#like i feel so inspired idk how to explain it

[sunny-knight]

Please Reset Your Save File :)

idk what came over me but here take this forgettable au wingdings undertale ARG ass image

speaking of being a mystery image with secrets to be unlocked, i’m gonna refrain from yapping. do the sleuthing yourself I believe in you

ok…. fine….I cant resist…. BUT DO THE TRANSLATING YOURSELF IM NOT DOING EVERYTHING FOR YOU

Ill start by explaining my proccess cause it was quite eventful!

The jumping off a cliff towards something was inspired off of this tiktok :D

Thought it worked GREAT for a character who was so dead-set on his goal he destroyed himself in the process of achieving it… And thats all I had in mind, Wingdings reaching twords his goal (a star/the player) and the rest I just went along with as I drew

I didn’t intend on the background being black, was just a placeholder, so once I finished the line art I fiddled with the color. thought some sort of “blue screen of death” would go well with the themes of what happens to him since he is IN a game. so the universe literally restarts (resets :3) itself to get rid of a glitch (him)

My theory currently is that his goal was to become some sort of player/gain the ability to reset, and once he did that, the game saw him as an error/glitch, so got rid of that- bro IS Turbo from wreck it ralph

After that whole idea- I was looking at some references to replicate the text and it made me go “OOOHOOO” when I saw the QR code like “oooo I could make my own and have some fun with that…” and so I did- and decided to link my original idea for that!

Reference:

I had fun making some differences in the wording to fit the situation

In the end, 2 silly illustrations that are fun to flicker between!

talking about the actual drawing though:

The cliff Dings is running off of has echo flowers because I SWEAR those are important. trust.

Him not wearing gloves is meant to depict how little he cares for his own safety in his last days. I did the same thing in my IM SANE amv!

The “star” having an eye is meant to show how its both the player, and seeing the stars/surface that Wingdings is reaching for.

The wingdings font covering Dings’ face/eye socket is meant to symbolize that perhaps he feels defined by his inability to communicate like other people naturally can.

“Ths Stars, They Cry Out Your Name” is my favorite thing in this… from Wingdings’ perspective, the only thing that matters, that understands him, that TRULY values him…is THE STARS. its like this goal that he has that will make him feel valued. Getting to the surface = being “worth it” But truly, the stars are the PEOPLE that care about him. Asgore, Alphys, Sans, people that are genuinely concerned over his obviously deteriorating mental health- they CRY out his name, not “call” like I had originally planned.

“66%” hehehehhe funy gaster numbr

ok and last thing- Im gonna cry remembering this dialogue from the official Clock App

its so important for this AU, PLEASE

[tired-biscuit]

general!kiba’s surprise when you initiate sex for the first time. watching him train that day had you thinking all sorts of thoughts about him, his speed, the way he moved so effortlessly. so gracefully. the way he manhandled his troops when they were sparring. has him growing desperately hard when you sit on his lap and whine about how bad you want him when you go to your room for the night. let’s you fuck him. which is an entirely new experience. let’s you set the pace as you bounce up and down on his- *gets yanked off stage by comically large cane*

- 🐀

BRING LITTLE MOUSEY ANON ONTO THE STAGE, BRING THEM BACK RIGHT NOW!!

18+ fem!reader / royalty AU

series masterlist

he tries so hard to let you have control.

but goddammit, it's hard. it's really fucking hard to just watch you ride his cock and hold you by the hips so that you can try and take him better, deeper, and simply do... nothing.

he watches your face as you straddle his lap and hold the tightest grip he's ever felt from you on his shoulders. he's reclining in the armchair that's positioned in one corner of your shared bedroom; the one that's big enough for you to sink your knees in now that you're riding him, and that he sometimes just plops on to people watch whilst they tend to their chores in the courtyard below.

feeling how soft the cushioning is underneath him as you slowly bounce up and down, kiba thinks it's borderline bizarre. he still isn't quite used to owning a house this big and with so many riches stored inside it, even less to having a literal princess, blue blood coursing her veins and everything, sitting on his dick.

but he certainly won't complain about it.

no, the pay is too good to grumble about, even if he has to risk his life to acquire it from time to time. the expensive furniture, limitless supply of food and drink and comfort are all worth it, too. so he watches in silence. continues to sit in his brand new armchair like he's a king lounging on his throne, despite the fact that that's what your father's job is supposed to be.

and as for the king's daughter, well... the general just finds you adorable. the pace he's let you decide on is slow; careful. he wants to go faster, to take you in the usual fashion he prefers, which is in a much rougher way than this. wishes to ravage you until there'd be nothing left of you and he'd simply pass out from exhaustion right after and wake up in the morning feeling like his soul isn't stuck inside his body quite right. but alas, he can see that you're struggling, so he remains dormant.

and it's evident, your struggle. you've only taken a little more than half of his length and sweat already covers your brow in a layer so thick that it makes your skin gleam. one sleeve of your nightgown hangs loosely off of your shoulder, revealing your collarbone, which he's since littered with small bruises and bite marks, as well as the curve of your breast.

there are plenty of them, the love bites, because you've been at it for a long while. he's never been a patient man, but the moon that now sits high in the starry sky and drapes you both in its gentle light, can serve as his witness that he's still letting you do your thing.

though, his patience has pretty much run out by now.

because god, you're still so tight even after all this time; almost unbearably so. he knows it's because of the fact you're overthinking this entire thing, but the way your pussy squeezes him whenever he pushes into you by another inch makes him want to bare his teeth to the world and growl like an animal. to lift his hips and ram himself into you until you'd be so full of him that your little hole wouldn't even be able to leak a single droplet of his cum.

but he can't cum yet. silvery strings of your arousal and the saliva he's spat between you to make the job easier for you, now bridge the narrow gap between your bodies the moment your clit finally kisses the tuft of dark hair below his waist. he looks down at the contact and sure enough; there's a prominent ring of milky slick around the base of his cock when your hips stutter and you try to go back.

it's a small victory you've just achieved, albeit terribly short-lived for his taste, he thinks.

he supposes he understands the reason as to why; it's only been a short while since he's taken your virginity, after all. your most intimate parts are still sensitive, and the deep angle the position provides, as well as the way his thick cockhead now strokes some inner part of you that feels soft and awfully tender - too tender - proves to be something that greatly overwhelms you.

he holds you in it, however, the position. with his hands still on your hips, his grip suddenly turns tenacious and his knuckles flash stark white as he fights against you to keep you exactly where you are. it seems like he's done playing your game.

"hold still," he says, his voice slightly breathless but firmly gruff. it's the same assertive tone he uses when he's talking to his soldiers.

and it's also the same tone he spoke in whilst he'd been on the training grounds earlier today; shirtless, golden skin dewy from sweat, body moving effortlessly despite its great size. his jaw had been set, and you definitely noticed a rather intense look flare up in his dark eyes when he'd spotted you watching. even his presence alone had become more intimidating in mere seconds.

perhaps it had been because of the focus, or the pesky need to impress that tends to gnaw on him as of late. nevertheless, he looked just about ready to crush the skull of the unlucky rookie who'd had the balls to take him on either way.

and lucky him, it seems that he did actually manage to impress you by the end of the sparring session, because you're here now; doing this. you've offered yourself to him by taking charge right after you'd kissed him passionately by stepping onto your tippy-toes and pulling him in close. until he was groaning into your sweet mouth and grabbing greedy handfuls of your ass right over the nightgown.

you couldn't help yourself. something about the way he looked so graceful whilst fighting and teaching the younger men had lit some wicked urge inside you which you just couldn't ignore from how ceaselessly it kept clawing at the walls of your mind. the way he fights is like a dance, despite that he's made it clear to you that he won't and never will spin you around the ballroom of your father's castle.

he's just so-

you mewl, your body squirming as if trying to get away from him when he lifts his hips up to test out your newly-updated limits and abruptly breaks your train of thought. a pout forms as you say, "th-that hurts."

"it'll pass," he tries to console you coarsely. his throat feels like it's on fire, god you just feel so good. "just... ah, just give it a moment."

your whining fills the room in an instant at the way he brushes you off, and it grows louder by the second. his eyes want to roll into the back of his head from the sensation of being entirely inside you at long last. meanwhile, your own want to nearly pop out of your fucking sockets because of the overbearing fullness he makes you endure.

minutes pass; long minutes spent by panting and exchanging messy kisses. you listen to his request as you stay still and try to cockwarm him, as he calls it. he's deep in your belly, throbbing and growing even bigger, hotter. it makes your pulse skyrocket, especially when he readjusts on the armchair and eases his grip.

the tip of his nose bumps against your chin as he makes you tip your head back so that he can kiss your throat. his tongue is warm as he licks the sweat off your skin. the amount of salt that he tastes now only makes him feel guilty for straining your body to its limits like this.

"ride it," he urges you softly. unlike before, his voice is a mere coo now. "when you're ready."

"how?" you ask, swallowing hard. you sink your nails into his shoulders again as if readying yourself for the ache, but when you roll your hips to test it out, it's almost gone.

"however you want," he mumbles, smiling faintly at the little gasp you let out when you repeat the same movement for a second time. his face is nearly buried in your tits from how closely you cling onto him. he could die as a happy man like this, truly. "just fuck yourself on my cock until you cum... i am at your disposal."

heat sears your face because of his lewd language and the way he offers himself to you so freely. you doubt you'll ever get used to it, but it's nice to know that you've got the big bad war general wrapped around your finger. "...but i don't know how."

he chuckles at your sudden timidness. "i'll help you."

and just like that, his hands guide you to a slow, sensual rhythm again. up and down, up and down, up and down - you're taking him entirely this time. pride washes over you despite the loud squelching noises the wetness that you emit now causes, especially when he grunts out a quiet, "good girl... good lil' princess."

and when his thumb circles your clit, it's like heaven opens up just to swallow you whole.

[chirpsythismorning]

Noah saying, "I don't think Mike likes Will back" doesn’t equate to him not knowing about byler being endgame, and here's why.

Noah and a majority of the main cast have been given a rough idea of how the show will end, broadly in terms of the entire story, but also more specifically in terms of their personal character arcs.

