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powderpinkandsweeet · 3 months ago

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Ellie x Reader

~6k words, 60s au, blue collar Ellie x fem waitress reader. Some fluff, some hurt comfort, eventual smut. Content warnings for stereotypical early 60s sexism, some naivety (not innocent, per say), and internalized homophobia.

The first time you saw her, it was from behind the counter of a roadside diner. They'd just built a highway through the plain so the diner had been busier than usual and Patti was letting you get in a couple extra hours. It was toward the end of service, right around the time that the lumber mill closed up for the night and the workers make their way home. Fall was creeping in so the day had been cold and rainy. The last customer of the night came through the door soaked to the bone. Her work boots squeaked and squished on the linoleum and drops of water fell from the tips of her hair. Her blue coveralls stuck to her frame, and you could tell it was uncomfortable by the way she shifted and pulled at the fabric.

Patti found her first, storming over to scold the customer about dirtying her freshly-mopped floors. Patti called for you to bring towels and you rushed to help. The supply closet only had dish towels, so you piled them high on the counter where Patti had settled the visitor. You returned to your customers but remained close by to eavesdrop on the two. As far as you could tell, she had been on her way home and got a flat tire on her truck. With the rain she couldn't get the tire changed or walk home, so she asked to use the phone to call a ride.

From the rotary phone in the break room, you could hear grumbling and expletives before she hung up the phone and returned to the counter with a frown and arms crossed. Despite her tough exterior, the poor girl was shivering so you set to making her a mug of hot chocolate. You stood parallel to her at the counter, getting a good look at her for the first time. Above her right breast pocket, under the lumber mill logo, was an embroidered name: 'Eleanor.'

"Eleanor?" you asked.

Her brow twitched at the name and she looked up with a frown, “what’d you just say?”

“It says ‘Eleanor’ on your uniform…”

She looked down at the embroidery and laughed bitterly, "only folks that call me that are my old man and my boss. It's Ellie to you."

You looked back at the mug in your hands, "well, you looked cold, so I thought maybe you would like some hot chocolate."

She looked surprised at the act of kindness, but accepted the cup gratefully, cupping it with both hands that had become almost numb from the cold. "Yeah... thanks, sugar."

You smiled shyly and muttered "of course," before scurrying back to the kitchen to wipe the same counter once again.

Only minutes later, you walked out of the to find an empty mug and a handful of change. 'The cocoa was only a quarter,' you think, dropping the spare change into the pocket of your apron with a jingle. They clinked in your pocket like silver bells the rest of your shift.

Ellie would drop by regularly, stopping to sit alone at the counter and sip a beer at the end of the work day. You would make idle small talk when business was slow, learning more about her every day. She was unlike any other girl you had known, indelicate and assertive, but most of all she had a certain magnetism about her that pulled you in. Every shift, when the clock struck six, you would linger by the counter, hoping the bell would chime and you'd see Ellie walking through the door.

This time, Ellie enters with a group of men you assume must be her coworkers. They all wore the same blue canvas overalls, with the same embroidered logo and marked with their names. They smelled like sawdust and sweat, a combination that you usually didn't mind on Ellie, but the group was overpowering your senses. You try to catch Ellie's eye and smile, but she seemed too focused on her work boots to notice.

You briefly panicked as you realized they weren't being seated in your section, and you had half a mind to take the hostess by the shoulders and shake her. Instead, you muster the courage to ask your fellow waitress to trade. Margaret looked confused at first, but an amused grin stretched across her face and she chuckled.

"What? Is there something on my uniform?" you ask and peer down at your dress and pinafore, but she only snorts behind her hand that is unsuccessfully muffling her laughter.

"No, I see what's going on, you don't have to be shy. You just had to tell me that you're looking to bag a lumberjack and I'd have switched in a second."

"What?! No, you've got the wrong idea," you whisper-yell to her. "One of them is just a friend so I wanted to say hi."

"Oh you don't have to lie to me. We both know exactly what you're doing." You did, but her... not quite.

Margaret glanced at the table once more before she leaned in to whisper in your ear "The one in the corner looks real cute, if you ask me." And she heads off to take the order of a table in what had previously been your section.

You sigh, "I didn't ask, actually." You looked at the man she'd pointed out to see him stacking creamer cups into a pyramid. 'I guess he's... creative? But cute I don't think so.' Your eyes wandered back to Ellie. Her pink lips were in a pout and her green eyes downcast as she traced the rim of her beer glass with a finger. She didn't seem to be entirely present, like something was on her mind.

You took a few deep breaths before marching up to the table with your best customer service smile. You introduced yourself and passed out menus, to which Ellie's head snapped up to see you. You offered her a polite smile, but she looked away, pretending to scan the menu.

The other three at the table ordered drinks as Ellie spaced out, looking at nothing in particular on the menu in front of her. "And for you?" broke her from her trance.

"Sorry, what?"

The man in the booth next to Ellie elbowed her in the side and teased, "your drink, buddy."

She realized and punched him in the arm before picking up the menu again. "Uh, I'll just take a beer... please." she ordered without looking you in the eye.

"Alright then, four beers it is. I'll be right back with you." You held onto your smile as you turned around but let it drop when you thought they could no longer see you. 'What the hell was that? She acted like we'd never met before,' you ruminated as you filled the glasses.

You didn't notice Ellie's repeated glances in your direction as you helped other customers, but the man beside him with "Jesse" embroidered on his coveralls certainly did. He leaned over to murmur in Ellie's ear, "the waitress is cute, huh?"

Ellie looked shocked, blushing and making nervous eye contact with Jesse, but she was overshadowed by the mouthiest of the bunch. "Real cute, alright. I oughta make a move on her," the bearded one, John, interjected. He obviously didn’t realize the question wasn’t directed at him.

Beside him, the one stacking creamer cups hummed in agreement. "Betcha can't get her number by the time we get the check."

"Oh just watch me, fucker."

Ellie couldn't wipe the look of disgust off her face, obvious enough to catch attention. "You got something to say, huh dyke?" John taunted.

Ellie sighed, "just that you're dumb as a bag of rocks if you think you can get her number looking and smelling like you do."

His beard was littered with crumbs and he smelled like an armpit. A chick magnet, truly, but his confidence was admirable at the very least. "Well, you can fuck all the way off, how's that?"

Ellie shrugged and raised her palms in mock-surrender, "just givin it to you straight, man. She's outta your league and on the clock. You wouldn't want someone hitting on you while you're at work, do you?"

John barked out a laugh, "boy would I! But I don't think any gal 'cept you that ain’t afraid to go near a bandsaw."

Ellie didn't laugh in return, instead muttering to herself "they wouldn't be afraid if you knew how to put down the guard and use the damn thing."

Jesse nearly spit out his water, to which John forgot what had been said and only laughed at Jesse's misfortune.

When you returned with the group's beers, Ellie looked away as nonchalantly as she could manage. You pulled out your notepad and scribbled down their orders, tucking it into your apron and turning around to give it to the cook, but you heard a "clink" behind you. You look back to see that the bearded man had knocked his fork and knife onto the floor. He met your eyes and let out an insincere "oops."

'Customer service smile' you reminded yourself. You bent down to pick it up, "here sir, I can grab you a clean set. It'll take me just a mo-MENT!" You fell back onto your butt on the linoleum as one of the glasses of beer was tipped over, splashing onto the table, the ground, and you where you had bent to retrieve the silverware.

For the first time that night, you heard Ellie's voice. "Johnathan! What the fuck, man!"

You scrambled to your feet and were confronted by frantic apologies from the bearded man. He had stood up from the booth with a fist full of napkins. From where you stood could see that the glass had tipped from right in front of him. "I'm so so sorry, I swear I'm so clumsy."

Your eyes were lining with tears at the embarrassment and the suspicion that he had done this on purpose. You looked down at your soiled uniform. Your apron had a huge stain spread across it, and you could feel the cold, sticky feeling as it bled through the apron and into your dress. You struggled to form words and stay polite, "I- it's okay, it's fine, I just need to-"

"Here, please, let me help," and napkins were pressed firmly to your breasts. Ellie yelled the man's name again and nearly climbed over the table but was held back by Jesse's grip on her wrist. She looked at you with sad eyes, only gifting you with her attention when you were distressed.

You jumped backward, "no! I don't need any of your help! I- I'm just-please excuse me," and you bolted through the kitchen, into the break room.

You were able to convince Margaret to bring out the group's food, but her shift ended shortly after, so you were stuck with the task of bringing them the check. They pooled in their cash, letting you know that you could keep the change. You wished them a good night, receiving a grunt and half-hearted wave from Ellie, still looking at you with pity. You turned back to close and count the money in the cash drawer, but stumbled forward as you were graced with a sharp slap to the ass.

You kept walking away as fast as you could, just wanting the whole ordeal to be over with. The bell above the door rang with their departure.

"Don't act like you guys didn't want a piece of that."

"Dude..."

"No kidding! A cute little thing like that would look real good on my arm, doncha think?" John was slurring and stumbling, obviously having been overserved by their second waitress.

Ellie chimed in, "it's a wonder you're still single, Johnny Boy."

