#The Last Of Us

[stars-for-circe]

Tongue Tied

Support Palestine

Tags / cw: EXTREMELY suggestive, oral fixation, fingers in mouth, tongue piercing, piercer!Ellie, choking, finger sucking, Ellie is kinda pervy?? WE USE CELSIUS GUYS. 19 CELSIUS!!!

The leather seat felt clammy below you, despite the gentle faux breeze coming from the air conditioning. Beside you, the small tray of sterile equipment, reminding you of why you were here in the first place.

You shivered. Fuck, who sets the AC at 19 degrees? Wrapping your arms around yourself, you began to regret the choice of wearing a tank top despite the weather outside. Outside, where you’d much rather be - where there wasn’t a room colder than the arctic, or a bunch of needles about to be stuck in you, or a stupid fucking leather seat digging right in-

“Cold? I can turn it up, if you want.”

Ellie Williams. The most popular piercer in the area. Either from her looks or her talent, you couldn’t tell - but it was probably both. Arms crossed as she leaned against the door, and a small, amused smirk on her face as she watched your antics.

“Um, no, it’s fine.” You said shakily - or shyly, rather - smiling through your chattering teeth after you found where the voice came from. You spontaneity was probably enough of an inconvenience, booking an appointment late at night where it was the only time Ellie could fit you in - so it would have been rude to make her wait any longer than necessary to get the piercing done and lock up.

“I’m Ellie, by the way.” She called out, before making a beeline from the doorway to the small station at the end of the room, keeping her head down the entire time. You hummed in response, just barely suppressing the ‘I know’ on the tip of your tongue, as she rubbed some of the sanitiser in and put the gloves on. Then, Ellie paused her movements, back still turned away from you as she raised her head.

“Although….” You held your breath. You could feel the smirk on her faced despite not being able to see it.

“…I’m guessing you knew that already, Jesse told me some pretty girl wanted me ‘specifically’, to pierce her today…”

“What?” You stuttered out, mentally blaming it on the chill, and not your lack thereof. This time, Ellie snickered, shaking her head softly as she turned around heading towards you.

“So, you gonna stick your tongue out for me?” Grin still on her face, she watched as you sputtered out a reply while she haphazardly grabbed the forceps off the equipment tray.

“W-what?”

“You’re here for a tongue piercing, aren’t you?”

…That sly little shit

You could only nod, too taken aback to do much else. The most you expected here was to get a damn good piercing from a really hot girl, what Ellie was doing to you was not planned in your little outing.

“Yeah? So open up, hon. Gotta mark where you want it.”

Now Ellie knew that she didn’t need to mark anything - she was so used to doing this that she could just eyeball it and still be accurate. But, she thought, being able to cup your face, while you oh so obediently stuck your tongue out for her, as she just slipped her thumb ever so slightly into your mouth under the guise of keeping you still, would make up for the extra labour.

Your mouth was warm. Even through the black latex she wore. Ellie could almost imagine how soft it would feel sucking her dick, how delicate you’d be while kissing along the silicone. Fuck, she’d moan out loud if she wasn’t careful - all from the pad of her thumb resting on your tongue. And the way it twitched and made a swallowing motion as the bitter taste of the marker hit your throat really didn’t help.

“Hah…” You made a small noise at the prolonged moment. Surely the marker didn’t need this long to deposit a tiny dot pigment?

Ellie quickly snapped out of it, ripping her gaze from your mouth to your eyes. Right, she was still piercing you today, nothing else. And the taste of the marker probably wasn’t pleasant enough to be placed there for so long…

“Uh- so, ‘m gonna get the needle now.” She stuttered out, before making a joke.

“Last chance to back out…..or tell me if you’re squeamish….”

Fuck, the needle was kinda of big. Like, really big. Was it really meant to be that big? For a moment you hesitated, wanting to back out of this all and go home. But then you looked at Ellie, holding the forceps in once hand, reaching to grab the needle with the other, and you really wondered if backing out and embarrassing yourself in front of Ellie Williams - because of a fucking needle - was worth it. It would be over quick, right?

“Um, no- I mean-” you coughed.

“No, not squeamish, so, yeah, ‘m ready…”

“Yeah? Just uh, take a deep breath, ‘n stick your tongue out when you’re ready.”

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth, and stuck out your tongue - just like Ellie said. For a moment, you flinched, feeling the cold press of the forceps clamping on your tongue, before you concluded that keeping your eyes open would lessen the surprises. In front of you was Ellie, although a lot closer than before. And this time, with the needle in her hand, facing you.

She nodded, for approval. And you could only look at her with wide enough eyes that you hoped conveyed your consent, before she slowly, and gently, put the needle through.

Now, if Ellie hadn’t been on the clock, if there weren’t a couple people at the register or a possible camera somewhere in the room, Ellie would have fucked you. She would have shoved the damn piercing in and shove you flat on the seat and she would have fucked you so hard you’d be numb the day after. But Ellie couldn’t.

Fuck, she wanted to, but she couldn’t. Because no matter how fucking hot you were, or how cute you looked staring so trustingly up at her with your cute fucking eyes while she shoved a needle in your mouth, or how your small breathy whine of pain when it went through made Ellie soak herself-

“I uh- ‘m gonna put the piercing through now. It’s gonna feel a bit pinchy for a second.”

She didn’t know if you wanted her back.

You scrunched your eyes a little, as the piercing went through, but discomfort finally turned into relief as you could finally put your tongue back in your mouth. Then it went quiet for a bit, the both of you not really knowing what to do next. Which was weird, because wasn’t Ellie used to doing this?

“Can I um, take a look?”

She stared at you, for a moment, almost like she was in thought, before nodding and reaching for the mirror and handing it to you. You held it up and stuck your tongue out once again. And, to your happiness, it looked really fucking good.

There was a chance you got a little too happy, however, as you smiled openly and started to almost flick your tongue about, looking at it from every angle imaginable. And maybe if you paid less attention to your new modification, and more on Ellie, you’d notice her focused stare on you. Well, your tongue, more like.

You’d have noticed her furrowed brows, deep in thought, her own mouth slightly open at the sight, and her fists clenching and unclenching, too. But you didn’t.

What you did notice, though, was her ripping the mirror out of your hands. Like an epiphany came to her about your piercing. She threw it on the table, making a loud clanging noise, before cupping your face with her hands on each side. She stayed like that for a while, staring at your now closed mouth and so close that you could feel her breath fanning on your face. And it took about five seconds before Ellie’s eyes widened and she realised how fucking weird she was being.

“Uh- fuck-” she began, almost like she was breathless. Her eyes flitted around the room and she shifted on her feet, until she could figure out what to say.

“Your piercing.”

“My…..piercing?”

“It’s crooked. Might be the backing but uh- I need to fix it.”

You raised a brow. Wasn’t Ellie mean to be a really good piercer? Maybe it was the piercing itself or something, you thought, as you nodded closely and opened your mouth. Slowly, you felt her right hand trail from your cheek to your lips, thumb pulling slightly on the bottom one before slipping her index into your mouth.

Shit, Ellie missed it so much. Albeit, it had probably been three minutes since she last had her fingers in your mouth, but it felt so good. Like they belonged there. She wondered how long she could keep this up, before you noticed what she was doing. She was almost worried you’d find out and get mad at her. But then she felt your tongue swishing along her index, and then she slipped her middle finger in too. And then, Ellie stopped giving a fuck.

And you couldn’t help but rest your cheek on the lasting hand on the side of your face, almost nestling into it as subtly as possible. Part of you knew this was unprofessional, that there were better ways to go about a fucked up piercing. But another part of you couldn’t help but like what Ellie was doing. And you couldn’t help but suck.

Ellie choked out a moan. She covered it up though, by talking.

“You need to stop moving. Here, let me just-”

“Ellie-”

“Shhh, don’t move.” She spoke so tenderly, almost whispering to you as her thumb stroked your cheek. Maybe it was the soft dominance she was extruding, or maybe it was because of how desperately fucking wet you already were. Either way, you listened.

You stayed still, as you felt the hand cupping you cheek slip down your jaw, and find its place on your throat. And you stayed still, as you felt her hand close around it and squeeze on either side.

“Can you stay still now, baby?” God, that made you feel fuzzy. That and the now limited blood circulation coming to your brain. Fuck, you never realised choking felt this good.

Ellie watched you, as your eyes drooped voluntarily, as drool started to slip out of your mouth while you were still sucking on her fingers. How you whimpered as her hold on your throat tightened - how your thighs rubbed together as she did that.

And you watched Ellie, through your hazy, droopy eyes, as her breathy pants got deeper, as she leaned even closer to you as her grip tightened, and as her eyes searched yours for some sort of response to a question she didn’t ask - but you knew she wanted the answer to. You sucked even harder. You let your tongue run along the ridged and bumps the gloves made on her finger. You swallowed so hard that her hand on your throat moved along in tandem.

“Shit- you- ohmygod-” Ellie’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and she whined. She was pleading you at this point.

And you nodded.

…Fuck it.

“You wanna fuck?” She mumbled breathily, taking a long, condescending glance at your body - the state of your body - and then another at the lock on the door. Running a hand through her hair, Ellie took a deep breath, before letting out a loose chuckle.

“God- s’is so fuckin stupid…” She ran her tongue along her teeth, scoffing at how eagerly, how desperately you looked at her. And this time, she answered her own question for you.

“…..Yeah, let’s fuck.”

Taglist: @happysparklingshadows @irelandzo @r3starttt @iamaboringrattat @genderfluidlesbain999 @slut4mascss @rxreaqia @kylorey25 @massivepeacefemme @elliewilliamsfavborderhopper @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @ratdungeon @elxarw @mariasabanahabanabana @vvynia @abbyshands @littlegingerperson5 @flowersforvi

#tlou2 #tlou #the last of us #the last of us 2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams the last of us 2 #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams smut

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. iv

to @mrsmando - without whom this insane story would never have happened in the first place. i love you i love you i love you thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me - it has been a blast. i hope you like where we turn out! love you guys always n forever x

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're a mom. it's time to get your shit together.

warnings: bon jovi mention straight out the gate, labor/delivery [i have never given birth. those of you who have are nothing short of remarkable. please forgive if some of this is a little inaccurate or vague], use of pain medication during birth, description of pain and post-birth recovery, super emotional reader, unprotected piv, oral, alcohol consumption. DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 12k

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

It’s September twenty-third.

Well, by now, it’s probably the twenty-fourth. You’ve been a little distracted, rolling between the sheets with your next-door neighbor for the last couple hours.

The wedding’s still going strong downstairs. The same Bon Jovi song has played three times over. Tommy has called Joel to ask where he is so much that Joel’s phone is now switched off and shoved to the bottom of his bag.

You’re slouched on the toilet in a sliver of moonlight. A fistful of tissue, panties loose around your ankles. Rolling your forehead side to side along the cool tile, heartbeat hammering between your temples.

Joel Miller – Joel fucking Miller – is in your bed. Naked, sweating, cock probably still half-hard.

This morning, the very idea of the man was an eyeroll. Stood in your mirror, promising yourself that this time tomorrow, it’ll all be over with.

This time in a month, it’ll be a foggy memory.

This time in a year, it –

His voice is muffled through the bathroom door. “Did you fall in, or somethin’?”

You snort. The milky moon blurs across your vision when you pull yourself upright. You swipe between your legs and stand, flushing the toilet.

“I needed a fucking breather,” you tease, tiptoeing back across the room.

Joel’s stretched out; a worked arm draped along the headboard. Sun-kissed to the middle of his bicep, paler across his shoulder. One leg bare on the mattress, the other under the sheets. They only just cover his modesty – dark hair trailing beneath light silk just in time.

He’s so big. It’s like you never really noticed until now. He takes up half the bed, laying like this. And sure, you’re halfway to fucked, but – has he always been so handsome?

You flop down beside him with a sigh, curling up in the burrow of sheets at his side. Your eyes trail up his body – the sheen of sweat up his side, the dark, damp hair under his arm. All the parts of him you’ve never seen before, will never see again.

You gulp. Quit fucking staring.

He doesn’t notice, anyway. He’s rubbing circles into his temples, grumbling. “How many goddamn times are they gonna play It’s My Life?”

“…for Tommy and Gina…” you nudge him, “…who never backed down…”

Joel chuckles, pulling his hand down his beard. “Twenty bucks says he’s changing that to Maria.”

“Oh, for sure. I ain’t going back down to listen to it, though.”

He hums in agreement, reaching over for his beer. His Adam’s apple bobs as he drinks.

“You owe me, by the way. This is my room, remember? My fucking minibar.”

He pauses, the bottle against his bottom lip. His eyes linger south of your chin before he answers, “I’m paying for the damn room.”

“Then I want a drink from yours. Make it even.”

He clicks his teeth and drinks again. “It’s one beer. Call it an early birthday gift.”

You frown. “When the hell’s your birthday?”

“Tuesday.”

“Bullshit.”

“Serious. The twenty-sixth.”

You push yourself up onto your elbows; chest bare and on display. And it’s a strange feeling, how little you care. Twelve hours ago, you didn’t know how close to sit next to him at the ceremony. How many times you could accidentally bump knees or brush elbows and it not be weird.

But in the last two hours, he’s made you come more times than you can count. More times than anyone you’ve ever been with before – that’s for sure. And you’ve repaid the favor: the proof is still dribbling out of you. Still dripping between your legs, all pearlescent and warm. You’re soaked, swollen, still sore from the size of him.

It’s a fucking strange feeling, that you don’t mind at all.

“How old are you turning?” you ask.

Joel swallows. He settles the beer on his sternum, thumbing the corner of the label. Sucks in a deep breath and says, “Forty-eight.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, eyes wide.

He turns slowly, glaring at you. “Hilarious,” he drawls, bumping the bottle against your tummy.

You hiss at the sudden chill. Wiping cold droplets from your skin, you swipe it from his grasp.

Joel pushes himself from the bed with a quiet groan and pads across the room. His cock sways with each step, an arrowhead of thick hair at its base.

He doesn’t seem to mind, either.

You tip your chin back, taking a hefty swig.

The pulsing bass is heavier, guitar squeal sharper, when he cracks open the window. Cool air sweeps past the scent of sex and settles softly on your skin.

The mattress dips again as Joel settles back into bed. He pulls the sheet over himself, silk falling over the stubborn shape against his thigh.

“Well,” you pass him the bottle, “happy birthday, old man. Here’s to forty-eight.”

“Here’s to forty-eight,” Joel echoes, staring off into space, “and whatever the hell it has in store.”

1:29. 1:29. 1:30.

It’s blurring across your vision. The pain and the panic and the blinking of your fucking alarm clock.

Your stomach is still tensed in the aftermath of the contraction; an ache like the slow sway of the ocean, a wave rolling off into the distance. You’re hunched over the edge of the bed – knee bouncing, palms kneading your round belly.

“We’re okay,” you whisper, blowing into the still night. “We’re fine. Maybe it isn’t labor, right? Maybe it’s just those…Braxton…shit…Hicks.”

The cicadas laugh as your uterus swings again.

Another kick of pain; a bolt that winds you, piercing from your stomach down between your legs. So slow it feels fucking personal.

Your back curls, nails digging into the mattress. You grit your teeth until it passes, then push yourself to your feet, reaching for your phone.

You think of Joel: the flecks of gold in his eyes, the rough surface of his palms. The fresh, woodsy scent woven into every thread on his shirt, seeping from every pore on his skin.

The way he’d pull you under his arm and walk you to his truck. Play more Eagles or whatever shit he has to take your mind off the pain – tell you he knows, he knows as you whimper in agony. The way he’d hold your thigh the entire ride, loosening it only to weave his fingers through yours.

He’s in Houston, though. He’s something like three hours away. There’s nothing he could do, even if you did call – even if he did pick up. Even if he got in his truck right this second.

Shit. Shit fuck shit. How are you in labor right now, on this fucking night? All your teasing, all your taunting the universe. You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?

Yeah. They’re half you.

You’re on your own. It’s nothing new; you’ve been on your own for most of your life. You drove yourself to college, worked your ass off, and sold your graduation guest tickets to your roommate. You found a job by yourself, moved back to Austin and turned it into home by yourself.

You haven’t needed anyone or anything, since you were eighteen.

But – oh, Jesus, fuck it. This was a two-man job from the start. Some things you figure you can let slide – and having a kid seems like a pretty decent excuse.

Fuck it.

You move, hunched and hobbling, to the bathroom door. Slumped against the wooden frame, you cup a hand between your legs.

