#one day ill bother cleaning them up and post it

[tit-crevice]

tsym! ive actually read and bookmarked it twice now :) i dont usually like fake dating but this one just got me! these two have my heart <3

i have this stupid need to write a tanbug fic with but a soul stealing need to write bottom tangerine. WHY OH WHY MUST U DO THIS TO ME. my first ao3 fic will be of these two. i just know it. almost 2 years of struggling to write and seeing these two lord homotrons in bullet train spurred it for me. godbless.

[gracieheartspedro]

For Cryin’ Out Loud

pairing: post-outbreak! joel miller x afab! reader

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

word count: 7.9k

description: living with joel is complicated, especially when you can’t sleep due to nightmares. when you find yourself in his bed, you can’t help yourself. but joel sure can. give him a day to mull it over.

warnings: pretty slow burn, kinda forced proximity, kinda angsty, unspecified age gap (don’t like it, don’t read it), joel gives you tons of nicknames (darlin’, kiddo, etc.), discussions of nightmares and possible mental illnesses, some fluff, reader isn’t really described, joel is kinda a gaslighter, he’s also a bit pervy, unprotected p in v (wrap it y’all), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk, joel like worships you!!!!!, joel licks his fingers clean, giving genitalia pronouns, joel’s a big boy. think that’s it. lemme know what I missed!

author’s note: I really enjoyed writing this. the idea is pretty simple but I love domestic jackson!joel. I promise i’ll try to switch it up soon and write something that isn’t jackson!era lol. support your fav fics by reblogging and commenting!! thanks love ya <3

For some reason, you always find yourself standing at the threshold of the front door when you cannot sleep. 

The air was especially brisk tonight. You wrapped yourself in a gray chunky sweater you found in the lost and found in Jackson’s thrift store, hoping to regain some warmth. Your bed may have been comfortable, but it was the place where nightmares usually plagued you. 

It was too late to be awake, and you knew that if you were caught, you would hear it from Joel. He always reprimanded you. Every time he caught you up late, it was like your father woke up and found your hand in the cookie jar. 

The dynamic between you two had changed since arriving in Jackson, and you almost resented him for it. When it was just you, him, and Ellie, you were managing a family unit. Joel was always the protective father, you being the mom or the voice of reason, and Ellie being chaos. 

When Ellie and Joel’s relationship shifted, he took on a fatherly role for you. It bothered you. A lot. 

In a moment of contemplation, you hear footsteps coming down the steps behind you. 

He’s wearing flannel pajama pants and no shirt, his hairy tummy something you did not see often. 

“What are you doing awake?” He questions, his voice groggy with a twinge of annoyance. 

You do not feel like explaining yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without a justification. 

You huff, leaning your back against the door frame so you can get a full look at the broad man. “Can’t sleep. Thought staring into the darkness would help.”

He grunts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “How’s that workin’ for you, sweetheart?”

You could not close your eyes without the haunting dreams that seemed lively and so real. Every night, you had the same recurring ones. You were being chased, hunted, or murdered. Or all of the above. You would wake in a cold sweat, not wanting to shut your eyelids ever again. 

“Hm,” You say, staring back outside for a brief moment, “‘Was better when you weren’t looking over my shoulder.”

He chuckles, “Get back to bed.”

“I can’t, Joel.”

“You can and will. You’re no good when you’re tired.”

“If I close my eyes, Joel, I will just have the same goddamn nightmares I have every night. And I will end up doing what I’m doing now, which is trying to get some fresh air to forget them.”

“You’re not gonna forget ‘em with some fresh air. You just need to… get over them.”

The breeze picks up as soon as he says it, almost like the world knew the tension would have to be broken with some frigid air. You retort with, “And how do you get over yours?”

"I just accept them," he says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I don't have time to dwell on them. There's always more important things to worry about."

"I'm more tired in the morning when I just endure them." You explain, trying not to cry about it. But you are so sick of them. The same thing every night.

“I get it. One day they will subside, I’m sure of it. But for now, you gotta-”

You just want him to shut up. At the same time, your mind is trying to remember the last time you did not have a nightmare. The memory makes your stomach churn. “You remember that one time we were forced to share that sleeping bag? Back in Pittsburgh?”

“Yeah,” His tone was wary, “What about it?”

"That was the first night I didn't have it." You explain, your voice a bit shaking at the insinuation. You don’t want to face the fact that Joel, the man that you have known for going on 10 years, kept your nightmares at bay. The same man who continuously rejected you and told you that he was old enough to be your dad. The same man that told you no, I don’t like you like that. I never will. That Joel. 

“And? Why are you bringing this up now?”

"Because every night I go to my bed and I'm forced to face them alone. When you were there... they didn't even bother holding my mind hostage.”

He took another step closer, closing some of the distance between you two. He towers over you and you can’t help but stare up at him in awe. Joel has always been a complicated part of your life. You consider him your sexual awakening, honestly, but he will never ever know that. Over the years, he’s only gotten more handsome. 

But now, he has a curious expression written all over his face.

"Are you saying you want to share a bed with me?" he asks, his voice gruff and low.

You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to answer. You knew that was stepping over a boundary for Joel. He liked his space. He didn’t like you impeding on that space, especially. Your bedroom was the furthest away from his for a reason.

"I don't know." You manage to say.

Joel's gaze darkened, his expression was completely unreadable. You wish you could read his mind, but you should be grateful you can not. 

Because in Joel’s mind, he’s trying to formulate a way to convince you to stay away from him altogether. The wall he has built over the last decade was intentional. He did not want to hurt you any further. He already knew you had feelings for him, but he was an old man. He did not want to drag you into his mess, all the baggage he carried. He looked after you, he shared a home with you, and that’s it. Strictly platonic. 

He shifted on his feet a little, unable to tear his eyes away from you. You shook like a little leaf.

"You don't know?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble.

You nod, "I don't know if I want that."

You do want that. But you want more, too. You knew you would be playing with fire. You would just be disappointed. 

Joel’s temptations are buried deep but they still fester every now and again. Some days he would catch a glance at you getting dressed in the crack of your door and have to take a cold shower. As soon as he felt those emotions bubble in his chest, he would try to distract himself. Maybe he would take a longer patrol. Maybe he would go to the Tipsy Bison and try to find a woman to take home. That one never really worked. 

“Well, what do you want then? Because standin’ at the door and letting all the cold air in ain’t gonna work for me or you.”

You look down at your picked-over fingernails and contemplate your next sentence. You don't want to be heartbroken in the morning when you wake up and he's there sleeping peacefully next to you and you're not... his.

"I want to sleep with you."

Joel was not expecting such a blunt response from you, but he appreciated you not beating around the bush about it. He gestures for you to step out of the doorway so he can shut the door, which you do. 

He looked down at you, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the exhaustion and uncertainty. 

"You sure?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.

You just nod as he locks the front door. You couldn’t believe you were doing this. 

Joel couldn’t believe it either. Maybe it was the tiredness or the instincts he felt to protect you, but he was not mad at the idea of sharing his bed with you. 

You signal for him to go upstairs, “You lead the way.”

-

Joel’s room was always off-limits to you. So when you step into his small little world, you take it all in. 

The artwork around the room was mainly nature landscapes. He had a big dresser right at the room's entrance with picture frames of Sarah, Ellie, and other family members. You were even included in one photo—a picture of you and him on some horses from last year. 

A shirt littered one side of the bed, so you took that as it was probably his side. Unfortunately for you, it was the right side. You felt a pang of guilt realizing you would probably end up restlessly lying in Joel’s bed if you were stuck on the left. 

Before he can pull back the blanket for himself, you stop him. 

“Uh, can I sleep on that side?”

He completely halts in his motions, turning his head towards you with a blank expression. “My side? Why?”

You lick your lips, already regretting this whole thing. 

“Because I have had this superstition since I was a kid that I could only sleep on the right side of the bed."

Joel wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. He can tell you are at war in your head about the question, your expression practically anticipating his rejection. 

"Superstitions, huh?" he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips."You and your weird beliefs."

You watch as he crosses to the other side of the bed and lifts the blanket. Is he actually letting you have his side? Maybe he doesn’t hate you. 

“You could also call it a compulsion, but superstitions seem more fun and less like a mental illness.”

He laughs this time, his deep chuckle making you feel a bit more relaxed about the situation. You did not feel like a burden as much. You walk to the right side and pull back his navy blue sheets and blanket. The spot looks warm and inviting so when you crawl in next to Joel, you start to realize that you’re back in the same situation you were in years ago in that sleeping bag. He was so close and warm and you wanted nothing more but for him to hold you and keep you comfortable.

But then another thing came to mind before you could imagine his arms around you. 

You usually sleep on your right side or back, but now you don't know what to do because you didn't know how Joel slept.

"Do you sleep on your side or back?"

Joel studies you as you fidget beside him, your uncertainty causing him to smirk slightly. It was almost endearing, seeing you be completely out of control of your surroundings. He remembers back when you were traveling with him you had an obsessive need to straighten up everything before you fell asleep. You had to roll yourself up in your sleeping bag the same way every night. 

"Usually on my back," he said finally. "But I can sleep on my side, too."

You swallow, trying to picture yourself sleeping. For some reason you felt the urge to have control of the situation, dictating exactly how he has to sleep, too. "Can I... I'll sleep on my side if you can sleep on your back? Is that okay?"

Joel had to suppress a smirk at your request. You knew he was trying to hold back a snarky remark. Instead, he surprises you.

"Sure, you can sleep on your side," he agreed, shifting his body weight onto his back, "’n I'll sleep on my back. No big deal."

You turn to face him, tucking the pillow further under your head. You can tell his eyes are heavy from exhaustion. You know it's time to shut up, to go to sleep, but you feel the need to say something else to him. Sometimes your brain concocts questions and statements and you know you shouldn’t say them, but your mouth betrays you.  

"When was the last time you had a girl in your bed?"

Why the fuck would you ask that? You think to yourself. It fell out of your mouth like drool.

Joel's eyes widened at your blunt question, surprise and a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. You knew he was probably just expecting you to lay here next to him, maybe roll around a bit, then sleep. But instead, it’s an interrogation.

He took a deep breath, his mind rattling around as he tried to think of a response. He didn't want to admit what his genuine answer was to you, but he too could not help himself.

"Why do you want to know that?" he asks, his voice steely.

You hate that he even responded because now you needed to defend yourself.

"I uh, don't know. I don't know why it matters."

Joel chuckled softly, noting that you probably just had a case of word vomit. You always told him you were infamous for putting your foot in your mouth, especially in awkward situations.

"Curiosity got the better of you, huh?" he asks, rubbing his face with his hands. “You just can’t help yourself, sweetheart.”

He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side to face you, his gaze studying your expression.

You smirk, grateful that he's letting it slide. When he turns onto his side and he's at eye level with you, your face drops a bit. He is ruining the vision in your head. He’s throwing a wrench in your plans.

"You're supposed to be on your back, sir."

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your comment. He knew he was supposed to be on his back, but the new angle allowed him to see you better in the faint moonlight.

"Don't worry," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'll turn back over in a minute. Just... enjoying the view for a bit."

You roll your eyes, lifting your hands from under the covers and lightly hitting his arm. You knew he was just fucking with you now. 

"Okay, for that, I want to know the answer to my stupid question."

Joel let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He shook his head, amused by your persistence. You start to think about it and you have never really seen him bring anyone home. Maybe it had been a very long time and he was embarrassed. 

"Alright, alright," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Last time I had a girl in my bed..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes dropping to the covers, his mind racing to find the right words.

"Go on..."

Joel took another deep breath, his voice dropping even lower as he spoke.

"It's been a long time, kiddo," he admitted, his voice pierced with a bit of shame. "Almost ten years, if I'm being honest."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "No way... You've never just... got it on with someone in bed?"

Joel's face flushed with embarrassment at your blunt question, a mix of shock and slight irritation flashing across his eyes.

"Jesus, you really don't hold back, do ya?" he muttered. He shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable in a different way. He hadn't expected the conversation to turn so personal, so quickly and he did not want to face you anymore. He was mortified. 

You mentally slap yourself in the face.

"I'm sorry, I am just tired and delusional. Uh, you don't have to answer that."

Joel could practically feel the humiliation radiating off you and he too felt the exact same way. You knew how to add to an already awkward situation.

"No, no, it's fine," he reassured you, his voice a bit gentler now. "I get it. You're tired, and your filter has taken a backseat."

"Yeah, exactly..."

He shifted on the bed, turning onto his back again, his gaze shifting to the ceiling, avoiding your curious stare.

You could not help but stare at his side profile. A prominent straight nose. His downturned lips are surrounded by some fine lines that show his age. He was a beautiful man now, but you can’t help but imagine him back in his 20s. He had to have been a hit with the ladies back then.

Joel could feel your gaze on him, studying his face. And while you were not scrutinizing him, he felt like a commodity in a museum or something.  He forced himself to keep his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to meet your eyes.

"So… ten years and no sex?”

You could seriously, not help yourself.

"Correct.” He grumbles, still not meeting your stare.

"Damn, Joel." You mutter, adjusting a bit to sit up a little more on your pillow. "I seriously thought you were sleeping around the whole time we have been in Jackson.”

He finally turns your way, a bit of offense on his face. “Why would you think that?”

You shrug, not wanting to insult him. But that’s how you formulated your grudge towards him. It was easy to just chalk everything up to problems with random women you have seen around town. 

“You just give off the energy…”

“What?”

You huff, laying back on the pillow. “I don’t know, Joel! I feel like when I’m around you all the ladies think you’re handsome. They stare.”

“They are staring because you’re always following me around and we aren’t married or… together. They think we are odd.” 

You had never heard such things around Jackson, but it does sort of make sense. Everyone was probably just confused because you two lived together but were not a couple. You can admit it is bizarre, but it just did not feel like an option any other way, in your mind. So Tommy gave you two a bigger house and you set up separate rooms. 

But in actuality, Joel secretly told Tommy that he did not want you too far from him. So when Tommy couldn’t give you any other houses nearby, Joel just told him that you two would be roommates.

“Well fuck ‘em.” You mutter, trying not to sound too offended by the thought of people gossiping about you two.

Joel just nods. You settle by tucking your arm under your pillow. You yawn, the exhaustion now taking over your body. You watch Joel grab a pair of reading glasses from the side table and a book. You decide not to bother him, especially because he probably wanted to just read himself to sleep instead of being interrogated by you any further.

You close your eyes and eventually fall asleep. The deeper you get, Joel notices how your breathing pattern changes. When he’s finally ready to get some shut-eye as well, he watches as your body crawls closer to him. Your arm swings over his stomach and rests on his forearm. He is so shocked he does not move a muscle. 

You adjust some more, not knowing what you are doing. Your leg creeps up and tucks right between his. You snuggle your face right into his chest. The only movement Joel decides to make is slinging his arm over your shoulders to pull you in tighter. 

It’s the first time in years that you two slept soundly, with no interruptions. No nightmares, no sudden intrusions, nothing. Silence and snores fill the room and that’s it.

-

When you wake up, it’s slow and gradual. Your brain hardly computes that you’re laying on top of Joel’s shirtless frame, until your hand runs across his warm tummy. 

You crook your neck up, looking at the handsome man you are spreading across. 

His lips are slightly ajar, letting out hardly-there snores. They are so pretty and pink and you cannot help but touch them with feather-like fingertips. You would feel so guilty waking him up-

His eyes slowly open taking notice of your actions even though you tried not to stir him. Your eyes fly open in shock, but he does not seem very annoyed. He smiles. 

“Mornin’ darlin’,” He says in a deep sleep-laced voice. You smile back at him, loving that he decided to call you the nickname you always got giddy over. You press your fingers into his chest before replying.

“I didn’t have a nightmare.”

His hand comes up from your shoulders and tucks some hair behind your ear as he stares down at you, “That’s good kiddo. I’m glad you slept well.”

The intimacy is almost too much. The way this is how it would be if you woke up to Joel every morning. It sends your brain into overdrive and you force yourself to ruin it a bit.

“Woulda slept even better if you didn’t talk so much in your sleep.”

Joel froze for a moment, his cheeks immediately flushing pink with embarrassment. He sits up a bit more, adjusting to the brighter lighting in his room. He knew he had a problem with talking in his sleep. Ellie used to talk about it all the time. He dreaded hearing what he was saying while curled up next to you.

"Uh... what did I say?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure.

"Something about it felt so good to be pressed up against someone, I don't know..." 

You could not help yourself and started to laugh. You knew you were going to get a rise out of him. 

Joel's face flushed an even deeper shade of pink as you started to laugh, clearly amused by your joke. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to come up with an excuse. He was just dreaming, it was not about you. 

"W-what?" he spluttered out instead of making an excuse. "I didn't... I didn't say anything like that."

You have a shit-eating grin on your face and you press your hands on his chest to prop yourself up. You enjoyed watching him squirm.

Joel's eyes flickered down to your hands on his chest. He sickly thought they felt so right placed there. He imagined what you would look like fully mounting him. 

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but you could see through his stone-cold exterior.

"You're messing with me, aren't you?" he grumbled, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Fully fuckin' with you." You giggle, hoping he is not really that mad at you. 

“You’re a brat.”

You move your foot slightly, running it up his leg. It sends shockwaves up his body, having you so close and moving around so seamlessly. 

"No, you said something about how beautiful, alluring, and incredible I am. Said I was the girl of your dreams…"

"Yeah, right," he said, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. "You expect me to believe that?"

"So, you don't believe me?"

"No, I don't believe you," he says, his voice stern but playful. "I think you're a dirty little liar, trying to play me for a fool."

"A dirty little liar, huh? Well, it's good to know that you don't think I'm beautiful, alluring, and incredible." You giggle at his acknowledgment, knowing he caught you red-handed.

"Oh, I never said that," he smirked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "You are all of those things, darlin’. But you're also a dirty little liar who likes to play games."

"So you think I'm beautiful?" You crack, the biggest smile painted on your face. You don’t even care that he’s calling you a liar because it does not matter. Joel thinks you are beautiful. 

“‘Course I do.”

You push yourself up onto your butt, sitting crisscross next to him. He secretly wishes you were still curled up on top of him. 

“You always this nice in the morning?” You ponder, your fingertips starting to toy with the hair on his stomach. He tries not to pay mind to it, letting you have full access to touch him. 

But it’s driving him insane. The way you look freshly woken up, completely enamored with the idea of him calling you beautiful. You have some puffiness under your eyes and your lips are more swollen than usual.

“I am always nice to you.”

You let out a scoff, “No, you’re not.”

He notices the shift in your tone and starts to get defensive, “Now you’re just lyin’.” 

Joel always loved to gaslight you in these situations. You knew better than to let him get away with it, especially now. “No there was that one time you told me you did not like me and that you would never like me. How you are old enough to be my dad-”

“Because I am!”

And there’s the wall. The only constant in you two’s relationship. He was so good at throwing it up when feelings were being expressed. When vulnerability was presented, Joel could not help but reject it. 

“And the world’s fuckin’ ended, Joel! Big deal!” You almost yell, moving your hands from him. 

Why does he already miss your hands?

He huffs, crossing his arms over his soft chest. “We have had this conversation for the last 10 years.’M not sure why we keep rehashing it.”

“And every time you turn me down it’s another fuckin’ stab in the heart.”

“You know why we can’t,” He practically growls. You can not stand to even look at him anymore with your bitterness and irritation taking over. 

“Whatever, Joel.” 

As soon as you say it, you’re already leaving his room and heading to your own. When you slam the door, you hope you have made your point. You want to scream and punch a hole in the wall, but instead you just furiously stomp around the room and grab your clothes. You had patrol at noon, so you needed to get to the mess hall before breakfast was over. You try not to cry as you strip down and get dressed.

Joel sits in bed, reeling. He hates that it has become a conversation every six months. He hated that rejecting you always sent you into a spiral of hating him for extended periods. It’s not that he did not want you, it was simply just not in the cards. He was too old to be in love. He was too old to play house with you. He just could not submit to the idea of leading you on, especially because you had so much more life to live. 

He finally works up the courage to get out of bed and put on some clothes. He opts for putting on his typical jeans and thick flannel. It was getting colder and he knew by the end of the winter, you would end up with half his flannels anyway, so he had to enjoy them while he had them. 

You storm downstairs, going to the back door for your boots when you spot him in the kitchen. 

“You got pat-”

“Yes.” You respond quickly, shoving your foot into your shoes. He stands behind you with a mug full of tea, watching your every move. 

“Who are you-”

“Jesse.”

He was asking his usual questions, which you were not in the mood to answer. 

“Hey, can you-”

You snap your head back at him, giving him the glare you gave him as a warning usually. By now, he takes it as a hint and backs off. But not this time. 

“Can I what?”

He rolls his eyes, “Can you fuckin’ not be a brat about this?”

You wish your glare came with knives. If that were the case, Joel Miller would be dead on his kitchen floor. 

You are so thrown off by the question that you just watch him get angrier when you do not respond. 

“Are you serious, right now?” You press, keeping your voice from cracking. 

He brings the mug up to his mouth, taking an obnoxious sip. When he pulls the mug away, you notice how steaming it is. “You always pull this shit-”

“No, you do! You do this shit to me every fuckin’ time, Joel. You sweet talk me, make me feel comfortable, have me lapping everything up in the palm of your hands, and then you snatch it away. Then have the audacity to get mad at me!”

You are yelling now and it is throwing him off. Joel knows better than to interrupt you like you do to him. You were the kind of person who would calm down if you felt heard. 

The way he knew you down to your core made this all so painful. Because if he was not so stubborn and true to his convictions, he would have fucked you the moment you touched his lips this morning. 

“I ain’t tryin’ to make this harder than-” “Too fuckin’ late.”

You think back to the moment last night when you knew you were going to hurt your own feelings by sleeping with him. You knew better, yet here you are, still blaming him for your stupidity.

He stands there, still holding his mug, staring you down like a wounded doe who got pierced with an arrow. He feels guilty like he misled you. Before he can say anything, you are lacing up your boots and leaving out the front door without another word. 

-

All day long, Joel wanders around the house trying to get rid of the pit in his stomach. Nothing works. A shower. Reading a book. Cutting wood. As soon as he tried to use laundry as a distraction, he reached into his hamper and found one of your t-shirts. He held it close and smelled it, trying to wrap his head around how he got here. 

You spend all day, silently fuming on horseback with Jesse. When he tries to get you to open up, you ice him out and tell him to focus on the trail in front of him. 

You get back by sundown, the sun setting making it a lot chiller than you expected. You decide to take the long way home, wanting to avoid being home for as long as possible. You were not ready to face Joel, let alone share a space with him. But unfortunately, during your patrol, you fell into some mud and needed a shower. The more time it spent on your clothes and body, the grosser you felt. 