"Don't call me that," was growled.

"Wouldn't have to if you weren't acting like a child who don't know better." Ellie laughed, "didn't your mama teach you how to treat a lady?"

"Don't go acting like you know my mama, she's a good Christian woman and she wouldn't take kindly to that."

"Obviously not good or Christian enough to teach you right from wrong."

Jesse stepped forward to put a hand on her shoulder, "cool it, Ellie. He's not worth it."

"Not worth it? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" John nearly shouted as the other man attempted to keep him upright.

"John, it doesn't matter. You scared the poor gal in there and that's that" Jesse admonished and led Ellie away. They could hear the incoherent shouts and slurs as they returned to their respective cars. Jesse pulled out of the parking lot with a wave in Ellie's direction, and Ellie sat in her truck for a few moments before resigning herself to wait.

You locked the diner's back door with shivering fingers. It was nearing 10 o'clock at night and the last bus had come at 8:30, so you would be walking home. After only a few steps, though, you heard a car door slam. You flinched and turned around with your bag held in front of you as a makeshift shield, but were met by Ellie leaning against her truck and smoking a cigarette. She offered you a weak, apologetic smile but you could only frown in return. Ellie waved and offered you an almost inaudible "hey."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" you feigned ignorance, "cause you couldn't look me in the eye less than an hour ago."

She had the common sense to look ashamed, "I just didn't want anyone to get any ideas..."

"Ideas about what? That I'm worthy of your time and attention?"

"You know I didn't mean any harm by it-"

"It still hurt, Ellie, even if you didn't mean it." You felt tears line your eyes and tried to regulate your breathing, "and it hurt that you didn't do anything about your fucking coworker. He spilled beer on me and slapped my ass, but you just stood and watched, and another thing!” But you were cut off, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, okay?" Ellie burst out, remaining tense. "I just, I like you and I was afraid for them to know that."

"I like you too Ellie. I thought I'd made that clear by now."

She sighed and wiped a hand down her face, "I don't think we're on the same page..." She took in a deep breath, “I like you in the same way a man does a woman. And I think I could come to love you."

You felt your face go hot, and your thoughts were sent into a tailspin. She, a woman, liked you, a woman. It was a concept practically unheard of unless you sought it out or were fear-mongered away from it. It had always seemed to be the natural order of things for a woman to lose her last name and independence to become a Mr's Mrs. It gave you butterflies the idea of taking Ellie's last name. It was so simple, the answer why, but you had pretended not to see it all this time.

"I think I like you too Ellie, and not just in the friend way..." you shyly admitted. "I have feelings for you that I don't know how to explain."

Ellie chuckled, "you don't need to understand or explain. All I know is I feel a pull to you not like anyone I've met."

Ellie offered to drive you home since it was cold and window out and "there's shady characters out this time of night." She must have meant her coworker. You almost wished the drive could have lasted longer, but you and Ellie had to part ways. Ellie stood behind you as you unlocked the door, claiming she wanted to make sure you got inside safe before she left. Once it'd popped open, you stood in the entryway and stared, unsure of how to end the night. "Well... goodnight, Ellie. I'll see you at the diner again soon, yeah?"

Ellie nodded, and murmured out, "for sure, yeah. Have a good night..."

You smiled warmly and moved to close the door, but you were stopped by a foot in your doorway that nearly made you scream.

"Wait!" Ellie called, and you pulled the door back just enough to see her. She gulped, "Do you have plans this Saturday?"

"Um, I'm working in the morning but I'm free after three o'clock."

"Do you want to go dancing with me? On Saturday? At 7?"

You were excited but apprehensive, "Ellie... I would love to but where are we supposed to go dancing with each other?" Simply the act of dancing cheek-to-cheek with each other could feel like a risk, but Ellie was quick to quell your worries.

"It's called Tootsie's. It's out on the edge of town so you've probably never heard of it, but you'll love it, promise. I can pick you up?"

You were still apprehensive but agreed. The chance to see Ellie again was worth the anxiety. "Alright, you promised," you tried to say firmly, but couldn't help the smile on your face. You wished Ellie goodnight and made to close the door once again-

"Wait! One more thing"

You opened it again, "yes? Everything alright?" She was silent for a moment. "...Ellie?"

"Can I kiss you?"

You froze in disbelief. You took a tentative step forward, glancing between her lips and her eyes. "Please..."

She smiled and reached out to cup your cheek, and leaned in to give you a gentle peck on the lips. Smiling brighter than she had all night, she wished you goodbye with a wave, "see you Saturday, sugar."

You stood in the doorway and watched as Ellie crossed your yard and climbed into her truck. She drove away into the night, and you snapped out of the trance she had put you in. You shut the door behind you and leaned against it. Your lips still tingled where Ellie had kissed you, and you brought your fingertips to them to brush against your lip. Three days until Saturday, and you would count down the minutes.

You didn't expect Ellie to be the kind of girl to show up early, but you heard a knock on the door at 6:47. You had been running back and forth from bedroom to bathroom to obsess over your hair, face, and outfit. She had only seen you in your diner uniform, and you had only seen her in coveralls. You fiddled with the ends of your hair anxiously as you stepped up to the door and looked out the peep-hole. It was Ellie, hands tucked in pockets and rocking back and forth on her heels.

You took a deep breath, unlocked the door, and practically ripped it open to greet her.

"Hey! It's about... time." Ellie found herself lost in thought as she looked you up and down with an unreadable expression.

You shifted nervously on your feet, "does it look alright?"

Ellie cleared her throat to regain her ability to form words, "no, I mean- yes, I mean-- it looks more than alright, you look so pretty."

You look down at your dress and lean over the full skirt to peer down at your freshly polished shoes, "you really think so?"

"Of course. I meant what I said and I wouldn't lie to you about that." Ellie tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, "don't get me wrong, you look adorable in your little skirt and apron covered in food and beer. This though, you look... wow."

You laughed, "you don't clean up too bad either, El." She blushed at the compliment and turned to look away shyly. She smelled of sawdust and fresh spring air. Instead of her dirty old coveralls, Ellie wore a pair of blue Levis 501s with the ankles cuffed and a white t-shirt tucked into the waist. Her black leather lace-up boots thumped heavily against the planks of your patio, perfectly matching the black leather belt that accentuated her waist. On her shoulders rested a denim jacket with a sherpa lining, and she stood with her hands tucked in its pockets. She looked down at herself, "you really think so?"

You shook your head and laughed, "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

You thought you had seen all of Jackson with how long you'd been there, but Ellie had taken you somewhere wholly unfamiliar. Tootsie's didn't look inviting from the outside, what with its location on the outside of town, its blacked out windows, or the empty storefronts on either side. There was no sign out front, just lettering on the door "Tootsie's--No trespassing, no solicitors, no loitering, members only."

"Members?" you looked at Ellie curiously.

"Just folks like us," Ellie responded with a half-smile. Ellie knocked heavily on the door, and after almost a full minute it opened to a tall, intimidating figure.

"Hiya, Barb! How ya been?" Ellie greeted and leaned "casually" against the door frame.

Barb didn't seem up for small talk. "You still haven't paid your tab from two weeks ago."

"Oh," Ellie looked to the side and itched the back of her neck, "about that, my timecard got processed late?"

"Is that an answer or a question?" Barb grumbled and leaned in.

Ellie flinched, "answer! It's an answer. 'Sides I got the money right here so it's no big deal. Here..." and Ellie dug through her pockets to pull out a few crumpled bills and deposited them into Barb's waiting hand. She counted the bills, looked up at Ellie briefly, and let you pass with a nod. You went in first, and didn't catch what Barb whispered to Ellie on her way in, but you did notice the blush on her face.

Inside the bar, it was dimly lit with a haze of cigarette smoke. Your shoes stuck to the floorboards that had long been saturated with beer. The smell of booze and ash hung in the air. Had it not been for the clientele, you would have assumed it was just another dive bar.

Across the room, pairs of women and pairs of men danced cheek-to-cheek to the crooning of the jukebox. Lyrics of love and devotion filled the room, dancers switching the song's pronouns to express the truth of their love. The booths held couples with hands on thighs and around shoulders, public displays of affection that you hadn’t seen anywhere else. Your heart softened. You almost had to hold back a coo at how intimate the scene was. Lovers held each other close; a closeness that couldn't be shared outside closed doors. You quickly came to the conclusion that this was love of a greater depth than you had ever seen or felt before. There was no power struggle or prescribed gender role. Simply two people looking into one another's hearts and feeling like they've found home. 'Where have they been all my life?' you pondered, 'why did it take me so long to find you?'

You were pulled from your reverie by a grip on your wrist. Ellie had taken you by the hand and gestured toward the jukebox, "will you dance with me?"

You stumbled behind her with a giggle, "I'd love to." Ellie dug through her pockets for a nickel, and deposited it into the machine to queue up her song. She contemplates her song choice before keying in her selection. Satisfied, she pulled you to the dance floor to sway with the other lovers until her song played. Ellie pulled you forward by the hips, guiding one of your hands to her shoulder while she held the other in her own. "I'll lead, okay? Just follow me."