Sure enough, your underwear is soaked. The fluid trickles down the seam of your thigh, warm and thin. It glistens in the moonlight when you lift your fingers.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Goddamn it, Duck.”

Body tingling and almost numb with pain, you scroll through your contacts to J. You stumble into the bathroom, wet fingers slipping around the sink. A weight begins to pull low between your hips.

Two rings and the tone cuts, his voice instantly spilling a cool comfort down your spine.

There’s no hello, no double checking that you haven’t accidentally dialed him in your sleep. Only that trademark drawl, that flat tone you’d swear sounded bored, if it weren’t for the haste with which Joel asks, “You okay?” the second he answers.

As if he were awake anyway, just waiting for your call.

“Yeah,” you choke, rubbing the nape of your neck. “I just called at one in the morning to…to say hi.”

He sighs, the crackle of breath echoed by the tinkle of wind chimes. The creak of wood as he settles into a chair on Vanessa’s parents’ porch. “Alright, smartass. What is it?”

“I’m…I’m in labor.”

“Mhm. That sure is funny, baby. Good one.”

You groan. “No, Joel, I swear – I swear, I just went into labor.”

He pauses. The chimes titter in the background. “You’re…You ain’t kidding me?”

The sharp peak of pain swipes the air clean from your lungs. The phone hits the sink with a clatter, drowning out your cry.

This kid is beating the ever-loving shit out of you. You’d be embarrassed if you had the energy to think about it.

“Baby?” Joel yells, loud enough that the sound loops around the bowl. His voice lifts to an octave you didn’t know it could reach. “Talk to me. Please, talk to me.”

Your fingers clamp around the phone. “I’m f-fine. It’s fine. I just gotta…gotta change my fuckin’ sheets, Joel, my waters broke while I was sleeping –”

“Oh, Christ,” he growls. The door squeals as he storms back into Vanessa’s family home. “The sh…Change the goddamn sheets? You gotta get to a hospital, darlin’!”

You laugh, head tipping back. “It’s fine,” you tell him. “Feels like the kid’s trying to kill me, but I can – shit, I can take ‘em.”

There’s the jangle of keys, the ruffle of a shirt being thrown over his head. “Yeah?” Joel says.“You can take childbirth, all on your own? Do me a favor and call a damn ambulance, baby.”

“An ambulance,” you repeat, laughing again.

“Yes, an ambulance. Call 9-1-1 right now. You want me to call ‘em? Let me go grab the landline –”

“Joel, do not call an ambulance –”

And if you thought you’d heard him at breaking point before – plucking your underwear from his lawn, dragging you around Home Depot, paling in your room with a pregnancy test in his hands – you know you have, now.

“You gotta get to a goddamn hospital now, baby!”

His voice trembles at its end, quivers like the pluck of a guitar string. A high-pitched echo, a nervous vibration.

Joel’s panicking.

It’s the second thing in less than five minutes that you never knew he could do.

“I can’t afford a f-fucking ambulance, Joel,” you yelp, sitting back on the edge of the bathtub.

“I will pay for it,” he pleads, “I’ll pay. Just – you gotta call them. You gotta…” He sighs again, breath wavering. “You’re in labor, and you’re alone. If anything happened to you, I –”

A hushed voice interrupts him. Follows him through the house, knotting her nightgown around her waist and twisting her dark tresses into a ponytail.

“She’s in labor,” Joel tells her. “I can’t stay. I’m going back for her.”

The porch door slams shut before Vanessa can reply, and Joel’s back outside again. Gravel crunching beneath his boots, crickets screaming in the background. “Still with me?” he asks.

“Still here,” you breathe, tracing your nails along your leg. “Duckie says hi, I guess.”

He hums. “Hi, Duckie. You little shit.”

You rock back and forth, eyes closed. Breathing between contractions, your head low between your shoulders. “How long will you be?”

The truck door creaks open. “I’m leaving right now. I’ll be…Fuck, I’ll be a couple hours, at least. I’m on my way, alright?”

Tears drip onto your bare thighs, the salt spilling into your mouth. “Joel,” you shake your head, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes, you can,” he says. “Are you kidding? Got us this far ‘n now you want to bail? That ain’t you, baby. Come on, now.”

“I wanna bail,” you insist. You slump to the floor, head lolling over the rim of the bathtub. Weeping like a little kid. “I’m scared, Joel. I’m so scared.”

“I know you are. Lord knows I’m scared, too – scared as hell. But –” the engine roars to life, “– I can’t wait to finally meet this kid. Our kid. Can’t wait to hold ‘em. Can’t wait to see you become a mom, and me become a dad.”

“Mom and Dad,” you whisper, sniffling.

“Mom and Dad, right? Yeah. You can do this. I know you can.”

The bathroom blurs behind your tears. You close your eyes, replacing the pale night with warmer dawn. Replacing it with images of tiny hands and feet; missing front teeth and a love-worn teddy tucked safely into bed.

Joel’s voice is softer, kinder. Calmer, now that he’s closing the hundred and fifty miles between the two of you.

“Just – don’t let the kid give you any shit, alright?”

The fear boils into determination. Something more irritating than it is terrifying. You inhale, blowing a heavy, shuddered breath to the ceiling. “Whatever, Miller.”

“Attagirl,” he says. “That’s the spirit. Now, call a damn ambulance.”

With a scoff, you push yourself to your feet, waddling towards the foot of your bed. You sway back and forth, holding your bump and listening to the hum of Joel’s truck.

And then you hear it.

Three sharp raps, from downstairs.

You wander to the hallway, squinting in the dark. “Joel?”

“Hm?”

“Are you…?”

The sound grows louder the nearer you draw. Quick knuckles against your front door.

“Am I what, darlin’?”

You lower yourself down the stairs, fist tight around the rail.

It’s August again. Sun’s encore blazing through your kitchen windows, bleeding golden through your living room. Everything shining, everything new and untouched.

Knock knock knock.

Light satin, duck egg blue; string lights and a diamond-encrusted necklace. The bones of your wardrobe propped against your porch. A rattling toolbox hanging from his fist, a positive pregnancy test in yours.

The knocking halts when you flick the porch light on. She calls your name once, old voice quivering.

Your phone is still glued to your ear as you pull the door open. “Al…?”

She squints at you and lifts a hand to shield from the light. She’s still in her pajamas – green dressing gown loose and lifting in the breeze.

Her eyes drop to the tee draped over your bump, the silver stream of fluid down the inside of your thigh. As she opens her mouth to speak, your hand slams into the doorpost.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan, and Alice Brown steps straight over the threshold.

“Are you in labor? Oh, sweetie. Sit down, sit.”

She backs you towards the stairs. One bony, trembling hand around yours – squeezing as tight as you are. She rubs up and down your spine, shushing until the pain subsides.

You blink up at her glowing figure, haloed by the porch light outside. “How did you…?”

She hushes you with a finger in the air. “I’m up most nights. I heard you from the window. Have you called 9-1-1?”

You shake your head, beginning to cry again.

Alice just nods, dismissing your bullshit. “Where’s your overnight bag, sweetheart?”

You toss a thumb over your shoulder. “It’s up in the nursery. I can go grab it –”

She holds you still with a hand on your shoulder. “Stay.” Another curt nod, then, “Get your shoes, get yourself over to my car. Do you need pants? You need pants. My car, right now.”

“Alice, you really don’t have to –”

“Get in the car,” she insists, climbing past you. “I’m right behind you!”

You watch her figure dissolve into the dim upstairs, and lift the phone back to your ear. “Did you…hear all that?”

“Alice Brown,” Joel replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “What’d I tell ya? That woman doesn’t miss a goddamn thing in this neighborhood.”

“Three centimeters,” the obstetrician says, covering your legs with the sheet. “Still a little ways to go.”

The suite is hushed and still. Walls an unoffending shade of oatmeal; decorated only with oak paneling and a framed painting of some lilies.

A nurse tilts the shades, averting the twinkling city lights in the distance. She turns and smiles – the same fucking smile everyone’s been giving you since you set foot in the place. Head tilted, brows arched.

Sympathy that you want to chew up and spit back out at their feet.

You force yourself to smile in return, and she floats back out to the bustling reception.

“Will he make it?” Alice asks. She’s still in her pajamas; the floral print goes well with the interior of the room. “The father, I mean. Joel.”

The obstetrician peels the gloves from her hands. She shrugs as she drops them into a wastebin. “I don’t see why not,” she says. “Things are moving a little quickly, but I don’t see you having your baby in the next couple hours.”

“You don’t know this kid like I do,” you groan, shifting in the bed.

She lifts the cardiotocograph reading, scanning the jagged lines. “You’re doing great,” she says. “I’ll be back in a little while. Just holler if you need anything.” She strolls off, letting the door sweep shut behind her.

Alice adjusts your pillow and squeezes your shoulder. She holds out a cup of water, guiding the straw to your lips. “He’ll be here,” she whispers.

You take a sip and settle back. “I don’t think I’m that lucky. I told him I hoped he’d get a flat on the ride there. This feels like karma.”

“Well, if it’s anyone’s karma –” she wiggles her fingers, “– it’s his. Going to Houston was ridiculous in the first place. Hell, you two not being together is ridiculous.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Just because we’re having a kid doesn’t mean we should be together. You shouldn’t be with someone for the sake of a baby who won’t even know any different.”

“Right, right,” Alice agrees, turning away. “You should only be with someone if you love them.”

“Exactly. And me and Joel – we’re not in love.”

She murmurs to herself. She lowers into a chair by the window, crossing her arms. “I’m seventy-three,” she says. “I’m not a damn fool.”

Something twists awkwardly between your hips. You wince, clutching your bump.

Duckie’s heartbeat pulses through the room. Muffled little bubbles of noise, popping one after the other. Strong and steady as hell – a determined little thing, the doctor said.

Don’t I fucking know it, you thought.

You reach for the silicone mask and cup it over your mouth. The gas is cold and funny when you inhale, feeling it shoot straight for the back of your skull. It does little more than dull the spiking pain, but still – you tip your head back, eyes rolling closed.

You let yourself fade from the suite – its yellow lamplight and hushed chatter outside – to somewhere warmer. Somewhere brighter.

Birdsong high overhead, and the whispering leaves on the oak trees in your yard. The sweet breeze on your skin, soothing the sting of the sun. Prickling wood on your fingertips, the gentle strum of a guitar somewhere beyond the fence.

Peering between the slats, catching glimpses of him like watching a film reel. His head nodding, his foot tapping. The concentration tight on his face; the perfect pick and pluck of his fingers on each string.

Half-hoping that he’ll spot you, scold you for spying and storm back into his house. That he might bring it up later – And another thing, while he whips his newspaper from your grasp, ignoring your cackling.

Half-hoping that he won’t. That he’ll sit there at his back door, bottle of beer at his feet, playing to his audience of sparrows.

And you’ll stand here, wishing you could ask the name of each song he hums.

The contraction splits your daydream in two.

In two hours, you dilate almost three centimeters.

You pace back and forth across the suite, pausing only when your womb clenches like a fist. The contractions are lasting longer, swinging lower, and punching harder. They’re giving you less recovery time; less of a chance to get back on your feet.

It’s a fucking nightmare.

Joel’s still not here. Last you heard, he’d just hit Travis County. Twenty minutes, baby, I promise. That was half an hour ago.

It might be for the better that he hasn’t gotten here. You’ve warned Alice three times already that you might just beat the shit out of him, whenever he walks through that door.

And you know what, sweetheart? She chuckled. I bet you could beat the shit out of him, sore as you are.

“Fuck,” you cry out, collapsing onto the bed. You stretch out forward, head hanging between your shoulders, and gulp back more of the laughing gas. The ache barrels from your stomach to your hips, peaking in the very center.

Alice rubs circles into the small of your back. It’s not helping, but you let her do it anyways. Gives her something to tell the neighbors that isn’t damaging to your reputation.

“That’s it,” she coos. “A little longer, just a little…”

The door clicks open just as the tense band begins to loosen.

Your head is spinning. The mask slips from your fingers.

Alice’s hand pauses. “…a little longer…” she repeats, voice drifting. Her weight leaves your back, replaced by something heavier, stronger.

Safer.

Someone grounding, someone smelling of pine and sweet spice.

He sits on the bed at your back and curves around your body. Lips to your shoulder like the sun in your backyard. His beard scratches against your hot skin.

You blink your eyes open.

Joel’s watch face winks back at you. His hands are over yours – bigger, wider. His fists swallow yours whole. They turn, slipping beneath your palms, and your fingers lace together.

“Joel…” you breathe, face turning in to his neck.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he says, wiping sweat from your brow.

You fall limp against his chest. “Holy shit.”

He looks exhausted. Gray, almost translucent. Looks like he’s just driven a couple hundred miles, half asleep and wholly panicked.

But – he’s here. He made it.

The sight of him, the feel of him holding you upright, melts away any anger or resolve to fight back. For now, at least. Picking an argument can wait until there isn’t a human splitting you in two.

He’s here. You’re not doing this alone.

“Holy shit,” Joel repeats. “You okay?”

“How did you get here so –?”

“Ninety-five the entire way.”

You frown. “Only ninety-five?”

“Trunk’s a hunk a’ shit,” he admits. “Couldn’t break a hundred.”

Alice scoffs, somewhere across the room.

He cradles you, his lips to your forehead. “Where we at?” he asks, staring at the paper churning from the cardiotocograph.

“Five, almost s–shit – six centimeters.” You clamp down on his hands, your uterus winding again.

Joel holds the mask back to your lips and you suck another chemical breath in. “Six? Jesus,” he gapes at Alice, “ain’t that…ain’t that real fast? For – for your first?”

Your fingers are weak and shaky, resting on his knuckles. “Your kid has a sick sense of humor,” you mutter into the silicone.

“That ain’t from me,” he says. “That’s all you, maestro.”

You turn closer into his shirt with a groan. He’s solid as a rock, swaying you through it. He’s here.

Alice swipes her coat from a hook by the door. She shakes her head, pulling it over her shoulders. “Ninety-five, Joel? Sweet Lord.”

He rolls his eyes. His hand curves around your bump. “Had a little bit of an emergency, Alice,” he says, watching your face twist with pain.

“And what if you’d had an accident?”

“I didn’t, Alice.”

“You could’ve, goin’ that damn fast. You’re lucky you’re even here.”

Joel finally looks up. “It’s four in the mornin’,” he protests, like a teenager. “Lucky if I passed five cars.”

You give him a weak smile, lowering the mask. You won’t win, you mouth.

He presses his lips to your head. “’s too much fun,” he murmurs, and you snort.

“Oh!” Alice throws a hand up. “I’m glad you find it funny!” She buttons her coat and glares back at both of you, hands on her hips.

She’s a busybody – has been since before you even moved in. She showed up on your doorstep on your first night with a casserole in hand, and made sure to get a good look at your living room before she shuffled back to her own place.

Always watching, always listening.

You never thought you’d see the day when you’d actually be thankful for her snoopiness.

“Thank you, Alice,” you say, head tilting. “For getting me here, for holding my hand…Thank you.”

Her expression thaws, eyes gleaming. With a sniff, she composes herself – and then points to Joel. “You call me as soon as that baby arrives. I won’t sleep, Joel, until you call.”

“I’ll call,” he assures.

She looks back at you. Balls her crepe paper fists, gives them a hearty shake. “Good luck, Mom,” she says, and with one last glance, slips out of the room.

Joel turns back to you, an eyebrow raised. “Take it she was out tendin’ to her tulips again?”

“Yeah,” you snicker, “one in the morning, those fuckers had to be watered.”

He chuckles. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Better now,” you tell him.

“I’m so sorry, darlin’,” he says, shaking his head. “I should’ve been here. A goddamn idiot, headin’ off like that. So damn stupid.”

“Shh, you’re here now.” You wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes. “I just needed you to be here.”

He nods. “I’m here, whatever you need. Tell me what I can do.”

You take a deep breath. “I need…”

Joel straightens – bracing, ready to jump at your first request.

“…I need a fucking break, Joel. I’m so tired, and this fucking kid –”

“Alright,” he sighs, shifting from behind you. “You and your goddamn jokes.”

You smirk, looking over your shoulder. “You missed me.”

“Hm,” he fixes the neckline of your gown, “I missed you. I really did.”

Born at 07:43. It’s a girl.

It’s like being broken open. Like splitting at the seams; your old self falling from you like shards of fruit. Separating, rolling apart; making way for someone older, wiser. Someone with all of the answers in the palm of her hand.

Mom.