You open the front door, announcing that you are home. It was a habit you and Joel developed after you both pulled guns on each other during late-night arrivals. 

You hear Joel mumble something from the living room, but you do not stop to listen and continue on your way upstairs to the bathroom. 

You strip down as soon as the door is closed, tossing your muddy clothing into a hamper in the corner. You would get them washed and hung as soon as you shower off. 

You hear Joel’s footsteps creaking around the upstairs hallway as you scrub your body with homemade soap and warm water. 

When you start to dry yourself off, you hear Joel grunting something in the hallway. You wrap yourself in a towel and peek your head out the door. He’s on his hands and knees wiping something off the hardwood. “What’s goin’ on?”

He looks up at you, your body only covered in a bleach-stained blue towel. It makes his head spin. He can’t even be mad that you tracked in mud. 

He swallows, gripping the cloth he’s using tighter. “You got mud everywhere.”

You step out, not even really thinking about the fact that you are not properly dressed in front of Joel. You were still mad at him, anyway. Who cares what he thinks?

“Sorry, I could’ve cleaned it up.”

He returns to wiping the wood, “It’s fine, I got it, kiddo.”

You accept his response and move on to your room, but the draft you leave behind drifts to Joel’s nostrils. Your soap smells like lavender and it always sends his mind racing when you are fresh from a shower. He clears his throat, trying to get through the emotions filling his chest. 

But it’s been like this all day. You’re all around him even when you’re not physically here. How can he get away from you? Why is he trying to run in the first place?

He’s on his knees in your hallway, cleaning up your mess, sniffing the air you leave behind because he’s fucking in love with you and he cannot help himself anymore. 

Joel starts to think about how peaceful he felt having you next to him last night and how he would love to feel that way every night. For once he’s not thinking about what everyone else would think. For once he’s thinking selfishly and caving into every desire he has ever pondered about you. How would you feel under him? How would your lips feel pressed against his pulse point? 

His body was on fire, thinking about you. 

You are fiddling with some clothes in your dresser after you flick on the overhead light. You do not hear him come into your room behind you. 

You are so wrapped up in your own thoughts that when he clears his throat to announce he’s in your room, you scream. Loud. 

“For cryin’ out loud, woman!” 

You grip your towel tighter when you turn and see him standing at your mercy. 

“Joel, what the fuck?” You yell, gesturing to the fact that you are practically naked. He does not care, of course, and his ears are ringing from your piercing scream. He gathers himself as you shift back, trying to create some distance from him.

He is trying not to gawk at the fact that your grip on the towel against your chest is only pushing up your cleavage. He’s biting back everything. “Can we talk?”

“Talk about what? The fact you crept into my room when I was trying to change? Are we past boundaries now?” 

You are pissed, trying not to rattle off another million things to discuss with him. He’s only really talking about one thing. 

He scoffs at your last statement. “Boundaries were already out the window when you crawled into bed with me last night.”

Silence fills the room as you completely stop breathing. The anger you originally felt dissipates. 

“Joel-“

“I ain’t doin’ this back and forth anymore,” He starts shifting in his spot, unsure if he really should be doing this. “I can’t live how I've been livin’. Somethin’s gotta give.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. 

“You are the one who won’t give, Joel.”

As soon as you say it, he practically drags himself over to you. Completely destitute. You have never seen him look so desperate before. You can tell that he’s been at war with himself ever since you left this morning. His eyes never lied.

His hand creeps up your bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

But then you remember his words from this morning. You start feeling like this is just a moment of weakness for him and that he will regret it later. You had to stop it before it was too late. You did not want to deal with the consequences. 

“Joel, you said we can’t-”

“Fuck what I said,” He cuts you off, “Do you want this?”

You stare into those brown eyes, searching for a sign of hesitance. You cannot believe Joel is being this vulnerable with you. 

But, you do want him. God, you have wanted him so badly for so long. You have searched for him in every man you have ever been with since knowing him. 

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. He takes note of your parted lips, every word failing you at that moment.

“Darlin’-”

“Yes,” You finally manage. “Yes, I do want this.”

It’s all he needs. He closes the gap between you two by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his space. His lips crash onto yours, not wasting another breath of air waiting to indulge in his sickest fantasies. 

You are all Joel ever dreamed about. He knew that once he caved and physically gave in, his world would be shot and everything would revolve around you. For years it had been a teetering object on a cliff, one nudge would have him falling. He always managed. But now, he was falling head first. 

His lips move so perfectly with your own. Your hand released your towel and found the tufts of his curls at the base of his head. You did not care that the article pooled around your feet, leaving you completely bare in front of Joel. You have wanted this all along. To be uncovered, to be stripped down to the rawest form. He broke the kiss briefly just to scan your naked body, his forehead pressed against your own. 

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.”

Your heart stutters as his hand traces your stomach down to your hips, all the way down to your ass. He stops there, grabbing a handful. 

“I need you,” You choke out before pressing your lips to his over and over again. “Right now.”

He mumbles “jump” into your mouth and you do so, his hands working quickly to hike you up onto his waist. He carries you to your bed, wasting no time dropping you onto your back. 

He cannot get enough of your soft, swollen lips. Every time he pulls away slightly, he dives in again even more aggressively than the last time. 

You are so hypnotized by the way he feels on top of you. In the light, he seems so much broader than he was last night. He’s still fully clothed, to your dismay. You start to tug at his shirt, motioning him to remove the articles that are in your way. 

He throws off his shirt before he stands up at the edge of the bed and pushes down his jeans. 

“Joel… I-“

He just shuts you up with another passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth like he’s trying to melt into your mouth. Your hands trail up his back, gripping onto his shoulders, holding him down so he is pressing against your nude body. 

“God, I have wanted this for so long,” He sputters, trying not to sound too desperate. “Been wanting this.”

That’s when his hand reaches down between your thighs and gathers the wetness your slit has to offer. His fingers dance across it, starting from the top all the way to your spongy entrance. 

“Please, Joel.”

He loves the lust-laced tone you speak with when you say his name. It almost makes him cum there and then. 

You watch as he makes his way down your body, peppering kisses from your shoulder to your hip. When he parts your legs, you feel quite exposed. The adrenaline of being so spread for him manifests into a moan. 

“You are divine, baby.”

The use of that adjective is so-not-Joel that it makes you giggle. He notes your reaction and decides to sink down into you. When his mouth gets close to your core, it’s no longer a laughing matter. 

He uses his fingers again, using them to spread open your pussy lips. He cannot keep his eyes away from how dripping you are. “This all for me?”

“Y-yes, Joel.”

“God, I was a fuckin’ fool for so long. Could’ve had her earlier and I never fuckin’ caved. Such an idiot.”

Him giving your cunt pronouns was enough to have you throwing your head back and shuttering. His touch was magnetic like he knew exactly what buttons to push as he rubbed his fingers and palm over your core. 

“Yeah, you’ve been missin’ out. Every night…” You swallow before looking down at the man that is enamored with your pussy, “E-every night I would lay in this bed, fuckin’ myself just thinkin’ about you.”

He growls at the statement, before teasingly kissing your clit. “Every night, hm, kiddo?”

“God, yes.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as he leans forward more and dives in. His nose is pressed firmly against the top of your pussy, nudging forward every time his tongue enters your hole. When that motion became consistent, you began to note the rumblings in the pit of your stomach. A familiar build-up that you managed to get when you were playing with yourself. 

His fingers move in tandem with his lips and tongue. While his middle and pointer finger slide in and out of you, his lips wrap around your clit. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming. 

You do not know where to center yourself, so your hands grip the bed sheets you were completely soaking as Joel pulls the first orgasm out of you. 

“That’s it, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, hm?”

You hardly make a noise, the orgasm is so earth-shattering that you just writhe on the mattress. 

“Oh my god…” You groan, finally able to catch your breath. When Joel removes his fingers from you, you watch as he slowly brings them up to his lips.

When he inserts them in his mouth, you gawk at him, unsure how to react. He watches your expression and chuckles darkly.

“Mm, never seen a man enjoy the taste of ya?”

You shake your head. “Never expected to hear those words leave your mouth, either.”

“Wait ‘til you hear what else I got to say.”

He stands up beside the bed, grabs your hips, and brings them to the edge. He is tossing you around with ease, bringing your lower body flush with his. He yanks down his briefs, revealing himself to you. You instantly take notice of how well-endowed he is. You never thought you would ever be close to his cock, let alone have it lining up at your entrance. 

“Joel…“ You stop him with your small voice, but still welcoming him in with your legs opened wide, “I don’t know if it will fit.”

He grins, “It will, baby. Just relax for me, okay?”

You watch him slide his member along your center, the feeling so blissfully overstimulating. You whine a bit, raising your hips to his. 

But Joel continues his torture, enjoying the way you’re squirming under him. The way your eyebrows are knitted together, your eyes shut as you grind up into him. It’s the prettiest sight. 

“Ready?”

Your eyes fly open as you watch him ease his way into your core, the sound of squelching filling the room. You don’t think you have ever been this wet for someone. 

“Oh my fuckin’ god, Joel…”

He smiles as he inches in, “Squeezin’ my cock so good, darlin’.”

When he’s fully sheathed inside, he tests the waters by drawing out slowly. You roll your hips in a circle, trying to feel out every inch of him. He fits, but you know once he starts to move faster, the stretch will become overwhelming. 

He’s trying to focus and not blow his load immediately. You look so beautiful below him, your tits slowly shifting back and forth every time he draws back and forth. He reaches out, wanting to feel the flesh between his fingers. God, he craved every inch of you, he realizes. 

You open your legs as far as you can, letting him hit you at a different angle. The movement allows him to slip in a bit more seamlessly, so when he speeds up his thrusts, you don’t feel like you will completely split in half. 

He brings your leg up to hips, and feeling your soft delicate skin against him makes him lose all sense. His hips snap faster the more you moan out for him. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, girl. I can’t believe I was missin’ out on this cunt,” He babbles, “Need this cunt every day from now on. Gonna have you all to myself every night.”

You are too fucked out of your mind to read into those implications.

“‘M all yours, Joel.”

He smiles, slowing down a bit. “Keep talkin’ like that and ‘ll finish a lot sooner than you.”

You sit up a bit, your eyes flickering over his entire body. He notices you checking out his nude frame, which makes him feel a bit more bold. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You love the way his tongue slips into your mouth so effortlessly. When he opens his mouth, his facial hair tickles your nose a bit which makes you smile. When his hips pick back up to a quicker pace, it sends you gasping into his mouth.

“Please, Joel,” You whine, that familiar build starts up but this time it’s like a freight train. Moving so quickly down every nerve ending in your body. “I’m gonna cum.”

“‘M with you, darlin’. Soak this dick. I’m right behind ya.”

His dirty talk causes the crash. Your body practically lifts off the mattress. You cry out so loud you are sure a neighbor could hear you. You try to gain your bearings, but you are panting like you just ran a mile. 

Joel fucks you through it, but the restriction your pussy is putting on his cock sends him over the edge. His hips stutter into yours, his seed emptying into your spent hole. He just keeps repeating your name as his thrusts slow down.

He has never had such a visceral orgasm in his life. His knees are weak and can hardly keep up his weight. He practically falls on top of you, which does not offend you at all. His warm sweaty body on top of you is almost reassuring. 

“You okay, kiddo?” He finally mutters as his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You just nod, bringing your hand up to his salt and pepper hair. You tug lightly, smiling to yourself. 

“I’m more than okay.”

He finally sits up, his cock spilling out of you as he adjusts his position. Your hole drips a mixture of cum onto your newly clean sheets, but you could care less. It’s just another thing to hand wash tonight.

Joel stumbles to the middle of the room, picking up your bath towel. He uses it to wipe himself up before coming over to you. Your legs are still slightly apart so he decides to clean you up a bit. He’s gentle, knowing that you are probably still sensitive.

Once he finishes up, he crawls next to you as you continue to recover. Your bones felt like jello so standing up to adjust yourself was not an option.

So instead of facing him, you stare up at your ceiling fan as his eyes lock onto every detail of your profile. It brings him back to one night you two shared under the stars a couple of years ago. It was his turn to keep watch so you curled up in your sleeping bag by the fire. He admired you from across the flames, the orange hues lit up every angle of your face. It was at that moment that Joel realized that he could not picture his life without you. You had weaseled your way into every facet of his life and he used to resent the impact you had on him. You were younger, more patient but still stubborn like him. You made him laugh, like genuinely laugh, for the first time since the infection. While you may have been a bit impulsive with your emotions, he envied the way you could say exactly what you were thinking. 

Joel did not want to love you, but it was impossible not to. 

You finally look over at him, noticing the softness in his gaze.

“Are you okay?” You pose, scrunching your nose. 

He gives you a toothless smile, his eyes crinkling a bit. “I just can’t wait to sleep next to you for the rest of my life.”

tags of people I love and who may wanna read (no pressure I just love u) (some of u did ask tho) : @ashleyfilm @hockeyhughes @pedrospookie @guiltyasdave @amanitacowboy @myownwholewildworld

[s-4pphics]

tag, you're it! (e.w.)

ITS PRIDE MONTH PUSSSSSSYYYYYYY 

omg this is kindaaaa…. yeah

imma lil proud LOL hope y’all like it 

wc;cw: 14.2k, ceosdaughter!ellie, tagger/artist!oc, ANGST!!, mentions of depression and suicidal ideation, illness, parental death & brief mentions of funerals, descriptions of foster care/homeless shelters and poverty, both oc n ellie have daddy issues, MOMMY ISSUES!!, brief mentions of drug addiction(coke), homophobia DURING PRIDE MONTH🤨🤨, internalized homophobia and misogyny, ellie is a horny touch starved loser n kinda stalkerish?, mentions of criminal injustice(police, prisons, etc.) i hate it here, rich ppl being demons, SMUT!!!!! MDNI!!!!, light descriptions of masturbation, potential dubcon!!, sexual tension😟, bratty subbottom!ellie, mean domtop!oc she carries her dick on her like a glock lol, slight fearplay, KNIFE PLAY/BLOOD, DIRTY TALK, finger and strap sucking, fingering, pussy eating, MOMMY KINK!!, nipple play, squirting <333 n creaming <333, riding, reverse cowgirl, slapping(FACE!!! ass titties), hitting it from the bbbbback, loss of virginity, masochism LOL, a lil ass play LOL, pretty taboo themes catch it

“She’s… I genuinely believe she’s deranged, your honor! She’s… uncontrollable! Look at what she’s done to our city! Civilians can see her tracks everywhere they go, and it’s disgusting! Not to mention she’s a pervert!” 

You rolled your eyes as you listened to the high-pitched, ongoing shrieks of one of the wealthiest women in the state as she spat belittlements of you to the judge. 

You were… fucked. 

You adjusted in your uncomfortable chair, leaning back and crossing your arms over your chest, turning your head to eye your lawyer, arching a brow at him as you waited for his defenses for you. He looked… scared shitless, to say the least. 

Yeah. You were definitely going to fucking jail. 

Were these pieces of shit really going to treat you like Satan himself for pulling a measly, little prank? Has April Fools truly lost all meaning?

A couple of days ago, on April 1st, you took it upon yourself to spray paint ♡GIRLDICK♡ across the largest building in the city, which just so happened to be owned by the Miller family, if anyone even bothered to call their cultist bond that. Their wealth swiftly accumulated when the now deceased founder of the organization, Joel Miller, discovered some new form of AI technology… or whatever the elders at the shelter told you. His death shook your city years ago; You weren’t sure why it was so moving for people, but R.I.P, you guess. 

You assumed they were just another group of elitist fuckers, but he must’ve been decent at the most; You still remember his memorial broadcasting on the small TV at the shelter as the other residents mourned in solace. 

Regardless, you hope all their institutions across the nation collapse one day, preferably with the rest of them inside. 

The broad in the black, silk suit kept pointing her finger at you, and it took everything in your spirit to not get up out of your seat and rip it clean off her hand and shove it down her throat. 

Not every tag you’ve done around the city has been rooted in “perversion”. There’s nothing perverse about… loving girldick. It’s a way of life!

Fuck security cameras. 

Unbeknownst to them, you’ve already been coined as a hidden talent in the city, at least according to some people you know at the shelter. You’re faceless in the eye of the public, but that separation doesn’t negate their appreciation for your artwork. You even went viral for the mural you painted of your father for his birthday two years ago, even though the fucker that posted it on Instagram hadn’t included your signature. You could bet millions of people have seen it by now, and you gained absolutely nothing from it. 

But, of course, your form of creative expression was being reduced to a jizzing penis. You've created countless mosaics around the city that represent the purest forms of love and sex, and now you are being blasted for being some sort of corrupt sicko. You only drew what came natural to you, and if people felt a way about it, they could choke on the fattest girldick known to humanity. You hate rich people.

Your father didn’t sacrifice everything he had to teach you the complexities of sketching for your name to be attached to outlines of dicks. You didn’t grow up watching your father skip meals so he could get you a new water paint set for your birthday every year for your art to be lawfully ridiculed. The only comfort this situation brought was that you knew he would’ve found the sloppily drawn cock hysterical. You still remember his laugh after all this time. 

You miss him dearly. You probably could’ve been just as rich, if not more, as the bitch at the other table if he was still here with you. He would’ve ensured you didn’t stray off into the life you live now. 

Being in foster care was the dissipation of your joy. You were considered a problem child very early on: fighting the caretakers when they tried to calm you, cursing at them, stealing, and nobody wanted to adopt you because of that, regardless of your talents. You were set up to fail too early, and you despised the world because of it. 

Your record was horrendous, and you were going to jail. You fucking hate rich people.

… Except the Miller's eldest daughter. She gets a pass. 

And she keeps staring at you. 

Every time you caught her sparkly eyes, she blushed and looked forward, her freckles surrounded by a deep red that rushed down her neck. She was dressed much less… sophisticated than her mother: her hair tied back in a low bun and littered with black bobby-pins, a dark-blue sweater, rings on her thumb, black pants, and clean Vanz. 

You knew a lesbian when you saw one. You could barely hide your knowing smirk. 

“My child doesn’t need to be exposed to such… nauseating ideologies! Think of the children of the city and what they’re forced to see because of vile people like that,” she pointed at you again. You were this fucking close to stabbing her with that pen in front of you. 

Your daughter’s gay, Mrs. Miller. 

“With all due respect, ma’am,” the judge started. What kind of backwards shit was this; Wasn’t she supposed to be respecting him? “It’s important that we stay on track. You’re specifically suing her for vandalism— “

“Ongoing, unchecked vandalism! This is not her first charge, your honor, it’s her seventh! She’s… she’s— “

You tried to tune her out, looking around the congested space of the courtroom, and you caught eyes—shiny, green eyes— on you. Again. 

She was fiddling with her hands in her lap, her teeth picking at the dry skin on her bottom lip. But she didn’t look away this time. You watched her eyes trail over your face, down to your jaw, your neck, your chest, only to come back up to your eyes. 

You did the same, taking in the dots on her soft cheeks, her eyes, her pretty nose, and mouth, looking her up and down, biting your lip, letting her know you were gauging her. She was cute, you had to admit. 

“—sentenced to three years in federal prison— “

You looked up in shock, feeling like your body had been dunked into a tub of ice water and left to die, instantly stiffening at the announcement of your sentence, the sound of the slamming gavel nearly putting you six feet under. 

You couldn’t do anything but stare at the judge in disbelief as he organized his papers emotionlessly, your lawyer putting his hand on your shoulder. You knocked it off and glared at him. You looked over to the table, the family already up and taking their leave, Mrs. Miller’s hand tightly enclosed around her daughter’s wrist as she dragged her out the wooden doors.

Two security guards were already walking towards you with cuffs, gripping your arms too roughly to pull you up out of your seat and latching the metal around your skin. You started to panic as they walked you towards another set of doors.

“Wait, wait, my backpack, I need my— “

“You aren’t allowed to have anything on you. Your property will be held by the court until further notice.” 

“But— “

“No buts, and don’t resist,” you felt the security grip your arm harder, and your anxiety peaked, your panting breaths hardly leaving your body.

You didn’t resist. You couldn’t. Your life was shattering around you in slow motion, loose shards slicing through you with intent to kill. 

You allowed the brawly men to drag you… anywhere. You didn’t care anymore; You were tired, and no longer had the urge to fight left in your heart. 

Ellie was brought up in isolation. 

Homeschooled, no friends, no purpose outside of being the vessel to represent her family name, creating the next line of heirs for her father’s company. 

The benefits of his successes had simply… appeared when she was fifteen. 

She remembered how he went from being present, gave her the utmost attention, played sports with her, taught her how to sing and self-defense with his past down switchblade, to not, completely cut off from society as he barricaded himself in his study and worked relentlessly on new forms of technology. Being an only child brought nothing but loneliness for her after a while. 

But then they were rich. They moved to an affluent neighborhood and into a two-story house in a matter of months, driving Porches and buying out stores. Wealth appeared, but the relationship with her family suffered because of it. 

Her father fell ill, and after a multitude of hospital visits, teary farewells, and a memorial, he was gone. Merely a memory that hardly seemed real. Her and her mother’s relationship became even more unsteady after his passing. 

Ellie’s mother swiftly took over the company in an almost authoritarian way. She interacted with society in a robotic, rehearsed manner. Mechanical, soulless, the only proof of her humanity exposing itself when she snorted white powder. 

Her mother had brought up the idea of marriage the second she turned eighteen, a year before her father’s passing, saying that there were multiple well-off men that were eager to be with her, willing to give her children. Multiple. 

Men…. children… having children with men. Money. The empire. Her mother.

It all made her nauseous. 

… But art didn’t. 

She’d always kept her journals secret. Left in a box on the highest shelf of her walk-in closet where the maids couldn’t find them.

She expressed everything that she couldn’t to her mother on paper. Her depression, her insomnia, her desire for death, her mourning, the need for sex with non-men, any form of physical connection, something—anything that made her feel human, normal.

She needed a fucking hug. A kiss. Sex. She wanted to fuck.

The first time she saw your artwork on an abandoned building as she chauffeured to the museum, she’d nearly fainted. 

It’d been two women on top of each other, the most intimate parts of their body covered with the other’s hands and skin. One had her head between the other’s legs atop blankets and flowers as the other… apparently in the middle of an orgasm. Her mother always made the point of sex sound so… stiff. Lifeless. Merely a factor of procreation.

But your art was so erotic. Sensual. So full of pleasure and softness and care. 

She’d almost jumped out of the car and onto oncoming traffic to get a closer look at every detail, but the car was too quick. She couldn’t even get a fucking picture. 

And she was soaking. How the fuck was she going to explore a museum when she was dripping like this?! 