She gave you an excited grin as the song ended. The drums and brass kicked in, and you returned her smile. “I've got sunshiiine, on a clouudy dayyy."

"You're so cheesy, you know that?" you say to her with your forehead pressed against hers.

You feel her breathy laugh hit your lips, "but it's working, right? You haven't left yet."

One of her legs remained between your own, guiding the movements of your feet and hips along with hers. Her touch warmed you through. The callouses on her hands reflected years of hard labor, and pale lines on forearms and cheekbones told stories of fights lost and won. You committed them to memory, determined to cherish this moment as Ellie held you and crooned over the Temptations that you were "my girl, my girl, my girl. Talkin' 'bout my giiirl." The lovers around you faded into the background. As far as you were concerned, it was just you and Ellie.

You couldn't stop looking between her eyes and her lips. Ellie smirked as the song came to an end, "why don't you believe she's all my girl?" The smile remained on her face as she took your chin between her index finger and thumb before meeting your lips with her own. She kissed you tenderly and passionately. You hummed into the kiss, and Ellie mirrored your enthusiasm with a swipe of her tongue to your bottom lip. You froze in surprise at her forwardness, to which she nipped at your bottom lip and slips her tongue against yours. Her lips and tongue were so soft as they worked desperately to taste you and feel you tremble under her hands.

Your hand gripped the front of Ellie's shirt as you began to run out of breath, and you both reluctantly pulled back to pant and stare into each other's love-drunk eyes. Her eyes met yours with an unspoken question and a bite to her bottom lip. Ellie's hands gripped your hips to pull them ever closer, hoping you understood her intentions. You blushed in realization but rewarded her with a nod.

Ellie pulled you past the bouncer with urgency, and you swear you heard a deep chuckle from Barb on the wait. Shaking hands fiddled with the keys to her pickup, dropping them once on the ground before successfully unlocking the door and lifting you into the cab with surprising strength.

Ellie climbed in after you with an order of "in the back."

Your skirt and petticoat flipped up over your behind as you crawled between the seats, flashing Ellie your thin panties. For a moment she swore she could see a wet patch at your center. You scooted back on the narrow bench, spreading your legs so Ellie could rest on her knees between them. She wasted no time, leaning down to kiss you messily. Ellie sucked on your tongue, causing you to whimper and pull back with a gasp.

Ellie huskily whispered in your ear, "I've wanted to touch you like this the second I saw you, prancing around in your cute little skirt and apron." You were practically breathless as she littered kisses and sucks down your neck and to your collarbones. You would get mad at her later for the multitude of bruises, but you didn't have half a mind to care.

Warm, rough hands slid up your shoulders and down your sternum to take the low neckline of your dress into her grip. She pulled the material to rest below your breast, whispering out a low "fuck..." Ellie took your breasts into her palms, squeezing them while circling your nipples with her thumbs. She admired their shape and softness as she held them in her hands, giving them a squeeze and leaning down to flick a nipple with her tongue. You arched your back into her touch as she took your nipple into her mouth to suck, pinching the other between her finger and thumb.

You moaned out her name as she lavished your breasts with licks, kisses, and the occasional bite. Your sensitivity heightened with every touch, and Ellie could tell from the twitching of your thighs at her hips that you were craving more.

Ellie withdrew, grazing your nipple with the points of her teeth to make you flinch. She sat back and circled each nipple with the pad of her thumbs, the saliva left behind making you shiver as they hardened with the attention and cold. "What do you need, baby?"

You brought the back of your hand to rest against your forehead, flushed and panting. "More... please, Ellie."

Ellie smirked, "more what, honey?"

If you were in your right mind, you would have attempted to articulate that this was all new. The pleasure you felt was more intense and mor intimate than anything you'd felt before, and all you knew is that you wanted Ellie to touch you more. Ellie took mercy on you after a few moments of watching your face twist with embarrassment. She hummed for a moment in thought and shifted to press her knee between your thighs. You gasped and bucked your hips at the sudden stimulation to your clit, and Ellie had found her answer.

"Right there, huh? You want to feel me right here?" she questioned despite already knowing the answer. You shyly nodded and continued to grind your hips against the pressure of Ellie's thigh. "Ah-ah, you gotta tell me out loud or I won't know what you really want," she teased.

You take one of Ellie's hands into yours to draw it toward the hot, wet patch on your panties, "here, I need you right here... Please, Ellie, I can't take it."

More than pleased with your answer, Ellie scooted backwards so she could press her palm to your core. She cupped your pussy through your panties, grinding the heel of her palm against your clit. She stroked her hand across the length of your pussy before slipping her fingers into the hem of your panties. You helped her wriggle them down your legs, and Ellie gripped your knees to spread your legs wide open. For a moment, she just admired your glowing frame beneath her. Your lips glistened with arousal, starting to drip down the curve of your thigh to pool onto the truck's leather seats. "Such a pretty pussy..." Ellie mused, licking her thumb to rubbing slow circles around your clit. She reveled in your sensitivity and the ease with which she could pull whimpers and whines from you. You were so much fun to play with. Your hips followed the movements of her fingers to chase the pleasure. "Feels so good, doesn't it, baby?" Ellie cooed.

You whimpered and nodded once again but squeaked out a "yes!" when Ellie returned your silence with a slap to your clit. But her tender touches returned with greater intensity, switching from slow circles on your clit to swipes left and right with the tips of her fingers. Your thighs trembled and attempted to thrash, but Ellie forced your legs to remain open. "And you're all mine..." Ellie murmured, mostly to herself.

Ellie couldn't wipe the smile from her face as she abused your pussy, but she knew that she could make you squirm harder and squeal louder. She slowed her ministrations on your clit just enough to draw your focus and a whine of her name, "wha- why'd you stop?"

Ellie's gaze was intense, more serious than she had ever looked. "I need to fuck you. I want to feel you squeeze my fingers and drip down my wrist." She leaned down to press kisses up your chest and the side of your neck. Her breath puffed against your ear and nearly made you shiver, "will you let me, honey? I promise if you be my baby I'll make you feel so good."

"I'll be your baby, Ellie. Please make me yours."

She met you with an excited grin before sucking two fingers into her mouth to wet them. She withdrew them with a "pop" and brought them to your core. "You ready?"

You looked between Ellie's eyes and her fingers, "mhm, please, Ellie."

The tips of her fingers circled your hole once, twice, three times before penetrating to the first knuckle and thrusting shallowly. "So warm... you feel so good," Ellie cooed. You had flinched initially, but melted into the haze of pleasure as she thrusted deeper. Ellie paid close attention to your face and voice to guide you to your orgasm, noticing your breaths slow and your brows furrow with her gentle pace.

"You need more, don't you, baby? Want me to fuck you harder?" You nodded with a whimper and a plead, so Ellie curled her fingers and pumped them upward to abuse your g-spot. Your pussy made obscene, wet noises as Ellie jabbed the tips of her fingers against the spot on your walls that made you squeal and arch. "Doing so so good for me, angel, I can feel you squeezing me." You could only respond with groans and guttural noises from deep in your throat. If you could only hear yourself, you would be ashamed at your whoreish behavior.

Your body shook and your jaw slacked as you gasped for air. One of your hands came up to squeeze your breast, while the other gripped Ellie's forearm tightly. She could feel the bite of your nails but couldn't be bothered to care when you were this overwhelmed with pleasure beneath her. The burn in your stomach was a raging inferno at this point, your clit and walls pulsing with heat. Ellie could tell you were nearing the edge by the way your eyes kept rolling and your back arching up and falling backward onto the leather seats. "Ellieee, I- I'm so close, please. Please..."

Her grin only widened, a vibrant flush on her cheeks from excitement and exertion. Her fingers picked up her pace, gripping you by the hip for leverage as she pulled you toward orgasm. She knew just what you needed to throw you over the edge, "rub your clit for me, honey." She guided your hand away from her forearm to the mess between your thighs, "two fingers, do little circles for me, baby. Yeah, just like that." The friction on your clit shot through you like lightning, and you had to withdraw your other hand from your breast to grip your other wrist and quell its trembling. Ellie's fingers curled up just right with a firm jab and a squelch, and your pussy gripped her tightly. You could only let out throaty groans as you peaked, unable to form words or warn Ellie of your orgasm. You cum drooled down between your lips, Ellie's fingers and hand covered in your slick as she guided you through your orgasm. She slowed and withdrew her fingers from your pussy, circling your clit with her thumb once again until the bucking of your hips slowed and she felt your muscles tense at the stimulation.

Ellie pulled back to revel in her job well done. Your hazy eyes refocused with a peck to the tip of your nose. You smiled tiredly at one another, and you couldn't hold back your thoughts, "I've never felt like this for someone..."

Ellie looked confused for a moment and tilted her head, "huh? Like you've never come before?"

You laughed and looked away shyly, "no, not that. I mean, you did make me feel better than anyone has but I meant like... I have strong feelings for you."

Ellie smiled like a kid on Christmas and dropped down to smother you in a hug, "you'll just have to be my girl, then, won't you?"

You mirrored her smile and laugh at her enthusiasm, "I would want nothing more."