You finally get it. She turns to you, finally glances over her shoulder. And she’s no stranger – no one you haven’t known your entire life. I know you, you whisper, nail trailing her smile lines and the pimples along her jaw.

I see you every time I look in the mirror.

Duckie is pulled from your body with a scream like bloody murder – a scream which matches the whimper you let out in shock, if not in volume.

The kid can scream. Jesus Christ, she can scream. It pierces the dull room; deafens you for a couple seconds the first time you hear it.

You’ve never heard a sound so fucking beautiful.

She wails as they lift her from your body. All curled-up, wriggling in the midwife’s arms. She wails as they slot her beneath your chin, as they wipe the blood and amniotic fluid from her.

She wails until the moment her skin meets yours, and as though it’s all you’ve ever known, you begin shushing her cries. Your arms close around her body, rocking her until she settles.

Her tiny hand grabs for something, for someone, for –

You.

Her mom.

“Joel,” you gasp, watching her tiny, pruned fingers clasp tight around just one of yours. “She’s…she’s so small…”

He sniffs in reply, lifting his hand from your shoulder to wipe his face.

You turn to look up at him.

He looks as broken open as you feel. Eyes bloodshot and soaking, tears streaming into his thick beard. A sob in his throat which chokes and silences him, until he catches your eye and he can’t help but laugh with elation.

“Look at her,” he weeps, all torn up by the little girl in your arms. He presses his lips to your forehead in a crash of a kiss: wet, soaking wet on your skin.

You beam up at him when he pulls away. “We did it,” you whisper.

Joel shakes his head. He runs a thumb across the damp print left on your head. “You did it, honey,” he mutters. “I was nothin’ but a spectator.”

“You almost missed the game,” you quip, and he laughs again.

Your body throbs; nearly numb with pain, heavy with fatigue and emotion. But as long as she’s here, this tiny tornado of a girl, you don’t feel a thing.

Clenching and then unclenching her fist around your finger – so delicate compared to the punches she was throwing at your ribs just six hours ago. She’s worth every fucking second of it.

You finally fucking get it.

She fits so perfectly in the crook of your arm. It feels as though your body was made just to hold her – the very shape of you, designed especially for the very shape of her.

You wonder whether it was the same for your mom. Whether you came along and made her feel whole, for the first time in her life.

Duckie’s eyes open – all glossy and brand new, blinking up at the both of you like she needed no introduction. She already knows you, from the inside out. Her dad’s graying beard, the threads of silver around his temples. Her mom’s tear-stained cheeks, eyes red and bleary with sleeplessness and pure love.

You’re Mom, you’re Dad.

It’s all she’s ever known.

The pillow sighs as you lean back into it. The doctor begins repairing the damage done between your legs; threading and knitting your body back together.

You’re caught between a state of bliss and shock. Your brain is doing much the same work to itself as the woman between your knees is. Patching over all the bloody parts: the screams which tore your skin, the pain which cracked your teeth.

None of it holds a candle to the weight of her in your arms. No matter how tired you are, you can’t take your eyes off her. Her puffy cheeks, the little creases between her brows. No matter how sore, you never want to let go of her.

Joel runs a finger down Duckie’s cheek. “Ain’t she the most beautiful thing in the world?”

“I love her,” you say, bubbling again. “I love her more than anything.”

An hour old, and she’s already a daddy’s girl.

Joel ambles back and forth at the foot of your bed in the recovery suite, bouncing Duck in his arms. He’s never looked so relaxed, so natural at something. He’s never seemed so content, so peaceful.

Everything he’s ever made with his hands – structures and framework and your goddamn closet – and yet this, this tiny accident, this baby girl you were so sure you’d dreamt up right up until an hour ago –

This is the thing he’s proudest of.

Morning lifts through the windows, all soft and vanilla. It floats around him, sunlight spilling across his skin and breathing life and color into him.

Sunlight – or his daughter. They’re the same thing, anyway.

You pull apart a slice of toast, watching. Just watching. Sweet strawberry jam on your tongue, the flavor of everything sharper, fresher. The colors brighter, more vivid.

The world makes more sense like this, you think. Painted in shades of honey and ochre; a room in a corner of the world where time slows to a halt. A soft lullaby from his lips, and the little coos from hers.

The ache of love and labor lingers deep inside you, and nothing has ever made more sense.

You suck the sticky sweet from your fingertips.

Joel looks up, toying with Duckie’s hand. “You want her back?” he asks, a dumb grin on his face.

You shake your head. “I like watching you.”

He scrunches his nose, nuzzling it against his daughter’s, and whispers, “I wasn’t gonna give you back, anyways.” He sways in the early light, staring down at her. “Jesus,” he mutters, swiping at his eyes again, “I didn’t…I didn’t know I could love somethin’ this much.”

“Me, either.”

He drifts over, lowering himself slowly onto the edge of the bed. He extends his elbow, still cradling the baby, and helps you pull yourself upright.

You hiss, a not-so-subtle sting between your legs.

“You, uh…you think of a name yet?” Joel asks.

“Not yet,” you reply, hooked onto his shoulder. Duck blows a bubble and you wipe it with your knuckle. “I thought we were sticking with Duckie?”

His cheeks swell. The sun kisses the edges of his beard. “I thought of one,” he says softly. “Maybe. It’s your call.”

You yawn into his shirt, the warmth of him calm and soothing. “Alright, Miller. Hit me.”

He looks down at the baby nestled in his safe hands. The smallest thing either of you have ever seen.

The name must roll around his head a few times, the way he tilts to-and-fro – looking at her from one angle, then the next. Deciding, when he pulls back, that she suits it from every direction. Like it was her name long before he or even you knew it.

You watch his lips shape the name before you hear it.

Sarah.

And for what feels like forever, you just stare at him. The syllables lingering in the air like glistening specks of dust in a sunbeam. Your eyes follow them down to your daughter, now sleeping peacefully with two hands around one of her dad’s thumbs.

“Sarah,” you repeat, remembering whose name it was, whose name it is – whose name it has always been. “Sarah Miller.”

Joel’s shoulders lift. “What do you think? She look worthy of bein’ a Sarah?”

The rustle of tissue paper. Blue and green and purple tearing between your fingers. The funny fuzz of pom poms as your hands rummaged through the bag. Her hand swimming towards you, an orange foam fish riding the waves between her fingers. Bubbly sounds erupting from her lips.

Your girlish giggle. Her silly grin. Hopscotch along the sidewalk; stopping to look for cars before she’d walk you across the street. How much do I love you, baby girl?

More than the whole world, Mama.

“I love it,” you breathe, tears running to the corners of your mouth. “Sarah fucking Miller.”

“Sarah fuckin’ Miller,” Joel echoes; two wet lines the same as yours, curving down his cheeks. He shifts her into the crook of his arm.

You’re impossibly close. Your chin rests on his shoulder, foreheads brushing when you lean in to each other. His breath is hot on your lips, closer and closer and closer until –

He tastes like salt, rich with emotion. Salt, and then sweet when your tongue meets his. He lifts his free hand to cup your cheek, and your fingers link around his wrist.

And you know you shouldn’t be doing it – know this isn’t your man to be kissing. But in this room, where no one else can see – where it’s just you, him, and all the best parts of yourselves shaped into someone better – he feels like yours.

Just for a moment.

Joel takes the first week of Sarah’s life off work.

He spends a good twenty minutes on the phone to the contractor, talking more about the kid than he does the job. Her eyelashes, her fingernails, the way her legs scrunch anytime he lifts her up.

He’s besotted with the entire thing. And he tells everybody so.

He moves in with you both, stays in your guestroom. It’s a week of no sleep, no peace, and a total of three showers between you. Wearing the same clothes covered in spit-up and drool until one of you has the time or energy to do laundry.

It’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. By your count, you’ve already cried three times to Joel – terrified you’re getting it all wrong.

But you’re doing it. Jesus God, you’re doing it.

You order takeout most nights. You can’t stand long enough to cook just yet, and you don’t trust Joel not to burn your fucking kitchen down – despite his protests. And it feels like, after everything your body’s given you, it deserves a greasy pizza and some chicken wings.

You rot on the couch together, watching shitty TV and arguing over reruns of Jeopardy! – until Sarah wakes and the whole thing begins again.

Joel loses the game of rock, paper, scissors tonight.

“Shh, baby girl. ‘s alright now, I gotcha,” he lulls, tucking her back in to her bassinet.

She fusses and stretches out; arms over her head, legs curled up. Her onesie is still a little too big – the socked feet all baggy, the sleeves rolled up her wrists.

He lingers for a moment as she drifts off, a hand stroking her tummy. Watching, always watching her. The rise and fall of her stomach, the puffs of breath from her nostrils, her lips still suckling away in her sleep.

“I swear I have a baby photo that looks just like her,” you say. “Same nose and everything.”

Joel clicks his teeth. “Got her looks from her mom. Lucky thing.”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you snort.

He drifts back over, sinking into the couch at your side. “Doin’ okay?” he asks, and you nod.

Every muscle in your body still feels like a ton weight. Your stomach is still swollen; there are still stitches between your legs. There are moments you can’t tell if you’re crying because of hormones, exhaustion, or joy.

Every time, it’s a combination of all three.

Life before feels so long ago – and it hasn’t even been a fortnight. But then you held her for the first time, and now – your arm misses the weight of her when she’s not in it. Your house feels eerily quiet when she’s not laughing, or whimpering, or screaming the fucking roof down.

You can feel your daughter growing up already, and she’s only ten days old.

On the mantelpiece, safe in a stippled gold frame, your mom beams down over her. The photo at least twenty years old, the memory even older. Laughing, the way she always was; nothing quite so funny as a joke frozen in time.

Joel prods you with his elbow. “She’d be proud of you, you know. Your mom.”

“Oh,” you scoff, “no, she’d be like, Holy shit. This kid totally kicked your ass.”

He chuckles. “Sure she did,” he shrugs, “she’s your kid.”

The TV babbles to itself across the room. In its glow, Joel meets your eye. A tiny, pearly fleck swimming in deep honey.

It’s familiar – each shade of bronze in his eyes, each thread of silver through his hair. Like you’ve mapped each and every line on his skin, collecting them like the sleepless hours between you.

Everything about him feels so normal. Burnt toast in the morning, a spoon clinking around a mug of coffee. The rustle of the newspaper, the sizzle of eggs in the pan, the baby snoring on your chest.

Everything – and yet nothing you’ve ever known.

“I miss her,” you whisper. “I miss my mom.”

His hand finds yours instantly. “I know, baby. I know you do.”

You slouch down, leaning on his shoulder, and close your eyes. Joel presses his lips to the crown of your head, his thumb looping around your knuckles.

Sarah gurgles in her sleep. She sighs – a satisfied little sound. Nothing has ever made more sense.

His voice rumbles against your skull. “Who sent the lilies?”

Your eyes flutter open. “Hm?”

Joel flicks his finger towards the window, towards a sprawl of speckled, cream flowers. “The lilies? They weren’t there this morning.”

“Oh…” You turn to look up at him, cringing.

He sees the flicker of her behind your eyes. Her lustrous curtain of hair, her perfect almond nails.

“Really?” Joel asks, mirroring your expression.

You nod, trying not to laugh. “From her and Kate. You were upstairs with Sarah when she came by. I offered to call you down, but – she just wanted to drop ‘em and go.”

“What did she…? Did she say anything?”

Your head shakes. “She just…she said congratulations, said she hoped we were okay. Then she got in her car and she left. I kinda figured things weren’t sunshine and roses, anyway. You haven’t fuckin’ seen her since Houston.”

He snorts, fingers massaging his eyes. “I was goin’ to tell you,” he mumbles into his palms, “I just…Honey, I don’t even know what day of the week it is right now. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” you mutter.

“Yes, I do,” he insists. His eyes flit over to Sarah, then back to you. “We haven’t really talked it through yet, me ‘n her. I called her a few days ago, we agreed it’s time. It – it’s past time. I shoulda called it months ago.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “Are you okay?”

Joel’s brow furrows. “’course I am. I got the most beautiful baby girl in the world,” and then, rolling his eyes, “you’re here.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you clip, batting his arm. “Vanessa could do way better, anyways.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

You squeeze his fingers, softly adding, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Joel.”

He stares down at your clasped hands. He looks tired, worn out. You figure it’s not just from the newborn. But he takes a deep breath, something the color of relief dawning on his skin, and looks you dead in the eye.

“I’m not.”

­“Hey, Duckie – can you say, Happy birthday, Daddy?”

A vinyl wobbles on the turntable – some acoustic record from when Joel was a teenager. There’s wrapping paper still crumpled beneath the coffee table; four plates with more crumbs than cake left, dotted around the room.

Tommy leans in, a lopsided party hat on his head, and tickles Sarah’s chin.

She blinks at him, unamused, then scrunches her little nose and turns back into your chest.

He sighs, straightening. “She don’t like her uncle Tommy all that much,” he grumbles, sulking back over to the couch. Maria puts a consoling arm around his shoulder.

You rest your lips on Sarah’s head, breathing in her sweet scent. Swaying back and forth, you tease, “She don’t like anyone all that much, not unless they’re her daddy.”

Joel’s head lifts and he smiles, eyes glistening. He watches you and Sarah dance; laughs when you twirl her around and she tips her head back, flashing a gummy grin.

“She’ll come around to ya,” he tells Tommy, wandering over to your side. “We all learned to, eventually.”

Tommy scoffs. “Very funny, old man. Jesus.”

Joel stoops down to let Sarah run her small hands through his beard. He catches her fingertips between his lips and pretends to nibble on them.

She giggles, squirming in your arms. Her fingers find the sweeps of hair on his forehead and, taking a fistful, she tugs.

“Christ,” Joel hisses, pulling back.

“That was on you this time,” you chuckle, pointing a finger. “You know she does that, and you still fall for it.”

Maria glances down at her watch. “Is that the time?” she asks, turning to Tommy. “We should really turn in.”

“Oh – right, right.” Tommy tips the last of his beer into his mouth. “We’re takin’ Mom to brunch tomorrow. Better get some goddamn rest.”

Joel hums, still massaging his hairline. “Hey,” he whispers, elbowing you. “Maybe I should take her over. She’s getting sleepy – ain’t you, little Duck?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Tommy stands and holds a hand out. “Why don’t you let Maria and I take her? We’ll tuck her in, keep an eye on her. We weren’t half bad the other day, while y’all were at work. And if she’s stayin’ at Joel’s tonight anyway…”

You glance to Joel, who shrugs. Something shaped like Sure.

“As long as you don’t mind,” you reply, bouncing the baby slowly. “Let me go grab her things.”

Joel’s hand slips across the small of your back as you pass, making for the stairs. He lingers at the bottom, watching until you turn into the nursery with Sarah in the crook of your arm.

You set her down in her crib and gather some of her favorites: a yellow blanket, a duck comforter, a rattle shaped like an elephant. She watches contentedly as you shuffle back and forth, staring when you lean over the wooden rail.

“You know how much I love you?” you whisper, curling a finger inside her fist. She squeezes, and you say, “More than the whole world.”

She grabs at the chain dangling from your neck, the letter S catching the light. Instead, she lifts your finger to her mouth. Her nails scratch light as a feather across your skin. Her gums are tiny and soft around your knuckle.

Everything about her is tiny and soft. Her sweeping eyelashes, her plushy cheeks. Her round tummy, and the squeals she lets free as you dot kisses and blow raspberries all over it. No matter how much she’s grown in three months, she’s still so tiny.

She’ll always be the smallest, sweetest thing you’ve ever known. And she’s all yours.

“Jesus, kid,” you sniff, swiping at your tears. You slip your hands around her back and prop her on your hip. “Alright, let’s go. Quit making your mom cry.”

The bag over your shoulder, you carry her out of the room and into the dark hallway. It’s quiet downstairs; nothing but the crackle of the record player, the distant chink of dishes in the kitchen.

That – and hushed voices in the living room.

“Joel,” Tommy says, over and over again. He’s trying to cut in between his brother’s rambling. Joel – listen to me. Just listen, for one second –”

You linger on the bottom step, trying to split Joel’s voice from Tommy’s. Trying to pluck the words out, over Maria’s humming from the next room.

“…and it ain’t that simple, Tommy it’s –”

“What ain’t simple about it? You have a –” Tommy says it through his teeth, “– you have a kid together, Joel. You really think she’s gonna –”

Sarah grabs the charm around your neck and shakes suddenly, rattling the chain.

