ivyonmygrave

[ivyonmygrave]

Fathers day special;)

after making u wish ur father a happy fathers day, u give him a gift of his own.

dedicating this to the girlies w daddy issues. mwah.

Pedro had been giving you that look all morning. the one where his brows knit together just slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line before he finally caves and says something unbearably reasonable. You’d been ignoring it, scrolling mindlessly through your phone while curled up on the couch, pretending you didn’t know exactly what was coming.

“You should call him,” Pedro said finally, his voice soft but firm.

You didn’t look up. “Nope.”

He sighed, settling beside you, the warmth of his thigh pressing against yours. “Sweetheart.”

“Pedro.” You mimicked his tone, still refusing to meet his eyes.

He reached over, gently prying your phone from your hands and setting it aside before cupping your face. His thumb brushed over your cheek, and damn him for knowing exactly how to melt your defenses. “It’s just a phone call. One minute. ‘Happy Father’s Day.’ That’s it.”

You scowled, but the fight was already draining out of you. “He doesn’t deserve one minute.”

Pedro’s expression softened further, that stupid, understanding look that made you want to both kiss him and throttle him. “Maybe not. But you’re better than holding onto this.”

You groaned, dropping your head against his shoulder. “I hate when you’re right.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I know.”

---

The call lasted exactly fifty-three seconds. It was stiff, awkward, and left your chest aching in a way you couldn’t quite name. But it was done. And when you hung up, you immediately texted Pedro.

You: Happy?

His response was instant.

Pedro: Very. Proud of you. Wait for me tonight. I’ll take care of you.

A shiver ran down your spine.

---

Pedro got home late, the scent of his cologne and the faint musk of a long day clinging to him as he stepped through the door. You were waiting, perched on the kitchen counter in nothing but his button up from that morning, the fabric just barely covering your thighs.

His eyes darkened immediately.

“Hi, Daddy,” you purred, swinging your legs playfully.

He dropped his bag slowly, his gaze raking over you with predatory intent. “What’s this?”

You hopped down, sauntering toward him. “A Father’s Day gift.”

His hands found your hips the second you were within reach, pulling you flush against him. “I’m not your father,” he murmured, though the way his fingers dug into your skin said he wasn’t complaining.

You grinned, rolling your hips against the growing hardness in his pants. “No. But you are my Daddy.”

That was all it took.

Pedro’s mouth crashed onto yours, hot and demanding, his tongue sweeping past your lips as he walked you backward until your knees hit the couch. He pushed you down, climbing over you with a hunger that made your pulse spike.

“You’ve been so good today,” he growled, nipping at your neck. “Listening to me. Being brave.” His hand slid up your thigh, pushing the shirt higher. “Now let me take care of you.”

You gasped as his fingers found your soaked panties, his touch teasing through the fabric. “Pedro—”

“Daddy,” he corrected, his voice rough. “Say it.”

You whimpered. “Daddy, please.”

He ripped your panties off in one swift motion, his mouth descending between your thighs before you could even process it. His tongue was relentless, licking broad stripes through your folds before circling your clit with torturous precision. You writhed, your fingers tangling in his hair as he devoured you, his groans vibrating against your sensitive flesh.

“Fuck, fuck—” Your back arched as he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them just right.

Pedro pulled back just enough to smirk up at you. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me.”

You shattered with a cry, your thighs clamping around his head as pleasure ripped through you. He didn’t let up, licking you through it until you were squirming from oversensitivity.

Before you could recover, Pedro was flipping you onto your stomach, yanking your hips up. You heard the rustle of his belt, the tear of a condom wrapper, and then his cock was pressing against your entrance, thick and unyielding.

“You ready?” he murmured, one hand gripping your hip while the other tangled in your hair.

You nodded frantically. “Yes, Daddy.”

He slammed into you in one brutal thrust, knocking the breath from your lungs. His pace was punishing, each snap of his hips sending shocks of pleasure through your oversensitive body. You clawed at the cushions, moaning his name as he fucked you with single minded intensity.

