#The last Of Us | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

misaerabl · 2 days ago

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Down, Girl

CONTENT: wc…9.7k ✦ toxic reader, loser ellie, oral sex (e!receiving), reader riding ellies face, fingering (both receiving), you eat ellie out in the bathroom, reader is a freak, more commanding, possessive, and is a bitch to everyone, uh you didn’t let her cum, reader guilt tripping ellie. SUMMARY: Ellie has always been yours—pathetic, desperate, following you around like a stray dog hoping for scraps. She worships you, does whatever you say, lets you push her around because she thinks maybe one day, you’ll love her back. You just like the attention. But then something shifts. Ellie starts pulling away, making friends that aren’t you, not always answering when you call. She’s still there, still yours, but she’s hesitating. You can’t have that. So you remind her—she belongs to you.

February 8, Afternoon.

You’re used to having Ellie right where you want her.

It’s almost funny, how easy it is. You press a little, and she bends. You pull, and she follows. Always so eager, always so desperate. It’s adorable, really. The way she watches you like you’re something holy. Like she’s lucky just to be near you.

You lean against her locker, waiting. The hallway is loud, but you don’t hear any of it. You’re too focused on the fact that she’s late. She’s never late.

She shows up two minutes later, looking like she rushed over. “Hey,” she breathes, pushing her hair back, shifting under your gaze.

You tilt your head. “Didn’t see you this morning.”

Ellie scratches the back of her neck. “Yeah, I—uh, I had to finish something.”

Your eyes flick over her, taking in the way she won’t quite meet your gaze. She looks guilty. She should.

You step closer, your voice honeyed but sharp. “You’re not avoiding me, are you?”

Her head snaps up, wide-eyed. “No! No, I just—”

You hum, watching her squirm. Cute. “Good.”

You don’t have to say anything else. Ellie falls in step with you like always. Like she doesn’t even realize you just put a leash back around her neck.

You met Ellie Williams when you were thirteen.

Back then, she was just some scrawny, awkward kid with too many freckles and a closet full of ugly hoodies. The kind of girl who looked like she belonged in the background of a school photo, forgotten as soon as the camera flashed.

You were different. You had a presence—one that people noticed. And Ellie? She noticed you the most.

You don’t remember the exact moment she started following you around. It just happened. One day, she was a classmate. The next, she was yours.

It started small. She’d let you copy her homework, save you a seat at lunch, carry your things without you asking. She never expected anything in return. She just wanted to be close to you.

You liked that.

So you let her in, just enough to keep her hooked. Just enough to make her think she had a chance.

Now, years later, nothing has changed.

Ellie still follows you like a lost dog, still waits for your texts, still lights up when you so much as look at her. You let her sleep in your bed sometimes—when you’re feeling generous. You let her drive you places, take care of you when you’re drunk, clean up your messes.

She doesn’t complain. She never does.

But lately, something feels… off.

She hesitates before answering your texts. She doesn’t wait for you after class like she used to. You caught her sitting with some new people at lunch last week. When you asked about it, she stammered out some excuse, but it didn’t matter. You already knew—she was getting comfortable somewhere else.

You can’t have that.

So now, as you walk beside her, your fingers brush over hers—light, teasing, just enough to make her breath hitch.

“Missed you,” you murmur, voice sweet. “You’ve been distant.”

Ellie swallows hard. “I haven’t—I mean, I didn’t mean to—”

You grip her wrist, stopping her in the middle of the hallway. She looks down at you, startled.

You smile, tilting your head. “Then don’t.”

She nods. Just like that, the hesitation is gone. Just like that, she’s yours again.

Good girl.

Ellie’s house is small, lived-in, the kind of place that smells like old books, laundry detergent, and whatever air freshener her aunt picked up from the store that week. It’s familiar. You’ve been here more times than you can count, curled up on her bed, stealing her hoodies, making yourself at home like you own the place.

You do own it—at least, the parts that matter.

Ellie sits on the floor, back against the couch, guitar balanced on her thigh. Her fingers move over the strings absentmindedly, plucking a tune you don’t recognize. Her head is bowed, auburn hair falling over her face. She looks calm, focused. Content.

She should be looking at you.

You shift slightly, adjusting the little boy in your lap. Luke is Ellie’s half-brother, a quiet kid who took to you the way most people do—easily, naturally, like it’s impossible not to. Right now, he’s holding onto your wrist with his small hands, playing with the bracelets on it as he leans against you.

You hum, brushing a hand through his messy curls. “Ellie,” you say, dragging out her name just a little, letting it settle in the air.

Her fingers falter against the strings. She looks up, eyes flicking to yours immediately, like muscle memory.

“Play something I know,” you say, voice soft. Sweet.

Ellie nods without question, shifting the guitar, adjusting her grip. She starts playing again, and this time, the song is familiar—one she knows you like, one she’s played for you before, late at night when it was just the two of you.

You smile, satisfied.

Luke tugs on your sleeve. “Sing,” he says, tilting his head up at you.

You laugh, ruffling his hair. “I don’t sing, baby.”

He pouts. “Ellie says you do.”

Your gaze snaps to her. She freezes, caught.

You raise a brow, smirking. “You been talking about me, Williams?”

Ellie clears her throat, looking away, ears tinged pink. “Just—just mentioned it.”

Cute.

You lean back against the couch, letting Luke curl against you, your gaze still on Ellie. She keeps playing, but you can tell she’s distracted now, too aware of your eyes on her.

Good.

She was starting to forget her place. But that’s alright—you’ll just have to remind her.

Ellie’s room smells like her. A mix of faintly sweet vanilla and something sharp, like the lemon-scented cleaning spray her mom always insists on using. Her bed is unmade, as usual, a pile of mismatched blankets and clothes scattered around the floor. The space is small, but it’s hers. Her little kingdom.

And right now, it’s just the two of you—her sitting at the edge of the bed, fiddling with her fingers, her knees drawn up to her chest. You sit across from her, lounging in the chair by her desk, legs stretched out, letting your fingers lightly tap the rhythm of a song you’ve been listening to on repeat.

You watch her. You always watch her.

Her hands keep moving, an unconscious twitch, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, her fingers tracing circles on her knee. She looks away from you, a little too quickly, as if she’s trying to avoid your gaze.

You raise an eyebrow. Nervous again, huh?

It’s cute.

"What's going on?" you ask, leaning forward slightly, letting your voice fall soft but sharp, like a thread pulling her closer to you.

Ellie shifts her weight, finally looking up at you, her brown eyes wide. Her lips part like she’s going to say something, but she hesitates, just long enough to make it obvious. You know she’s working up the nerve. You know she’s always working up the nerve when it comes to you.

"Just…thinking," she says, voice quiet, almost sheepish.

You can’t help the smirk that curls on your lips. “Thinking? About what, Ellie?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she bites her lip and continues to fidget, her thumb rubbing over the top of her knuckles in that rhythmic, nervous way you’ve come to recognize. It’s a habit, a tell. One of many.

You wait, letting the silence stretch just enough to make her uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to disappoint you," she says suddenly, the words spilling out before she can stop them.

Your breath catches in your chest, but you don’t let her see it. Instead, you stand up slowly, taking a few steps toward her, watching the way her posture shifts, like she’s waiting for something.

You kneel in front of her, just close enough that she has to meet your eyes. You don’t speak at first. Instead, you reach out and gently touch her hands, making her stop fidgeting.

Her fingers freeze, the muscles in her shoulders stiffening. She still won’t look at you.

“Disappoint me?” you repeat softly, voice low and teasing. You let the words linger, making her feel the weight of them. "You know I don't like when you do that."

Her eyes dart up to meet yours, and for a moment, you see the tiniest flicker of fear in them—like she’s scared of what you might do if she does disappoint you.

You smile, that same sweet, dangerous smile. "You won’t disappoint me, Ellie. You can’t."

Her breath hitches, and for a second, you think she might say something else—something more. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she just lets you pull her hands into yours, squeezing them gently, her heart racing beneath her chest. She’s waiting for you to speak again, to tell her what she needs to do next.

You whisper, “Good girl.”

Her shoulders finally relax, just a little, but her gaze stays locked on yours, like she’s trying to read your mind.

You stand, dragging her with you, pulling her close enough so she can feel the heat of your body against hers. You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, leaning in just slightly, letting your lips brush against her temple.

“You’re mine, Ellie,” you murmur, low and quiet, just for her. “Always have been.”

Ellie doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. You both know the truth.

You take a step back, letting her breathe, but you don’t go far. She follows your every movement with her eyes, like she’s afraid to miss something.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you add, just to remind her.

The relief in her eyes is unmistakable. She’s not sure what you want from her, but she knows she’ll give it.

And that’s exactly how you like it.

Ellie is still looking at you like that—like you hung the damn moon, like she’ll do anything to keep you happy, like she wants to be owned.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? She doesn’t fight it. She never has.

You’re still close, her hands limp in yours, like she’s waiting for you to decide what happens next. Always waiting on you.

And maybe—maybe you should remind her why.

You hum softly, tilting your head. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

Ellie swallows, her jaw clenching slightly. She looks down, and you know—you know—she’s trying to gather herself, trying to figure out how to put her thoughts into words.

She never gets the chance.

You lift a hand to her chin, gently tilting her face back up to you. “Ellie.”

Your voice is softer now, coaxing.

She meets your eyes, and for a second, she’s just staring—like she’s trying to memorize you, trying to understand what you want from her.

You let the moment stretch, let the silence settle heavy between you, before you speak again.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?”

It’s not really a question. You both know the answer.

Ellie’s breath shudders, and she nods.

You tighten your grip on her chin, just slightly. “Words.”

She exhales shakily. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “I’m yours.”

A slow smile spreads across your lips.

Good girl.

You don’t give her time to think—you move before she can, leaning in, closing the space between you. You kiss her like she belongs to you, like you need her to understand it.

And fuck—Ellie melts.

She lets out the smallest noise against your lips, her hands gripping at your waist, like she’s afraid you’ll pull away too soon. You don’t. You press in closer, one hand slipping into her hair, tugging just enough to make her whimper.

She’s so easy for you. So desperate.

You deepen the kiss, swallowing the tiny gasps she makes, reveling in the way she’s already pliant, already giving you everything you want without hesitation.

When you finally pull away, Ellie is breathless, flushed, her lips red and swollen. Her eyes stay locked on yours, wide and dazed, like she still hasn’t caught up to what just happened.

You grin, dragging your thumb over her bottom lip. “Still thinking?”

Ellie swallows hard. “Not really.”

You laugh softly, pressing another kiss to her cheek, then to her jaw, just because you can. Because she lets you.

Because she’s yours.

February 9th, Evening.

The party is loud, but not loud enough to drown out the hum of conversations, the clinking of drinks, the occasional burst of laughter from the kitchen. The air smells like cheap beer and something vaguely sweet—someone must’ve brought those shitty fruit-flavored vape pens everyone’s been obsessed with.

You barely notice any of it.

Abby fucking Anderson is pressed against you, arms wrapped lazily around your waist, her lips brushing against your neck every now and then. She’s warm, solid—her grip firm, like she knows she can have you if she wants. And maybe she can.

You let her hold you. Let her lean in close as you talk to—Sierra? Sidney? Whatever-the-fuck-her-name-is. The host, too busy with the party to care that Abby’s hands are sliding lower, her fingers digging into your hips.