You close your hand around hers, losing your balance. “Shhhhit, Duckie, you –”

Joel’s eyes snap to your figure as you step down. He clears his throat, leaning away from Tommy. “Hey – hey, darlin’.”

“Hey,” you reply. Bright. Chipper. Unclenching your fist to let your daughter shake your necklace some more.

She squeals with delight when she spots Joel across the room.

“She ready to go?” he asks, slinging a quick – telling – look at Tommy.

You look between the brothers, browns quirking. They look as guilty as each other: scratching their beards, staring at the furniture instead of you. “Uhuh,” you reply, tongue against your teeth. “Everything…everything okay?”

Tommy slaps his thighs as he stands. “Everything’s great, sweetheart. Sure as shit. Joel – you, uh…you got a key on ya?”

“Oh, yep.” Joel reaches into his pocket. He unhooks a silver key from the chain and drops it into his brother’s open palm.

Tommy calls for Maria. He sidesteps around you, face flushed and smiling.

She floats through from the kitchen, drying her palms on her jeans. “Where’s my baby duck?” she sings, reaching for Sarah.

You pass her over and she melts into her aunt’s arms, curling up into a little pink lump on her chest. “She just had a feed, like, twenty minutes ago, so – she should go down pretty well. And there are more bottles in Joel’s fridge, if you need ‘em.”

Maria nods, wrapping Sarah’s blanket around her. She lifts the bag strap from your shoulder and hands it to Tommy. “I’ll text you as soon as she’s down. Come on, Duckie, let’s get you to bed.”

Tommy leans over and squeezes your arm, winking as he follows his wife. He calls goodnight to Joel, lifting a pointed finger over his head, and closes the door behind them.

Things could not have gone smoother.

It’s suspicious as shit.

You turn when you hear Joel shifting.

“C’mon,” he utters, a pile of plates in one hand. “I ain’t leavin’ you with this mess.” He heads through to the kitchen, broad figure swaying.

The plates spill into the sink, water trickling over them. Joel hums to himself as he gets to work with a sponge in hand.

You linger in the living room.

Things have been good lately – peaceful. You’re in as much of a routine as Sarah will allow: a steady pattern of dropping her off and picking her back up, patchwork family dinners, daytrips whenever both of you can make them.

Your body is healing, pulling itself back together. You don’t have to think about being Mom anymore – she walks in stride with you. The world is painted a new shade of normal – one where you can do anything with a baby on your hip, one where love becomes your first language.

One where you swallow back the ache in your heart, for better or for worse. The only piece of you still fractured. The only wound left open.

Joel’s birthday cards lie flat on the coffee table. You pluck them up one by one – his parents’, Tommy and Maria’s, yours – and Sarah’s.

A messy splotch of a handprint, bright yellow paint smeared across half the fucking card (she hasn’t quite mastered self-control yet). A googly eye plastered to the bird’s chest; orange crayon for the beak and legs.

Sure, you took charge for most of the project – but when he opened it and saw his daughter’s little masterpiece, you caught him swiping his knuckle at the corner of his eye. He snuggled into her, perched on his lap, and whispered, Thank you, little Duckie.

You prop them along your mantelpiece, dotted around your mom’s photo. When you step back, looking from son to brother to…a good friend, you could almost pretend.

Almost pretend that they belong here, on this mantelpiece. There is no yours and his. Just one of everything; nothing doubled nor halved.

Almost pretend that he won’t collect them as he leaves, break into another teary laugh at the sight of the duck painting, and then kiss your cheek goodnight. Promise to have your daughter back in time to go swimming tomorrow morning.

Almost.

“Hey,” Joel calls, “did you, uh – did you hear Tommy talkin’ about Jackson?”

You slip into the kitchen, side by side with him at the sink. “Uh, yeah,” you reply, lifting a towel. “Moose, pine trees. Yep.”

“It sounds beautiful. You think we should take a trip up there sometime? Could be Sarah’s first vacation.”

“You mean the three of us?”

He shrugs, scrubbing a bowl in the water. “Sure. I don’t think Duckie would let one of us stay behind, do you? She’d scream the damn airport down,” he chuckles, looking back to the twinkling bubbles.

You hum. “Maybe.”

“You don’t feel like it?”

“No, I do. I just – I don’t know. Maybe someday.”

“Okay,” Joel says, nodding. “Put a pin in it.”

He passes you a dripping plate and you drag the towel over it, circling the pattern until the suds are wiped clean. And another, and another.

It feels awkward. It feels stiff. There’s something hanging between you, heavy on both your shoulders. A weight you haven’t felt around Joel in over a year.

You turn to him as he stacks the last plate on the draining board. “Is that what you were talking to Tommy about?”

Joel pauses. “You heard that, huh?”

“Only the part about having a kid. It’s none of my business, I know, I just –”

“Actually,” he clears his throat, “it’s plenty your business.”

He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. A deep breath, cheeks puffing as he exhales. His grip on the dish towel whitens his knuckles.

He’s…nervous. The same shade of gray he wore the night you went into labor.

He takes another unsteady breath.

“Joel?” you ask, head tilting. “Whatever it is, you can say it. I got whiskey, if that’ll make it easier. Probably tastes like shit, but…”

His expression cracks. His eyes twinkle, and he smiles. Only a little, but enough. Enough to let the words slip through.

“You know, that night at Tommy’s wedding was one of the best nights of my life.”

Your heartbeat thuds a bassline in your ears; the rush of your blood the squealing guitar. Skin tacky, moans caught between teeth. Laughter and lust tangling together in the air.

“Yeah?” you ask.

Joel nods. “Yeah. Lying there – talking, laughing, messin’ around. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard in all my life. I could’ve stayed in that room with you forever.”

Your eyes start to sting. You look away.

“I thought I would regret it. I thought I should regret it. And I never did. But then,” he takes a deep breath, “the next day, I look out front, and my newspaper’s sittin’ on my lawn. And for two weeks straight, I kept checking – and there it was. I thought, Sure as shit, she regrets the whole thing. I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

You shake your head. “I wanted to see you again. I missed – I missed you. Missed pissin’ you off.”

He laughs. “I missed you pissin’ me off. Missed that annoying as hell thud on my porch.”

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to – you know,” you admit, and Joel nods.

“We got pretty good at avoidin’ each other,” he grumbles. “And then – with Vanessa, I thought I’d be doin’ you a favor. Letting you off light.”

“You…you took her number to do me a favor?”

“Naw,” Joel says. “I took her number ‘cause her brother in-law has a lumber company, and I had a closet to build. I was drunk, I was an idiot, and I brought it up to her at the wedding. By the time I thought it through, you ‘n I weren’t speakin’.”

You stare at him, jaw slack. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shakes his head. He edges closer to you. Voice low, he says, “I shouldn’t’ve gone out on that first date with her. I shouldn’t’ve done any of it. I should’ve talked to you about what I was feeling.”

“Well, maybe we both should’ve,” you mutter, wringing your hands. “I wasn’t exactly the best at it, either.”

His head tips, considering. “Can I tell you now?”

You glance over to him. “Tell me what, Miller?”

“Tell you…tell you that I love you,” he whispers.

It steals the breath from your lungs. One clean swipe.

He nods to himself, then – certain of it – and says it again. “I do, darlin’. I love you.”

Your heart begins to hammer. Tears spill over onto your cheeks, dripping from your jaw.

“And, look –” Joel takes your wrists, “– I got no right to say any of that, I know. I put you through a hell of a lot, these last few months – and that kills me. But if you’ll let me, I swear to you – I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.”

You look up. His cheeks are dappled, too – glistening with tears. “Joel…” you weep.

He cups your jaw. “Listen to me. What we’ve had, the last three months – I want it all the time. I want you, and I want Duck. I want the three of us under one roof. I want to sleep in the same bed as you.”

You breathe a shuddered laugh. Your hands fall over his wrists. Keep talking, you mouth, bottom lip trembling.

“I want to get married, or not,” Joel says. “I want to show up to Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party late, ‘cause Duck couldn’t pick which shoes she wanted to wear. I want to have more kids, take ‘em on vacation.”

“Wyoming?” you sniff.

“Wyoming,” he repeats. “I want…I want all of it, baby. You ‘n me. I want you ‘n me, more than anything in the world. And if I’m too late, then you can tell me. Tell me, and I swear on my life I will never mention it again.”

Your hands curve over his. His strong knuckles, worked and weathered and worn by his years. Down to his wrists – the tatty strap on his ages-old watch, the dark hair peppered along his arms.

“I love you so much, baby. So much that it drives me insane. You drive me…fuckin’ insane.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you whisper, balling your fists against his chest.

Joel laughs, nose brushing against yours. “Yeah,” he sniffs, “I figured you’d say som’ like that.”

“I love you, too,” you mumble, linking your arms around his neck. “Shit, I love you.”

“Ain’t that a thing?” he says, and his lips are on yours.

It’s been a year. A year since the first time you felt him – lips soft as velvet, sweet with alcohol and something stronger. His tongue and yours, his teeth and yours. Every part of you clashing with every part of him.

And goddamn, you’ve missed it.

Joel follows you upstairs, pinning you to the wall by your bedroom door. White heat flooding through your veins, he kneels before you and pulls you onto his tongue.

He’s hungry.

He laps at you as though you’ll be gone in the morning. As though he won’t wake up tangled in you, breathing in your scent, lips on your skin.

Dusk seeps in at the edges of your vision; daylight draining from the sky. It’s dark, too dark to see him clearly, but you feel him fucking everywhere.

His beard grazes the inside of your thigh. He kisses where he scratches your skin. He holds your hips steady, tongue dipping in and out.

“You know how fuckin’ sweet you taste?” he growls, slipping inside again.

He looks so good between your legs. Like he was made for it – made for you. All yours, in ways you never really understood until now.

He brings you to the edge with his tongue flat against your clit. Holding your hips firm against his mouth, groaning with you as you fall.

You come with a broken moan. Hips stutter to a halt, legs fall wide open. The warmth in your belly spills over and rushes to every corner of your body.

Joel moans, tongue still lapping as your cunt pulses all over him. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he slurs, watching you come undone.

He stands, a chaste kiss to your lips, and then parts them with his tongue. “Taste good?” he mumbles, kissing you gently.

Yeah, you think, moaning against him, it tastes fucking good.

He spreads you out on your mattress and kisses what feels like every square inch of your body. You giggle at the feeling of his lips behind your ear; moan when they close around your nipple.

Your back arches; little lightning bolts as he pulls the buds to a peak. Your fingers knot through his hair; hissing at the meeting of pain and pleasure between Joel’s lips.

“I love you,” you whisper, when he settles between your legs. You don’t know that you’ve felt something so true in all your life.

He smiles. Your fingers trace the lines at his eyes.

“Come here,” he says, and pulls your hips to meet his.

You curve a hand around his neck, glancing down at your open legs. “Looks a little different to the last time you saw her.”

Joel shakes his head, licking his lips. “Beautiful, baby. She looks so goddamn beautiful.”

Each movement is careful, deliberate. He notches his tip at your hole and pauses until you’re looking at him again.

And then he pushes in.

He slips an arm under your head; the other holding your thigh on his waist. He kisses you as you stretch around him. He still tastes like salt and slick.

You gasp, teeth gritting around a hiss. “Fuck,” you whimper, turning in to his chest.

“Easy, easy,” Joel coos, voice rumbling against your temple. “Catch your breath. Doin’ so good.”

“It’s not sore,” you tell him, nodding for him to move again. “It’s…it’s just…different.”

“Tighter,” he groans, eyes on your cunt as it draws his cock in.

You agree, “Tighter.”

He catches you in another kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips. “Feel so good, sweet girl. Breathe. ‘m right here.”

It’s never felt like this before. This gentle, this tender.

You have never felt like this before. Broken open, stitched back together. Your heart split into two – whole again each time his body meets yours.

Joel catches your moans on his tongue. He steadies his pace; rocking into you over and over. Laughing against your lips; your fingers intertwined with his.

“Feel good?” he pants.

Your head rolls back. “Mhm.”

“Take it, baby. Such a tight little thing.”

“Joel,” you cry, “I’m close.”

His teeth nip at your neck. “Shit,” his hips jump, “attagirl. Just like that.” He thrusts into you harder, bleeding the color from your vision.

You pull his lips to yours, foreheads tacky. Joel’s eyes gloss over.

I love you, he breathes.

And the world whitens.

He pulls you against his chest when you come back around. Shifts up the headboard, skin all sticky and warm. He kisses your temples, kisses your shoulders, kisses your knuckles.

You melt into his grasp, turning to look up at him. You run your fingers over his lips, through his damp hair. Just staring. Drinking him all in.

“You were right next door, the entire time,” you whisper.

He runs a thumb across your cheek. “Yep.”

“Do you think we wasted too much time?”

Joel’s lip turns. “Nah,” he says. “We found our way.”

“Needed a little help, though.”

He scoffs, tongue between his teeth. “I’m sure she’ll hold it against us forever.”

You think of that evening in August. The last bow of the sun before your world changed forever. Of deals struck and promises made. Of satin on your fingertips – newspaper ink and duck egg silk.

You think of that photograph on your mantelpiece. Bright eyes watching every second of it. A smile on her face the entire time.

You laugh to yourself. Joel looks down and kisses your swollen cheek.

“We should go,” he taps your thigh, “got a little duck who’ll be wonderin’ where her mama and daddy are.”

The church tower rings out twice as the truck purrs between graves.

Joel pulls up under the shade of a sycamore, tires rolling to a halt. Sarah kicks her feet, her heels thudding against her car seat.

“Mama,” she presses a sticky finger to the back window, “flowers.”

“Yeah, baby,” you call over your shoulder, hugging your own graveside gift a little tighter in your arms. “Lots of ‘em, huh?”

“Yeah,” your daughter quietly considers, then kicks her seat again.

Joel waits patiently for you to give him the go ahead. He slips a hand around your knee, looking ahead at the rows of headstones. So patient, so gentle.

Your chest swells, a deep breath filling your lungs, and you nod. “Alright.”

“Sure?” he asks. “Take as long as you want, darlin’.”

But if you wait any longer, you’ll never leave. The paper wrap crinkles in your arms. “You take Duck,” you reply, “I’ll take…”

Joel lifts your hand, placing a soft kiss between your knuckles. “You got it. We’ll walk on.”

He leaves you in the truck to collect yourself. He unbuckles Sarah and sets her loose, following her across the grass with his hands in his pockets.

Her light-up sneakers flash as she sprints; head tossed back, toothless smile pointed to the sun. She turns back to her dad, her little hand fitting perfectly into his.

Made for each other.

You hook your fingers around the handle and leave the truck.

Their grave is a short walk down a grassy slope, sheltered by another towering tree. Its leaves flutter down around you as you near the stone; stray petals which catch in the breeze and lead the way.

You kneel down, the grass dry and prickly through your jeans. “Hi, Mom,” you whisper, sweeping some dust from the base of the grave. “Hi, Dad.”

Your grandma picked this spot. She’s long gone – laid to rest elsewhere with a grandfather you never met – so you try to visit as often as you can. Freshen the flowers, brighten up the stone.

It fucking sucks, but someone’s gotta do it.

You peel the brown paper from the bouquet, exposing the soft colors Sarah picked back in the florist. They fit perfectly on the stone, right beneath the words Devoted parents.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a feeling that wraps itself around your throat and steals any other words – until a flash of pink catches your attention.

“Duckie,” Joel calls, following her between graves. “Hey. This is a cem…Hey, Duck, listen – this is a cemetery, we gotta be – Sarah!”

You stifle a laugh, watching him jog after the hoodie tied around her waist. He swipes for her hand and she dodges him, ducking between graves faster than his mid-fifties joints can turn him.

There’s no one else here – it’s only you. And it’s a quiet enough place as it is, so – you let her laugh. Let him chase her, and let her sneakers light the place in pink. What else is there to do?

“Sorry it’s been a little while,” you tell your parents, eyes still on your man.

He’s kneeling now, Sarah on his thigh, in front of a tall, cross-shaped stone. They’re pointing at the words on the stone, her inquisitive eyes studying each one.

“I know I said I’d come visit for Dad’s birthday, but I guess things got busy – what with the move and all. We’re still living out of boxes. But the girls’ rooms are almost done – we just gotta paint ‘em.”

You look back down to the stone. Your mom’s name carved deep into spotted marble, your dad’s underneath. One awful date to tie them both together.

Dad probably heard Duck’s first squeal and turned away; gone back to whatever boring activity he might get up to in the afterlife. But your mom, you know for certain, is sat with her chin on the heel of her palm. Watching her mini-me trace the shapes of words, squirming when Joel presses his lips to her temple and whispers hints to her.