Very loosely inspired by the setting (not characters, Ellie isn’t really butch to me) of Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg (an essential read and one of my favorite people). Be kind to each other, we’re just making our dolls kiss. I see a lot of discourse over characterizations of the subject or reader and how it should be done. We like our characters and we envision how they would or wouldn’t act, but unless you’re writing the story then it probably won’t fit your expectations.

#ellie x reader #wlw smut #ellie tlou #tlou 2 #ellie williams #wlw #ellie x fem reader

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territorial-tarot-tahr · 4 months ago

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C.o.D smut

Word count: 6.3k

CW: Blood and general menstruation if that's gross to you, don't read it. There's self loathing but as a backdrop. Also explicit sexual content below the cut.

Summary: AFAB/Transmasc reader is in pain and Soap tries to help.

P.o.V: Second Person

Again, if you found my A03 from this, no you didn't. Shut up. This one's shorter and a bit older(4months?)than the prior piece. I'm also gonna be so real and say this was written as a mostly self indulgent piece so that's why it's stupidly corny.

No spoilers for any C.o.D game.

🚨Go to my main account "rorschach-retrograding-rotary" for requests or commissions. Or you can just toss something in the comments or something🚨

‼️🚨This was not proof read and I hate reading my work so I have no intention of proof reading it🚨‼️

Feel free to commission me or donate 𝕙𝕥𝕥𝕡𝕤://𝕜𝕠-𝕗𝕚.𝕔𝕠𝕞/𝕤𝕒𝕪_𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕖𝕤𝕖

Sweat seemed to find permanent residency on your skin, the ring around your neck was already evidence enough of that. Every second that you felt the uncomfortable ache, it seemed to cut open the scars along your chest again. People who needed to know, knew. People who didn't, didn't. Price and the medical team knew, but that was the extent. You figured the information was on a more need-to-know basis, and as such, only the aforementioned individuals and an otherwise small list knew.

This list didn't include your 189cm, Scottish lover-boy. Whether out of fear of rejection, or attempt of denial by ignoring, you still hadn't gotten around to it. He'd yet to do anything that would make you think he wouldn't be alright with it, but it was still a risky step you weren't eager to take. You'd found yourself awoken in a disgruntled haze, hair coated in drool and some in your mouth as you blinked awake. A familiar coil of discomfort had knotted itself in your gut. With no heating pad, you'd simply dragged yourself off your cot and to the kitchen after a quick stop in the latrine, which had turned up a few painkillers that seemed to be taking their sweet time. You'd had painful cramps before, sure. But usually you had taken proper care to count and keep track of when to expect them, and as such, you were loaded up on preemptive painkillers.

You hadn't found yourself as prepared or lucky this time. This month you'd simply lost track considering that you'd been on a mission for around two weeks at the point and the focus had been more on whether you'd be alive in any given moment rather than when you'd start bleeding. Well, you reap what you sow. And now here you were, fighting your urge to double over and lay curled up on the floor till you passed out. At least the floor would probably be colder than the heat that felt as if it was stuck to your skin like a damp shirt. That was fair, your shirt was pretty soaked in sweat at the moment.

Coffee cup after coffee cup seemed the easier answer than laying back down at the mercy of your already wide-awake mind. You couldn't wager a guess on how long you'd stood there waiting, time seemed to slip away from you. The small clock on the wall made a dull chorus of clicks as the second hand flicked by, and the 24 hour digital clock nearby clicked in chorus at every minute. Despite this, your attention did not drift to them, or the whirr of the overachieving air conditioner above, which did nothing to lessen your sweat. Instead, your attention seemed more than eager to slip away to your white-knuckled grip on the rim of the sink, a dish towel at each palm with cold water providing some relief. His hands were on your hips before you'd even realized he was actually behind you.

His breath was warm in your unwashed hair, and his calloused fingers had already begun to dig into the fabric of your shirt. Your forehead was against the cool wood of the cabinet, and it took everything in your power to try not to focus on what you assumed might've been very early morning wood. Or genuinely just something in his pocket.

"Couldn't sleep?" His remark was sarcastic, the answer already evident as your trembling fingers worked grime off the rim of a mug. You shuddered in response, his breath warm on your neck as gooseflesh covered your body. A t-shirt and plaid pajama pants were evidently not enough to keep the cold away or hold it at bay and since it was easier to find a practically permanent spot in the barracks than getting an apartment, you found yourself cutting your loses.

"Army of coffee cups around here not tipping you off?" Your comment seemed snark-ier than you had intended, but your hand on his and a gentle squeeze seemed to be enough of an apology. Dark bags were under your eyes, fatigue and exhaustion was evident on your face as you turned to look at him over your shoulder. His shirt was faded, stains from coffee and cigarette butts formed their own patterns across the barely recognizable band logo it had once shown. Either he'd slept in his shoes and jeans or he'd decided to put them on after noticing you'd gotten up in the night.

"Collective break room. Cups were just as likely to be yours as they were to be Simons." He yawned as he leaned further against you. His footing wasn't lost but it seemed slightly comical in the moment how lazy he was trying to be. Too tired to stand up straight but enough energy to not only realize you'd woken up, but also notice you were acting odd and try to get to the bottom of it. His voice was rough, evidently still half asleep as he continued. "All I'm askin' is, what's eatin' yuh?"

You huffed softly and shuffled where you stood. You mumbled incoherently as John patted your hip, his fingers rubbed the fabric for a moment longer. He traced the indent of your hip bone against your pants before leaning down to hold his face against your neck. He spoke quietly, his voice muffled as he made a comment about you needing to eat more. You neglected to answer, scoffing and rolling your eyes as you instead pushed his hands from your hips to hold your waist instead. You heard his soft grunt of amusement before it faded to a yawn again.

He kissed along your neck for a moment as he took the mug and carelessly tossed it into the sink. A few moments more and he'd planted his feet before hoisting you up onto the counter. You'd never been particularly short, but sitting on the counter was what it took for you to be eye level with John. You could see his eyes were matched by yours with similar rings of dark circles. His lacked the bloodshot lines that creeped at the corners of yours but regardless, it was still evident that he was tired.

His lips found your neck and he bit your skin gently, leaving a small red mark that bloomed on your skin as he patted your thighs with his warm palms. His eyes searched yours for any cues he was missing, something he was supposed to be getting but wasn't, though you knew if you did decide to try and make him guess that it would be hours before he'd even be on the correct ballpark of correct answers. Easier just to throw him a bone. Something vague that would get him to back off for a bit. The back of your head touched a cabinet as you leaned back. You swiped your hand across your mouth to remove any excess coffee before shrugging.

"Just not- I'm not feeling all that great." Your brows were knit in a small scowl as you wrung your hands together. Your palms were sweaty, a sigh on your lips as his hands squeezed your waist again. His hands were warm. You could feel it through your shirt as he gently kneaded some of the skin. He didn't even seem to realize he was doing it, working more off of what felt good rather than thinking through his moves.

He attempted a light-hearted scoff as he scrutinized your excuse. Though you were unamused regardless and shoved at his shoulder, a sneer tugging at your lips. Though he quickly kissed you on the mouth, the sneer leaving your face as his lips met yours. You wagered he used more force than he meant to, as your neck was being forced to an odd angle with the back of your head against the cabinet.

"'ve seen yuh get shot, stabbed, punched, pinned. Seen all that shite. And I know yuh don't go all mopey or secretive about it. Talk to me, gaol. What's actually got yuh wide awake?" Damn, he was earnest as hell. You avoided his practically pleasing gaze as he implored you to share whatever your burden was, whatever ailed you in the moment. Whatever it was, he wanted to share it or at least try and get you to open up. You swallowed hard and you couldn't be sure if you would actually articulate anything if you opened your mouth. You weren't sure whether you wanted to or not either.

One of his hands left your hips and ran through your hair and you leaned into the touch as you begrudgingly met his gaze. Cold sweat sat in your tresses and you wondered how he could stand to touch your slicked locks.

"I'm not pulling your leg, Johnny. I'm not feeling all too hot right now. That's all." Your insistence came out as almost wishy-washy. A whiny complaint as you sat on the counter and stared at him through weary eyes. Your statement earned you unforseen side effects in the form of a cheeky grin as he kissed your cheek and spoke in a teasing tone.

"Yer definitely lookin' hot if it's any consolation."

Oh. Oh. It had little to no intention of telling him that regardless of how "hot" you looked right now, you felt like a ketchup bottle of blood and no amount of flattery would really help that.

You only seemed to register his further attempts at testing the waters when one of his hands found the hem of your shirt. He maintained eye contact as he began to tug your shirt up slightly, exposing the lower muscles of your abdomen. He seemed to be waiting more for your consent and permission, trying to see how up for action you were at the moment. He was met with you grabbing his wrist as you practically snapped:

"Wait." From you as you stared him down, wide-eyed with an air of panic streaked on you.

It wasn't as though you'd never gotten intimate before, but being intimate with him specifically would be new. You'd had a few partners in highschool but none who were important enough to mention. They'd also only known you from before your first surgery. When you'd been grabbing onto anything in an attempt to try and force yourself into the idea that if you could play the part of a highschool girl, then maybe you'd find some kind of satisfaction in that life. You didn't enjoy that part of your past, and as such you hadn't disclosed it to your peers.