You smirk, amused.

Abby’s been flirting with you all night, making it obvious, shameless. She’s charming, in a way that comes easy—cocky but not overbearing, confident in the way that only someone who’s used to winning can be. The way she looks at you makes it clear she knows she could have you. That if she tried a little harder, pushed just a little more—

And then you see her.

Ellie.

Tucked away in the corner, half-hidden behind the couch, talking to some girl you don’t recognize.

Fidgeting.

Nervous.

Almost… blushing?

Your stomach tightens.

She doesn’t see you watching her, too focused on whatever the girl is saying, nodding along, lips twitching into an awkward little smile.

And suddenly, Abby’s touch doesn’t feel as interesting anymore.

Your jaw clenches, fingers curling slightly at your sides.

Ellie looks—fuck, she looks comfortable. Like she’s not thinking about you. Like she’s not waiting for you to notice her. Like she’s—

No.

You pull away from Abby, ignoring the way she raises an eyebrow at you. Your drink is still in your hand, but you barely register it, your focus narrowing in on Ellie, on the way she shifts her weight from foot to foot, playing with the rings on her fingers, nodding along to whatever the girl is saying.

Like you aren’t even here.

Like she’s forgetting who she belongs to.

That won’t do.

That won’t do at all.

“I’ll be back,” you murmur, already taking a step away.

Abby scoffs, clearly unimpressed. “Where are you even—”

You don’t let her finish. “Relax, Anderson,” you say, turning to glance at her over your shoulder. “Go find someone else to grope.”

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head, but she doesn’t stop you. She knows better than to push when you’ve already lost interest.

Your heels click against the floor as you make your way to Ellie, purposeful, sharp. The girl she’s talking to—Dina, apparently—is still speaking, something animated, something that has Ellie nodding, shifting from foot to foot like she’s actually engaged in the conversation.

How cute.

You don’t even hesitate.

“Oh, there you are,” you drawl, stepping into their space without so much as a second thought. You barely glance at Dina, eyes locked on Ellie. “Didn’t realize you wandered off. Got bored of waiting for me, baby?”

Ellie stiffens, her hand twitching at her side. “I—”

“She doesn’t have to wait for you.”

Dina cuts in, arms crossed, glaring up at you like she actually thinks she has a say in this. You raise an eyebrow, finally sparing her a proper look.

Excuse me?

Ellie shifts beside her, awkward, rubbing the back of her neck.

Dina scoffs. “Do you just—let her talk to you like that?” She turns to Ellie fully, disbelief written all over her face. “Like, seriously? You just let her push you around?”

You tilt your head, watching Ellie, waiting.

She knows what to do.

And of course—your good girl never disappoints.

Ellie scratches her cheek, glancing between the two of you, and then—she shrugs. “It’s not—” She hesitates. “It’s not really like that.”

Dina’s expression darkens, her frown deepening. “It kinda is like that, Ellie.”

Your patience thins.

Your lips curl into something amused, something condescending, as you step just a little closer, tilting your head at Dina like she’s a fucking pest.

“Who even is this skank?”

Ellie flinches. Dina’s expression twists.

You smile.

Ellie clears her throat, glancing at Dina apologetically before mumbling, “Uh—this is Dina. She’s a—uh, she’s a scholar.”

You barely blink. “Cool.” You turn back to Ellie, gaze dark. “We need to talk.”

Ellie swallows hard. “I—”

You grab her wrist, firm, but not rough. Not yet. “Now.”

Ellie hesitates for a moment, but then—then she nods, letting you pull her along without protest.

Good girl.

You don’t even look back at Dina as you lead Ellie down the hall, pushing open the first unlocked door you find—a bathroom, small and dimly lit.

Perfect.

You shove Ellie inside, stepping in after her, closing the door with a sharp click.

She shifts on her feet, rubbing her arm, looking at you like she knows exactly what’s coming.

Smart girl.

You cross your arms, gaze hard. “What the fuck was that?”

Ellie shifts under your gaze, fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie, avoiding eye contact like she’s some fucking schoolgirl getting scolded.

You step closer.

She tenses.

“Since when do you wander off?” you ask, voice sharp. It’s not loud—doesn’t need to be—but it’s firm, edged with something that makes Ellie shrink a little, pressing her back against the sink.

She swallows. “I—I didn’t mean to, I just—”

“You just what?”

She flinches at the bite in your tone.

Your head tilts, arms crossed, waiting.

Ellie exhales, rubbing at her jaw. “I had to use the bathroom,” she mumbles. “And then—uh—Dina was outside, and we just… started talking.”

Your jaw clenches.

She’s never done this before. Never just drifted away from you. Usually, at these parties, she stays put—sits in the corner, waits, watches, like a good girl. Until you decide you’re done with everyone else. Until you tell her it’s time to go.

But this?

This won’t do.

You scoff. “And what, you forgot about me?”

Ellie’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “No! I—I didn’t forget, I was just—”

You take another step, crowding her against the sink.

She shuts up immediately.

Good.

Your fingers lift to her chin, tilting her face up, forcing her to look at you. Her pupils are blown wide, lips parting slightly, breath shaky.

You hum, fingers tracing along her jaw, light, teasing. “You know better, don’t you, baby?”

She nods quickly, eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah,” she breathes.

Your grip tightens just slightly. Not enough to hurt—just enough to remind.

“Say it,” you murmur.

Ellie swallows, cheeks flushed. “I—I know better.”

You smile. “That’s my good girl.”

But she still needs to learn.

Ellie barely has time to react before you push her back, hands firm on her hips, guiding her onto the edge of the sink. Her breath stutters, hands gripping the porcelain as she looks at you—wide-eyed, confused.

“W-What—”

You drop to your knees in front of her.

Ellie freezes.

Her fingers twitch against the sink, chest rising and falling a little too fast, a little too shallow. She swallows hard, staring down at you like she can’t quite process what’s happening.

You tilt your head, running your hands up her thighs, slow, teasing. “You need to learn, don’t you, baby?”

Ellie nods automatically, like it’s instinct.

You smirk. “Then let me teach you.”

Your hands find the edge of her pants, you tug it slightly

“Take it Off.”

She hesitates, eyes flickering between yours, searching—maybe for reassurance, maybe for a way out. As if she doesn’t already know there isn’t one. As if she doesn’t already belong to you.

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

Your gaze stays firm, unwavering, expectant.

Ellie exhales sharply, hands hovering at the waistband of her jeans, fingers gripping the fabric like she’s still weighing her options. But you both know there’s only one.

Slowly, she complies.

She was wearing some black and grey boxers, you smile as you watch her. “Those come off too, Ellie.”

Ellie's face burns as she looks down at you, her hands trembling slightly as she reaches for the waistband of her boxers. She hesitates for a moment, before pulling them down her legs and stepping out of them.

Her breath comes in short, nervous bursts as she watches you, wondering what you'll do next. Her thighs are clenched together, as if trying to hide herself, though she knows it's pointless.

“Legs open, baby”

"Mhm," Ellie moans softly as she spreads her legs wider, gripping the edge of the sink tighter. Her cheeks are stained red, eyes watching you carefully. She's fully exposed now - her bare pussy on display, wetness already gathering at her entrance.

You lean in close, breath ghosting over her skin, With one hand, you gather your hair, twisting it up into a makeshift ponytail. Then, without a word, you reach for Ellie’s wrist, guiding her trembling fingers to take over.

Her breath catches.

She doesn’t need you to say it. She knows exactly what you want.

And she obeys.

Ellie's fingers curl around the base of your ponytail, her grip tentative at first, before tightening as she becomes more confident. She pulls your head forward, guiding your face towards her dripping wet pussy. "Oh god," she whispers, her voice shaking.

You bury your face between Ellie's thighs, your tongue diving straight into her slick folds. She cries out, fingers tightening in your hair as she rocks her hips forward, seeking more contact. Your tongue laps at her clit, swirling around the sensitive bud before sucking it into your mouth.

Ellie's moans grow louder as you expertly work her clit, her hips rolling desperately against your face. Wetness coats your chin as her juices flow freely. One hand grips your hair tighter, while the other covers her mouth to muffle her increasingly shameless noises.

You slip a finger inside her, then another, curling them just right to hit that spot that makes her see stars. Ellie's legs shake as she grinds down onto your hand and mouth, chasing her release. She bites down hard on her lip, trying not to scream as the pleasure builds and builds.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuck..." her words come out as whispers between gasps, her hips moving in small, desperate circles against your face. She can feel her orgasm approaching, her body tensing. Her legs threaten to give out completely as you ravage her. "I'm gonna…”

But then—just as she starts to tremble—you pull away.

Ellie barely has time to react before you wipe the liquid from your mouth with the back of your hand, a slow, deliberate motion that makes her breath hitch. Her hand still lingers in your hair until you slap it away, standing back up like nothing happened.

She just looks at you. Panting. Pleading.

Why the fuck did you stop?

The question is written all over her face—eyes blown wide, lips slightly parted, body still tense, waiting.

You just smile, tilting your head as you run a teasing finger along her flushed cheek.

“Maybe next time,” you murmur, voice dripping with amusement. Then, leaning in just enough for her to feel your breath against her ear—

“When you didn’t piss me off.”

Ellie swallows hard, gripping the edge of the sink like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.

Let her stay like that. Let her ache for it.

February 13, Morning

The café is warm, filled with the quiet hum of conversation, the clinking of cups against saucers, the rhythmic tapping of your fingers against your laptop’s keyboard. Outside, the sky is overcast, a dull gray that matches your mood.

You sip your coffee, glancing at the time. Ellie’s late.

She always is.

But eventually, the door chimes, and there she is—messy auburn hair tucked under a beanie, hands stuffed in her pockets, hoodie slightly oversized on her frame. She spots you, and something flickers in her expression, something unreadable, before she makes her way over.

“Hey,” she says, dropping into the seat across from you, rubbing her palms together like she’s cold.

“Hey,” you echo, closing your laptop. She smells like cigarettes and cheap cologne, like she just came from somewhere she doesn’t want you asking about. But you don’t press—yet.

Things feel normal. Like you didn’t have your lips on her five days ago. Like you didn’t have her trembling for you in some grimy bathroom four days ago.

You talk about nothing for a while, easy, effortless. Then, casually, you ask—

“So, what are we doing tomorrow?”

Ellie freezes mid-sip, eyes darting up to yours like she just got caught in a lie she hadn’t even told yet.

You laugh, light, amused. “What? Did you forget?”

She swallows, scratches the back of her neck. “Uh. No. I mean, kinda. I just—”

Your amusement fades. “Spit it out, Ellie.”

She shifts in her seat. “Dina and some of the guys invited me to hang.”

Silence.

You blink, tilting your head. “And you agreed?”

Ellie exhales, looking away. “I figured you’d be on a date or something.”

You stare at her.

A date.

The sheer audacity makes your jaw clench, fingers tightening around your coffee cup. Since when have you ever done that? Since when have you ever let some guy take you out on Valentine’s instead of spending time with her?

Ellie finally looks back at you, realization dawning in her eyes as she sees the irritation brewing in yours.

“Are you serious?” you ask, voice calm, even, but sharp.

Ellie doesn’t answer. Because she already knows.

