digitalpup444

[digitalpup444]

on repression, shame and intimacy issues

[digitalpup444]

Happy Trails

“You always get this wet for strange men, sugar?” Kappa asks as he traces his fingers up and down the seam of your cunt. He’s eager to get a look at it, to see all that soft and swollen, wet flesh. “It’s not safe to talk to strangers. Didn’t your mama tell you?”

Tags - dark, noncon, smut, unprotected piv, creampie, fingering, scaryfucking, stalking, kappa drowns you as he fucks you, creepy and eerie setting, breeding kink talks, hair pulling, orgasms that you dread, murdery shit, idk idk

A/N - hey hey :) we’re gonna have some fun with the various culkin characters in this creepy ass murder cabin. For my dear @cvntoid, who I love so much. I hope this fucking hurts you

Oh, how you love hiking. You love biking more, but apparently this trail isn’t very biker friendly. It’s alright, though. You really don’t mind. Any excuse to get outside is a good one.  

You rub a little sunscreen onto your face before you go, then tie your shoes. You check your phone one last time, trying to see if any texts have gone through, but none have. So you leave it on the table before you leave, then lock the cabin door. 

It’s a little exhilarating, no? Leaving your phone at the cabin, in some place you’re not familiar with at all. But really, what are you gonna do though, right? There’s no service anyway. 

You pull an old, weathered map out of your pocket, the corners of the lamination are bent and peeling to hell. You found it in a little drawer in the kitchenette. There’s this trail that begins not too far from your cabin, and it loops right around the lake. It looks like it’ll spit you out right about where you entered. 

And off you go, with your little backpack and everything, your water bottle looped so nicely around one of the straps. You’re wearing this pretty bandana you stole from a friend - oh, how you love her. She’s always worrying about ticks when you go on your hikes. She won’t mind her bandana being stolen if it’s for this cause, you think. 

You descend a couple of steep steps and head right for the trees. It takes you a moment to find the trail itself, half-buried beneath long grass and other tangled plants. They stopped taking care of this place years ago, when…well. When it happened. Supposedly. Maybe. Maybe not. Some folks will tell you the money ran out is all, that the property as a whole got too expensive to keep up with and maintain for season after season. 

But you don’t think that’s true. A lot of people don’t, really. There are some volunteers that keep this place up and running - well, parts of it. Your cabin, for one. Your special little cabin, the urban legend that it is. Something about some terrible man doing terrible things to women in this cabin, you don’t exactly know. You’ve heard about him drowning them in the lake, heard about him mounting their heads on the fence post outside. There’s so many versions of the story at this point, and who knows which is true? Maybe some strange cryptid hurt those women, if those women even existed. Who knows. 

Rumors, that’s all they are. There’s no proof of much of anything happening here, just the stories told by word of mouth for decades at this point. 

Rumors, but you can’t deny the way your skin bristled when you first entered the cabin. That horrible turn back NOW feeling you got, not unlike the feeling that comes when you open that one closet in your home. It could all be placebo, though. Right? Do you think that it is? 

Finally, you find the start of the trail, though it’s overgrown. Not that you mind at all, you’re an appreciator of nature. It’s a strange temperature outside, sort of humid and chilly at the same time, though not unpleasant. But it is…creepy. All of these plants are lifeless. They’re lifeless, not dead. They’re colorless, their shades of green all muted. And there’s this fog that obstructs your view ahead, and it curls around your feet. Maybe it’s just because it’s overcast, or something. You don’t know.

Isn’t it odd how there’s no sign of life out here? You’ve not heard one bird chirp, and no insects buzz in your ear. The bushes rustle, though. When you look ahead you catch a glimpse of something - a figure, maybe. Something humanoid.

Oh, it makes you feel horrible to see that. Why is that, do you think? It’s normal to see others on hikes, sure. And you’re probably not the only one to stay in the cabins around here. But it’s off season, though. 

You can do this. You’re going to walk right past the figure, and you’re going to grin politely as you always do. Your smile is beautiful, you know. So big, so bright. Lots of people love it. 

…Are you okay, honey? You seem nervous as you approach the figure, with your shaky, trembling hands. What is it, sweetheart? Maybe you’re a little out of your depth here, perhaps? Not as brave as you say you are, huh?

The figure’s image sharpens in the fog - it’s - he is a long, elegant man who moves so smooth and cool, with his long strides. Things come into your view one at a time. His arms first, and then his hair, all long and wavy, curling where it hits his shoulders. He’s broad and slim at the same time, wearing a worn, maroon shirt with a deep V cut that shows off the toned muscles in his chest, tucked into his brown trousers. 