Actors are out here acting. This is nothing new.

Any of the the main cast insisting they have no idea how the show ends at all, are lying. This is because their safest bet is playing dumb.

There's nothing safe about them revealing they know how the show ends, least of all to an audience that is dying for any spoiler they can get their hands on. It just puts them in a position to have to think very carefully about everything they say, which is something they already have to do regardless.

It's a lot easier to just say you don't know, because then you can give vague answers or even just flat out lie and get away with it, as opposed to saying you know and then having everyone take whatever you say as gospel since you admitted to knowing what's coming.

David is pretty much the only actor who goes around explicitly saying that he knows how the show ends, which is something he's been doing consistently since s2 premiered back in November of 2017.

Something David has also mentioned on a few occasions since then, is how much input the Duffer's let him put into his character. He's literally praised them for having a collaborative process, because it allows him to play Hopper more authentically.

And so yes, I do think it's safe to assume that the Duffer's extend this approach to their other cast-members as well, at least among the main cast-members. I do not at all think this is some exclusive treatment only David gets, because this seems like more just something the Duffer's do out of respect to the actors. How else can they expect them to portray their character accurately if they don't know what they're going through or what their motives are or what's right for them going forward?

We obviously won't know all the details about who knew what at what times or how long they've known certain things, until they themselves come out and reveal after the fact, if they even do it at all.

Still, I do think that when it comes to byler actually happening, it's going to be very satisfying for fans who saw it coming.

This is because we're dealing with something the Duffer's are predicting a good portion of the ga will be bitter about, with the main argument at the forefront being that Mike and Will came out of nowhere.

And so, how do you think they're going to combat that?

With the literal proof.

They have David, who has been used happily as their main scapegoat through the years, whose words are literal proof that things were planned for quite some time. We have him saying all the way back in 2017 that there are easter eggs in the first season which we won't understand until the end, how it's beautiful and surprising and it will explain why certain characters acted certain ways...

Not only that, but there's just no way people are going to be able to use the whole 'it came out of nowhere' argument (at least without looking like idiots), because we'll have the Duffer's themselves out here confirming shit like blue meets yellow in the west and other theories that were entirely intentional (as we predicted).

And because of this, I think I can guess roughly how things will go moving forward and it's honestly already panning out in some ways I expected.

Because while season 4 ends in a way that seems to be leading towards Mike and El ending up together from the perspective of the ga, there are numerous details in the subtext and just outright in the literal text that's trying to tell us this is not actually the case.

And so now the Duffers and everyone who knows are in this limbo of tricking their audience in plain sight, hoping to keep this act going for as long as they can, and that's obviously not easy to do.

What I think makes it most difficult is that they want to surprise fans, but they also want them to be satisfied and happy with the ending.

And that is why the whole Milkvan straight bait is indeed very near its end.

If they want ST to live on as a cult classic with rewatch value, they can't keep this straight bait going on into the last season.

They'll want Mike and El to definitively give off platonic elmike for s5, with byler being endgame and Willel being wonder twins.

This is why Mike and El's dynamic HAS to blatant in a way that will come across as platonic to the ga in s5. And the shift needs to be immediate, otherwise byler will not be satisfying.

I feel like a lot of bylers already predict this, which is why a lot of us assume that the milkvan breakup with happen (or be acknowledged as having already happened) as early as 5x01 or 5x02.

Honestly, I do think that Will's painting being plastered on merch recently was one of the big moments which is representative of a shift we're already seeing start to happen. We're going to continue to see milkvan be promoted as elmike, while byler is being promoted in a way that is, well byler.

What I think is most noteworthy in terms of how they're approaching this conflict going forward, is how the actors themselves have talked about it when asked.

For example, there was one Con specifically that I remember Noah attended right around when Vol 2 dropped, where he mentioned byler at least 3 times. Two times when asked and one other time unprompted.

And no one ever talks about this, but full serious you guys, it was dead silent at that con whenever he mentioned byler. There were maybe a few hoots and claps, with Noah literally looking kind of worried. It was obvious he noticed the silence the first time it got brought up, and so he felt the need to mention it a second time when asked about what he shipped and then AGAIN, with a note of defensiveness in his voice:

"Byler is just, at it's peak right now, okay, so definitely ship that--"

And while in the background, all you hear is maybe 2 bylers supporting him, otherwise, it's mostly crickets...

Let's try to remember that while Byler is a lot bigger now undoubtedly, unless you're active online, most of the ga does not see it coming. And so byler is by no means fan-service. If anything it's show-runner service.

This means Noah had literally no obligation that day to go all out with referring to byler in a positive hopeful light, nor does he still. And yet he did and he hasn't slowed down much since.

His approach makes sense. Because his character has been revealed in canon to be in love with the other, he can freely say he ships it and even take the opportunity to hype it up in an attempt to open peoples minds to it, who might not have considered it before. And he can also do this because in canon, Will assumes Mike doesn't love him back, so Noah can just co-opt Will & the ga's assumption that Mike doesn't feel the same, and get away with it, without anyone whose close-minded giving it a second glance as evidence.

If they wanted to avoid queer-bait and get people to not look at byler that way, they had the chance to. A majority of the ga didn't read byler romantically and so they could've just kept things casual by not bringing it up, nor humoring it at all.

The byler tag didn't even hit 30k followers until AFTER vol. 2 dropped! Most people were oblivious (including bylers).

Undoubtedly, Noah in particular around that time, was a big part of why people started to look deeper on their own and it's how a lot of people ended up here, now with 277k of us.

Like seriously, listen to me ya'll, Noah would NOT put himself in a position to broadcast his support for byler like this and the Duffers would probably be begging him not to, knowing he would be subject to a lot of criticism in doing so, if byler was not in fact where the story was going. Point blank, period.

His tweet "vol 2 got me shipping byler over everything' has to have been the most obvious stunt of all. He was not saying that to be quirky or to appease a few thousand people, he was saying it to wake up the hundreds of thousands that might be open to it, and who just need a push to see what's right in front of them.

Then we have Millie's approach. Her approach for a long time has been to say stuff that she thinks the audience wants to hear, that being anything pro-milkvan. And up until Vol 1, she was still mostly on board with referring to it in a super positive light.

She also insisted during s4's run that she has no clue how the show will end (lies, Millie is a good actress pls give her more credit), and this also explains why she's tended to feel somewhat comfortable lying about milkvan positively...

Though as Vol. 2 neared and ever since, a shift has started to happen, where in interviews Millie is getting a lot more into depth and real about El's personal arc. She mentioned right before Vol 2 dropped that El was insecure in her fight with Mike at the start of the season because she thought he only considered her a superhero and didn't see her as more than that.... Then more recently she has doubled down saying that she is her own superhero, having been shaped a little too much by the men in her life.

SHE IS OUT HERE SAYING WHAT WE'VE BEEN SAYING FOR MONTHS (SOME YEARS)! SHE KNOWS HER CHARACTER BETTER THAN ANYONE!

Honestly, even though I understand they are trying to trick people into thinking they're clueless and so I guess I'm happy for them that they've succeeded in that, I can't help but admit I feel a little disappointed upon hearing some bylers say that they are convinced Millie doesn't know, but that Finn does and even Noah does, but that she's entirely in the dark about it and that they're okay with this I guess?

First of all, why would anyone be okay with that? Why would we be okay with Millie not having insight into where her character is going. What, do you guys think they're just going to pull up on her at the last minute like, "yeah sorry we didn't tell you sooner, but this is where your character is going to end up. anyways back to byler!...."

I don't care, it would seriously be fucked up to keep her in the dark about this because El IS important to the story and Millie, just like everyone else, deserves that closure so that she can understand her character better and therefore perform to the best of her ability. She also deserves a say somewhat in where she feels her character should go, just like David has said the Duffer's afford them.

Now lastly, when it comes to Finn, I think most assume at least he is aware of byler, and I do agree he knows, so let's start there.

Again, we don't know when they found out and so for now I don't feel like going too far into guessing the exact point and so I won't. However, I do think that Finn also as of late has had an approach that manages to somehow be very different from both Noah and Millie's, and for reasons that also make a lot of sense.

Because Finn's character is assumed to not return Will's feelings, he has to be more careful than all of them. This is arguably why he goes to the least cons out of everyone (most recently everyone attended a con in person, with Millie present over zoom even, but no Finn or Noah... seems very intentional at this point).

Why I think they need to be more strict with Finn in particular is because he's in the exact opposite situation as Noah.

His character is assumed to not return Wll's feelings, and so he can't go very far with what he reveals. What we've got up to this point is actually quite revealing enough as it is, which is why that's all we're getting for now.

What I find interesting is that Finn's approach is quite similar to David's. I know Noah is known for spoiling things, but arguably Finn is just as bad, he's just a lot more sneaky about it. He has a harder time lying, which is why I think he actually looks uncomfortable when asked milkvan questions. Not necessarily because he doesn't ship it like lots of bylers assume, but because he's having to dance around and lie outright and he probably feels bad.

His most common approach though is that he likes to make jokes and say things that could be looked at from multiple perspectives, where it could be looked at now as milkvan evidence, while simultaneously being looked at from the future as byler evidence. Him saying 'I think everyone knows how Mike feels about Eleven' was him quite literally gaslighting the audience just like Mike did with El in s4:

'I care for you so much" "I say it" "You know how I feel about you--"

But do we? Do we really? Or does the audience THINK they know, and so Finn can get away with saying something cryptic and vague like that? When really, in the future, everyone will be laughing looking back because to Finn and all the cast, it was actually abundantly obvious Mike's feelings for El were platonic and his feelings for Will were romantic.

Same for his response when asked if El and Mike would be together and happy in season 5. He dances around it, doesn't deny it, but also doesn't confirm it. Instead of just being like yes they will (which is what we're being led to assume is inevitable at the end of s4, and so he has no reason to dance around it), he starts by deflecting, talking broadly in terms of the stories overall ending, only to say he hopes they find happiness... Again his answer fits with the ga's assumptions now, but it also fits with the surprise of byler in the end as well.

Also important to note that Finn and Noah are the ones to repost about the show most out of everyone from the main cast. A LOT. In fact, they were the only main cast-members (besides Brett LOL) out of everyone to repost about the episode title name for 5x01 being released on ST day...