You’d given her one of the strongest orgasms she’d ever had in her life when she returned home that day, and she didn’t even know who you were. She’d spent hours with her hand between her legs as she thought of your creation while her mother was out working, moaning and crying out as loud as she wanted, and she wasn’t even embarrassed. 

She would sneak out in the darkest clothes she had when her mother passed out on the couch, and just walk. Specifically in search for anything with your signature that she’d memorized like it was her own. She’d taken pictures of your content, memorized them, got off to the suggestive ones in secret, and appreciated your love and passion for your craft. 

She’d even started recreating her own depictions of eroticism. All with women. They never looked the same: different heights, all skin tones and body types, anything that she could think of, she drew it. She’d tried to envision what you looked like after only a few weeks, and she prayed her envisions were at least somewhat accurate. 

She never could draw self-portraits with precision, but she knew it was her. She was always in the middle of the raunchiness that she conjured up in her mind, being touched everywhere, tied up, beaten, completely ripped apart and forced to forget the suffocating world around her. Her reimagining's of herself would be drowned in pleasure, sometimes by you, by herself, by faceless strangers. Anything she wanted. 

When she saw you for the first time, she almost couldn’t control herself. 

She’d felt like a fucking creep as she ducked behind parked cars to watch you paint all over an abandoned freight train behind a trashed building. The streets had been silent as she watched you decorate the metal cart in floral interpretations of pussy, her heart in her throat. 

You looked gorgeous and focused and tired. So, so tired, only in sweats and a tank top with a hefty bag strapped to your back. She assumed you kept your art supplies in there.

Ellie couldn’t keep her eyes off you when she’d seen you during your court hearing. 

You were just as gorgeous as the first time she saw you, but, somehow, even more exhausted. Far away, not really present, but she couldn’t blame you. And she couldn’t stop staring, enthralled by you. Even in your grayest moments, you made her feel vibrant. And that brought her guilt.

But it also made her lustful. Hungry. 

And she couldn’t stop staring. 

When her mother dragged her out of the hearing, she was enraged, even more so when she degraded you on the way back to the car. 

You fucking stared at that whore the whole time!

Don’t ever, in your life, embarrass me again. 

I’ll throw you in the gutter with that rat if you ever disrespect me like you just did in there. Do you understand?

Ellie didn’t even know what she did to garner a response this aggressive, but she was used to it. And, for the first time in her life, she didn’t care. She didn’t give a fuck. 

At that moment, she knew what she had to do.

It was your fifth day in prison, and you felt nothing. 

You didn’t cry, you didn’t plead, you simply succumbed to your destiny in silence. Your father would be so disappointed if he were alive. 

I raised a fighter, so you fucking fight!

But you couldn’t. You were tired, and you wished you could stay asleep, never to wake up again.

You’ve been working like a dog since you got here, and you accepted it. This was your life, and you felt nothing. 

Until your cell unlocked. These fuckers were probably here to shit talk you again. 

They cuffed your wrists and led you somewhere. You didn’t care where, keeping your head down as they encased your arms in a calloused grasp. You hoped this location would be your last forever. 

They led you into an empty room and uncuffed you. You saw the old sweatsuit that you’d received from the shelter, and your heartbeat sped up. You looked at the security in confusion. What the fuck were they doing? What were they about to do?

You could barely hear what the officers were saying, jumbled words of bail bond and cash payments molding together and sounding like a foreign language to you. They undid your handcuffs and pointed towards the clothes, murmuring for you to change so they could transport you back to the courthouse to retrieve your belongings. 

What the fuck is going on?

When you returned to the shelter, you inspected your bag. After nearly scrubbing your skin off while showering. 

The contents were all in their original condition, each individual item wrapped in plastic with small notes attached to them. Except for your dick. You assumed the court had no comments. 

Your paint, your brushes, random hairpins, your notebooks. They were all there in their original condition. Thank god. 

What you didn’t expect to see was a new jacket, sweatsuit, and small note wrapped in the same plastic from inspection. 

You ripped the plastic open and retrieved the note, unfolding it and… confusion, arousal, and fear rushed through you, shocking your body as all your feelings shot down your spine. 

It was a sketch of… you. And a girl bent over with her hands bound behind her back as you fucked her. An… incredibly familiar looking girl. 

A freckled girl. A rosy-cheeked girl. The rosy-cheeked girl from a week ago with the psychotic, sadistic mother.

Her expression in the sketch was pure ecstasy. It looked like she was screaming, her cheeks shaded dark with water-paint and her hair a reddish-brown, thrown in all sorts of directions. Her eyes wild and erotic. Yearning. Teary. Her pleasure seemed dream-like.

And you looked just as gone. Head tossed back, sweaty with your dick shoved inside her pussy, your nails digging into the soft skin on her hips, small, but deep, bloody scratches following the painful glide of your fingertips that make the red blotches on her backside. There were small doodles of strap-ons and pussies smudged, erased, fixed to perfection that seemed almost manic. Obsessive. 

You looked at the bottom of the crumpled piece of paper, a small signature across the bottom of it. 

♡GIRLDICK♡

Come back home. Five days.

E.M.

… Come back home? You don’t have a fucking home. And who the fuck is E.M? Your heart was beating against your chest, climbing up your throat in an attempt to escape your body entirely. You couldn’t stop your eyes from flying across the sloppy penmanship. 

… ♡GIRLDICK♡

E.M.

M. 

♡GIRLDICK♡

M.

… Miller Enterprise. 

Miller. 

… Freckles. 

…. What in the fuck. 

It was almost dark, and you were shivering as the wind blew past you. 

It had been five days. 

You were eyeing the large building in front of you from across the street, a giant M slapped across the top of it, windows galore, hoodie on your head and trembling hands shoved in your pockets. 

You could see the last bit of employees trickling out of the building, clad in suits and tight pencil skirts, heavy briefcases and clicking heels. 

You could also see the fresh white and black paint covering where your spray-painted dick used to be, and it made you chuckle to yourself. You were almost tempted to recreate it with your new snagged bottle of acrylic. It supposedly glowed in the dark. 

But then you saw a dark shadow in the corner of your eye, hurriedly moving past the glass of the entrance. 

Your heart raced instantly at the thought of being discovered, and you followed the body's movement. You could see it was Ellie the closer she got to the glass, dressed in a black sweater and comfortable pants, and her same shoes from the court hearing. She looked antsy, a bit on edge, but curious. She was anticipating seeing you. 

You could see her messing with the keypad on the door, the loud sounds of locks clicking over the bustling streets. Flashes of red, swiftly replaced with flashes of green shined through the maxi-glass, and she looked around at all the doors. What was she checking for?

She seemed satisfied with her job, and she slid the entry door open, leaving it slightly ajar so she could slip something between it. 

She gave one last glance at the system before bolting back inside and down the lengthy hallway before all the hall lights shut off. 

Did she… did she just disable all the alarms for you? 

Now, you were the one anticipating meeting her. 

You ran across the street the second you got a chance, hurdling through traffic before running up onto the sidewalk and treading the stairs. 

You looked down and noticed two pens taped together, holding the door open. You picked them up and inspected them, a glossy, silver M near the gel tip. 

You stepped inside before anyone noticed, the door automatically shutting behind you before the same green lights came on, a robotic voice confirming that the doors were locked.

You were inside the Miller Enterprise, and you were terrified.

Ellie was so nervous. 

She’d been checking her Chanel watch all day, obsessively monitoring the windows to see if anyone that resembled your form had arrived, but she was disappointed every time she looked. No sign of you, yet.

The later it got, the more anxious she became. Did you see the note she left in your bag? Was it too forward? Did you think she was fucking crazy? Did you hate her for what her mother did? She prayed not. 

She was currently pacing around her mother’s—father’s—dark office, every step of her shoes echoing in the nearly empty room. She hasn’t been in here since she was seventeen, and it brought just as much anxiety as it did the first time. 

This will all be yours when I’m gone, don’t fucking ruin it. 

She hated everything about this space. Every aspect of her dad was completely gone. All his pictures, his vinyl, his pens and pencils, his nameplate. Everything. All of it, completely void of emotion. 

She hated it, she hated it. 

But then she heard a clang in the hallway, and her anxiety picked up even more before she could process it. 

She quickly made her way over to the exit, peeking her head through the doorframe and examining the hallway, searching for you. The noise had to be you! You really came! She could feel her nipples getting hard already.

But she saw no one. No one was in the dark hallway. 

… Fuck.

Why did she shut the system off? The lights wouldn’t come on!

Her hands instantly got clammy, her heart racing, and her knees shook. She hadn't felt like this since she was a kid, and she was horrified.

Someone’s here to hurt you, someone’s going to come in and hurt you!

You never leave doors unlocked! He always said to lock your doors, never, never, never—

She couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts from taking over her entire body, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her father’s switchblade, pressing its latch down to expose the blade. She slammed the door shut and walked over to the large window and tried to steady her breathing. She looked out of the glass and inhaled harshly. 

Keep your grip tight when you strike! 

Calm down calm down calm down—

“Boo.” 

You saw Ellie jump with a hard gasp before spinning to face you, a fearful look on her face and her switchblade in hand, pointed edge towards you. 

You could see her chest rise up and down with every shaky breath she took, her body trembling and cheeks flushed. You felt like your body was going to burst into flames, but you hid it, grinning slyly at her as you stepped forward. 

Deep breath. 

“Hi, Ellie.”

Another step forward. She took two back, nearly pressed against the glass. 

“Y-You,” she stuttered as her eyes darted around nervously, and you could see her cheeks flushing in the darkness, “How’d you get in here?” 

“I think you know how.” 

You shrugged, the contents of your bag shuffling on your back. You pointed towards the large, stretched windows behind her that oversaw the entire city, the hustling streets and lights beaming into the dimly lit room from the last bits of sunset. 

“View’s incredible,” your mockery littered in sarcasm. Don’t let her know you’re scared. 

She took a bold step forward as her brows furrowed, anger twisting on her doll-like face. You took two, as well. You saw her eyes dart to your feet before meeting your gaze to hiss at you.

“There’re cameras on every floor of this fucking building! I press that button,” She darted her small knife towards the enclosed, red button on the side of the wall, a large print of EMERGENCIES ONLY directly above it. “And every cop in this city’ll show up and take your ass back to the fucking gutter where you’re supposed to be.” 

… How the fuck was she going to threaten you when she told you to come here?! What was she playing at?

She pointed her weapon back at you. You ignored your confusion and raised an impressed brow before walking forward without pause, pulling her mother’s chair out from under the desk, the wheels squeaking against the marbled tile. You saw the grip she had on her knife tighten. 

You smiled at her. “You’re pretty good with a knife, honey.” 

“Fuck you. Don’t fucking call me that.”

“I dunno,” you scoffed, twirling on your heels as you took in the luxurious space around you. “I can bet my bottom ass dollar that you like it.” 

Her glare hardened, and your smile brightened. You finally moved to sit in the chair, the plush leather molding against your body and stuffed backpack. You scooted back under the desk and rested your elbows on the hand-carved rosewood, completely calm. At least outwardly. Your insides were jittery from adrenaline. 

You quickly inspected the contents of the desk: her mother’s matching rosewood nameplate, some loose paperwork with large sums of money scattered on them, dark pens and markers, and a signed restraining order. With your name on it. 

You’re apparently not allowed a hundred feet within the perimeter of the building. 

… Funny. 

“Press it.” 

Her scowl hardened, “What?” 

You pointed a lax finger towards the button as you looked up from the document, “I said press it. You want me gone so bad, right?” 

She didn’t reply, her fingers fidgeting around the knife as she adjusted her grip. Her eyes nervously flitted across the room, all over the white floors, back on you. 

“You’re not gonna press the fucking button.” You spat with a devilish smile. “And I know why.” 

“Fuck you, you don’t know sh— “

“You paid my bail.” 

You heard her release a shaky exhale when you sliced through her words, her eyes widening in shock like she saw through you, and you knew you had her. Your smile widened as your nails pattered where you tapped on the desk. 

“Uh huh. Why’d you do it?” 

Her throat moved as she swallowed, and you almost laughed. 

You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out the piece of paper that kept you company in your small cot during your restless nights, unfolding it and holding up the explicit depiction that she left in your bag days ago. You pressed her as you swung the chair with your foot, “Think somebody’s got a little crush. Mommy’s gonna be so upset with you.” 

“FUCK YOU!” She marched towards you until she was in front of the desk, her scent enclosing around you before you felt the incredibly sharp blade against the side of your neck, and you stiffened in terror. You looked at her in shock, studying her expression. She looked pissed, but you saw… something in her eyes that made your core squeeze tight. 

It was vulgar, needy, and you hoped she missed your body’s excited shudder at her crude rage. 

She didn’t. Curiosity shone behind her lust and fiery, her enraged shrieks shook your eardrums. 

“You’re fucking worthless! You really think anyone’s gonna care about you rotting in a fucking cell?! You’re… you’re nothing! You’re a low life! You’re… you’re! —“

You deadened your own eyes as you slowly moved to stand, but she pressed the knife deeper into your skin as she leaned over the desk, your faces closer together. You stiffened and felt a sting on your skin, and a drop of wetness. Your pussy squeezed, and you could feel sweat looking under your jacket. 

“Gonna kill me, Ellie?” You glared at her, your heart pounding with fear and exhilaration. 

Say you want me. Say it, sayitsayitsayit!

Her eyes were vengeful as she scanned your face, but you saw that glint grow behind the harsh overcast. Something you craved just as badly as she did. 

“Really want mommy to see her precious girl killing somebody on camera? Hm?” 

“She,” her breath shuddered. “wouldn’t give a fuck if it were you, I promise.” 

You barely whispered your reply as you leaned even closer, your nipples hardening under your sports bra and your underwear clinging to your wetness. 

“Then do it.”

The heavy breaths she released hit your face in a burning wind, and your core tightened once more. You could see the aggression on her face slowly dissipate, that giddy sparkle in her eye overtaking her pupils as they darkened. 

You felt the cold steel pull away from you slowly, her hand coming down on the desk, — unfortunate— and it threw you into action.

Your hand flew up to her throat and squeezed the sides, and you heard the clatter of the object as it hit the wood. You heard her suck in a choked breath as her eyes glossed over, suddenly desperate and wanton and scared like you’d been seconds before. She looked like a neglected kitten, and it made you hold her neck in tighter constriction. 

She whimpered aloud as she attempted to gasp, her hand coming up to grab your wrist, but you snatched it away with your free hand, and it limply dropped to the desk, her body submitting. 

You leaned in closer to her, and her eyes squeezed shut, lips puckered, silently begging for you to kiss her. You snickered. 

You let her neck go and slammed your palm across her blushing cheek, a loud crack! filling the room. 

She cried aloud, looking like she was about to burst into tears as she jumped off the desk and backed away from you, her hand pressed against her searing cheek. You rose to your feet and circled around the desk, rushing towards her until she was pressed up against the window. Tears were running down her face. You shoved her closer against the glass, grabbing her cheeks to force her to look at you. 

“You’ve been watching me, haven’t you? I got a little fan, is that it?” 

“N-No— “

“Yeah, I do. Fuckin’ stalker. Probably gotta whole shrine t’me in your fucking room. Does mommy know that you worship me? The lowlife who fucked up her building?” You snapped at her.

She flinched at your tone before she choked out a gasped sob, “I j-just liked what you m-made.”

“Stop crying, Ellie.”

She nodded as she sniffled, wiping the tears off her cheeks. You grasp loosened on her cheeks as you cupped her face, your thumb brushing away the wetness on her already bruising skin. You noticed how she leaned into your caress. It made your heart jolt.

“Look at me,” you whispered. 

She hesitantly met your eyes. 

“You wanna kiss me?”

She looked down at her shuffling feet, and you saw her fist clench. 

“Answer me.” 

“Y-Yes, wanna kiss. Just… just one?”

You hummed in satisfaction, inching closer towards her like you did previously. She stiffened but shut her eyes tightly, her plush lips poking out in a pucker once more as your noses touched. You chuckled and whispered, your lips brushing against hers as you spoke. 

“You ever kissed anyone, baby?”

She sighed out an uneven nuh uh, her mouth chasing yours. You grinned wider.

“Oh? M’gonna be your first kiss?” 

She whined out a needy uh huuuh! 

You stuck your tongue out, slowly running the wet muscle over her lower lip, and you felt her whole body tremble against yours. She brainlessly stuck her tongue out to lick yours, but you pulled back. She tried to follow you, but you yanked her head back by the small bun at the back of her head, the soft strands curling around your fist. 

She let out a moan, and your tongue licked up her exposed throat, leaving a trail of spit up her chin, all the way to her mouth. 

You relented and connected your mouths, and she let out a shocked noise into your mouth. You slipped your tongue in her gaping mouth, wet, smacking noises filling the room as you kissed her hotly. She couldn’t keep up with your quick movements, her lips and tongue moving sloppily against yours. Her spit was all over the outside of your mouth. 

You felt her hands come up to your hips to grip your jacket in a tight fist as she moaned into your mouth. 

The noises she let out were so sweet: little, excited gasps and whiny keens as she tried to pull you closer. 

You released her hair and grabbed her chin to move her head to the side. You kissed down her neck, and she jerked against you. Her breaths increased in pace as you pecked her sweaty skin, lapping your tongue all over the side.

You sucked into the skin under her ear, right under her jaw, pulling her sweater down to mark her collarbone. 

“Pleeease, pleaseplease, ah— “

You mumbled in between gentle sucks, “What, Ellie? Talk.” 

You felt her hands grab your hips tighter, but she said nothing. You pushed her hands off you roughly and looked at her with piercing eyes. She shrunk into herself when she met them. 

“When I tell you to do something, you do it. You understand?” 

She nodded quickly. 

“So fucking talk,” you gritted out. 

“Want,” she whispered with a sharp gasp. “Want you.” 

You smirked, “You want me?”

“Mmhm!”

You shoved your backpack off your shoulders, the thud echoing when it hit the floor. 

“Want me to do what?”

She paused before looking down at her feet again, twiddling and picking at her fingers as her face burned red. 

“Um…” 

You rolled your eyes and turned away from her, but you felt her hand grab your wrist and you stopped. You looked at her in annoyance. 

She looked at you tentatively, her breathing shaky. 

But then she slowly brought your hand in between her legs. 

She shivered as she placed her hand on top of yours, making you rub her cunt back and forth. She released pleased sighs as her lashes fluttered, her head falling back against the window as she looked at you up and down. 

“P-Please?” She licked her lips. “Wan’you here.”

You scoffed in shock, and her thighs squeezed down on both your hands. You pressed your palm closer against her, and her hips bucked into you. 

You moved closer to her, your clothed chests pressed together. 

“Move your hand,” you spoke quietly, just for her to hear even though you were alone.

She dropped it limply. You pressed your palm into her covered clit, and she moaned. 

You leaned in, your lips brushing her cheek as you spoke.

“Baby just wanted her pussy touched? That’s why you acted out earlier?”

She didn’t speak as she panted heavily. You brought your hand up to slap her cheek again, and she released a pained cry as her hips twitched. 

“Talk!”

“Yes! Needa… need t’be touched!”

“Tell me where.” You brought your hand back down to her pussy as fresh tears slid down her cheeks. 

She sobbed. “A-Anywhere!”

You leered at her soft face. “Yeah? I get t’choose?” 

She nodded quickly, her eyes screaming touch me, please! Make me cum!

“Open your mouth, honey. Stick your tongue out.”

She mewled softly, but did what you asked, her shiny, pink muscle glistening under the beaming city lights. 

You brought your hand up, rubbing your index and middle finger on her soft tongue. 

“Get ‘em wet.”

She hummed as she sucked them into her mouth with no hesitation. You felt her tongue messily swirl around your digits as she sighed contently, and you pressed an encouraging peck on her cheek. 

You slowly fucked your fingers in, pulling them out, only to push them back in again. You almost awwed aloud when she chased your digits every time you pulled out. She was already drooling for them. 

You pressed her tongue down as you fucked in, and she gagged on them. Her eyes shot open and they instantly watered, her throat tightening around you. 

“Bet you suck a mean dick,” you muttered before you could stop yourself. 

She moaned loudly as you fucked deeper into her mouth, pressing down on the back of her tongue. 

“Oh, yeah? Want mine down that pretty throat?”

She garbled and nodded as much as she could with your fast thrusts in her mouth. You couldn’t wait to fuck it open. 

“Snooped through my shit, didn’t you? Saw my fucking cock and creamed yourself? That’s why you bought me new shit?”

You saw her bring a hand down to touch her pussy, her hips bucking into her own hand, chasing any stimulation. You grabbed her wrist and pulled it away from her. 

You finally eased up on her throat and pulled out completely, lines of slobber connecting your fingers and her mouth together. You cut them with your own tongue, her spit clinging to the edges of your mouth. 

You planted a smacking kiss on her lips before you shoved your hand down her dark, flared pants and into her boxers. 

She squealed when you immediately found her clit with your spit covered fingers, the slippery bud sliding between your already drippy fingers. You watched her hand fly to the white windowsill for balance as your hand went wild on her cunt. 

“Such a wet fucking pussy. Feels good, baby?”

Her brows creased as she nodded, her body rocking with your movements. “A-Ah! —“ 

“Uh huh. You touch yourself like this when mommy’s at work? Hm?”

Her head shamefully jerked in confirmation. You could see her now: her pretty legs spread on her plush bed, her sopping pussy squeezing at the thought of you fucking her just how she needed. She’d be grabbing at her tits as she flicked her clit, desperate to cum all over her blankets for you. Your pussy was so wet. 

“You think about me when you do it?” You knew the answer, but you needed her to say it. Confirm that she thought about you just as much as you thought about her. 

“Yes! Yes, yes!”

“Fucking whore, no wonder she hates your guts.”

She moaned louder at your degradation. “S’c—coming! “

Your fingers were practically vibrating on her cunt, her clit thumping as her orgasm built. “Get my fingers nice’n sloppy, angel, c’mon— “

She reached down to grab your wrist as she jumped on your fingers, but before you could slap her, her body tensed, and her eyes rolled into her skull. You felt her clit pulsate under your touch, and you knew she was cumming.

“Fuckmemommy!”

You couldn’t stop the shock that appeared on your face as you watched her thrash on your hand, gasping out, asking you to please fuck me, mommy! Need you to fuck me!

You just massaged her through it, pressing your hips up against hers so she couldn’t run from your touch. 

“Wan’mommy to fuck you, angel?” you mumbled in your daze as your pussy dripped, your brain barely registering what you just said.

“Yespleasepleaseplease, gimme— “

“Fuck, baby, need mommy inside you?” Your heart was pounding in your ears. 

