#print me a house and home
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Fuchgenta??
#the tiny house i based my own blue print off of is for sale at 110000 across the country#if my ass weren't broke id hop on that and drive all the way over to get it#but also 110k for a tiny house on wheels is pretty outrageous especially when these things were originally marked at a cap of 65k#once upon a year now no one can afford them#i do want a home someday and I'm also finding I'm nomadic by nature#dream would be have a “home base” with land thats permanent#but as soon as winter comes i can pack up and move south or wherever is warmer for several months before returning#that would be great for minimizing fibro flares getting away from the cold#heck if remote work ends up getting me good money after i pay off a huge chunk of medical debt i wouldn't mind#being a digital nomad for a few months out of the year#go see people i like across the pond see pompeii see rome see ireland see spain see australia see japan#so many....#theres people that want to hear the pitter patter of tiny feet before they die#then theres me that wants to see all the cool ancient human things before it disappears or before i leave earth and go home#one of the few big fears i have is it wont happen in this life#but hey i didnt think i was gonna make it past 23 let alone make it to 32#i didnt think i was ever gonna get out of my abusive household and out of my old shitty life#but im here so who knows what could happen right?#not magenta or fuchsia but some other pink variation#i just need to roll out a pink color palette and start assigning emotions to them at this point ���#magenta is my vent word#fuchsia is my vent word for good things#idk wtf this is its a combo
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Applying to an apartment with little income and terrible credit score, in hopes that they'll be desperate enough to take me
#im not even getting my hopes up for this one folks#but this same company rook me when i had no rental history so maybe?#unlikely for the aforementioned piss poor income and credit score#im just praying they remember me feom when i used to rent from them and liked me enough then to take me again#the bathroom is not in the apartment btw#that's the wildest thing. like its a basic studio with a kitchen closet and main area#but you have to go across the hall. to the private bathroom#im hoping they realize that thats wild and give me the apartment#i neeeeed to leave my parents house. and i really miss that city the apartment is in#i wish there was a little essay section where i could tell the landlord how much i like the city#and that ill get a better job once i live there and my parents are going to pay my first month and security deposit#that would be nice#i applied knowing that i won't get it but also knowing that i cant get it if i dont try#mostly i just miss that city#there was a really nice coffee shop within walking distance of my apartment#(the apartment i applied to is next door to the building i used to live in so same area which is great)#but i didnt have wifi so i would go there a lot to do work. it was so cozy in the winter especially#and i went on a lot of walks. so i wiuld swing by there and grab a drink to sip on my walk#and it was literally within sight of a great lake. a literal great lakw of Michigan lol#i loved walking along the lake on a nice day. or a windy day and just watch the waves crash#and my favorite band is feom that city so i got to see so many of their performances. and theyre a small band so the most i ever paid#was $50 and that was for the vip package. i saw them for $10 once. and free once. and $50 for the vip#its a big art and music city and i love it so much. i miss it so fucking much and i regret leaving#but at least it made me realize that no other city is for me. that city is my home#oh and it was literally right next to a bug beautiful library that i loved to wander. i still have my library card from there#mostly used it to print stuff and you have to pay at the box next to the printer. and one time i forgot to pay. i still feel bad about that#but i dont want to reminisce too much cuz i know i wont get it#im trying to pay off my credit cards to bring up my credit score but its slow going#its much nearer my gf and all my friends so i would love to live near them. rn im hours away from about everyone i love#i ran out of tags. maybe pray for me if you pray? or just hope for me. i dont want to let myself want this but its there
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LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO
#i forgot how difficult it is to print out digital art nicely djdkdl#it did take me three tries... after i ran the printer thru its cleaning cycle twice dbhddkl#so much printer ink. ALAS. i have quite a bit from a couple yrs ago and idk how long it lasts so like... i probably should use it up anyway#but shfjdld hopefully i can figure out the settings a little faster next time LORD. everything just came out way too dark#it still is darker and not as vivid as I'd like but ... i think this is as good as it gets for a home job fjfkdl#I AM PLEASED NONETHELESS!#i can add Guz to my secret wall of fandom dhdjdl i have mk up there and my paper mache dca masks already#its abt time i got my mans up there too fjfkdl#(i say secret wall bc it is hidden away from where anyone in the house can see it fjfkdl i have a curtain blocking it LMAO)#maybe one day if im able to i will have these printed out all niceys but fjfkdl for now this is what i will be pleased with :]#dandy.cmd
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My college keeps sending emails that are like "We're trying to contact you for the alumni verification process" but in order to be verified you have to 1) call them 2) during office hours. Office hours are 9-4 M-F. I work during those hours. I work before and after those hours. Even if I left early or arrived late I would be working during those hours. You see the problem.
#chit chat#'call during lunch!' nah#half my job is taking phone calls im not gonna voluntarily give up my free time so some random college person can interrogate me#they call it an 'alumni interview' but it's gonna be like an hour long conversation about what im doing now#and they'll want me to talk about how the university helped me so much so they can put my words in their flyers#and tbh i don't remember much good about that place. i remember how many of their admin decisions pissed me off#i graduated the covid year#they sent us all home and refused to give us any kind of refund on housing despite being unable to use it#and basically told everyone that if they couldn’t afford to write that loss off in these unprecedented times maybe they shouldn't go there#so#i don't have a lot of kind words to be printed in flyers
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Halloween in "mid" June ✨🎃✨
#dyed hair#black and white stripes#care bears#care bears lover#goth#goth house#gothique#halloween countdown#pastel goth#halloween#spoky halloween#halloween in mid june#goth girl#waiting for autumn#autumn hair#halloween print pijamas#pijama#halloween pijama#hello it's me#home sweet and haunted home
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why do you gotta tell me the same thing THRICE if it's still not out for delivery!!
