but you break.
You absolutely shatter.
"I want you!" you practically shout, hands balling into fists where they're resting on his shoulders. 
"You, okay? You! You and your stupid, fucking, annoying ass, and your dumbass pickup truck, and your stupid, charming grin, and the way you always call me 'baby', and 'honey', and 'sweetheart'. It drives me fucking insane!  And the way you're always fixing shit, and being so fucking helpful and sweet and you always, always make me laugh, and smile, and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by in the past year that I didn’t think about you and I can’t get you out of my fucking head, not even for a single fucking second.” 
The words spill from your lips in a breathless tirade, and it feels good, freeing. It's like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, like a great burden has been taken off of you. 
But the feeling doesn't last long.
Silence stretches between you and it's suffocating, oppressive, and you feel like the walls are closing in on you, panic rising in your chest.
Your cheeks burn, nauseating embarrassment and humiliation coursing through you as you realize the full weight of what you just word-vomited all over him. Your chest heaves, and you hang your head, unable to bring yourself to look at him.
But then, a bright laugh sounds through the otherwise quiet room. And your eyes snap to Joel's face, only to find him smiling.
He's fucking laughing.
"Joel!" you scold, a mixture of mortification and confusion washing over you.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he placates, but the laughter in his voice doesn't help to ease your nerves. "I didn't mean to laugh, it's just...I just can't believe how dense you are."
The daggers you shoot at him are truly deadly. 
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Do you think I just go around callin' everyone 'baby' and 'sweetheart'?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow.
"I..." you stammer, trailing off as his words sink in. 
"I mean, my southern charm is one thing,” he says, obnoxiously wiggling his eyebrows. “But you’re seriously thick if  you think I'm like this with anyone else.” 
You stare blankly at him, trying to process what he’s saying. 
“Do you think I let all the neighbors just use me for free handy work, think I cook dinner with all of them, think I keep a stash of everyone’s favorite snacks in my pantry, give everyone a fuckin’ key to my front door? And you think I just go around agreeing to sex lessons to anyone who asks?” He rambles, squeezing your hip. 
Your brain is reeling as you try to wrap your head around everything. 
"Well...no” you stammer, your brows pinching together.  “But…"
"How many other girls you seen me bringin' home? Huh? How many other girls you see me with?"
"None" you admit sheepishly.
"Mhm. Because I don't. Not since you moved in next door."
You frown, confusion clouding your features. You open your mouth to speak but Joel cuts you off.
"I like you, baby," he admits with a sigh. "A lot. Maybe too much. But I wasn't about to lose you as a friend just because I'm crazy about you. And if being your friend is the only way I can be close to you, then I'd take it and die a happy man."
You can only stare at him, the words he just spoke bouncing around in your brain, and a warmth blooms in your chest, your heart fluttering wildly in your ribcage.
"Are you kidding me?!" You exclaim suddenly, hitting his shoulder.
"Hey! Ow!" he barks, his eyes widening as he grabs his shoulder. "The fuck was that for?!"
"You've been trying to sleep with me for a whole year?!"
"I wouldn’t say trying," he says with a casual shrug. "Just waiting. Wanted you to take the lead but you’re a little stubborn, baby."
You scoff, glaring at him, not missing the way his lips twitch at the corners, the way his eyes sparkle with amusement.
"So, the reason why I haven't been able to catch a break the entire time we've known each other, has been because you've been trying to get in my pants? Is that what you're telling me?"
"Well, that part is just natural. You're just too easy to get riled up. And that’s not my fault."
You open your mouth to argue with him but his sliding over your hips to palm at your ass and his lips are ghosting over the shell of your ear, his beard scraping against the sensitive skin.
"But no, I can't deny that I like it," he rasps, his breath warm against the side of your neck. "The way you get all fired up and angry, your face all flushed, your chest heaving. Mmm, it's nice. You look real pretty when you're all worked up and pissed off," he whispers, his lips curled in a smile when he presses a kiss to the spot below your ear before pulling back to look at you. 
"Why didn't you tell me,” you say, voice softer now, the rough edges of your tone smoothed out by the feeling of his lips on your skin.
"Didn't want to make it weird. Didn't want you to think I was some creepy old man and ruin our friendship" he explains with a small shrug. "But then you came over here tonight askin’ for a sex lesson, which was not easy by the way, acting like I wasn't already about to burst outta my pants as soon as you asked. Thought for sure you were onto me. But then you started going on about that douche canoe Michael-"
"Joel."
"And then I got jealous and pissed, and figured it was time to cut my losses and just enjoy it while I can, but-"
"Joel."
"Then we were kissing and you were touchin’ me and you're so fucking sexy and-"
"Joel!"
"What?"
"Just kiss me, you idiot" you breathe, and before the words are even fully out of your mouth, his lips are on yours, crashing into you with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs.
It’s bruising, searing, all consuming.
His fingers dig into the meat of your ass as he pulls you forward, the seam of your pussy dragging deliciously against the strong muscles under warm skin. 
Your fingers tangle in his hair, and tug, the base of your spine tingling when he groans softly into your mouth, and you grind your hips against his, the wet heat of your cunt grinding into his thigh, pulling another soft, low sound from his throat.
"Fuck" he groans, pulling away just far enough to press his forehead to yours, his breath coming in quick, sharp pants, his chest heaving. "Baby, are you still okay with this?" he breathes, voice ragged and gravelly.
You look at him as if he's grown a second head.
"Are you serious?"
""I...well, I was serious when I said I'd be fine with being your friend, and I don't want you to think I'm tryna pressure you into anything."
You can't help but roll your eyes, the soft, endearing side of Joel coming out at the worst possible time.
"I literally just admitted that I've had a crush on you for months, and now I'm sitting on your lap, soaked, and grinding on your thigh and you're worried I don't want this? I think you might be the dense one here."
He grins, wicked and wide, a flash of sharp teeth, the dimple in his cheek deepening.
"Guess so," he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
You don't respond, and instead choose to silence him by pulling him into a kiss, licking at the seam of his lips and sucking his tongue into your mouth. He groans softly into your mouth, and you swallow the noise, rolling your hips again, chasing the sweet friction that's sending a delicious heat through your veins.
"God, baby," he breathes when he pulls back for air, hands on your ass gripping and guiding you against his leg, encouraging your movements. "Makin' such a mess, ain't ya?"
You bite your lip, nodding as a wave of arousal surges through you.
"Yeah, you are. Soakin' my leg, sweet girl," he says, his eyes flicking down between you, watching as your pussy drags along his thigh, coating him in a shiny, slippery sheen.