“Mine,” he growled, his hand tightening in your hair. “All mine.”

“Yours,” you gasped. “Always yours.”

His rhythm stuttered, his hips jerking as he spilled inside you with a groan. He collapsed over you, his breath hot against your back as he pressed kisses along your spine.

When he finally pulled out, he flipped you onto your back, cradling you against his chest.

“Happy Father’s Day,” you mumbled, already half asleep.

Pedro laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Best gift ever.”

[ivyonmygrave]

Private Show *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Summary: Joel takes you to an abandoned strip club, insisting there’s nothing worth seeing until you climb onto that stage and give him a show he won’t forget. Possessive, filthy, and very hands on.

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, semi-public sex, rough sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), riding, possessive behavior, jealousy, violence (minor), dirty talk.

You weren’t trying to be a tease.

At least, not at first.

The abandoned strip club had been Joel’s idea. or, well, his reluctant concession after you’d pestered him about exploring the hollowed out buildings on the edge of Jackson’s patrol route. "Ain’t nothin’ in there but dust and bad decisions," he’d grumbled, but you’d batted your lashes, tugged his sleeve, and here you were.

The place was frozen in time. Velvet booths cracked with age, a stage littered with broken glass, and most notably

a single polished pole still standing, gleaming under the faint light bleeding through the boarded up windows.

You’d laughed when you saw it, running a finger along the cold metal. "Bet you’ve got moves, Miller."

Joel had rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest like he was already regretting this. "Ain’t happenin’, darlin’."

But then you’d hopped onto the stage, just to be ridiculous, just to see his face twist in that god please don’t way and something in the air shifted.

Maybe it was the way his jaw clenched when your hips swayed, testing the weight of the pole. Maybe it was the way his boots scuffed the floor as he stepped closer, eyes darkening under the shadow of his hat. Or maybe it was the way your own breath hitched when you realized oh.

This wasn’t a joke anymore.

You rolled your shoulders back, slow, deliberate, and let your hands slide down your body. "What’s wrong, Joel?" you murmured, fingers hooking under the hem of your shirt. "Thought you didn’t wanna watch."

His voice was gravel. "I don’t."

Liar.

You peeled the fabric off, tossing it aside, and his nostrils flared. The thin tank underneath clung to your chest, the neckline dipping just low enough to make his throat bob when you arched your back against the pole.

"This what you brought me here for?" you teased, rolling your hips in a slow circle. "Knew you had a thing for cheap thrills."

Joel’s laugh was rough, but his knuckles were white where they gripped the edge of the stage. "Keep runnin’ your mouth, see where it gets you."

You grinned, all teeth, and turned around, bending just enough to hear his breath catch. "Promises, promises."

One hand braced on the pole, the other trailing down your stomach, lower, until your fingers dipped below your waistband. Joel’s boot hit the stage with a thud.

"That’s enough."

You peeked over your shoulder. "Make me stop."

He moved fast. always so fucking fast when he wanted something. One second you were playing at seduction, the next his hands were on your waist, spinning you around, his body caging you against the pole.

"You wanna put on a show?" he growled, lips brushing your ear. "Fine. But it’s mine."

His mouth crashed into yours, all teeth and tongue and no patience, his hands dragging down your thighs to hitch your legs around his hips. The pole dug into your back, cold and unyielding, a sharp contrast to the heat of his body grinding against yours.

You gasped when his teeth sank into your bottom lip. “Fuck. Joel-“

"That’s right," he muttered, palming your ass hard enough to make you whimper. "Say my name like that again."

You rocked against him, desperate for friction, but he pulled back just enough to smirk. "Nuh-uh. You wanted to dance? Dance."

His hands left you, and you nearly sobbed at the loss, until you realized what he was doing. Joel settled into one of the cracked leather booths, sprawling like a king, his eyes raking over you with a hunger that made your knees weak.

"Go on," he said, voice low. "Show me what you got."

You swallowed, suddenly nervous under the weight of his stare. But then his fingers tapped his belt buckle impatient, demanding and something primal in you reared its head.