#leo.txt#it's EXACTLY 15 kilometers away from my home by car! i checked!!!!!! you are so unserious i swear to god#fedex denmark do you not deliver on thursdays or fridays??? hm???? im pretty sure you do??????????????#like come on im this close to just walking out to your storage facility and pick it up by myself! and i'm a lazy asshole with adhd!!!!#denmark is so teeny tiny you could just like THROW THE THING and ill catch it with my mouth like a dog with a frisbee ITS NOT THAT HARD#this package is essential to my life! not really! but you ARE actively killing and murdering me and kicking me in the nuts by withholding i#and yknow what????? you guys don't even deliver it to my house half the time anyway!!! you just get confused because theres 2 doors#and youre like 'lol whatever not my problem' and send it to the kiosk instead!#BUT you never even send it to the NEAREST KIOSK THAT'S LIKE 2 SECONDS AWAY#you ALWAYS send it to the one that's WAYYYYY FURTHER AWAY FOR SOME REASON#what did the other poor storeowner do to you??? why do you hate and mistreat both of us so? isn't life hard enough as it is?#we literally PRINTED OUT A SIGN and TAPED IT TO THE GLASS OF /BOTH FRONT DOORS/#with INSTRUCTIONS FOR MAILMEN#telling you that if the package is too big to fit in the mailbox to the rightmost entrance#then just CALL THE DOORPHONE and you'll immediately be let inside#so you can leave it in the entrance!!!!#WE MADE YOU A SIGN! IT'S FOR YOU!!!! THAT WAS SO NICE OF US#and yet you still just leave us in the dust (THE DUST???) (the DUST.......)#and whenever one of my packages gets sent to the kiosk anyway IT OFTEN TAKES SEVERAL DAYS FOR MY LETTER OF NOTICE TO ARRIVE#/AS A PHYSICAL PAPER LETTER. IN THE MAIL. BY YOU/#LITERALLY 1984#SEND POST
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IRL photos jumpscare
#Seven’s Selfies#my face#well not really but. my eyes and forehead at least#parting my hair down the middle is nice until i realize that it frames my forehead like that#u could advertise smthn on that thing#anyways it feels like it’s been forever since i last posted any pics of myself on here. because it has#so why not post some low-quality and low-effort selfies of my exhausted self after getting home from urgent care the other day!!!#ignore the way i’m strategically posed to hide the cleaning products on the floor in the corner. i am too lazy to move them#so i shall hide them with my hips#these r the shittiest selfies i have ever posted but this is my blog this is my HOUSE i can do what i want#u can tell that i dressed for comfort cause i am not looking very put together here am i#it was a palazzo pants gymshark crop top and oversized hand-me-down flannel kinda day okay#and yes those r the moon print pants and pointy-toe boots that MC wears in ch.1-5 of Everything Stays. i wear them embarrassingly often#cause they’re comfy and i like the way they look
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my mom can't budget her paychecks and keeps asking me for rent earlier and earlier in the month. I'm never getting enough fucking money for this stupid car :/
#all this to live in a home where i babysit dogs that arent mine and can hear my moms tv thru the whole house#im not even there most of the time bc they all annoy me so much. watch your own dog!!! print your own papers!!!! i have a fucking job
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@love-and-pigeons!
I got my boyfriend two mice eating pizza and just put it in their cabinet without telling them
#i'm in tears i LOVE this#shenanigans with bertya once he discovers 3d printing 🐭🍕🐭 now idk about you but i would love those two mice eating pizza#i would truly display this in my house and home i hope this delights you as much as it delighted me this fine morning#🥰💖🥰💖🥰💖🥰💖🥰💖#hope you're doing okay and feeling alright my dearest#love you lots 💖💖💖💖💖#rat#rodent
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the older I get, the more the technological changes I've lived through as a millennial feel bizarre to me. we had computers in my primary school classroom; I first learned to type on a typewriter. I had a cellphone as a teenager, but still needed a physical train timetable. my parents listened to LP records when I was growing up; meanwhile, my childhood cassette tape collection became a CD collection, until I started downloading mp3s on kazaa over our 56k modem internet connection to play in winamp on my desktop computer, and now my laptop doesn't even have a disc tray. I used to save my word documents on floppy discs. I grew up using the rotary phone at my grandparents' house and our wall-connected landline; my mother's first cellphone was so big, we called it The Brick. I once took my desktop computer - monitor, tower and all - on the train to attend a LAN party at a friend's house where we had to connect to the internet with physical cables to play together, and where one friend's massive CRT monitor wouldn't fit on any available table. as kids, we used to make concertina caterpillars in class with the punctured and perforated paper strips that were left over whenever anything was printed on the room's dot matrix printer, which was outdated by the time I was in high school. VHS tapes became DVDs, and you could still rent both at the local video store when I was first married, but those shops all died out within the next six years. my facebook account predates the iphone camera - I used to carry around a separate digital camera and manually upload photos to the computer in order to post them; there are rolls of undeveloped film from my childhood still in envelopes from the chemist's in my childhood photo albums. I have a photo album from my wedding, but no physical albums of my child; by then, we were all posting online, and now that's a decade's worth of pictures I'd have to sort through manually in order to create one. there are video games I tell my son about but can't ever show him because the consoles they used to run on are all obsolete and the games were never remastered for the new ones that don't have the requisite backwards compatibility. I used to have a walkman for car trips as a kid; then I had a discman and a plastic hardshell case of CDs to carry around as a teenager; later, a friend gave my husband and I engraved matching ipods as a wedding present, and we used them both until they stopped working; now they're obsolete. today I texted my mother, who was born in 1950, a tiktok upload of an instructional video for girls from 1956 on how to look after their hair and nails and fold their clothes. my father was born four years after the invention of colour televison; he worked in radio and print journalism, and in the years before his health declined, even though he logically understood that newspapers existed online, he would clip out articles from the physical paper, put them in an envelope and mail them to me overseas if he wanted me to read them. and now I hold the world in a glass-faced rectangle, and I have access to everything and ownership of nothing, and everything I write online can potentially be wiped out at the drop of a hat by the ego of an idiot manchild billionaire. as a child, I wore a watch, but like most of my generation, I stopped when cellphones started telling us the time and they became redundant. now, my son wears a smartwatch so we can call him home from playing in the neighbourhood park, and there's a tanline on his wrist ike the one I haven't had since the age of fifteen. and I wonder: what will 2030 look like?