Ellie, ever the nervous wreck, tries to salvage it.

“I mean, I—I’ll still come over,” she says quickly. “After. We can hang in the evening.”

You just stare at her.

She’s squirming in her seat, fidgeting with her rings, eyes darting between you and the scratched-up wooden table like she’s waiting for your verdict. Like she knows she fucked up and is just hoping you won’t punish her for it.

You lean back in your chair, arms crossed. Then you scoff, shaking your head. “Wow. Lucky me.”

Ellie flinches, the tips of her ears going red. She doesn’t say anything. Of course she doesn’t.

Because she knows—knows—that whatever you say, she’ll do it. You’re already in her head, buried under her skin, wrapped around her ribs like something vital, something she can’t scrape out no matter how hard she tries.

But that doesn’t mean you’ll let this slide.

Your phone is already in your hand before Ellie can say anything else. You don’t even hesitate. If she’s spending time with other people, then so are you.

You scroll through your messages until you find her name.

Abby Anderson.

She replies within minutes. A smug, easy response

Abby : "Thought you weren’t interested."

You smirk.

You : "Changed my mind."

Ellie shifts in her seat, oblivious, still trying to figure out how much trouble she’s in.

Who the fuck does she think she is?

February 14, Valentines

You stare at yourself in the mirror, tilting your head slightly as you smooth out the fabric of your dress. It hugs your body in all the right ways, accentuating everything that Abby will no doubt appreciate.

Abby wasn’t a bad choice. Smart, jacked, and disgustingly wealthy. You knew this date wouldn’t disappoint. She wouldn’t disappoint.

But as you swipe a final coat of lipstick on, as you spritz perfume over your collarbone, as you slide on your heels—your mind isn’t on Abby at all.

It’s on Ellie.

On the fact that she texted you an hour ago— On my way. —like she wanted you to acknowledge it. Like she expected you to care.

You didn’t even respond. Just left her on read.

Because you wanted her anxious. Wanted her restless the whole day. Wanted her checking her phone every five minutes, heart pounding every time the screen lit up, only to be met with silence. You wanted her thinking about you.

But now, as you grab your bag and slip your phone inside, something bitter creeps into your chest.

She’s out there. With them.

Laughing at something Dina says. Maybe fidgeting, maybe stammering, maybe blushing.

You inhale sharply, roll your shoulders back, shake the thought off. It doesn’t matter.

Tonight will be perfect.

Abby will make sure of it.

…But will you?

The restaurant Abby picked was perfect—fancy but not showy. Dim lighting, soft jazz playing in the background, a bottle of wine already chilling at the table before you even sat down. She had everything planned, down to the smallest details.

She picked you up in an expensive car, a sleek black Audi with leather seats that smelled brand new. The kind of car you knew she could replace in a heartbeat without a second thought. She even stepped out to open the door for you, the perfect gentleman.

You posted pictures on your story—subtle flexes. The perfectly plated steak, the candlelit ambiance, the empty wine glasses. But most of them were of you—Abby had taken them, of course. She had an eye for it. The angle just right, your features highlighted in the soft golden light.

And Abby… Abby was undeniably perfect.

She knew exactly what to say, when to say it. Knew how to touch you in ways that made your skin warm and your heart beat just a little faster. Her lips brushed against your neck at just the right moment, her fingers grazing your knee under the table in just the right way.

Nothing could ruin this.

Nothing.

At least, that’s what you thought.

But when Abby excused herself—standing with that easy confidence, telling you she’d be right back, that she had another present for you—you pulled out your phone. Just to check. Just to see.

And there it was.

A story.

Ellie.

Drinking.

With Dina.

Some ginger-haired bitch sitting on her lap.

Your grip on your phone tightens.

Your jaw clenches.

Everything else—the restaurant, the wine, the warmth of Abby’s touch—fades into the background.

Ellie doesn’t drink. Not unless she’s nervous, or desperate, or being stupid.

And that girl—who the fuck is she? What the fuck is she doing in Ellie’s lap?

Abby’s voice startles you out of your thoughts.

“Miss me?” she teases, placing a small, elegantly wrapped box on the table.

You glance up at her, then back at your phone.

Your mood has already shifted.

And now, you need a drink.

Abby’s hands were firm on your waist, her grip possessive in a way that most girls would melt under. Her lips moved against yours with purpose, her confidence unwavering—like she knew exactly how this was going to go. Like she was sure you were going to let her in.

Your arms were draped over her broad shoulders, fingers lazily playing with the soft strands of her hair as you deepened the kiss. The night had been perfect. She had been perfect. A bouquet of flowers so big it barely fit in your arms, a new pair of designer heels that she had practically forced you to accept, and an expensive necklace that still sat around your throat, cool against your flushed skin.

Abby made it easy. She never made you wait, never made you feel like you had to chase her, never made you question your place.

So why the fuck were you thinking about Ellie?

Her stupid nervous fidgeting. The way her knee bounced when she was anxious. The way her voice cracked sometimes when she tried to talk back. The way she looked up at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

The way she had someone else on her lap.

Your nails dug into Abby’s shoulders, and she let out a small, amused hum against your lips, mistaking your sudden aggression for passion.

“You’re on me tonight, huh?” she teased, smirking as she pulled back slightly, her fingers slipping beneath the hem of your dress.

You should be focused on this. On her. On the way she looked at you like she knew she could have you.

But instead, your phone buzzed.

And you—like a fucking idiot—glanced at the screen over Abby’s shoulder.

Ellie.

“I’m outside. Let me in.”

Your breath hitched.

Abby noticed.

Your fingers tightened in her hair, lips ghosting over hers, but suddenly the air had changed. The control had slipped for just a moment.

And now, you had a choice to make.

You shifted in Abby’s lap, her hands gripping your waist instinctively, like she didn’t want you to move. Her lips were hot against your neck, trailing down, hands sliding over your thighs, her touch deliberate.

Then your phone buzzed again.

You glanced at it, saw the name on the screen, and immediately pushed yourself off Abby, standing up like nothing had happened. She looked up at you, brows furrowed.

"You good?" she asked, voice thick with something unspoken.

"Yeah," you said, brushing your hair back, fixing the straps of your dress like she hadn’t just had her hands all over you. "That was my mom."

Abby’s eyes flickered with something skeptical. "Your mom?"

Your heels clicked against the floor as you stepped out of Abby’s car, your arms full of gifts—flowers, designer shoes, jewelry, all things that screamed that you were wanted. Abby leaned against the doorframe of her car, arms crossed over her broad chest, watching you with an expression that teetered between amusement and frustration.

"You sure you don’t want me to take you upstairs?" she asked, her voice smooth, calculated. She knew what she was doing, giving you one last chance to let her in.

You smiled, soft but firm. "I’ll text you."

She held your gaze for a moment longer, like she was trying to see if you were bullshitting her, but ultimately, she nodded. "Alright," she murmured. One last time, she stepped forward, pulling you in, pressing a kiss to your lips—slow, deliberate. Like a silent reminder that she had been here first tonight.

You let her, even smiled against her lips, before pulling away and wiping the smudged lipstick from her face.

"Goodnight, Abby," you said, voice sweet, final.

You turned on your heel, the weight of her gaze burning into your back as you made your way into the building, clutching the expensive gifts she had given you like they meant something.

But by the time you reached your door, all of it—the necklace, the shoes, the flowers—felt heavy. Unimportant.

Because Ellie was here.

Waiting.

Just like she always did.

You saw her tuck her phone away, her gaze flickering over the gifts in your arms—the bouquet, the neatly wrapped designer bags, the weight of the night still lingering on your skin.

Then, you watched as it clicked.

Ellie’s jaw tightened just slightly. "You were on a date."

It wasn’t a question.

You just hummed, shifting the weight in your arms. She stepped forward, reaching out. "Here, let me take those."

You didn’t argue, handing her the heavy bouquet first. When you leaned in to pass it to her, your perfume mixed with the faint traces of expensive cologne clinging to your skin. Ellie inhaled instinctively.

And there it was.

Familiar, but not yours.

She knew that scent.

Abigail Anderson.

You ignored the way her fingers twitched when she took the bouquet from you, brushing past her as you unlocked the door. "Just leave it on the coffee table," you murmured, voice light, like this was any other night.

She did as you said, but you could feel the weight of her stare the whole time.

You walked into your room, slipping off your heels. Ellie followed, wordlessly taking a seat on your bed as you went to your vanity. You caught her gaze in the mirror—steady, sharp, calculating.

You started getting unready, removing your earrings first.

"Soo..." she finally spoke, her voice low, unreadable. "You were with... Abby?"

You saw the way her hands curled into the sheets at her sides. The way she tried to keep her voice casual.

You smirked.

This was going to be fun.

"Yeah, I figured if I was gonna spend Valentine’s with anyone, it should be her..."

Your voice was smooth, deliberate—each word sharpened just enough to cut. Like Abby was the only one who deserved your time. Like you hadn't even considered spending it with Ellie.

Why should you? It wasn’t your fault she had other plans. She blew you off first. She chose to be at some party, surrounded by people who weren’t you. Chose to let some girl—some nobody—sit on her lap like she belonged there.

Ellie doesn’t say anything at first. You see the way she tenses, fingers curling against the hem of her hoodie. Her knee bounces, jaw clenched like she’s trying to keep herself together, trying to be unaffected. But then she huffs out a breath, all forced nonchalance, and leans back on her palms.

"Right," she mutters, nodding slightly, like she’s convincing herself more than responding to you. "Makes sense. She’s, like... perfect, huh?"

There’s something in her voice that makes you pause—something bitter, something jealous. And it satisfies you.

ou unclip your earrings, dropping them onto the vanity with a soft clink. "Well, yeah," you say simply. "She knows exactly what to do, what to say... how to treat me."

Ellie’s jaw tightens.

You smirk at her reflection in the mirror. That got to her.

"She bought me all this, by the way." You gesture lazily to the designer shoes, the necklace glinting under the light, the massive bouquet sitting on your coffee table. "Really went all out. I mean, not that I’m surprised."

Ellie swallows, looking away. Her fingers fidget in her lap, picking at a loose thread on her hoodie.

"So," she starts, voice quieter now, "you had a good time, then?"

You twist your lip in amusement, watching her through the mirror. "I did."

Ellie nods again, but she doesn’t look convinced. She’s avoiding your gaze now, staring hard at the floor, at the carpet, at anything but you.

Good. Let her wallow in it. Let her sit in the weight of it, in the consequences of her choices.

You turn around, arms crossing over your chest as you lean against the vanity. "Why do you care?" you ask, tilting your head, studying her.

Ellie flinches, just slightly. She lifts her head, and for a second, she looks like she’s going to deny it—going to say something sarcastic, something dismissive. But then her lips press into a thin line, and instead, she lets out a shaky breath.

"I don’t," she lies.

You smile. "Good."

The room was quiet now. Too quiet. The only sound was the soft rustling of fabric as you moved, slipping off your necklace, tossing it onto the nightstand. The weight of the night clung to the air, thick and heavy, pressing down on both of you.

Ellie hadn’t moved from her spot at the edge of your bed, shoulders hunched, fingers tangled together in her lap. She was stiff, tense, like she was forcing herself not to look at you.

And maybe she was.