Fine. If he wanted a show, you’d give him one.

You started slow, rolling your hips as you peeled off the tank, letting it slip down your arms. Joel’s gaze burned as you cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, arching into your own touch just to hear him groan.

"That’s it," he urged, hand sliding down to palm himself through his jeans. "Fuckin’ gorgeous."

You turned, pressing your back to the pole, and let your hands wander lower, teasing the button of your pants. Joel’s breath hitched when you popped it open, when you shimmied the fabric down your thighs, leaving you in just your panties damp already, just from his eyes on you.

"Joel," you breathed, fingers tracing the soaked fabric. "I’m—fuck. I’m so wet."

He was on his feet before you finished the sentence.

One stride, two, and then his hands were on you, yanking your hips against his, his cock straining against his zipper. "Mine," he snarled, biting your neck. "All mine."

You nodded frantically, but he wasn’t done.

Joel spun you around, shoved your chest against the pole, and ripped your panties to the side with a growl. Two fingers plunged into you without warning, curling just right, and you screamed.

"This what you wanted?" he rasped, scissoring his fingers, stretching you. "Wanted me to lose my goddamn mind watchin’ you?"

"Yes"

He added a third finger, fucking you hard, his other hand fisted in your hair. "Gonna ruin you," he promised. "Gonna fuck you so deep you forget your own name."

You were babbling now, half-sobs, half-pleas, your thighs shaking as he drove you toward the edge. But just as you were about to come, he stopped.

"Joel—"

"Not yet," he said, pulling his fingers free with a filthy sound. "Gotta taste you first."

He dropped to his knees behind you, yanking you back by the hips, and licked a stripe up your soaked slit. You nearly collapsed, but his grip was iron, holding you up as he devoured you like a man starved.

"Fuck—fuck, Joel, please—"

His tongue flicked your clit, once, twice, and you came with a scream, your legs giving out. Joel caught you, turning you in his arms, and kissed you deep so you could taste yourself on his lips.

"Now," he panted, unbuckling his belt with one hand, "you’re gonna ride me ‘til I forget how to think."

He sat back in the booth, jeans shoved down just enough to free his cock thick, flushed, leaking at the tip. You straddled him without hesitation, sinking down in one slow slide, both of you groaning at the stretch.

"Fuck," Joel hissed, hands gripping your hips. "So goddamn tight."

You rolled your hips, savoring the way his head fell back, the way his fingers dug into your skin. "This what you wanted?" you teased, clenching around him.

His eyes snapped open, dark and dangerous. "You’re playin’ with fire, baby."

You grinned, lifting yourself almost all the way off before slamming back down. Joel cursed, his hips jerking up to meet you, and then he was fucking up into you with brutal strokes, his hands on your ass, controlling the pace.

"That’s it," he growled. "Take it. All of it."

You were so full, so stretched, his cock hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. Your moans turned ragged, your nails scraping his shoulders as you bounced on his lap, chasing your own pleasure.

"Joel—I’m gonna-"

"Cum," he ordered, pinching your clit. "Now."

You shattered, your body clamping around him like a vice, your scream echoing off the walls. Joel followed with a groan, spilling into you with a final, deep thrust, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, the slick slide of his cock still inside you as you both came down.

Then—

A creak.

A footstep.

Joel’s head snapped up, his body tensing beneath you.

"Someone’s here," he hissed.

You turned, still dazed, and froze.

A man. scraggly, unfamiliar. stood in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. Watching.

Joel moved before you could blink.

He shoved you behind him, yanking his jeans up with one hand, the other already reaching for his knife. The stranger stumbled back, hands up, but Joel was on him in seconds, slamming him into the wall with a snarl.

"You like watchin’?" Joel growled, pressing the blade to the man’s throat. "Huh? That what you get off on?"

"I—I didn’t—"

Joel punched him. Hard. The man crumpled, but Joel hauled him up again, his fist connecting with his jaw with a sickening crack.

"Joel!" you cried, grabbing his arm. "Stop. he’s done!"