"Fuck, Joel, please" you whine, your hips jerking and rolling against him.
And that's all the encouragement he needs.
In the blink of an eye, you're on your back, Joel hovering above you, a wild look in his eyes.
"Don't worry, baby," he says, his voice low and husky, and he trails his fingers over your hip and up your ribs, his touch light, teasing, barely ghosting across your skin and it's almost ticklish, making you shiver. "M'gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good."
Your heart thunders in your chest, and your cunt throbs, your arousal leaking out of you. It feels like you’re about to crawl out of your own skin, the desperation growing with every passing second. 
He trails his fingers down your sternum, and over the flat expanse of your stomach, goosebumps breaking out across your skin in his wake, the muscles under your skin rippling and twitching at the soft, fleeting touches.
And when he reaches the crease of your thigh, you let out a shaky, trembling breath, and he chuckles softly, his lips curling into a crooked grin.
"Eager, are we?" he teases, dragging his fingers over the slick flesh between your legs, gathering the wetness pooled there before slowly sliding a single thick digit inside you. "We're gonna get there, baby. But gotta make sure you're ready first. Don't wanna hurt you.”
You whimper, your walls fluttering and clenching around his finger, and your hips roll forward, seeking friction, wanting, needing more.
Joel curses under his breath and groans softly when your wet, warm walls constrict around his finger. His cock leaks and twitches where it’s pressed against your thigh, and you whimper, both of you caught up in an endless cycle of keying each other up. 
"Please, Joel" you beg, and the words come out soft, pleading, and desperate. You should probably be embarrassed at how quickly he's reduced you to a begging, quivering mess, but the way his eyes go dark, and his pupils blow wide, makes the embarrassment worth it.
"Please, what, baby?” He prods with a devilish smirk. “Use your words"
"You're such an asshole" you snap, but the venom in your voice is diluted with pleasure as he slips another finger inside you.
"You keep saying that. What d’ya want me to do about it, sweetheart? You want me to stop?" he taunts. 
"No!" you cry out, reaching down and grabbing his wrist with an iron grip when he starts to pull out. 
"Then tell me what you want, honey."
"Fuck you,” you mumble weakly. 
"Mhm. Okay, honey" he drawls,  his thumb moving  to circle around your clit as his fingers curl inside you, still pumping in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. . "I'll just wait then. Take my time. Tease your pretty little pussy until you can't stand it. I'm in no hurry, baby. Gonna take all night, if that's what it takes. I've waited this long."
"Joel, please" you whine again, the ache between your thighs turning to an unbearable burn.
"Tell me what you want,” he repeats casually. 
"You," you try with a needy whimper.
"Me? You got me, sweetheart. What else?"
“Oh my fucking god can you please just fuck me? Or do I have to spell it out for you, old man?"
"There she is," Joel says with a laugh, his grin splitting his face "There's my girl"
And then his fingers are gone and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. But before you can protest much more,, they're sliding back in, this time joined by a third.
Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping him, nails digging into the soft flesh of his muscles.
"Oh fuck" you pant, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he starts pumping his fingers again. 
"Gotta get ya ready, baby" he breathes, and his lips are ghosting along your jawline and up the shell of your ear, his breath warm.  "Such a tight little pussy, but we'll get you nice and open, don’t worry.  Then I'm gonna sink in ya, fill you up real nice. Take real good care of you, baby. Fuck you nice and deep, make you forget your name. Would you like that? Hmm?"
A strangled moan is all you can manage in response. His words, filthier and more deranged than any you've ever heard him speak before, sending your brain into overdrive. 
You can’t help but roll your hips, and bucking, and gyrating, meeting his thrusts as his fingers pump in and out of you, the lewd, wet, sloppy sounds filling the otherwise quiet room, and the coil in your gut is threatening to snap.
"Joel, Joel, fuck, oh fuck" you chant, your hazy and thick with pure arousal. It drips down your spine and flows through your veins, liquid heat burning, searing, and  scorching you from the inside out. 
You manage to open your eyes long enough to look down and see the tendons flexing in his wrist, the muscles and veins in his forearm bulging as he works you, his face brows pinched in concentration as he focuses on your reactions. 
"Oh shit, honey," Joel curses breathlessly, a smug grin stretching across his lips as he feels your slick pooling in his palm. “So messy, baby. You gonna cum? Hmm? Gonna be a good girl and lemme feel your sweet little cunt clench and drip even more around my fingers?"
You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows as he thrusts his fingers into you, the heel of his palm rubbing deliciously against your clit. Your fingers scrabble for purchase, desperately seeking something, anything, to ground yourself. You settle for the firm muscle of his arms, your nails biting into his skin and leaving bright red marks that'll undoubtedly leave little half-moon bruises later
"Fuck, yeah, c’mon, sweetheart, lemme feel. Give it to me."
You come with a cry, the dam breaking, the tension in your gut exploding outward, a wave of euphoria crashing over you, washing through every inch of your body. Your legs tremble and shake, and Joel works you through it, his fingertips nudging that spongy spot inside you, dragging his thumb across your throbbing clit, milking you through the aftershocks, and when you start to come down, you're panting and breathless, your chest heaving.
You look up at Joel, and his eyes are blown wide, the deep, rich brown of his irises nothing more than a thin, dark ring around his dilated pupils. There are no words, at least none that you can manage to articulate at the moment, so instead you let out a breathless laugh, and a contented hum, a smile spreading across your lips.
Joel grins, laughing, and he leans down to capture your lips in a chaste kiss.
"Good girl" he breathes against your mouth, his words a low, rough rumble that has you keening. "That feel good, baby?"
"Fuck, yeah" you sigh, melting into the matress. 
"Good,” he says before pressing a kiss to your forehead then pulling back to look you in the eyes again. “ Think you're ready for me now?"
“Mhm,” you murmur with a lazy nod. “Want you, Joel.” 
Joel laughs, the sound sweeter than it’s ever sounded before.. "You've got me, sweetheart. You've had me. Always will."
"That's awfully fucking sappy," you tease breathlessly, threading your fingers into his soft dark hair. 
"Well, excuse the fuck outta me" he huffs, but the feigned offense is  betrayed by the way he’s positively beaming down at you.  "I'm about to give you the best fuckin' lay of your life, and here you are makin' fun of me."
"The best fuckin' lay of my life? I haven’t even had one lay. Don't exactly have anything to compare it to."
"Yeah, well, trust me. Best you're ever gonna get.”
You scoff and roll your eyes, raising a brow at him. 