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adding onto the wild ups and downs of the day i just spent an hour wandering outside in slides and a sweatshirt because my mother decided that the best way to deal with an argument was to leave the car and walk around without her phone and hope her famously horrible sense of direction didnt prevent her from getting home. my stepdad called me because hed tried to go after her and fucking went into a-fib so i drove out to the car and tracked her footprints through the fucking snow- at midnight!!!- a solid half mile while my stepdad drove around trying to find her
#i think i walked half a mile or so#which doesnt seem too bad except that i was not dressed for the weather and also didnt think to bring my fucking inhaler with me#and then when we found her she was mad at my stepdad for calling me#like sorry im worried you cant find your way home when you have a notoriously horrible sense of direction and are super pissed off#so like probably not super paying attention to where youre going#she was all 'i was just walking home nbd' but like i was following her tracks i know she got turned around and backtracked#saved me some time tbh because i recognized the prints going back the way they came so i didnt have to follow clear til she turned around#so fucking pissed off rn yall have no idea#this is shit she got mad at me for doing when i was like. seven#like i get being pissed off but god just wait five minutes and then you can storm off into the house from the garage#without wandering around for an hour in freezing temperatures with a questionable sense of direction and no phone#ive almost talked myself into staging a fucking intervention istg#and now shes driven off somewhere so we dont know where she is /again/#but hey shes got her phone and a source of heat so whatever#brb gonna go make some hot chocolate#hopefully it doesnt cool down too much before she gets back#fucking hell
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cant believe this shit is just available to the public now
#thank you so much moot I dont have a printer at home but I have a library near my house that prints at 12 pesos each page and I can do that#I was actually looking trough sites that would print stickers and those are like 1500 pesos per pack that is too much#im not sure if usual libraries accept label paper but im sure they will#if they dont ill just print it and put tape on it thats fine too#you saved me 1500 pesos
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365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 359
Adjective: Absurd
Noun: Invitation
Definitions for those who need/want them:
Absurd: wildly unreasonable, illogical, or inappropriate; arousing amusement or derision, or ridiculous
Invitation: a written or verbal request inviting someone to go somewhere or to do something; the action of inviting someone to go somewhere or to do something; a situation or action that tempts someone to do something or makes a particular outcome likely
#so im a few hours late#no big surprise there#my girlfriend and i have been busy (as mentioned before in my other prompts)#we actually went to go see my family and spent time with them for the holidays#we drove over to see my cousin and his wife and their kid#and then we went to the house to spend time with my parents and exchange gifts and watch home alone and eat dinner#it was lots of fun#(and we got lots of lovely gifts from my parents including a big framed photo of when my girlfriend and i moved into our apartment)#then my girlfriend and i exchanged our gifts and they seemed to love the gifts i got them#and i love the gifts they got me#(a video game ive been wanting for years and a couple of beautiful prints and art prompt dice and a dvd of one of my favourite movies)#and we actually played a couple of board games we got recently#so i would say we had a pretty wonderful day#as the prompt i think its interesting cos there is a lot to play around with in terms of the definitions and interpretations of the words#im particularly interested in figuring out the how/why of the 'absurd' aspect#cos i dont quite have that pinned down just yet#same goes for the purpose of the 'invitation'#but im really looking forward to figuring that stuff with time#thanks for reading#writing#writer#creative writing#writing prompt#writeblr#trying to be a writeblr at least#*as for the prompt#*stuff out with
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youtube
NOAHFINNCE - LIFE'S A BIT
#MUSINGS ➽➽➽#PLAYLIST ➽➽➽#And If You Get In My Face Then You’ll Get A Taste Even God Would Run Son (ναℓєитιиσ)#You Could Kill Me And You Should (Valentino 💔 Alastor)#I Think Love Creeps Up On You (Valentino ♡ Vox ♡ Velvette ♡ Alastor ♡ Lucifer ♡ Lilith ♡ Vick)#Don’t Wanna Take It Slow I Wanna Take You Home (Erasmo ♡ Trenton)#And When His Edges Soften His Body Is My Coffin (Valentino ♡ Vox)#You Have This Power Over Me And There’s No Way To Fight It (Valentino ♡ Kerosene)#Sometimes I Wonder Why I Need You At All (Valentino ♡ Angel Dust)#This Is A Force That Not Even God Can Stop (Valentino ♡ Lucifer)#Catch Me If You Can With A Cigarette In Hand And It’s Love It’s Heavy And It Hurts And It’s Love (Valentino ♡ Vox)#I’ll Be Your Favorite Tune (Valentino ♡ Vox)#Does This Party Of Two Leave You Slightly Confused? (Valentino ♡ Nifty)#Can’t Get The Paw Prints Out Of The Hen House Now (Valentino ♡ Summer)#Demolition Of A Delicate Kind (Valentino ♡ Millie)#You Look So Cute Flashing Lights Red And Blue (Valentino ♡ Gritt)#I Don’t Care If I’m A Guilty Pleasure For You (Valentino ♡ Vox)#I’m Just A Holy Fool And Baby He’s So Cruel (Valentino ♡ Mayleene)#All My Dirty Thoughts Lead Me To You (Valentino ♡ Angel Dust)#You’ll Fall Down A Hole That’s The One Place In This World That We Both Know (Valentino 💔 Ostello)#Youtube
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a/n: surprise! here’s a little somethin’ while i work on my next fics. mwah mwah happy saturday!