He froze, chest heaving, his knuckles bloody. The man slumped to the floor, unconscious.

For a heartbeat, Joel just stared at him, his expression unreadable. Then he turned to you, cupping your face with startling gentleness.

"You okay?"

You nodded, still shaking. "Yeah. Just… maybe next time we keep the show private."

Joel exhaled, pressing his forehead to yours. "Ain’t gonna be a next time," he muttered. "Not in public."

You smirked. "Liar."

He kissed you, slow and deep, his hands already wandering. "Yeah," he admitted. "I am."

[ivyonmygrave]

Knee Socks

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

| Warnings: 18+, explicit smut, age gap (Joel is older, reader is early/mid 20s), power dynamics, rough sex, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, slight possessiveness, thigh riding.

A/N: yes. this was written while the AM album by arctic monkeys was playing

The bar was loud, sticky with spilled beer and the kind of heat that made your skin prickle. You’d been stealing glances at him all night. Joel Miller, with his calloused hands wrapped around a whiskey glass, his heavy lidded stare flicking to you every so often like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

You were wearing your knee socks the ones that hugged your thighs just right, disappearing under the hem of your skirt. The ones he’d noticed when you’d crossed your legs earlier, his jaw tightening just enough for you to catch it.

Now, as you leaned against the pool table, pretending to line up a shot, you felt him before you saw him, his body heat at your back, the rough scrape of his stubble against your ear as he murmured,

“You playin’ a game, or just tryin’ to get my attention?”

You smirked, tilting your head just enough to feel his breath on your neck. “Depends. Is it working?”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, one hand settling on your hip, fingers pressing in just shy of too tight. “You know damn well it is.”

The cue slipped from your fingers as he turned you around, your back hitting the edge of the table. His eyes were dark, hungry, tracing the way your chest rose with each breath.

“Been watchin’ you all night,” he admitted, voice rough. “Those fuckin’ socks drivin’ me crazy.”

You bit your lip, shifting just enough to let your skirt ride up. “Yeah? What’re you gonna do about it?”

His grip tightened. “Take you home. Peel ‘em off with my teeth. See how loud I can make you scream.”

The truck ride was torture. His hand on your thigh, inching higher with every red light, his thumb brushing the bare skin above your sock. You were squirming, wet enough to soak through your panties, and he knew it.

“Joel—” you whined, arching into his touch.

“Patience, baby,” he growled, fingers digging in. “Gonna ruin you soon enough.”

When he finally pulled up to his place, he didn’t even let you get the door. yanking you out by the wrist, slamming you against the side of the truck. His mouth crashed into yours, all teeth and tongue, his knee nudging between your thighs.

“Fuck,” you gasped, grinding down on his leg.

He pulled back just enough to smirk. “That’s it. Use me.”

Inside, he had you pinned before the door even shut, one hand fisted in your hair, the other hiking your skirt up.

“These goddamn socks,” he muttered, dragging his palm up your thigh. “Knew you wore ‘em just to fuck with me.”

You moaned as his fingers slipped under the waistband of your panties, finding you dripping.

“Jesus,” he groaned. “Soaked through.”

“Your fault,” you panted, rocking into his touch.

He smirked, pushing two fingers inside without warning, curling them just right. “That it?”

You cried out, nails scraping down his arms.

“Joel— fuck—”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He dragged you to the bedroom, shoving you down onto the mattress. You barely had time to breathe before his belt was clinking, his cock springing free. thick, heavy, already leaking.

“Open,” he ordered, tapping your lips with the head.

You obeyed, tongue darting out to taste him, moaning at the bitter salt of pre-cum.

“Good girl,”he growled, thrusting shallowly into your mouth. “Take it.”

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him deeper, gagging when he hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned, fingers tightening in your hair. “Pretty little thing, beggin’ for it.”

He flipped you onto your stomach, yanking your hips up, your ass in the air. One hand pressed between your shoulder blades, the other spreading you open.

“Joel— please.” you whimpered.

“Please what?” he taunted, rubbing his cock through your slick.