"That’s some big talk, cowboy. Let's see if you can live up to that."
Joel barks out a laugh, the sound coming out more like a snarl, his eyes flashing with something feral, predatory, and dangerous at your challenge.
And then he’s abruptly pulling his fingers from you then  bringing them up to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the slick coating his fingers. The sight nearly puts you into cardiac arrest.
"So fuckin' sweet" he murmurs, his eyes slipping closed momentarily, and a low, satisfied hum rumbles in his chest. It's downright obscene, the way his lips wrap around his fingers, how he licks and sucks, cleaning your arousal off of them. 
"Joel," you breathe, your voice nothing more than a shaky exhale.
His eyes snap open, and he gives you a lopsided smirk. 
"Sorry, baby,” he starts, pulling his fingers from his mouth and wiping them on the blanket underneath you. “Can’t help myself. Just had to taste ya again. Gonna have a hard time not doing that every time,” he finishes with a sly smile. 
Every time. 
The words are like a shock of electricity shooting through your veins, setting your blood ablaze. Every time. As in multiple times. 
How the fuck is this real? 
He  stupid smirk is still glued to his face as he leans over to rummage around in the drawer of his nightstand. Your brows furrow when he pulls out a condom and goes to open it. 
"I...uh..." you start, but the words die in your throat.
"What's wrong?" Joel asks, his smug expression immediately morphing into one of concern.
"I...well...it's just, I'm- I'm on the pill… We can use a condom, but...it's not necessary…just wanted to put that out there. In case, you know…you didn't wanna use one. Since it's not...like, not entirely necessary,” you say quietly, casting your eyes down to where your fingers fiddle with the edge of the blanket. 
"Ahh, I see,” Joel responds, all too pleased. “You just want me to raw dog it, huh?” 
"Wha-no! Oh my god, Joel, you are so fucking embarrassing," you groan, covering your face with your hands. 
"S'okay, honey, don’t be embarrassed. It is all part of the full Joel Miller Experience anyway,” he reassures you with a sickeningly sweet tone.. 
"Oh my fucking god, I told you not to say that ever again,” you groan, shoving at his shoulder, which only makes him laugh. And you can feel yourself smiling too, despite how irked you are.
"Alright, alright, I'll stop," he relents, still laughing a little. "If you really don't want me to use one, I guess I can make an exception, just for you"
And it's as if he knows that you're about to lash out at him again, because he leans down and presses his lips to yours before you have a chance to say anything, all the fight in you draining away as soon as his mouth is on yours.
"You tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers when he pulls back. “Or if I do anything you're uncomfortable with, or if you just need a break. You let me know, okay?"
You nod.
"Promise?"
"I promise, Joel. Please just get on with it."
"Impatient" he breathes, but  kisses you again nonetheless, soft, slow, and tender. And when he pulls away, his eyes are searching yours like he's looking for any signs of hesitancy. But all he sees is the same raw desire reflected back in your wide, eager eyes. 
You see the exact moment that the last vestiges of his self-restraint disappear, his gaze growing darker and hungrier as he pushes himself up to sit back  on his knees, one  hand around the base of his cock, the other  on the inside of your thigh as he tenderly spreads you open and settles himself between your legs.
He teases you of course, dragging his length through your folds, letting the swollen, leaking tip catch on your clit before sliding back down to nudge at your entrance. You whimper, and try to grind against him, but his hand is firm, holding your hip still, not allowing you any friction.
He hushes you softly, his thumb gently stroking the soft, delicate skin where your hip meets your thigh. "Just let me do what I need to do, baby. Let me take care of you.” 
"You're evil," you whine, squirming underneath him.
"Yeah, well, that's a matter of opinion" he grunts, your breath hitching when he lines himself up and finally, finally pushes the blunt tip of his cock inside you.
Your lips part on a gasp, the feeling of his thick head stretching you open, the slight burn of the intrusion, a mixture of aching and pure pleasure. And you can feel his eyes practically burning holes in your skin, drinking in every little reaction, every flutter of your lashes, every twitch of your brow.
"How's that?" he asks, his voice tight and strained. He looks just as wrecked as you feel, his jaw tight, a sheen of sweat already on his brow, the muscles in his forearms bulging with the effort of restraining himself.
"More," is all you manage to rasp out, pushing your hips up, trying to get him to sink deeper.
Joel grunts, and then obliges, his eyes screwed shut in concentration as he tries to feed you only a little more of his considerable length. You can see him chewing on his lip, his nostrils flaring, a slight tremble in his thighs, his fingers digging into your skin.
"Jesus fuck, you're tight" he grits out, his chest heaving as he tries to regain some of his composure. "I-I didn't…fuck, I didn't think- shit. God fuckin' damn, baby"
You smile a little, the corners of your lips curling upwards. It's the first time you've ever seen him truly at a loss for words, and it's a very welcome change. 
You reach up and card your fingers through his hair, his eyes fluttering closed, a sweet sigh escaping his lips at the feeling.
"I can take more," you say softly.
Joel shakes his head, his brow furrowed. "Not yet."
But you don't listen. Not that you ever really listen to him. 
Your impatience gets the best of you and you push yourself further down the bed, forcing another inch of his cock inside you, your walls fluttering wildly around him as you let out a low moan. 
"Ah fuck, honey," he groans, his eyes flying open.
"C'mon, Joel. More. Please," you beg, grinding down on his cock, taking just a little bit more with each roll of your hips until his fingers dig into your hips so hard, you're sure they'll leave bruises.
"Baby stop fuckin' movin'" he hisses, his grip tightening even further. "Please."
You can hear the strain in his voice, and you can feel him trembling above you, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing and tensing.
"Why not?" you pout.
"Cause m'tryin' not to fuckin' come right now, alright?" he grunts, his teeth gritted. "So please, just stop. For a minute."
"You can't possibly be serious," you breathe, a smile creeping on your face again. "You're not even all the way in yet."
He glares down at you, his eyes narrowing. "Not my fault you're fuckin' tight as shit. It's like your cunt is tryin' to strangle me."
You giggle a little, the sound coming out breathy and light. You don't miss the way Joel's cock twitches at the sound.
"You're being so dramatic," you sigh, rolling your hips again.
"Fuck, honey, please," he begs, his eyes pleading, and the sight is almost enough to make you stop teasing him.
Almost. 
You can't help the devilish smirk that crosses your face as you bring your hand up to his cheek, stroking your thumb across the stubble on his chin. He lets his eyes fall closed again, leaning into your touch. 