And it's because THIS is their character's big revelation going into the final season and they had a say in it going this direction. Even if it's what the Duffer's wanted all along, they still gave them and everyone to an extent, a say in things. And now that it's all slowly happening, they are front and center standing by that decision, because they insisted they could do it and wanted to.

I can't say for certain that things will just be smooth sailing from here on out though, by no means is everything just going to shift completely.

There is still undoubtedly this element of the Duffer's and everyone wanting to have the pleasure of tricking the audience. In an industry where everything that happens is usually expected and predictable and therefore rarely exciting, and with an audience that is always figuring stuff out before their supposed to through leaks and stuff, byler is something they have finally been able to successfully trick most of the audience to think will never happen. And that is fucking impressive when considering the heaps of evidence.

And yet still, they don't want to be yet another show that is considered to have a bad ending.

So, going forward, I think things will continue the way that they are, but we'll slowly see them be more comfortable in this element of acknowledging endgame in a way that will be easy to look back on positively when everything is all said and done.

Because if byler is endgame, IF they want people to look back and go oh Oh OH during all those moments where they misread things, but now they can see the other side of it, there needs to be more of an approach that gives Byler equal playing field and allows the ga to actually start to appreciate it and even want it and root for it. Which means buh bye predictability and heteronormativity and hello surprises and gayness (but also be open ended about it so the homophobes will stay tuned until the last second).

[laugtherhyena]

Character inspo things, i thought about making these a lil while ago when the trend was going around but i could never think of enough characters to fill it all the way (i still can't, but eh fuck it)

[mari-lair]

sorry for going insane over fma 03 and fmab and reblogging post after post of it

It will happen again

[funkle420]

*takes my last adderall so i can finish all my work in one day*

*finishes one (1) assignment*

*gets distracted and spends the rest of the day hyperfocusing on delicious in dungeon again*

[iiboronii]

i think that i might've posted about it before but i <3 all the little -ler blogs on here. i'm being so fr. nothing clears my skin more than seeing a -ler blog answering questions. i love you guys please keep making silly little -lers.

[gibbearish]

i will say arguments online did get a lot easier once i started learning to just directly say when people are misinterpreting things, to the point i hesitate to even call most of them arguments anymore? like it's easy to get caught up in responding to the other person as if their interpretation of what you said was correct because you do still disagree with their conclusion based on that, but like once you point out that there was a misinterpretation involved it becomes a lot easier for people to then follow that to "maybe the fact you had to misinterpret me to make those arguments says something about them too"

[luvsavos]

til a surprising amount of people theorize that the scarlet mystery man is an elder dragon/black dragon in human form

[eggmeralda]

been really autistic about this playlist the past few days

[poppyseed799]

My favorite pastime: roleplaying characters and just making them soso weird and then pulling up the DSM-5 to try to diagnose them

[tenrose]

I'm reading Rebecca for the first time, and ignoring the obvious gothic inspiration, psychological thriller (which I'm way too early in the book to comment on), from the very first chapter, the style of narration vividly reminds me of The Haunting series.

[rafey-baby]

clumsy!reader is still bad at yoga and yoga instructor!rafe wants to keep her all to himself...

18+ mdni!

c/w: rafe being touchy & blatantly flirting w her, him getting jealous, slightly suggestive, reader being oblivious

wc: 1.9k

idk if anyone missed him but he's back & better than ever !! (after a small vacation that ended up being almost 3 months :D)

some parts are more or less inspired by this, this, this & this ask

part 1

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe is in the midst of helping someone fix their posture when he hears the gates of heaven opening in the form of a melodious giggle chiming from the back of the room. He lifts his head in order to detect the source of such a vibrant sound; noticing that his favorite client is currently directing her attention towards some guy next to her.  

The joyful expression she’s sporting makes a scowl paint over his features. Why is this random man making her laugh like that?  

“Yeah, you got it. Just keep workin’ on it though,” he quickly dismisses the person he was helping before stomping over to find her practically lying on the floor with the guy’s hands on her calf, along with his mat pulled far too close to hers for Rafe’s liking.   

“I think you should bend it more here, right? I’m honestly not too sure,” the guy chuckles as he tries to figure out what she’s doing wrong.  

“No cause I have no idea how everyone else makes it seem so easy. It’s so hard to get it right, I feel so stupid half the time,” she complains with a huff, not even noticing Rafe looming within earshot.  

“Seriously, I thought this was a beginner’s class but it feels like some of these poses are meant for like literal pros,” he continues with a shake of his head. 

“I know, right?” another peal of laughter bubbles from her throat as she shifts into a seated position, giving up altogether.  

“Everything alright?” Rafe doesn’t mean for his tone to come out so clipped but there’s something in the way the guy’s touching her so freely that makes his hands curl into fists. 

He keeps reminding himself over and over again that this is a client, which means that he can’t just smash his face in— no matter how severely his fingers are itching for it right about now.  

“Oh, I was just trying to help her with this,” the guy explains in tandem with her head turning to look at Rafe. She seems startled.  

“Well, why don’t you focus on your own form for a change? I mean, s’kinda my job to help her, yeah?” he scoffs, making the guy halt his movements in a state of surprise before he's lifting his hands up in apology.  

“Damn, sorry dude,” he mutters out from under his breath while Rafe merely glares at him with the words stay professional bouncing around his skull.  

A tense silence follows, making her grow quiet while she takes slow sips from her water bottle as a distraction; wondering why he seems so bothered to see her talking to someone else.  

However, when he finally turns his attention towards her, she shrugs it off as him merely having a bad day because it seems like the only logical explanation to her. Because at the end of the day, him being jealous makes as much sense to her as her math homework in high school.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe is convinced that the universe is purposefully trying to poke and prod at his limits, giving his carefully curated facade opportunities to crack— allowing for the borderline psychotic aspects of his personality to breathe through the crevices. Because only a week later, Rafe sees her entering the gym with another guy she seems to be awfully friendly with. 

“That’s crazy, I don’t even wanna know what Kie said to that,” she rolls her eyes jokingly while he’s showing her something on his phone.  

”Yeeeah, guess you could say she wasn’t the biggest fan,” he laughs in a carefree manner, raking a hand through his disheveled, sand-colored hair.  

“For some reason I’m not surprised,” she mutters out before she notices Rafe standing in the hallway leading to the yoga class. “Oh, gotta go so I’m not late. See you after?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be here. Think Pope said he’s gonna join me for leg day, so we’ll see if I’m still standing when you get back. But you have fun,” he offers her a wave before walking away towards the locker rooms. 

And at last, her warm eyes meet Rafe’s. “Hi,” her voice is soft, nearly shy; a stark contrast to her demeanor only a few seconds ago.  

“Hey,” he greets her in a casual manner, although his mind is somewhere else entirely. “So, that your boyfriend or?” he tries to approach the subject with nonchalance because it’s not necessarily any of his business.  

He’s not even sure why he’s asking— keeps telling himself that he’s just curious and tries to appear friendly by making small talk. After all, some clients have given him feedback on his apparently intimidating aura, claiming they don’t always have the courage to ask for his help because they get anxious he’ll judge them. Therefore, it's something he’s been trying to work on.  

“What? Oh, JJ? No, he’s just a friend. He goes to the gym here, so I usually just tag along with him. Free ride, right?” she answers with a lighthearted tone.  

“Right. Yeah,” he scratches at the back of his neck, contemplating whether or not to ask the next question since he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries. However, there’s something deep in his stomach that grumbles at the prospect of her being in a relationship, makes him feel nearly insane and ultimately, makes the decision for him. 

“You, uh, you got one?”  

“What?” she asks, features coated in confusion. 

“A boyfriend, I mean,” his gaze is unwavering, eager.  

“Oh, um— no, I don’t. Why?” her puzzled eyes flit over the lines of his countenance, seemingly trying to grasp onto his motives. 

“Just, uh…wondering. I mean, he’d be kind of a dick if he’s not drivin’ you here himself,” he shrugs, a strange sort of relief making his shoulders feather-light when she lets out an airy giggle in response.  

“Yeah, honestly sometimes wish I had one just so he could drive me around and stuff,” she jokes while they begin to pad over to the class. 

“You don’t have your license yet?” he raises his brows in surprise.  

“No, I do. I just don’t really like driving. I don’t know why but it’s so stressful to me. Usually try to avoid it as much as I can,” she elaborates while gathering her hair away from her face and securing the strands into a ponytail.   

“Oh yeah? Well, if you ever need a ride home just let me know, alright?” he says, fighting the urge to tuck a loose tendril that has managed to escape the restraints of her hair tie back behind her ear.  

“Really? That’s so sweet of you! But, um, wouldn’t wanna be a bother,” the hesitation is present in her voice.  

“Nah, couldn’t bother me if you tried,” he promises, wishing they could talk for longer. However, the ocean of people flooding inside the room behind them cuts their conversation short.  

“You’re just saying that,” she dismisses him with a playful scoff. 

“M’being for real. You’re my favorite face around here. Plus, makes my job more fun when you’re always stumblin' on your feet,” he can’t help his mouth from twisting upwards at the way her eyes round out in response to his words. 

“Shut up. I’m gonna go set down my mat now, before there’s only space right in front of you,” she offers him a giddy smile that makes him grin like an idiot. Then, she’s tiptoeing away from him in order to locate a vacant spot. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe has become awfully familiar with these newfound feelings of fondness for the girl who’s by far the most helpless little bambi he’s ever encountered. He thinks she should honestly pick another hobby at this point, because maybe yoga just isn’t meant for her. However, he’d never say any of that out loud because even the thought of not seeing her getting all flustered while she loses her balance whenever he’s near makes him feel physically unwell.  

He’s not entirely sure whether her apparently oblivious brain simply hasn’t caught onto the fact that he so clearly has a thing for her, or if she’s well aware and merely chooses to be a tease about it. Nonetheless, the moment she walked into the class today, he could feel his workout shorts tightening and all she’d offered him was a simple smile.  