You look down as you walk near him, whispering the softest hi. “Hello,” he says back. Before you can sneak past, though, he turns his foot and catches yours, tripping you. You land with a thud, hissing in pain. The man whips around, “Oh, woah there. Watch where you’re walking, sugar,” he tells you as he crouches down. He takes your hand in his and helps you to your feet, and this is when you see it - his beautiful, beautiful deep set blue eyes, so striking and fucking captivating. They’re sharp in a way that matches the beautiful blade of his jawline, his long nose.

“You okay there?” he asks. 

It takes you a moment to snap out of it and gather yourself. “S-sorry,” you stutter. “I’m fine - new to these trails. And uh, thank you. You didn’t have to - fuck.” You wince in pain as you shift your weight, realizing you must’ve twisted your ankle on the way down, or something. 

“I insist,” the man replies, still holding onto you. He’s got these long, spindly veins in his forearms, you notice. His fingers drag up and down your skin, tickling you a little. “New to the trail, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m, uh–” 

Why’d you stop? Kappa wonders the same thing, tilting his head, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. 

“Just new here.” 

Smart. Very smart, sugar. It’s good that it’s occurred to you that you’re giving a little too much information to this strange man. Before it’s too late or you say too much, right? Withholding will keep you safe. It’s never a bad idea, of course. 

“Hi, just new here. I’m Kappa,” he says, touching his chest. Kappa smiles in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes, and he’s still holding your arm. He’s pressing his fingernails into your skin just so, not enough to pinch or to hurt but it feels bad that they’re there, in some awful way. It makes your stomach twist. “I know the trail. I’ll walk with you.” 

Fingernails. There’s something so unbearably intimate about Kappa’s fingernails, pressing into your skin, gently scratching up and down your spine. They scare you too, though. What unsettles you most is feeling your own heartbeat pulse against him - a steady, involuntary throb against his fingertips. You hate that.

“No, thank you,” you tell him softly, tugging on your arm. Kappa still won’t drop it. Not yet.

“Why not?” he asks. 

Why not? No means no. It should end here, but it doesn’t. No, Kappa’s looking you in the eyes, his icy stare unblinking as he traces the tendons in your wrist with his middle two fingers. That horrible tickle it causes - don’t you hate it? Is your skin starting to crawl yet? 

He smiles a little, but not with any sort of kindness. “These woods can be dangerous, you know. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors,” Kappa says, voice low and measured. “Do you think they’re real?” he asks, “Do you think someone might hurt you here?”

“I…” 

You close your mouth, words evaporating under his stare. You hate the way he looks at you with his terrible, gorgeous eyes. Like oleander in boom, so beautiful and so toxic, every bit of it. There’s something so very dark about this man. Kappa. It penetrates deep into his guts and flows through his bloodstream like poison, and perhaps it is. 

“You’re very pretty, you know. What’s your name?” 

You give him your name - unsure why you do. Kappa repeats it and hums eerily, smiling. “Oh, my friend. It’d be so easy to hurt you,” he purrs softly, tilting his head. “Do you think anyone would hear you scream ? Do you think anyone heard - heard them scream?”

“I - I don’t know,” you stutter. “But I’d like to get back to my walk now, if you don’t mind.”

There’s a pause that hangs heavily, and then he lets go. “Sure, of course,” Kappa says with a slow blink, like nothing happened. “I don’t mind at all.”

He steps back, hands in his pockets now. “Maybe we’ll bump into each other again or something,” Kappa says with that same soft lilt, already turning, already vanishing. “Happy trails, my friend.”

With that, he drops your hand and walks away, leaving you feeling charmed and sort of disgusted all at once. The first step you take has you gasping in pain, your poor, throbbing ankle. You look over your shoulder briefly, and Kappa’s there. Watching you. 

Kappa thinks you move in an interesting way, even without your little limp. But oh, how he likes that. It’s important to him that you’re hurt, even if it’s not so bad. Even if you pretend you’re alright. It’s gonna make this whole process that much easier. You’re not gonna be walking for too much longer, he reckons, and he thinks it’d be best to follow you, watch you carefully. He doesn’t want you hurt, of course. 

…Maybe he does. Kappa bets you bleed so pretty, just like they all did. He can still feel your soft skin under his fingertips and it has his cock twitching in his trousers. You’re so soft, you know. All that woman. Kappa thinks you’d take his seed nicely, and he imagines it - you so beautiful, swollen with his child. There’s nothing wrong with Kappa thinking this. It’s not perverse or unnatural or creepy. He’d just be doing his part, biologically speaking, and what’s so terrible about that? 

When you look over your shoulder a couple more times as you continue your walk, are you bothered to see that he’s still there, following you? Kappa would assume as much, even though he maintains his distance. Oh, you. You’re unnerved, certainly. Kappa can see by the way that you pull your shoulders back and stand up a little straighter that you’re trying to look and feel confident. That’s good, darling. Fake it til you make it, or whatever the fuck. 