You'd been too cautious to let John know about your surgery yet, too worried that he'd treat or think of you differently. As such, you'd usually turn the topic to him. With intimate times usually culminating in you practicing your blow or hand job skills or simply just denying intimacy altogether on some occasions. You always remained fully dressed, with your most casual being a tank top and shorts. You let him touch freely over your top, and he usually ended up holding the back of your head but that was the extent. You tried to focus intimacy back to him, focusing on making him feel good.

He'd always done his best to be understanding while still expressing concern for you. Nights of one-sided intimacy ended with him asking in earnest if there was something he could do for you. Stating he "didn't want to leave you with blue balls". You'd always shrugged it off and insisted you were alright, to which he'd find some way to repay you sooner or later. He'd grab a copy of a book he knew you wanted, try and cook you something in the barrack's kitchen or simply get you flowers when he saw them.

He'd done nothing that would make you think he wouldn't be accepting, and yet you still found your stomach in knots and your heart pounding away in your chest as his fingers cautiously rested on your shirt. His eyes searched yours and despite your unsure inner turmoil, you still found that you couldn't find it in yourself to ask him to stop. You wanted him to know. You wanted to stop feeling guilty. To stop feeling like it was some kind of shameful secret that you had to hide from him.

Your throat seemed suddenly and uncomfortably dry. A few swallows did nothing to quell the dry spot that seemed less than eager to leave. John removed his hand from your shirt, letting one stay on your hip and bringing the other up open palmed by his head as if in surrender.

"Not looking to tic you off, 'pologies." It was clear that there was guilt in his tone as he gently squeezed your hip again. His face gained a slight blush of embarrassment at having driven that strong of a reaction from you. Christ, had he pissed you off? Had he made things worse? Here you were simply trying to deal with whatever was makin' you get up in the middle of the night and he came along and pissed you off. Great going genius. Dumbass.

His internal monologue was practically written across his face as his gaze went from the coffee mugs, to the cabinets, the ceiling and really anything that wasn't your face. In return, you found your own embarrassment creeping on your face. He'd been trying to do something for you, to be nice and you'd snapped. You'd snapped at him for something that you had planned on doing yourself. Damnit. Alright, off with the band-aid.

"I didn't mean to yell, you just- you just startled me. That's all." It was time for your own gaze to be best friends with the floor as you continued speaking. "I'd just like to ask a selfish promise of you first. Is that okay?"

"Oddly serious."

"John."

"Sorry. Alright, ask away."

How do you phrase this? You'd never really had to think of it before, you'd naively assumed that you could cruise through the relationship without the topic ever coming up.

"Just promise that you won't get mad at me."

He paused for a moment, his eyebrow cocked up in an arch as he gnawed the inside of his cheek.

"Sounds like it's gonna depend on what yer about to spring on me."

You seemed ready to insist and he quickly amended his statement, a kiss on your forehead before he spoke.

"Yes, sorry. I promise I won't be mad at you."

You paused before nodding in acknowledgement and guiding his free hand back to your shirt hem. His fingers ran along the cloth for a few moments more before eventually tugging the cloth up again. His other hand joined the first in the ordeal of lifting up your shirt and before long, he was holding the balled up shirt in one hand haphazardly. Your thin scars sat pale and discolored against the rest of your skin and you saw his eyes trace over your body a few times before meeting your gaze again. There, you'd done it. Your cheeks burned what you could only assume was a vibrant scarlet as you waited for some statement of acknowledgement or a scoff. Maybe a huff before he broke down your self esteem.

Though you were eventually met with a sympathetic look as his set your shirt to the side and resumed holding your hips.

"That all?"

Was that all?

You'd shown the man what had been your secret. What kept you awake on some nights just wondering in a cold sweat about how he'd react, if he'd insult you, demean you. Break up with you on the spot, spread the word among your peers. Leave you getting stared at when you walked into a room. But what you'd earned instead was a "That all?"

"The fuck do you mean, 'that all?'" You weren't livid, you weren't annoyed, honestly you couldn't place what you were. Had you wanted some big reaction out of him? Had you wanted a big emotional confrontation? Well, no, but what you'd wanted at least something. Not a reaction that made it seem like you were being dismissed.

You opened your mouth to speak again and instead found him cutting you off with an abrupt kiss that bumped your head against the cabinet again from the force he'd used. He held the kiss for longer than you found normal and just as you were about to try and tap on his shoulder as a reminder that you needed to break for air, he pulled away and laughed quietly to himself as his hands rested on his own hips.

"Laddie, you had me worried yuh were about to reveal some kind of second head or fused twin in some Total Recall type of shite. Maybe a really corny tattoo that I would laugh at 'und not be able to take yuh seriously because of. But this? I don't get how yuh think I'd be mad about it. 'Could spend hours jus' starin' at you if yuh'd let me. What I'm getting at here, is that yer quite possibly the most gorgeous guy I've had the fortune of layin' eyes on. Scars or not." Near the end of his accented monologue, he gently began cupping the your face before kissing your forehead again.

Your mind seemed to have paused, processing everything slowly. Maybe you were just hormonal. Maybe you just had pent up aggression from something else, but you found self loathing begin to rush over you in droves as you thought about the aforementioned nights laying in puddles of your cold sweat as you worried and terrified yourself with an endless sleep of scenarios and what-ifs that scared you into not telling him for so long. And yet here he was. He seemed to be barely thrown-off his paces.

You found tears lining your vision, frustration at yourself as well as some swell of relief had planted seed in your heart as you leaned forward to cry into his shoulder. He looked fairly surprised or at least unexpecting of that reaction, though he quickly found his role again. One hand moved to be buried in your hair and gently massaging your scalp as the other found your back and gently patted it between your gasping inhales.

One of the few things that kept you from wailing into the material of his shirt, was the knowledge that you weren't trying to awake or draw the attention of any late night walkers nearby. Instead, you did your best for emotional release via choked sobs and your quivering breaths. You grabbed a handful of his shirt with one hand and your other wrapped under his arm to hold tightly to his back as you gave another shaky inhale and left the impression of your tears and spit in darkened patches across his shirt.

"Gotta throw this into the dryer before I call it in for the night, yeah?" He chuckled quietly into your hair as he gave you a squeeze. He was warm against you, and you found your lungs gradually being able to work actual proper breaths into your chest. Your crying hadn't lasted all that long, but your process of calming down and simply laying against him lasted far longer. He planted another kiss on your head before gently holding your jaw in his warm hands. He swiped his thumbs across your face to wipe away your stray tears.

He held your gaze for a few moments longer before speaking. His voice was quiet, his eyes searching yours as he attempted to check if you were alright or not yet in an unspoken question. You gave one final quivering exhale as you collected your thoughts and what dignity you had left.

A few moments more and you had calmed down fully and you'd hopped off the counter. He held your hand in a firm but gentle grip and it seemed like he had something more to say, but you cut off him. Figuring that you owed him an explanation for his initial question.

"I'm cramping. That's why I'm down here. Couldn't sleep."

It seemed clear that he wasn't sure what you were speaking of initially. His mind most likely moving through any of the training or sparring sessions where he might've hit you harder than necessary or when you could've possibly sprained it. Though a few moments more and a few embarrassed hand gestures from you, he seemed to get the gist. Your cheeks gained the splash of bright red again as you saw him begin trying to think through how to help.

"Pain killers?"

"A couple in my system right now. Not helping."

"..heatin' pad?"

"Couldn't find one."

He paused in his suggestions and it was clear he had something working in his mind as he stared at you for a moment longer before giving his next idea.

"You uh- you try an orgasm yet?"

You quickly threw a swing and slugged him in the shoulder as you scrunched your eyes to a glare. You called him a pervert and you saw him smile subtly as he feigned pain from your punching. He rubbed his arm and gave a quick hiss through his teeth as he continued pretending your attack had hurt him, complaining half-heartedly that you would leave a bruise. Regardless, he let you continue to punch him a few more times, though the smile and crinkle of the corners of his eyes made it clear he was anything but upset.

"Lay off, lay off." He chuckled for a moment as he took your hands in his before moving them to your side, though you quickly crossed your arms as you shot him a half-hearted glare.

"Look, all I'm sayin', luv is that I was with a girl a good number of years back. Anytime it was shark week she'd ask for some time together and I, being the astute gentleman that I am, would say yes. She was claimin' it made her feel better for a littl' while. I ain't sayin' there's some great biological flare to it, but at the very least, it took her mind off it for a while if there ain't any other explanation." He cast you a subtle smile before planting another kiss on the side of your neck, taking care to bite the skin and leave a red blemish.

Your brows furrowed as you scrunched up your face in a mild show of scrutinization. You were sure his story had some merit to it in terms of the source material but in terms of whether or not it actually meant anything? Whatever it was, he believed what he was saying even if you were suspicious of it. You found the warmth of his hands had been traveling up slowly but surely, with his hands now on your side instead of your hips. As he held your eye contact, the question was practically written on his face. His eyebrows were raised as he waited for your answer. One of his hands still squeezed your side but the other dropped slowly to rest on the curve of your groin through your pants. Damn it. What did you really have to lose?