She’s probably smiling, making some comment about how big Sarah’s getting. How smart she is, how funny. How she must keep you and Joel on your toes – and goddamn, she’s right.

“Joel’s been working on the kitchen,” you continue. “I left my phone in the truck, but you should see it, Mom. He got these marble countertops, these little brushed-gold handles. He wrote our names on the wall before he tiled it, so whoever remodels after we’re gone will find that. The four of us.”

“M-meh-mem-orr-mem-or-ree?” Sarah tilts her head.

Joel nods. “Memory, yeah. Good job, Duck.”

“Duckie’s good,” you tell your mom. “She’s top of her class in – well, everything. Really wiping the floor with all the other first-graders. She’d have been your favorite – I know that much. And you’d have been hers.

“She’s gonna be some kind of lawyer, we think. Social justice and all that. She likes to be a woman of the people. Always talkin’ back to Joel – she hardly cuts him any slack, these days,” you laugh.

“He’s good, too – Joel. Working hard, as usual. Tommy and Maria visited last week – they brought Buckley, and now Duck won’t stop goin’ on about us getting a dog.”

You chance a glance over the stone, making sure the pair are out of earshot when you add, “Don’t tell her, but we called the pound last night. We’re heading there tomorrow while she’s at school to pick one out for her birthday. Joel’s giddier than I think Sarah’s gonna be.”

Joel’s carrying Duck now, wandering down a wobbly row of graves.

She halts him by pointing to one. “N-eh-v-eh-never…fff-or-g-for–”

He stares at her, a grin breaking across his lips. “Sound it out, that’s it. ‘s a big word, baby girl. You got it.”

The world seems to blur around them. The birds sing, a light melody from overhead. The green trees sway across the blue of the sky; the straight soar of cars on the highway. It all fades into the background, behind the two of them – wandering from shade into brilliant sun.

Your family. Your man, your blood – and everything in between. The little girl who brought it all together in the end – leading her dad by hand over knolls and broken stone, chasing butterflies, and asking what eh-teh-err-nal means.

“Means forever,” Joel says, kneeling beside her. “’s how long I’m gonna love you for.”

“And Nel?”

“And Nel.”

“And Mama?”

“And Mama.”

Sarah runs her hands through his beard, swaying side to side. “But me the most,” she concludes, nodding.

Joel hms, biting back a laugh. He lifts his chin, asks the little girl whether or not he’s going gray.

She has the same ridiculous laugh you do. The same snort you used to find so embarrassing, until you heard it come from her.

Just watching them stokes the already burning fire in your ribcage – the warmth flooding around your heart. He’s so good at it – being a dad.

Was he ever anything else, before he was a father? You can’t remember a time you didn’t wake up next to him, wrapped up in his arms, or with one of his kids burrowed between your bodies. It all feels so long ago, now.

He wanted to do everything. He’d lie with you between his legs, holding your half-sleeping form upright while you fed her. He’d race home after work specially to bathe her. He picked up any and every single duck-themed thing that he came across.

And what were you? Mom felt like such a fucking longshot. So out of your reach that you couldn’t understand the meaning of the word.

But there are days when she says it – Sarah, looking up at you with Joel’s twinkling eyes and a smirk which matches yours – and it’s like you’ve been waiting your whole life to hear it. Like you’ve been waiting your whole life for her.

Well. Her, and her little sister.

“And, uh – another thing,” you say, reaching for the plastic handle of a car seat. “I brought somebody for you to meet.”

A clumsy fist shoots up to shake a speckled dinosaur toy – the brown spheres of its eyes catching the sunlight. She squeals with delight when you unbuckle her, kicks her legs the same way her sister always did.

“She’s a little nervous, ain’t you, Nel?” you whisper, laughing at her gummy smile and tiny, socked feet. “She spit up on herself on the way here, but – I think you’re gonna love her.”

You perch the baby on your thigh, same as Joel did with Sarah, and she wraps her fingers around one of yours. You wiggle it – waving to your mom’s name, to the petals gently fluttering in the breeze.

“Mom,” you sniff, “this is Ellie.”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou #macfrog #neighbor!joel miller #babydaddy!joel miller #tw pregnancy

[trackinglessons]

cowboy abs! this is actually my fav piece ive done in like. forever.

#artists of tumblr #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanart #tlou au #tlou 2 #tlou game #tlou2 #abby tlou #tlou part 2 #abby anderson fanart #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou abby #abby fanart #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby x you #abby x reader #abby anderson #abby x fem!reader #cowboy!au #cowboy!abby #cowboy abby #lottie’s art

[palioom]

not home

summary: joel comes home and finds you asleep.

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; established relationship; somnophilia; dirty talk; fingering; unprotected p in v; creampie; finger sucking; lowkey praise kink; no proofreading/beta lmao

IMPORTANT as tlou is made by a Zionist, as well as part 2 being based on the oppression of Palestine by Israel, I urge you to educate yourself in the light of the genocide happening in Palestine, specifically Gaza, right now. I cannot in good conscience post for Joel without bringing awareness to the horrific things that have been going on for 7 months.

banners by @/saradika-graphics

follow @palioomfics & turn on notifs for future updates

It was late when Joel came back.

Not home, just back. Home had been lost long ago, so long that he barely remembered it sometimes.

Funny how one could live in a place for so long and then it just faded away. He could remember some of the layout, but he swore that something was off about the way the living room looked in his mind.

No, this was just a shoddy apartment in the Boston QZ, with shitty hallways,creaking floorboards, paint peeling off the walls. Air howling through the tiny cracks, it was always cold somehow, but in summer too hot.

The door squeaked when he opened it and he really wanted to slam it shut behind him. Stupid thing would probably fly off the hinges if he did.

Try getting a door in the QZ.

He had more luck making one himself.

So he didn’t, opting to close it quietly instead, locking it behind him.

What a shitty fucking night this has been. Trying to smuggle shit out of the zone and then almost getting mauled by a bunch of clickers, adrenaline was still pumping through him along with anger.

Seething because he had lost a good amount of pills, some other good shit he could have traded for marks or cigarettes with the FEDRA officers.

Joel wanted to scream, throwing his backpack down onto the kitchen chair, then walking over to the cabinets. But he didn’t, instead pouring himself some of the shitty bourbon that they kept stashed away.

Sometimes he still wondered how she had managed to get this, looking over at her, peacefully sleeping in their bed.

If that’s what one could call it, a mattress propped up on some bricks, worn out pillows and ratty sheets.

Turned away from him on her stomach, the thin fabric of the blanket loosely draped over her legs, her ass only covered by her underwear.

Sometimes he wondered how she could sleep in so little, while he was always ready to go, ready to leave if anything happened.

Not that he minded, the sight was enough to make his dick twitch in his jeans, just watching her sleeping form, breathing in and out.

He knocked back another gulp, hissing at the weak sting.

Yeah, it was pretty shitty compared to the real thing, or whatever he remembered from it, but she had found a good bottle nonetheless.

The really good ones were hard to come by these days.

Just like people.

Fuck, she looked pretty like this, sprawled out over the whole bed because he wasn’t there, and he couldn’t even see her face.

Soft in her sleep, so rare in a world where softness did not survive for long.

Trying to be tough when awake, fooling everyone but him.

Joel knew her too well, some things he had never wanted to know, things about her past.

Things that made sense and intrigued him in a way, sometimes meaningless shit, like what shows she used to watch, what she had for dinner most days.

But it distracted him, as much as it annoyed him sometimes, it gave him a break from this fucked up world where all was about survival and nothing about just living.

So pretty.

Her body gave him a break as well, settling down the glass and the bottle, footsteps heavy as he walked over to their bed, knowing she wouldn’t wake up.

Could sleep through a damn tornado if she wanted to.

He took his boots off, the only thing she made him take off when he came to bed, insisting she would make him sleep on the sofa otherwise.

Anything but that, his back hurting just at the thought of that shitty, worn out thing.

Crawling into bed, he pressed himself close to her, chest against her back, heavy on top of her smaller frame.

Joel’s lips found her exposed shoulder, only wearing a ratty tank top, too hot in this little apartment. It was the only thing that kept her from sleeping most days, that unbearable heat.

His calloused fingers travelled over her arm, half under her pillow, then back up and over her side. Sliding between her body and the mattress, grabbing her breast, his hips grinding into her ass.

She sighed in her sleep, brows furrowing together for a moment, mumbling something.

Fuck, he needed her. Knew she wouldn’t mind, this was far from the first time where he came home all tense and tried to let go a little while buried inside of her.

“Fucking pretty, darlin’.” He whispered against her shoulder, his hand continuing down, finding the meat of her ass and kneading it, making her shift just a little.

She looked so sweet like this, her sleepy sounds adorable.

“Gonna see if you’re wet for me, baby.” He said, fingers pushing her underwear to the side and delving between her folds, finding her wet but not wet enough.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, gonna get you nice and ready for me.”

He moved back from her just long enough to pull down her underwear, throwing it somewhere behind him. Then, he was flush against her, his fingers coming up to her lips.

Pushing into her mouth, past her teeth, she took him in, actually sucking on them for a moment, making him groan.

He moved them in and out of her mouth, pressing down onto her tongue, massaging it.

“‘Atta girl, get them nice and wet, what a good girl.” He whispered, kissing her shoulder as he watched, his dick twitching and rock hard in his jeans as he rutted against her ass. “Doin’ so well.”

Joel didn’t know if she could hear him, but sometimes he was sure that she got wetter from how he talked even when she was fast asleep.

When they were wet enough, he pulled them from her mouth, leaving her lips slightly parted before he moved down, finding her clit.

Her hips jerked up into his dick when he touched her, rubbing a few lazy circles into it, spreading the wetness there before her found her entrance, carefully easing the two fingers inside.

A breathy sigh left her, brows furrowed again as she clenched around him, already pressing in and out of her at a steady pace, feeling more wetness coat him.

“Just like that, squeeze them nice and tight, gotta get you ready for me, sweetheart.”

Curling them, he pressed against the spongy spot inside of her, hearing the softest moan spill over her lips, stirring just a little.

Pumping in and out, scissoring his thick fingers to stretch her open, he soon pulled out again, getting desperate and just needing her around him.

He sucked his fingers clean before rolling away from her, opening his belt as quietly as he could, then the button and zipper of his jeans. Pushing them down just far enough to take his aching cock out, grunting when he was back on her, the tip of him pressed against her entrance.

Hand finding her leg, he angled her just a little differently, making it easier for him to push into her, groaning softly against her shoulder.

Feeling her tight, wet pussy pull him in deeper, all the way until he bottomed out, broad hand over her hip.

She opened her eyes now, just a little, trying to make sense of what was happening, sleep gripping her tight.

“Joel?” Voice hoarse, cracking as he stilled.

“Shh, sweetheart, go back to sleep.” He said, leaning over to kiss her cheek, watching her close her eyes again. “I’ll take care of you.”

She mumbled something, gone again, only whimpering quietly when he pulled back and sank into her again.

His hand found her breast again, squeezing and groping as he began to pound into her, slow at first, but gradually picking up speed as he lost his patience. Her sweet sounds fuelling him, whining more as he kept pinching and rolling her hard nipple, her hips weakly pushing back into him.

“Pretty girl, always giving me your little pussy. Always so good to me.” He rambled, biting her neck softly. “So good for me, fuck, sweetheart.”

So close, her body so warm and soft, her pussy squelching around him.

Sometimes he wondered if the neighbours could hear it through the open window. Her soft mewls, her sweet, wet pussy as he pounded into it.

They could definitely hear when he fucked her deep into the mattress, hear her scream his name until her voice broke.

He hoped they did, letting everyone know she was his, asleep or not.

Joel could feel her squeeze around him, his hand moving from her breast to her clit, pressing into it with rough movements.

Pushing her over, a sharp gasp and the way her walls pulsed around him, coating his cock with her slick letting him know. Eyes opening again, whining and screwing them shut at the sudden assault of pleasure, mind hazy and too damn tired.

“Sleep, baby. It’s alright.” He shushed her again, groaning, forehead against her shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”

“Joel-”

That did him in, the way she whined his name, needy and sleepy, emptying himself inside of her with a deep groan.

“Shit, darlin’. Always so good.”

Joel watched her face, drifting in and out of consciousness, sleep tugging at her and pulling her under.

“‘Atta girl, baby.” He kissed her cheek, wrapping his arm around her waist.

Not pulling out of her, he manoeuvred them on their sides, her back flush against his chest, his nose buried in her hair.

Just catching his breath and feeling her.

She could make any night better, her soft body letting him forget momentarily about just how badly that trip had gone.

But he was just glad to be home.

Not home.

But the closest thing he had to it now, in bed with her.

Buried inside her.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #wanda maximo #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedrostories #my writing

[ellieslittlewh0re]

Please write some skin to skin with Ellie. I need a break from her strap!! Whew <3

yes!! I totally understand where your coming from 😩 I miss the good ol fashioned bumpin & grinding 🩷

𝖺/𝗇 𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗂 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗍 <𝟥

𝑺𝑲𝑰𝑵𝟐𝑺𝑲𝑰𝑵 𝒆.𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒔.

જ⁀➴ 𝐬𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 <𝟑

જ⁀➴ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 (𝖽𝗎𝗁), 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 & 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗆 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺

It was still early in the morning, the sun just barely breaking on the horizon, and dew drops stuck to your shared bedroom window from the summer humidity.

Ellie stirred awake, rubbing her eyes as she adjusted to creeping daylight, and then she saw you. Your bare shoulder, and how the light highlighted your silhouette, all the way down your bare sides.

She felt bad of course, after a night where she let her jealousy and insecurities overwhelm her, she ended up saying some things she regretted- things she didn’t mean.

Her hand caressed your shoulder, and down your arm, you were still asleep, but she didn’t intend to let it last long.

She loved you, cared so deeply for you, and you just made perfect sense to her.

Maybe it was her insecurities talking again, but she had to make it up to you, now.

She scoots closer to you on the bed, her bare chest on your back, and her arm wraps around your front, her lips now on your shoulder.

This is when you start to finally wake up, her restless kisses making it impossible to ignore.

You hummed as your eyes blink open, and you quickly remember last nights events.

Sure, you were still upset. It wasn’t unforgivable, but you wanted to make her work for it.

“Baby?” She said, quiet and a little rough, and you ignored her, tucking your face away further into the pillow so she couldn’t see your face.

Another kiss is felt on your shoulder, and then another one a little higher up, and they kept coming until her lips were in the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered into you, her warm breath making the skin on your arms tingle.

You extended your neck, giving room for her to continue her surge, and a smile kept onto Ellie’s lips, knowing that not only you were awake, but you were inviting her.

Her soft pecks turned wet, her tongue sliding across your skin until it turned into gentle suctioning, and her hips perfectly snug.

You hum again as Ellie’s hand finds your breast, gently rolling the fat between her fingers, taking extra caution around the sensitive nerves.

Her breathing starts to pick up in your ear as her hips are rolling into you, grinding her cunt into your ass, and her hand also became more frenzied, finding its way into your panties, and sliding a index finger between your sticky folds.

You moaned in response, eyes still shut, and wrapping a hand around to pull on the back of her thigh in need of more.

Luckily for Ellie, you didn’t make her work nearly as hard as you should have because her boxers were growing increasingly tight and uncomfortable, sticking and clinging to her cunt as she continued to hump you from behind.

Boby parts begin to stick, her forehead resting on the back of your shoulder, and her thighs against yours. She was relentless with her wrist, but the angle wasn’t favorable.

You’re rolled onto your back, and she’s climbing on top of you, finally abling a kiss, all the while using one of her hands to slide her boxers down the length of her legs, not bothering to take them the rest of the way off as they dangled from one of her ankles.

Your eyes opened the rest of the way, seeing her as she lowers her lips to your chest, planting open mouthed kisses, and you whine as the kisses turned brutish- sucking, and her teeth grazing your nipple as she pulls away.

She gets lower, her bottom lip ghosting the pudge of your lower stomach, “Can I?” She asks, so sweetly, and so unsure, wanting nothing more to get closer to you in any way possible, but never fully satisfied.

You nodded, and it took her no less than a second to hook her pretty fingers around the hem of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them elsewhere with little importance to neither of you.

It started sweet with the trail of kisses up your inner thighs, her warm hands hooking around you, and all her adoring vows spewed between the flicks of her tongue.