"This isn't very 'best lay your life' behavior."
"I will fuckin' strangle you," he mutters, his eyes still closed, a smile playing on his lips.
"Is that part of the Joel Miller Experience too? Because I don't remember seeing it in the brochure. Was it next to the premature ejaculation section? Or maybe the-"
The air is knocked right out of your lungs, cut off mid-sentence when Joel pushes forward. He keeps it slow but unrelenting, sinking into you in one smooth, fluid motion. You cry out, your back arching off the bed, eyes screwing shut as your fists twist in the blanket underneath you. 
It's more than overwhelming, it's absolutely mind melting the way he buries himself completely, stretching your walls, forcing them to make room for him, to mold perfectly around his length. You gasp for air between harsh pants and weak cries, the sensation of him filling you up, so much bigger than you expected, so much thicker than his fingers. You squirm underneath him, trying to get used to the feeling of his tip pressed against your cervix, the pressure building deliciously as the ache radiates from your core through your belly, to the tips of your toes.
"That what you wanted, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice strained and gruff, one hand still gripping your hip as he presses the other into the mattress by your head, holding himself up. "Is that enough for you?"
You struggle to find words, but you're not even sure if there are any in the English language that can convey just how good it feels.
"Uh-huh," you nod, blinking rapidly as the edges of your vision start to blur. "Fuck, Joel. You're so fucking big, oh my god."
You hear him chuckle, and he presses a chaste kiss to your temple.
"Not too much though, is it? Cause you were begging for more just a second ago. Thought you could take it, sweetheart," he croons, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.
"No, no, 'sgood, " you whimper, the words slurring together as he starts to grind into you. "F-fuck. Joel. Shit, that feels so good. Holy fuck.
"There's my good girl," he murmurs, pressing more kisses to your cheek and your jaw, trailing down the column of your neck. His lips brush against the sensitive skin, his breath hot against you. He lets you get used to the feeling, cursing under his breath and trying to think of anything else but the tight, wet heat convulsing around his cock.
"Doesn't hurt?" he asks with a sudden tenderness, his voice vibrating against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.
"No," you sigh, finally starting to relax around him.
"Good. You gonna let me know if it does, right baby? Or if you need me to stop?"
You nod weakly. "Mhm."
He kisses you then, a soft, languid, and lazy drag of his lips against yours. He slides his tongue along your lower lip, and you let him in without any hesitation, parting your lips with a breathy sigh. He takes the opportunity to swallow down every little sound that spills from your mouth, kissing you with a kind of reverence, a kind of tenderness, a kind of patience and passion that makes your heart feel like it might beat right out of your chest. 
He pulls away leaving you even more breathless and dizzy, your lips tingling and swollen. And you're not sure if it's because of the kiss or the way he's stretching you so fucking wide, but your fucking drunk on it. 
He kisses you once more, on the corner of your mouth, his lips curling up into a smile when you nuzzle against his cheek, seeking out more.
"You still with me, honey?"
"Yes, yes, I'm here," you answer, your voice sounding far away, distant and dreamy. Joel chuckles, the sound making you smile. 
"You wanna keep going, sweetheart? Or d'ya need a minute?"
"I'm good, I'm good," you assure him, trying to lift your hips a little. "You can...keep going."
"Alright. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?"
You nod and then close your eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath as Joel pulls out, just a little, his cock dragging along your walls. It's another wave of overwhelming sensation, your entire body shaking. But it's nothing compared to the feeling when he pushes back in. The same full, aching, almost painful stretch, except it's somehow even better this time, your walls gripping him tighter, pulling him in, trying to keep him there.
"Fuck, oh my god, oh my god," you cry, your breath catching in your throat, your eyes fluttering open to look up at him. "Oh, Joel, fuck."
He's hovering over you, his brows furrowed in concentration, the muscles in his arms, chest and stomach flexing and contracting as he moves above you.
"Good?" he asks, a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, his eyes hooded.
You answer with a nod, followed by a long, low moan when he starts to slowly pull out again, pushing back in a bit faster this time. He builds a rhythm, the slick drag of his cock filling you up again and again, each thrust a little deeper, a little harder, a little faster.
"You're taking it so good," he pants, his hips snapping against yours with a particularly hard thrust, the force of which has you keening and crying out his name. Your walls clench around him, a gush of slick pouring out around his cock as you subconsciously try to pull him in even further.
"God you're so fucking tight, baby. Fuckin' soaked too, dripping all over me. Fuck. So fucking wet and perfect," he groans, his voice sounding strained, almost like he's in pain. "Such a good fucking girl."
You can't do anything more than just lay there and let him fuck into you, the sounds that spill from your lips a mix of moans, whimpers and desperate little cries. Your brain feels like mush, all thought processes reduced to a single loop of his name, your lips chanting it over and over.
And Joel's not much better, the only coherent words out of his mouth a string of praises, calling you his good girl, telling you how well you're taking him, how fucking tight you are, how heavenly you feel. His hands are everywhere too, caressing, stroking, kneading, squeezing, leaving no inch of your skin untouched.
He finds a steady rhythm and you know it's not nearly as hard as he could go, not by a long shot, but every thrust and drag of his cock hits you so deep and so hard, it's a miracle that you don't shatter beneath him. And the sounds, god the sounds are so obscene, the slapping of skin against skin, the wet, squelching noises of him pounding into your dripping cunt. It's a chorus of pure debauchery, music to both of your ears, only adding to the building pleasure. 
And just when you start to think that it can't possibly get any better, he hits a spot deep inside you that has your body bowing, a strangled cry tearing from your throat. You clamp down around him and he curses, his hips stuttering, his rhythm faltering for just a moment.
"There it is," he grunts, and you can hear the smug smirk in his voice, the absolute bastard. "Right there, huh? That the spot?"
He doesn't wait for you to answer, pulling almost all the way out, and then driving back into you, hitting the same spot dead-on. And you keen and wail, your body thrashing wildly as a new wave of ecstasy washes over you.
"Yes, yes, yes," you chant, clawing at his back, digging your fingers into his shoulders.
"Yeah, I got ya," he husks, leaning down to suck and bite at the skin just below your jaw. He keeps pounding into that spot, making sure to hit it every damn time, and your vision starts to blur again, black dots dancing at the edge of your eyes.
You don't even realize you're about to come until it's crashing into you, a sudden and violent wave that threatens to tear you apart. And Joel can tell, from the way you start to shake, the way your walls are clamping down around him, the way your legs lock around his waist, and the way you're desperately gasping for air, that you're right there.