“M-Mhhm!—“

“Gimme your leg,” You lifted it up with your free hand, bringing it up so it came around your waist.

You slid your fingers down to her twitchy entrance and slipped the tip of your pointer finger inside. You almost moaned at how her walls clung to you, sucking you in deeper, milking you.

“Tightest fuckin’ pussy,” you mumbled to her, and she whimpered when your finger arched inside her. You prodded around until she slumped against you, pushing her hips down on your finger. You leaned in, your lips brushing her ear as you cooed right there? yeah? feels fuckin’ good?

She couldn’t even speak. She just plopped her head onto your shoulder and sloppily kissed your neck. Your cunt clenched and you flinched when her soft tongue licked into the small slit she made earlier. You heard her hum as her tongue swiped a line from your collarbone to your cut; She was licking your blood up like a fucking dog!

It made you punch that spot in her harder, and she cried out against your skin, her nails digging into your forearm. 

You slowly pushed your middle finger in, and she sobbed as she stretched around you. You arched your thumb out to rub her clit as you poked that spongy spot in her pussy; She was so loud for you. 

“Like when I touch you there?” 

“I like it, like it s’much!” You felt her nodding mindlessly against you.

“Gonna cum on me again?” you spat at her. 

“Fuck yes!” 

“Know you’re gonna cum hard, can’t even fuck you like I wanna, squeezing me so tight.”

You dug your fingers as deep and fast into her as her cunt would allow. Her walls were choking the fuck out of you, practically screaming for them to stay where you were pressed inside her. How the fuck was she going to take you fully?!

The thought of breaking her open made you shake, “Gonna make this pussy take me. Can’t wait t’give you this fucking dick.”

Then she started screaming out for you, trying to get you closer, wrapping her arms around you, her leg dropping onto the floor. “Ohgodohgodohgod, m’cumming, mommy, I’mcu—AH!”

You almost fell back when she went limp on you, her knees buckling as her slick coated your fingers, your palm, her panties. You used your weight to push her back against the window, her head thudding against the glass like before, but she seemed too engulfed in her desire to care. You almost brought your hand up to comfort her sore spot, anyway, but you stopped yourself. 

You took her in: practically dangling off you as she wailed from orgasm, her face beat red, the bun at the back of her head almost loose, her eyelids fluttering. You sneered at her, a nasty grin on your face. 

“Atta girl, so excited for cock, ain’t she?”

She could only grind out yesyesyes between her teeth, her fingers still squeezing down on you as you rubbed her clit, her orgasm slowing down. 

“You gotta make me cum first, m’kay?” 

“W’na make… mommy cum!” she nodded like a bobblehead as she slurred. 

“Yeah? Want mommy’s cum in your mouth?”

She wept desperately, “Yes, please, need it!”

You grinned, catching a glimpse of your desperate reflection in the mirror. You’re so glad she was too fucked out to notice.

“C’mon, honey.” 

Ellie stood in front of you as you sat in her mother’s chair, her shoes kicked off. 

Your bag was tossed next to you as you stared at her, noting her fidgeting stance. She wasn’t looking at you, at all. She was looking down, specifically at your occupied hands. 

You’d picked up her discarded knife from the table, inspecting its rusty, scratched design, slightly bloody blade, retraction. You couldn’t stop fiddling with it. 

“W-What’re gonna do with that?” You heard her ask. 

You ignored it. “Where’d you get it?”

“It was my dad’s.” Her voice went sharp. 

“What kinda father lets his baby play with such sharp objects?” You said in between sarcastic snickers. 

“He’s fucking dead, who cares.” 

You finally looked up at her sharp tone, examining her tense face, and your playful smile slowly dropped. She tried to appear as if mentioning it didn’t bother her, but you recognized that look in her eye from anywhere. Grief fucking sucks, no matter how much time passed.

“… Hm.” 

You looked down at the blade again, then back up at her, “He taught you how to… handle it?” 

She shrugged, her brows raising as her arms crossed over her chest. You nodded. 

Your arm was suddenly incredibly itchy. “Mine taught me how to… draw n’stuff.” 

You looked off to the side awkwardly as you reminisced on the first pack of colored pencils he’d bought you. You remembered how particular he was about the art utensils and their conditions. You didn’t realize that he was trying to ensure their quality because he couldn’t afford another pack until you got older.

Always make sure these bastards are sharpened! That’s true precision!

“… Cool,” you heard her say, and you looked at her, “Were you guys, uh, close?” 

“Mhm,” You nodded stiffly, and silence surrounded the two of you. Ellie awkwardly nodded as she stared at the floor, and your lips twitched before you turned to stare out the window.

Some time passed in pure silence before you heard her speak. 

“… Still wanna, uh… D’you still wanna fuck?” 

You looked at her as she fumblingly scratched the back of her head. Her eyes met yours as her ears burned. You grinned as your shoulders rose.

“Up to you.” 

“Like… I still wanna if you do,” She nibbled on her bottom lip. 

You leaned back in her mom’s seat. 

“Ellie.” 

The deep tone of your voice made her look up, her eyes shining like crystals as her arms dropped to her sides. 

“Yes?” 

“… C’mere.” 

She moved, her sock-covered feet padding on the floor until she was in front of you. 

You looked up at her, your hand coming up to play with the hem of her sweater. 

You spoke softly, “Off. C’mon.” 

She grabbed the back of her top and lifted it over her head, her bare chest jiggling with her movements. She tossed the fabric to the floor. 

You eyed her chest like you were going to swallow her whole, her perky nipples urging you to reach out and pull on them. Her pussy is so fucking sensitive; Were her nipples just as bad? Worse? Could she cum just from you touching them? Fuck, she probably could—

“Are they… Do you like them?” 

Her soft whisper cut through your gawking. You met her eyes through your lashes as she squirmed in front of you. 

Your hands came up to grab her hips, massaging them gently. 

“Yeah, baby. They’re so pretty, fit you perfectly.” 

She sighed in content, “T-Thank you.” 

You planted a soft kiss to her tummy as you looked at your thumb around the elastic of her pants to pull them down. 

Her stomach jerked with every sharp breath as your lips moved on her bare skin. You felt her hand come up to your shoulder to grasp it as she stepped out of her pants. 

Your hands traveled upward to grab both her tits in a rough squeeze. She wheezed and arched her back so you could get closer. You heard her murmur a quiet fuckme, and you looked up. She was watching your every move with wide, curious eyes. You held her gaze as you licked up her torso, and she whimpered. 

You brought your hands back down to grab the back of her thighs, moving her closer to your lap. She placed her hands on your shoulders as she climbed on top of you, and you sucked her nipple into your mouth. 

She grinded down onto you and moaned, and your eyes fluttered shut. Your tongue made circular movements on the pert bud, and you hummed at the taste of her soft skin. Her head fell forward as she gasped right in your ear, and it made you suck on her hard. 

Her hips were jerking on top of you, trying to fuck down onto your clothed thigh as her nails plunged into your back. 

“Feels so… mmh!”

You brought your hand back up to her other tit and played with her nipple with your fingers. 

And then you slapped it. Hard. 

She let out a sharp squeak and mindlessly bounced on top of your leg; You could feel a slight dampness building on your jeans, and you scoffed at her, sneering when you pulled away. You hit her other tit just as hard, your spit transferring onto your palm. 

“Ah! Fuckfuckfu— “

Smack!

“Yes!”

SMACK!

She squealed. “M’gonna cum!”

You reached up to slap her face before pulling her hair to the side with a tight fist. 

You quickly grabbed her switchblade off the desk and unlatched the blade, the sharp edge popping up. You instantly pressed it to her neck, and she choked on a ragged pant. 

The lust in her eyes was accompanied by fear, and you grinned. 

“Don’t get scared now. You were waving it around earlier. So ready to fight, huh?” 

She shuddered, rutting down on your leg again, and you pressed the sharp edge into her skin harder. Her eyes shut tight, and two fat tears fell down her cheeks. She nearly bounced on you. 

“I could fuck you up right here, you know that, right?” 

“Please, mommy, needa cu—!”

You moved the knife away and released her hair, slapping her in the face again. “Shut the fuck up, you nearly slit my fuckin’ throat and now you wanna fuck. I should leave right now, fucking brat.”

She sobbed, “Nonono, please don’t leave, mommy don’t go, m’sorryI’m— “

“Mommy, don’t go!” you mocked. “Get on your fuckin’ knees.” 

You kept the blade pressed against her jugular as she clumsily shuffled to the floor, her cries shaking her body. 

“You wanna apologize?” She nodded jerkily, minding the silver edge on her vein.

“Yeah? Wanna make mommy feel better?” You said with a mean pout. 

“Mhm!”

You sloppily kicked your boots off and shoved them under the desk. 

“Take m’pants off, baby. C’mon.”

She moved quickly, unbuttoning and tugging your jeans and underwear down your legs as she sniffled. She yanked them off with a hard tug, and her eagerness made you giggle as you lifted your hips. You unzipped your jacket and pulled it off your shoulders, tossing it to the floor, leaving you in your black tank top. You could’ve sworn you saw a glimpse of a grin on her face as she eyed your breasts before she dived towards your cunt. 

You shoved the knife closer against her, and you saw blood pool at the edge of the blade. She looked up at you with an anxious expression. 

“I didn’t say you could touch me. Ask nicely.” 

She looked confused as she mumbled brokenly, “Ask you what?”

Your brows furrowed at her, “My mistake. You probably never had to ask for shit in your life.” 

Her bruised cheeks glowed red as she looked down in embarrassment. 

You grinned slyly. “Say, mommy, may I eat your pussy, please?” 

Shock overtook her expression before she rolled her eyes at you and looked to the side.

“You’re fucking cra— “

You yanked her dark hair back and pointed the end of the blade against her bruised jaw. Her ragged breaths hit your face.

“Say it.” 

“Y-You're not gonna hurt me,” she stated unsteadily. 

“You don’t know shit about me, and even if I did hurt you, you’d want it. Admit it.” 

She avoided your gaze and her lips quivered. 

You continued. “You’d let me do anything I want because you’re disgusting. A filthy fucking slut with a silver spoon in her mouth.”

You huffed at her with a frown. “And you like girls. You’d be just as worthless as I am in her eyes if she found out.” 

You nodded over to her mother’s nameplate, and her eyes shut like she was a child getting scolded for stealing candy at the store. 

“I’m right, baby? You don’t want a husband? Don’t wanna get bred for the empire like she wants?”

She shamefully shook her head as tears fell down her face. You didn’t even know if she was in that circumstance or not, but by her reaction, it seemed to cut her deep. You ignored the searing pain in your chest.

“Mhm, so,” you turned her head so she could look at you, her red eyes burning through yours. “Something you wanna ask me?” 

Her mouth dropped open in submission.

“M-Mommy, may I… May I eat your pussy, please?” 

You smiled in satisfaction, placing a gentle kiss on her wet forehead. 

“Yes, baby, you may.” 

You pulled the knife away from her and set it on the desk, grabbing her chin to plant a kiss to her mouth. She whined happily into yours. 

You pulled back and adjusted your position, leaning back with your legs spread, the underside of your knees hooked into the armrests of the seat, your cunt on full display for her. Your sopping pussy was right next to her face, and you saw her eyes flutter in delight. 

“Want me t’show you how?” 

She nodded intensely. 

You brushed away the flyaway hairs on her forehead, your hand planted on the back of her head. 

“Spit on my clit, babe. Get it nice n’wet.” 

She released a glob of spit right onto your pulsing bud,

and you sighed as it dribbled down to your hole. You tilted her head back, remnants of slobber collecting on her chin. You gathered spit in your mouth and pulled her lower lip down, her mouth falling open. You spat onto her tongue, and she moaned, tilting her head down to spit it out all over your pussy. You bit your lip so hard; you almost drew blood.

You reached down and spread your lips, your throbbing clit poking through. You could see her trembling as she eyed you. 

“Wanna taste, Ellie?”

“Yeah, please, mommy,” she choked out. 

“Lick me, then, honey.” 

She wasted no time, the tip of her tongue circling around the nub instantly. Your mouth fell open at the sensation. The pink muscle was so soft, the licks slow and gentle, barely there. 

“Doing so good, baby, take your time,” you sighed out. 

She keened at your praise; her lashes flitted like butterfly wings in Spring as she rubbed your clit in deep licks. 

“Fuck, Ellie, s’so sensitive,” she whined against you, eyes begging for your approval as she watched your expression. You caressed her burning cheek with your pointer finger, and she licked deeper.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it, making me so happy,” her eyes rolled shut as she tongued you, sliding her tongue all over your pussy in slow strokes. 

You moaned out every time she came up to lap at your clit. You guided her head down to your hole, and her tongue slipped inside, slurping up all your slick. You were gasping her name out as her tongue wiggled inside you, swirling all over your walls. 

“Such a good girl, fuck, El!” you groaned out as wet sounds filled the room. “Wanna make mommy cum?”

She hummed excitedly and nodded, her tongue moving back up to massage your clit. You tightened her grip on her head, forcing it to move back and forth her hums shaking your clit. 

She moved her head faster against you when she sucked your clit into her mouth, and your head fell back against the chair as your eyes rolled back. Your thighs were shaking, toes curled as you squealed out encouragement. You needed to cum, she was going to make you cum!

“Get me there, pretty, m’— gonna make me fuckin’ cum— “

“Wan’mommy’s cum, please?” she sloppily murmured against you. 

“Gonna get it, baby, m’right there! —“

She was fully moaning all over your clit, “Gonna fuck you so good, angel, fuck yes!”

You peeled your eyes open and looked back down at her when she released your clit to moan aloud. Her drool and your pussy juice were all over her pink lips as she sighed and whimpered in pleasure. You couldn’t see what she was doing, but her forearm was moving frantically as quiet shhlcks filled the room. 

“Ellie.”

“Mommym’gonnacum— “

“I swear to g— “

“S’so wet, oh god, please!” 

SMACK!

Her head flew onto your thigh at your hard slap to her face, and she screamed out as her body tensed up. You watched her with a scowl as she squealed out m’cummimgsohardmommy against your skin, a puddle of drool forming on your skin. 

You yanked her hand out of her boxers, and she whined in protest as her orgasmed died, her hips bucking back into the air. You stood up, pulling her up by her waist and bending her over the desk, holding her down by her neck. 

“Stop fucking with me, Ellie.” You pulled her boxers down under her ass, taking in the sight of her still pulsating cunt and her twitchy ass. 

She spat at you over her shoulder, “Or wha— “

SMACK!

She groaned out in pain against the wood when your hand connected with her asscheek in a fiery slap, your hand burning. 

“Motherfuc— “

SMACK! 

You hit her and hit her. And hit her again. And again. Until she was jerking away from you, her hips bucking against the desk and your handprints covering her ass in a cherry-red tint. 

You don’t even remember how many times you slapped her, but she was sobbing out apologies against the desk, asking for your forgiveness over her tears.

“You done fucking around?” Your hand felt like it was in flames when you dropped it on the desk.

“Yesyes, mommy, I won’t—sob— won’t fuck up again!” 

“I was actually gonna eat your pussy out,” you scoffed out nastily, and she only cried harder at the insinuation that you weren’t anymore. “You don’t want that, you don’t want me fucking nice.” 

You pulled away and walked towards your discarded

bag on the floor, digging through it and pulling your dick out, stepping into and adjusting the straps as you watched her bruised ass jiggle with each wail. 

Your dick stood up as you walked back over to her. You gave her one last hard slap on her marked ass and pulled her up by her arm, shoving her onto her knees in front of you so she was trapped between you and the desk. 

You could see her wiping away tears, but you grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at you. 

“You want dick so bad? Get it wet so I can fuck you.” 

Shock appeared on her face.

“Y-You’re gonna fuck me with that?” You watched her inspect the size of you. The length, the girth, all the ridges. Her breathing got heavier the longer she stared.

“Now you’re fucking scared, really, Ellie?”

“I’m not sca— “

“Talk back again, and I’m leaving. You’re getting on my fucking nerves.” 

She glared at you, but looked down, straight at your tip, then back at you. 

And then she spit on it, a fat glob of saliva dribbling down the sides of your cock. Her hand came up to wrap around the base, rubbing her spit into the silicone. She held eye contact with you as she stuck her tongue out. You reached down and placed your hand on top of hers, slapping your tip on her slobbery muscle. 

“Good fucking whore, good n’sloppy,” you let go to pat her still-red cheek with a heavy hand, and her pretty eyes hardened, her blush deepening. She dropped her mouth open, her lips curling on the tip as she sucked on it. You bit your lip as you watched her tongue swirl around you.

She moaned around the silicone, her eyes filthy. Her hand spread her spit up all over you as she took in your inches slowly, jerking you off and slobbering on you at the same time. She looked like a fucking pornstar, like she practiced for this, like she wanted to impress you, and you shook like you could actually feel her mouth. Your pussy was desperate to cum, but you pushed it aside and watched her. 

She released you with a wet pop, her tongue flicking around your tip like she was lapping at your cum, and you couldn’t stop the moan that left your mouth. 

“Nasty slut, goddamn— “

She smiled like you just called her the prettiest girl in the world before sucking you back in, her head bobbing up and down as she slurped you up. There was so much spit on your length that it started dripping onto the floor.

You bucked forward, your hips moving on autopilot, and she choked on you, her hand coming up to your thigh to squeeze it. You ignored her grasp and fucked into her mouth harder, pinning both her arms above her head on the desk. She gargled around your dick, and you could only imagine the tightness of her throat with each gag. 

“What, baby? Don’t like it? Want me t’stop?” You gritted out. And you thrusted deeper. She moaned and her mouth opened wider.

She was making wet noises around you, her head thudding against the top drawer of the desk when you fucked in. You fucked your entire cock down her throat, and she gagged hard. 

You pulled out and let her go.

She fell forward and coughed hard, her drool pooling down on the eggshell floors as she choked. You watched in irritation as she heaved.

“Get up,” her gasps slowed as she breathed in deeply, and she lifted her head to glare at you from her hunched position. 

“Get up.” 

“Fuck you,” she spluttered.

“I’m gonna. Get up.”

Despite her bitterness, she slowly stood and instantly bent over the desk with her scarred ass poked out towards you. You chuckled when you saw both her holes pulse in excitement.

“That’s how it is?” you slapped her asscheek, and her hips bucked back against your hand. 

“Uh huh,” you heard her crackly mumble dazedly. “Need you t’make me cum.”

“Seemed alright doing it yourself a few minutes ago.”

She ignored you, and you smirked, “Need your cock, mommy, pleeease, please— “

You reached out, running two fingers over her drenched slit, and she pressed back on them as she sighed in pleasure. You slowly slid your fingers down to her clit, and she moaned aloud, her thighs jerking. 

“Look at this fucking pussy, jesus.” 

“I-It’s pretty?”

“Yeah, baby, fuck,” your mouth watered when you saw her walls clench. “Can’t even be mad, you’re so fucking hot.”

“Then fuck me,” she whined out sweetly, looking at you over her shoulder. 

You leaned down until you were eye level with her pussy, her walls squelching and squeezing repeatedly. You bit your lip and kitty-licked her cunt, her slick painting your taste buds as her smell surrounded you, and she jumped at the feeling. 

“Taste like fucking honey.” 

“So do you, made me so wet,” she exhaled as she shivered in anticipation. 

“S’gonna hurt,” you whispered, more to yourself as you eyed her tightness. 

“Don’t care.” She pushed back on your face.

“Put your hands behind your back. Don’t move them.” 

She shuddered and obeyed instantly, her hands overlapping at the wrists at the small of her back. 

You pressed one last kiss to her pussy before standing upright, “You move your hands, I stop.”

“Not gonna move, mommy,” she whispered in between unsteady breaths. “Make me feel good, please. Please, please.”

“Shh. Got you, baby. Open your legs,” you caressed her back and she squirmed. You felt goosebumps rise all over her skin, and you smirked.

The gap between her thighs widened even more for you, her cunt on full display. You could hear her beckoning you to pop the tip inside her in tiny, desperate whispers, and it made your core clench. 

You inched closer to her until the back of her thighs pressed against the front of yours. You wrapped a hand around your wet dick and brought it up to her slit, soaking it in her gooey slick and sliding it between her silky lips. Her cunt was already soaking your entire length and you didn’t even fuck her yet. She was subtly pushing back on you, trying to get you inside her. 

You heard the enthusiasm in her voice when she keened, “Mommy, please, it’s right there!”

“Mhm, I know, I see it,” you mumbled wetly, her gooey cunt looked so pretty under the light of the city, shining like glitter.

“Making mommy so wet baby, such a pretty girl,” you brought your cock back up to her slit and pushed forward, slowly popping the tip in her snug opening. She squealed loudly, and you saw her fists clench at the end of her spine as her walls clung to you, pulling you in.

“Yesyesyes, oh god, mommy, fuck, uh huh!”

“Yeah, baby? It hurts?” 

“Nooo, feels s’good, oh shit! —“

You slowly pushed in another inch, gauging her reaction for any discomfort, your thumb moving on her hip softly. She tried to push back to take you deeper, but you held her hips down.

“Fuck mefuckmefuckme— “

“Gonna be my good girl, baby? Gonna take it nice’n deep?” 

“Yeah, mommy!”

You pushed in even deeper, and you could feel the resistance of her cunt the more you slid in. You couldn’t stop the moan you released when she said your name. 

“Y-You’re splitting me open, ffuck— “

You pressed in the last bit of your dick, her ass resting at the top of your thighs, your hands propping you up on the desk as you leaned above her, placed on either side of her head. She was sighing heavily in satisfaction, and you could see her glossy eyes rolling. 

“Feelin’ good?”

She nodded slowly, “U-Use me, mommy, please use me t’cum, fuck.”

“Gotta take care of my girl first,” you fucked out of her slowly before snapping your hips, fucking all your inches back into her, and she screamed. “Such a tight pussy.”

You bent down to kiss her pretty back, down her spine as you stroked her deeply. You’d barely completed your fourth stroke before you felt Ellie tense up under you, her body shuddering as she moaned quietly to herself. You snickered at her. 

“Baby’s cumming?” you licked up her spine again. 

You could only see her nod in jerky headshakes from where you stood, her cheek pressed against the desk. You looked down at where you were connected, and you could see how her walls struggled to choke your dick. You grabbed her wrists in one hand and fucked her through her orgasm, your free hand sneaking under her hips to rub her clit. 

The second her body relaxed, you saw the muscles in her back flex again, the arch in her back deepening, “Mommy, think—m’cumming again, oh god, motherfu— “

“How many are you gonna give me, angel?” you rubbed her clit faster, fucking in harder. 