It was inevitable that at some point your curious nature would get you into trouble. It got those other girls into trouble, too, and you’re not all that dissimilar from them. Not in the slightest. They too were drawn to dangerous things, dangerous men, and look where it landed them. 

Kappa watches you stop to drink some water. Good, that’s good. You’re a healthy girl, very smart, pausing to look at that fucked up ankle of yours. Kappa’s sure it’s swollen now, all bruised and stiff. The added stress of hiking is likely making it worse. And he watches you continue on, smirking when you approach the fork in the trail. No, it’s not marked on the map. You confused, poor little lamb. Where are you going to go, sugar? 

To the left, okay. Sure. And that’s going to take you right toward the little lake - it’s deceptively shallow looking, but Kappa knows how deep those dark waters go. You’re walking down the hill - Kappa’s still a good distance behind you - and you’re sitting on the dock. He likes that spot, too. It’s a good spot for, well…

That wood’s so rotten, sweetheart. Careful, now. You’re taking off your shoe and putting your foot in the cold water, probably hoping to ease the swelling. That’ll help, absolutely. Very good.

Fuck, you’re so nervous. You’ve been avoiding checking behind yourself for Kappa, because you don’t know if it would make you feel better or worse knowing that he’s gone or still there, still following you. You wish you didn’t meet him at all, honestly. Now you’ve got this ugly, awful, nagging feeling deep in your gut and it all goes back to him. You try so hard to tell yourself that you’re not afraid, and even if you are, you try to tell yourself that you like it. It’s what you asked for, anyway. 

But it’s different when you’re actually confronted with it, right? This fantasy or whatever you could call it has lived in your head for so long and it’s been largely unchallenged up until now. It’s scary when it becomes realized, at least partially, and it’s scary when you lose control. Because it’s not just yours anymore. It might be Kappa’s too. 

Speak of the devil. The dock rocks as Kappa steps onto it, buckling with his weight. You jump and whip around, and quickly pull your foot out of the icy water. 

“You’re uh–” Kappa says, “You’re not supposed to be down here, are you?”

“Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn’t realize it was private property. I’m going.” 

Kappa laughs, taking a seat next to you. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. “No, it’s just…nothing, sugar.” He loves the lake, and he thinks about drowning you in it. All that endless, black water, so dark he can’t even see his reflection. “Are you lost?” he asks.

“No, I’m not lost. I just needed a break, that’s all.” 

Kappa nods. “It’s your foot, isn’t it? Is it hurting? Can I take a look?”

You’re silent as you turn and adjust, showing your swollen ankle to him. You’re not sure why you do such a thing. Kappa takes it in both of his hands, inspecting it with his brow pinched together, two gorgeous little lines appearing between them. He twists your ankle, rolls it in a circle. He bends it back enough to hurt you, and how pretty is that sound, you whimpering and struggling against him. Yeah, sweetheart? It’s hurting you? You know what Kappa would like to do to you, right now, is dangle you upside down with your poor, injured ankle in his hand. He’d dip you in the water, and he’d chuckle at the way you splash him as you squirm and fight for air. 

“It’s just a sprain, is all,” Kappa murmurs, placing your foot on his lap. You take it back promptly and put your sock on, your sneaker following. You stand up quickly, wobbling when you put too much weight on your hurt ankle. “Woah there, friend. Where are you off to?” Kappa stands up quickly, again grabbing your wrist. You hate that, truly. His hands are so warm, and that should be nice, but it’s…it’s just not.

“I’d like to get back, now.” 

“Then I’ll walk you there,” he says, leading you back toward the trail. He’s squeezing you just a little too hard, any harder and you’ll start to bruise. That’d be a sight, Kappa thinks. He loves bruises. Loves to dig his thumbs into them, then tenderly kiss them after. Kappa turns to look at you, making an amused face at your terrified expression. “And you’re not gonna say no to me this time, yeah? No, of course not. Because - I mean, think about it, right? Anything could happen to you,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s just not safe, sweet pea.”

Kappa’s glad you’re not fighting him on this. Smart move. He’s glad you’re not trying to run, either, as that’d be even more stress on that ankle of yours. He wouldn’t mind it so much, though. Kappa lives for the chase, honestly. Sometimes he gets lucky and one of you girls will try to run from him. He’ll give her a few seconds of a head start before he catches up, and Jesus fuck. You should see the look on her face when she realizes she’s backed into a corner. Real horrorshow sort of thing.

It’s not that you’re too trusting or too naive. Or, maybe you are. Nevertheless, you are enchanted by Kappa, enchanted by the way he scares you in his special way that penetrates deep into your bones. You’re an odd one, you know. You really are. And it’s going to get you into trouble sooner or later, though likely the former. 