“Fuck me.”

He didn’t make you ask twice.

One brutal thrust, and he was in, stretching you wide, a broken moan tearing from your throat.

“Tight,” he hissed, bottoming out. “Gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

You could only whimper as he set a punishing pace, each snap of his hips punching a gasp from your lips.

“That’s it,” he grunted, hand wrapping around your throat. “Take it.”

You came with a scream, clenching around him, his name a prayer on your lips.

He followed with a groan, spilling deep inside, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he rode out his high.

Later, when you were both spent, he traced the marks he’d left on your thighs, pressing a kiss to the bruise on your hip.

“Mine,” he muttered, possessiveness thick in his voice.

You smiled, curling into him. “Yours.”

i think im havin a liiilll too much fun w writing, ik it was supposed to be a one time thing but joel millers been haunting my mind.

i appreciate feedback and ur recent support so much 🖤

yall made this lovely for me n i wanna give each one of u interacting w my posts a kiss on the nose fr.

have a good night babies

[ivyonmygrave]

[ivyonmygrave]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Go on quietly.

minors DNI. |Joel Miller x Reader | Established Relationship | Hard Dom Joel | Breeding Kink | Unprotected Sex | Thigh-Fucking | Silent Obedience | Sweet Aftercare

A/N: very surprised that my last post got yalls admiration, this was supposed to be a one time thing but im gettin addicted.

The house is quiet when Joel gets home.

You hear the front door open, the heavy thud of his boots hitting the floor, the low sigh he lets out when he shrugs off his jacket. You’re already waiting for him. kneeling on the bed in nothing but his old flannel, the fabric barely covering your thighs, the buttons undone just enough to tease.

He pauses in the doorway, his eyes darkening as they rake over you.

"Look at you," he rumbles, voice rough from the drive. "All pretty n’ waitin’ for me like a good girl."

You don’t answer. You cant, not tonight.

tonight, you don’t get to talk.

Joel knows the rules.

He always does.

He steps closer, his belt already unbuckled, his cock half-hard in his jeans just from the sight of you. His fingers curl under your chin, tilting your face up to his.

"Words tonight, baby?"

You shake your head.

His thumb brushes over your bottom lip. "Nod if you’re sure." And you do.

A slow smirk curls at the corner of his mouth.

"Good."

He doesn’t waste time.

His hands are on you in seconds, rough and possessive, turning you around until you’re bent over the bed, ass up, his flannel rucked around your waist. You shiver when his palm drags down your spine, when his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips.

"Gonna make me guess where you want me, huh?" he growls, voice thick with lust.

You nod.

He hums, low and approving, before his fingers trail down. over your ass, between your thighs, just barely brushing your cunt.

You shake your head.

"Not here?"

Another shake.

His fingers move higher, pressing against your lower back.

No.

Your shoulder blades.

No.

The dip of your waist.

No.

Then his hand slides between your thighs from behind, his fingers pressing your legs together, his cock nudging against the tight heat of them.

You nod frantically.

Joel groans, his grip tightening. "Fuck, baby. You want me to fuck these pretty thighs?"

Yes. Yes. Yes.

He doesn’t make you wait.

The first thrust is brutal, his cock sliding between your clenched legs, the head catching on your wetness every time he pushes forward. You bite your lip to keep from moaning, your fingers twisting in the sheets as he sets a relentless pace, his hips snapping against your ass with every stroke.

"God damn," he grits out, one hand fisting in your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. "Feel how fuckin’ tight you are squeezin’ me just right, ain’tcha?"

You nod, breathless, your thighs trembling as he fucks into them harder, faster, his balls slapping against your soaked cunt with every thrust.

"Gonna make a mess of you," he growls. "Gonna fuck my cum right into these thighs, let it drip down where it belongs. deep in that greedy little pussy of yours."

You whimper, your own arousal coating your legs, making the slide even slicker, even filthier.

Joel curses, his rhythm stuttering. "Fuck—fuck—gonna breed you so good, baby. Gonna pump you full—"

His hips jerk, his cock twitching between your thighs before he spills hot and thick over your skin, his groan ragged in your ear.