“I feel it, I feel it, fuck!” She wasn’t listening to anything you were saying as she yelled in her pleasure. You could see how much she was wetting your cock, lines of her slick forming every time you pulled out of her. You angled your hips downward when you fucked back in, and she shouted your name out, her warnings of her orgasm echoing in your ears. You released her clit and pinned her down by her neck again. 

“Like it right there, baby? That’s the spot?” You could feel your core squeezing with every cry she let out, her voice completely broken, her squeals scratchy. 

She was babbling about something, but you weren’t listening, the squelchy sounds of her cunt increasing in volumes as you forced your dick in her, stirring her guts up. 

You looked down and saw her ass squeezing with every quiver of her cunt, and you licked your lips. You let her wrists go and brought a hand to your mouth, sucking your thumb in to wet it before rubbing her ass with it. 

She let out a loud slew of ah ah ahs before you felt a burst of wetness on your thighs, dripping down onto the floor. Her entire body was jerking back onto your, her rosy ass jiggling every time she hit your hips. 

But then you heard a slam above her shouts of pleasure and mommy!

You looked up to check on her unsteady form as she continued to drench your lap, her hand resting on the back of her mother’s nameplate, her fingertips digging into the wood as she screamed in her euphoria. 

It made you fuck her harder and pull her hand away from the dog tag. You didn’t even care about punishing her anymore, you needed to cum. You’d been riding that edge since you got here, and you knew you were going to cum so hard.

You leaned over her body and grinded into her, moving her hand away from the plate and sitting back up in its position. You grabbed her by her spit-coated chin so she could look dead at her mother’s name. She whimpered and tried to look away from it, but you tightened the grip on her face to keep her still. 

“Look at it, baby— “

She sobbed, murmuring how hard she was about to cum again, her eyes fluttering as she stared at it, her cheeks glowing like apples.

You bent down to her ear, “You embarrassed, angel? Huh? Wanna close your eyes? Gonna squirt on me again?”

She was looking dead at the plate, “You’re so deep, mommy, fuck yes, m’gonna!—“

“Nasty fucking slut, taking it so good,” You looked up at the clear window as your thrusts picked up pace again, the entire city shining through the glass in all its glory. Every light of every building, people roaming, honking, noises of construction. It was all beneath you, and it was all theirs. The strap was bumping on your clit with each thrust. 

“Look at your city, baby,” you lifted her weightless head by her wild, knotted hair and made her look into the distance as you groaned in pleasure. “Gonna be all yours one day, can do whatever you want with it soon.”

“Fuuuck— “

“Uh huh, you like having that power? You can get whatever the fuck you want— “

“M-Mommy!”

“Just need a baby, right? Gonna g-give her what she wants? Gonna give her that precious heir, that golden child?”

“Yesyesyes! Wan’your baby, ge’me fucking pregnant!”

You moaned at her begging as you babbled mindlessly to her, “Gonna cum in you, fuck, need it… t’catch— “

She was screaming about how your seed was going to catch in her womb, how hard she was going to squirt again, begging you to fuck her harder, hurt her, make her bleed, make her scream. You could feel your senses leaving as your orgasm built as she pushed back on you, and you moaned her name in her ear. 

“Fuuuck, Ellie,” your clit jerked, and you let her go, her head falling onto her arm in front of her as she yelled in euphoria. “Gonna make that bitch raise my fuckin’ kid while I’m gone? Huh?”

She didn’t even react to your slip of your departure, “Yeahyesyesyes! Fuck, I’m cumming!”

You felt another spray of liquid drip down your legs as you drilled her, and it triggered your own orgasm. Your clit jerked as your release rushed through you, your walls clenching as your body shook on top of hers, grinding against her to ride it out. You could almost feel the sensation of filling her up, her cunt sucking your cum deep inside her. 

She was still moaning above you, wringing the last bits of her orgasm out on your cock. You whined against her sweaty skin, the aftershocks moving through you. 

You felt her go completely lax underneath you, heavy sighs leaving her parted lips. 

You both caught your breaths in soothing silence. 

After Ellie asked you to show her how to kiss properly, the pounding of your heart refused to slow down. 

You were seated in her mother’s chair once more, her wetness still coating you in stickiness as she straddled your lap, her arms around your neck as she gazed at you nervously.

“We just fucked, why do you look like that?”

Her brows creased, “Like what?”

“Like you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” she whispered, her eyes flickering down to your lips before looking back up at you. 

You only hummed at her, brushing your noses together before leaning forward, grabbing the back of her neck to pull her down to you. Her eyes shut tightly, and her lips puckered in front of yours, and you pulled back, grabbing her face to stop her.

“Stop doing that, just relax.” 

“… What’d I do?”

You mimicked her, poking your lips out stiffly before breaking out into a grin. She huffed with a tiny smile, shaking her head, “Sorry.”

You shrugged, uncaring. She looked down, “Where do I put my tongue?” 

You snorted, “Nowhere yet.”

You craned your neck up slowly and connected your mouth with hers gently, your lips molding against hers. She sighed and leaned closer into you, her arms tightening around the back of your neck. You felt a sharp sting in your chest at her delicate touch, and you pulled away. A soft smack filled the room when you separated. She smiled softly, “That was cute.” 

You nodded stiffly, murmuring a mhm, before looking down. Out the window. Behind her. Anywhere but her eyes. 

You felt her nuzzle against your cheek, kissing it gently, “Are we… uh, fucking again?” 

“You want to?” The pounding in your ears was giving you a headache. 

You felt her nod. Another kiss to your cheek. Another pull in your heart. 

Your hands planted on her hips, lifting them so she could sit on you, but she grabbed your wrists to stop you. 

Her hands latched onto the hem of your shirt, attempting to pull it up and over your head, but your hand caught her wrist. Not harshly, but stern.

Her eyes softened at your masked expression, releasing the gentle grip on your shirt, “I’m, uh… I’m sorr— “

“It’s fine. Ready?” you grabbed the base of your dick in your hand, and she mumbled a quiet yes. 

You felt her hand come on top of yours as she helped you guide it to her entrance, and your breath shook as you exhaled.

Her hips came down on you at her own pace, your free hand resting on her hip. She gasped when it slipped inside, her hands coming to support herself on each armrest. 

“Feels different like this,” she whispered huskily.

You smirked, “I know, take your time.” 

She nodded, slowly sinking down on you. You saw her eyelids get heavy as her walls caught on every ridge of you, her head falling back in her pleasure. Her soft locks disheveled all over her head, her bun nonexistent as her bobby pins stuck out from every direction. 

She slid in too deep, though. She let out a pained gasp as she caught herself on the chair, her brows furrowing. 

“Okay?” you checked in.

She nodded, her lip in between her teeth, “So deep like this, fuck… don’t know if I can go all the way down.”

“It’s fine, babe, make yourself feel good.” 

“H-Help me?” her breathing was picking up as her hips bucked. 

Your other hand flew to her hips, digging into her soft skin as you guided her hips on you. You eased her into a deep grind, and her hands flew behind you, landing on the headrest behind you. 

Her head rested in the crook of your neck as she followed your movements, her wet moans hitting the side of your neck. The sensation of her breath on your skin made your pussy clench. 

“Am I—gasp—doing good, m-mommy?” 

“Fucking me so good, baby, shit,” you whispered in her ear, and she moaned aloud in yours. She sped up on you, the harness digging into your clit with each swivel of her hips. 

Your hands moved down to grab her ass, spreading her cheeks before slapping them, grabbing the plush of them in your hands. She fucked you harder, and you felt her spit drip on your neck as she wailed into your skin. You threw your head back on the headrest when she sucked on your neck, right on your open scar.

She lifted her head up and looked at you with gentle eyes, her hands moving down from the headrest to grab your cheeks in a soft touch. She was panting on your mouth, her lips brushing against yours with every jump on you. She was so close and she smelled so good, her lips soft. 

She whispered dreamily, “Can’t stop cumming— “

Your eyelids fluttered, “Then don’t. Give it to me, m’so close— “

She grinded harder as she leaned down to connect your lips in a honey-sweet kiss. You reciprocated against your brain's desires. 

Push her away. She’ll never be yours! This is all she wants from you!

Tears built in your eyes as your peak approached, her moans increasing in urgency against your mouth. You sucked on her bottom lip, biting it hard. This is the most eager you’ve felt since you touched her. 

“Cum with me, pleasepleaseplease— “

“I’m gonna, baby, fuck me hard!”

She was going crazy on your dick, full-on bouncing on you, taking it all despite her protests earlier, and you felt yourself tipping. Your pussy squeezed and soaked the harness as your orgasm pulled in your gut. You looked down at your cock, and it was drenched in her white, sticky substance. She was creaming all over your cock as she used you. It made your eyes cross in your skull as your euphoria hit you. 

You were so loud as your nails tore into her skin, your moans matching hers in volume. You felt another splash of fluid on you, and you came harder, another wave crashing through you. You would’ve curled in on yourself if she wasn’t on top of you. 

You felt her tongue slide into your hungry mouth, swirling around yours as you shouted through your high. She was making you feel so good, and you couldn’t fucking think. 

You felt like you were cumming for minutes before the harsh pulses slowed into soft twitches, her hips slowing, and she bent down to kiss you. The touch was soft, sweet, undeserved. You stiffened, on guard immediately. 

She was close, she was too close. Her soft caresses on your face snapped you out of your intoxication, pulling away from her mouth and grabbing her hips to pull her off your dick. 

“T-Turn around, Ellie.”

“Huh?” she asked softly, her eyes teary and delicate. 

“T-Turn around,” your voice trembled.

“O-Okay.”

She was too fucking close. 

She lifted off you, planting her feet on the ground and you spun her. You pulled her down on your lap, her ass in front of your cock. You grabbed your tip, pushing it past her entrance, and she mewled. She took it with ease, mewling out as her back arched into you, swallowing you whole as she sunk down again. 

She planted her hands on your knees and immediately bounced on you, her toned ass meeting the base of your harness with every jump on your cock. 

You could see her pussy suck on your inches, suffocating your girth, her walls clinging to you. 

You grabbed her neck and pushed her forward slightly, and she cried out in painful pleasure. You planted your feet on the floor and fucked up into her. 

“Fuck! Your dick feels so fucking good! Oh my—agh!”

You saw even move cream spread over your dick with every fuck inside her squishy walls. You were moaning with her, fucking her harder, faster, the hand on her neck moving up to pull her hair hard. The sound of wet skin slapping accompanied the sounds you both made in your pleasured state. 

You were going to cum so fucking quick, “Fuck, Ellie, shit— “

“I’m gonna cum so hard, mommy!” your hand in her hair flew down to her hip, grinding her down harder on you. You moaned at the feeling.

“Yeah? Already?” You were right behind her, those euphoric waves pulling in your gut.

“Fuck—fuckyes!”

“Want it so bad, get it all over this fucking dick, baby— “

Her hand that'd been playing with her tits flew down on top of yours on her waist, her fingers lacing with yours tightly as she shouted, screaming your name. She met your harsh thrusts as she bounced, and she squirted on you again, and you watched it gush out of her, wetting your stomach and harness and the chair beneath her, the sound of splattering liquid on the floor making you cum the hardest you ever had. Your vision whitened as your orgasm crushed you. 

She kept cumming on you, and you kept cumming for her. The pleasure didn’t stop, and all you could do was scream her name out like she did yours, hold her hand tighter as your brain melted. She rocked back and forth on you, prolonging your orgasm, making you cum harder. It just kept building in intensity, the aggressive pulses wracking through you, your toes curling as she milked you, and all you could do was take it.

You blacked out in her mom’s chair, the last thing you remember seeing was her pulsing, squirting pussy, pulsing ass, and the auburn stars that painted her entire back. 

Some time passed, your lashes fluttering open as you felt soft touches on your face. 

You were met with delicate, green eyes, Ellie looking at you with a softness you hadn’t seen in years. It felt foreign, deep, and it made your heart pick up in panic. 

You pulled away from her touches and looked around unsteadily. 

She was too close. Too fucking close.

The office was a mess: clothes everywhere, the floor was soaked, the whole room smelled like sex and pussy, desk askew, its contents thrown everywhere, Ellie’s tears and puddles of spit all over the surface. You could even see splatters of… her on her mother’s restraining order against you. 

You were suddenly terrified, moving into action and guiding her off your lap so you could stand. You undid the straps of your dick and stepped out of it, cringing at the drying stickiness, and throwing it into your backpack.

You heard her speak from behind you, “Hey, hey, you okay? What’s wr— ‘

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m fine, I gotta go,” you said tensely. Unwelcoming. Guarded.

“Did… did I do something?” She sounded too soft, too gentle. 

“No, Ellie, I just, I gotta go,” You dressed erratically, pulling your underwear up and jeans on, wincing at your cum sticking to your garments. 

You could hear the crack in her voice, “Can I… do you need help or— “

“Ellie, I’m fucking fine. I’m fine, okay? Forget it.” You spat over your shoulder as you repacked. Don’t look at her, don’t fucking look at her. 

She sounded just as anxious as you did, “W-Why are you so upset with me all of a sudden? What’d I do— “

“You didn't do shit! Can you fucking drop it please!”

Her breath shuddered, “I thought… I thought we were… okay?” 

You whipped around to face her, an incredulous look on your face. Your heart shattered when she flinched, but you yelled at her anyway. Why the hell did you look at her?

“Why the fuck would we be okay?! Did you forget how we fucking met in the first place!” You pointed behind her to the soiled court order, “We’re never going to be fucking okay! Get that through your fucking head.” 

You reached down to grab your heavy bag, throwing it over your shoulder in a hurry. You felt like you were going to suffocate. You needed to go. Right now. You turned towards the door. You hadn’t even shut it all the way when you came in. 

“I’m never going to see you again, am I?” 

Your own tears fell at the dejected acceptance in her voice. She sounded so broken, and it was all your fault. 

But you knew this was for the best. The two of you could never exist together in bliss, even though meeting her was the most human you’ve felt since you were a child. Since your father was alive. 

But you were too different, too damaged. All you would do is hurt each other, you would resent each other, grow to hate, to regret. The world was too cruel, and she was not prepared for its harshness. You were barely prepared, and you lived it every day. And you promised yourself to never go through the despair of loss again. You walked towards the door and heard her release a quiet sob. 

“No,” you pulled the knob, the spacious hallway being another reminder that you didn’t belong. Not here, not anywhere. Her mother was right. 

You were worthless. Held no value in this society. 

In another life, you could’ve been something great. Your cards could’ve been different, better. You could’ve made your father proud. The two of you could’ve been happy.

“You won’t.” 

You left the same way you came, moving in urgency before her sobs lured you back to take her in your arms, against your will. 

Maybe in another life. 

hi lol OOOOOOWEEEEE 

this was heavy sorry gworlies i love sad shit 

don’t hate me too much? 

omg tell me what y’all thought or whatever *looks away shyly 

thank u 4 reading if u did :3

hi taglist love yall @cherriessxinthespring @ellieswifee @elliespookie @belovednanami @sevikasimp @saturnsellie

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

I'm really sick and Satan's sacrificial waterfall is here AT THE SAME TIME!

I don't know if you do blurbs or headcannons, but if so, would you be willing to write for the boys (either taskforce 141, or singular characters,) taking care of an afab reader who has never had anyone wanting to take care of them?

If not, sorry to bother!

I don't typically take requests but... since I'm in the same boat (sacrificial waterfall is probably going to come over the weekend for me), I'll 100% do it.

A while back I also posted this: "You're feeling ill" and it's also along the same vein, if you'd like an extra little pick me up.

Period woes.

Rating: G Words: 1K~ tags: afab!reader but you/your pronouns, SFW!, fluff, comfort, periods and associated symptoms.

A person’s period might be the most hypocritical moment of their routine. They’re expected to continue moving, working and living their live as normal, all with a smile on their face, while their uterus actively attempts to cut off its own circulation… as if for any other injury or sickness you wouldn’t be expected to lay down and STOP for a moment and allow yourself to heal up, or at least improve enough to not be miserable.

But no. You’re expected to deal with it alone, to not show a reaction, to not be irritable, or groaning and writhing in pain. Take a shower, stock up on painkillers and slap a smile on your face, you’ve gotta go out in the world and act as if you’re not actively dreading every waking moment you spend on your feet.

That’s why you’ve learned to hide it when you’re going through your monthly. Your family, partners… not even your girlfriends know when you’re having it. Ever since you were a young teen, just starting out, it was very much a conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know, sort of moment.

But it’s miserable. You’re always miserable. Everything hurts, the cramps, the headaches, the back pain, hip pain, your sore chest… Plus the blood, the lack of appetite (or increase in appetite), the nausea, the fact you want to cry one moment, or break dishes and scream the next, the way your colleagues annoy you beyond compare, how certain sounds grit your nerves just. enough. to make you feel like you’re losing it… And then you can’t sleep.

And of course… he notices it. How could he not?

Ghost is discreet about it. He doesn’t mention it, doesn’t make a big deal about it… But he’s VERY good at taking care of you without you noticing he’s doing it. His love language is acts of service… So he simply goes around giving you a hand on whatever you might need. Food? Made. Dishes? Done. Laundry? Washed, Dried, Folded and Put Away. He finds you trying to do something? No. Give it here, he’ll do it.

The inevitable day that a leak happens and you find yourself angry at yourself as you strip the bedsheets off the bed, trying to be discreet about it so he doesn’t see it, he silently grabs the sheets off your hands and murmurs a “Go take a shower and change. I’ve got this.” before turning to put the sheets in the washer, clean the mattress and remake the bed so you can lay down again by the time your shower is over. It makes you emotional, sometimes, that such a stoic man will gladly take on every other responsibility to allow you to heal.

Gaz, blessed be him, is an absolute sweetheart… But he’s also a silly boy. He notices and although he’s not going to make a big deal about it, he’s still very… Boyish about it. Uses all the silly names for your period (“The Communists are coming”, “Shark week”,  “Satan’s waterfall”, “Carrie”) and affectionately calls you “My little ketchup packet”. 

He’s all for ordering takeout and getting you whatever you want when and how you want it. He’ll rub your back and be very careful about where and how he touches you. He’s ginger with touches around your waist and lower stomach, looks at you with those big brown eyes of his, as if checking that he’s not hurting you or crossing a boundary. You find yourself getting emotional when he whispers about how strong you are to deal with this every month… Keeps asking gently if you need anything… It makes you feel so safe.

Price’s older. He’s been in many relationships before. He notices your period is coming before it even does… Notices how you’re acting. Jumpier, grumpier, sadder… Notices how you toss and turn the couple of nights leading up to it. And he’s silently prepared. He’s made a supply run to the grocery store to get what brand of period products you use and some painkillers and puts them where you can see them in the bathroom. 

Fills you up with warm herbal tea and food that he knows are easy to digest and help with your state. No fucking chocolate and sugar or potato chips, you’re being pumped full of soups and stews and veggies and cut up fruit. He’ll sit by your side with a paring knife and an apple and slowly peel, core and cut it, before slowly feeding you (and himself) the slices. When you try to resist it, at first, too used to doing things alone, he’ll grab your face with both hands, look into your eyes and tell you. “And why exactly would I let you do that, when you’ve got me here to help you? How does that make sense?”

Soap’s… Well… Soap’s got a bunch of sisters… Each of them dealing with their periods in wildly different ways... So one thing he knows for sure: He’s not about to assume anything. You do what you’ve got to, he’ll adjust to you. He needs to go to the bathroom but you’re in there? Copy that, he’ll go piss in the yard. You’re having a cry in the kitchen because nothing looks good but you’re hungry? Talk it out with him, what do you want to eat? Let’s figure it out together, bonnie. You need to lie down in a dark room because of a migraine or headache or just to catch on sleep you’ve missed? Johnny’s blacked out every window, gathered every stray pillow and blanket in the house and will make you a nest if he’s got to.

And when you wake up in the middle of the night with a whine and a stretch because your back hurts and you’ve got cramps and cannot for the life of you get comfortable, Johnny’s hands are rubbing over you, pressing kisses to your temple and murmuring little “I ken, love… It’ll be over soon… I’m sorry you’re going through this…”

[the-s1lly-corner]

i saw in the recent lambert post you made that they like to be spoiled and that got me thinking of a follower or even a spouse taking the day to pamper them, saying how good of a person they are and how amazing they are as a leader while helping them shear their wool or washing it and how despite the things they've done the mc will always just wash the blood off their fleece and care for them regardless!!!!

Pampering Lambert for a day

worrying over my progress on the flufftober fics- i know i still have 2 months until october but ive only got 16/31 of the fics done... and im dragging my feet... grrr... maybe ill try to finish another fic before i go to bed tonight- not to mention theres still 5 empty slots that still need a character assigned to them hisshiss notes: reader is gn and a cult member, short post, admin has adopted the "lambert is a kinder leader at least compared to the bishops- they just want to help their cult thrive and survive", admins thoughts are scattered everywhere so this post kind of bounces around everywhere cws: canon typical violence

honestly? sometimes having so many people depending on you weighs heavy on their mind- adding the fact that they are more than aware that they are the last of their kind... and it gets even worse when the bishops join the cult

so a day being tended to and loved is in order- you step up to deal with everyones needs and make sure no one is immediately dying or need anything- and if anyone dares try to bother you and your lover... the look you give them is enough to make them hesitate

you both hang out in his quarters, or for fresh air you both wander around in the woods... or maybe go fishing together... you make it clear that the choice is up to lambert

so tired they just want to stay in bed, so you both end up cuddling together

run your fingers through their wool and their exhausted body is going to melt right into you... their ears flick every now and then as you work your fingers into their body

might take you down to ratau's shack to play a few games of knucklebones before coming back home, you play until its dark out

they dont like talking about some of the darker sides of being a cult leader- the sacrifices, the death, and the weight that was placed on them to be a vessel... now turned a god

they never really chose this, and they let you know that thats been weighing on them

there isnt much that can be done to change whats been done so all you can do is listen and be there for them

godhood has made their body more resilient to wounds as well as healing faster than a mortal, but you still clean their wounds when they return from a crusade... youre so so careful as you scrub their wool until the red is out... they dont remember the last time someone has taken the time to wrap their wounds... theyre left in silence as you lean down and gently press a kiss to their bandages

[je5hko]

~ Beavis and Butthead headcanons!~

okay so i decided ill will post bnbh headcanons from time to time when im not posting art. The headcanons are random btw

TW: GAY PPL(/j), ANGST, GROSS STUFF, ABUSE, HOMOPHOBIA

Beavis eats his boogers, while Butthead has his own personal booger wall (behind the couch)

When they were kids, they would try to cheer each other up/ distract each other from their mothers yelling by making funny faces! Occasionally they would tickle each other as well!