Kappa walks you back the way you came. “Which cabin, sugar?” You point in its direction, and Kappa chuckles. “Ohh, this cabin,” he drawls. “You’re a brave one, aren’t you?”

You shrug. “I guess.”

He worries about you, you know. He does. You’re so beautiful and all alone out here. What if you end up like the others? You’d be powerless to stop it, so vulnerable and fragile. It’d be a terrible thing 

Kappa watches you reach into your pocket to pull out the little silver key that opens the front door, and he likes the tree-shaped keychain attached to it. “Thanks for chaperoning me, I guess. I’m just gonna go upstairs and sleep off my foot - ankle. Whatever. You’ve been really kind,” you tell Kappa, avoiding eye contact as you unlock the door and push it open. You hop inside and quickly close it, but Kappa places a palm on the door, stopping you before you can shut it completely. 

“How’re you gonna get up the stairs?” he asks. 

“I’ll just–”

Kappa pushes the door open and invites himself inside. His eyes are wide and he inhales deeply, like he can still smell the iron, all the blood…

He helps you up the stairs, his wide palm guiding your lower back the entire time. He knows his way around the cabin, these tight walls and low ceilings. He’ll take you to the bedroom, the same bedroom he took those other girls, and he’ll–

“The bathroom, actually. I want to take a bath first.” 

Be his guest, why not. Kappa helps you into the bathroom, then leans against the doorframe as he watches you kneel at the tub. You plug the drain with a stopper and turn on the water, then pause. He’s still here. 

“You’ve been a big help. Thank you, Kappa.”

“Of course, sugar.” 

You smile, awkward and tight-lipped, and Kappa smiles back, arms crossed over his chest. You give him a little wave - not unfriendly, just a subtle cue. A polite dismissal. Thanks again, you can go now, Kappa. Really, you’ve overstayed your welcome. 

Kappa chuckles, low and amused, then reaches back and locks the door with a click. 

Your blood runs cold. 

“Kappa,” you say, voice as firm as it can be, though it still wavers more than you’d like.

“You could slip, honey,” Kappa replies. “And I don’t want that.” 

“You need to leave. Now.” 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck. There’s nowhere to run, no way out but through Kappa, who’s now approaching you at the tub. You tense instinctively, squeezing the ledge of the tub. “Let’s get those clothes off,” he says. 

You don’t move. Kappa leans over you and takes your jaw in his big palm, sniffs, and rolls his head from shoulder to shoulder, cracking every joint in his neck. “Don’t make me ask twice now. Won’t be good.” 

You have to surrender yourself to it, to Kappa. You know this. Complying usually works out better than fighting, or so you think.  

You breathe shakily as you pull off your shirt, bandana coming off with it, and Kappa takes care to undo your bra himself. He crouches behind you with his strong, long nose pressed against your head, and he inhales your scent deeply as his hands slide along the curves of your sides and belly. Your stomach flips as he unbuttons your pants, and you watch in disbelief as his hand finds that zipper, and pulls it down, down.

Kappa shoves the waistband of your pants and panties down your plump hips and thighs, letting out a hum as he sees you for what you are. You’re a beautiful thing, you, with your soft curves and gorgeous skin. Kappa especially loves that when he runs his long, spindly fingers down your spine, your skin erupts in goosebumps. Is that because you’re cold, darling, or because you’re scared? Maybe terrified, even? Your breaths are getting sharper now, heart pounding so hard you can feel it in your throat. If Kappa were to wrap his hands around his neck, he’d feel your pulse as well. 

Kappa slides his fingers up the back of your neck and into your hair, where he grabs a fistful of it. He shuts off the water, and it’s eerily silent as you hear him unzipping his pants, the fabric rustling as he shoves them down his slim hips. “Some of them say,” Kappa begins, “That this is how he did it, you know. Drowned each of those poor girls in the bathtub, one by one by…one.” 

The steam rising from the tub feels like a foreshadowing of what’s to come. Tears quickly build and then fall down your cheeks, splashing into the water below. Kappa laughs silently, then asks, “How do you think it felt, baby?”

He’s still got you held by your scalp, but now his other hand is sliding down your back, middle two fingers tracing over your ass, traveling over your tight hole until he finds your cunt and oh, would you look at that. You’re wet. Not just wet, darling, you’re fucking soaked. 

“You always get this wet for strange men, sugar?” Kappa asks as he traces his fingers up and down the seam of your cunt. He’s eager to get a look at it, to see all that soft and swollen, wet flesh. “It’s not safe to talk to strangers. Didn’t your mama tell you?”

You squirm against Kappa, pushing on the bathtub to try and force him away from you. Kappa’s all muscle and mass, though, and so much stronger than you could ever convince yourself that you are. “Oh, no, no, no, no, baby,” he murmurs, pushing himself closer to you. Kappa tightens his grip on your hair and continues rubbing your cunt, pushing two fingers right into your dripping entrance. “You are not going fucking anywhere.” 