You were down to just your underwear, skin bare under the warm glow of your bedside lamp. You stood up, moving across the room with slow, deliberate steps, grabbing an oversized shirt from your drawer and tugging it over your head.

When you flopped back onto the bed, right next to where she was sitting, you felt her shift. Barely. Just the tiniest movement, like she was reacting to your closeness without meaning to.

You turned your head, looking at her. She was staring at her hands now, knuckles white where they gripped the edge of your comforter.

You smirked.

"What?" you drawled.

Ellie shook her head. "Nothing."

"Liar."

She exhaled, long and slow, like she was trying to collect herself. Her knee bounced again, her nervous energy filling the space between you.

You rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. "You mad?"

Ellie scoffed, finally looking at you. "Why the fuck would I be mad?"

You hummed, tilting your head. "I don’t know. Maybe ‘cause I spent Valentine’s with someone else?"

Her jaw clenched. There it was again—that flicker of something, jealousy twisting its way across her face before she could shove it down.

You smiled, slow and smug.

"I mean," you continued, drawing out your words, "you were so busy today, after all. Out with Dina, drinking, letting some random girl sit on your lap—"

"She wasn’t—" Ellie groaned, running a hand down her face. "Jesus, are you serious right now?"

You shrugged. "Just calling it like I see it."

Ellie looked at you then, really looked at you, green eyes sharp and searching. The tension between you both was suffocating, crackling like a live wire, like a fire waiting to ignite.

And then—

She reached out, fingers brushing against your thigh, just barely, just enough to make you aware of the heat in her touch.

You inhaled sharply.

Ellie smirked this time, tilting her head as her fingers lingered. "You don’t actually think I give a shit about Abby—do you?"

You laughed. Not loud—just a quiet, amused little chuckle under your breath. Like the thought of Ellie even comparing herself to Abby was so ridiculous, it was funny.

"God," you sighed, shaking your head, still smirking. "You’re so fucking stupid sometimes."

Ellie frowned but didn’t argue.

"Lay down," you told her.

She hesitated, like she wasn’t sure if she should, but then she did—slowly easing onto her back, staring up at the ceiling like it would give her answers.

You turned onto your side, elbow sinking into the mattress, head propped up on your hand as you looked at her. Studied her.

"You really think I would’ve picked her over you?" you murmured, dragging the words out, letting them settle.

Ellie tensed.

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head. "Wow. And here I was, thinking you knew me better than that."

She swallowed, her throat bobbing. Her hands fisted the hem of her hoodie, gripping the fabric like she needed something to hold onto.

"I mean, I guess I did have a nice time," you continued, voice featherlight, tipping closer to her. "The restaurant was beautiful. Expensive as hell. Abby’s just so... put together, you know?"

Ellie’s jaw clenched.

"And she was so sweet. Got me all these gifts, picked out the prettiest necklace—"

You reached up, dragging your fingers lightly across your collarbone where the necklace should be. You knew she was looking.

"And God, she was so..." You trailed off, exhaling a small, pleased hum. "Perfect."

Ellie inhaled sharply through her nose.

You smirked. Got her.

"But I guess you don’t care, huh?" you added, faux-disappointed. "You were too busy with Dina and your little party. Guess I was just supposed to sit around and wait for you?"

Ellie’s brows pinched. She turned her head toward you, finally meeting your eyes, guilt flickering behind the green.

You just blinked at her, expression unreadable. Waiting.

She swallowed. "I—"

"No, it’s fine." You exhaled through your nose, like you had just made peace with something disappointing. "I mean, if you don’t care, you don’t care. I won’t force you to."

Ellie flinched. "I— That’s not what I—"

You shook your head, shifting onto your back, staring at the ceiling now too. "Forget it, Ellie. Just forget it."

Silence.

Heavy. Suffocating.

Ellie stared at you, at the way your face was turned away from her now, at the way you had just shut her out.

She hated it.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Ellie didn’t move, didn’t say anything. You could feel her eyes on you, like she wanted to say something but didn’t know if she was allowed to.

Good. She should feel that way.

You sighed, shaking your head like you were just so disappointed in her. Then, before she could even react, you shifted—climbing over her, straddling her waist, pressing her into the mattress.

Ellie’s breath hitched. Her hands twitched at her sides, like she wanted to grab your hips but knew better.

"God," you murmured, staring down at her, fingers dragging up her chest, curling into the fabric of her hoodie. "You’re such an idiot."

Ellie swallowed hard. "I—"

"You didn’t even think to ask me what I was doing on Valentine's?" you cut her off, tilting your head, voice low and sharp. "Just assumed I’d be off on some date like some desperate little bitch? Like I don’t always spend that day with you?"

Ellie flinched. "No— I—I just thought—"

"Yeah, I know what you thought," you spat. "You thought you could ditch me, spend your night with Dina and whoever the fuck else, and I’d just sit around and wait for you?"

Ellie looked away. "I didn’t mean—"

"Shut up," you hissed.

She did.

You leaned in, your breath ghosting over her lips, your fingers tightening around her hoodie. Her hands clenched into fists against the sheets, body completely tense beneath you.

"I bet you didn’t even care what I was doing," you murmured, voice laced with venom. "Didn’t even think about me while you were at that party, huh?"

Ellie’s breath came out shaky, her eyes flickering up to meet yours. "I did," she whispered.

You scoffed. "Oh yeah? That’s why you had some bitch on your lap, right?"

Ellie squeezed her eyes shut. "That wasn’t—"

"You’re so fucking selfish," you continued, fingers dragging down her chest, over her stomach, stopping just above her belt. "You get to go off, do whatever you want, and I’m just supposed to sit around and be fine with it?"

Ellie was breathing heavier now, chest rising and falling beneath you, her hands twitching against the sheets. She wanted to say something. You could tell.

But she didn’t.

Because you were right.

You tilted your head, your fingers curling around the collar of her hoodie, yanking her attention back to you.

“What happened, Ellie, huh?” Your voice was smooth, dripping like honey but firm, unwavering. "You're mine."

Ellie stayed silent, staring up at you like you were something holy, something dangerous.

"Are you fucking stupid, or did you forget?" You dragged your nails up her jaw, tilting her chin up, making her look at you.

Her lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling like she was struggling to breathe.

She didn’t answer. Of course she didn’t. What could she even say? That she knew she fucked up? That she knew you had every right to be mad? That she hated the thought of you with Abby, hated that you went on a date, hated that you let her kiss you?

Ellie was selfish like that. Always was.

She just kept staring at you, eyes dark, full of something between guilt and desperation.

And you smirked, because of course she wasn’t going to fight you on this.

Then, slowly, you leaned down.

Her breath hitched the second your lips brushed against hers, barely even touching before she was already reacting—lifting her head to chase your mouth, hands twitching like she wanted to grab you but knew she wasn’t allowed to.

You let her suffer for a second, just hovering, letting your breath tease her, watching her fall apart before you even gave her anything.

Then, finally, you kissed her.

Ellie let out this soft, broken sound—something between a whimper and a sigh—like she’d been holding her breath since the moment you climbed on top of her.

She kissed you back instantly, desperate, needy, like she had something to prove, like she was trying to apologize without saying a single word.

But you weren’t gonna make it easy for her.

You pulled back just as quick, barely giving her a second of relief before you were already ripping it away.

Ellie’s lips were parted, her breath uneven, pupils blown as she stared up at you, dazed, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to move or if she had to wait for you to give her permission.

God, she was so fucking easy.

You pulled back completely, watching the way Ellie instinctively followed, like she wanted to chase after you but forced herself to stay put.

Then, without a word, you climbed off her, settling beside her on the bed. You didn’t look at her at first, just leaning back on your hands, legs crossed at the ankles, letting the silence stretch long enough for her to start squirming.

Ellie stayed on her back, still staring at the ceiling, but you could see her hands gripping the sheets, her knuckles going white.

Then you finally spoke.

"You’re gonna make it up to me."

Ellie stiffened. Her head slowly turned to you, eyes flicking over your face, searching for something—anger, maybe, or some kind of mercy—but all you had was that same unreadable smirk.

You tilted your head, watching her. "You do wanna make it up to me, don’t you?"

Ellie nodded instantly, sitting up slightly. "Yeah. Of course."

You smiled, pleased.

"Good," you said, voice smooth, tapping your fingers against your thigh. "Then listen carefully."

Ellie looked wrecked. Like she wanted to say something, like she wanted to explain, but she knew better than to try. Knew better than to test you when you were like this.

"You ruined this day for me, Ellie. You hear me?" Your voice was steady, sharp. "God. You had fun without me? Let some girl sit on your lap that wasn’t me?" You scoffed, shaking your head like the thought alone was disgusting.

Ellie flinched, her fingers gripping the hem of her shirt. "No—"

"And best of all," you interrupted, leaning in, "you came to my door, right when I was gonna let Abby in." You tilted your head, watching the way Ellie’s face froze. You let that sink in before delivering the final blow. "Let her have me."

You were lying, of course. But she didn’t need to know that.

Ellie’s breathing had gone shallow, her whole body stiff, jaw clenched. You could see the jealousy rising in her, the way her hands twitched like she didn’t know what to do with them.

"So," you continued, calm, tilting her chin up with your fingers so she’d look at you, so she’d really understand. "You’re gonna make up for all that. Do you get it?"

Ellie swallowed hard, her throat bobbing, and nodded. "Yeah," she rasped, voice barely above a whisper. "I get it."

She watches as you sit up, lifting your hips to remove your panties. She swallows hard, waiting for you.

Ellie barely had time to react before you shifted, grabbing onto the headboard as you moved, positioning yourself just above her face.

Her breath hitched, her hands gripping at the sheets like she was waiting for permission—waiting for you to tell her what to do.

"You want to make it up to me, right?" Your voice was teasing, low, but there was no room for argument.

Ellie nodded, her pupils blown wide as she looked up at you, desperate, waiting.

"Then do it."

As you move into position and take off your shirt and bra, straddling her face with your bare pussy hovering just above her mouth, Ellie's heart races. She looks up at you, her hands slowly reach up, grasping your hips gently.

That's your good girl.

Your hips begin to move, rolling and grinding against Ellie's mouth. She grips your hips tighter, spreading her legs wider beneath you. She sticks her tongue out, catching your clit with the tip. You moan softly, riding her face faster. She hums softly, taking your movements like a champ.

Ellie's fingers dig into your hips possessively as you bounce on her face. Wet noises fill the room - your pussy smacking against her mouth, her sloppy suction sounds. She sticks her tongue deep inside you, making you moan loudly.

You can feel her nose pressing against your clit with every downward thrust. The angle lets you grind harder against her tongue, chasing your orgasm. She looks up at you with glazed, fuck-drunk eyes, completely devoted to pleasuring you. Just like how it should be.

You loved her like this—obedient, eager, desperate to please. Making you feel better, making you feel good—she fucking should.

She was yours. And after that shit she pulled today, God, it was only right for her to make it up to you.

Her hands gripped your thighs like she was holding on for dear life, her breath hot against your skin, her eyes locked onto you like you were the only thing that mattered. And you were.

“Better make this count, Ellie,” you murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction, threading your fingers into her hair, tugging just enough to make her whimper.

“Because I’m still so fucking mad at you.”