And now she’s right in front of him, all tangled limbs and pretty eyes blinking up at him— practically begging for his guidance and for him to put his hands all over her (something she doesn’t seem to mind all that much).  

“You put this cute little set on just for me, huh?” he rasps out while his thumb smooths over the bubblegum pink fabric; feeling it out as he pinches the stretchy fabric between his fingertips, making her breath get caught in her throat in the process.  

“Oh, um— just wanted to…try out some new stuff I ordered. You think it’s cute?” she stares at him with something bashful glimmering in her eyes. 

“Mhm. Fits you nice,” he mumbles out as his gaze lingers on the way the tight material wraps around her figure, not leaving much to the (his) imagination. He bets it’d be so easy to just rip right through these cute yoga pants and pull her closer with a firm grip on her hips before burying his face between her plush thighs.

“Thanks,” she peeps out, flustered.  

He tries to shake off the improper, filthy thoughts with a clear of his throat when he gets caught staring at her for a little too long.  

“So, you actually wanna bend your leg on the other side of your body on the mat and support your foot with your left arm not the right one. Easy to get them confused,” he chuckles as she shifts her position according to his instructions as best as she can. 

“Like this?” she seeks reassurance with a soft tone.  

“Yeah, just like that, Bambi. Good job,” his mouth quirks up some while her mind begins to cloud over in response to his low cadence. She’s not entirely sure what exactly it is about him that makes her feel so fuzzy on the inside, but she thinks it’s nice, thinks she wants to always have him this close to her— wants him even closer.

She doesn’t remember the last time she’s had such an intense crush on someone— slowly turning into a crazy person by each second of not knowing whether he’s merely flirting with her for his own amusement or because he’s actually into her. However, she thinks she’s embarrassed herself in front of him far too many times for the latter to be true in any reality.  

“Then need you to move your right hand here,” he adjusts her form with a grip on her wrist while he maneuvers her to his liking; tingles erupting all over the skin he skims over with his fingertips.  

Her head is spinning.  

“See? Knew you could do it. Feels nice, hm?” he rumbles out, letting his hands rest on her shoulders for support, despite the position not really requiring it.  

She hums her response because she doesn’t trust for any coherent words to stumble out of her mouth at the moment, all the while Rafe is desperately trying to not pay attention to the nearly painful situation in his pants.

[almostempty]

Never made it as a wise man

(joel miller x f!reader)

Description: Joel solves your car troubles for free, and you try to return the favor with a homecooked meal. When you accidentally interrupt his jerkoff session, you take a chance and help him out.

Note: y’all are out here answering god’s toughest questions, like what if emotionally unavailable Joel was loved unconditionally? or what if Joel was the Mothman?, and I deeply appreciate that. 

However, today, I am here to answer a question that nobody asked– What if Joel was a divorced dad rock kinda guy? 

You know, like, listening to Nickelback on an old-school boombox in his garage, or unironically singing Creed on the way to work, or bonding with Ellie over Papa Roach? And also, (inspired by a genius) what if he was a little bit pathetic? 

Anyway, I present to you: divorced dad rock dilf, Joel, ta-da! (my humble submission for @hellishjoel‘s hot dilf summer challenge) obvs dedicated to: @auteurdelabre

ao3: read here | masterlist: here | part 1.5 here

Tags/warnings: AU no outbreak divorced Joel x f!reader, Sarah is not mentioned, but Ellie is your adult coworker, reader is clueless about cars and so am I, gratuitous smut and horny thoughts, implied jorkin’ joel but no witnesses, hand job, fingering, premature ejaculation, touch starved kinda loserish but hot divorced dilf joel, he’s a real tiddy guy in this one and idk why it just happened, pwp, is it a crackfic? maybe, but i meant it wholeheartedly so idk  

WC: 4.2k

You pull onto the long driveway, hoping to see Joel’s truck. You forgot to text first to see if he would be around, but he did tell you to come by if you ever needed anything. You mostly just hope he’ll be willing to accept your gift. 

Last week, he’d helped you out by fixing your car. He told you what the issue was, but he might as well have been speaking another language when he described it. You had already brought coffee and a plate of cookies to your coworker Ellie to thank her for dragging you to Joel’s to ask for help. Being in a new town was hard enough, but you had no idea how you would handle the price for diagnostics, let alone whatever the repair would’ve cost. You tried to offer Joel the cash you had as a thanks, but he wouldn’t accept it. You tried to argue with him, but Ellie told you it wasn’t worth arguing with him. He wouldn’t budge. Instead, he had offered to change your oil for you, making you feel even more indebted to him. 

At first, the most you got out of Ellie for intel on Joel was that he was the one responsible for you having to listen to “One Last Breath” and “Lips of an Angel” at ungodly early hours. Ellie claimed that her music taste was deeply influenced by Joel, and somehow, Ellie is always in charge of the music at work. When you rolled your eyes calling it divorced dad rock, she let it slip that you were right about that. 

That explains a lot when you remember the brief time you spent in his house and shop. The house was clean inside but not tidy. Stray beer bottles and travel mugs dotted the counter and coffee table. But the shop had all the Divorced Dad Barbie accessories. 

The project car and crates of assorted parts. The beer fridge and the plastic lawn chairs in the corner for bullshitting with whoever stopped by. The boombox on the workbench with the stack of CDs. And the fading calendar from another decade with the naked woman kneeling on the beach. 

You hadn’t been able to stop your eyes from darting to her sultry expression and swimsuit model-perfect breasts when Joel had been explaining what he was going to do to your car. You wondered if the heat burning in your cheeks had given you away, but he didn’t notice then. Ellie sure did, though, and she had rolled her eyes at you, noting it had been up so long she even forgot it was there. 

Luckily, Ellie didn’t notice your eyes lingering on Joel’s body. You weren’t trying to be a creep, but the way his arm flexed when he opened the hood of your car gave you some feral brand of intrusive thoughts. The ratty band t-shirt and the faded jeans were working for him, too, or at least they were doing something for you. Time slowed when your eyes trailed over his arms and down the muscles of his broad back. He just seemed so… solid. You finally understood what your friends back home meant when they said they wanted to climb a man like a tree. You had jumped a little when Ellie slammed the fridge behind you and shouted at Joel about how he can’t just live in the shop drinking shitty beer and eating beef jerky. She had grabbed your arm to drag you to the house for an iced tea while he worked. 

Her comment sparked your idea. You figured Joel must be a utilitarian type. He probably lives on frozen pizzas–or even worse, those Hungry-Man frozen TV dinners–instead of making himself something fresh. Maybe he’s one of those guys who got really into smoking meats instead. Either way, you hope the lasagna you made from scratch and the other tray of cookies will be an acceptable thank you for his help. He can’t refuse it if you already made it, right? 

You pull up next to a truck, assuming it’s his, and that he’s home. Before you grab the tray, you pause to check your reflection and adjust your breasts in your white tank top, making sure your cleavage pokes out as temptingly as possible. 

You check yourself in the mirror with a look. Why does it matter what you look like? It’s not like you’re trying to fuck your only (almost) friend’s dad, right? Although she calls him by his first name, not Dad, so maybe there’s like a loophole or something if she’s adopted. You think about the calendar model and her perfect tits hanging on the wall over his tools. It can’t hurt to just do a little harmless flirting, right? Maybe you aren’t even his type anyway. 

After knocking on the door a couple of times, you frown, wondering if he’s not home. On the way back to your car, with your head hung in defeat, your ears perk up at the sound of something clanging in the shop. Of course! 

You skitter back to the front porch to leave your goods by the door and head for the shop to find that divorced DILF–Joel, you mean. It’s sweltering out, and sweat is beading on your chest after only a few minutes in the heat. The closer you get, the more easily you can make out the sound of his little CD player blasting another brooding, raspy ballad sung by a white man with a troubled love life. 

The garage door is shut, so you knock on the door on the side of the building. You wait a minute before testing your luck and opening the door yourself. Assessing the shop, you don’t see your man, sorry, Joel, at first glance. The music blasts, and the calendar model gives you the same impish smirk through her false lashes and a layer of dust, but there’s no Joel. The evidence clearly dictates that he’s in here somewhere, as his tools are strung around his project, the lights are on, and a beer with a sweating label sits on the edge of the workbench. 

You aren’t trying to be sneaky. You didn’t think to holler and announce your presence over the music. Plus, you didn’t fully get your bearings the last time you were here. Now, you can pick up a few more details as your eyes absorb everything they can about anything that gives you a hint about who this guy is. 

The guy that’s been haunting your dreams for a week. Last week, when you walked back to the shop with Ellie to check on your car, you nearly tripped, watching Joel wipe the sweat off his face with the bottom of his shirt. You had just caught a glimpse of the trail of hair disappearing under his jeans, but it was enough to replay in your mind every night as you created your little scenarios to carry you off to sleep. 

The scent memory was somehow worse. It was so easy to transport yourself back in time with the thought of the sweaty musk and the grease or oil smeared on his fingers. It shouldn’t turn you on, right? 

You remember thinking he seemed so knowledgeable when describing the issue. You had no idea what he was talking about, but his low voice and patience were enough to tell you he could talk you through anything. 

You notice a few other details as you enter his sacred space today. The woodworking projects, the band posters, and the pictures with Ellie and other family members tacked to the wall over another workbench. 

Still, no Joel, however. 

You circle the partially disassembled project truck and see a door to another room. It would be the office if the shop were a professional business. There’s a window along the wall, but instead of a boss watching an employee, it’s you hoping to see that brawny man and his dark curls. 

As you step closer, you nearly squeal. There he is. Well, at least, you can see the broad shoulders and back you’ve been picturing above you in bed. You practically skip to the door. It’s already open a crack, and you give it a knock, calling his name as it swings open from the force of your rapping knuckles.   

The next moment is a blur. 

“Shit, fuck, hold on!” Joel shouts gruffly as he slams the door in your face. But you already heard it. The phony wailing noises that came from the busted speaker on his phone. 

You still face the closed door, trying to process the interaction before he wrenches the door back open. He’s breathing rapidly, chest rising and falling, as he looks at you with wide eyes that quickly narrow. 

“What are you doing here?” he barks. 

Your hands fall to your sides, and you start to step back, ready to turn and run. 