Buttheads mother was absent most of the time, but when she was around she would ignore him. Refusing to believe he was her son. She would even tell him to stop calling her mom. (sobbing afterwards) But whenever Butthead cried, he received a slap on the face. "You are not allowed to cry” or "I’ll give you a reason to cry if you don’t shut up” is all she would say after hitting him. He quickly learned that expressing emotions is wrong, so he simply stopped.

Shirley on the other hand, would look after both of the kids. She was far from being a perfect mother, but there were times she would try to take care of them apart of being drunk all day. For example she occasionally would take them out to eat junk food, give them small presents like cheap action figures, making a vague attempt at showing affection. Basically trying her best at motherhood, but besides that she would often yell at them (mostly Beavis) slap them when they did something wrong etc.

Butthead was the one to learn basic hygiene even though he wasn’t a big fan of it, while Beavis struggled with it as fuck. The blonde would often use the sink/ bathtub instead of toilet, not bothering to clean after himself.

At 17 they tried to give each other stick and pokes. They ended up getting infections with the pen ink and rusty needle.

There are moments when their faces get too close, like when they're both trying to look at something on the TV or sharing a snack. Butt-Head gets flustered and pushes Beavis away, muttering something about personal space.

Sometimes Butt-Head finds himself wanting to do something nice for Beavis, like sharing his nachos or letting him choose what to watch on TV. When this happens, Butt-Head angrily tells himself to "stop being a wuss."

Beavis sometimes finds himself doing little things for Butt-Head, like saving the last chip for him or instinctively waiting for him before going anywhere. He doesn’t know why it feels important to do these things.

Butt-Head often convinces himself that whatever he’s feeling is just a phase or a result of being around Beavis too much, so he starts suggesting they hang out with others more often, though it never actually happens.

Beavis feels a strange sense of comfort when he’s sitting next to Butt-Head, often leaning in a little closer without realizing it. Butt-Head notices and tells him to back off, but deep down he doesn’t really mind.

Butt-Head is more aggressive in trying to pick up chicks than usual, using it as a way to distract himself from his growing feelings for Beavis. He convinces himself that if he gets a girlfriend, these feelings will go away.

Neither of them ever wears matching socks, not because they’re trying to be cool, but because they’ve lost so many pairs.

Butt-Head once wore the same pair of socks for two weeks straight just to see how bad they could smell. He proudly showed them to Beavis, who gagged but couldn’t stop sniffing out of morbid curiosity.

Butt-Head refuses to wash his hair more than once a month because he believes the grease gives him “natural style.” Beavis agrees.

There’s a cup in their room that has had mold growing in it for so long that it’s practically become a pet. They named the mold “Squishy” and take turns seeing who can get closest to it without gagging

They have a secret handshake that’s a combination of a high five, fist bump, and a quick flick of the middle finger, which they think is the coolest thing ever

Beavis and Butt-Head have an odd fascination with roadkill. They’ll sometimes poke at it with sticks or laugh about how “cool” it is.

Beavis sometimes wishes he was more confident like Butt-Head, not realizing that Butt-Head is just as insecure as he is but hides it better.

Beavis suffers from recurring nightmares about losing Butt-Head, being abandoned, or his mother. He tries to mask his fear with jokes, but these dreams deeply affect him.

They both have a subtle, unspoken agreement to look out for one another. When one is sick or down, the other steps in to offer support in their own way, whether it’s through humor or practical help

Beavis has a penchant for combining disgusting food items, like mixing pickles with peanut butter or dipping hot dogs in ketchup and ice cream. He genuinely enjoys these bizarre concoctions.

[emptypapertowelholdermodelx]

weekly rituals with my deities - a study in motivation, worship, routine, & relationships

while working with apollo today he approached the subject of my lack of relationship with the deities i have been worshipping. he acknowledged how it bothered me. while praying to hekate, she pushed the word “try” into my mind several times as i lamented about how i “couldn’t” keep up with everyone i wanted to, and how my faith was waning as i lacked devotion, focus, and motivation. apollo and hekate, together, suggested i pick a day of the week to worship each deity separately. j can continue my small, daily routines (sleep for hypnos, yoga for the morrigan, pills for apollo, etc.), but i may find it easier to pick a day to devote to each deity as well. i worship seven deities, and there are conveniently seven days in the week.

all of this was confirmed when i saw a post here about how i should do the same. i knew apollo and hekate sent the post my way to confirm what they were already telling me - sign, if you will. confirmation.

in that case, i’m writing my routines and devotional acts out here, as a way to stay motivated, accountable, and have it on hand whenever i need it.

every day i plan to pray to them more intensely than usual and offer something small, whether that be a portion of my meal, a flower i found, or a cool rock.

sunday; apollo’s day. pray to him, offer something to him. sunbathe in the window, or outside, in the morning. make a point to dedicate my medicine-taking to him. journal a little, and do a weekly tarot spread to honor his divination aspect.

monday; the morrigan’s day. pray to her, offer something to her. read one of my books about her. do an intense yoga routine to get the blood pumping - no skipping out on this! journal while praying to her.

tuesday; anpu’s day. pray to him, offer something to him. do some shadow work - this could be free writing, a tarot spread accompanied by journaling, or following some prompts. i’ve found that anpu really appreciates when i perform shadow work, and as a death deity, i think ill start a trend of working through my death trauma with him on tuesdays.

wednesday; hyacinthus’ day. pray to him, offer something to him. on wednesdays i will make a point to talk and pray to him while i water my plants, pick weeds, and check on the overall health of my garden and health plants. i’d like to also do some introspective journaling on love and the trauma i am working through, as hyacinthus’ main goal with me is to build a healthy relationship with my partner.

thursday; hypnos’ day. a soft, calm day. not much goes on. i offer to him, and pray to him. perhaps i can take an extra long nap. i can cleanse my bed altar, make it all tidy, and do some devotional prayers and restful activities in bed. i will also make a point to dedicate that night’s sleep to him, and invoke him to appear in my dreams if he’s willing.

friday; hekate’s day. offer to her and pray to her. read one of my books about her. perform a magical spell or ritual, no matter how big or small. right now it’s hard to do full blown spells as i’m working in the broom closet at my christian sisters house, so i don’t have much of my supplies. but manifestation and intention setting will be one way i can accomplish this.

saturday; hestia’s day. pray to her and offer to her. clean my room and tidy up my space in dedication to her. light a candle while i pray to her, and let her energy fill my room. maybe do some baking in her honor, like a sweet desert or an attempt at bread.

i am hoping to follow this routine for my gods and myself. this will help me refocus on my practice and get in touch my deities again, who i’ve been slightly neglecting in favor of doing nothing all day.

i had an insightful time with apollo and hekate, and hope they’re proud of me as i implement their ideas into the coming weeks <3

[somewhat-very-insane]

questions i am sick and tired of hearing as a chronically ill and disabled person (and why i hate them)

this did wind up a bit longer than i expected it to, but by all means, feel free to add on with any questions you hate to be asked (and why!)

abled people, please do refrain from overtaking this post, and, disabled people, please do refrain from making this post entirely about any one specific condition.

"do you really have to talk about being disabled all the time?"

yes. yes i do. i promise that however annoying it is for you to have to endure the absolute agony that must be me making an offhand comment, or, on occasion, maybe actually talking about something that affects me for more than a few minutes at once, it is infinitely more "annoying" for me to have to actually live with the issues i talk about for every second of every day of my whole life. when i stop talking, you don't have to think about it anymore. but i always have to think about it. you get to put your full focus on something else, or, if the conversation is that annoying for you, you can leave! nobody is forcing you to stay. but talking about my problems is the only way i can get any support for them, and even when i stop, they are still there. i cannot "step away" from the figurative "conversation" with my pain. it is always talking to me, whether it be just a small whisper in the background or screaming at the top of its lungs in my ears, that pain is always there. so, while it's unfortunate that you are getting "tired of hearing about it," please do understand that i got tired of experiencing it a long, long time ago; do not destroy my one way to speak about my experiences solely because you do not wish to be made uncomfortable by them.

"do you really need that pain medication? won't you get addicted?"

in response to that, let me ask you this: do you really need that water you're drinking? aren't you afraid you'll get addicted to drinking water? it sounds ridiculous, i am aware. but i will break it down for you, now (as, in my mind, it is an adequate comparison). every human being needs things like safe, clean water, food, and some form of shelter to survive. however, the majority of humans can survive adequately with a reasonable amount of these items and will be able to function without major pain or other symptoms that detract from their general quality of life. some people, like myself, can have our basic needs of food, water, and shelter met, yet still experience major (or minor) pain, which cannot be blamed on a lack of rest, hunger, or thirst. therefore, in order to function the way society expects us to, and in order to not be quite as utterly miserable as we otherwise would, we may rely on other, stronger medications than the average person would, to manage that pain. these medications are medically prescribed, and we therefore have every right to utilize the resources provided to us. if i were to simply stop taking certain "non-necessary" medications, while my body would technically continue to function with the aid of my "necessary" medications, i as a person would not be able to function. imagine, if you will, the worst headache, joint pain, cramp, or other temporary ailment you have ever experienced. that probably wasn't a very enjoyable experience for you, was it? but you might've been able to use some ibuprofen or acetaminophen, maybe a heating pad, and after a little while it got better. now imagine if you tried to use those same things but the pain did not get better; imagine that pain lasting for months, even years on end, which you simply could not get rid of. a pain which you were expected to simply pretend was not bothering you, and continue to function the same way as everyone else, who was not in pain, was capable of. surely, in this hypothetical, you would want the (perfectly safe, legal, usually non-addictive) medicine that could make that pain even a little bit less excruciating? even if you knew that the pain would never fully disappear, not really, you would still want it to be less. so, i will take my medications, and leave you with the freedom to choose what you put in your body, just as i deserve the same freedom over mine.

"have you tried just exercising? eating healthier? meditation?"

the short answer is, for almost every disabled person i know, yes. though, granted that you've come this far, i'm sure you are prepared for the long answer, too. exercise can, for some conditions, help to alleviate or lessen certain symptoms. the key thing to note here, though, is that the exercise must be safe and selected specifically for the person based on how it may negatively affect them, as well. even activities that most able-bodied people regard as minor, such as going on a walk, can be draining, nausea-inducing, painful, and outright miserable for some people. i cannot, personally, go on a fifteen-minute walk on flat, paved terrain, in very pleasant weather, without triggering dozens of sensations that would surely make any healthy person worry that they were dying. when i tried to pick up an exercise regimen without professional help, i made my health several times worse. taking the advice of people who were, sometimes, genuinely trying to help, put me in serious danger. even when i did have a team of three doctors working on a plan for me, it took several rounds of trying and failing before we were able to determine what activities i could safely do, and which would be beneficial to me. now, being told to "just eat healthier" particularly irks me, because what foods i have to eat to maintain a more "healthy" balance of sugars, sodium, protein, and fat in my system varies quite a bit from that which a healthy person might be told is the ideal. i do understand that, generally, a low-sodium, lower-fat, mainly natural-sugar, high-protein diet sounds healthiest to a large percentage of people, the same cannot be said for myself. i have been told, by numerous medical specialists, that it is absolutely necessary for me to consume high amounts of sodium (think: eating salty food and snacks, on top of an electrolyte drink and salt pill every morning). i also deal with highly fluctuating blood sugar, which doctors cannot yet explain why it suddenly plummets (no, it is not diabetes, yes, i have been asked this dozens of times). as a result, i will often have to eat something "unhealthy," such as fruit snacks or a similar gummy candy, to get my blood sugar back up. is a high-sugar, high-salt intake diet generally what outsiders will see as healthy? of course not. but, as these are things i have to do to specifically manage my symptoms, it is always frustrating to be told that maybe they are symptoms i experience because of my diet. they are not. as for the types of people who insist that simply doing a guided meditation session each day can cure me of my dozens of health conditions, you are simply incorrect. while some people may experience a temporary psychosomatic alleviation of their pain in response to practicing mindfulness techniques, no one should ever urge another human being to substitute life-saving medication with guided breathing and essential oils. the two are simply not on the same level, and meditation does not, cannot, and will not help every disabled person deal with their symptoms.

"aren't you too young to be so unhealthy?"

no. and, while i do wish that people would not press further when faced with such a simple, clear-cut response, some people simply cannot grasp the idea that anyone under forty-five could possibly deal with any sort of health complications. people can be unhealthy at any age; even infants can have heart conditions, after all. while old age certainly has a higher correlation with deteriorating health, it is certainly not a reason to believe that, therefore, anyone who is not old cannot have poor health. believe me, i do wish that whenever someone older told me that i really am just overthinking things and lying to all my doctors and somehow faking things like MRI and X-ray results, those problems simply disappeared. unfortunately, things do not work that way, and by saying things like that not only do you invalidate the experiences of countless ill individuals, you (deliberately or not) paint us as bad people, when all we want to do is survive.

[ceasarslegion]

All the people clowning on that post are ridiculous.

You are not wrong. You are absolutely correct. Living with actual health hazards (there is rotting food on the floor and mildewing clothes) is very different than "I have a mountain of clean clothes that aren't put away cause my depression has been really bad the last few weeks so my room is messy or I can't sit on the left side of the couch". If you can go to work then you can take a day or a half-day off once a month and clean up after yourself for the betterment of yourself and your symptoms. Part of getting better and improving your situation and health (both physical and mental) is doing the work (which YES is hard) to actually care for your body and lived environment.

We talk about other people enabling us to continue bad habits and harmful behaviors but we don't talk enough about the things we do to ourselves. Which are just as if not MORE important. So thank you for saying that! It matters and people need to hear uncomfortable truths!

And anyone who read that post and took personal issue with it because they actually live like that and it made them immensely uncomfortable because of their own shame around it which you literally (and I can't stress this enough) have nothing to do with needs to reevaluate their situation and accept that they can't live without a caretaker because they're at a point in their life where they can't adequately meet their own basic needs. If someone can't legally do it to a child (providing only unclean clothing, biohazard-filled living space, spoiled food, unclean dishes to eat it with, etc.) without it being abused/neglect, then they are not meeting their own needs and I understand that it might hurt to hear that, but it's the truth and it's a disservice to everyone to not say it. If people aren't saying it, then no one knows where the line is that says "if you cross this you need help and you need it NOW".

So, thank you for making that post even though people are losing their minds over it. I'm sure it's hard to hear that you're not doing a good enough job, but sometimes that needs to be said and, yes, they might not be doing a good enough job BECAUSE of a disability or other issues but that changes literally nothing. It's still not good enough and it can be improved only by them intentionally trying to improve it. Dancing around stuff like this and trying to say nothing that will upset/bother/hurt anyone is genuinely a disservice.

10/10 post. Hope you're getting reasonable breaks from the ridiculousness that everyone is throwing at you ❤️ sorry everyone is taking it in SUCH bad faith

^^^ thank you for being the first person who knows how to read

It's. Frustrating. It's so frustrating how absolutely no one wants to take responsibility for themselves the moment it gets hard. The moment it gets uncomfortable they shut down and scream that you're being ableist for asking an adult to take responsibility for themselves even if they have a mental illness.

The thing is, life IS harder when you have a disability, mental or otherwise. But guess what? That is never going to change. The world will not stop for you just because it's unfair. There is no point in kicking your feet and pouting that it's unfair that you have to do more work than that neurotypical person to keep yourself clean and healthy because nobody did that TO you, it just is. And like, life is unfair to everybody. That is the one universal thing we all experience. Sorry I guess?

I also just like, can not stand how people flip their absolute shit the moment I stop talking to them like little kids. I didn't baby them or coo and go "uwu it's okay if you have mold in your house!" so they immediately took me saying "youre an adult, you need to act like one. Idgaf if you're depressed there are still responsibilities you have towards yourself now" as me denying their mental illness and on par with "have you tried not being sad?"

And like dude, if you can't even handle that from some guy online, I shudder to think of how developmentally behind they are from no ones fault but their own. They talk about mental illness like it makes them forever children unable to ever take any responsibility for themselves, and anyone who points out that no, you're still an adult whether you're sick or not and adulthood comes with certain responsibilities as an attack against them. So they attack back even though nobody swung at them, or even said anything they accused me of saying or implying.

And it's infuriating to those of us who actually made the effort. It's infuriating as someone who fought through all the bs that mental illness comes with in order to get better. It doesn't mean I don't struggle, or that I'm somehow cured, and I never once said that cleaning your room would cure your depression btw, but there is a fine line between struggling with your symptoms and letting them win.

And im so fucking sick of anti-recovery rhetoric. How often do you see someone get dog piled with "WHY ARE YOU CLASSIST YOU SHITTY WEALTH HOARDER YOU SAID THAT MEDICATION AND THERAPY HELPS BUT IM POOR YOU THINK IM A BAD PERSON FOR NOT BEING ABLE TO AFFORD IT"

[cashcart1er]

Red - Handed

I guess I have to post this because all my other stories won’t post for sum reason🙄

IF YALL LIKE DIS ILL MAKE MORE PARTS

Summary: When she got back home from Wakanda, Shuri surprised Riri with her old suit. A couple days after that, a new student was introduced mesmerizing Riri. Riri had never felt like this before and she never wanted this feeling to stop. Riri was so obsessed to the point where she became friends with her and stalked her when they weren’t talking. No one is getting hurt…right?

Warning:Ironheart!Riri, Stalker!Riri ,Student!Riri Student!Riri, cuss words,violence, and mature language

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@letitiaslabyrinth

@cafehyunji

@inmyheadimobsessed

@pantherheart

@tishlvr

@ashleighshaw

@darkangelchronicles

@ziayamikaelson

@xchoxix

@f4t3lunts

@nichole-224

@love4jennaortega

@oceean

@cuddl3s4shur1

@nightlife-things

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It’s been about 2 days since Riri came back home from a brawl involving 2 nations which one was under the fucking water. When she did get back all of her projects and other assignments were done thanks to Shuri. Even though that was the case, her professors were going to be on her back anyways just like how they are right now.

“Riri I think you should stay behind and help me clean up this place considering you haven’t been here to help at all.” Mr.Aston was the worst of them all. It was like her IQ was bothering him so much he wanted Riri to be bothered with him.

The bell rung shortly after he spoke to Riri and they started cleaning up some paperwork and cleared the board that was covered with lessons that were thought today. “Mrs.Williams I must ask, where have you been? If I’m being honest, MIT has been quite bland without you.” Riri chuckled because she knew that he meant he had no one to be all up on.

“Sorry I left you without someone to bother” She spoke sarcastically making him scoff. “I’m just harder on you because you’re smarter than all these other students.”

“Yeah ok. See you tomorrow Jeffrey.” He gasped as if she was trying to kill him. “It’s Mr.Aston to you-” “Bye Jeffrey” She closed the classroom door before he could get even more annoyed than he already was. Riri didn’t have any more classes that day so shenwas headed to the garage with Kehlani booming in her AirPods.

“Let me go ahead and add this to my playli-“ before Riri could even finish mumbling to herself, someone rammed into her shoulder like they’re at football practice causing her to fall in the middle of the hallway. “Have you lost your fucki- oh my” And there you were.

Usually in any other universe, the two soon to be love birds would become friends for a while until the have that mind blowing first kiss but this was different. You see this girl was not like any other girl. There was something about her mocha colored skin and they way her lip gloss was smoothly glistening on her lips.

This unknown difference sparked something in Riri. Something lovely yet something…obsessive. “Shit! I’m sorry I’m running late to a class” This girl helped Riri up with her soft hands as Riri could do nothing but stare. The was a small scratch on Riri’s forearm which the other female took notice in.

“Damn and I roughed you up a bit. I’ll make it up to you” The girl grabbed a piece of paper from her bad and began writing on it. “This..is my number. We could go out to eat sometime. I’m Y/N by the way. And you?” Riri snapped out the trance she was in to answer Y/N’s question “R-Riri uh Williams” Y/N giggled at her stutters as she put the slip of paper into Riris’ hand.

“I’ll call you soon Ri” It was almost like Y/N spoke in a flirty tone..then again that could just be Riris’ delusions. Either way, this wasn’t going to be Riris’ last time seeing Y/N even if her life depended on it.

Once she got to the garage she saw her boy best friend Q which she met in an engineering class. “Wassup Ri! The fuck you been? You know there has been some rumors about you being up in Wakanda and shit” Riri didn’t even acknowledge her friend at first as she was still replaying the conversation you and her had until he hit her on her shoulder.

“Oh what’s up” He scoffed at her dry response even though that’s how she usually is. “I said where the hell you been lil nigga?” Riri shot a mean glare at him due to the name. “First of all, why can’t I go somewhere without you asking where I was and Second, don’t call me lil cuz’ ain’t shit little about me nigga” He chuckled at Riris’ temper.

“Damn my bad. I see you about to head into the garage. Can I see what’s under that dusty ass blanket now?” Riri scoffed at his unnecessary insult to the cover that used to hold the original Ironheart suit. “No it’s been shipped somewhere. Even it wasn’t, I still wouldn’t let you see it because what’s under that is a secret.

Q whined at the shorter girl’s stubbornness. “Man whatever. Anyways after you done with whatever you gotta do, wanna get sum to eat?” Riri grinned a bit at the gesture. “If I’m not busy then maybe” Q was shocked because usually it was an immediate because she had ‘better things to do’ but Riri was in a good mood.

“For real? Cool see you later” Riri was about to remind the taller guy she said maybe but he was already running off. After that, Riri went into her garage ready to rebuild her suit that was already in the garage? “What the fuck?” There was a note on the chest area of the suit catching Riris’ attention.

‘Repaired your old suit! (Without using vibranium) I hope it’s the way you want it. You still need to lay low though. Those officers aren’t too happy about happy about Ironheart being back on the move’ - Shuri. This made the shorter girl chuckle. she was glad to be back to her old suit and anyone tell if they saw how she was embracing it right now. “Alright let’s get you updated”

——————————————————————————

A couple hours had passed and it was about 10:45. Riri wanted to sleep in her dorm today instead of her trusty workshop just to worry about being late to class the next day. I soon as she stepped out her garage there you were again. You looked beautiful where you stood as your curly fro flowed in the crisp breeze. Before Riri could even get more lost in your eyes, you began moving onto your next destination which looked like the dorm A center.

Riris’ dorm center is dorm B but it wouldn’t hurt to make a small stop right? Riri began speed walking so she could close the gap slightly but left it open just a bit to keep her from getting caught. Riri kept a close eye on you as she slowly crept behind.

SNAP

Then just as things started to ease through, a fucking twig snapped. Riri dashed behind a trash can before you could notice her. “Yo anyone there?” You asked but no response was given back. “Let me just get to my dorm” you mumbled continuing your walk.