See, Ellie loved you- loved fucking you, but it was one of this mornings where her growing itch was starting to physically ache.

She lifts herself, and in your dazed-out haze, you give her a look of confusion, but she’s pulling and pushing at your legs, spreading them until the inner muscles started to sting.

“Ellie, what are you-?” You started to ask, but she pretty much answered your question as she swung a leg over one of yours, her hands on your knees, and lowered herself onto you.

A sharp breath is exhale from your lungs, and a sigh from hers.

“M’sorry, babe… couldn’t wait anymore.”

Her freckled forearm was now covered in raised, pinkish scratches, both from you pulling her closer, and pushing away in overstimulation.

“Ellie… I’m gonna-“ You try to speak, but your voice fails you, coming out in a series of small little wines.

She comes down, her trembling arms barely able to hold herself up, but still continues the wave-like motions of her hips- in and out, gently rolling like a tide against the sea shelled bottom.

She kissed your cheek, a tinge of saltwater on her tongue as her lips lazily rested against your temple,

“I know, baby, me too. Together, yeah?”

She straightens herself, one of her hands pushing on the inside of your knee, ensuring full contact. And it seems so obvious in times like this that you’d always forgive her so easily- kaleidoscopic eyes peeking through dark lashes, her hip bones protruding behind alabaster skin, and the hypnotizing manner of her muscles under strain.

Ellie’s jaw clenched, digging a little harder, and rutting a little faster as her climax approaches, both greedy for her own release, but also sympathetic towards yours.

Almost ritualistic in nature, she repeated your name, and you with hers, your bodies practically conjoined as she collapses on top of you.

Once the air returned back to her lungs, she rolls off, and is opening her arms for you to take position.

And, of course, you do, nuzzling in beside her, and her hand is in your hair, stroking gently at the stands.

This is how your morning came and went, wrapped around your girlfriend, and limbs intertwined, softly snoring away the daylight, and Ellie’s heartbeat being your melodic departure.

i’m so bad at endings I’m sorry but none the less, I hope you enjoyed 🩷

#ellie williams fanfiction #Ellie Williams #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie the last of us 2 #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fluff #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us part 2 #ellie the last of us #the last of us 2 fanfic #the last of us #the last of us 2 #ellie tlou x reader #tlou smut #tlou x reader #tlou ellie #tlou fanfiction #ellie tlou2 #tlou fic #ellie tlou smut #ellie tlou #tlou #tlou2

[clairellie]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 UNEXPECTED . .

summary : abby doesn't exactly know what love feels like, she doesn't really care- but now she does, since she found you.

includes : abby x f!reader, sfw, wlw, abby being fucking obsessed, “lonely” abby, reader is brave, owen doesn’t really exist.

abby dosent know how she got here, how did she end up with the love of her life when she acts "invisible?"

she doesn't like to be really noticeable (although she has such muscules.), she likes to keep her friend group small, not wanting too much going on.

she likes to spend her days mainly alone. once a month she goes to the museum, by herself. that routine changed for her.

why did she choose that friday? couldn't it have been the week before- or after? nope, just had to be the day she met you.

she noticed she might have feelings. she kept looking away from paintings to look at your figure. she preferred looking at your eyes rather than the mona lisa.

she never wanted to be in love, she didn't need someone to rely on- nor someone to rely on her. but now she was, she was now craving you.

time kept going on, and on, and on. you gave her your number, she asked you out on a date, you got to know her better. turns out she was ur type.

every day she was now waking up in a whole different bedroom. she wasn't waking up alone. she now had somebody to cuddle with, someone she could express her love to.

she spent money every time her flower that she kept died. she keeps a single flower from a bouquet she gets you, just to make sure she will replace them at the right time.

abby is so obsessed with you. she keeps a polaroid picture of you in her phonecase, one in her car. everyday when she gets back from the gym shes immediately by your side.

abby is in love with you, even though its her first time in a while.

#abby the last of us #abby anderson the last of us 2 #lesbian #wlw #abby anderson x female reader #the last of us #joel tlou #abby x reader #abby x you #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby y/n #tlou 2

[les4elliewilliams]

OK OK HMO

How about ellie giving reader anal as a punishment kinda thing for coming home so late after a party?? PLS I LOVE MEAN ELLIE

omgomg. I swear I'm so obsessed with mean Ellie. Sure, she's lovely and she can be such a sweet, caring, thoughtful girlfriend. Put your health and well-being above everything else, but at the same time, she can be a big meanie. And all I can think of is that one coworker!ellie fic I wrote not too long ago. She's such a meanie, I would love to fight her ass for hours to be honest, even for no reason at all; just seeing her getting all riled up and fuming red is such a turn on?????? like be mean to me i'll cum. ANYWAYS!!

cw ; wc: 4k words approximately. anal sex, smut (no shit! ik.). she accuses you of cheating, and she won't let you cum ;( dom!ellie if it wasn't obvious. kind of rushed towards the end and not proofread, sorry :((

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

Afterparty punishment.

As you stepped out of the Uber, you were blinded by the bright glow of your phone's screen. You stared at all the lost calls and texts from your girlfriend, chewing on your bottom lip. Though you had heard your phone ringing, you wanted to stay longer with your friends and unwind after a long and stressful week at work. But your girlfriend had made it clear that she expected you to be home by midnight, and it was already 3 in the morning. You couldn't help but wish that she was sound asleep by the time you entered your small shared apartment — but you knew it was unlikely. You had a strong feeling that she was up, waiting for you, probably ready to lash out at you for being so late and not answering any of her calls or texts. You could already feel the tension rising as you approached your apartment complex.

You carefully turned the key in the lock, twisting it slowly and quietly, hoping not to disturb her in case she had dozed off while waiting for you to return home. As you pushed the door open, you could hear the low hum of the television set emanating from the living room. You tiptoed forward, trying not to make any noise, but just as you stepped into the room, she turned her head to look at you. Despite the calm expression on her soft features, you knew that she was anything but relaxed. Her eyes bore into you with a piercing intensity, and you could feel the full force of her anger emanating from her. She didn't say anything, but her eyes were fixed on your every move, waiting for you to speak first. You could tell that she was furious, and you braced yourself for the storm that was sure to come, letting out a long sigh.

You were the one who broke the silence first "Hi babe." your voice sounded gentle and subdued, your facial expression tinged with a hint of guilt. You slid your coat off your shoulders and hung it by the hooks on the wall. The air inside felt different than when you left to go to your best friend's party, and you could sense something was off. Her voice was soft yet firm and harsh as she replied, "Hey." She didn't even sound as sweet as she did when she said goodbye to you before you left. You kicked your heels off and left them by the door, not bothering to put them away even though you often yelled at Ellie for leaving her worn-out sneakers by the door.

"Where the hell have you been?" she exclaimed, her voice rising in anger as she stood up from the couch and marched over to you. Her previously calm demeanor had vanished, replaced by frustration and annoyance. Her face was freckled and scrunched up in anger, as she struggled to contain her emotions. "I'm so sorry, I was stuck in a traffic j-" you began, your voice apologetic. But it was clear that she was infuriated with you. She had called you multiple times, texted you, spammed your phone, but you never answered any of her calls. As time passed, she became increasingly worried that something might have happened to you and couldn't believe you could be so careless. She scoffed at your attempt to make up an apology, knowing that it was a lie, she wasn't buying it. She looked at you skeptically, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. "A traffic jam?" she repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You expect me to believe you were stuck in the traffic for over three hours?" She shook her head and let out a loud sigh of disapproval. It was clear that she thought you could have come up with a better excuse.

Just when you were about to respond to her rhetorical question, the woman abruptly raised her hand to signal you to keep quiet. "Don't even try to give me that bullshit," she scolded, her voice rising in anger. "You could have at least answered my calls or texted me back. But no, you just leave me sitting here, not knowing where you are or if you're okay." Her frustration was palpable, and she wasn't done yet. "I trusted you to be home by midnight. Do you have any idea how late it is?" she continued, her voice even louder and more incensed. Her arms were tightly crossed, causing her biceps to bulge, and you couldn't help but let your eyes linger on them for a few seconds longer than necessary. So fucking toned, she was too fucking fine even when fuming red and when she looked like she was about to strangle you.

You stood there before her, silent and unmoving as she let loose her verbal barrage. You couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt as she continued to scold you. She's all fired up, and you could feel the heat emanating from her body. "It's three in the damn morning," she growled, her words like daggers in your ears. She didn't leave any room for an argument, as if you had any reason to protest. The anger that fuelled her words didn't dim her beauty, though. Despite the situation, you couldn't help but feel a surge of desire wash over you as you watched her. With her black tank top hugging her curves and torso perfectly, her bulging bicep muscles inviting you to come closer, run your fingertips over her smooth and freckled skin, just like you usually did in the bedroom. The fire in her eyes, her commanding presence, and the way her body moved with each angry gesture all combined to create a powerful aura that was almost...hypnotic. You found yourself inching towards her, your tongue running along your bottom lip, not that she seemed to notice, too busy lashing out at you "Just because I leave you the freedom to go out with your friends doesn't mean you can leave for that long and be completely unreachable," she spat, her lips curling up in disdain. The rage in her voice was like a torrential downpour, drenching you in her fury.

You let out a laugh and watched her face shift from surprise to confusion and eventually to anger. She towered over you, her towering frame casting a shadow over you. "Oh you think this is funny? You think this is fucking funny?" she spat out, her musky scent invading your nostrils as she stepped closer. She took a deep sniff, "What, are you drunk too?" she asked with disdain, this time actually waiting for you to talk "Just tipsy, El."

A scowl etched across her face, the lines around her mouth and between her brows more pronounced. "Who were you with? Cause I'm sure someone kept you there, am I right?" she accused you, her voice low and husky, as if she was battling with her thoughts and emotions. Her words carried a hint of insecurity, a slight crack in her usual confident facade. Her jealousy was a sign of her affection, a sign that she cared deeply for you and feared losing you. She has always been overthinking it since she met you. You were so perfect, too perfect. Out of her league. She knew she was wrong for accusing you, yet her anger and insecurities overtook her logic. It was like a fever that burned deep within her, urging her to let her emotions take control. But she also knew she could trust you, you had proven her multiple times. You were the only thing in her life that gave her a sense of stability, and she was terrified of losing that. Even as she raged and accused, there was a part of her that wished she could take it all back, but the damage was done. She had let her emotions get the best of her, and she didn't know how to fix it, yet she couldn't bite her tongue. "Ellie, are you seriously accusing me of cheating on you?" You felt a sense of disbelief and hurt at her accusatory tone, your eyes narrowing as you tried to understand why she would say such a thing.

"I don't fucking know. Did you?" Words kept slipping from her lips, dripping with venom and malice. You could almost feel the weight of her anger pressing down on you, suffocating you with her wrath. She crossed her arms over her chest like a fortress, her eyes narrowing as she watched you with a mix of uncertainty and suspicion. Her body language was rigid as if she were trying to hold back an explosion of emotion beneath the surface. Her jealousy was undeniable, like a fire burning in the pit of her stomach, consuming her from inside.

"Are you dumb?" you exclaimed. You had never given her any reason to doubt you, so her words hit you like a blow to the gut. Despite her insecurities, she had never accused you of anything like this before, and it left you feeling hurt and confused. Your chest felt tight as if the accusation had left a physical imprint on your body, making it hard to breathe. You looked at her with a mixture of anger and disbelief, not quite sure of how to respond. "Are you a whore?" Your heart skipped a beat as you tried to process what she had just said, and a flush of anger and arousal spread across your chest like wildfire. Your cheeks flamed with a blush, but you tried to suppress it, not wanting her to know how deeply her words had affected you.

"Excuse you?!" You snapped. She kept gazing at you like a laser beam, drilling into your soul. You were unable to move or speak as she stood over you, her toned arms crossed as if daring you to speak out of turn. You were simply speechless, your words dying in your throat, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a ton of bricks. "Did I stutter?" She repeated, her words dripping with sarcasm, and you could see the fury in her green irises. You were left speechless, your mouth open but no sound escaping your lips. "Take your clothes off," she demanded you, her voice low and firm; you were frozen in shock as her words hit your ears. You felt your heart start to race at her words, your mind struggling to comprehend what she was asking you. "Wha-" but she cut you off, predicting your question "Your actions have consequences," her tone stern and unforgiving.

There you were, bent over on the couch, your ass prominently displayed for her hungry and unforgiving eyes and your weight balanced precariously upon the palms of your hands sinking into its cushions, you found yourself in a vulnerable position while her eyes devoured every inch of your exposed skin. She loved the sight of your fucking ass on display for her...man, she was loving every second of it. Love bites covered your collarbone, boobs, and neck. She was rougher than usual – not that you minded, of course. She stood behind you, adorned only in a pair of sleek, black boxer shorts and a strap that hung close to your dripping entrance. The anticipation mounted as she teased and taunted, never actually fucking you like you were begging her to, instead, choosing to punish and drive you insane. She knew the effect she had on you; this was some sort of game to her, a punishment, and she was playing expertly. You were making a mess on the couch, so wet, she swore she had never seen you this needy and desperate for her. Upon your left ass cheek, the imprints of her five fingers stung gently as she kept slapping over the same spot whenever you'd talk back to her with an attitude or when you'd try to ride her black strap, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't enjoying this one bit.

She held your beloved vibrator dangerously close to your achingly responsive nub at the gentlest setting, but that was enough to send ripples of ecstasy coursing through your throbbing core, making your hips buck into her to seek for more, but again, she wouldn't give it to you. You groaned softly as she hovered over you, "Please, baby, fuck me, please..." You pleaded and pleaded, but she didn't budge. "What is it that you want, hm? My dick?" you whimpered when she set the purple wand pressed onto your clit to a different speed, making your hips wiggle and move around slightly; she knew you were close. "Don't you dare fucking cum without asking first" her voice ringing in your ears like a drumbeat. It was a harsh, demanding tone, but there was something almost musical about it, an undertone of raspy sensuality that turned your stomach in knots. "PleasePlease'mclose" You begged her for mercy, your voice pleading and desperate. You were completely at her mercy, utterly dependent on her for your release. "Baby..." She murmured softly, her voice like velvet laced with silk. This gentleness nonetheless held a mocking undertone that suggested further torture awaited you, leaving a few damp kisses on your back as she supported her half-upper body on your sticky and sweaty back. "If you had been home by midnight, none of this would happen." The gentle reminder hung in the air, another cruel twist of the knife, as she denied you the sweet release you so desperately sought, determined to prolong your punishment for the time being. It was the second time she was doing this, driving you fucking insane. Your walls clenched around emptiness, your whimpers growing increasingly pitiful and urgent. "Ellie... please, I'm going to cum," you pleaded softly. Unable to resist, you thrust your hips backward, seeking more of her; you needed her to fuck you badly, but she wouldn't even fucking touch you. You've been begging and begging for an hour now, still fucking nothing. When she heard you gasp, her emerald eyes traced downward, taking note of the tip of her strap, embedded in your drenched pussy. what a fucking slut, she thought to herself.

With a disapproving click of her tongue, she withdrew, leaving you to emit a frustrated whine and an empty feeling behind; your wispy brows furrowed in despair, a picture of helpless longing. "Pleasepleaseplease... need you so badly," you pleaded, your voice wavering and weak. "I want to come on your cock" You failed to persuade her, it gradually dawned on you that she was immune to your usual tactics. A mournful groan echoed through the room as she turned the toy off, your neglected clit throbbing almost painfully. "Ellie, plea-" you began, only to be silenced by her stern interruption "How many hours were you late?" but you sighed, trying to apologize again "Baby, I'm so-" Her hand landed forcefully on your asscheek, followed by a gentle caress to soothe the lingering burn. This contradiction between tenderness and roughness sent shivers through you. An involuntary yelp escaped you, your hips involuntarily flinching away, only to be swiftly guided back into position. "Answer. The. Question, slut." she steely commanded  "Three... three hours," you stammered, your voice thick with lingering desire, your breathing laborated.

Her voice, a mix of raspiness and sweetness, offered an ultimatum, "Last one before I actually let you cum, hmm?"

Three hours late, three orgasms taken away from you.

Finally thrusting into your aching hole and fucking it relentlessly just to pull out of you when you were about to cum. What a fucking dick.

Your body was trembling, your heart racing as you were completely out of breath. Every inch of you felt hypersensitive like you were on the verge of breaking apart. The sensations were overwhelming, almost too much to bear and she wasn't done with you yet.