"You know this is insanely unsanitary, yeah?"

Your protest was practically token at this point. You had little intention of actually backing down now but you still wanted to put all the cards on the table. Some kind of disclosure. Or at the very least one final chance for him to back out if he had his own doubts he'd been too polite to speak.

"Well aware." His tone was matter-of-factly in that his will or decision wouldn't be the one wavering. Though it was clear you were more than welcome to still change your mind if you wanted to. He'd slung your t-shirt along with his underneath you in leu of a towel or blanket considering he didn't want to risk waking anyone up on his way to the barracks. The hour was still late enough that no one else was awake. No one else should've been awake. The clock gave another scornful series of clicks and you watched his jaw already at work even as he stood with his hands on his hips staring at your closed knees.

"Are you chewing gum?"

"......maybe. That an issue?"

"Johnny, I don't want you somehow spitting gum in my- look when did you even get it?"

You watched as he quickly swallowed the piece without hesitation and shrugged as he glanced back to you. He began to speak with a tone that made it clear his comment was satirical. Or at the very least an attempt at self depreciation to try and make you more comfortable since you seemed less than whole-y in your element. He wasn't entirely stupid. He was sure if he was laying splayed out like a Christmas turkey on table, he wouldn't exactly be full of confidence. He spoke with his hands. That was something you'd begun to notice during your months of being together. And it seemed reflected now with how he spoke with vague gestures and a grin that now tugged at his lips, revealing the tops of his teeth and some hints of gums.

"Feel like there's a lot of unwarranted judgement coming my way about my breath care and gum habits. Specifically coming from someone who's asking me to eat them out or fuck their pussy till they see stars."

You cringed slightly from your spot on the table, you propped yourself up on your elbows as you stared at him from between your knees. You were sure he hadn't meant anything by it, and in all honesty you couldn't pin down why you disliked it either. But his use of "pussy" just made your stomach churn more than the cramps were already.

"Y'mind not calling it that?"

"Callin' it what? A pussy?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. I mean I can be gross and jus' call it a hole if yuh'd like. That sound insanely sexy? 'Laddie, please let me fuck your hole.'" He trailed off into a quiet laugh as he wiped his lips. It seemed clear that he was working through compromises in his mind. As much as he was joking, it seemed clear he was still trying to find a solution that pleased you. He ran his pointer finger and thumb over his top lip, rubbing what stubble had managed to grow out before he settled on one.

"Does 'cunt' work?"

You raised an eyebrow in response, seemingly more of a "convince me" rather than an absolute "no". You adjusted the shirts underneath your hips, your flannel pants were catching on the fabric and you found a short internal monologue crossing your mind as you began wondering why you hadn't already taken them off. You felt foolish. They were going to come off anyways, so why'd that have to be part of whatever attempt at being "sexy" he'd pull? Whatever. Your internal monologue was cut off by his voice soon after.

"Simple yes or no. If I were to say-" His voice started off at what you assumed was his attempt at "husky" but considering his accent, was more so borderline incomprehensible in the beginning. "There is nothing more that I'd like to do right now than grab your knees, snap your legs open and eat out your cunt like it was the last fuckin' meal on this whole damn planet-" He trailed off, his fingers had begun tracing along your hips again before eventually fondling the tassels of your pants as he undid them. When he was done, his fingers were hooked along the seam of your waist and and he was leaning his head against your partially parted legs, his cheek on your knee.

"What would yuh do then? Would that be doin' anythin' for yuh?" You feigned deep thought, rubbing your chin for a moment as you egged him on. You brought your other knee to the other side of his head and gently squeezed.

"I'd probably say I'd need a bit more convincing."

He brought a hand up to haphazardly grab at the thigh of the leg that he wasn't leaning against. He opened your legs slightly further and he enunciated his syllables further now with dropping his head and inch of two. "Alright well what 'bout this," He hummed in thought for a moment or two as he mulled over what to say.

"I could say somethin' along the lines of 'seein' you splayed out like this with a cunt that's practically begging for me to fuck, 'und a mouth that's beggin' me to kiss it. You've got eyes that make me want to get lost in 'em. You've got a voice like music." He seemed to laugh for a second before adding onto the monologue, almost in a purposely attempt to ruin whatever blissful or heartfelt tone. "You've got a cunt that I'd be more than happy to already be inside of by now."

This was met with a surprisingly sheepish grin from you as you used a hand to shove his face off your leg as you tuned away and attempted to keep some kind of cool or reserved exterior.

"Yeah sure. I guess that'd do something for me." With that confirmation of yours, he cast you a toothy grin again before making quick work of your pajamas pants. He had first bitten the hem and tugged them down a few inches, but after a look of confusion that you shot him, he quickly abandoned that idea and instead just used his hands like a normal person. He'd balled them up and tossed your pants aside without much thought. His lips soon found your abdomen and he began planting kisses all along your visible skin.

When he got to your chest, he cast you a glance. It seemed more like confirmation of permission as he held your gaze. You gaze a curt nod of acknowledgement, almost more akin to embarrassment before he exhaled warm breath onto your skin. You were met with a string of chaste kisses along one of your scars as he gently squeezed your sides. One of his knees was hiked up onto edge of the table as he leaned further forward, the kisses continuing to follow. The kisses turned to hickies as he began leaving red marks that bloomed across your skin, and you watched as he stared in some amount of odd satisfaction as the marks began to cover larger amounts of different patches of your skin.

He left another blooming red mark on the bottom of your jaw before capturing your lips in a kiss. One of his hands became tangled in your hair, grabbing almost a whole fistful as he held onto you with some depraved amount of desperation that you couldn't even be sure the origin of. After a while, he seemed to remember that it was a good idea to let you breath, and he broke the kiss. Staring down at you through hazy eyes as he huffed quietly. His huffing left every exhale as a puff of his breath straight to your face, and you counted yourself lucky that he'd had the forethought to chew the gum before hand.

He shot you a quick grin before quickly slipping off you and moving to stand at the edge of the table again. He wiped his hands on his pants though he hadn't dirtied them. He then let his fingers trail at the edges of the waistband of the boxers you had on. You grimaced slightly as he pulled at your boxers again before leaving you bare on the table. Your face burned a vibrant scarlet and you stared at one of the walls to your side, though you felt him tap your calf for your attention.

"Jus' give me the word and we'll stop. Yeah?"

You nodded shakily but kept your gaze on the wall only to hear him call for a verbal response.

"Not doin' anythin' till I hear it."

You nodded again as you responded, speaking almost under your breath in a seemingly annoyed fashion. "Understood."

"Lovely."

With that you felt him press his middle and pointer finger to the folds of your cunt. His thumb rested lazily on your clit as he dragged his fingers around for a few moments. His fingers slipped into your cunt with little resistance and he found that the blood worked surprisingly well considering he wasn't sure how aroused you were and how much of the slick was yours. You were warm. Felt slicker than he wagered you'd be after an orgasm as well. He then moved his fingers to the base of your cunt before giving one quick swipe upwards, dragging a smear of your blood up with him. You yelped, shot him a confused stare as he laid a hand open-palmed on your abdomen.

"That alright, luv?" He met your gaze for a moment as he rubbed his finger tips to his thumb, feeling your blood in a way that weirded you out. Though what drew a cry of disgust from your lips was when he swiped his fingers across his tongue, tasting your blood. You gagged for a moment and physically cringed as you began yelling about how gross he was. He shushed you quickly for a moment and was cut off by his own barky laugh.

"Again. I'm hearin' a lot of complaints from someone who's needin' somethin' from me. And if you keep yellin' like that, you're probably gonna catch some poor passerby-er's attention."

You begrudgingly gritted your teeth as you turned your gaze away from him and mumbled a half-hearted sigh of acquiescence. "Whatever."

You nodded though and returned to staring up at the ceiling above, an occasional glance at either of the two clocks as they clicked quietly. Your mind wandered for a moment as you attempted to try and keep your mind off of how exposed you felt. The cool air on your cunt only seemed to add to the sensation and you squirmed for a moment more before settling still again. What seemed to summon your attention again was his movement as he crouched down, his hands gripping the outside of your thighs. His face was between your legs and you met his gaze for a moment before you saw him lick a stripe along your folds.

You grunted, moving a hand to lay across your eyes as he dragged his tongue from bottom to top of your sex. You gritted your teeth again and found that your mind traveled to the fact of how unsanitary it all was. You thought of the mess of blood that must've been in his stubble at the moment and you found yourself suppressing a small gag. Despite this, you stayed quiet considering how good it felt. His tongue slipped into your cunt and you squeezed instinctively to which he grunted. A puff of his warm breath hit your cunt, and you heard him mumble softly. As such, you felt the vibrations hit your heart in a way that sparked a rumble in your throat.

Your cunt already ached from your cramps and you found that his tongue was driving you closer to an orgasm than you wagered you would've been otherwise or in regular circumstances. Every lick across your cunt left you fighting your urge to buck against his mouth for more friction, but you quickly found the he seemed to get the message. His hands tightened on your hips and tugged you forward for closer contact as he continued licking, his hawked nose occasionally dragging further in your folds. He wouldn't pretend that it tasted amazing, but the tang of copper on his tongue wasn't something he found particularly offsetting.