After a second or two Riri got right back up following you once again. If she was being honest, when she found out what dorm number you have she didn’t know what she was going to do with such information but she was going to see regardless.

They were just about there to the dorms but let you slip away slightly when you cut a corner. Riri was a bit behind so she needed to speed walk a bit. “Slow the hell d-“

SMACK

Riri were met with your fist as soon as she turned on the same corner as you. She fell down from the blow wincing. “Who are you and why the fuck are you following me perv?” You saw Riri and a look of confusion doused your face. “What the f-fuck? My nose is bleeding” Riri acted as if she was clueless why she was hit.

“You were just following me what did you think was going to happen?” “I wasn’t- shit following you! I was going to my friends crib and he’s in this dorm center” Riri was partially lying. Q did have a dorm here but that was definitely not the reason why she was headed here but of course, you became apologetic falling for Riris lie.

“Im so sorry I jumped to conclusions. Here come to my dorm I can fix you up” Riri accepted the hand you held out for her so you can help her up.

Now you’re really in it deep

[cloudcountry]

I don't play sdv so im sending this on anon in case i say something wrong but it's always been bizarre to me how people dehumanize shane

I've seen multiple videos talking about the worst bachelors and they always put him in first because "he betrays the player" by relapsing on drinking but like, isn't that just realistic? Shane is human that's normal, it's always weird how they want to just save and fix Shane instead of accepting and loving him, they treat him like shit and for what? it's not like he's abusive he's sweet and caring he just has an addiction 😭

anon you hit the nail right on the head.

under the cut because im talking about mental health and relapsing.

the people who yell about shane being a fixer upper the LOUDEST are the one who actually WANT him fixed. nobody who genuinely cared for shane and loves him for who he is wants to "fix him," in fact you as the farmer dont even really push him to do anything. shane decides to get therapy on his own, he decides to repair his relationships on his own, HELL he even asks the farmer to take him to the hospital after he drank too much ON HIS OWN.

people love to cry out "YOU CANT FIX HIM" when nobody, not even the IN GAME FARMER is trying to do that. shane is a very realistic character, one of the most realistic in the game, and to say he "betrays" his spouse because he RELAPSED or "isn't a good husband" because his room is messy is CRAZY to me. its like people aren't even hearing themselves talk.

ive seen some people who seem to genuine like shane talk about how his room is so bothersome because "its messy" and "doesnt look as nice as the other candidates" and EVERY TIME i'm like. Yeah and you know why? because shane is depressed. because shane, who struggles to get out of bed sometimes, may not have the energy to clean up his room every day. shane, who still has horrible thoughts about himself, may feel like he's too worthless to even bother trying because what would a little cleaning do? shane, even after he marries you, is still VERY MENTALLY ILL.

its like some of the posts on here talking about how people only support mentally ill people if theyre clean and up to THEIR standards. shane is literally a walking representation of that. even the people who love him cant completely accept his mental illness because it makes him nasty to them and yet not a single one of them sees a problem with it. it makes me so angry because i HAVE struggled with depression, i HAVE gone through days were i couldn't clean, i HAVE been disgusting. and to me, every single time i see someone talk about shane this way, a character who i relate to because we have very similar struggles, it tells me that people would think this way about me too.

stardew is such a great game for finding fictional characters that embody your struggles. shane is one of those characters. people like him because of his many flaws and even greater amount of strengths. people like shane because he embodies them. the stardew fandom screaming over and over again that shane is nothing but an outlet for people with fixer complexes will never not piss me the hell off.

[crushedsweets]

so I can't find it, but when the proxies were helping clocks, you mentioned that Tim doesn't like it when she screams or cries. Something about it bothering him. I wish I could recall.

OK SO i also cant find the post (cuz of tumblrs tagging system) buuut i'm gonna use this to ramble about clocky meeting the proxies again, since i sorta adjusted it...

in my au, O/S syndrome refers to slender sickness. it usually starts with the operator taking COMPLETE control over someone's body and mind, and then slenderman 'stealing' them and making them do his bidding (clean up operator problems) which results in them having a 'proxy mode' vs their 'normal' mode

so clockys backstory goes as usual, then towards the end she starts slowly getting O/S syndrome. i sort of want her introduction to toby/the proxies to be ALMOST a reflection of how toby and clocky canonically met. (her getting hurt cuz of him, him helping her as an apology)

so around the time natalie replaced her eye with a clock, O/S syndrome fully set in. while sick, she couldn't form memories, she had inhuman strength, an insatiable bloodlust - just became a general menace, and because bodies started dropping all around tuscaloosa with operator symbols slashed into walls, the proxies had to intervene.

it started with toby stalking her while she's stalking her next victim. her and toby get into a huge tussle and she locks onto him as her next victim. he chooses to play cat and mouse and run off to the forest, having her follow. i'm imagining an almost comical scene where she's slashing around branches and stuff with a machete and he's like 'ahhh cant catch meeeee' and she's screaming obscenities. . .

then by time he ends up at the cabin, tim or brian probably knock her out since she's, yknow, a huge threat. a bat to the back of her head.

and she would wake up in their spare 'storage' room thats filled to the brim with boxes, old bikes, massive stacks of newspapers, cds, etc. she'd probably have her wrists zip tied to an exposed pipe and she'd be losing her fucking mind. screaming at the top of her lungs, thrashing around, whatever. "LET ME GO YOU FUCKING FREAKS LET ME GO ILL KILL YOU ILL FUCKING KILL YOU"

the way to slowly heal O/S syndrome is being around slenderman(aka in his forest) for a long time, until the Operator loses grasp. the way to quickly deal with O/S syndrome is to um.. no nice way to put this. slendermans jaw unhinges and he oozes this gross fucking black tar-like goo, and drinking it (or putting it into pill capsules and taking those) makes the operator let go. it doesnt really have a taste, thank god, but it is thicker than water.

so it would be a whole ordeal of toby coming in like heeeeyyyy... lol... and he would think shes REALLY BADASS because he's never met a woman like her (so strong, loud mouthed, violent, etc). plus he's kinda lonely in general so LMFAOOOO . so he wants to befriend her, and is kinda ignoring the fat that she's mad as hell.

but she's in so much agony. from the O/S syndrome to getting hit with a bat, she's screaming and crying and never shutting up. throwing up, trying to literally bite and kick the proxies if they even bring in water. so toby would be 'designated' to her because "well youre the dumb fuck who brought her here, you deal with it"

he'd probably have to trick her into taking one of the pills or putting the sludge into an opaque water bottle or something. after the first bit is ingested, she quickly gains more clarity. he'd try getting a cot or air mattress set up for her. bring a book and drawing supplies. he wants her to trust him. within a day or two, she'd already start feeling immensely better and the operator is letting go - and toby would stupidly trust her, and completely undo the zipties, and she'd run the fuck off, and he'd be like FUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKKKK. and not even a week later, she'd come back. because she's horribly sick again. and she'd beg for the stupid pills.

and she'd start to trust toby, and eventually kate. . and a little bit brian. but she would still not fuck with tim cuz it is true, he would hate all the screaming, and would occasionally bang on the door and shout at her to quiet down.

but yeah . . thats how she gets situated with the proxies and her O/S syndrome is healed. :3

[theshelteredbrat]

I'm so done

I don't wanna take care of myself anymore

I don't want to feel anything anymore bc anything I do for some sense of happiness ends badly, makes me feel worse (mainly due to my parents)

But I can't even fucking cry when I try. When I really need to?

But I hate feeling numb so maybe pain will work?

And of course my parents are just sooooo supportive (sarcastic voice). My mom keeps saying things that are basically calling me fat and sluggish. My parents won't let me do shit. Then they get mad at me for so many small stupid things.

They hate whenever I listen to music which is basically my only outlet.

school is fun bc I put on a mask and tell bad jokes and trip over myself to make sure everyone's happy and I'm not hated.

Whenever someone's mad or sad I feel its my fault even tho ik it's not but I feel horrible. And whenever I do share my true feelings they'll either laugh and dismiss it (which happens most of the time) or they get super concerned and I feel like I'm acting out for attention.

And idk I usually regret posting shit like this bc people are always rlly concerned but its sweet considering yall care about me a lot more than most ik irl but plz don't waste ur time over me. Im an attention seeking bitch whos not worth ur time and is js venting

Church and youth group is just great bc God don't care about me. I believe he exists bc I swear he has a grudge against me but he don't bother about me. And I feel like I'm getting preached at whenever I go. But I love the people there and can't really not go to church bc of my parents

And home is just SO MANY FUCKING CHILDREN

Like wtf I'm the oldest, then I get three siblings, which is fine, i love them they're js rlly annoying. Then they get into foster care. Then they stop. Now they're adopting someone. Now they're taking in six boys.

And ik the home is supposed to be a safe space and that's great but I feel so out of place and unwanted and useless. I literally take up a room, a drawer in the bathroom, I eat food. I shower, I use electricity, and tons of money

And I can't get a moment of peace, its literally do this, do that, and chores is good for taking responsibility but like wtf. I feed 1-8 children, get half of them dressed, help with brushing hair and teeth. Now I have to help them learn to read. Help them do their homework. Take them on a walk. Change the diaper.

Wtf this is parenting stuff I shouldn't have to be doing this everyday. My mom doesn't even have a job, she just has two kids during the day and will have to pick kids up (we all go to the same school except for one who takes the bus) and I'm yelled at all the time for being incompetent? For not finding a mess to clean up in a room I haven't been in all day?

For not doing homework when I'd helped everyone else? For not having time to get myself ready bc I have to get kids ready? For not exercising when there's literally no time? For not reading when I don't have any freedom. For saying yes, for saying no, for not having anyextracurricular, for having one?

My mom yells at me that I don't talk to my family enough or spend enough time with them. Do you know how many times I've tried to tell a joke or a cool fact or something funny that happened at school and they yelled at me to be quiet? How many times I've tried to tell them about my friends or a project at school or a new interest I've picked up to be insulted by them? They never fail to point out some flaw or traits that they don't like. How I didn't do something correctly.

Do you know how badly I've wanted to hear "I'm proud of you" in a nondissmissive way? From my family? I heard that from a teacher once in my life. Best memory ever.

I'm so fucking useless and unwanted and numb and tbh i deserve the pain and suffering of life. The mask at school and youth group may crumble and hopefully they'll dismiss me but they almost might get rlly concerned and ill js be the attention seeking bitch like I always am.

Oh God please ignore me. Don't be concerned. Don't waste your time on me. I'm js being a dumb little teen. Sorry if you read that all

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Light on the Darkside - Chapter Thirteen.

Apologies for not getting back to comments and reblogs, guys. Life is a bit fraught at the moment between my anxiety and work pressures. I'm only just about able to find the time and mental clarity to post! I love you all for leaving such beautiful comments, though, and I appreciate you for taking the time to do so :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 4,217

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Topics cover depression, suicide and eating disorders. Minors DNI!

“Whatever the hell you’re doing, please, don’t stop on my account.”  

He stood for a few seconds, admiring the view. God, that body. Honestly, it was a sight he’d never tire of when coming back into his flat, seeing Ella there. What he liked even more was the fact that after first arriving, she hadn’t actually left as yet. Well, that was partly untrue. The day before, they’d driven up to the huge ASDA supermarket on the other side of Nuneaton to buy food, and so Ella could purchase a few necessities that meant she didn’t have to go home. 

A five pack of knickers, a couple of new tops, another pair of jeans, socks, pyjama bottoms for lounging in, some moisturiser, a toothbrush, face wash, deodorant and body spray. With a few pieces of makeup already in her bag, but not too bothered about being seen bare faced, she was set to stay for as long as she wanted. After seven weeks without one another, they weren’t quite so content to part ways just yet.  

She’d called in with her mum and told her, April cooing and sending her into a pink cheeked mess of embarrassment, telling her to enjoy herself. Oh, she really, really was. 

Pausing from the yoga stretches, Ella jumped to her feet, giving him a big kiss as he placed the massive IKEA bag full of clean laundry down. “I like how bendy you are, innit.” 

“Hmm,” she hummed, her eyebrows raising a few times in rapid succession. “I noticed that with all the creative ways you were bending me around last night.”  

He laughed, low and dirty, smacking her on the bum before heading to the kitchen area. “I will a few more times today too if you like?” 

“I like!” she grinned, standing on one leg, lifting the other behind her and reaching back to grasp her foot as she bent elegantly. It was just them on that Monday morning, Snedders off to try his best at being allowed to move back into his own abode, and Steve over in Leamington Spa, visiting his mum.  

She then flexed herself even further, James’s eyebrow raising sharply as he watched her bring her foot to touch the back of her head. He wasn’t sure a dick twitch was the appropriate response, but it was the one he had.  

“Shitting hell!”  

“A yoga body is a healthy body,” she sighed, breathing deeply before releasing her foot, repeating the same with her right leg. 

“It’s a fucking elastic band, Ells bells!”  

She laughed softly, extending further, her foot once again brought to the back of her head. “That’s what Mary used to say when she supervised my yoga time, make sure I wasn’t like, running in place or doing excessive sit ups.” 

Indeed, at her very worst with her illness, Ella had exercised to extreme excess. Jogging for six miles a day, doing hundreds of push ups and sit ups, all on roughly two hundred calories.  

Clicking the kettle on, he smiled thinly. “I miss Mary, she was so cool.” 

“Yeah, she was the best. Even when she was trying to make me eat carbohydrates and I was sitting there, screaming and crying, calling all the food minging and throwing my plate,” she spoke, her behaviour back then making her feel embarrassed in the present. She’d come far since. “Speaking of which, I want some of that melon we bought. Can you pass me a knife, please?” 

Grabbing the cantaloupe from the fruit bowl, she walked around to his side of the kitchen units, placing it on the chopping board while he moved to pull a knife from the block in the corner. Immediately, he paused, looking down at the blade. A flash of being on the bathroom floor hit him, remembering the pain, the distress, the blood.  

“James? You’ve stopped,” she spoke, her brain quickly assessing the situation. Oh, no, that wasn’t the... Oh, shit. Reaching for him, she grasped his arm, taking the knife from his hand. “Bleedin’ hell, that was the one you used, wasn’t it?” 

He nodded, eyes a little rounded, Ella opening a drawer to place it in and hide it away. He didn’t need to see it. “Baby, come on. Come here. You’re alright,” she spoke comfortingly, pulling him into her arms. Slipping a hand beneath his t shirt, she stroked his back, soft skin flecked with scabs from her nails, her other hand smoothing his hair as he wrapped himself around her, pressing his face against her neck with a groan. The comforting scent of daisies began to soothe him, just as it always had with her. 

“Really didn’t think it’d affect me like that,” he mumbled. She could have slapped Steve for being so thoughtless; to clean the blade his best friend had used to take his own life and simply return it to place, voicing that. “Nah, babe. Don’t be pissed off at him. They’re my knives and they’re worth a fortune. He wouldn’t have chucked it away without asking me. Probably just forgot, innit.” 

His heart thundered against her chest, Ella guiding him over to the sofa and sitting him down, taking the half smoked joint present in the ashtray and lighting it. With a large puff taken, she handed it to him, her hand resuming its stroke between his wide shoulder blades. “Smoke that and calm down. You’re alright, you’re past it now. It’s okay, I’m here.” 

It was the first falter she’d witnessed in him since he’d absconded to his room back at Moor Acres, Ella trying her hardest to be supportive, although she didn’t know what magic words to say in order to soften what must’ve been a traumatic flashback. True, he had the reminders there on his own arms all the time, but seeing the blade he’d used as an implement truly must’ve rocked him hard.  

Just her sitting there with him was all he needed, feeling her kiss his shoulder and rest her chin atop the thick plane of muscle, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “Thanks, darlin’. Feel a bit better now, like.” Both she and weed were brilliant for calming anxiety, Ella perhaps having the greater edge there, James finishing the joint and stubbing it out, pulling her onto his lap as he rested back.  

She wasn’t sure she believed that, and her face must have revealed it with the soft scrutiny he picked up on. If there was any person in this world he could share with other than Michael, it was her. It was her first, in fact. “I was back there for a second, in that moment. It fucking scared the fuck out of me, Ella. I spent months chasing it, wanting to go back there and succeed, like. Nah. Just holding it again made me see how much I wanna be alive, innit. Don’t ever wanna go back to that darkness.” 

His ability to open up and express where it’d taken him to made her proud, Ella kissing his forehead before her lips met his. “I believe they call that person growth.” 

Immediately, he frowned, pointing a heavily ringed finger at her. “Don’t you quote that old witch at me.”  

Of course, he meant Dr. Beaumont. She had to concede that truly, she wasn’t for everyone. She’d eventually gotten through well with Ella, although the young woman also heavily credited people like Mary and James helping her through recovery, but for him, her methods had not been effective. 

“I think it’s a boarder term rather than a Clarice Beaumont specific,” she declared, moving off his lap and over to the kitchen. “Tea?” 

“Yeah, yeah I was doing that before my brain went splat, wasn’t I?” he hummed, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm. “Nice one, babe. Love you.” 

It fell from his mouth without him even registering, but god, how true the sentiment was. He’d loved her for months, but declarations of such did not come easily to him, especially not when he’d been so ill upon realising it.  

Ella beamed, racing back over and jumping on him, holding his face in her hands as she smothered him in kisses. “I love you, too!” She hummed happily as they fell into a deeper kiss, James making her snicker with laughter as he pulled her knickers up and began to squeeze and lightly smack her bum.  

“Stop it!” she warned. 

“You fucking love it!” 

True, she did. He knew how to give the good smacks.  

Going back to the kitchen, she prepared the tea and used a different knife to slice herself up some melon, selecting a few more fruits too that she added to a bowl and took back to the sofa. They sat there snacking on them while watching a film, James deciding on The Silence of the Lambs since Ella had confessed she’d never seen it. 

After it had finished, she went for a bath while he sat and played guitar, Steve arriving back after half an hour of his playing. Of course, he had to let him know of the incident that had occurred regarding the knife.  

“Oh fuck,” he exclaimed quietly, his face falling. “I didn’t even think, ya know. I don’t even remember doing it, I just went on autopilot when I was cleaning up the mess. Nah, no excuse though, Jim. I should have gotten rid of it,” he spoke, moving to hug him tightly. “Sorry, man.” 

James could understand that, knowing he’d probably had to disengage his thoughts to an extent in order to get through something as horrific as cleaning his best mate’s blood from the bathroom floor. “It’s alright, but yeah, just don’t get it back out the junk drawer. I’ll go buy another set eventually.” 

His friend looked thoughtful for a minute. “Hold on. Them are proper chef knives, aren’t they?”  

“Yep,” he confirmed, “nicked, most likely. Do you remember when I bought them off that fella in the pub with the duffle full of knocked off goods?”  

He did, now it was mentioned. “Yeah, yeah! You paid like, seventy quid for ‘em and later found out they were worth about four hundred. “Nah, hang on. I have a plan.” Moving rapidly to the kitchen, he grabbed the block, took the suicide knife from the drawer and slotted it back in, leaving the flat at speed.  

James was rolling a joint when he returned, a huge, triumphant grin plastered across his face as he slapped down a wad of twenty-pound notes on the table. “He is redeemed!” he announced, grinning widely. 

“How the... shitting hell, how much cash is that, mate?” he spoke, quickly sealing the joint up and leaning to count it. “There’s three hundred quid there! How did you... how... you just walk out with ‘em and return with three hundred quid ten minutes later? Explain.” 

“Fella downstairs is a chef, ain’t he? Gave him a hundred quid discount and he ripped my hand off for ‘em!”  

Never let it be said that Steven Savage was not a brilliant negotiator.  

“Here, sellers fee,” James spoke, pulling five twenties for the pile and handing them to him. “Go on, I’m up a hundred and thirty. You have that, mate.” 

“Sure?” 

“Before I change my mind, man.” 

“Quality!” he announced, placing the cash in his wallet. “Ka-ching! Pub tonight then, yeah? Or are you planning on pounding a new hole into Ella some more?” 

James smirked, lighting the joint. “I can do that later. Suppose I better ask the missus, though.” He paused for a second. “Ella! You up for the pub tonight, babe?” 

A few seconds pause followed his boom. “Yes!” 

“Top grade reply, my darlin’,” he called. 

“Innit!” 

“Fucks sake. She’s picking up the way you talk,” Steve groaned, James laughing, passing him the joint.  

“Innit?” 

“Nah, I ain’t sitting there with you two parroting each other all night on my own, and being stuck at the face.” Pulling his Nokia from his jacket, he scrolled through the phone book, taking another puff on the joint before passing it back. “Hester! How are ya, gorgeous? Yeah, I’m alright, yeah. You up for a few drinks tonight? Yeah, yeah, I’m heading up The Gallows with Jim and Ella. Alright, see ya there at seven. Bye.” 

They waited on Ella to get ready, finding that she actually fussed much less than either were expecting, zipping her boots up and fluffing her hair before pulling on her jacket. James smiled to himself, noting that it was the first time he’d seen her in a top that revealed her body, the one she chose cropped just above her belly button. It meant her confidence was growing, that she didn’t feel the need to hide in clothes four sizes too big.  

Hester was already waiting at the bar when they arrived, hugging them all in turn, squeaking when Steve gave her leather clad bum a sharp slap.  

“Beast,” she teased, poking him with a long fingernail. 

“Just the way you like me,” he grinned, the pretty blonde turning to Ella and tucking in at her side. 

“We need some serious girl talk, darl!” she whispered, the guys asking what they wanted to drink, both giving their beverage requests before heading off to a table together. “So, seeing him again already after Saturday, hmm?” 

Ella bit the corner of her lip. “I haven’t been home yet.” 

Hester’s mouth dropped open. “Get the fuck outta here! Really?” 

“Yeah, really,” she began, sitting down, pulling her cigarettes out and offering her one. “It’s like we didn’t spend that time apart at all. I’m really enjoying it, being with him on the outside. It’s the simple things, like being able to kiss him whenever I want to without being barked at by an orderly,” 

“Or shag his freakin’ brains out!” Hester chimed excitedly, biting her tongue naughtily. 

“Oh yeah,” Ella confirmed, “there’s been plenty of that!” 

“And! How is he? Are we dealing with impressive merchandise, too?” 

Of course, she’d ask for the dirty details. “He’s fucking amazing, and yes, the merchandise is above average,” she revealed, grinning as Hester clapped and hugged her arm with a squeak. “Not like, freaky big, but oh god. Not small either!” 

“Darl! I am so happy for you!” she enthused, giving her a little shake.  

“Yeah, I’m bleedin’ happy for me too,” she chirped, looking in the direction of the bar with a happy smile. “That’s my man up there!”  