---

After, he doesn’t let you move.

He keeps you there, bent over and trembling, as he drags his fingers through the mess on your thighs, pushing it lower, deeper. until his fingertips are pressing against your clit, circling just enough to make you whine.

"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his voice gone soft.

You nod, desperate.

"Then do it."

His fingers slip inside you, crooking just right, and you shatter your orgasm ripping through you with a silent cry, your body clamping down around him as he fucks you through it.

---

When it’s over, Joel gathers you up like something precious.

He cleans you with a warm cloth, his touch gentle now, his lips pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your mouth when you finally turn to face him.

"Good girl," he murmurs, tucking you against his chest. "So damn good for me."

You don’t answer.

You don’t need to.

[ivyonmygrave]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Go on quietly.

minors DNI. |Joel Miller x Reader | Established Relationship | Hard Dom Joel | Breeding Kink | Unprotected Sex | Thigh-Fucking | Silent Obedience | Sweet Aftercare

A/N: very surprised that my last post got yalls admiration, this was supposed to be a one time thing but im gettin addicted.

The house is quiet when Joel gets home.

You hear the front door open, the heavy thud of his boots hitting the floor, the low sigh he lets out when he shrugs off his jacket. You’re already waiting for him. kneeling on the bed in nothing but his old flannel, the fabric barely covering your thighs, the buttons undone just enough to tease.

He pauses in the doorway, his eyes darkening as they rake over you.

"Look at you," he rumbles, voice rough from the drive. "All pretty n’ waitin’ for me like a good girl."

You don’t answer. You cant, not tonight.

tonight, you don’t get to talk.

Joel knows the rules.

He always does.

He steps closer, his belt already unbuckled, his cock half-hard in his jeans just from the sight of you. His fingers curl under your chin, tilting your face up to his.

"Words tonight, baby?"

You shake your head.

His thumb brushes over your bottom lip. "Nod if you’re sure." And you do.

A slow smirk curls at the corner of his mouth.

"Good."

He doesn’t waste time.

His hands are on you in seconds, rough and possessive, turning you around until you’re bent over the bed, ass up, his flannel rucked around your waist. You shiver when his palm drags down your spine, when his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips.

"Gonna make me guess where you want me, huh?" he growls, voice thick with lust.

You nod.

He hums, low and approving, before his fingers trail down. over your ass, between your thighs, just barely brushing your cunt.

You shake your head.

"Not here?"

Another shake.

His fingers move higher, pressing against your lower back.

No.

Your shoulder blades.

No.

The dip of your waist.

No.

Then his hand slides between your thighs from behind, his fingers pressing your legs together, his cock nudging against the tight heat of them.

You nod frantically.

Joel groans, his grip tightening. "Fuck, baby. You want me to fuck these pretty thighs?"

Yes. Yes. Yes.

He doesn’t make you wait.

The first thrust is brutal, his cock sliding between your clenched legs, the head catching on your wetness every time he pushes forward. You bite your lip to keep from moaning, your fingers twisting in the sheets as he sets a relentless pace, his hips snapping against your ass with every stroke.

"God damn," he grits out, one hand fisting in your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. "Feel how fuckin’ tight you are squeezin’ me just right, ain’tcha?"

You nod, breathless, your thighs trembling as he fucks into them harder, faster, his balls slapping against your soaked cunt with every thrust.

"Gonna make a mess of you," he growls. "Gonna fuck my cum right into these thighs, let it drip down where it belongs. deep in that greedy little pussy of yours."

You whimper, your own arousal coating your legs, making the slide even slicker, even filthier.

Joel curses, his rhythm stuttering. "Fuck—fuck—gonna breed you so good, baby. Gonna pump you full—"

His hips jerk, his cock twitching between your thighs before he spills hot and thick over your skin, his groan ragged in your ear.

---

After, he doesn’t let you move.

He keeps you there, bent over and trembling, as he drags his fingers through the mess on your thighs, pushing it lower, deeper. until his fingertips are pressing against your clit, circling just enough to make you whine.