Your movements become more erratic as you near the edge. Ellie's fingers flex against your hips, helping to support you as you ride her face with abandon. She can feel you getting closer, your pussy clenching around her tongue. She doubles her efforts, determined to make you come undone.

You throw your head back, arching your back as you reach the peak. Ellie opens her mouth wider, catching your release as it gushes out. She swallows hungrily, trying to drink every drop as you shudder and tremble above her. "Mmmphhh…”

You slowly come down from your high, your pussy still twitching as the last waves of your orgasm subside. Ellie keeps her mouth pressed against your folds, licking up every bit of your juices. Finally, she pulls away, her lips shiny and glistening.

"Good girl, but we're not done yet baby”

She looks up at you, doe eyed. A small amount of your juices drip down her chin. She licks her lips, swallowing the excess. She hummed, her voice soft and submissive, clearly eager to please you further.

Ellie obediently sits up, pulling her hoodie over her head and tossing it aside. She reveals her breasts. Crawling onto the bed, she positions herself above you, her knees straddling your hips.

She offers her hand to you, palm up. You spit into her palm, and she looks down at the saliva, then back up at you with a confused expression. You guide her fingers towards your center. She slowly inserts her fingers inside you, curling them upwards at your instruction.

As she fingers you, her other hand reaches up to play with her own breasts. She pinches and rolls her nipples between her fingers, a soft moan escaping her lips. Her hips start to rock slightly, grinding against your thigh. She's clearly getting turned on from pleasuring you.

You feel her fingers moving faster, more confidently inside you. She's learning quickly, hitting your spots just right. Her other hand leaves her breast to reach down, spreading your lips open so she can watch her fingers sliding in and out of your wet pussy.

You spread your legs wider, pushing your hips down to meet her fingers. "God yes," you moan softly. She watches your reactions closely, seeing your breasts rise and fall rapidly with your quickened breath. Her fingers curl again, making you buck your hips sharply. "Right there," you gasp.

Pressing hard and rubbing. "Jesus," you moan loudly, your back arching slightly. She sees how wet you're getting, how your body responds to her touch. She adds another finger, stretching you. Your inner thighs tighten, your heels dig into the mattress.

Ellie curls her fingers deeply inside you, her palm pressing firmly against your clit. Your eyes flutter closed, a breathy moan leaving your lips as you grind against her hand shamelessly. "So Beautiful," she whispers in awe, feeling your arousal coating her fingers.

She leans down, her face hovering over your breast. Without breaking eye contact, she sticks out her tongue, circling your nipple teasingly before sucking it into her mouth.

Her fingers move faster, hitting that perfect spot over and over while her palm maintains constant pressure on your clit. Your breasts heave with each laborious breath, legs trembling as another orgasm builds. "Oh fuck..." She notices your approaching climax and curls her fingers even deeper.

Watching your face contort with pleasure, she realizes how good she's become at pleasing you. Your moans get louder, more insistent…

With a choked gasp, you surrender to your climax, your pussy clamping down hard around Ellie's fingers. She continues to stroke you through your orgasm, prolonging every last shudder and twitch. As your release subsides, she slowly withdraws her fingers, bringing them to her mouth to lick clean.

Ellie swallowed, her lips still glossy, her eyes still blown wide as she looked up at you. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, trying to steady herself, but you weren’t going to let her think this was over.

“How was that?” she asked, voice raspier than usual, like she already knew the answer but needed to hear you say it.

You tilted your head, watching her carefully, dragging your fingers along her jaw, down her throat, feeling how she tensed under your touch.

“Better,” you admitted, your voice slow, teasing. Then you leaned in, close enough that your breath tickled her skin before you pulled back again, smirking.

“But don’t think I’ve already forgiven you.”

tag list ! : @reinam00n @macaroni676 @blackdykegirlblogger @monki-nat

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eliza-and-her-monsters · 2 days ago

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would anyone like to send me these asks while i keep cooking the next chapter(s)?? 🥺

(if nobody does this though you never saw anything)

Get to know your fic writer!

Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

Do you like constructive criticism?

Do you have your work beta'd? How important is this to your process?

How do you choose which POV to write from?

Do you prefer the beginning, middle, or end of a story?

Do you comment on stories you read?

Cltr+f "blinks" on your WIP & copy paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up

Link your three favorite fics right now

how does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?

what’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

how do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences?

How do you write smut scenes? Do you get very visual or detailed? How important is it to be realistic?

How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

What is the most-used tag on your ao3?

Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

Best writing advice for other writers?

Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

What fic do you wish you got more of a response on?

Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

What is your most and least favorite part of writing?

On average, how much writing do you get done in a day?

What��s your revision or editing process like?

Do you share rough drafts or do you wait until it’s all polished?

Do you start with the characters or the plot when writing?

Name three of your favorite fanfic writers.

Do you want to be published some day?

Five years from now, where do you see yourself as a writer?

What is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain?

How do you write kissing scenes?

How do you choose where to end a chapter?

Would you ever write commissions?

Share a snippet from a WIP

If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

Do you take a sadistic joy in whumping your characters, or are you more the "If you hurt them I would kill everyone and then myself" kind of person?

What mistakes do you keep making no matter how many times your beta corrects you?

Do you want to break your readers‘ heart or make them laugh?

How would you describe your style? (Character/emotion/action-driven, etc)

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

What do you look for in a beta?

Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

How long is your longest fic?

What’s your total AO3 word count?

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

Do you prefer editing as you write, or waiting until it’s finished?

What part of the writing process do you enjoy the most? (Brainstorming, outlining, writing, editing, etc)

Does anyone in your personal life know you write fic? if not, would you tell anyone?

Have you had a writer you admire comment on your fic? What was that like?

Why do you continue writing fics?

Thoughts on cliffhangers?

Something you hate to see in smut.

Something you love to see in smut.

Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

How do you deal with writing pressure (ie. pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc.)?

Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

What, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

What work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

When asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

What order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

What scene in [Fanfic Name] took the longest to write? What was difficult about it?

Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of [Fanfic Name]?

Do you have a favorite scene you’ve written from [Fanfic Name] story/chapter?

#fic writing #fic writer #ttpd vi x reader #vi x reader #vi x oc #vi arcane #vi fanfic #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams x oc #the last of us #kaiju no. 8 #kaiju no. 8 x reader

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stellamarielu · 1 day ago

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handsy

joel miller x female reader

summary: joel is hopelessly touch starved and you just can't seem to keep your hands to yourself.

content: nsfw, 18+, age gap, cursing, mutual pining, mentions of male masturbation, hand job, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, good girl, breeding kink [if you squint]

author's note: guys i’m sorry I know this isn't my usual aidan turner brainrot, but i’m rewatching tlou and i needed to write some joel miller smut. i mean, aren't we all horny for that old man?

—

To put it quite plainly, Joel was touch starved.

It had been a long time since he’d felt the hands of a woman on his body. Of course, given the current state of the world, he didn’t have much time to think about it.

But then he was all settled down in Jackson and his days were filled with mundane jobs, casual conversations, cozy living conditions, and you.

You lived in the little house across the street from him and although your relationship began with awkward smiles and shy waves, Joel found himself getting closer to you over time.

Now he was lingering on your front porch after you offered him coffee in the mornings and walking you into town when he had absolutely no business there, all to spend a little extra time with you.

From the beginning Joel somehow found himself not entirely annoyed by your persistence in breaking down his walls, and instead indulged in your constant questions and continuous attempts at bad jokes. Maybe it was because he felt bad ignoring your endless efforts to strike up friendly conversation; or perhaps he enjoyed your company because he was lonely, and you were an undeniably gorgeous young woman seeking out his attention. Even he was confused as to why someone like you would be putting so much energy into getting to know him. You were probably lonely too, Joel convinced himself that your friendly advances must’ve come from a place of hunger for basic human interaction.

He would’ve had no issue fulfilling your need for friendship and community if it weren’t for how handsy you were. Of course, Joel knew your touch was never sexual. It always came from a place of innocence, just a welcoming nudge on the shoulder or a casual hand grazing his bicep. You were just someone who showed your appreciation through simple acts of physical touch, but to Joel those little gestures might as well have been you dropping to your knees in front of him.

In fact, those thoughtless touches frequently made their way into Joel’s mind late at night when he couldn’t sleep.

He would think about the way your hands felt on his body; how soft and gentle they were. He would think about the way they brushed against his arms or his back, imagining what they’d feel like on his bare skin. He would fight against his own morality as his hand slipped into his pants touching himself at the thought of you. His fingers wrapping around his dick, holding back moans as he pictured it was your tender grip on him instead.

He was disgusting

That’s what he told himself now, standing in your kitchen with your delicate little hand caressing his forearm as you laughed about something he said that most certainly wasn’t that funny.

You had convinced him to come over for dinner, and who was he to deny a warm meal? But now you were inches away from him at the kitchen sink after you had argued over who would do the dishes. Both of you working together to wash up, and Joel couldn’t keep himself from thinking about the warmth of your body and how soft it felt against his.

It was all so domestic. You washing the plates then handing them over to him so he could dry and put them away. You were talking and laughing with full bellies and smiles on your faces. It was impossible not to soak in the simplicities of moments like this. And it was definitely impossible to ignore the way his skin was burning under your touch.

You knew you had a way of getting in other people’s personal space; touching others as you spoke to them. It was something you had always done, extending a hand in an effort to show you were listening or engaged. It was just a way of showing your appreciation and attention. Only, it was more than that when it came to Joel. Your relationship with him was strictly platonic, which was a real shame because you desperately wanted to touch him in more inappropriate ways.

You knew it was bad to think about him like that. He was a friend, yet you were constantly picturing what it would feel like to kiss him– to have your hands on him.

In an effort to fulfill these little fantasies, you were always finding ways to touch Joel. Obviously, it was only ever friendly, just softly grabbing his arm when you needed his attention or leaning your body into his when you walked side by side; such small moments of feeling the weight of his body beneath your hands, but it only ever made your secret obsession with him more intense.

Like right now, your fingers were curling into his forearm as you laughed and you knew you needed to pull your hand away before you trailed it all the way up his arm tracing every inch of muscle as you went. Joel was just so big, and strong, and rough– it drove you fucking insane. You had never felt like this before, so pent up with sexual frustration for someone. It was almost embarrassing how badly you wanted Joel to bend you over the kitchen counter and have his way with you.

You were ready to loosen your grip on his arm and pull away when you felt something coarse underneath your fingertips.

A scar. One of the many that littered his body.

You had noticed them before, but you had never felt them. Joel was wearing a short-sleeve shirt tonight, something he rarely did. He was always clad in long sleeves or jackets, which made you realize this was the first time you had ever touched the bare skin of his arm.

Your hand lingered on his forearm and your eyes were fixed on the scar underneath your fingers, and Joel just watched. He watched the way you stared as you felt his skin. And then you were moving your fingertips against him, tracing the mark there, and he had to keep himself from shuddering under your touch.

“There are so many.” Your voice was hushed as you studied him, looking at the scars painted all over his skin.

“Yeah well…” He was trailing off with each stroke of your finger against him, losing his train of thought.

“I’m sorry.”

The simple apology was all you said, but when your eyes met his, he could see the sympathy swimming in your gaze. You understood. That was one thing Joel appreciated about you more than anything– you understood each other. You respected his boundaries, never pushing him on the things he wasn’t willing to talk about.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.”