He pumps his fingers in and out of you steadily, sometimes doing a little twist before he curls them repeatedly, searching for that spot that makes you tick. “Kappa,” you sob, “Please fucking stop. I didn’t ask for this.”

“I think you did ask for it, actually. It’s okay. They did too.” 

You moan despite yourself, gushing onto Kappa’s fingers. He pulls them out of you and sucks them clean, humming at the taste of your arousal. Girls taste better when they’re scared. He pulls out his cock, letting it bounce between your thighs as he brings his palm to your face. “Spit,” he tells you, and you’ve no choice but to comply. 

“You’re gonna stay right here,” Kappa says. “And if you fight me, you are going under. Do you understand, my friend? Be good for me.”

You’re barely processing his words by the time he’s parting your folds with the thick, blunt head of his cock. No, you’re not thinking at all. Not listening. And that’s why you squirm and twist and wriggle, and it’s also why Kappa forces your head under the water, just as he promised he would. 

You didn’t even have time to take a breath. 

You scream underwater as he enters you in one swift thrust, splitting you in two. Even with his workup you’re still in pain, cunt throbbing and stinging at Kappa’s violent intrusion. He pulls you up by your hair, laughing at that big gasp of air you suck in. That’s it, attagirl. And with all your might, you fight him again. Back under you go, darling. 

Kappa’s got one hand on the back of your head, holding you deep under the water, and the other on your ass as he rolls his slim hips against you. He watches himself draw in and out of you, long cock coated in creamy ribbons of your arousal. And you, you’re moaning. Even underwater, Kappa can hear it. They come out in these silly gurgling noises, but he knows exactly what they are. It’s sort of pathetic and almost disturbing to him the way you take him so well, but he has to hand it to you, honestly. They didn’t take his cock like you’re doing now.

Kappa pulls you up again, still fucking you as he lets you catch your breath. “Easy, sugar, easy,” he coos. “Breathe, sweet pea.”  

“Kappa,” you cry, sobbing when he kisses your cervix so brutally. Your nose is stinging, your throat burning with the water forced up it. “Please.” 

“You’re going under again,” Kappa tells you. 

“No, don’t. Don’t, don’t don’t, please. I’m being good for you, don’t you see? Kappa–”

Last time, he promises. And Kappa agrees, honestly. You are being good, but that doesn’t inherently save you from his torture. Anyone can be good, and it can mean fuck all. And right now, it does. Sometimes, sweet pea, bad things just fucking happen to good people like you. Sorry. Life’s not fair, is it?

Kappa grunts as he fucks you, loving the way your underwater moans come out when he hits that special spot deep inside you. He lifts your head up a little, hovering it over the water. Your back aches and so do your knees, holy fuck. The raw, naked brutality of it all. 

There’s a certain point in which your muscles relax, and you quit squeezing his cock so fucking hard. There’s a quiet before the storm, and there’s a quiet after it, too. Quiet except for those whimpering sobs and little uh uh uh’s you make, fuck. 

“You wanna look at me, baby? You wanna watch it happen?”

“No, Kappa,” you beg. “Please, just - just finish.” 

Kappa ignores you and pulls out of you, then forces you onto your back on the cold, wet tile of the bathroom floor. He peels off his shirt and you get a better look at him here - all of his toned, pale skin. He reaches for your wrist and pulls off your hair tie, then ties all of his curls and waves back into a messy, tangled bun. His erection is so long and thick, the tip of his cock resting just below his belly button. He’s got the most gorgeous happy trail leading into a thick patch of hair that surrounds the base of his cock, and his eyes - oh, his beautiful eyes. His pupils eat into the ocean of his irises, signaling how fucking hungry he is for this. For you. 

“Yeah, look at me. Eyes on me, my friend, and watch it happen. Watch.” 

Kappa forces you to look as he enters you again, burying himself to the hilt. You let out a loud sob as he bottoms out, and Kappa wipes your cheeks with his palm. “It’s okay,” he coos, rocking into you. He pins your hands above your head and finds a steady roll and rhythm that has you moaning and sobbing his name at the way his cock drags against your g-spot. For all of his violence, he rapes you rather kindly here. Long, deep thrusts that have your toes curling, your hands squeezing his. 

You feel disgusting on this floor, and you feel disgusting because it feels so fucking good. Oh, you poor, sweet little lamb. You’re going to cum on Kappa’s cock, and there is not one goddamn thing that you can do about it. You’re probably gonna be killed after, too. Probably…probably gonna be stabbed to death, or something like that.  

Your stomach and your thighs burn with that awful pleasure, and there it is. You moan loudly as you cum, pulsing around Kappa’s length. It coaxes along his own orgasm, and Kappa grunts and moans loudly with his release, pumping you full of his seed, fucking it into you so deeply. 