"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his voice gone soft.

You nod, desperate.

"Then do it."

His fingers slip inside you, crooking just right, and you shatter your orgasm ripping through you with a silent cry, your body clamping down around him as he fucks you through it.

---

When it’s over, Joel gathers you up like something precious.

He cleans you with a warm cloth, his touch gentle now, his lips pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your mouth when you finally turn to face him.

"Good girl," he murmurs, tucking you against his chest. "So damn good for me."

You don’t answer.

You don’t need to.

[ivyonmygrave]

Splinters & Scars.

ps. i’ve never written a fanfic, i dreamt this tonight n HAD to get it out of my system.

minors DNI.

warnings: language, age gap and rough shit in general.

Pedro was supposed to be your brother's best friend.

That's the lie you told yourself the first time he pressed you against the rusted side of his Sierra, his calloused hands slipping under your shirt like he owned the skin beneath. The lie you repeated when his teeth left crescent moons on your inner thigh, when his grip on your hips turned your flesh purple and aching.

Your brother's friend.

As if that could ever be all he was.

1. The First Time (and the Second, and the Third)

It started in the woods behind your house, where the pines grew so thick they choked out the sunlight.

Pedro had been drinking. not enough to slur his words, just enough to make his eyes dark and heavy. You'd seen that look before, the way it lingered on your mouth when he thought no one was watching.

"You shouldn't be out here," he said, voice low.

A warning.

You stepped closer anyway.

The first kiss was messy, all clashing teeth and sharp breaths. He tasted like whiskey and regret. When you reached for his belt, he caught your wrist, grip tight enough to make you whimper.

"Tell me to stop.” he demanded.

You didn't.

After that, it became a game.

How many times could you push him until he snapped?

You wore his shirts. stolen from the laundry pile, just to watch his jaw tighten when he saw you in them.

You "accidentally" brushed against him in the hallway, biting your lip when his fingers dug into your waist in warning.

He never kissed you. Not like you wanted.

But he fucked you like he hated you for making him want it.

Il. The Rules (and How You Broke Them)

1. Never in the house.
(Broken when he bent you over the washing machine, the metal rattling loud enough to cover your moans.)

2. Never where someone could hear.
(Broken when you let him take you against your brother's bedroom door, his hand clamped over your mouth to silence you.)

3. Never more than once in a night.

(Broken when he dragged you back to his truck at 3 AM, fucking you raw because once was never enough.)

The only rule he never broke?

Never stay.

Ill. The Kinkier Side of Things

Pedro wasn't gentle.

You learned that fast.

He liked leaving marks where no one else could see. bruises along your ribs, bite marks on the inside of your thighs. Liked when you squirmed beneath him, when you begged.

"You want it?" he'd growl, fingers tightening in your hair. "Then fucking take it."

And you did.

—————————————————————————

The Truck:

The first time he used his belt, looping it around your wrists and tying you to the headrest. "Stay." he ordered, like you were a dog.

You did.

The Shed:

Where he made you kneel on the rough wooden floor, your brother's laughter drifting in from the yard as Pedro fucked your throat.

Your Room:

Where he finally kissed you, slow and deep, before leaving without a word.

IV. The End (or the Beginning of It)

The last time was different.

He was softer. Let you touch him like you'd been dying to, let you map the scars on his chest with your tongue.

When he came, it was with your name on his lips, whispered like a prayer.

You thought maybe, maybe..

Then he left.

Two days later, your brother mentioned Pedro was moving to El Paso.

You didn't ask why.

(But you kept the belt.)

[ivyonmygrave]

[ivyonmygrave]

me

[ivyonmygrave]

[ivyonmygrave]

Me not being online the whole day and then reblog 700 pics in 2 minutes

[ivyonmygrave]

me lately

[ivyonmygrave]

yeah it is what it is but it fuckin hurts

[ivyonmygrave]

in luv w these tumblr girls™

[ivyonmygrave]

Bring Me The Horizon // LosT