You whined softly and he squeezed the malleable flesh of your hips in what you assumed was his attempt at a reassuring fashion. His mouth moved upwards along your cunt, his tongue eventually lapping at your clit. You could more directly see the blood on his lips and stubble now as well as the flecks across his nose. His hands moved from your thighs to the tops of your knees as he began to spread your legs further. You whined softly in return, feeling your muscles ache in return as your breathing hitched.

Your heart hammered in your chest and his eyes seemed hazy as he continued lapping at your cunt like a dehydrated dog at a water bowl. He continued lapping with more intention as he dipped his tongue further between your folds. He could feel his cock grow stiff against his leg and he did his best to ignore it. You were important. This was for you. He resigned himself to fucking his hand after you fell asleep.

You whined softly and moaned from behind your hand as he tugged you closer. The work of his mouth on your clit left you giving a shrill mewl as you came. You heard him grunt in surprise and felt him release your clit which he'd begun sucking on. You saw him blink a few times before licking the discharge from your folds as it made it's way down and mixed with the remaining blood in your folds.

After he finished cleaning the remains of your orgasm, he stood back and looked you over as if to gauge your reaction or wait for any criticism. He criss-crossed his arms and laid his forearms across the tops of your knees and stared down at you before speaking softly. "Y'alright?"

You nodded blearily, half focused on him and half focused on trying to keep some kind of dignified expression again as you spoke. "M' good."

You heard and saw him chuckle before cleaning his face with his hand before wiping it on his pant's leg. He leaned over you for a moment, keeping balance on his forearm before pressing a kiss to your forehead and then pressing one to your lips. A few moments more and you rubbed your mouth absentmindedly for a moment as you looked him over. Your cunt had stopped painfully throbbing and your stomach had stopped coiling in knots for a a moment. Maybe his ex had actually been right about something.

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deathby1000sluts · 11 months ago

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some of my favorite finds from the first antique store. the only i came home with was a metal wizard of oz sign.

#antique store #somewhere indiana #cool ass oiuja board #old wedding dress #a shelf of oz collector's items #old cuckoo clock #super pretty rotary phone

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tapwater118 · 6 months ago

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One of these 30 recommended characters will have the chance to join the Competition for Fantasy Retreat! (its theodore)

more bfdi swap au swaps, cheat sheet + reference image below

swapped pairs are grouped together (i.e. 8-ball swaps with clock, balloony swaps with cloudy, etc)

8-Ball -> D20, Clock -> Spinner

Balloony -> Cottony, Cloudy -> Blimpy

Barf Bag -> Paint Bucket, Marker -> Bile Vial

Basketball -> Marimo, Grassy -> Gym Maty

Bell -> Loudspeaker, Fanny -> Weather Vaney

Bomby -> Droney, Roboty -> Nuclear Reactory

Book -> E-Reader, TV -> Photo Album

David -> Theodore, Dora -> Davida

Eggy -> Berry, Pie -> Quiche

Evil Leafy -> Void Flamey, Nonexisty -> Existential Dready

Fries -> Fish Sticks, Taco -> Hash Brown

Naily -> Splintery, Tree -> Pylon

Nickel -> Robot Badgey, Robot Flower -> Barrette

Pillow -> Bloodstone, Ruby -> Cushion

Remote -> Telegraph, Saw -> Rotary Cutter

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iheartjohnlennon · 1 year ago

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hii, can you write Mick Jagger x famous fashion designer!female reader in which he irritates and begs her to design and sew Bianca's wedding dress until she accepts but then they often have sex and make out during "creative discussions" and when the dress is finally ready they kind of end up getting married instead? with THE dress.

Is it considered steal the groom if the groom himself takes the initiative to exchange the bride? lol this is kind of fucked up and I'm going to feel bad for Bianca but I think it's something Mick would definitely have the nerve to do. I honestly think it would be one of Rock's most tragicomic and iconic stories if it had happened.

I hope you see the appeal as I did, but feel free to ignore it if that's not your cup of tea. LOVE <3

'Luna, amore e no'

London, early '71

Tags: Infidelity, Smut, Orgasm, Emotional Conflict, Resolved Sexual Tension

A Saturday night in Chelsea

The boutique was adorned with fabrics that were shades and tones of purple, pink and white. Delicate mannequins were draped in her coquettish designs, and a scent of perfume filled the space.

It was a haven she had beautifully thought up for herself, and the thought had managed to garner her acclaimed and revered attention.

This shop in Chelsea was particularly popular, but now there was a quiet stillness of the Saturday evening, and it was a welcome change from the bustle of London during the daytime.

The clock struck 9 PM when Y/N entered the boutique, her sketchbook clutched in hand.

Her footsteps echoed through the front room and into the retail area before she entered her beloved office.

She shed her coat and placed her sketchbook down. She was about to settle into her desk chair with a few of her textiles in hand when she heard it ring.

"Oh, Christ."

She threw down her silks and needles onto the nearby couch. The telephone had begun ringing, and she knew it was going to continue incessantly. She also knew it was going to do her head in.

She toyed with the idea of ignoring it, or perhaps letting it ring a little longer. Maybe he'd give up. But it persisted, each chime a reminder of his stupid determination. The reason why she lingered to pick up, was because she knew exactly who was calling, and why he was calling.

Although his want was clear the first time they very briefly spoke on the phone, he wanted more than that, and that loosely intrigued her.

Mick had strategically been ringing every Saturday when he could. It was a way to let her know he wasn't going to let her get away easily, not without having some part of her. She sighed into her seat and focused on her book, flicking through concepts and sketches.

"Fucking hell, it's like clockwork for him."

Her patience had quickly worn thin and she leaned forward, her fingers navigated the rotary dial. The ringing had finally ceased, replaced by a muffled dialogue.

The phone's receiver, cool against her palm, spoke to her.

"Evening darling."

"Hello."

"Ah, Y/N, always a pleasure to hear your voice."

She was taken aback, yet swiftly regained her composure and brushed off his subtle flirt.

"What is it that you want, Mr Jagger?"

Mick's voice was ribbon and it flowed into one ear and right out of the other.

"Well, I was hoping for a chat with the most sought-after woman in London."

She couldn't suppress a scoff.

"Yes, yes, yes, of course, but what is it that you want?" She pressed dismissively.

"I want the pleasure of your company."

Y/N's brow quirked, feeling an incredulity.

"Company? Mr Jagger, we haven't even agreed to a meeting."

Mick was unfazed and pushed on.

"Well, Bianca adores your work, you know. She'd be over the moon to have you design for her."

She tutted, "Oh, how touching. I'm sure she would."

"You really should give her the wedding dress she deserves, Y/N. I promise you won't regret it."

Y/N's breath hitched, caught off guard by the sweet audacity of his words. He was, after all, soon to be wedded.

"I'm sure Bianca would be thrilled to hear you're so invested in her gown."

Mick chuckled.

"Well, she deserves nothing but the best, and you, you are the best."

"Do you have a penchant for dresses, Mick?" She teased.

His response was swift and sincere.

"I have a penchant for the woman making the dresses."

She giggled, unable to stifle the sound. His persistence was both exasperating and endearing.

Mick was still adamant.

"You're the perfect designer for this, Y/N. Please, just give me- us a chance."

"Mhm."

Mick had to find more fuel, any excuse or plea to see her.

"She's genuinely taken with your talent, Y/N. You're the only one she trusts for this."

Her resolve wavered, swayed by his flattery. With a soft sigh, she relented.

"Fine, fine. We'll meet."

He wasted no time in setting a date. "Yes, next Friday evening, preferably when we have the place to ourselves?"

"Ooh, just us, then?" She teased.

"I'd like that." He answered without hesitation.

She raised an eyebrow.

Mick's confidence remained unshaken.

"Regardless, love, I'll be waiting eagerly for our meeting, next Friday.

"Fine, next Friday it is."

She scrawled the date on a notepad, it was a flimsy agreement.

"I can't wait to see you, Y/N."

See he said. Why not meet? This was only business after all.

"Likewise, Mick, likewise."

"Y/N, you're a gem, you know that?"

"Oh, don't let this get to your head, Jagger. It's just a design."

"Just a design? This is Bianca's dream we're talking about!"

"Well, I wouldn't ever dream of standing in the way of your wedding would I?"

"And I wouldn't dream of keeping you waiting."

He had said that suggestively, although she didn't want to see it that way.

"Good. I have a reputation to uphold, after all, you know."

"And what a reputation it is."

She smiled and decided to cut his unwavering flattery short, "Goodbye, Mick."

"Goodbye, Y/N."

When Mick heard the click of the phone, it was a call back to reality, and that reality was enticing.

The Friday

The door chimed and Y/N was standing poised near the entrance for him. Mick wasn't alone. He had brought a photographer with him by the looks of it, and he seemed eager to capture every moment of this collaboration.

There was an attraction between them as they stood close.

He immediately extended his hand, the gesture was as smooth and as handsome as the man himself.