cw: 18+ as always, minors dni. sub!ellie, dom!reader, oral sex (e receiving), choking, tribbing, some…controlling aspects, multiple orgasms
ellie’s got it bad for you.
so bad, she doesn’t have it in her to be embarrassed when jesse and dina catch her staring at you in the middle of band practice, eyes glazed over, nodding along with whatever they’re saying even when she’s got nothing in her head but you you you.
it’s frustrating sometimes, what you do to her. she’s less efficient as a songwriter and guitar player—always casting glances at you in the middle of practice, chewing her lip till it damn near bleeds because it’ll keep her from making a mess of her boxer briefs. always picturing your pretty lips around her strap, you kneeling before her while she face-fucks you till you gag and choke. always tilting her head when you stand up from your seat beside her, going off to rifle through your purse for something, just praying she’ll get a glimpse at your panties when your skirt rides up.
when the rest of the band filters out and it’s just you two, she gets you in her lap, kissing you silly. you’re so perfect in her arms, smiling shyly when she pulls back and covers your face in chaste, adoring kisses.
“we should go,” you say, glancing at the clock on the wall. she frowns and you catch it, adding, “i really need to study, finals are next week.”
“you’re gonna kill ‘em, babe,” she assures you, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. your cheeks go pink. she could eat you whole. “smartest girl i know. smartest person, actually.”
you giggle, a sound that makes ellie’s stomach flip. and then your expression shifts from carefree to hesitant, and she furrows her brows. “what’s wrong?”
“nothing, i’m sorry—i was gonna ask if you wanted to help me study? i have flash cards.”
ellie grins. “i can do flash cards.”
it’s not the first time ellie’s been at your house, but it is the first time she’s pulled into the driveway and noticed that your parents aren’t home. she casts a glance at you in the passenger’s seat while she pulls the keys from the ignition, but if you notice that she’s wondering about the lack of two mercedes in the driveway, you don’t let on. you give her one of those sickeningly sweet smiles and her heart hammers.
inside, you stop in the kitchen to fix a couple glasses of pink lemonade with twisty straws and fresh lemon slices, then lead her up the stairs to your bedroom. ellie tries (and fails) to avert her eyes from the place where your thigh-highs squish into the meat of your legs, the skin pooling out of the fabric good enough to eat. she has to think about the worst things to keep her cunt from throbbing. dead puppies, shit like that.
“i’m so stressed,” you confess as you open the door to your bedroom, ellie striding in behind you.
“why, princess? you’ll do great.” she takes her glass of lemonade when you offer it, sips from the straw and beams at you.
your room suits you perfectly. all shades of white and pink, floral print everywhere, heart-shaped pillows, cute bunny plushies organized carefully on the bed. it smells like sugar cookies and your perfume. ellie watches you locate your study materials, then sort through them till you find the necessary flash cards. she starts looking through them while you climb onto the bed, your skirt riding up to expose a new sliver of your thighs. if there is a god, he’s got it out for ellie today.
“come here, el,” you pout, holding out your hands for her.
“don’t be impatient, now.” she joins you on the bed despite her better judgment. looks down at the flash cards and struggles to read the first one because her blood is rushing south at a dizzying rate.
“uh—eukaryotic cells.”
“cells which have a nucleus enclosed within the nuclear membrane.”
ellie gapes at you. “okay, smarty pants, you got it. prokaryotic cells?”
you answer and she shuffles through to the next card, continuing to prompt your spot-on definitions until it becomes clear that you’re more than ready for your final. it only takes five minutes to make it through the entire stack of cards. and then you’re asking her to kiss you.
“baby,” she mutters, leaning over the side of the bed to set the flash cards onto the floor, “i’ve been waiting for you to ask.”
just like every other time, your mouth tastes like heaven. sweet from the pink lemonade, your tongue dances over hers, soft moans leaving your lips for her to swallow eagerly. the two of you have made out more times than ellie can count on both hands, but it never leads any further. something always comes up—you have to get to bed, dinner’s ready downstairs, things like that. more often than not, you stop because ellie feels like she’s going to lose control of herself and scare you away.
but this time, it’s different.
your hands, soft and warm, skate up ellie’s tattooed arms. your perfectly manicured nails rake through her hair. your eyes are blown nearly black with lust when you pull away, staring up at ellie like you’re silently begging to be fucked.