"Please, may I now?" you implored, your gasps ragged. Mockingly, she replied, "Don't think you can handle it." Ellie teased, her voice dripping with playfulness, you could sense the mischievous grin appearing upon her freckled face in her voice, even if you couldn't see her. "You've got to be fucki-" Your protest was silenced mid-sentence, curtailed by her stern retort "Language. You want to cum or not?" Despite her harshness, amusement lurked beneath. Reaching for the forgotten lube on the coffee table, her weight shifted on her knees, her restlessness palpable; both of your and her knees were starting to hurt, but neither of you seemed to care enough. You exhaled, attempting to quell your nerves. "Why didn't you answer my calls?" she grumbled, twirling the cap between her nimble fingers. "I was worried, waiting here for you the whole time..." she confessed. "I lost track of time," you conceded, partly honest. You just wanted to drink with your friends, have fun, and stay out late. Was that so wrong?

You glanced over your shoulder, your head tilting ever so slightly, capturing her fluid motions as she opened the lube bottle, filling her palm with its slippery contents. When she noticed your fascinated gaze, she smacked your asscheek once more, this time setting your sensitive skin aflame. A whimper escaped you, "Eyes on the clock, princess," she crooned menacingly. "Needa learn how to not lose track of time, yeah?" she had this mocking tone going on, you winced "Stings..." your voice tinged with vulnerability as frustration smoldered in her eyes, eliciting a venomous "Maybe next time you''ll actually answer your fucking phone when I'm calling you" Your eyes darted to the clock hung on the wall before you, searching for some way to gauge the time that had passed. Each second felt like an eternity as your lungs burned with each breath, desperate for the relief withheld from you. The tick-tock of the clock only made the anticipation more intense, each sound like a taunt aimed at you. You couldn't help but wonder what she was planning next.

"I said I'm sorry" but your apology met deaf ears once again. "Sorry isn't enough for me, pretty" her skilled calloused fingers coated your asshole with slick; you couldn't still your restless hips, and the auburnette, anticipating your withdrawal, clasped your waist firmly. "Stop moving, damn it! Just hold still for a moment." Frustration simmered beneath her plea, your restlessness seriously testing her patience.

"Ellie!" you whined, struggling in vain, her strong grasp upon your hip muscle holding you in place. "I thought we agreed on no anal," you argued, but she swiftly shot back, "I thought we agreed you'd be home by midnight." You let out a deep sigh, rolling your eyes in defiance. Your chest rose and fell with each breath, your heart pounding in your ears, and yet, you were too fascinated by the power dynamic created between the two of you. 

"Fucking cunt," The words slipped from your lips unintentionally. You heard the slap before you felt it, a sharp and burning sting on your exposed skin. Your flesh felt on fire almost instantly, a reminder of the power that she held over you; the pain was an added layer to the excitement, and you were grateful for the rush of adrenaline it provided. "Still talking back, huh? Have you learned nothing?" Her voice was low but firm, a tone that shook your very core, sending chills down your spine. The power it held over you was like a drug, an exhilarating rush that left you absolutely desperate. You loved being put in your place, even if you'd never admit it out loud.

"Oh, but you can call me a whore?" She didn't even acknowledge your words, dismissing them with an airy huff. "Cause s'what you are." she muttered under her breath, her thumb tracing a wet path through your glistening folds, collecting the sweet nectar. An involuntary whimper escaped your lips, a hum of acknowledgment mingling with her words. "Look at this fuckin' pussy, god. You love when I'm mean to you, don't you?" she mused aloud. You were so fucking wet that it almost shocked her; she definitely was going to do this more often. Who knew you'd get so turned on while arguing? "Bet, this is why you always startin' shit" she accused you, chuckling dryly.

"Shut up," you pouted, she readjusted your posture with meticulous precision, her tattooed forearm brushing against her sweat-dampened brow, the silicone cock secure in her grip. She pressed the head against your resistant entrance. Before doing anything, sweet words of reassurance fell from her lips, a gentleness in her voice that you hadn't expected, but she still cared about your well-being and comfort; she loved you to death, after all. "Relax, babe... Last thing I wanna do is cause you pain." You felt your muscles relax as you listened to her; she let out a sigh before guiding it in slowly. "Fuck fuck!" Your cry of distress melted into a plea for relief, her thumbs pressing into your dimples of Venus for stability.

"Get the vibrator, baby," she commanded, pausing her invasion momentarily, allowing you to seek solace in the pulsing violet wand, the intense vibrations reducing the pain. "Ellie!" you cried out, amplifying the toy's relentless hum while she resumed her actions. "Ugh... You're so fucking tight," she grunted, her thumbs tracing gentle patterns along your spine, a balm to soothe your sensitive nerves. 

"Ahh!" you gasped as she filled you fully, her digits digging into your supple curves, latching onto tender flesh. She drove her fake cock deeper into your tight stretched passage, letting your hole adjust to her size, stretching it out so good. Your hips sought hers in response, hungrily pursuing every retreat she made, and she laughed softly as soft moans were spilled from your lips. "Ohhh look at you. You fucking brat," immaculate moans spilled forth, painting a picture of pure pleasure and pain on your features. Your eyes rolled involuntarily in the back of your skull, the wand's vibrations maintained a steady assault on your nub, and the surroundings became faint murmurs.

She paused briefly, taking note of your trembling legs before lifting you effortlessly towards her, her chest pressed against your dampened back, you could feel her hard nipples pressed against your drenched skin. Her left hand groped your budding tit, as the other replaced your quivering hand with her own, the violet toy vibrating on your aching nub with renewed vigor. Your panting cries reverberated throughout the apartment and in her ears, mixed with frustrated squirms. It was fucking music to her ears. "Baby, fuck..." You were struggling, completely blissed out of your mind. Your eyes were stuck in the back of your head, your mind lost in pleasure. The sensations were becoming too much, unbearable. The toy's vibration was set higher, causing you to squeal and squirm in her hands. It was like being caught in a whirlwind, a tornado of sensations that were pushing you on the edge. Her hand teased and twisted the nipple between her fingers, her touch almost feathery in its softness. She was in control, and you were just her plaything. She hummed back, covering the purple marks on the side of your neck with persistent kisses as her strap continued to slide in and out of you. "Close, angel?" She hummed against the soft skin of your neck, and the vibrations tickled as she moved closer pressing a few more kisses on your skin. You could feel her breath on your skin, warm and inviting. She savored every little sound you let out for her; the sounds she forced out of you were all hers. She was making you feel this good, no one else.

Your hand intertwined with the one that rested on your breast, and your other hand reached for her, your fingertips tangled in her auburn hair, as she continued to attack your neck with kisses and your tight hole with her harsh thrusts. "Close...hmmm...p-please" Your whimpers filled the air like a sweet melody, one that seemed to echo in your girlfriend's ears for a prolonged time. "Not gonna pull out this time, princess. I promise," she reassured you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, yet they held an undeniable power over you. You felt as though you were melting into her arms, "Gonna be a good girl and listen to me for once?" which had you nodding vigorously, the hand between your thighs covered by a whole waterfall, you were so wet, she could hardly believe her eyes. "Alright, bunny. Cum for me, yeah?" she didn't even need to tell you twice, you've been holding it for so long that it felt good to finally let go. A tidal wave crashed upon you, the walls of your posterior clinging desperately to her strap.

You collapsed on all fours once again, your hands sinking into the cushions of the worn-out couch. The sound of your cries filled the air, and you were completely breathless. Your chest felt like it was on fire, the heat spreading throughout your body with a ferocity that you had never felt before. The sound of her breathing mixed with your ragged breaths. She slowly pulled out of your ass and discarded the purple toy somewhere on the floor.

"I was right by the way" Ellie suddenly said, leaving you puzzled. Her tone was triumphant, and you couldn't quite figure out what she was talking about. "'Bout what?" As you struggled to catch your breath, you managed to utter a few words, each one punctuated by a deep inhale and a ragged exhale. "You're a whore" you turned around, she greeted you with a playful tone. You couldn't help but notice her rosy cheeks and the glistening of her sweaty skin, with droplets of sweat rolling down her temples. Her lips curved into a cocky smirk, making you scoff in response. "And you're a cunt." you quickly responded back in the same playful tone.

"Need me to teach you another lesson?" She teased, beckoning you to nestle on top of her, your body adhering to her freckled, sticky skin. Trying to suppress your grin, you muttered "Shut up" in a lighthearted tone; she bursted out laughing at your reaction, finding it amusing.

"You better always be on time from now on," she said in a fake stern tone, her eyes fixed on you. "I learned my lesson," you replied, trying to sound apologetic. But deep down, you knew that you were going to repeat the same mistake, just to receive this kind of attention and treatment from her again. Unable to resist the thrill and the rush of adrenaline that came with being punished scolded from her.

¡! daily click・palestine masterpost・do not buy any game from naughty dog, neil druckmann is a zionist・more daily clicks. ¡!

#𐙚 em` s asks ⋆.˚ #em writes✎ ⋆⑅˚₊ #ellie williams smut #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #lesbianism #the last of us 2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie smut #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams tlou #the last of us #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x y/n #tlou2 #tlou ellie #wlw #sapphic #wlw post #lesbian #lgbtq #smut #the last of us smut #tlou fic

[bloodpawprint]

please write a pervyneighbour!ellie fic I’m begging u PLEASEEEE need her so bad

ellie williams x fem!reader .. sfw ? ౨ৎ

this is more like... pervycrazyobsessiveneighbour!ellie

did you really... leave your window open...?

either ellie had suddenly lucked out, or you couldnt sleep due to the hot weather... maybe both. didnt matter, she continued to pry open your window further.

she knew it was wrong— illegal. but how could she resist you? her sweet, kind new neighbour who always left your blinds open and only smiled when you caught her gawking from her own house.

her feet land on your bedroom floor with a thump, she feared it would wake you, but you dont move an inch. you should be thankful its not some random creep sneaking into your window in the middle of the night, just ellie.

she just wanted to make sure you were safe.

your room was still stuffy with heat despite the cool breeze of the night. but it still brushes over your body, causing your nipples to harden under the thin cloth of your tank top

you've caught her staring before, but you were certain it was harmless. maybe she couldnt hold eye contact... she's harmless.

ellie stalks closer to your bed. youre so peaceful and unaware that it worries her... anyone could break in and harm you, it breaks her heart to think about

she's supposed to protect you, thats why you moved next door right? for her to protect and take care of.

she stands tall at the side of your bed, watching you stir in your sleep and unconsciously kick the covers partially off your body.

she can see the shine of sweat over your body, her poor girl.

she wished to help you; maybe she would gift you a fan tomorrow. maybe you wouldnt even notice the camera implanted on it.

she crouches beside you as you turn on your side, snuggling your face into the pillow. she craves the feeling of your skin against her hands, squeezing everywhere she wants to and planting kisses and love bites all over.

she knows you want that too, she can feel it. why else would you move next door? youre just playing hard to get.

she lifts her hand carefully, letting the tips of her fingers just graze over the side of your face and down your neck. her breathing picks up, the slightest touch making her chest feel light and fluttery. "my girl..."

her fingers start to play with the hem of your shirt, using it as an excuse to touch your cleavage. you were perfect. she didnt deserve you, didnt deserve your love and devotion.

but oh how she needed it.

you were her life now, she lives and breathes you— and you remain clueless.

she leans forward, softly kissing the tip of your nose. "i love you."

#.. bloodpawprint 🐾 #👾 — rqs #pervyneighbour!ellie #dont actually do this #ellie williams #ellie williams x y/n #ellie tlou smut #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams headcanons #ellie the last of us smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie the last of us #abby anderson smut #ellie smut #the last of us #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams x you

[bunniehrtz]

mommy abby taking out her work stress on reader (ofc being the aftercare queen too) plsss

cw: kinda mean!abby, breeding kink, mirror sex, little cutesy aftercare

the front door of your shared apartment slams and it makes you jump. the air in your room goes cold, and you hear heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. a sound you know all too well.

abby has been having a tough time during her recent patrols - too many infected, shit partners, too many infected and shit partners. she comes home wound up and there’s only one solution. fucking you senseless. it has become almost routine but this time felt different. the house felt dark, cold, angry. abby bursts through the door, grabbing you by your forearms, pinning you down onto your bed. you try to pull away to talk to her. you should’ve known better. “abby- abs. what’s- fuck. what’s wrong?” you attempt to say in between kisses. “don’t- i don’t want to talk. just want you,” she says breathily, grinding her hips down into yours, her hands lifting up your shirt, throwing it behind her. as you let out a pornographic moan, abby slips her tongue into your mouth, exploring it feverishly. your chest flush against abby’s own, moaning into her mouth. “need- fuck. need to fuck you. need to have my way with you. will you let me?” she asks, out of breath. “yes, abby. yes,”

your back against abby’s, her huge hand holding your jaw, forcing you to look at yourself in the reflection of the mirror. “don’t look away, don’t close your legs, you’re not going fucking anywhere,” abby spits and you whimper in agreement. you let out a deafening scream at abby’s index, middle and ring finger slowly inching inside your soaked cunt. her attack on your pussy is brutal, your head thrown back against her shoulder, your eyes shut tight and you can only hear the slick wetness of your pussy and abby’s groans at said sound. “you hear that, baby? yeah? dirty fuckin’ bitch. so fucking dirty for me,”

“please, abs. please, ‘m so close, abs,” you try to say through moans. the fire in your stomach is so strong. and it disappears. “what? no, abby, no, please. was so close, abs,” you pout up at her, she smirks back down at you.

“not yet. on your hands and knees. face the mirror.”

the bed knocks against the wall, almost crashing through it. the squeaks of the bed go right through you and the pace in which her cock is pounding into you is mind numbing. your chest against the bed, your ass up in the air. abby’s hold on your hips is strong, her grip on your hair is even stronger, keeping your head up to make sure you keep eye contact with her. “if this dick was fuckin’ real, i’d be putting a baby inside you, fuck. you’d let me, wouldn’t you? want me to make you a mommy? say it. fuckin’ say it, baby,” abby encourages. “yes- oh, fuck! yes, want it so bad, please!” abby’s thrusts become quicker and harsher, her grip on you tightening. “yeah, i know, baby. i know. you wanna cum? you wanna cum, baby?” abby pulls you up by your hair, her hips attached to your neck, as she mutters. “cum for me, cum on this dick, baby. cum on this dick and i’ll cum inside this pretty pussy. come on, baby.” you let go with a scream, and a kiss on your neck.

—————

“you’re so beautiful, baby. drink up,” abby coos softly, handing you a bottle of water. you take a sip, cuddling into her. “are you okay? didn’t hurt you, right?” you shake your head, leaning up to press a kiss on abby’s lips.

“you didn’t, i’m okay.”

“good.”

“i love you.”

“i love you more, baby.”

“were you being serious about the baby thing?”

“you know i was.”

you cheeks heat as you cuddle more into abby���s chest, your eyes closing for the night. abby’s hands draw shapes on your back as you fall asleep, feeling as safe as ever.

#abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader smut #abby anderson tlou #the last of us abby #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby anderson #abby #the last of us #tlou #abby anderson x reader smut #abby x you

[thegnomelord]

if you write a thing about the creaming the zussy i will kiss ur boots

The boots better be shining when you're done.

How To Cure Zombies 101

CW:NSFW MDNI, crackfic obv PiV sex, TLOU Clicker trans Ghost, Top Male Reader, established relationship, happy ending, dub-con because Simon consented before he got bit but reader is apprehensive, zombie sex (does it count as necro?) how does this work? idk porn logic. Don't ask me how this happened, i hope this doesn't become what my blog becomes known for.

When the Cordyceps spread across the planet and turned millions of people into shambling mushroom infested undead, the world ended.

When Simon got bitten. . . your world ended.

You still remember it like it had been yesterday; He came back bloody, an empty look in his eyes as he showed you the bite on his arm. Your hands shook as he wrapped them around the grip of the gun and aimed it at his head. You both ended up on the floor with you crying into his chest, unable to pull the trigger.

You remember the resigned look in his eyes when he had agreed to let you do whatever you needed to him to cure him, but both of you knew there was no way, what made you immune to the fungus was as mysterious to the rest of the world as it was for you. His lips had been burning hot when he laid a soft kiss on your forehead, the last sense of warmth you've felt since the docs took him to where they kept the infected for study, your heart leaving with him.

And now?

Now the scientists that have been prodding you like a lab rat since Simon got bitten nearly a year ago say they have a way to bring his mind back, to get Simon back.

And the way to do it?