He catches your fear and tries to adjust, but you’re faster. 

“Sorry,” you mumble as you turn and try to dash away. Joel’s quick, too, though, and he grabs your wrist. 

“Hey, wait,” he loosens his grip when you spin back towards him, “I just didn’t hear you comin’. Wasn’t expecting you.” 

“Sorry,” you repeat, stuttering as you continue, “I-I just, uh, just wanted to say thanks for your help last week.” You stare at the floor. Unsure why you’re embarrassed, you feel so small after he saw your face and practically shouted at you. 

“All right,” he rumbles. You’re too busy staring at the crack in the concrete floor to notice how his eyes are glued to your exposed skin. Or to see the blotchy red flush that crawls up his neck and toward his face. 

But your brain starts to catch up. Joel might’ve snapped at you, but you’re the one that caught him in the act. You don’t lift your head, but your eyes trail over his stained and faded jeans until you’re studying his crotch. 

Bingo. It’s almost too easy. You can make out the outline of his erection tucked up in his waistband. Even more glaring evidence is the open fly. You wish you had caught what he was watching. How does he like it? What does he search for when he wants to jerk off in the back office on a hot Saturday afternoon? 

He clears his throat, and you snap your attention to his face. “Was there somethin’ you needed?” He asks. 

“Yes.” You tell him you’ve got a lasagna that should get into a fridge before it reheats in the sun. He follows you toward the front door and into the house, not missing how your hips sway as you lead. 

Once the tray is shoved into the fridge, nestled between some takeout containers, he turns to thank you. “You didn’t need to do all that,” he gruffs over the cookies and homemade meal. 

You step back to lean against the counter, littered with mail and more coffee cups, and let yourself check him out up close. His faded Creed t-shirt has holes around the neck. He’s got that same sweaty man musk going on, and you wish you knew why that stirred your arousal, but your pussy lacks logic. 

“I know, I know,” you reply, “but you really saved my ass with the car, and I wanted to do something for you. You know, some way to pay you back?” 

“All right, well, thanks,” he trails off. He doesn’t seem to know what else to say. Maybe you should be on your way already, but he’s not ushering you out the door. 

This time, you do catch when his eyes drop to your chest. There’s no way you’re imagining the tension between you as you stand in his kitchen while he stares at your barely clothed tits, right? Fuck it. You’re gonna go for it. 

You take a step towards him. “I wasn’t sure if it was really enough,” your voice is soft and tempting, and your sweet perfume wafts towards him like a lust potion. Joel swallows thickly as you approach.

He knows you must’ve put it together, but he tried to delude himself. Maybe you couldn’t hear the theatrical screams of the woman he was watching get railed before he slammed the door in your face. He hopes all you heard was Chad Kroeger’s voice screaming, “This time I'm mistaken

For handin' you a heart worth breakin'” from the stereo.. on the other side of the shop. 

“You worked so hard,” you continued with one final step, and now you’re nearly toe-to-toe in front of him. “There has to be something else I could do.” You’re so close to him. He forgets to respond. It takes all his power to keep his eyes on your face. 

You have a wild urge to taste the sweat on his neck, but you keep your tongue to yourself. He hasn’t made any move to encourage you, but he hasn’t stopped you yet either, so you figure it’s worth taking a risk. 

“Maybe you’ve got a problem I could help you with.” You go for it, reaching your hand out to palm at the bulge in his jeans. 

Again, too many things happen at once. Joel snaps out a “What?” in disbelief. His hand circles your wrist tightly. His hips jerk, involuntarily bucking into your palm. Your glossy lips part into an “o” shape at the size of his not-quite-hard cock. And now you’re both locked into this position like statues. 

His fingers stay firmly wrapped around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull you away. Your fingers squeeze over his jeans, and your eyes flash wide as you can feel his cock twitch and stiffen at your touch. The touch that rapidly overrides your better judgment, drowning you in want. Your clit twitches itself in response, your nipples strain under your thin tank top, and your eyelids feel heavy immediately. 

“What are you doing?” His voice crackles like he hadn’t just used it. You slide your hand to pop the button on his jeans, and he releases your wrist as you flip it to slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers in search of his cock. 

“Let me help,” you say in more of a whispered tone. The searing heat between Joel’s legs makes you salivate. Your fingers graze coarse curls before you acquire your target, wrapping your palm and fingers around his thick shaft. His size has your cunt throbbing in your shorts. 

Joel’s eyes are squeezed shut. He looks nearly in pain. You pull your hand back out to let the pool of saliva on your tongue drip into your palm. 

“Jesus,” he breathes out, watching your lewd maneuver. “You wanna help?” He repeats your plea in the form of a question, a little dumbfounded. He’s trying to figure out what’s happening right now. 

“I do,” you answer in a honeyed voice as you dig your hand back into his pants. He’s unable to respond with words as you swirl your palm over the head of his cock, mixing saliva and precome, but his body eggs you on. He bucks into your fist, and you work quickly, pumping his throbbing length. The slick noises are muffled by the layers of clothing, but the grunts that catch in his throat shoot piping-hot desire straight into your core. 

He looks a little desperate, eyes slammed shut again, jaw slack, arms hanging uselessly at his side. And for god knows why, the entire scene pulls a moan from your lips. The sweet sound snaps Joel back to attention. His hands shoot straight to your breasts, cupping them gently to feel them bounce against the motion of your arm wrestling with his jeans to keep stroking his cock. 

They’re so close to spilling over your tank top on their own. Joel can’t resist tugging the thin material until they spill over the top. The sight alone nearly has him coming in his pants. But then you moan so loudly when he squeezes them both and pinches at your nipples, and he really can’t stop. 

“Fuck, fuck, wait,” he spits out, but it’s too late. His hips jerk erratically, thrusting into your slick fist, and he’s coming. It coats your hand and wrist and makes an absolute mess.  You relax your grip when his whole body seems to shudder and gently remove your hand. He tries to choke his groan of frustration before it surfaces, but he immediately pauses his shame spiral when he sees you suck your come-coated fingers one by one. 

“God, that’s so fucking hot,” you tell him. At the same time, he’s muttering curses at the sight of you. You’re feeling a little giddy that all it took was your hand and showing your tits to have Joel losing control and spilling his load for you. It has your mouth curling into an impish grin. 

He’s got the sight of you half topless in his kitchen, licking your fingers, looking awfully proud of yourself, etching into his memory. Before the blood can return to his brain, he grabs you tightly by the ribs and walks you backward towards the counter. He lifts you onto it and wrenches open your shorts, yanking at them as you lift your hips so he can slide them off of you and drop them onto the kitchen floor. 

Yes! Yes! Yes! The horny little goblins in your brain shriek and chant, incited by the rough and impulsive way Joel gropes at you. It’s barbaric, and that delights you. 

Sitting on the counter, you give him such perfect access to put his mouth on your breasts that he forgets what he was going to say. He mouths at each of them wetly, his beard tickling you as he’s busy sucking marks into your delicate skin. He sucks and bites at your strained nipples until your loud whines turn into a sharp gasp, and he pulls back. 

The heavy-lidded look on your face has him diving back in for more, and you groan and arch into his touch. You rake your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck and tug at him. He grunts and moans into your skin, and it drives you wild. You need to feel him closer. 

You grab the worn cotton on his shoulders until he lets you slip the shirt over his head and drop it onto the counter next to you. It gives you the briefest moment to take in the sight of his built chest and shoulders and softer midsection with that trail of hair you had memorized. You need to taste the salt on his skin. 

Spreading your legs wider, he slots his hips against yours at the edge of the counter, and you run your tongue along his neck. You slide one of your hands down the smooth golden skin of his shoulder, and the other nestles back in his messy curls as his mouth finds yours. 

He tastes like cheap coffee and the peppermint nicotine gum parked above his teeth along the left side of his mouth. You know it’s wrong that you can’t get enough. But you're helpless when he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, and you mindlessly roll your hips, seeking any relief. 

He’s grumbling in your ear about how it seems like you need help now, but you couldn’t care less about the words coming out of his mouth. His deep voice alone could get you off. You let out an uninhibited whine at the thought. 

“Jesus Christ,” he pulls back. His head hangs, staring at the floor. He shakes it in what you assume is disbelief. You don’t want to wait for him to think any further. You grab his hand, pulling it between your legs.

“Really, fucking, hot.” You echo your earlier declaration. Doing your best to sound assertive. You figure at least your soaked panties will prove your point. 

“Fuck,” he stifles a groan. You’re so wet it coats his fingertips through the thin material. He nudges his fingers into you, over your panties, and you whimper for him. The fabric sticks to you and makes an obscene sound as he toys with you for only seconds. “Oh, you do need my help. Hm?” 

You nod, spreading your legs wider for Joel to have access. He scoffs at you, displayed eagerly atop his kitchen counter. “Just desperate for me, aren’t ya?”

You snap your legs back shut with a glare. 

“No way,” you press, jabbing a finger into his chest, “you don’t get to laugh at me like I’m a slut for you when you just came in your pants for me.” 

His nostrils flare, and blotchy red patches creep up his neck again. You aren’t sure what kind of bear you’ve just, quite literally, poked. 

“But you are, aren’t you?” He challenges. “You came all this way in this excuse for a shirt, just for me.” 

He wedges his hand back between your closed thighs, and you relax just enough to let him work his way back to your core. Your breathing gives you away when it hitches and stutters as he traces his fingers along the hem of the fabric between your legs. You let your legs fall a little wider apart, and he sinks a finger beneath the hem and right inside of you to the knuckle. 

A whiny noise rolls in the back of your throat. 

“Shh,” he sinks a second finger inside of you, and your muscles spasm and contract, “that’s better, hmm?” He slowly pulls his fingers almost all the way out and then plunges them back in. He repeats this, and your core tenses as you writhe for him. 

“You need more?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yeah, you do.” He adds a third finger, and the slight stretch makes you hum. 

“You just need to be filled up, hm?” He teases you. Awfully confident now for a guy you just caught watching porn on his phone in a grimy back office in the middle of the afternoon. 