His smile was back, so gentle and kind as he looked down at you.

“Can I have my arm back now?” His voice was playful, and you realized you were still holding onto his forearm.

“Oh god, sorry.”

You let go abruptly.

“Sorry, I’m not the best at keeping my hands to myself.” You were joking about your bad habit of touching others too much.

“I’ve noticed.”

Joel was going back to work, drying a dish and putting it away in an overhead cabinet, avoiding your stare.

“Oh shit Joel. Sorry does it bother you? I’ll be more mindful from now on.”

Oh, you were humiliated. All this time Joel was annoyed by your friendly affection and you were just constantly touching him.

“No. no, doesn’t bother me. Just-“ He was speaking as he continued doing dishes, still avoiding eye contact with you.

“Just what?” You were prying, but you didn’t care. That’s how things often went with you and Joel– you asking too many questions and him putting up with it.

“Nothin’. Just doesn’t bother me that’s all. Don’t worry about it.”

He was sidestepping the conversation entirely now. But if it didn’t bother him, then what?

“Joel c’mon what were you gonna say?”

You were reaching for him again, this time grabbing his bicep. The feeling of his thick, muscular arm in your grasp nearly had your breath hitching in your throat.

He stopped what he was doing, giving in to your touch and turning to face you completely. His eyes were peering down on you, his expression unreadable.

“Just distracting. That’s what I was gonna say. Distracting.” He was just staring as he spoke, his voice stoic.

Distracting? Joel was distracted by your touch?

“But not… in a bad way?” You had to clarify before your mind started going down a rabbit trail.

“No. Not in a bad way.”

You felt a fluttering sensation fill your chest at his confession.

Was Joel saying he liked when you touched him? That he liked it so much it made him lose focus? There was sudden surge of confidence bursting through you as you ran your hand further up his arm. You found the hem of his sleeve, toying with it between your fingertips.

“How do I distract you?”

Doing your best to make your voice sound innocent you stared at the material of his shirt in your hands, too nervous to actually look him in the eyes.

“Just don’t know how you’re always so kind and sweet. Your hands are so gentle.” He was speaking quietly.

You allowed your eyes to find his after he complimented you, but you wished you hadn’t.

His gaze was fixed on you, searching your face in a desperate attempt to read the situation. You were inches away from each other, your bodies nearly pressed against one another with your hand still on his arm.

“Do you think about me in a way friends shouldn’t think about each other?”

The question was trickling from your lips and into the silent room. You were testing the waters, dipping a toe in the potential pool of shared desire.

“Because I do. I think about you all of the time.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you looked up at Joel.

“What it’d be like to kiss you, to feel your hands all over my body.”

You let your touch travel up to his shoulder and over to explore the broad expanse of his clothed chest underneath your fingertips.

“We shouldn’t.” His words were hesitant but his body didn’t move in the slightest.

“Why not?”

Joel could think of a million reasons why not. Starting with you being half his age and ending with the fact that sex could ruin the perfectly good relationship that had taken months to form between you.

But as he looked down at you, your lips all pouted and your eyes full of hope, he threw all caution to the wind.

Fuck it.

He placed both of his hands on either side of your face, bringing his head down and crashing his lips into yours.

His kiss was hungry and rushed but still somehow tender. Your mind was reeling at the taste of his mouth against yours. Your hands found solace at the nape of his neck, arms slinging up to rest on his shoulders as the kiss deepened.

Your kitchen suddenly felt so hot as the sweltering tension between you and Joel had finally reached it’s peak.

“Fuck sweetheart if you only knew half the things I thought about you.” His voice was breathless as he broke your kiss.

Joel’s mouth trailed down your jaw placing impatient kisses on your skin.

“Tell me.” You were practically begging as you moaned at the feeling of his warm lips on your neck.

“Think about those sweet little hands of yours on me.”

He was nipping and sucking behind your ear. You weren’t sure if it was the way his mouth was caressing your skin or the words he was speaking between kisses, but it had a whine slipping from your lips.

“Where Joel?” The words were a whimper coming deep within your throat as he continued his assault on your neck.

“Jesus Christ sweetheart you’re gonna kill me.” He was muttering into the curve of your shoulder and the hum of his words against you had you losing your mind.

“Do you think about them here?” Gaining just an ounce of composure, your voice was calm and collected as you slid your hands down his torso.

You were careful to feel every little detail of his body as you let your touch wander lower. The tense muscles of his abdomen were hard to ignore as your hands found the button of his jeans.

“All the time sweetheart.” He was admitting to his dirty thoughts. Bringing his hands to thread through your hair and pulling your gaze to meet his so you could see the seriousness in his eyes as he spoke.

“Think about how soft they’d feel wrapped around me.”

Oh. It was prevalent now more than ever that Joel had entered an entirely new headspace. The way he was talking to you, the way he was looking at you; It was all fueled by complete and utter sexual desire, and you couldn’t get enough. You wanted to hear more filthy words come out of his mouth, you needed it.

“Joel..” You were all but moaning out as you unzipped his pants, eager to get your hands on him.

He was pulling you in for another hungry kiss as you shoved his jeans down just enough to get your hands into the waistband of his underwear. Here you were in the middle of your kitchen with your hands down Joel’s pants– something you didn’t foresee happening when you invited him over earlier that day. But the two of you were so fucking pathetic and needy, having finally given into your feelings for one another. There was no time to waste, you needed to feel every single inch of him right here next to your kitchen sink.

The groan that left his lips when you finally had his cock enveloped in your gentle touch was enough to send a rush through your entire body. You pumped him up and down making sure to maintain a slow pace to purposefully draw another sinful noise from his mouth.

Just as you thought, your mild movements had the man in front of you sighing out in pleasure. It was a sigh of true relief; you wondered about the last time Joel had been with someone like this. The thought spurred you on, making your hand move faster from the excitement of being the first person in a long time to make him feel this way.

Joel’s jaw tensed and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head when your eyes flickered down to his dick. You were watching your own hand as it worked to bring him closer to completion. He wasn’t accustomed to this– having a pretty young thing handling him like this. There was no way he was gonna last long, not with your delicate hands sliding on his cock and your innocent gaze peering down between your bodies.

In seconds his hand was on your wrist halting your movements.

“Joel-“

You were ready to protest but your words were caught in your throat as he lifted you onto the kitchen counter. His lips were back on yours in a messy kiss while his hands fumbled with your jeans, practically ripping them from your body.

“Need to feel ya darlin’.” He was panting out against you when his hand came in contact with your core, the thin material of your panties stopping him from touching your bare center.

You didn’t have to feel them to know how wet your panties were. They were drenched the second your hand was on Joel’s arm earlier. All you had to do was think about the man and a pool of arousal would appear between your legs.

“Fuck you’re soaked.”

The words were laced with pride as he felt the ruined cloth with his fingertips. You wanted to moan at the feeling of his hand putting even the tiniest bit of pressure against that needy spot between your legs. You wanted some sort of relief– needed to feel him touch you.

As if he could read your mind, Joel was pushing your panties to the side and gliding a finger over the wetness pooling at your opening.

“If I knew you were this needy for me, would have done this a long time ago.”

As the words left his lips he was slipping a single finger into you at an agonizing pace. Slowly moving it in and out while you gripped at his arms for some sort of stability.

Fuck– even just the one finger moving in and out of you insanely slow was enough to have you seeing stars. So when he added a second you nearly dug your nails into Joel’s arm hard enough to leave marks.

His fingers were working into you, each stroke more mind numbing than the last. He was pushing and curling them and the little noises leaving your mouth were absolutely pathetic.

“Your little whimpers are so pretty baby.”

Baby. All these endearing pet names he was calling you had you falling apart. You were preening underneath Joel’s touch and every time he called you sweetheart, or darlin, or baby, you were further subdued into a state of surrender for him.

“So pretty’n sweet just for me.” He was mumbling with his fingers knuckles deep inside you.

You could feel the pressure building in your core with each deliberate movement of his fingers. Your gaze found his and the look of need consuming him pushed you closer to the edge. Your eyes were locked on one another, your forehead pressed against his as you gripped his arms tighter.

“C’mon sweet girl, let me hear it.” Joel’s words were a low growl as he coaxed your orgasm from you.

“Wanna hear the pretty little sounds you make when you come undone.”

His whisper was the final blow that had you spiraling toward release. You were chanting his name as you clenched around his fingers.

Your chest was heaving, and you could hardly think straight but you didn’t hesitate to pull Joel closer to you.

He was standing between your legs as you sat on your kitchen counter, your chests almost touching and his hard cock inches away from meeting your entrance.

“Joel please.” You were out of breath and nearly speechless, still shaking from your climax, but you needed the satisfaction of Joel filling you. You wanted more than his fingers.

In an instant, he was lining himself up with you and pushing his tip in just enough to make you groan in pleasure. Hearing you beg for him like that– his name dripping from your sweet lips, Jesus he’d do anything you asked.

You were moaning out satisfied little hums with each inch of him that filled you. He was pushing into you slowly savoring every pulse of your walls around his cock.

“So tight sweetheart.” His voice was low as he watched between your bodies. His eyes were staring at your sweet little cunt as you sucked him in deeper and deeper, so needy to be filled– so greedy for him.

You could only moan in response. The feeling of him stretching you out had the coil in your abdomen already tightening again.

He was pushing into you to the hilt and you instinctively grabbed at his shoulders, gripping and pulling at him in pleasure. You just needed to feel more of him– all of him. Your hands ached to feel every square inch of his body.

With your fingers splayed out on his back, Joel pulled out only to thrust back into you fully. Doing this over and over again until you were nearly screaming out underneath him. He could feel your fingertips digging into his shoulder blades which only made him drive into you deeper.

He was thrusting and you were a moaning, writhing mess against him, your bodies meshing together on the tile of your kitchen counter. The lewd sounds of whimpers and skin slapping filled the room and all you could think about is how close you were to coming apart again. Your legs clenched around Joel’s waist as your core strained.

Without warning, he brought his hand between you, letting his thumb fall to your clit. He was rubbing lazy circles into your bundle of nerves while his dick repeatedly hit the perfect spot inside you and your body nearly went limp.

“Got another one for me?” His words were broken by grunts.

“Wanna feel you squeeze around me while you cum sweet girl.”

His dirty words were going to shove you right over the edge. With each word he spoke, you pushed yourself closer to the finish line wanting nothing more than to please him.

You felt your body begin to shudder and your second orgasm of the night set in.

“Atta girl. There she is. Good girl.”

That was it. The words of encouragement you needed to completely let go. You were whimpering and gripping onto Joel as your release rushed over you.

The way you were clenching and squeezing around his cock made Joel’s head spin. You were nearly pushing him out, it was so tight and warm and Fuck- he was losing it.

You were barely tethered to earth as he continued sliding in and out of you. His pace was ruthless as he chased his own high. He was fucking you straight through your orgasm, the feeling of it too much for the both of you.

His hands were pawing at your waist, holding onto you as he thrusted relentlessly. The breathy moans and inaudible profanities coming from his mouth signaled his impending release.

You were pulling him in closer with your hands on his back, pushing him into you deeper.

“I want you to cum inside.” You were whining out.

You weren’t sure how you were even forming coherent sentences at this point but the only thing more important than regaining your sanity was the idea of Joel spilling into you when he finished.