“ellie,” you whisper, frustrated by the sliver of mattress that separates the two of you.
“yeah, yeah, angel, i’ve got you.” she closes the gap, climbing between your spread legs until she’s hovering over you. she nudges her nose against your cheekbone. “so pretty underneath me.”
and god, you are so pretty underneath her. white off-the-shoulder top skewed from her touches, lips swollen, soft locks of hair splayed around your head. that look in your eyes that says i’m yours, please take me. she wants to hear you scream her name.
the lewd, wet sounds of your make-out sesh go right to her cunt; she doesn’t even realize she’s grinding down against you until she feels your hips move in response, in search of friction. the sensation draws a ragged moan from her, and then she’s grabbing at your thighs with a touch that will certainly bruise. you won’t be wearing a skirt this short tomorrow.
“take this off,” you breathe when you pull back from the heated kiss. you’re tugging at her tattered band tee. “and your pants.”
a surprised huff of laughter leaves her lips. “whoa there, sweetheart. you sure?”
her eyes find yours. she’s just as turned on as you are, but she can still stop while she’s ahead. now, if you get her down to her boxers? that might not be so easy to come back from.
you stare back at her, unblinking. “i’m sure.”
sitting back on her heels, ellie keeps her eyes on you while she works her shirt up over her head. she revels in the way your eyes leave hers, only to admire the sight of her naked torso, her ample tits with dusty rose nipples. your tongue swipes over your lips. her clit twitches.
she has to get up to take her pants off, and when she does, she notices that you’re not making any efforts to undress yourself. she stops with her belt unbuckled, button undone, zipper pulled down. “what, i don’t get to see my girl naked?”
“only if you’re good,” you say with a wicked smile. it catches her off guard, hearing a comment like that from you, but it does encourage her to push her jeans down to her ankles.
when she gets back on the bed and kisses you again, you’re not as soft. not as pliable, like putty in her hands. no, you’re insistent—your tongue breaches her mouth almost instantly and you lick into her until he’s nearly panting. you’re sitting up in your disheveled clothing, holding her face and kissing her like you’re going to swallow her whole. given the fact that you’re usually the one on the receiving end of kisses like this, ellie’s surprised. she breaks the kiss and gives you a look - one you feign ignorance to.
“i’m—sorry, am i reading this wrong? i thought… aren’t you a virgin?”
you smile at her, eyes heavy-lidded. “oh, ellie, baby.”
the way you sound makes her go dizzy for a second. sultry, raspy, sexy. your voice must’ve dropped a couple octaves. you’re not a virgin, she suddenly realizes, not even close. not when you’re dipping your head into her neck and smothering her with hot, wet kisses, your hand moving to grope at the wet spot soaking through the thin fabric of her boxers, fingertips tracing heavy over the outline of her pussy. a moan leaves her lips before she can think to stifle it. worse, she bucks her hips up to chase your touch.
you suck your teeth. disapproving.
“eager, aren’t you?” you move to climb off the bed, kneeling beside it. the sensation of your fingers, skating right over the waistband of her boxers, makes her whimper. she whimpers.
“baby, you’re killing me,” she chokes out. you run a french-tipped nail over her sparse happy trail. she bites her lip.
“i know,” you respond, and your voice is still sickly sweet. “but i’ll take care of you, el. don’t you want that?”
she’s not sure what that means exactly, but she finds herself nodding quickly.
turns out that it means eating her pussy like a fucking porn star.
you’d ripped off her boxers in one swift motion, then spit a glob of saliva onto her flushed, aching clit. wasting no time at all, you’d slid your fingers through her cunt with the lubrication of your own spit, and finally, when she didn’t think it could get better, you’d put your mouth on her. and that’s what it’s been like for the past few minutes. you’re tongue-fucking her now, face buried so deep between her legs she can’t imagine how you’re not gasping and sputtering for air.
“jesus christ, babe,” she gasps, involuntarily thrusting her hips up. your tongue pushes further into the constricting heat of her cunt and she throws her head back, overcome with bliss. but then you’re pulling back, mouth leaving her soaked pussy. the loss makes her whine again.
“wh—what happened?” she’s dazed.
“you’re being a fucking brat,” you respond as you rub a hand over your mouth to wipe away the wetness. “can’t just let me eat you out, huh? have to push it. god, ellie.”
you sound genuinely pissed off, so she flushes red with embarrassment and gives you an apologetic look. “i’m so sorry, i couldn’t—”
“—couldn’t control yourself?”
she stares, mouth hanging open. you laugh, a humorless chuckle. and then you’re standing up, reaching under your skirt to slide your panties down your thighs.
“listen, baby,” you say as you step out of your underwear and move to straddle your girlfriend’s thighs. “if we’re gonna fuck, you need to learn how to control yourself. be a good girl for me. can you do that?”
in all of her daydreams about your first time having sex as a couple, she’d never imagined this.
“yes,” she hears herself say. “i can do that.”
“do what?”
“i can…” ellie’s cunt weeps another rush of wetness. “i can be a good girl.”
satisfied, you reach down to swipe your fingers through her folds—still sticky and wet from your unfinished head. “when i ride you, i don’t want to hear a sound. okay?”