The squeaks continued. “Dude, you’re fucking with War. You have no idea how cool that is! I mean, you’re cool all on your own, such a freakin’ awesome chick, but shit! You bagged one of the biggest hotties on the scene, I swear. Girls line up for that man to be single. He’s renowned for turning girls down if he’s with someone!” 

That was very much who James was as a person, Ella knew well. “And you’re shagging another, so yes, my friend. We have done well for ourselves.”  

Hester nodded, offering her hand. “Put it there!” Ella shook her hand, the pair descending into giggles. They composed themselves by the time James and Steve arrived with them, the former resting a hand upon Ella’s thigh after he sat down, giving her a wink.  

Hester’s words stuck in her thoughts a little, but she truly didn’t notice the validity of them until she glanced around the bar, seeing the way female eyes especially all roved towards their table. It didn’t matter at all to her, that her boyfriend had status as a musician very much coming into prominence, but certainly, her spot seemed to be a much coveted one.  

Finally, after years of being a bullied loser, an antisocial, miserable anorexic, she was now one of the cool girls. It wasn’t of her own merit, though, merely through the man she was with. Or, so she thought.  

On the way to the toilet, she passed by the bar, overhearing a couple of women talking between themselves as they looked her up and down. 

“Well, of course he’d be with someone like her! She fucking looks like a model.” 

Slowing down, she changed her path to the cigarette machine instead, her curiosity piqued. She needed a new pack anyway.  

“No, she’s too cute looking to be a model, but that body. I’d kill for legs like that. And she gets to wrap them around War.” 

“I know! It’s so unfair! Why not me?” the first girl wailed, laughing with her friend, Ella picking up her Marlboro Lights and popping them into her pocket, continuing to the toilet. She’d be lying if such wasn’t a shot in the arm for her, to hear other women especially be complimentary. On her way back again, she caught the eye of them, smiling, receiving the same back before returning to the table.  

Suddenly, she understood how women like Hester must feel all the time. Her friend was effortlessly cool, with her long, dark and blonde streaked curls, her gorgeous boobs and effortless style. It felt strange, but nice. Sadly, it was not to last, though.  

“Ahh,” Hester exclaimed after they left the bar at 9pm, about to move on somewhere else. It could get a bit much for the guys, being on their own territory and thus getting pestered by fans for autographs or pictures. Sniffing the air, she began looking around, trying to trace the source. “Where’s that smell coming from? Is that the new curry house?” 

“Yeah, I went with Dan and Snedders a few weeks ago. Fucking lovely,” Steve confirmed, pointing across the street. “Shall we go?”  

Everyone agreed, although inside, Ella felt her hear beginning to pound nervously. It had been a long, long time since she’d eaten at a restaurant. Eating around James wasn’t an issue, Steve or Hester either. But being in a place where other people were? Gulp. Maybe it would be quiet, though, being a Monday night.  

No such luck, she found upon entering, seeing a rugby team in there still celebrating their obvious win with their various cohorts. Oh, god. Sitting down, Steve ordered a round of drinks while they studied the menus, Ella feeling her mouth drying up rapidly. She didn’t know the calorie content of the food, although she was getting a lot better with not counting every single thing she consumed.  

Where to begin, knowing that it was a fairly large meal, too. It had been years since eating a curry because of the high fat content, panic starting to creep over her, biting her lips together to try and hide the fact she was trembling. It was noticed, though.  

“I probably should have asked you if you were alright with this before we piled over here. Sorry,” James whispered at her side. “Just choose something small, like a side dish if you don’t feel up to anything bigger. No one’s judging you, babe.” 

A side dish. Yes. But what the hell to have? The Indian names of the dishes all began to blur, her heart thundering, palms sweating. Why did it have to be like this? 

“Give me a sec. It’s hot, I need a bit of air.” She was out of her seat and marching for the door in seconds, Steve and Hester looking to James.  

“Yeah, she’s having a bit of a food panic, innit,” he confirmed, Hester’s face saddening, Steve looking confused. He still didn’t really get it, but then he didn’t truly know Ella very well. He didn’t have the understanding that certain foods or situations could spark anxiety, especially after they’d sat together that morning sharing a large plate of Marmite-slathered toast.  

“The poor darl,” Hester cooed softly, James standing. 

“Give us a minute, she might need to just go straight home if she’s too anxious and all that. If she does come back in, though, don’t make a fuss, yeah?” Leaving the curry house, he turned to find her sitting on the steps of the bank flanking the building, wiping her eyes as she smoked a cigarette and trembled.  

“To use one of yours and Steve’s favourite words for Snedders, I feel like such a fucking flid right now,” she sniffed, James coming to crouch before her. “I wish it wasn’t so scary, but my brain just panics and I get myself all stressed!” 

“Okay, take a few deep breaths,” he began, resting his hands to her thighs and stroking them. “What’s the scariest right now? The different food, or the fact you’re not eating somewhere familiar?” 

God, he was so intuitive with her. “Both. Sorry, I’m like, not trying to be difficult, but both!” 

“No one thinks you’re being difficult, least of all me.” Leaning to kiss her, he then continued. “Alright, well a group of pissed up rugby players ain’t gonna be paying attention to anything other than shovelling in curry like it’s their last meal, so that’s something. And the different food, I suppose you can count that as another milestone, innit? Eating something different would be an achievement.”  

He was right. “And I wouldn’t look like a freak for having something small?” 

“Nah, nobody gives a shit what you eat. Except for you. Don’t even matter if you can’t finish it, at least you gave it a go, yeah? There’s no orderlies watching over you, you’re just a person whose out with her boyfriend and friends, nobody expecting anything of you either,” he continued, his words beginning to calm her down. He always had a knack for it, deescalating her spirals.  

Taking another drag on her cigarette, she contemplated a while longer. It would definitely be something she could speak of in triumph when she went to see Mandy, her new therapist she’d been referred to by Dr. Beaumont for continued treatment outside of the facility. “Okay. Let’s go back in.” 

He smiled, kissing her head. “Proud of you, little.” They returned inside, Ella picking up her pint and chugging a huge amount back, lifting the menu again and studying. Although she’d been told not to make a fuss, Hester really wanted to do something to make it better for her friend if she could. Being a vegetarian, it narrowed down her choices, too.  

“Ella, I really can’t decide,” she began, leaning to point at the vegetarian options on the page before her. “Do I go with the lentil daahl, or the spinach and paneer? Or, I could have the veggie bhuna. Arrgh, help!” 

James smiled, watching it. In including Ella’s input over her own choice and cleverly detailing the dish ingredients, Hester was not only giving her information she could easily process, she was making it all a little less frightening for her.  

Ella noticed that they were available as side dishes, feeling herself beginning to calm further. “I think I’m going to get the spinach and paneer, so you can try some of mine if you like?” 

“Then I’ll get the daahl, and you can try some of that!” With decisions made, the waiter came over, scribbling down their choices first, then Steve’s. 

“Chicken phal, boiled rice and a keema naan please, mate,” James spoke lastly, the waiter eyeing him carefully. 

“Sir, this is the hottest dish on the menu. Forgive me, but are you quite sure?” 

“He’s got a cast iron stomach, my friend,” Steve chirped, nodding towards James with a grin. “Spicy things don’t affect him at all. He can eat a raw chili pepper and not even flinch.” 

James confirmed, while Ella and Hester looked at him in disbelief. “It’s true.” 

The waiter scribbled the order down. “One moment, guys.” He headed for the kitchens, returning a few seconds later with a small, white plate in his grasp, a whole red chili atop it. “This I must witness for myself, sir.” 

He expected him to take it and moderately nibble off a piece, his eyebrows raising when James took the chili by the stalk and bit the entire thing from the top. He waited, knowing there had to be some kind of reaction as he crunched through it, James shrugging.  

“That’s really tasty, I like it,” he spoke. The waiter was stunned. 

“Oh my god!” Hester cried, pointing. “You aren’t even flinching!” 

“Mm,” he hummed, washing it down with a mouthful of Coke, deciding not to drink any alcohol at all that night. “I like spicy food, never been bothered by it.”  

The waiter left them too it, muttering ‘crazy white man’ in his native Urdu as he headed back to the kitchens, Hester still in a state of shock at witnessing him do it. 

“Just make sure you brush your teeth before you go near Ella’s lady bits later!” she spoke, the girl herself snorting into her pint glass as she took a sip. 

“Yeah, I ain’t in the market for burning her flaps off.” James spoke, everyone descending into hysterics. Looking at her, he winked, covering her hand with his, glad to see her looking much more relaxed.  

They’d both succumbed a little to what ailed them that day, what they were now gladly on a road to recovery with, and both times the other had been exactly what they’d needed to restore a calm balance. How good they truly were for one another.  

[poledancingdinos]

Little Comforts

Pairing: August Walker X OFC

Word Count: 1073 words

Warnings: Daddy kink, Dom/Sub, Period pains, Feeling awful, Hurt/Comfort

Taglist: @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha​ @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @elizabetharegina @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @lena-banena

A/N: This post has been edited to format it for Tumblr instead of the AO3 link

Masterlist

“Daddy…” she whimpered, hearing August step into the bedroom.

“What’s going on, baby?” He hated to say it but his girlfriend looked terrible. He’d only been gone a few hours, what had happened in that short amount of time?

“I’m tired, Daddy. Everything hurts.” 

August brushed her hair back behind her ear. “What hurts little one?” She caught his large hand in both of hers, pulling him closer to her. She cuddled his arm like a heating bag, squeezing it between her thighs and nuzzling his biceps 

“Daddy.” 

Her weak voice made August’s chest clench. She was still new to having a dom, both in bed and as caregiver of sorts, only ever using the term ‘sir’ until then. She must have felt really ill to start behaving so small and being so dependent on him.

“Okay, little one, I’m going to help you, but I need you to let go of my hand first.” 

She shook her head, a pout becoming briefly visible before being hidden under her thick comforter. 

“Daddy will get you what you need to make it feel better, I promise. Do you trust me?”

She sniffled a few times but her forehead brushed against his biceps as she nodded in acceptance. This time, when he pulled his arm away, she didn’t resist.

He escaped to the bathroom where he kept various items under the sink for occasions such as that one, pulling out a bottle of painkillers and an animal shaped heating pad. When he made it back into the kitchen, he put the heating pad in the microwave and prepared a tray of snacks. He had a nagging feeling that the pain had most likely kept his little submissive bedridden and that she probably hadn’t bothered eating or drinking anything all day.

He prepared a mug of peppermint tea in case she was also having bouts of nausea and finished loading the tray with a bottle of water, assorted fruit and a bag of her favorite candy from the back of the top shelf. The microwave beeped just as he finished collecting everything that was needed. Perfect timing.

He carried the tray over one arm while holding the near burning stuffed manatee by the end of its tail. He didn’t miss the way his treasured submissive opened her eyes to peek at him when she heard his footsteps but he focused his attention on keeping the tray balanced as he set it down on the dresser.

“All right, little one, I need to pull back the blankets,” he cajoled as he tugged on the corner of the thick blanket. She allowed it to be moved but curled into a tighter ball as the cool air hit her skin. She was only wearing the small camisole and flannel shorts she'd slipped on the previous night, making the goosebumps traveling over her skin fully visible. She’d rolled over since he first arrived and August sighed upon noticing the small spot of blood on the back of her sleep shorts.

“Princess, I’m going to have to take you to the bathroom to clean you up. Lift your arms.”

She didn’t feel like moving but the promise of being in her daddy’s arms was enough to convince her to cooperate. When he slipped his arms under her form, she wrapped hers around his neck. He sat her down on the counter and handed her the warm manatee.

“Hug this while I go get you a change of clothes.”

She immediately obeyed, sighing as the warmth quieted the angry cramps twisting in her stomach. Getting her cleaned up was a bit of a struggle since she refused to stand on her own but August eventually managed to coax her into some clean boyshort style period underwear allowing him to spray some hydrogen peroxide on the stained shorts and leaving them to sit over the side of the tub. 

When she was back into bed, still tightly clutching the heating pad, he brought the tray of food closer.

“You need to eat before you can take these painkillers, little one, so what do you want first?”

She wanted to say the gummies but she knew better than to do so, even under the current circumstances. August cared about her health first and foremost. He would treat her to the candy only after giving her a minimum of nutritious food and would reward her all the more for making the decision herself.

“Berries please, Daddy.”

“Good girl, you even remembered to use your manners.”

He held a quartered strawberry to her lips which opened to accept the sweet fruit. August continued to hand feed her until he had deemed that she had eaten enough to take the medication without irritating her stomach.

“Do you want tea or water?”

“Tea, please.”

“Sit up more for me, Princess.”

She pushed herself upright, a task that seemed to demand all of her strength, then leaned half her weight against the headboard and the other half on his shoulder. Cupping the offered mug in both her hands, she took a sip before August placed the blue tablets on her tongue. When she had washed both down with a few sips of tea, August returned the mug to the nightstand.

“You did so good for me, Princess,” August whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “How about we spend the rest of the day in bed and watch a movie?”

She nodded weakly, her eyes already falling shut. He had barely tucked them both under the covers and turned on the television before her breathing switched to a slow, steady rhythm. At some point she had abandoned the manatee in favor of wrapping herself around his arm again but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He used his left hand to select a nature documentary from his saved titles and lowered the sound nearly all the way. He had grown used to reading the subtitles but his Princess always slept better with a bit of noise in the background.

August only hoped that when she woke up she wouldn’t go back to being hesitant or embarrassed about giving up total control. And if she did, well, he would just have to keep proving to her that she could always trust him to take care of her to the best of his abilities until she fully submitted herself to him. He couldn't wait until that day finally came.

[veronicaphoenix]

IKIGAI (or A REASON FOR BEING) — CHAPTER THREE

"Lia plucked a few daisies she found magically growing through concrete and gifted them to Noah. Surrounded by the distant hum of city life, Lia and Noah gazed at each other, their innocent stares speaking volumes, reflecting the trust and the profound understanding they were building with each other. The world around them seemed to fade away for a moment as they existed in their own little bubble of happiness, five seconds that captured the essence of childhood and true friendship."

Chapter tags: growing up, parents' neglect, uncomfortable scene b/w an adult and a minor, implied alcohol and substance intake. | Word count: 1.8k | Cross posted on AO3. | Series masterpost. ✧.*

CHAPTER 3

Lia is 9. Noah is 10.

Cristina left early on Sunday morning, leaving Lia alone.

She had been sitting by the kitchen table eating her breakfast when Cristina closed the main door behind her without bothering to aim not even a single look and a good bye to her daughter. Lia, though stung by the lack of acknowledgment, showed no signs of distress. She simply continued eating her cereal. 

She was used to it by now. 

Finishing, Lia mechanically gathered the empty bowl and the spoon. With a detached sense of routine, she placed them in the sink, the clatter of porcelain on stainless steel echoing in the quiet kitchen. The mundane chore of washing up could wait.

Lia started to navigate the adventures of a Sunday on her own. Another one.

Pushing aside the thoughts of her mom, she decided to venture into the backyard. The neglected garden, a wild tangle of overgrown plants, was like a mirror of her own being, even though she was too small to notice that resemblance at the time.

With a tiny shovel and an old watering can, she stepped into the garden barefoot, saying hellos and asking how are yous to her friends the plants. She wished she could bring Noah home one day to show him everything she had there. It wasn’t as beautiful as his grandparents’ garden, but this was hers, and she loved it.

She was sure Noah would love it, too.

After a couple of hours there, she went back inside and took on the task of cleaning, something that Cristina didn’t seem to consider much necessary besides the occasional dusting and mopping.

As the day unfolded, Lia found solace in the pages of her favorite books. The characters became her companions, offering friendship in the absence of her mother’s presence and the fact that she knew the Sebastian’s household was empty, otherwise she would have definitely walked on her own to the house. Noah had told her on Friday, when they met at school, that he had to travel with his grandparents up north to visit some relative who was ill.  

In the afternoon, she curled up on the worn-out couch, losing herself in the glow of the tv. Cartoons became a temporary reprieve from the silence that echoed in the house and a source of joy. Her laughter filled the house, and the birds outside joined her their singing.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the room, Lia grabbed the thin book on her nightstand. It was the one that she had taken from Noah’s bookshelf last Monday after school. She had been inspecting his collection, curious, trying to read the names on all of them. She had picked up one called Planting the Wild Garden,liking the different drawings on the cover. Noah hadn’t read it yet, but he told her to take it home. She would probably enjoy it more than he would. In return, on the way back home accompanied by him and Hana, Lia plucked a few daisies she found magically growing through concrete and gifted them to Noah. Surrounded by the distant hum of city life, Lia and Noah gazed at each other, their innocent stares speaking volumes, reflecting the trust and the profound understanding they were building with each other. The world around them seemed to fade away for a moment as they existed in their own little bubble of happiness, five seconds that captured the essence of childhood and true friendship.

With her pjs on (merely an old t-shirt from her mother that reached her small thighs), Lia went back downstairs, humming to herself the same tune that she had hear Noah playing on the guitar repeatedly the past few months. Book in her hands, she entered the kitchen, put the book on the table, and moved towards the box of eggs that was kept in a corner on the counter, next to the roll of kitchen paper. She learnt how to fry eggs last year. Not because her mother taught her, but because she observed, she paid attention, and she dared to try it on her own when Cristina wasn’t around. Luckily, Lia had never set the house on fire.

Lia was trying to find joy in those simple pleasures, for she knew that if she didn’t make any effort, she would never be happy in that house, and she knew that people were supposed to be happy in their homes, right?

In the quietude, Lia would slowly discover a resilience that would become the foundation for her journey through the challenges life had in store for her, but sooner than later, she would also discover the consequences of everything. She would realize how fucked up life is, despite the beauty it contained, despite the good things, despite Noah and the warmth he brought to her life, and as she grew into a teenager and then into a woman, this resilience would prove to be both a shield and a double-edged sword, revealing its duality.

She sat alone at the dinner table. The soft glow of a lamp illuminated the room, casting a warm hue on the pages of the book. As she sat there, reading the book and eating a fried egg with two loafs of bread, her small legs swayed beneath the table. The sound of utensils against the plate accompanied the rustle of pages, creating a symphony of solitude that enveloped the room.

With the fictional world still dancing in her mind, Lia dutifully washed up. She reached for the book again when she finished, ready to finish the day immersed in a world different than hers, just as the evening took an unexpected turn.

From outside, two contrasting laughs echoed through the quiet house. Lia's ears perked up, and she hesitated, her small hand hovering over the book. The laughter approached, growing louder until the main door creaked open. In the doorway stood her mother, disheveled and unsteady, accompanied by a man whose laughter carried the heavy scent of alcohol and tobacco.

Both adults halted when they saw Lia by the kitchen door, a solitary tiny figure in the dimness of the house. Her mother remained silent, a heavy expression etched on her face, while the man, with bleary eyes, regarded Lia as if she were an unexpected curiosity.

"You didn't tell me you had a doll in the house. Where did this pretty thing come from?" the man uttered, his words carrying a strange mixture of mockery and curiosity.

Lia, sensing an unease in the air, clutched the book to her chest.

“From my vagina,” Cristina replied shamelessly with a laugh.

Lia, standing there with a mixture of confusion and disdain, shot a disapproving look at her mother.

"What a beautiful pair of eyes, my god. They're definitely not yours," the man continued, pointing towards Cristina, whose eyes were shot blooded. His gaze lingered on Lia, a little too intense for comfort.

"Yeah, well," Cristina replied, seemingly resentful of the attention her own daughter was receiving. The air thickened with unspoken complexities, and Lia couldn't help but feel like an unwitting pawn in a game she didn't understand.

"What's your name, sweetie?" He asked, his tone attempting a facade of friendliness that fell flat in the strained environment.

"It doesn't matter," Cristina interjected, her words cutting.

"I'm Steven. Aren't you gonna say hello, give me a hug, maybe?" he pressed, the false sense of joviality in his words failing to mask his intentions. His insistence on a hug echoed as a demand rather than a friendly invitation, and Lia sensed it.

Caught in the middle of this uncomfortable exchange, felt a mixture of confusion and resistance. Lia was being drawn into a situation she couldn't control, and she felt scared.

"No," Lia replied defiantly, her gaze unwavering. She asserted her boundaries, a small but significant act of resistance. She would have to get more and more used to it as she kept on growing.

"Whoa, she's cocky. Come on, let me give you a hug.”

His persistence became more unsettling.

"I don't want to," Lia stated firmly. The tension in the room escalated as her mother dismissed Lia's boundaries with a dismissive remark about politeness, deflecting attention from the real issues at hand.

"She's a brat, more lately. It's those friends she's got. Bad influence. School is a bad influence,"

As Steven approached, Lia's discomfort intensified. The overwhelming smell of alcohol and tobacco clung to him, creating an unwelcome atmosphere that surrounded Lia. Still clutching her book, felt a tremor of vulnerability as Steven invaded her personal space, leaving her yearning for the comfort and safety of her solitary moments with Noah's gift.

When Steven touched her shoulder, Lia froze. If she ran, would he go after her? Would her mom let him follow her, chase her? How much would she let him do?  These questions raced through Lia's mind as the man's arms wrapped around her. So Lia stood there, letting the man’s arms wrap around her. It was longer than any of the hugs she’d been given by Hana, so she was not sure if this was okay but it definitely didn’t feel okay, much less when the man started moving away slowly, keeping his cheek close to hers, and then nearly brushing his nose with hers.

His cheek brushed against hers, and Lia felt a shiver down her spine. The unsettling proximity heightened her unease, and when his lips pressed against her cheek, her skin prickled. An overwhelming urge to cry surged within her. All Lia wanted was to escape from that house, from those two strangers who should have been family and friends. She yearned for the solace found in the familiar laughter of Noah and the comforting presence of Hana. She wanted to hear Hana’s voice and feel Noah’s presence around, find his almond-shaped eyes looking at her from the distance and make a face to get her to laugh. 

“Do I have to start getting jealous or what?” Cristina’s voice showed her annoyance, but it also proved how her neglect extended beyond herself, reaching into the realm of motherhood. A child, innocent and undeserving, bore witness to a mother who was but a ghost of the caregiver she should have been.

Lia didn’t like Steven’s laugh. It echoed throughout the main floor of the house and it followed her as she raced upstairs to her bedroom, trying her best not to think at the way he looked at her bare legs and thighs, barely covered by her mother’s worn t-shirt.

She hid under her covers, holding Noah’s book to her chest, and it took her a while to fall asleep, the sounds coming from her mother’s bedroom disturbing her innocence, her entire childhood.

But when she finally managed to drift off, she did so wishing to meet Noah tomorrow and tell him everything that happened. Noah would make her feel better. He would squeeze her shoulder, tell her some jokes, and maybe give her homemade cookies by grandma.