“Please Joel, wanna feel it.”

There you were begging for him again. He had absolutely no self control when you spoke to him like that. And when he pulled back to get a good look at you, he almost lost himself entirely. Your gaze was glossed over and your eyelids heavy, you were completely fucked-out on his cock. It was enough to finish him off.

The look in your eyes and the feeling of your walls so tight and inviting around him, had Joel coming undone. He was leaning forward and burying his face in the crook of your neck as he let out a long drawn out moan.

His load was shooting into you all wet and warm. It was coating your insides and making you hold on tighter to the man doubled over on top of you.

You sat there, your bodies molding together, breath catching and hearts beating. Both of you in shock over how you ended up in this position after a harmless meal shared at your kitchen table.

“So…” You were still breathless as you spoke, trying to gage how Joel was feeling about your current situation.

“Should probably finish those dishes huh?”

He was picking his head up from the comfort of your shoulder and tilting his neck to motion over to the sink next to you.

He was wearing the goofiest smile all sex drunk and proud.

If Joel’s expression told you anything; that wouldn’t be the last time the two of you end up fucking on your kitchen counter.

my masterlist

#she did it! she wrote for joel miller!#sorry but i need peepaw BAD #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller imagine #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character smut

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ellieabbyy · 2 days ago

Text

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lor210 · 1 day ago

Photo

The last gif is hitting a little too close to reality about now.

THE LAST OF US ⇢ 1x03 | LONG, LONG TIME

#the last of us #fav

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00valentina-writes00 · 2 days ago

Note

hello! I’ve read like twenty of your stories in like two hours. I’m in awe. And I’d like to request a Sevika x reader story? Maybe one where reader is feeling rather self conscious and Sevika tries to get through to them with words but that’s not what the reader needs (sex). (Im heavily implying smut) but you don’t have to, I just wanted to compliment your works!!

♡♥︎ Mine ♥︎♡

You wake up to the faint hum of Zaun’s undercity, the distant clatter of machinery and the occasional burst of chatter from the streets below seeping through the thin walls of Sevika’s apartment. Her arm is draped over your waist, her hand resting lightly on your stomach. The weight of it feels comforting, protective, but today it makes you tense. You’ve been avoiding this closeness, this intimacy, for days now. Your insecurities have been gnawing at you, whispering ugly truths in your ear. Your thighs are too thick. Your stomach is too soft. She’s not going to want you like this.

Sevika stirs behind you, her chest pressing against your back as she shifts. Her voice is low, gravelly from sleep. “You’re thinking too loud.”

You stiffen. “I’m not thinking about anything.”

“Bullshit.” Her hand tightens slightly on your stomach, fingers brushing against the soft curve there. “You’ve been dodging me all week. What’s going on?”

You shrug, trying to shake her off, but she doesn’t budge. Her grip is firm, insistent. “It’s nothing, Sevika. Just leave it.”

She exhales sharply, her breath warm against the back of your neck. “Don’t give me that. You know I don’t do well with cryptic bullshit. Spit it out.”

You swallow hard, your throat tightening. You don’t want to say it. You don’t want to give voice to the thoughts that have been plaguing you, but you know Sevika won’t let it go. She never does. “I just… I feel disgusting. Okay? My body’s… it’s not good enough. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Sevika snorts. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You whirl around to face her, your cheeks burning. “It’s not stupid! You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand,” she interrupts, her voice sharp. Her grey eyes lock onto yours, piercing and unyielding. “You think I give a damn about what you look like? About a little extra weight or whatever the hell you’re obsessing over? News flash, darling—I don’t. I never have.”

Her words hit you like a punch, and you blink, stunned. Sevika’s never been one for sugarcoating, but this feels different. There’s a rawness in her tone, a ferocity that makes your chest tighten.

“But…” you start, but she cuts you off again.

“But nothing,” she growls, sitting up and leaning over you. Her copper prosthetic arm glints in the dim light as she braces herself on the mattress, caging you in. “You’re mine. Every damn inch of you. And I’m not letting you talk yourself out of that.”

You stare up at her, your heart pounding. Her presence is overwhelming, as it always is—towering, muscular, scarred. Her dark hair falls across her face, framing those sharp, angular features. Her lip piercing catches the light, drawing your eyes to her mouth, to the way her brownish-black lipstick smudges just slightly at the edges. She’s beautiful, in a way that’s all hard edges and raw power, and it makes you feel small in comparison.

“Sevika…” you whisper, your voice trembling.

She leans down, her nose brushing against yours. “You need to stop thinking so damn much,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your lips. “Let me show you how much I want you. How much I need you.”

Her hand moves from your waist to your thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh there. You shiver, your breath catching as she grips you harder, pulling your leg up to wrap around her hip. The movement is possessive, demanding, and it sends a jolt of heat straight to your core.

“Tell me you want this,” she demands, her voice low and rough.

“I… I want this,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

She smirks, a wicked, predatory thing that makes your stomach flip. “Good.”

She doesn’t waste any time. Her hands are on you, rough and insistent, shoving your shirt up and over your head before you can even think to protest. Her mouth finds your neck, teeth nipping at your skin as she works her way down. Her prosthetic arm moves with a precision that’s almost unnerving, the cool metal brushing against your ribs as she strips you bare.

You’re exposed now, completely vulnerable under her gaze. You want to shrink away, to hide from the intensity of her stare, but she doesn’t let you. Her eyes rake over your body, cataloging every curve, every imperfection, and instead of disdain, you see something else. Hunger. Need.

“you’re beautiful,” she growls, her voice thick with desire.

You shake your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I’m not—”

She silences you with a kiss, hard and bruising, her tongue pushing past your lips to claim your mouth. It’s not gentle, not tender—it’s possessive, demanding, and it leaves you breathless. When she pulls back, you’re panting, your chest heaving.

“Don’t argue with me,” she snaps, her eyes blazing. “I don’t have the patience for your self-loathing bullshit. You will not disrespect my girlfriend like that.”

Her hand moves between your legs, fingers sliding through your wetness with a rough, almost careless ease. You gasp, arching off the mattress as she teases you, her touch just this side of too much.

“See this?” she murmurs, her voice a low purr in your ear. “This is how much your body turns me on. How much I fucking crave you.”

Her fingers sink into you, deep and unrelenting, and you cry out, your nails digging into her shoulders. She doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, her rhythm punishing as she fucks you with her hand. Your thighs tremble, your body tightening around her as she pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

“Look at me,” she commands, and you obey, your eyes locking onto hers. Her gaze is intense, unwavering, and it feels like she’s staring straight into your soul. “You’re perfect, alluring, and godlike. Every fucking part of you. And I’m not letting you forget it.”

You cum with a strangled cry, your body arching off the mattress as she works you through it, her fingers relentless. When it’s over, you’re shaking, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Sevika smirks, pulling her hand away and licking her fingers clean with a deliberate slowness that makes your cheeks burn.

She moves off the bed, and you hear the sound of her rummaging through a drawer. When she turns back to you, she’s holding a strap-on, the thick, curved silicone gleaming in the dim light. Your breath hitches, your body already thrumming with anticipation.

She straps it on with practiced ease, her movements confident and unhurried. When she climbs back onto the bed, the weight of her presses you into the mattress, her body hovering over yours. Her grey eyes bore into you, and for a moment, it feels like she’s looking straight through you, past all your walls and insecurities.

“Tell me you you’re pretty,” she says again, her voice a growl.

You nod, your voice trembling. “I’m…I’m pretty Sevika..”

Her lips curl into a wicked smile. “Good girl.”

She doesn’t wait, doesn’t give you time to second-guess. She pushes into you in one smooth, brutal stroke, the stretch of her filling you completely. You gasp, your back arching as she bottoms out, the sensation overwhelming.

“Fuck,” she groans, her head dropping to your shoulder. “You’re so hot. So fucking perfect.”

She starts to move, her hips pistoning into you with a relentless rhythm. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, punctuated by your gasps and moans. Her hands grip your love handles, holding you in place as she fucks you, her pace unforgiving.

“You’re mine,” she growls, her voice rough with desire. “Mine, and I’m never letting you go.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and you cling to her, your nails digging into her back as she drives you closer and closer to the edge. Your body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve alight with pleasure.

“Sevika, I’m— again-”

“Cum for me,” she demands, her voice a low snarl. “Now.”

You obey, your body shattering as pleasure crashes over you in waves. She fucks you through it, her rhythm never faltering, until your entire body is trembling with the force of it.

When she finally stills, her body pressed against yours, you’re both panting, your chests heaving as you try to catch your breath. She drops her forehead to yours, her grey eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

“You’re mine,” she repeats in a whisper, her voice rough, “and I’m not letting you forget it.”

You nod, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Yours,” you whisper back, your voice trembling.

She smirks, that wicked, predatory thing that makes your stomach flip. “Good girl.”

And then she’s moving again, her hips rolling against yours, and you realize with a gasp that she’s far from done with you.

“Sevika—”

“Shut up,” she growls, her voice low and dark. “I’m not done with you yet.”

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #the last of us #sevika x reader smut #sevika x you #sevika imagine #sevika x y/n #sevika headcanon #sevika i love you #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #sevika

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sometimescharlolette · 21 hours ago

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JOEL MILLER X F!READER (BRAT TAMING)

Synopsis: You disobey Joel, putting your life at risk once again, his patience runs out, and he teaches you a lesson.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: +18, age gap, p in v, rough sex, punish sex, dirty talk, possessive behavior, degradate, orgasm denial, age gap not explicit

A/N: Hello pretty people, valentine's day is coming, and I thought I'd write a few things to celebrate this special day. There will be five in total, starting today and ending on the 14th. I hope you enjoy this idea as much as I do. In any case, comments and feedback always motivate me to keep writing and trying to improve. Kisses 💜💜

How many times would Joel have to repeat himself until your stubborn little head got it through your thick skull? Keeping you within the perimeter wasn’t some arbitrary punishment—it was survival. He wasn’t the bad guy for trying to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed. Or worse, turned. The thought alone made his stomach churn, a bitter taste rising in the back of his throat. He had already lost too many people. He wasn’t about to lose you, even if it meant keeping you under lock and key.

And yet, there you were. Again.

He found you near the HQ containment zone, cigarette dangling from your lips, laughing at something some idiot had whispered in your ear. Smoke curled from your mouth, slipping between soft, pink lips as though the world wasn’t on fire around you. As if you had no care at all.

Joel never wanted this job. Never wanted to be responsible for you. But Tess, of course, had volunteered to keep an eye on you, which meant he’d been dragged into this mess, forced to play babysitter to a reckless brat who didn’t seem to give a damn about how dangerous things were outside those gates.

“Let’s go.”

His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument, the crunch of his heavy boots against the gravel matching the unwavering determination in his eyes. He didn’t slow as he approached, didn’t hesitate as he wrapped his fingers around your wrist, yanking you away from the wall you were leaning against.

“Wait—” you whined, twisting in his grip, but he didn’t stop. The cigarette slipped from your lips, embers snuffing out against the cold ground. You cast a glance at the others, as if hoping one of them might step in. But no one did. No one ever did. Not when it came to Joel.