"There you go, sweetheart," he coos. "You're so fucking close aren't ya? I can feel it. You gonna come on my cock? Huh?Gonna let me feel that tight little pussy coming all over me?"
"Oh god, Joel," you sob, tears welling in your eyes, his words alone pushing you even closer.
"I know, honey. I know. Just let go, baby. C'mon, that's it. You can do it."
And then he's snaking a hand between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing rough, tight circles against the swollen bud, and the pleasure reaches its peak, the coil in your belly snapping, sending you careening off the edge. Stars burst behind your eyelids as the most intense, powerful orgasm of your life tears right through you. Every muscle in your body tenses and contracts, the rush of blood roaring in your ears as white-hot bliss erupts throughout every fiber of your being, your walls pulsing wildly, gushing slick around his cock.
He's there with you every step of the way, murmuring praise in your ear, fucking into you and grinding his cock against your cervix, prolonging your orgasm, extending it for what feels like an eternity. And then you're boneless, spent, and helplessly limp, barely aware of the way he's still rutting against you.
"So good, baby," he rasps, his voice sounding wrecked and broken. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
And then you feel him start to swell and his thrusts become erratic and you know he's right there with you, teetering on the edge, ready to fall. A few more pumps of his hips, his pace frantic and uncoordinated before he pushes himself back up on his knees and pulls out of you with a hiss. He jerks himself for half a second before spilling all over your belly and your cunt, hot, thick ropes of cum splashing against your skin. He grunts and hisses through clenched teeth, a few last drops spilling out onto your pussy, his cock throbbing against you.
You feel completely and utterly destroyed, every part of your body buzzing and tingling, still trembling. And your head feels stuffy and foggy, a hazy, peaceful kind of bliss settling deep in your bones.
Joel slumps down next to you, breathing heavy, a low, rumbling groan escaping his lips. You glance over at him, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He's a sweaty, disheveled mess, and the sight makes your heart ache and swell, a rush of warmth flooding through your body.
He notices you looking at him and turns his head to meet your gaze, his own satisfied smile matching yours. You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of your throat and spilling past your lips in a breathy giggle. Joel's smile spreads even wider, his eyes sparkling.
"What's so funny?" he asks, propping himself up on his elbow and rolling onto his side.
"Nothing, I just," you giggle again, and it's almost a hysterical kind of laugh, a nervous kind of relief flooding through your body. "That was…"
Joel chuckles, brushing a lock of hair out of your face, his fingers trailing across your forehead.
"Yeah, it was," he says, his voice a low rumble.
"And I…I just really like you, Joel. A lot. I don't know. I guess I'm just happy."
His face softens and he stares at you for a moment, his expression so fond and tender that you forget how to breathe for a moment. He leans down and kisses you, his lips gentle and warm before he pulls away. 
"I guess I like you too," he murmurs, his signature smirk playing on his lips. "I dunno about a lot, but-"
"Shut up, you ass" you giggle, slapping his shoulder. "I'm trying to have a moment."
He hums delightedly and presses another kiss to your forehead."M'kay, you have your moment. I'm gonna clean you up, alright?"
You pout but let him go, letting the afterglow of your climax envelop you until he returns a moment later with a warm wet cloth. His touch is tender, gently cleaning between your legs and then wiping the cum from your belly. You're still shaking, every touch sending little aftershocks through your body.
"So," he starts, tossing the cloth into the corner of the room before looking at you expectantly. "Best lay of your life?"
You laugh, your heart bursting at the seams, your cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so hard. 
"Not even close."
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Thank you for reading!! I apologize in advance for any errors I do not enjoy editing!!
tagging those who asked and who might be interested:
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feirceangel · 2 months
Text
Imagine | Mine (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen)
Imagine Feyd discovering that someone has dared to harm what’s his.
Word Count: 1,574
Warnings: possessive!Feyd, objectification, blood, murder, (Feyd is his own psychotic warning in himself to be honest.)
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Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is not known for his mercy.
Ask anyone in the universe who has heard even a whisper of House Harkonnen, and they will warn to tread carefully when dealing with them. If you value your life, you wouldn't even get near them.
And everyone knows Feyd-Rautha is one of the best examples of Harkonnen rage and violence, second only to his uncle, the Baron.
Renowned for his physical prowess as a fighter, his insatiable lust for blood and death, and his determination to rise in power and favour, he is a force to be reckoned with.
So why would anyone dare go against him?
He finds himself asking this as he looks upon your form, head bowed and turned slightly away from him. Hiding something.
Gracefully and predatory as a panther, he approaches you slowly.
"My darling.." his voice rasps.
Normally you greet him immediately, recognizing his footfalls from down the hall. You would smile at your na-Baron and ask him how his day went if you did not spend it with him.
You are oddly subdued tonight.
His eyes, always searching, follow a drop which falls from your cheek, landing on the cold concrete floor. Instantly, he is before you, grasping your chin in his strong hand. He tilts your head up, none too gently, and examines your tear-stained face.
"What happened?" His already raspy voice is deeper, darker.
Feyd is no stranger to your tears. In fact, he often revels in their presence, trying all sorts of things to make you cry. But he hasn't done anything to illicit that response today.
When you don't offer an answer right away, his grip tightens, squishing your cheeks together.
"Speak."
His voice holds no room for disobedience. You nod your head and he releases you, stepping back slightly.
You shake slightly as you begin, "I am sorry, na-Baron."
Feyd's anger is growing. You only call him that in public or when you are disturbed.
"Do not apologize. Explain," he can't stop himself from hissing.
"I took a walk today," you begin slowly. "Just to the training grounds to see if you were there. But I didn't see you so I walked back. He stopped me and-"
"'He'?" Feyd echoes.
"Richter," you supply the name of one of the Baron's top generals. "He grabbed me and said I was a no-good whore who should've been disposed of long ago."
Anger swirls with Feyd's chest at this news. Of course, many people have said harsh and often cruel things to you. But you always kept your head high and ignored the jabs. You’re always so strong.
This is different, he can tell.
"What else? You are not one to cry over a mere insult," he brings his hand up to swipe a tear from your soft cheek. You lean into his touch, relishing in its familiarity.
You inhale deeply, "He struck me without warning, na-Baron."
In his oft colourless word, all Feyd now sees is red.
"Where?" His voice is so low it's almost impossible to hear.
You shake as you lower the collar of your dress to reveal a swollen area on your shoulder, "Here."
His dark eyes flicker to yours, bidding you to continue.
You move your hand to your face and gently touch your tearstained cheek, "And here."