But your noises and impatient movements spur him on. His sticky cock is filling out his jeans again. He nearly drools at the thought of the wet walls of your cunt, currently wrapped around his fingers, sliding over his cock instead. He knows you want it, too.

“Don’t you?” He asks like you could read his mind.

“Hm?” You hum absently. Empty headed. You’re still taken by the entire pulpy, messy scene. 

Reveling in the vulnerability of being spread open on his cluttered counter as you’re both half-dressed and panting in the other’s hot breath. Any semblance of the lightness of your mood is quickly replaced with a blinding need. His fingers work into you, making obscene sounds, and then you add your own fingers. Circling your swollen clit just as he lets you in on his vision. 

“You wanna bounce on my lap. Fill this pussy with my cock.” 

“Yes,” you hiss as you hover at the edge. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he watches your fingers working deftly over your swollen clit. The encouragement tips you over. Your body jolts erratically as you contract around his fingers, and bright sparks of pleasure course through you. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna ride me like fuckin’ champ,” he decides. You pull at his wrist when you start to feel overwhelmed, and he slides his wet fingers over your soft inner thigh. He’s ready to grab you and carry you to the couch when both of your heads snap to attention at the sound of a door slamming in the driveway. 

“Shit,” he grumbles, looking for the clock on the stove before he remembers it’s definitely not set to the right time. You move nimbly, shimmying into your shorts, snapping your straps back over your shoulder, and brushing your hair out of your face. 

“Hey, wait,” he calls for you, but you’re on the move. 

“Let me know when I can pick up the baking dish,” you call over your shoulder. Luckily, Joel’s next guest seemed to know him better. They were off to search the shop first, so you didn’t collide with anyone before you got to your car. Joel stayed locked in the kitchen, catching his breath while you started to pull away. He didn’t see that you stole his dirty Creed shirt off the counter before you skipped out the door. 

When you grab it later to wear to bed, a naughty little smile tugs at the corners of your lips. When you pull the worn fabric to your nose to inhale deeply, you wonder if it’s one of those weird pheromone matches or something because you’re sure the sweaty man musk should be wrinkling your nose. 

Instead, it makes you think of his big arms and chest filling out the shirt. And how his shoulder and back muscles ripple under his sun-bronzed skin. What they’d look like coated in a sheen of salty sweat as he railed you, bent over his workbench, under the watchful eye of the calendar model and her flirty smize. 

The image has you interrupting your own scenarios-before-bed time. Maybe Joel needs a model from this decade. You giggle, bunching up the t-shirt to snap a tasteful shot of some underboob cleavage, with the faded Creed logo on full display. 

You send it off with no context, figuring it’s self-explanatory. It’s less than a minute before your phone buzzes, and you feel the intoxicating rush rip through your body before you pick it up to see just the heading on your lockscreen: 

Joel

Attachment 1 image

divider by @cyberangel-graphics

Please let me know if you enjoyed or hated this or a secret third thing (???) heheh

[ladyhavilliard]

is there a theory about paimon possibly being the archon of the unknown 8th element (you know, if that theory is true) but maybe possibly having forgotten/lost her powers in a way? Cause from what I know it starts sounding plausible but idk enough about lore to know if something goes strongly against it

[lovelettersfromluna]

Not Strong Enough

Summary: Rule number 1 of being best friends with a vampire. Never let them drink your blood.

an: I HEAR YOU ALL YELLING AT ME IM SORRY!! This took entirely too long to get to you guys, but it’s here now! Better late than never right?? Is this heavily inspired by twilight? Yes. Did I use a BoyGenius song as the title? It’s lesbian smut, obviously. Is Ellie going to be a brooding depressed vampire? Oh hell yeah. I hope you all like this! I’m a slut for anything supernatural so this was obvi very fun for me to write. As always, love you all so so much! Thanks for reading 🤍

Warnings: SMUT!!, MDNI!!, scissoring (if ur mad I’m doing another scissoring fic….idk what to tell you it’s hot), messy kissing, Ellie bites reader (outside of blood sucking), mentions of marking, mentions of bruises, mentions of blood, Ellie is kind of insufferable for a small bit but I promise it gets better, please lmk if I missed anything!

Read part 1 here!!

Ellie knew it was a bad idea from the very beginning.

She knew that she was too weak for you, even outside of sucking your blood. You were too fucking good for her, too much of a dream for Ellie to go and fuck up like she did.

Truth be told, Ellie expected all of it. She expected to get utterly addicted to you, she expected the blurred lines of your relationship to become even more blurred when she began sucking you dry of your life source, she even expected herself to lose control when she was in the act, humping and grinding your soft body like a wild fucking animal as if she had no control over herself.

She expected all of it, every single aspect that came with the territory, she knew was coming.

But the hardest part of it all? Was leaving you completely.

Because she knew the moment she felt herself lose control while she was on top of you that night in your apartment, she knew she needed to leave you. She needed to abandon you and your friendship for the greater good, for your sake.

Ellie knew that she wasn’t good for you, and you weren’t good for her. But that didn’t make the pain of not seeing you any less.

She thought she’d be able to do it at first, but the texts from you only reminded her of how much she loved your company, how obsessed she was with simply being around you.

She wound frown every time her phone went off, a low groan leaving her lips when she lifted it up to look at her screen, only to see it was from you.

Ellieeeeee

Where are you?

Haven’t seen u in the longest :((

Ellie can practically hear your pout in the way you text her. She knows you too well, and she knows that you aren’t handling her sudden disappearance well.

At this point, it’s been about two months since Ellie has seen you last? Maybe three? She stopped keeping count because it was driving her insane. It wasn’t even the blood supply that she missed, Ellie would go hungry ten times over, dying from starvation if it meant she could be around you without feeling she was robbing you of your life, ruining things that you were meant to experience because she was too fucking selfish.

Ellie misses you, and it pains her that she hasn’t been able to have you in so long.

Well…not entirely at least. She knew she’d lose her mind entirely if she couldn’t at least be around you for a few moments, so her usual nighttime visits become a bit more frequent when she decides she can’t be around you anymore. She’s a lot more careful when she does it though, knowing how sensitive you were to her presence. It was almost unbelievable how easily you’d woken up to her in your room in the past. She doesn’t know how she’d explain things if you woke up now, not having seen her in so long. So she’s extra aware of how much noise she makes.

Seeing you sleep is almost enough to keep Ellie’s demons at bay, the ones that screamed for you, yearned for you to be by her side, to have your warm skin pressed against her much colder one.

As per usual, she’s scaling up the brick wall of your apartment building, making her way up to your bedroom like thief in the night. You continue to leave your window open every night, and it breaks Ellie’s heart because she knows you’re doing it for her, most likely hoping she slips into your window as she usually does.

It means Ellie needs to be even more careful than she anticipated.

She doesn’t even dare to sit on your bed, standing in the corner of your room as she watches your chest rise and fall. She doesn’t even breathe, scared that the sound of it will wake you.

And she desperately wants to reach out and let her fingers run along your soft skin, desperate for the feeling that you always brought her when you’re near. It makes her fists balk at her sides as she practically itches to feel you, fighting back any and every thought that she had to touch you, if even for a moment.

But she doesn’t. Instead, he stays with you just before the sun rises. She knows it’s risky, and she knows she shouldn’t do it in the event that you wake up and see her. Even if she’s fast enough to dart out of your room before you can even call her name or turn the lights on, you’re too smart for that. You’d know what was happening before she can even begin to gaslight you into thinking it was simply a dream.

She can’t help herself, not when it comes to you. Seeing you sleep satisfies the burning feeling in her chest, the one that yearns so desperately for you, it’s enough to make her knees weak. It’s almost like you’re capable of evoking the same feelings she had when she was a human, when she was weak and stupid and felt nervous around women. Until you showed up, Ellie hadn’t experienced those feelings in a long time, she’d almost forgotten about them.

You always remind her though.

Like when she’s about to leave you, knowing she’s cutting it too close to the time you’re going to wake up and start your day. Her footsteps are practically silence, even against the old, creaky floorboards of your apartment.

She’s almost out of your window, one leg outside as she plants her foot against the fire escape when she hears it. You began mumbling in your sleep, tossing a bit, clearly bothered by whatever dream you were having. While this should’ve been the clearest sign for Ellie to leave as quickly as possible before your eyes opened a bit to see her, she doesn’t. Instead, she stays sat on your window sill, simply watching as you turn to face her, eyes still closed as you pout in your sleep.

If Ellie had a heart that was still beating, she’s sure it would’ve stopped. Because suddenly your mumbling is just clear enough for her to hear.

“Ellie….” You sigh out softly, barely loud enough for the undead girl to hear, but she does. Regardless of the city waking up below her, or the sound of your ceiling fan creaking about, she hears it. It makes her frown deeply, swallowing back the intense whimper that threatens to escape and echo throughout your room.

She isn’t sure if she’s ever left your room so quickly, the girls eyes going wide as she made the familiar path down the side of your building to your side walk.

Even when she got home that night, the vampire practically breaking the front door down of her apartment to get in, she couldn’t get the sound of your voice uttering her name so sweetly, calling out for her even in the depths of sleep that you were in, tugged so deeply by your dreams, you were still calling out for her.

Ellie knew that night, that she had to stay away from her. For both your sake, and her own.

And she’s right, because you were suffering just as much as Ellie was.

Ellie’s presence was always scarce, and while it bothered you a bit before you learned what she was, it made sense. She was a creature of the night, something that seemingly only existed in storybooks, coming to life and living the strange lifestyle that she did.

But you knew immediately that this was different.

The morning after you saw Ellie last left a bitter taste in your mouth. As you woke up that morning, your neck sore with the bruises of Ellie’s lips on your skin, body far too drained and tired even after a night of a sleep that was just a bit too deep. It was similar to almost all the times Ellie had drank from you the night prior.

So, why did you feel so bad that morning?

You knew that you didn’t owe Ellie anything, that you were the one to suggest this in the first place, so there truly wasn’t any room for you to be upset for reasons unknown. What were you even supposed to say to her? That you had a weird feeling? One that you desperately wanted her to relieve by telling you it was all okay?

As much as you wanted to, you knew things between you and Ellie weren’t like that.