“o-okay.” she’d agree to anything at this point. she’s under a trance. your rose-scented, strawberry-flavored hypnotism.
when you finally slide into a comfortable position, bare, soaked cunts sliding against one another, she bites her tongue so hard she swears she tastes blood. a strangled, ragged sigh leaves her nose, nostrils flaring as you lift your hips and move them back again. you’re wet, soft, and skilled with your hips. everything she’s dreamed of and more. she wants to moan your name, but the way you’re looking at her, like a siren ready to drag her underwater, it keeps her from making a single fucking peep. she lets you take what you need, content to stare in awe as your tits bounce beneath your pristine white shirt.
“doing so well for me,” you praise, hips circulating in a good rhythm now. “you can talk, baby—tell me, how’s my pussy feel?”
“fuuuuck,” she practically wails, “you’re so good, god, feels s’fucking good.”
“mm,” you hum. you’ve found a rotation to hit a spot that fills you with white-hot pleasure, and each time you lift your hips and rub against her again, you feel yourself getting closer and closer to an orgasm. “your cunt feels good, el. might come soon, would you like that?”
she nods. you can feel her hips twitch, like she’s dying to fuck herself up against you, but you’re so close to the edge that you don’t have it in you to chastise her. you do, however, have it in you to tell her, “beg for my cum, then. be a good girl, you said you’d be a good girl.”
“please,” she gasps, feeling your cunt twitch against hers, “please, baby, need your cum.”
she’s getting close too, so she doesn’t feel embarrassed that you’ve got her whining, desperate for you to cream all over her. it’s hot, actually, the fact that she’s begging for you. her sweet, innocent little girlfriend, giving her the ride of her life and making her beg for you. she’d never considered this. stupid of her.
emboldened by her impending orgasm, ellie reaches for one of your hands and moves it from her shoulder to her throat. her eyes are wide and pleading when you look down at her. relief overcomes her features when you adjust your grip and then squeeze, her pulse thudding beneath your fingertips.
this is new for her. it’s all new for her. but when you come with your hand around her throat and your cunt sliding, drenched, against hers, she can’t help but scold herself internally for not doing this sooner. you don’t whimper or cry when you come, but you do say her name, drawing it out in that low, gravelly voice of yours that she hadn’t heard until today. and that’s enough for her to reach her own high, coming with a ragged groan. a mistake that she doesn’t process until she’s spent, panting, still dizzy with the fading pleasure that leaves her in waves.
you’ve gone still on top of her.
she looks at you and finds your expression displeased.
“i’m—shit, i’m so sorry. i’m so sorry, sweetheart, I really wasn’t thinking.”
“i can tell,” you say, voice flat. she moves to lift you from her lap, intending to get up and clean you both up, but you swat her hands away. “did i say we’re done?”
she stutters for a second before she can get out real words. “no, you…didn’t.”
“i can tell you’re going to be a tough one,” you sigh, “but you’ll learn.”
and with that, you start moving your hips again. the overstimulation on ellie’s still-sensitive clit makes her jolt, but one pointed look from you has her going still again. your hips form slow, narrow circles. cum seeps out of your cunt and leaks down onto hers.
after an agonizing minute or two, the pain of overstimulation melts into pleasure. you notice ellie’s expression change, a wrinkle forming between her brows again.
“there’s a good girl.” your praise is music to her ears. her lips open to allow her to breathe as heavy as she needs to, heaving gasps that go straight to your sopping cunt. you gush even wetter.
“mmph, fuck,” ellie groans. she shoots a worried glance up at your domineering face, but when she finds that you’re gazing down at her with unbridled lust in your eyes, she relaxes again.
“you can make as much noise as you want now, pretty girl,” you assure her. “i wanna hear how good i make you feel. even when you’ve—mm, even when you’ve been a bad girl. and you don’t deserve it.”
if she weren’t already turned on again, she is now. you start to ride her in earnest again, fucking down onto her in a rhythm that has the entire room ringing out with sounds of skin slapping against skin. she grabs your hips to hold herself steady, but then you push her shoulders until she falls back onto the mattress. your hands grab her wrists, and she’s entirely unsurprised when you pin them above her head and ride her faster, harder—she’s unsurprised, but it still makes her cry out in pleasure.
“baby, i need you to apologize,” you coo down at ellie as you continue your relentless riding.
“h-huh?”
“apologize for coming without permission,” you clarify, voice just a little strained.
“oh,” ellie says. her brows are pulled together; her face is all twisted up in an absolutely sinful expression, one that makes your cunt feel impossibly wetter. “i’m sorry, babe, i already said sorry.”
“then say it again, if i tell you to.” you lift your hips until you’re barely touching her, and when she starts to sputter pathetic, whiny apologies in an endless stream, you drop your greedy cunt back onto hers.
“you really are a brat,” you tell her. it’s getting harder to talk to her like this, straight-faced and patronizing, because you’re getting close again. but you steel yourself and go on. “such a bad girl, what should i do with you, hm?”
“anything,” ellie blabbers, wrists flexing in your grasp, “i’ll do anything—i’ll let you do anything to me.”
“oh?” you smile, still gasping lungfuls of air, exhausted but chasing your second climax. you lean forward and lick along the angle of ellie’s jaw, up up up to her ear. she shivers violently as you whisper, “you’d let me fuck your tight little hole?”
you can’t see her face with your mouth against her neck, kissing and sucking and biting at her sensitive skin, but you imagine that she looks shocked. and you don’t blame her. you’ve got your good girl act down, you have for years. and ellie fell for it, bless her heart. she probably thought this would go differently; probably imagined she’d be the one overstimulating you and making you whine and beg and whimper, shaking like a leaf as you near another orgasm. but here you are.
and you’re glad she so obviously likes it.