Feyd's hand clenches into a fist. He bends closer to examine your face, noting the slight swelling and the way you bow your head. He places his hand on the back of your head, angling your face upwards. A featherlight kiss is applied to your skin so softly you can barely feel it.
Your master and lover rises to his full height, "Rest my darling, I shall return shortly."
He turns to leave but you reach out and grab his arm. Feyd stops and turns to stare at you.
"Please, na-Baron. Don't hurt him."
He scowls at your request, "He has hurt you. Death is his reward."
"He has done nothing that you have not," you say. "I have known worse pain from your own hands.”
Feyd shakes his head and grips your arms, dragging you forward to stand with your bodies touching.
"Only I can touch what's mine. Only I can hurt you how I see fit. You take the pain only I give you." He dips his head close to your ear, breath sending shivers down your spine. “Do you understand?”
"Of course, my lord na-Baron," your voice is breathy.
You are intoxicated by his closeness, the dangerous poise with which he caries himself, the possessiveness of his words and the truth of them.
"Say it."
"I'm yours alone, Feyd."
He crashes his lips onto yours, teeth clashing and lips bruising from the force of it. His hand squeezes your neck as he kisses you. When he finally parts, leaving you breathless, he takes a moment to admire you. His thumb brushes against your lips before he turns once more.
"That swine sealed his fate when he laid hands on what's mine," Feyd growls as he stalks out of the room.
He returns mere minutes later, dragging an incredibly nervous Richter behind him. With a violent shove, he pushes the frightened man to stand before you.
"I heard you disrespected my darling," Feyd points to the floor. "Kneel."
Richter obeys without hesitation. He knows how quick Feyd is to anger… and how few survive it.
"Kiss her shoe."
The man's eyes flicker to yours.
"Now," Feyd places his foot on Richter's back, forcing him down.
Shakily, he presses his lips to your shoe with a mumbled apology. It does nothing to sate Feyd-Rautha's wrath.
With practised ease, Feyd lands a harsh kick to the man's ribs. He repeats the action until the man is a sobbing mess splayed before your feet like an offering.
You regard him coldly, remembering the bite of his hand across your face.
“Please! Please forgive me, my lord!” Richter manages to sob coherent words. Spit and blood dribbles from his mouth pathetically.
“You have insulted me,” Feyd states. “Hurt what’s mine, belittled what’s mine.”
The man’s hand reaches towards your foot, as if you could spare him from the savage that is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.
Feyd crushes his hand beneath his shoe, grinding down eliciting a whimper of pain, as he steps before you and above his prey.
He is regal in his violence, eyes shining with possessive obsession.
“Dear one,” he places his hand on your arm before handing you one of his blades. “Help me.”
He smirks as you grip the knife tightly. Your eyes meet his.
Feyd knows you’d do anything he asked of you, just as he knows he’d burn the universe to ashes if you asked him too.
“Of course, my lord,” you say, kneeling by the hurt man. “If it pleases you.”
Feyd’s grin reveals blackened teeth, “You please me, dearest. Now, make him suffer for insulting me and mine.”
The first cut is shallow, uncertain as it travels down the man’s bare arm. Feyd tsks his disapproval.
You adjust your grip and slash again, quickly this time, hitting deep and pointedly. The man screams out and thrashes, but Feyd is upon him in a second. He holds Richter still as you unleash your rage upon him.
Feyd watches you draw blood with a pleasure he’s never experienced before. Relishing in your bared teeth and angry snarls, he commits this to his memory.
He halts your hand as the man ceases his thrashing. With a predatory smile, Feyd guides your hand with his, penetrating the blade deep into the man’s throat.
You watch the man loose his life, as you pant with exertion.
“You have done well, my pet,” Feyd praises, removing the knife from your hand and tossing it aside. He places his hand atop your head.
“Thank you, Feyd.”
He moves his hand down your back and presses his face into your blood stained neck, inhaling deeply. Your hands come around to grasp his shoulders, bringing him close to you. He wraps his strong arms around you, holding you like a lover would.
When he sits up, you lunge forward, capturing his lips with yours. Ignoring the blood and the dead body on the floor, you guide Feyd towards the bed, hands leaving bloody marks on his pale skin.
“Please let me repay you,” you beg, tugging at his shirt. “Allow me to repent.”
“You don’t need to repent, love. But you can keep begging.”
He allows you to disrobe him and press him down onto the soft bedding.
In all honesty, Feyd craves this battle of dominance between you. He could overpower you in an instant, yet the hold you have over him has him bending to your will.
You need only beg and he would take a knee and worship at your feet.
And you know it.
You know he craves this, needs it like an addict. He adores the pain you can lavish upon him, adores the meek demeanour you show to everyone else, adores the side of you that matches his own carnal desires tenfold, adores the way you gladly bleed for him.
He adores you.
And you worship each other in a wicked ritual of blood, sweat, and tears each night.
And he’d never let anyone take this away from him- take you away from him.
He’d kill anyone who dared try.
~~~
[A/n- thanks for reading! Please let me know if you liked it :)]
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melzula · 2 months
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zuko confiding in sokka to be his wingman to try to get together with you?
a/n: sokka sharing his back bending skills with zuko we love to see it. also this takes place post-war
summary: Zuko isn’t sure how to tell you he likes you, so he looks to Sokka for guidance
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Zuko watches longingly from across the room as you dance with Katara and enjoy the night’s festivities. Your eyes sparkle with joy and your smile is so infectious it has everyone around you beaming. Everyone seems to want your attention, and so he hadn’t been able to speak to you much since the party began, but he desperately wants to be near you.
“You know you look like a total creep when you stand in the corner and stare, right?” Sokka notes, interrupting Zuko’s sulking.
“I’m not staring!” The Fire Lord says defensively, but he knows he’s not fooling anyone.
“Come on, buddy, it’s a party! Lighten up! Go mingle!”
“I don’t want to mingle,” Zuko grumbles indignantly, “I just want to talk to y/n.”
“Then go talk to her!” Sokka encourages as if it’s the most easiest thing in the world. “It’s not like you haven’t talked to her before. She’s our friend!”
“I know that,” the boy bites irritably. Deflating, he sighs, “But it’s different this time.”
“What do you mean?” Sokka says, his demeanor morphing into that of a more serious tone.
“I… I think I have feelings for her.”
“You what?!” Sokka exclaims, earning a few puzzled stares from nearby partygoers. Zuko sends his friend a harsh look and urges him to be quiet.