He pulls out of you and leaves you there sobbing on the tile, then tests the temperature of the water. “In the tub,” he demands, and you feel sick. He’s gonna slice you open here, cut you from one set of lips to the other and let you bleed out. 

He’s not, actually. When you’re in the tub, Kappa washes you clean with a bar of soap and his bare hands, bare hands that slide over your breasts and your aching, raw cunt. It’s a short bath, and then he’s drying you off and tucking you into the same bed he raped those other girls in. 

Kappa rifles through your bag for some toiletries and finds a bottle of pills - just some ibuprofen he hands to you and makes you drink. “For the swelling,” he adds, taking a pillow and putting it at the end of your bed. “You keep that elevated, now. See you around, my friend.”

-

reblogs would be nice :) or asks, or whateve. get weird, perverts. thank you for reading.

[digitalpup444]

re-hash

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 0.9k WARNINGS: explicit sexual content | f!reader | established relationship | daddy kink | mild dacryphilia | size difference

JJ MAYBANK's no stranger to being called "daddy." It's practically one of the only things you wanna call him in bed, and something about it just hits. Maybe it's his own raging daddy issues, or the fact it signifies an authority figure, someone to look to. JJ likes calling the shots, and who better to call shots than Daddy? Before you'd introduced that petname to him, using it as a taunt was pretty common. In the midst of a fight, he'd tease his opponent with a little beckoning: "Tha's right, come to Daddy." If a variation was in order, he wasn't a stranger to switching it out for "Papa."

He didn't take into account how far it could go though. Addressing him as your daddy was commonplace, but while he's working on his bike, he gets introduced to something different.

"Pass me that, will you, duchess?" he asks, brows furrowed at the metal in concentration. He holds out his hand for you, and you walk while you read a little paperback book. The spine is weathered.

You hum confirmation, and toe over, plucking his tool from its location. Its hefty weight causes it to drop into his palm more than you meant to, but your focus is still on reading. "Here you go, pa."

He registers your words, and slows to a halt. Unlike him, you're invested in your story, index fingernail toying with your lip unconsciously. The crease in his brow deepens, tilting his head. "Uh," Looking at you through an eye because of the sun glare, upper lip raising to the corner of his nose like a curtain. "What was that, sugar?"

"Hm?" you question, raising your brows in question as you respond to his gaze with your own. "What'd I say?" You're not entirely sure what had occurred, the fresh words from your page still echoing in your mind.

"Called me 'pa.'" he reminds you, his twinge of southern twang apparent in his phrase. Unable to hold your eye contact, he glances down at the tool he fidgets with in his lap, picking off some dirt.

"I did?" In disbelief, you frown, a hint of embarrassment coloring your cheeks. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking—"

He shakes his head. Minutely disappointed you didn't double down. "No, s'fine. S'fine." He pouts his lips, and twitches his nose when he sniffs, scratching it with the back of his hand. "No big deal, sweet pea, I don't mind it." He returns to his bike.

Later on, he doesn't let you get away with playing dumb. "What was it that you called me earlier?" His arms shake with effort, holding himself over your head as his hips rock into you, your legs folded up on either side of him. "Huh? Duchess?"

"JJ!" you chide, but it comes out in a sultry whine, your body bobbing with his movements as his dick lodges all up in your insides. "What are you talking about?" There you go playing dumb, and he won't have it. Callused hand slots itself in the crook of your knee, hooking your leg over his shoulder to stretch you out. You yelp when his head hits a new and deeper angle inside you.

"Nah, nah, don't be like that." he snickers breathlessly. "What'd you call me earlier? Know you wanna say it. Lemme hear it, bae, c'mon," He goads you, and you can tell his accent is more defined at a time like this. It's mouth-watering. Or his long cock rearranging your insides is.

His blonde curls fall into your face as he looks down, watching your cunt slurp him up while you cry out each full sheath. Moans are practically shoved out of you, like there's no room to keep them inside when he buries himself to the balls in your little cunt. Worsening his pace, slapping skin on skin because you're not obeying him.

"JJ, it hurts! It hurts!" you sob, clutching onto the fabric of his side slit shirt he still wears. He pushes your hand off of him, picking himself up to sit on his knees. He tucks the hem of his top between his teeth, displaying his contracting abs as he gets into position. Briefly, you're granted a reprieve, but that's only because he's switching things up on you, slotting his hands under your hip bones to raise you, biceps swelling from the action. Desperately, you catch your ragged breath, until he handles you back onto his dick. He doesn't reintroduce you to inch after inch, no, he bottoms out straight away, plunging his length into you while yanking you into it. You thought it was hell before, now you're near tears, mindlessly reaching out to him as if to wordlessly ask for a breather.