“yes,” ellie hisses through her teeth. “yes, yes, i’d—you could fuck me, whatever you want.”
“bet you’d love it,” you tell her honestly. “you’d love having your pretty pussy stuffed with my cock, wouldn’t you?”
you’re practically dripping sweat at this point from the exertion of tribbing, clothes clinging to your body with perspiration. under your skirt, ellie’s pelvis is drenched with sex.
“yessssss,” she cries out, eyes squeezing shut. “i’d l-love it, yes, fuck…”
“are you gonna come for me, pretty girl? you can—you’ve already made such a mess.”
she’s nodding, gasping. crying, even. you don’t notice until she sniffles, drawing your attention to her reddened face. her cheeks shine with tears. you coo a gentle good girl at her and she lets a high moan loose.
“come, el. come for me.”
she doesn’t need much encouragement, she really doesn’t, but your command pushes her over the edge. coming with a cry that nearly tears her throat apart, she shakes and shivers in your hold until you finally let up and slow your rolling hips. ellie looks so beautiful when she comes, and right after, too. dazed, pussy drunk, eyes foggy. lips chewed raw. tears still wet at the corners of her eyes.
“you didn’t come again,” she points out. she sounds so small.
“i know,” you agree. “but you can fix that, sweet girl.”
finally releasing her wrists from your grip, you roll onto the bed beside her on your back. you reach a hand between your legs and swipe your fingers through the puffy folds of your cunt, releasing a satisfied hum when you feel how soaked you are.
you’re surprised when you look up and find her already making her way between your legs, eyes glued to your pussy.
“i can fix it,” she repeats. “can i taste you?”
“oh, ellie,” you say, “i knew you’d be a good girl. go ahead.”
#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie williams smut#ellie williams tlou#ellie smut#ellie fanfic#ellie x reader#ellie the last of us#ellie williams#ellie x fem reader#ellie tlou#sub!ellie#ellie x reader fic#ellie x you#ellie willams x reader#ellie x reader smut#ellie x y/n#ellie williams x you#ellie williams fic#my writing#sub!ellie williams
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MOB who has to stay with Johnny at his house while Simon is away on a solo mission? Like as a preventive measure, Simon has them both together in case soemthing happens to him while he’s away?
mail-order bride
"i...simon, i just don't--"
"just do it," simon murmurs. you quiet immediately, a little caught off-guard. simon has never interrupted you; even when you're a babbling mess, simon lets you finish your garbled sentences. he waits until your voice quiets, until your mouth closes, before he ever speaks to you, but this time, his tone is firm, and there is no room for interpretation. when you meet his eyes, simon is more than serious. "i don't ask ya for anythin', swee'eart. but this..." he reaches out for you, and you step closer instinctively, and when he cups your face in both hands, you can't help but melt. he leans his forehead against yours, and you close your eyes when you see the very subtle tremble of his lips. "do this fer me. only thing i'll ever ask of ya. i swear it."
you take a deep breath to center yourself. one of his hands wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you just that much closer, and you wait until your lips brush against his before you answer him.
"i...i have to go?"
"few days. tha's it."
"well, i...well, okay."
it's quiet up north. the weather dampens the entire coastline, what you can see of it, and the air tastes like salt. it was in your mouth as soon as you stepped off the train, and it only got stronger the closer you got to the cottage.
as soon as you step out of the car, you're greeted by the most quaint little house on a hill. there's vines climbing up the sides of it, wrapping around wooden structures and carving out a perfectly quaint home tucked amongst scottish greenery. it's breathtaking here; it's so quiet, and the way that you're allowed to breathe up here is unlike anywhere else you've ever been.
the meows coming from your backpack are the only thing that bring you back to earth.
"just inside, lass," a low voice calls behind you. "supper's 'bout ready now."
when johnny closes the door behind you, you're mesmerized by the coziness inside. his house is filled with warmth. there's plaid curtains pulled back from a stained-glass window, allowing in soft colors of light. the couches in his living room have throw pillows and blankets of mismatched linen and velvet, and his walls are filled with pictures and hanging green plants. there's candles burning, and the television is still playing some reruns of old rugby games.
the wood detail is exquisite. the staircase has little carvings of scottish motifs and flowers, winding up another wall of photos. the pictures are old and new, all of laughing people with johnny's big smile or his bright blue eyes or wearing the same plaid pattern as the fabric that you saw hanging in the closet.
a green kettle. a cross above the mantle with a psalm printed on it. a sketch on the coffee table (a skull, with a stub of a charcoal pencil still laying over it). rosaries hanging over a wedding photo with johnny in the background, holding up bunny ears. a wooden bowl of oranges (and oranges only).
"said ye'd be 'ere fer some time, tha' ye like ta bake. got some things fer ye at the shops."
you set your backpack down, opening the clear window of it, and two little cats hop out immediately. johnny raises a brow as he makes eye contact immediately with the orange tabby, a wicked grin coming over his face.
"i remember ye, ye little shite."
"what?" you laugh, and johnny shakes his head.
"nothin'."
it's late when he notices you looking out the window. the cats are curled up on opposite ends of the couch, in deep sleep after johnny gave them each a salmon dinner (and you pretended not to notice seeing the extensive recipe sheet that only your husband could have made on his phone). your eyes are on the sky; you can see so much of it here, twinkly stars and all.