“I know, I know. What am I thinking? She’s perfect, she’d never go for someone like me,” he admits in quiet defeat. “It’s stupid of me to feel this way.”
“What? No way, that’s not true,” his friend insists encouragingly. “You’re a great guy! You just need to work on your romance game.”
“My what?” Zuko retorts skeptically.
“Your romance game! Look, if you want y/n to like you then you have to work your charm.”
“I don’t have any charm to work.”
“Sure you do, it’s easy! Take it from your old buddy Sokka, the ladies love me. Just follow my advice and by the end of the night y/n will be dying for you to ask her out!”
Zuko is skeptical of his friend’s words and hesitant to take Sokka’s offer of help, but he knows he’s hopeless on his own and there aren’t many other options. With a relenting sigh, Zuko gives his friend an agreeing nod.
“What should I do first?”
“Just follow my lead,” the boy says with a wink before loudly calling you and his sister over. Zuko does his best to mask his embarrassment and puts on his best attempt of a smile as you and Katara saunter over arm-in-arm.
“Hi, guys!” You greet cheerily. “King Kue really knows how to throw a party, doesn’t he?”
“He sure does! Say, that’s a really nice dress,” Sokka compliments before harshly elbowing Zuko’s side. “Don’t you agree, Zuko?”
“Uh, yes, it is,” he stammers nervously, his face immediately turning red. “You look very beautiful.”
“Thank you,” you reply with a bashful smile. “You don’t think it’s too much?”
“Not at all,” he says earnestly. “You could never be too much.”
“You know, y/n, Zuko here was just telling me how much he wants to dance,” your friend informs you much to the Fire Lord’s dismay.
“What?! That’s not-“
“Oh, well, would you like to dance with me, Zuko?” You ask with a careful smile, delicately holding your hand out for him to take. His protests immediately die in his throat as he takes in your gentle features, the world almost seeming to come to a halt as he focuses on you before him. Your beauty almost physically pains him, and he wished he knew how to tell you this without coming off like a total creep.
Zuko hesitates before taking your hand, knowing that whatever happens next could alter your friendship forever, but the idea of physical touch is almost too tempting, and so he gently grabs hold of your hand and guides you back to the dance floor.
The musicians play a melody of traditional Earth Kingdom waltzes, and despite knowing nothing about dancing Zuko does his best to match your pace. His hands are suffocatingly warm against your skin, but you never once complain. You say nothing when he steps on your toes repeatedly or gets caught on your dress, and in spite of how awkward you both look compared to the other couples on the floor you seem to be having the most fun out of them all.
“You’re doing wonderful,” you encourage, giggling when he missteps and nearly trips over his own feet.
“I’m awful at this,” he argues exasperatedly. “I’m sorry you got stuck with such a lousy dance partner.”
“I don’t care about how good you can dance. I’m just happy you’re dancing with me,” you admit, looking away bashfully to hide your smile. “I haven’t really been able to speak to you much tonight, so I appreciate being with you now.”
Over your shoulder, Zuko spots Sokka from across the way. The water tribe boy waves his arms frantically and gestures for Zuko to make his move. The Fire Lord simply scowls before swallowing down his nerves and looking back to you.
“Y/n,” he calls faintly, gently guiding your face to look back up at him. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you all night, but it’s been hard. You’re so full of life, you draw people in with just your smile, and so I didn’t think I’d get the chance to finally be alone with you and tell you that- well, that I have feelings for you. I want to be the one that makes you smile, the one that dances with you at every party.”
“Zuko,” you murmur softly, taken aback by his confession. He takes your surprise as rejection and looks down with a dejected smile.
“I know, we’re friends. It’s strange of me to think we could be more, but I just needed to tell you.”
“No, that’s not it,” you quickly correct him, “I-I’m just surprised because I didn’t think you felt the same way I did.”
"You mean… you like me back?” Zuko asks in disbelief.
“Of course I do! What’s not to like?” You tease with a smile. “All night I was hoping you’d come up to me, and even though Katara said I should be the one to make the first move I was too scared to try. I’m glad you told me because I feel the same.”
You feel as if your heart could burst when he carefully tilts your chin up to meet your lips in a kiss. Ever since he joined your group you’d wanted nothing more than for him to see you as you saw him, and after months of what you thought was one-sided pining it seems Zuko has felt the same way about you all along. It took some time for things to come out in the open, but now that they are you couldn’t be any happier.
And unbeknownst to either of you, Katara and Sokka share high-fives behind your back in celebration of their successful plan.
| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy
| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303
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drchucktingle · 1 year
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Something I’ve been curious about if it wouldn’t break the bit: are you one buckaroo or several sharing a name and persona?
greetings bud thank you for asking FIRST OF ALL want to say to you or anyone reading this post that i am not upset over this question and i am not upset with you. you have kindness in your trot and i know you are just asking to prove love in your own way. buds reading this please do not harass this person in fact maybe give them a follow or a like, they are trying their best.
OKAY NOW THAT IS OUT OF THE WAY i will talk on my feelings of this with simple statement:
this is not a bit.
i understand it can be difficult to accept this for some, especially in world where absurdity and cynical humor is so popular, but i am very sincere. even though i make jokerman jokes sometimes, even in my writing, tinglers are not supposed to be funny as a concept. if you laugh at them that is TOTALLY OKAY i understand this way when confronted with something out of the box but that is not the point of them at all. the point is that LOVE IS REAL for everyone (there are other points but that is a broad one)
now on to why i trot my trot in this way. first off is to protect my privacy this is simple enough. when i talk on son jon or sweet barbara or any other way i am adding a layer of secrets by changing names or relations or towns but that is just a fancy outfit for the real truth. i am NOT creating a character, i am protecting myself.
second and more important is that when i TALK IN MY UNIQUE WAY i am expressing myself without masking, which is something old chuck does every single day out there in the world as someone on the autism spectrum. i am VERY GOOD AT MASKING you would probably not know chuck was autistic when talking to me unless you were a close bud. but unfortunately this masking way creates very real tension in my body. i have trotted with CHRONIC PAIN for most of my life heading to emergency rooms where kind and handsome t-rex doctors could not figure out what the heck was goin on. basically LIVED in the dang emergency room. eventually chuck learned i carried my body TOO TIGHT from masking all the time, but what i realized is that allowing myself a space to type freely without way of punctuation or other restrictions and LETTING MY HEART SING to just be myself without masking made this tension release. pain started going away. GRAND IRONY of course is that when im trotting as chuck i wear a pink mask to take off my OTHER MASK of a neurotypical bud.