With a frustrated growl, he had enough. In one swift motion, he hauled you over his shoulder, one arm locking around your thighs as you yelped in protest. You kicked, fists thudding against his back, hair falling over your face as the blood rushed to your head.

“Joel, put me down! You caveman—”

He ignored you, jaw clenched tight, stride unwavering as he carried you back to the apartment. Your struggles were useless against his iron grip, every squirm and protest met with nothing more than a gruff sigh. Only once he crossed the threshold, locking the door behind him, did he finally let you go—unceremoniously dropping you onto the worn couch.

You landed with a huff, limbs sprawled in a graceless heap. “What the hell was that?” you snapped, glaring up at him. “I’m not a damn child.”

Joel exhaled sharply, running a rough hand down his face. His patience was gone, his body taut with frustration. His dark eyes locked onto yours, voice low and edged with exhaustion.

“No. But you sure as hell act like one.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching as his gaze pinned you in place. He was tired—tired of chasing after you, tired of dragging you back from the edge when you so eagerly danced on it.

Joel stepped closer, looming over your sprawled form on the couch. He could see the defiance in your eyes, the stubborn set of your jaw. It was infuriating, but it also stirred something primal in him. He had to put an end to this reckless behavior, one way or another.

"Listen up, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once," he growled, voice rough and low. "You can't keep pullin' this shit, darlin'. It ain't safe out there."

He grabbed your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. His calloused thumb brushed over your bottom lip, a rough caress that felt a jolt through you. "You're playin' with fire, and you're gonna get yourself burned. I won't let that happen."

Joel leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Maybe it's time I taught you a lesson about listening in' to your elders." His other hand slid down your side, coming to rest on your hip. He squeezed, fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"Wh-what are you doing?" you stammered, a flush creeping up your neck. You tried to pull away, but he held you firm.

"Shh, just relax," he murmured, voice a low rumble. "I'm gonna make you understand, one way or another." His hand slid higher, brushing over the curve of your breast. He could feel your nipple stiffen beneath the thin fabric of your shirt.

Joel captured your mouth in a demanding kiss, swallowing any protests. His tongue delved past your lips, claiming your mouth with a hunger that stole your breath. He kissed you until you were dizzy, until you could only cling to him for support.

When he finally pulled back, your lips were red and swollen, his chest heaving. "You're not leaving this house until I say so," he declared, voice rough with desire. "And if you try, I'll just have to punish you again."

His hand slid under your skirt, finding the heat between your thighs. He groaned at the dampness he found there, a finger tracing your slit through the fabric of your panties. "Fuck, you're already so wet," he muttered. "Guess you like bein' manhandled like this, don't you?"

He ripped your panties away, tossing them carelessly to the side. Then his fingers were on your bare flesh, stroking through your slick folds. He circled your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your hips buck up against his hand.

"Joel..." you whimpered, head thrown back in ecstasy. "Please..."

"Please what, baby?" he taunted, fingers delving deeper. "Please stop? Or please don't stop?" He pumped two fingers in and out of you, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot inside.

You could only moan in response, lost in the pleasure he was giving you. He worked you closer and closer to the edge, until your thighs were trembling and your walls were clenching around his fingers.

"Please, Joel, keep it up, I'm, I'm gonna cum," you moaned breathlessly, your head thrown back on the arm of the couch, your chest rising and falling with the scorching heat building in your pelvis, but before you could get caught up in the sensation of pleasure, he pulled his fingers out.

Joel smirked at the confused, frustrated look on your face as he abruptly pulled his fingers from your aching, desperate cunt. He could see the need written all over you, the way your body trembled and your chest heaved with each ragged breath. It was a delicious sight, seeing you so wound up and wanting. He planned to take his time with you, to make you beg for release like the needy little thing you were.

"Please, Joel, I can't-- ah!" Your protests turned into a yelp as his palm cracked against your sensitive pussy, the sharp sting only adding to the fire burning under your skin. He could feel your slick coating his hand, your arousal dripping down your thighs.

"Listen up, you brat," he growled, voice low and dominant. "You don't get to cum until I say so. This is your punishment for being such a reckless little fool."

Joel grabbed your ankles, pushing your legs up and back towards your shoulders. He held you in a tight hold, folding you nearly in half as he loomed over your exposed, dripping cunt. His cock strained against his jeans, rock hard and aching to be buried inside you. But he had other plans first.

Leaning down, he ran his tongue along your slit, tasting your essence. "Fuck, you taste so good," he murmured against your flesh. "Sweet as honey." He delved deeper, tongue plunging into your entrance as he ate you out with eager.

Your moans filled the room, back arching as much as his grip would allow. He could feel your walls fluttering around his invading tongue, desperate for more. But he pulled back, leaving you wanting once again.

"No, please Joel, I need-- I need to cum," you whined, voice high and needy. Your hips bucked, trying to grind against his face, but he held you still.

"Not yet, you don't," he chided, giving your clit a sharp nip. "You don't get to cum until I say so. Until I've had my fill of you."

Joel released your legs, letting them fall to the couch. He undid his belt and jeans with quick, rough movements, freeing his hard cock. It sprang up, long and thick, the swollen head already leaking with need.

Joel fisted a hand in your hair, gripping it tight as he rubbed the leaking head of his cock along your cheek. The scent of his arousal filled your nose, making your mouth water with anticipation. You could feel the heat radiating off his thick shaft, the weight of it as he painted your lips with his pre-cum.

"Open up, baby," he ordered, voice rough with lust. "If you do a good job sucking my cock, maybe I'll let you cum. Would you like that?"

He pressed the tip against your lips, demanding entrance. Your gaze flicked up to meet his, seeing the dark hunger in his eyes. He wanted to use your mouth, to fuck your face until he spilled his load down your throat. The thought sent a thrill of excitement through you.

Reaching up, you wrapped your small hand around the base of his thick cock, feeling it throb against your palm. Slowly, you parted your lips, letting the head slip past them. Your tongue darted out, lapping at the slit, tasting the salty essence leaking from the tip.

"Fuck," Joel groaned, hips jerking forward slightly as your tongue caressed his sensitive flesh. "That's it, baby. Take it deeper."

He pushed more of his length into your mouth, the thick head hitting the back of your throat. You had to relax your jaw, letting him slide in further. He was so big, stretching your lips wide around his girth. You could only take about half of him before you started to gag, throat convulsing around his shaft.

"That's enough," Joel growled, pulling out abruptly. Strings of saliva connected your mouth to his cock, dripping down your chin. He wiped the head of his cock across your cheek, smearing your spit mixed with his pre-cum across your skin.

"On your knees," he commanded, voice rough and demanding. "I want to fuck your face properly."

You quickly complied, slipping off the couch to kneel before him. The hardwood floor was cold against your knees, but the heat of his body was warm against your face. You looked up at him, waiting for his next instruction, ready and eager to please him.

Joel gripped your hair tighter, fisting it like a handle as he began to thrust into your mouth. His cock pushed past your stretched lips, hitting the back of your throat with each pump of his hips. Drool leaked from the corners of your mouth, dribbling down your chin and onto your heaving chest as he used your face.

"Take it, you cock-hungry slut," he grunted, eyes dark with lust as he watched your lips stretch obscenely around his shaft. "Fuck, your mouth feels so good."

He set a brutal pace, fucking your face with long, deep strokes. The head of his cock slammed against your throat again and again, making you gag and choke around him. But he didn't let up, too lost in his own pleasure to care about your discomfort.

"Touch yourself," he ordered, voice strained. "Play with that needy cunt while I use your mouth."

You quickly slid a hand between your thighs, fingers delving into your soaked folds. You circled your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles as Joel continued to pound into your throat. The dual stimulation was almost too much to bear, pleasure and pain blurring together until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

Joel could feel his release approaching, balls drawing up tight against his body. He thrust harder, chasing his end with single-minded focus. With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep in your throat and held himself there, spurting jet after jet of hot, thick cum directly down your gullet.

You swallowed convulsively around him, trying to gulp down every drop of his release. Some of it leaked out, dribbling down your chin and onto your heaving tits. When he finally pulled out, you gasped for air, coughing and sputtering, face flushed and eyes watering.

"Good girl," Joel praised, tucking himself back into his jeans. He hauled you up by your hair, crashing his mouth against yours in a filthy kiss. He could taste himself on your tongue, the salty flavor of his cum mingling with the sweet taste of your own saliva.

"Now, beg for it," he demanded, hand drifting down to rub your clit hard and fast. "Beg me to let you cum, you dirty little brat. Beg me to give you the release you so desperately need."

Joel smirked down at your lascivious state, taking in the way your face was flushed and smeared with the evidence of your debauchery. He could feel your hips writhing against his fingers, desperate for more friction, more stimulation, more of anything that would bring you the release you so desperately craved.

"Please, Joel, please let me cum," you whimpered, voice high and thready with need. "I'll do anything, I'll be so good, just please let me cum!"

He could feel your pussy clenching around his fingers, greedy and hungry for more. He rubbed your clit harder, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with rough, calloused fingers. His other hand slid up your body to grope at your tits, squeezing the soft mounds roughly.

"Beg harder," he demanded, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. "Convince me of how badly you need it. Tell me how much you want to cum all over my fingers like the desperate little slut you are."

He pumped his fingers faster, plunging them in and out of your soaked cunt. The obscene sound of your arousal filled the room as he fingered you hard and fast, the wet squelch of your pussy echoing off the walls.

"Please, oh god please!" you cried out, head thrown back in ecstasy. "I need it so fucking bad, Joel. I'm so close, I can't-- ah! I can't take it anymore!"

He could feel your body tensing, your walls starting to flutter around his invading digits. He knew you were on the verge of cumming, teetering on the razor's edge of the most intense orgasm of your young life.

"Cum for me, you filthy girl," he growled, rubbing your clit with quick, rough circles. "Cum all over my fingers like the vicious brat you are. Show me how badly you craved it."

With a scream of pure pleasure, your body convulsed, back arching as your orgasm crashed over you like a tsunami. Your pussy clamped down on his fingers, rippling and squeezing as you gushed all over his hand, soaking his palm and dripping down onto the couch.

Joel worked you through it, fingers pumping and rubbing, drawing out your pleasure for as long as possible. He could feel your juices flooding out of you, your body shaking and trembling as the aftershocks rolled through you.

Finally, as your orgasm started to subsid, he pulled his fingers out of your dripping cunt. He brought them up to his mouth, sucking your delicious essence from the digits and groaning at the taste.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he murmured, eyes dark with renewed lust. "I think I'm going to keep you, baby. Keep you here, so you won't put your pretty ass in danger"

He pulled you close, crashing his mouth against yours in a esurient kiss. He could taste himself on your lips, the flavor of your shared pleasure mingling together. His cock was already hardening again, straining against his jeans and pressing insistently against your hip.

"You will take seriously what I say," he declared, voice rough and low. "If I tell you not to leave the perimeter, you don't, if I forbid you from going out alone, you obey. Understand?"

You could only nod, still dazed and pliant in his arms, your body humming with satisfaction. You knew that no one would ever make you feel as good as he did. And god help you, but you couldn't wait.

"Good," Joel mused softly, pulling your limp body closer to him, holding you affectionately, "cause I don't want to chase you around to save your ass anymore."

#joel miller #the last of us #dilf joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller smut #joel tlou #pedro pascal

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