He keeps his hardened concentration where your bodies conjoin, a ring of cream forming around his base, and he scoffs through his nose. You thrash, but you're spasming around him. "Guess this pussy can take some abuse, huh?" he asks rhetorically, muffled by the shirt between his teeth. "So squirmy. She's flexible, I'll give her that. How's about it, baby, wanna tell me now?"

You fist bangs against his forearm, taut from his hold on you, fingers digging into your flesh as you fight him. "Pa! Pa, please! Ugh, you're so mean!"

He drops his shirt so he can speak clearer, "Yeah, but your Pa fucks you good, huh? Right? Pa fucks you nice, and good." Deliberately, he rolls his abdomen, and in turn, pistoning his cock into you in way that has your lashes fluttering. His movements, forcing himself to be slow and steady, causes him to shake from effort, every muscle flexed as he fucks you. Your leg still haphazardly thrown over his shoulder, and he feels your own tremble travel from your core to your toes. "Say it. Say it or I swear I'll tear you in two."

"You fuck me good, pa, you fuck me nice and good. Nobody does it like you, daddy, I swear."

[digitalpup444]

me and the boys have a couple of chains wrapped around the sword in the stone hooked up to mikes toyota tundra gonna pull that fucker out like a tooth.

[digitalpup444]

the day that rory culkin cuts his hair is the day that the rapture happens.

[digitalpup444]

God, how i wish my tv boyfriends were real😣

[digitalpup444]

Hello 👋,

I hope this message finds you well. My name is Aziz, and I’m reaching out with a heartfelt plea to help my family find safety and reunite with our mother. 😞

The ongoing war in Gaza has torn my family apart. My mother and newborn sister are stranded in Egypt, while I, along with the rest of my sex family members, am trapped in the midst of the genocide in Gaza. We have not only been separated but have also lost our home and are enduring unimaginable hardships. 💔

Your support can make a difference. Whether by reading our story, donating, or sharing our campaign with others, you can help us reunite, find safety, and start anew. 🙏🕊

Thank you, from the depths of my heart, for your kindness, compassion, and solidarity during this difficult time. ❤🍉

https://gofund.me/58268669 🔗

please reblog!!

[digitalpup444]

[digitalpup444]

when the sun and the moon

goes down 🌅 comes up 🌖

[digitalpup444]

I know he's in pain but... it's giving overstimulation

(Gif made by me)

[digitalpup444]

i better see the FILTHIEST ‘NEED TO GO REPENT NOW’ TOMMY X READER X JOEL FICS FOR KINKTOBER OR SO HELP ME.

[digitalpup444]

INCOHERENT SCREAMING

Reach Down (Simon [John Q.] x Reader) SMUT

a/n: hey guys, sorry this project is so rushed. i wanted to get something out since i haven't written anything in a hot minute. so i still hope you like it either way.

word count: 1,391

credit for the idea: @digitalpup444

warning: some poor grammer and spelling, porn with little plot, choking, priase/slight degradation kink, fingering with cunnilingus, dialogue heavy

You were never a huge music fan, and never considered yourself a fan of any given band. Because of this, you never got the hype of band worship, the idea of taking an average person and putting them on the highest level to the point where if they ruin that even slightly their career is over for good. 

That is until you got into the punk band PSYOPS. When the obsession hit, it hit like a bus. Suddenly, you were going to underground shows in gross basements and old warehouses. You were taking old shirts and cutting them up to put custom patches on them. You closely followed the band’s forums, trying to figure out their next show. Of course, the band knew of your existence.  It didn’t take long for you to end up in his truck, talking about what it was like being in a band. As you two talked, you felt a strong pull towards him. He liked making punk music and taking down the big man with lyrics. Toward the end of the car ride, he lit his second cigarette of the night and took off the mask as he pulled up to a house.

You always preferred John Q whenever talking about favorite band members. Something about never seeing his face drew you in him. What did he look like under that ski mask? Who was John Q? But when you finally saw his face covered in sweat from the show a shrug ran through you.

"What?" He asks, opening the driver side’s door to the truck, and shutting it with a thud.

You snap out of your daze for a minute, enough time to open your door and then shut it. "Nothing, don’t worry about it."

He glares at you, flicking his cigarette and pressing it under his boot. "Alright." 

He opens the house’s main door and leads you to his room, which looks like it hasn’t been cleaned. John flops onto his bed and groans loudly. You look around his room, slowly inching into his room. 

He notes this and sits up, watching you stare around his room. "Are you going to sit down? You look tired as fuck."

Your eyes flicker back to him. His boots are placed firmly on the ground and his forearms are just above his knees. It’s oddly sexy how he sits. Then again, he was handsome in general. 

"No, "You finally reply. "I’m fine, I promise."

John tilts his head back, smirking, and stands in your way. "You sure? You look…" His eyes look you up and down. "Tense."