that is why i protect my way of speaking freely as well. if someone says 'well you need to talk like this right now' i stand tall and say NO BUD THIS IS MY SPACE AND I WILL EXPRESS MYSELF IN THIS WAY AND YOU AN TROT ON IF YOU WANT. this is firm boundary for me and my health.
anyway buckaroo to sum that up again: yes i am one person and this is not a bit
if you want to know more about my way on the autism spectrum i wrote a tingler about how it feels to have others say you are 'playing a character' and not actually neurodivergent. i think tumblr buds might enjoy so i will add it down here LOVE IS REAL thank you for your question
NOT POUNDED BY THE PHYSICAL MANIFESTATION OF SOMEONE ELSE'S DOUBT IN MY PLACE ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM BECAUSE DENYING SOMEONE'S PERSONAL JOURNEY AND IDENTITY LIKE THAT IS INCREDIBLY RUDE SO NO THANKS
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emma-needs-attention · 5 months
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I don’t shave every day. It’s not that I don’t “need” to; I have very dark, dense facial hair that grows quickly and remains pretty visible after shaving. When I do shave, I don’t try to cover it with makeup (beyond some powder to reduce redness). In most other ways I present very feminine, but I always have fairly obvious facial hair.
And it makes me feel terrible.
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I started electrolysis a couple months ago. It’s excruciatingly painful, expensive, and it takes forever. In an hour-long session, my electrologist is able to remove hair in only a small region (about 1 square inch). A few weeks later, much of that hair comes back. I am told that it will take two to three years of regular treatments to remove it entirely. On top of that, I apparently have a condition called Post Inflammatory Hyperpigmentation, which causes the skin in affected areas to darken after treatment. For nearly two months after completing a single pass over my upper lip, my mustache was more visible than it had ever been, despite having significantly less hair.
And it made me feel terrible.
I know this is the best way for me to permanently remove my facial hair, but I just canceled all of my upcoming sessions and at the moment I have no plans to begin again.
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If I could pay to have my facial hair instantly and completely removed I would empty my savings account. I am intensely aware of it any time I go out in public. If it makes me so uncomfortable, why do I not do more to hide it?
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I feel incredibly privileged for a trans woman. I have a loving, supportive family. I have a well-paying job. I live in a very accepting area. I have never had a single person say anything negative to me about my gender identity, which was certainly not what I was expecting when I came out. It is important to me that I be visibly queer, and in my privileged position I am able to do that without fear. A year ago I didn’t think I would ever transition; now I want people to know that I’m trans.
I am disappointed with myself for wanting to remove my facial hair, for changing my voice. I am determined not to have to do more work than a cis person does. Cis women don’t have to shave their face every day. Cis men don’t have to shave their face every day. Why should I? This is who I am, what my body does. Shouldn’t I be proud of that? Am I not supposed to love myself the way I am?
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But by that logic, why am I even transitioning in the first place?
I am doing more work than a cis person does. Cis people don’t transition, and transitioning takes effort. I know that there are cis people, both men and women, who do shave every day. Am I lying to myself? I’m a trans woman; aren’t I supposed to want to get rid of my facial hair? Shouldn’t I be trying harder? Doesn’t this give me dysphoria? Am I pretending not to have dysphoria so I don’t have to put in the effort? Does the fact that I’m not trying harder make me… I don’t know, less trans? Non-binary? Is it ok for me to call myself a trans woman? Am I lying to myself?
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As a woman who was a man until thirty, there are things about my body that I must accept, that I won’t be able to change no matter how much money I dump into my transition. I’m tall, I have broad shoulders, I have large hands. No amount of surgery or hormones will change these things.
But there are many things that I can change, and while none of them are requirements for being a woman, they may still be changes that I want to make. Where do I stop? Am I finished transitioning when I’ve done everything that is physically possible? My goal isn’t to “pass,” at least not in the way that word is generally used. In a time when cis women are being assaulted because people think they’re trans—because they don’t “pass” as women—the idea of what it means to pass becomes blurry. Often when we say that we want to pass, what we really mean is that we want to be conventionally beautiful.
I am a woman. Therefore, I look like a woman. My transition goal is to pass as myself. I’ve spent the last year trying to figure out who I am so I can look like her. I don’t care whether people see me and think “that’s a woman.” I want to be able to look in the mirror and think “that’s me.” But it can be extremely difficult to separate your own image of yourself from society’s idea of what you should look like. Am I self-conscious about the size of my body because it doesn’t feel like me, or because I’ve been told that women should be smaller? There are tall cis women, there are broad-shouldered cis women, there are cis women with large hands. Those traits don’t make them less womanly.
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For the aspects of my body that I do have control over, I am stuck wondering whether I am changing things to become myself, or changing them because I have internalized that the way I am is wrong. At the moment, facial feminization surgery is something that I think I might like to do. But how do I know that I want to do it for the right reasons? I don’t hate my face, but when I catch a glimpse of myself from certain angles I can’t help but think that it isn’t feminine enough. What I should be asking is if it’s Emma enough, but how can I know that? How do I know who I’m supposed to be?
I feel like I was supposed to be a cis woman, but… why? Who am I to say that I wasn’t supposed to be trans? That I wasn’t supposed to transition at thirty, to have both a male puberty and a female one? Being trans has made me more self-aware, more open-minded, more empathetic. The totality of my experience is what makes me who I am. Maybe there’s a world in which I was assigned female, maybe there’s a world in which I was put on puberty blockers as a kid. But the girl in those worlds isn’t me.
Loving yourself and wanting to change are two feelings that can coexist. I tend to think of body positivity as simply accepting yourself as you are, but it is more nuanced than that. As a trans person, who I am inside is not the same as who I am outside. Which one am I supposed to love? I do love myself, but I also love who I could be. I’m transitioning so that someday they’ll be the same person.
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Over the past year I have become both my biggest supporter and my biggest critic. I constantly tell myself how pretty I am, how brave I am, how fucking cool I am (hey, nobody else is saying it and it’s true). This forced positivity has been fantastic for me. I can confidently say that I truly love myself for the first time in my life. But I sometimes feel guilty that I don’t love myself more.
I can’t help but stare at myself in the mirror all the time now. I actually bought a new mirror so I didn’t have to walk as far to do so. I’ve taken more selfies than I did in my entire pre-transition life. After many months on HRT, I finally see myself in my reflection. But my eyes refuse to focus on my stubble. Sometimes I catch myself thinking “I’m going be so beautiful once I get rid of this facial hair,” and it feels like a betrayal. Fuck you Emma, I’m already gorgeous.
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