"'m sorry ye have ta be here," johnny says lowly, soft enough that you aren't startled. you don't look away from the window, leaning your chin on the edge of the couch as you wonder if simon is looking at the same star you can't seem to lose. it's brighter than the rest, and it flickers to a rhythm that feels oddly comforting.
"it's not your fault, johnny," you assure him softly, and you turn away from the window finally to find him seated on the carpet, scratching the orange cat behind the ears. "he wouldn't...he wouldn't take no for an answer. not...not this time."
you frown a little, smoothing your right hand over your left, and your heart drops a little in your chest when the sparkle of your wedding ring matches the sparkle of your star.
"i've been staying home alone all this time," you continue, shaking your head. "and all of the sudden...a-all of the sudden he doesn't trust me?"
"oh, love..." johnny sighs, clicking his tongue. "tha' is...'s nae wot it is, i swear it."
"i...it's not...it's not me, right?" you ask in a whisper, meeting his eyes finally. "simon and i...w-we're doing so well..."
the expression that passes over his face is a sad one. it unnerves you to see it; johnny is someone that just isn't meant to be sad. his house is filled with so much love and so much life, and you swear you don't even recognize him anymore because he's void of a smile altogether.
"ye seen the pictures?"
you know immediately what johnny is talking about. you saw them the very first night you stayed in your shared home. across your house, there are a few picture frames covered with fabric or face-down on whichever surface they rest on. when you glimpsed at them, you peeked behind the curtain of a life that simon has that you don't know. even now, you have never felt strong enough to ask him about them.
it isn't because you think simon won't tell you; you're afraid to ask. you're afraid of who they are, what they are to him, and why he's never told you their names or introduced them to you. they exist in a separate place, and you don't know why, and when you saw him holding that baby--
you shake your head finally.
"i...i can't."
johnny hums low, looking down. he smooths his hands down his jeans.
"neither can he."
you close your eyes, but not fast enough. there's a few tears that fall down the curve of your cheek.
"when...when did--?"
"will be another year in a few days."
your lip shakes, and you take in a stuttered breath. you did not believe it possible to love simon any more than you already do, but it aches, that place in your chest that is reserved just for him. it hurts, in the worst and most incredible way, and you never want him to know another day without hearing you tell him how much you love him.
when simon comes to get you, just a week later, you're sitting under a sycamore tree at sunset. it's never been more quiet inside of your head, and when he takes a seat beside you, you say nothing for a few minutes.
simon thinks maybe you're angry for a moment, but then your hand reaches over to take his, and then you're scooting closer, until you drape yourself over his arm and bury your face into the side of his neck.
"i'm not going anywhere," you whisper, and simon turns his head slightly.
"wot's tha', love?"
"i'm not going anywhere, simon," you say again, and when he looks at you finally, you squeeze his hand. "wherever...wherever you want me to go...i'll go. wherever you want me to stay, i-i'll stay there."
when he kisses you, it's soft, and it's slow, and he feels faraway and so close all at once. you put your hands around his neck, along the back of his head, anything to get him closer, to feel more of him, but it isn't enough.
it won't be enough. not until simon devours you whole. not until you bite into him and never let go. not until beginning of you and the end of him are indistinguishable.
not until i make the time before us obsolete and the time after us endless.
when you are home, simon watches from the hallway as you pick up a picture frame on the dresser. it's been facedown there since he moved in, and touching it has always felt like it burns him. he's frozen as you flip it face-up, standing it back up. when he sees himself, many years younger, smiling, happy, holding a chubby baby with bright eyes and blonde hair, he's surprised his insides don't burst immediately.
he never thought he would be able to look at them again. he never thought he'd be able to see their faces without seeing the warped versions of them, the mirrors of them that he never believed could be real. he always thought if he looked at them again, he'd go blind--that he'd carve out his own eyes just to forget what was left of them.
but nothing remains. they're memories, beautiful ones, and he'd forgotten that his nephew even had dimples.
the photos get lost amongst the rest. they blend in, like they were meant to be, tucked between the warm ones of your smile and the orange cat standing on simon's shoulders.
there is nothing more intoxicating than the woman that simon has chosen to love. you make the worst of his mind feel afraid; the thoughts that threaten to upend him, they are retreating, withering away from the things that he thinks about now that you remain. the tendrils of you are everywhere; you have latched onto him like nothing ever has, and he will never be rid of this feeling. of you.
simon will not fight reality any longer. he won't tell himself fate is nothing but proof that god is unforgiving. god isn't real, you are, and whatever came before you was the road he had to follow to get to you.
and simon didn't just follow; he fucking crawled. he dug his hands into the stone, bleeding fingernails and all, and he kept going even when his legs didn't work and his mind told him there was nothing there ahead of him. it was not resilience. it was not a man made of metal or steel or something heroic or a miracle.
simon is just a man, and he is weak, but as he comes up behind you and breathes you in, he realizes now that he has known you his entire life. you are tethered by something that he can't see. you are connected by something invisible.
when you tuck yourself into bed that night, the pictures are still upright, the ones on the wall still uncovered. you fall asleep before him, like always, and simon cradles your head to his chest as his eyes find the window.
a star sparkles. it's the last thing he sees before he falls asleep beside you.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost mw2#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#ghost mwii#ghost x reader#cod#call of duty#order up
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