You shake your head. "No, I’m fine. I’m just a big fan of your work and I don’t want to mess anything up-"

"Fuck off. You’re not ruining anything. You’re fine." He steps closer. "I mean that. You’re fine."

He eyes you up again, watching your hands hold each other. Your face slowly rushes with blood as he talks. Most critics would say that he speaks because he likes the sound of his voice, but honestly, it didn’t matter to you; you could listen to him talk for hours about whatever he wanted.

"Are you hitting on me?" You said, taking your hands apart. He snaked his arms around my waist and pulled me closer.

"Do you blame me? I’ve been hitting on you the whole night. " His face comes closer and you place your hands on his shoulders.

"Well, are you going to do something about it?"

"Do you want me to?" He asks, moving one of his hands to hold my chin.

A quick nod of your head and he pulls you in for a kiss. At first, his mouth tastes like licking an ashtray, but as his tongue snakes into your mouth, a faint of cheap beer covers your tongue. Your hands shake as they move up to hold his face. His other hand moves down to your ass, pushing you into his hips. His erection pressed against his thigh as you softly moaned into his mouth. John pulls away for a second, his lips covered in your saliva.

"Take off your shirt." He rushes out as he takes off his jacket.

Once you saw his shirt on the floor, you could feel yourself getting more excited.

You giggle and sloppily take off your shirt. His smirk returns to his face as he looks at your breasts.

"Such a good girl and such a cute bra. May I?" His hand ghosts over your bare skin, running his fingers along the lines of your body.

"Please," You whisper and his hands rush to squeeze at them.

His hands felt rough against your skin. You let parts of your body shine in the lamp near his bed. John’s tan but pale skin was dull and flat, yet was striking against your skin. You let out a small moan as his hands moved lower down your body.

"Take off those pants and get on the bed." He commands in a breathy yet dominant tone.

Your hands push the button and pull at the zipper of your jeans, revealing the cutest pair of the panties you own. Embarrassment sets into your face as you rush onto the bed. John smiles as his eyes look into yours.

"Fuck, you are so cute. For such a good girl, I didn’t think you’d be this much of a needy whore."

You giggle again at the compliment but stop as he slowly crawls onto the bed and in between your legs.

His eyes are dark as he kisses down your left thigh; every kiss is a small noise. "You doing alright?" He places his hand on your body. 

A low groan of approval leaves your mouth. He smirks a little as his hand continues to roam and his mouth continues to move downwards. "Good." 

He would’ve never figured you would be so sensitive. You lean forward and kiss his head, causing him to look up. He finally looks at you again, his first glance in a while. His hair was slowly starting to stick to his forehead. John has one of those stares that makes you shiver and squirm in your seat with pleasure. His face comes down to your throbbing heat, a small patch of slick waiting for him.

"Exicited were we?" He said with a small chuckle, kissing it right on the patch.

It was things like that that sent shivers up your spine. His fingers hook around the lining of your panties, slowly pulling them down. This was the most vulnerable you had been in a while.

"Before we start, can you do something for me, baby?"

A quick nods and he continues, his tone more hushed. "Call me Simon."

Before you can even process his request, Simon groans as his tongue snakes up your clit. At first, Lorne went slow, teasingly licking at your clit. But soon enough, Simon’s fingers were slowly entering your vagina. You looked down at his dark eyes, his tongue flicking at your clit; the lamp reflecting in his eyes. 

Going deeper into your pussy, goosebumps crawled up your skin. Your back arched. Suddenly, he stopped. His mouth pops from your vulva. You try to grab at his greasy brown hair, but end up pushing his head back down to your cunt. He started slowly; his tongue felt so good around your clit with every gentle, rough lick, and suck; you could feel myself growing weaker. He was licking and sucking, and the pit in your stomach grew tighter each second. He smelled of cheap beer, cigarettes, and old sweat. With each curl and press of his fingers in your pussy, your stomach swelled in pleasure. He looked up at me and his eyes looked as if he was smiling, which made you melt. You push your vulva more in his mouth and he lets out a low growl, making the pleasure more intense. 

Soon enough, your hot cum was dripping from his mouth and down his chin. When he finally poked his head back up, his smile was a sight for sore eyes.

"God, I’m surprised you were that quiet, still, such a good girl for me. So proud of you."

"It’s not about the sounds." You reply. "But it's about body language. At this moment, you have no idea how good I feel right."

[digitalpup444]

am i gonna have to take matters into my own hands and make simon (dia) x reader smut….

let me know what yall wanna see 😭 i’ll start writing asap.

[digitalpup444]

u guys need to hurry up and get on to creating simon from dinner in america x reader smut

frothing at the mouth rn

[digitalpup444]

[digitalpup444]

farmers daughter: take one

[digitalpup444]