Mick's eyes traced the contours of her form. He wasn't one for simple impressions and wanted her to know he was intrigued.

"Mick." She greeted simply.

"Y/N, it's a pleasure."

He pulled her hand to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to her knuckles.

She cleared her throat, regaining her composure.

"Likewise. How have you been?"

"Nervous, very nervous, but I have faith in your talents, love."

"As you should." She said snarkily.

"You look even better in person, if that's possible."

"Oh. Thank you."

The unexpected compliment hung in the air, and a charged pause settled between them.

Her eyes flitted to her watch, cautious of time, even though they had lots of it.

"Well, Mick, you know it's bad luck for the groom to get too close to the dress before the wedding. You might have to stay away from me." She joked.

He smiled, and with that, Y/N turned, beckoning him to follow her to an office.

She couldn't shake the feeling of Mick's eyes being all over her.

When the door closed, the air seemed to shift. They were in a smaller more intimate space.

Mick settled into a plush chair, and his thoughts were consumed by the captivating designer who had finally walked into his life. She'd been in many other lives, whether through a purchase or a fling, but he was glad it was his turn now.

She cast a glance back at him as she ruffled through, "Make yourself comfortable, Mick."

Y/N bent over her desk as she rifled through the drawers. Mick watched her with an almost fascination. To him, she was a marvel, an artist in her element. Each motion seemed to carry a kind of ethereal grace that held him in attention.

With everything she needed gathered in her arms, she approached him and sat on the arm of the chair.

Y/N reached for a glass of wine, preparing for the storm that was going to be this wedding.

"So, what's on your mind, then?" She asked casually, taking a slow sip.

His eyes wandered over the sketches but he didn't seem to be all that interested, he seemed bored.

"This silhouette here." He pointed to a sketch of something puffy, and she thought that it didn't suit Bianca's figure. She also thought it seemed inappropriate to be chatting about the bride's dress with the groom, but whatever.

"How about this one, here instead?" Y/N flicked to a page of things more form-fitting and flat.

Mick's eyes looked to a particular design on the page, another choice that seemed miles away from Bianca's taste. "This one," he mused, his finger tapping the paper. "It's got a flair, a vibrancy. What do you think?"

She sighed and looked down at him, he had a stupid smile on his face, he'd had it since he had walked in.

"I think you're very distracted, Mick."

He let out a hearty laugh and swiftly took her cup of wine.

"What do you mean, darling?" he quipped, trying to sound innocent, though the cheekiness in his tone betrayed him.

With a sigh, Y/N stood up and carefully arranged everything on her rug.

She slipped off her shoes to get comfortable on the floor and undid the top button of her blouse.

"Come here, Mick." She gestured for Mick to join her, her voice was warm and inviting to him.

She looked sultry sitting on her rug, and he wondered if she was making an innuendo for them to shag on the floor or something.

Everything was spread out before them. Y/N's patience wore thin and she implored for the final time, "Are you going to be serious this time?"

"Hm..." He said childishly.

"No, Mick," she insisted, her voice firm. "Answer the question. Are you going to be serious this time?"

He relented, only because he liked her demand.

"Alright, I'll be serious," he declared, his arm moving to encircle her waist.

She removed his arm and shifted, settling on her knees.

Mick shifted his position to mirror hers. He sat on his knees, somewhat determined to focus.

"Thank you, Mick. Now, a pattern, any pattern you can think of."

"Something floral, understated but not dull, you know?"

She nodded resolutely and wrote notes whilst drawing little concepts beside them. Mick was watching in awe, she couldn't place why, this was the most boring part of it.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you since I got engaged. I'm enamoured with your work, you know." He confessed.

Why did he have to say since he got engaged, it sounded like he was expressing his love for her over Bianca, and she dreaded that thought.

"What do you mean?" She asked, timid.

"You're my favourite designer, Y/N. There's no one better."

She tutted and shook her head, "Oh, come now. I'm sure there are better."

"Nah, I'm convinced you're a creative genius." Mick giggled.

"And I'm convinced you have a way with words." She deadpanned.

"Trust me, Y/N. You're my favourite."

"Right. Well, let's discuss the dress. What colour are you envisioning?"

She changed the subject, fearing that what she thought Mick was thinking would materialise.

"How about orange?"

"Orange?"

"Yeah, why not?" He said sarcastically.

"Stop it now."

"Alright, alright, obviously white."

"Obviously, but what shade of white?"

"Dunno, suppose you'll have to surprise her."

"Okay." She groaned and rightfully decided she wasn't going to ask Mick for anything, ever.

She leaned over him to grab something, and his arm once again found its way around her waist, an intimate hold, like he was trying to show affection. It was a move that was becoming all too familiar, and she didn't like that.

"Come on, Mick," Y/N sighed, frustration evident in her voice. "What are you doing?"

Mick didn't want to beat around the bush, not with her.

"This is getting a bit dull, don't you think, love?" he suggested.

Y/N's brow furrowed in disbelief, struggling to keep up with the sudden turn of events. "What's gotten into you?"

"You haven't caught on yet?" he teased.

She mustered a shaky breath, "I did, but I was hoping you'd spare us both the bloody trouble."

"I haven't even scratched the surface, love."

His arm was still around her waist, so he pulled her closer until they were nose-to-nose.

He closed the distance between them, his lips meeting hers in a hard kiss.

Y/N moved back abruptly, her disgust palpable. "You've lost your mind, Mick. You're engaged, and I'm designing her dress. This is sick- you are sick."

He shrugged.

"Well, she's not the one, love. Not by a long shot."

"Then who is?"

Before she could process the weight of her own question, Mick kissed her. He started it soft. There was a gentle brush of lips, a mingling of breath. His arms circled her waist and as the kiss deepened, so did the intensity. Their tongues swirled together, tasting the wine they shared. The world outside seemed to blur, leaving only the spontaneous connection between them.

Y/N's hand remained on Mick's chest, her fingers curling against the fabric, her voice barely above a mumble as she uttered his name. Still, he didn't stop. Instead, he kissed her deeper, his hand moving to grab her bottom.

They both pulled away at the same time, their breaths mingling in the charged air. Mick's eyes held a mixture of desire and uncertainty as he looked at her.

He cleared his throat, "Should we stay here on the floor, or find a more comfortable spot?"

Mick was very confident, so confident he didn't bother to use perception, though he didn't need to in this circumstance.

"A couch sounds nice," she replied, mischief in her eyes.

They untangled themselves, their movements carried a sensuous grace. Making their way to the nearby couch on the other side of the room, the atmosphere seemed to thicken, the unspoken promise of what awaited them palpable in the air.

He took her by surprise, his hands pushed her forwards over the arm of the couch so she could be bent over for him.

Mick pulled her closer, his hands moving down her body as he unzipped the back of her skirt and eased it off her hips. He sighed with as the fabric rustled around her ankles. He tugged on the waistband of her tights and dragged them to the floor.

"Do you feel me, hm?"

He pressed himself into her and it was teasing both of them.

She looked back at him, "I feel you.."

The sound of leather on metal clinked in her ears as he pulled the belt from its loops. His trousers were made into a pile around his ankles, leaving him with his boxers.

Mick held her hips and pressed himself against her, she could feel the warmth of his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear.

His hands found her panties, he pulled them to one side and he thrust harder, pushing his erection against her bare cunt.

"Mm, Mick."

He thrust two fingers into her eagerly, enjoying the sensation of her cunt clenching around them. She giggled at the sudden intrusion, and he pushed his fingers in and out of her faster, eager for more. He moved his fingers more vigorously as she became wetter.

He removed his fingers, and pulled off his boxers. His cock bounced free; he couldn't wait any longer to be inside of her. He stroked himself twice, savoring the feeling. The head of his hardness was tapped against her entrance, then slid inside of her, inch by inch. He lightly stretched her open, allowing himself to fully enter. He groaned when he filled her up completely, and only slowly moved in and out.

He went from the tip of cock to the middle of his cock. She was so wet for him. He went balls deep a few times, light taps filled the room with each time he did so.

Her back arched as his dick slid in and out of her, the fuck was swift.

He drove into her with an intense passion. She looked back at him with wide eyes, a mix of pleasure and desperation.

Mick's thrusts were deep and unyielding, directly hitting her g-spot with every movement. Her walls clenched involuntarily as the sensation grew, seeming to never end.

Mick was getting close so he fucked into her harder. Her body slid back and forth beneath him, her stomach moving against the arm. She moved her hips back, urging him on.

"Fuck." He groaned.

He was getting close so he fucked into her harder. Her body slid back and forth beneath him, her stomach moving before the arm. The sensation of her warm skin made him shudder.

He pulled out just in time, his penis coated in sticky white fluid. She got up promptly to kiss him, excited.

Her lips clasped against his and for a moment it was as if no time had passed between them, but then she broke the seal of her mouth and trailed kisses down his chin and neck to his shoulder blade

They were giddy from their illicit activity, like teenagers sneaking away to do each other right under their parents' noses.

Well, it was under someone's nose.

#60s rock #vintage #the rolling stones #mick jagger #keith richards #brian jones #Mick Jagger x reader #rock music #fanfic

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