You were her friend. You were just her friend, and as much as you wanted more, you knew deep down that if Ellie truly wanted you that way, she would’ve made you she’s a long time ago.

And maybe that’s what bothers you the most when this little dry spell occurs, because the sudden lack of her presence leaves you entirely too much time to dwell on things, wondering what it was that you did wrong, what you could have possibly said to create this sudden rift between the two of you.

Ellie had always been flirtatious, flashing that pretty smile in your direction that made you weak in the knees, calling you sweet names that made your heart beat faster. She was practically dangling it all right in front of your face, the frequent touches, the late night visits at the foot of your bed, all this time when you have her the benefit of the doubt, chalking it all up to her simply wanting to see you and nothing more than that, suddenly made no sense to you.

With time came confusion, and with confusion came anger, desperate to understand why she left you, what you had done to possibly make her so scarce so suddenly. And once the third month had hit without seeing Ellie, you were furious, feeling as though you had one choice and one choice only.

To find Ellie, and get the answers from her yourself.

You don’t go to Ellie’s apartment, not usually at least.

Ellie always told you she liked hanging out at your place, going on and on about how warm and cozy it was being there. She’d never admit it to you because she didn’t want you to think she was a freak, but being in a place that smelled so heavily like you made her brain go absolutely insane.

You’ve been there maybe a handful of times, sometimes heading to her place after a night out, or even stopping by whenever you were in the neighborhood. Bottom line was, your apartment was the designated hang out spot for you and Ellie.

Regardless though, you remember how to get there like it’s written on the back of your hand. You thought about Ellie’s apartment a lot, loving how much the space reflected her. You always wished you had the chance to stay there more often.

You can’t think about that though, not now. Not when you’re storming down the expensive halls of her complex down to her door, and landing a heavy fist on the door. All you can truly care about now, is seeing Ellie and demanding an explanation for her sudden disappearance.

And it’s all so unlike you, so out of your character. If it was anyone else, you’d let it go, giving yourself a few days to sulk before forgetting about it all together and simply moving on. Maybe it’s because it’s Ellie, and maybe it’s because you feel a tad bit used after being her personal buffet for the last few times you’d been around her, just for her to up and leave.

It’s most definitely that. You just don’t want to admit it in fears of sounding selfish.

You land another firm knock on her door when she doesn’t answer in time, feeling yourself grow angrier as the moments pass.

Soon, she’s finally opening the door. The image of her nearly takes your breath away.

Because Ellie always looks beautiful, perhaps it’s the fact that you haven’t seen her in some time, but she looks fucking ethereal standing before you. So tall, so confident, her eyes so fucking dark, piercing through your very soul as she stares down at you. Her lips look like rubies compared to her cold, pale skin, so plump and kissable.

All you can think about is the way they felt pressed against your throat, and it makes you lift your hand to press against the two small circular scars on your neck.

Ellie frowns deeply as she eyes you, eyebrows furrowed and expression virtually unreadable.

“What are you doing here” she mumbles out, shifting on her feet awkwardly. Her question alone sets the fire off in your chest again, making you seethe as you take a deep inhale before responding.

“Are you kidding me Ellie?” You practically spit out, staring up at the girl in disbelief.

She lets out a soft sigh, her tattooed hand coming up to rub her face roughly before it moves up to rub through her hair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” she manages before she tries shutting her door in your face. “You can’t be here” she mumbles out softly, the girl fully expecting to be able to shut the door.

You however, have other plans.

You’re quick to press your hand against the door, stopping her from closing it before you practically force yourself between it. Ellie’s eyes widen a bit at this, not used to seeing you so forward.

Soon, you’re pushing yourself into her apartment, your palm pressing against your forehead as you began pacing back and forth Ellie’s lavish apartment.

“I don’t…I don’t understand you Ellie. Is it something I said? Did I do something? If so please enlighten me I beg you” you blurt out, all of the words fumbling out of your mouth in one breath.

Ellie frowns deeply as she watches you pace back and forth her apartment, her eyebrows furrowed. She can truly see the damaged shes caused when she sees you like this, because it was much easier to watch you when you slept, so peaceful and unaware of the troubles that came with her absence. She knew you were going to blame yourself, and as much as she knew she couldn’t allow you to do that to yourself, she knew staying away was even more important.

Seeing you like this was possibly the hardest thing Ellie had to ever endure.

You don’t stop there, taking advantage of the lack of a response from Ellie to continue ranting.

“Is it because of the blood thing? If so I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry for simply caring enough to make sure you didn’t die from starvation or whatever it is that happens to you when you don’t eat. I’m sorry for making sure that you were okay, if that was so wrong please tell me…” your words trail off as you let out an exasperated sigh, your feelings and emotions becoming far too much as you practically sob out to her.

But then you’re pausing, your chest rising and falling quickly as you struggle to catch your breath. Ellie isn’t entirely sure why you’ve suddenly stopped, your back towards her as you stand there, doing god knows what.

When you finally turn around, your eyes are red and your cheeks are wet with tears.

“Were you just….using me? As your personal fucking blood bag?” Your words are shaky as you hold back another sob, your fists balled down at your sides.

Ellie freezes when you say this, because this is exactly what she was fucking afraid of.

It was a common theme throughout…her people. Vampires were notoriously alluring, seducing countless innocent and clueless victims into being their personal meal. The humans were almost always oblivious to what was being done to them, vampires often times using this to their advantage to keep them under their spell for as long as possible. It would most commonly been done in a way that made the humans believe the vampires loved them, dangling them by a thread as they promised them a life of eternity together, to live in immortality, side by side until the end of times. It almost never ended that way though, the vampires would suck and suck and suck until one day they went a bit too far, and their obedient human keeled over and died.

Ellie never wanted things to be that way with you.

She never even wanted you to think it was that way. She wanted you to understand that this was entirely up to you, and it could stop whenever you wanted it to. It’s why she constantly voiced to you that this was still a factor right before she fed off of you. Ellie would rather die than use you for a source of food, because truthfully you were far too good for that, too fucking pure to be used as something as low as a food source.

So when the words leave your lips, Ellie sees red.

Shes in front of you in less than a second, towering over you and staring down into your tear soaked eyes. Her nostrils are flared as she tries to hold back from tearing down her entire apartment complex around the both of you.

“You can’t possibly be stupid enough to think I’d ever use you for something so low..” her voice is low, and there’s a gravel in it that makes your core tighten and your chest bloom with something you can’t quite place, a feeling that can only be shelved in your mind right next to where Ellie takes place.

You don’t hack one, hot tears continuing to spill from your eyes as you stare at her with furrowed eyebrows.

“It makes sense….get your fix and then leave me like I’m nothing…this was probably your plan all along” you grit out.

Ellie licks her lips, knowing that you’re hurting just as much as she is, and your words are simply coming from a place of confusion, desperate to understand why she did what she did to you, why she left without a trace.

She leans in, her face a mere inches from yours. You can smell her minty breath wafting onto your face, and it’s bizarre because even that has a slight chill to it. It makes your cheeks cold, and it makes you want to reach out and warm her up.

“I would rather die a million deaths before using you for that…you and I both know this” she seethes out.

And it makes you whimper, because Ellie’s always been so fucking intense, so poetic. It makes your insides flip upside down, and your eyebrows knit together as you struggle to hold back a whimper.

Your features soften as you continue to cry in front of her. “Then why did you leave me…” you whisper out to the girl.

It breaks her heart how desperate you are for this. Not even for her, but simply for answers. All you want is to understand why she left, what you did to make her abruptly disappear without a single word.

Ellie’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, her pink tongue darting out to lick her plush lips before she finally speaks.

“I’ve never…been so weak for someone…in my entire life” she breaths out.

It surely isn’t what you’re expecting her to say. You think she’s going to say she’s gotten enough of you, or she just couldn’t handle having someone like you around. Hell, you were even beginning to think she was trying to cover up all her roots here and start somewhere else.

“I always have been…from the moment I fucking laid eyes on you, I knew you weren’t good for me…you’re too good for me” she continues, her eyes fluttering open as she finally stares down into yours. You can finally look into yours as you blink away the tears that are pooling in your eyes and blurring your vision, and it allows you to see the pain in her eyes, just how much she’d been struggling with all of this.

“It isn’t even your blood…it made it worse, yes…but just being around you is like…it’s like a fucking drug to me. You give me this feeling that I can’t…I can’t even begin to describe how fucking euphoric you make me feel” each of her words sounds like a plea, a plea for you to let her go, to unhand her from the death grip you have on her.

“And suddenly I’m always in your apartment, and you’re offering yourself to me and it’s like a dream come true and I feel like a fucking monster when I’m on top of you, sucking you dry of your fucking blood” it’s her turn to start pacing, running her hands through her hair as she settles one of her hands on her hip, she moves slower than you were, simply voicing the struggles she’s seemed to have with you from the moment you met.

She finally turns towards you, and she’s slowing make her way to where you’ve been standing this entire time. When she’s right back where she was, stood right in front of you, she takes your hand into hers ever so gently. It’s enough to make you flinch, how cold she is in contrast to your hot skin. She sighs, bringing your hand up to cradle her cheek, and her eyes flutter shut, nearly rolling back as she presses a soft kiss to your palm.

“I’m not strong enough for you…I don’t think I ever will be” she finally admits, and it’s like she’s not only admitting it to you, but to herself as well.

You hold back a whine as she kisses your palm, her lips so soft, so gentle with you.

“Then…then don’t be…why can’t you just let things happen” you sigh out as you stare up at her, in awe as the girl leaned into your touch as if it were her life line.

You aren’t even entirely sure what you’re asking her for, what this so called ‘thing’ is that she won’t let happen. Is it the feeding you’re alluding to? An act of true platonic kindness? Or are you asking for more, are you begging for something that Ellie has deprived you both of for the sake of the greater good?

Both you and Ellie have these same questions running through your minds.

She chuckles dryly against your skin, shaking her head as her hand gives your wrists a gentle squeeze.

“You aren’t even sure what it is you’re asking for…not from someone like me” she admits, eyes opening as she finally looks down at you again.

“I can’t…give you the things you deserve. I’m not capable of being the perfect person for you, not when I am what I am” her words are like venom on her tongue, the girl utterly disgusted with the monster that she became against her own will, the hell that she was forced to live over and over again with no foreseeable end.

“The only thing I can do, is take from you…I take and take and take….” Her words trail off, a soft frown on her lips before she finally looks at you once again.

“Until I’ve taken everything that you have…and there is no more of you to offer” she whispers out, as if the mere thought of a world without you pains her so much to say, she barely wants to say it.

You lick your lips, your eyes searching hers before you quickly shake your head.

“Do you want me? The same way that I want you?” You question carefully, fearful of what it is that she might say, worried that you’d been reading things entirely wrong, even after Ellie basically confessed how utterly obsessed she is with you.

She smirks softly, humming lowly as she gently brings your hand down to her lips, pressing another gentle kiss to it.

“It’s like I’ve waited my entire life for you, baby….saying that I want you would be an understatement” she chuckles out softly.

And you aren’t entirely sure how it even gets to this point, because you marched over to Ellie’s apartment with a purpose, that purpose being to yell at her and get the answers you deserved. But suddenly you’re standing in front of her, and your heart is exploding with so many different emotions and feelings, all of them for Ellie, and she’s just confessed to you that she wants you like you want her.

And you have no choice, but to kiss her.

It catches Ellie off guard, a soft whine leaving her lips as accepts your lips with gratitude, her arms moving down to drape along your waist as she pulls you closer.

It’s everything she’s ever dreamt it would be. Your lips soft and sweet against her own, your skin so warm and inviting, making her drink you up, fueling her with the warmth she’s lacked since the day she died. But despite how good it feels, she knows this is wrong, and it goes against everything she said she’d do for your sake.

Ellie breaks way first, watching as you struggle to catch your breath from the intense kiss. She’s quick to stop you from leaning in again, her hand cupping your face as she stares into your eyes.

“Angel…we can’t…I told you, I’m no good for you” she sighs out, the words paining her to even say.

You give her a soft pout, your arms wrapping around her shoulders loosely as you press your warm body against hers.

“I trust you Ellie….I know that you’d never hurt me” you sigh out softly as you stare into her eyes, your hand coming up to tuck a strand of her soft hair behind her ear.

“We don’t have to do the blood thing…but I just…can’t we just give us a try?” Your eyes are wide as you speak, eager to feel Ellie’s lips against yours again, even if for a moment. You don’t even take into consideration that she could say no, that she could turn you around and throw you out of her apartment without another word, doubling down on what she said she’d do with you.

But as Ellie said before, she’s just too fucking weak for you.

And hearing you ask for it, ask for her, it has her stomach in knots, and she feels like no matter what it is you ask her, she couldn’t possibly say no to you.

“What are you doing to me…” she sighs softly before she leans in to kiss you again, reciprocating the passion and heat that you gave her mere moments ago. You whine against her, your hands sliding back to tug at her hair, keeping her close as your lips moves against hers, your warm tongue sliding against hers.

“Missed you so much…” you sigh against her, and it makes Ellie groan softly as she nods, hands sliding down to grip your waist as she walks you back towards her bedroom, lips never leaving yours.

“Missed you more than anything, angel” she mumbles against your lips as she presses her palm against her bedroom door behind you, pushing it open and leading you further inside.

Ellie’s bedroom smells like her. It’s dark, and cold but oh so comforting. You practically sigh against her lips when you feel her laying your body down against her black silk sheets, the expensive material like butter on your skin. It makes your senses go in overdrive, Ellie’s hands caressing your skin, roaming around your body as her tongue rubs against yours in a dirty, passionate kiss.

“Don’t know how long I’ve waited to have you like this…” she sighs softly, her lips breaking away from yours to kiss along your jaw, down to your throat. You don’t miss the way Ellie kisses the now faded marks of her teeth on your neck, licking the skin softly before she sucks into it, sure to leave dark marks in the morning.

“Missed marking you up baby….” She hums against you, drinking in the sweet moans that leave your mouth, the sound alone like music to her ears.

Your mind is fuzzy, almost blank besides the thoughts of Ellie that stood in the forefront of your brain. It was like she was filling you up entirely, making you almost overwhelmed with her. Her scent, her cold skin, her soft hands, all of it was almost too much, a combination of sensory overload that kissed your skin so deliciously.

Soon she’s kissing down your body, practically worshiping her as her lips work on your soft skin. Her hands are pushing up your t-shirt, kissing your stomach and your ribcage until she’s tugging you up a bit to skillfully slip your shirt over your head. You’re bare before her, her lips matching onto your pebbled nipples as her tattooed hands work on your soft shorts, tugging them down your legs.

You don’t miss the way her tongue swirls around your nipple before letting go with a pop, lips moving up to nip at your collar bone with her flat teeth. Hard enough to leave a mark, but gentle enough to not break skin.

You giggle softly, bending your legs back to help as she tugs your shorts and panties off. She’s slotting herself between your legs, humming softly as she gives you a smirk.

“Something funny baby?” She questions before leaning in to press another kiss to the corner of your lips. You nod, a dreamy smile on your lips as you bring your hand down to tug at the hem of Ellie’s t-shirt.

“Seems like old habits never die, that’s all….need this off” you huff out softly, fingers fumbling between the hem of her t shirt and the waistband of her sweats.

Ellie chuckles at how eager you are before she nods, pulling back to tug her shirt off before she rolls over a bit to pull off her sweats and underwear as well before she makes her way back between your legs, towering over you as she crawls into you like a predator would its prey.

And it leaves your pussy soaking wet, because it’s better than you could’ve ever imagined. Ellie’s tits are pebbled similarly to yours, tattoos littering her pretty skin, muscles so beautiful they could make your mouth fucking water.

You’d always seen Ellie for the beauty she possessed…but this? This was so much more different.

It made your head fucking spin.

You whined softly as you practically tug her into her by her shoulders, moaning softly at the feeling of her boobs squishing against yours as your mouth attacks her in a needy kiss.

“Want you…” you sigh softly against her as your hand slides down between the both of you, cupping her pussy. You feel Ellie suck in a sharp breath at the feeling of your warm fingers against her sopping wet core, and she gives you an eager nod before rolling over, her strong hands gripping your thighs and taking you with her as she forces you to straddle her.

Being on top of Ellie is just as good as being under her, almost better in all honesty. The lighting in her bedroom is dim, but you can just make out her features with the moonlight that spills in through her big windows, and the moody lights she has set up along her walls. You don’t even realize it because you’re too busy gawking at her, but she lifts her leg up a bit and easily slots you down so that your pussy is right against hers, the feeling making you moan softly.

“You’re so pretty Ellie…” you practically sigh out. It makes Ellie moan softly, and she swears the sound of you calling her pretty is enough to bring her back to life, reversing the effects of her undead state.

“Fuck…can’t say those things to me baby…you’re gonna…Jesus..ruin me” she struggles to get out as she grips your hips, forcing you to roll your hips so that your clit and her clit bumps against each other.

Your eyes flutter shut when you feel it. It’s so fucking wet, and soft, and it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Sure you’d done it with other girls before, but this just feels…it almost feels like….

“Like you were fucking made for me princess” Ellie grits out, her teeth caging her words in as she fucks you down onto her pussy, practically using you for both hers and your pleasure.

You’re too far gone to pick up on it, too indulged in the feeling of Ellie’s strong hands gripping your thighs so deliciously, sure to leave marks in their shape when you both wake up in the morning.

Your back is arching almost painfully, your hand gripping her thigh as you find the rhythm Ellie has set for you, finding the perfect spot and keeping it there as you drive both you and her to your orgasms.

“I’m…Ellie you feel so good…you’re gonna make me cum” you squeak out, eyebrows furrowed as you finally look down at the girl beneath you, only to find that she’s just as much of a mess as you are. Her hair is messy and her lips look so pouty and kissable. It’s hard to make out, but her fanged teeth are pressing into her lips, and you’re sure it’s the sexiest thing you’ve seen in your entire life.

She gives you an encouraging nod, one of her hands coming to your ass and kneading it harshly before giving it a firm spank, the sinful noise echoing off the walls of her pristine bedroom.

“I know baby…I know…come on, want you to cum with me…that’s it…that’s my good girl” her praises make your chest burn, and it leaves knots in your stomach. It only drives you further, your hips moving faster as they roll against Ellie’s, desperately chasing both hers and your orgasm.

“Ellie…Ellie I’m…I’m gonna-“ you cry out, back arching as you grip her thighs quickly, feeling your own shake as your orgasm begins washing over you.

Ellie catches it right before it happens, the girl quickly sitting up and wrapping her arms around your body, pressing your chest against hers as she pulls you down to kiss her passionately, her own orgasm washing over her like a fucking train.

Your bodies are so in tune, so in sync that your moans almost mix to create a symphony that can only be described as love, total and unconditional love as her arms keep you close, as if stopping you from running away from her, from the feeling she gives you. Her lips are working against yours as you breath hard, struggling to catch your breath in the sloppy kiss.

You’re a whining mess, your poor pussy far too sensitive to deal with the amount of pleasure that Ellie brought to you, all of it washing over you like an intense sea of euphoria, nearly drowning you as you held onto the girl with weak hands.

She knows you’re weak, because she’s pulling you down to rest your warm body against her cool sheets, all while keeping her cool body pressed against yours to bring you back down to earth with her.

“That’s it baby…I know….did so good for me…” she sighs softly as she leaves gentle kisses against your cheeks and eyes, watching as the aftermath of your orgasm slowly pulls you to the depths of sleep, all of it too much on your body.

“My beautiful girl…my girl…my girl…” she hums out, almost like a song as she watches you cling to her in your sleep, soft hums and huffs leaving your lips, all of which makes Ellie smile adoringly at you as she holds you while you sleep.

And even while you’re settling into one of the deepest sleeps you’ve ever experienced, you don’t miss the soft kisses against your lips and cheeks, all paired with the constant, non stop praises from Ellie.

You especially don’t miss the way she leans in settles against the pillow next to you, mumbling the softest, sweetest words to you as her hands caressing your naked body.

“I love you, pretty girl..”