"So let me get this straight?" You begin, your voice tense, your body even tenser. "You want me to fuck the corpse of my lover? And that will cure him?"

That. You're not sure how the eggheads arrived to this conclusion, frankly all of their scientific jargons had flown over your head. All you understood was that the man you had fallen since the first time you met him could be brought back.

You sincerely hope you won't make some type of super fungus through this.

Words can't describe what you feel as you look at Simon's (is it even Simon?) bound body writhing on the gyno chair, naked and bare to you. You doubt you even know what you feel, hope and fear simultaneously curling in your stomach— You hadn't had the courage to look at him ever since the scientists took him away; The harsh laboratory lights make it easy to see the mycelium filling his veins beneath the ashy pale skin, mushroom caps growing beneath his pecs and across all other scars he has. Red and yellow mushrooms have eaten away his nose and spread out to follow the contours of his face, growing in a way that makes the mushroom caps blend together into a skull shape.

Your heart aches when you see his eyes haven't been eaten away yet, the once deep brown turned milky white and staring lifelessly past you, thrashing about in the bindings, rotten teeth gnawing on the ball gag in his mouth, small hisses and malformed muffled clicks echoing through the room.

You try to look down and you stop at his stomach, forcing yourself to breathe in and out slowly because your heart is beating so fast it feels like you'll have a panic attack. You have no idea if this will work and doing this to Simon only to find out it's as useless as all your previous attempts to cure him. . . you're sure it would break you. Closing your eyes and counting to ten you will yourself to focus, your eyes opening slowly and following the trail of little mushroom caps down to his groin.

It's not what you expected., but it's. . . a lot; Mushroom caps have replaced the lips of his cunt, similar to the hard growths on his head but these look thinner and longer, almost like flower petals framing his cunt, bright red at the corners and getting progressively lighter as it nears his hole. A sort of morbid curiosity compels you to reach out brushing your fingertips against the caps. They're surprisingly softer than you had expected, smooth and slick with some kind of slime. You can't help but notice how a longer stalked mushroom grows from what had been his clit.

You jerk your hand back when a second brush of your fingers makes his body to jerk back and attempt to fight against the restraints, more angry clicks vibrating his throat.

But you also notice a kind of… sweet scent in the air and it's coming from him. Cautiously you brush against the caps again, slowly dipping your fingers under to touch the gills underneath. You keep your hand where it is when he thrashes again, but you're certain that smell is stronger now, and you catch the glimpse of clear viscous slick slowly leak from his hole.

Carefully you push a finger into his hole in an attempt to stretch him out. Logically you know that he probably doesn't feel it, but it feels wrong to just stick your cock in him; He's cold. You know he's dead but you had held out some hope that he would be warmer, that there would be some signs of life despite how stupid that sounds.

He's dry right now, but more of that clear fluid seeps around your fingers and lubes the way as you experimentally push your finger all the way up to the last knuckle, and you felt his muscles flutter around you, clenching down as if trying to draw you in deeper. His head continued to thrash around, no change in the feral behavior, but you still try to be gentle, pushing one then two fingers in and slowly scissoring him open.

You pull your fingers out when his hole has relaxed enough to let you easily slide your fingers in and out, and he's produced enough slick to completely drench your hand. You try to look at him as you press your cock against his fluttering hole, but the sight of his milky eyes almost makes you soft on the spot so you screw your eyes closed and slowly slide in.

Despite how cold and wet his cunt is, you haven't felt anyone's touch, even your own, since he got infected, and a part of you feels disgusted at how a bit of pleasure traces up your spine. He continues to hiss and click as you bottom out, his hips bucking wildly you have to press them down. You set a slower pace than you're used to, keeping your thrusts even and consistent, afraid to tear anything but your fear is seemingly misplaced. He's so much wetter than he'd ever get before he got infected, slick wetly squelching as you bottom out over and over again, clicks and snarls accompanying every move you make.

You're ashamed to say you don't last long. Fuck, is he tight you've been ignoring your body for so long that when you accidentally brush against the stalk growing from his clit and his cunt suddenly tightens up like a vice you cum on the spot, your hips doing little minute twitches as you empty so much of your cum in his cunt that your balls hurt. You pull out just as slowly, both of your mixed fluids leaking out and almost getting caught by the soft mushrooms framing his hole.

You muster up the courage to look him in the eyes, and your heart breaks when his lifeless eyes blindly stare back at you.

You feel like a fool when the first time doesn't work, he's still just a body pupated by a fungus. And you feel like an even bigger fool when you agree to do this a second time.

But the third time. . .

You don't know if it's just wishful thinking but he seems more. . . alert. His head always follows you when you approach him but now his milky eyes almost seem to be looking at your face instead of staring straight through you. He's strangely still on the chair, teeth gnawing on the ball gag but he doesn't try to get out of the restraints.

He doesn't screech when you gently caress the soft outer mushroom caps framing his cunt, instead his chest vibrates with more deep clicks. Nor does he start to wildly writhe on the chair when you slowly sink a finger into his cunt, finding it's already wet with slick. If anything he almost seems to chase(more like stumble) after the sensation, his hips doing small little movements to push your finger deeper into him.

Emboldened by childish hope you do something you hadn't before and reach with your other hand to slowly trace the long stalk of the clitshroom (not a term you coined), before rubbing the base of the cap like you would your own cock.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the gentle pressure of your fingers makes him buck into your hands and let out an ear-piercing screech that the gag has trouble muffling. You pull your hands away and that worsens the problem, the shrieking turning into literal chest rumbling snarls as Simon starts to struggle against the bindings.

Panic rushing down your system you put your hands were they were, gently stroking the 2 inch long mushroom growing from his clit. His hips buck up to chase after your hand, the snarls reverting back into shrieks, but as you stroke him longer they gradually die down to low pitched clicks and whistles. You're stumped; the clicks sound a lot like a cat's puff, his hole fluttering and clenching around your fingers as you slowly push them inside.

He's warmer now, not quite how he was before, but not cold as a corpse either. You know that you've gone completely mad by the fact he starts to gyrate his hips— grinding down just as you get knuckles deep so your fingers can brush against the sensitive spots inside him — makes your mind think that it's a bit of your Simon coming back.

You shake your head and pull your hands away, taking hold of his trembling thighs. You're greeted with another deep snarl but he quiets down immediately when you start to slowly push into him. He feels even tighter now, and you watch how his head falls back on the headrest, a long series of low clicks and whistles squirming past the gag.

His hips move to meet your slow thrusts, tight warm walls squeezing down every time you attempt to pull out just like he used to do. And that thought has your body increasing the pace automatically, your balls slapping against his ass, every sharp thrust hitting something spongy inside him and drawing out a sharp click, the rough pace leaving you panting.

Mindlessly you look up, too caught up in the moment remembering how Simon loved eye contact to remember the situation you're in.

He's looking straight at you.

You halt mid thrust, the low hiss he lets out falling on deaf ears as you tilt your head to the side. You're not insane, his eyes follow you. They're still milky, but they don't look through you. He's looking at you.

Another rough clicking sound leaves him and he thrusts his hips down against yours with enough strength to bruise, almost impatient. Despite how stupid it is you reach out and quickly unbuckle the gag with trembling fingers. "Si?" You say, unable to hide the hope in your voice. "Are you there?" You lean over him, looking hopefully into his eyes. "Do you remember me?"

His jaw moves like he's munching on a survivor, but all that leaves his mouth are more clicks and rough grunts.

Fuck. You are a fool.

A sob tears through your chest before you can stop it, ducking your head down to lay it on his chest. You're unable to keep the fresh tears from falling on him, watering the damned mushrooms that had taken him from you. You can't stop the sobs from coming, your back bowed and shoulders shaking as you cry just as much as the day you first lost him.

His chest vibrates with another long series of clicks and whistles, just pouring salt on the gaping would in your chest.

Your name rights through the room.

It's scratchy, rough, almost incomprehensible to your ears, but it's your name.

You look up so quickly you almost snap his neck. "Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. "Are you in there?" You slowly reach out to hold his face, careful not to cut your hands on the sharp mushroom caps along his cheeks.

He looks at you back, jaw moving still, but he doesn't try to bite the flesh of your palms despite your hands being right there. "Ckckck-" He clicks, pupils going from pinpricks to blown out, "Ckckrkck- Mo- ckck-ve." He manages, a thrust of his hips accompanying the order.

Your heart leaps to your throat and you can do nothing but follow it, sliding one hand down to dig your nails into his thigh, looming over him as you pull out until only the head is inside and them slam into him that there's an audible clap of skin on skin as you bottom out. A half shriek half click half "Yes!" escapes him as he throws his head back, slack jawed.

A whole range of noises escapes him as you hammer into him with all you've got, one hand remaining always on his face. You can feel him getting hotter the longer you pound into him, body shaking as each thrust nails his sensitive spot. He gets progressively tighter and tighter as you fuck into him, and you let go of his thigh to carefully strike along the long shaft of the clitshroom.

He shrieks at the top of his lungs and his cunt clenches down on you like a vice, fluttering around you and gripping your cock like it doesn't want you to pull out. It pulls you into an orgasm,

"Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. He's too silent compared to how vocal he had been a few moments ago. "Are you in there?"

His head rolls a bit, peering at you through through his lashes, tongue moving heavily in his mouth and lips twitching up into a soft of barely-there grin. "Cckck- l- ckckc- love- ckrk-you -ckkckrkckck-"

Taglist: @dead-end-stuff

#gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #male reader #top male reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #the last of us cod au #the last of us #trans character #idk how this happened #Clicker Simon Ghost Riley

[jpbpxma]

as you wish, princess;

content warnings/tags: nsfw, contains a lot of smut, oral sex (f. receiving), spanking, choking, pussy slapping, doggy-style, joel miller x reader, age gap (not mentioned).

"No Joel, I'm not listening to what you have to say. You were clearly flirting with her," you say, seething despite the cringe you feel at yourself for your immature, jealous behaviour. You cross your arms in front of you and start to walk away. "Okay, no no wait-" Joel says panickedly, running in front of you and grabbing you by the shoulders, "Listen, she was just asking me about fixing something about her car- anyways, it's not important and not what you think." "Right and how exactly is practically groping someone's biceps related to car repair? " You counter, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean, come on, who wouldn't want to cope a feel at these babies? " Joel smirks, pushing up his sleeve to reveal his obviously quite impressive bicep. You feel yourself soften a little at this playful side of him that only you seemed to bring out and would've admired his bicep more, even turned on by it a bit, if you weren't fuming. "Ugh! " You brush his hand off, rolling your eyes as you walk around and past him to make your way to the bedroom. As you sit down on the bed, he kneels in front of you. "I'm sorry, it honestly didn't even cross my mind that she was flirting," he continues, holding your hands. "Whatever," you dismiss him, although he could tell you were melting slowly but surely as you keep your hands in his.

He moves to sit beside you, a slight smile on his face told you the wheels in his head were turning. "Would this help make it up to you? " He murmurs as he pushes your hair behind your ear and nibbling on your earlobe. "No," you say firmly, holding onto your pride. He hums as he makes his way down, trailing kisses on your jawline and stops to suck on your neck. "How about now, baby? " He asks again, in a low voice. Still in denial, you shake your head no despite his actions making your core throb. Letting go of your hand, his hand slides into your pants, making you gasp when he makes contact.

"Gotcha," he rubs his middle finger up and down your slit while his thumb presses into your clit, moving it in a very tight circle. Already breathless and putty in his hands, you lean on him subconsciously as he gathers your wetness on his fingers. He brings his slick fingers to his mouth, letting out a satisfied mmh when he tastes you. You couldn't help but smile at this, practically vibrating with how turned on you were now. His hands gently push you back onto the bed as he climbs on top of you to kiss you with a new vigour, then making his way kissing down your body.

He unfastens the button of your jeans and swiftly yanks them down along with your panties, all the way off where he pauses for just a second. The corners of your mouth lift into a smile at Joel's momentary admiration of your pussy on the edge of your bed. His eyes flicker up to meet yours, maintaining eye contact as he slowly sank to his knees in front of you. You spread your legs, giving into him despite yourself as his lips ghost over your warm heat. He spreads your folds apart and licks a long stripe from your entrance to your clit with a flattened tongue.

You bite down a moan, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as your hips roll up against Joel's tongue. In between long licks and penetrating jabs of his tongue, you hear him muttering about how pretty your pussy is and how good you taste. Feeling warmth creep up your cheeks at his words, you let yourself go to him - anger completely dissipated. You grasp his hair and pull him off you, "I want you inside me, now, I can't wait," you demand. "As you wish, princess," Joel winks at you, licking his lips which were covered in your juices.

He climbs up your body to stop in front of you face, taking your lips in his. You moan as you taste yourself, his hands roaming under your shirt to thumb across your nipples. Your body arches involuntarily to get closer to his touch, you just couldn't get enough. He's lining himself up with your entrance when you touch his shoulder to stop him. "Actually I want you to fuck me doggy-style," you state, trying your luck as he usually preferred positions where he could see your face. Joel just laughs at your many demands, but is ready and willing to do anything to make it up to you.

He lifts you up and turns you around so you were on your hands and knees on the bed. "God, you're so beautiful," he lets out a sigh, groping your ass before landing a sharp smack across your left cheek. Your head tips back at the strike, a whimper leaving your lips as he does it again. Arousal drips down your thighs with every spank as your fingers grip the sheets below your tightly. He soothes the burn with a few gentle strokes of his palm, humming in approval when you arch your back. "Fuck, Joel, just fuck me already," you moan out, the constant stimulation with no release more torturous than you expected.

"Okay, okay, my pretty baby, I'm sorry, no more teasing," he soothes, kissing your shoulder as he positions himself behind you. Stroking his length a few times, he lines up his tip with your entrance, doing some shallow thrusts first. Your whimpers grow louder as he continues, pleas and begs falling carelessly from your lips as you rut against his cock. He sinks into you slowly, finally giving you what you want, shuddering when your walls surround his length in an intoxicating grip. Without warning, he increases the tempo, his hips slapping loudly against your ass as he pounds into you.

"Joel- oh my god- fuck, choke me," you rasp, taking the opportunity to fully give in to your desires. Joel usually doesn't like choking you, not wanting to hurt you in any way, especially considering how much bigger he was than you but now that he was at your mercy, he couldn't say no. He wraps his thick fingers around the base of your neck, squeezing lightly to test out the waters. He groans when you clench around him in response, increasing his speed while constricting your air flow until your vision is dotted with white. All of his ministrations have you lost in a daze of lust, the electric current of an impending orgasm buzzing throughout your body.

Joel's other hand that had been resting on your waist moves around inbetween your thighs to press against your clit before slapping it lightly causing your body to jolt as you moan loudly. Your jaw hangs open, moans falling out helplessly as he continues to thrust into you while slapping your clit and at the same time, cutting off your air supply. All of the stimulation combined sends you over the edge as you screw your eyes shut tight, gripping the sheets and curling your toes, shaking violently under his continued pace.

You're so out of it for a while, bathed in your own ecstasy, that you didn't notice he had come too. His chest is flush against your back as he grunts your name, holding you close until his hips stutter to a complete stop. Worn out and breathing heavily, he falls on the bed beside you where you join him, your head resting on his bicep. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his embrace. "Am I forgiven now, babe? " he smiles smugly, kissing your forehead. You roll your eyes but this time while smiling. "Hm, maybe I should get jealous more often," you tease back, pressing your lips to his.

#joel miller smut #pedro pascal smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal drabble #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller self insert #joel miller age gap #pedro pascal writing #joel miller blurb #the last of us smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal one shot

[talaok]

Okay so I’m thinking Pedro x Actress!reader where another famous guy/actor says in an interview that he has a crush on us which makes Pedro a bit jealous and then we all end up at the same event - maybe Pedro gets abit angsty with him but he’s super loving and affectionate toward us…

warnings: jelousy

a/n: it goes without saying that i apologize for the wait babe, i really loved this request 

It wasn't that he hated him, it was just that if anything were to happen to him he wouldn't be the one to cry, that's all...

and maybe he'd thought about punching that smug look off his face one... or twice... or every time the thought of him came up.

But it still wasn't hate

Hate is a strong word, and Pedro wasn't not one to throw it around easily, he was all for peace and love and everything but this guy... this guy was really pushing the limits

And what the actual fuck was he even doing here tonight?

"You're staring"

Your soft, amused voice pulled him out of his own thoughts, his eyes sliding to you

"I just don't get why he's here"

You stifled a laugh as you answered "The same reason why we are baby"

"he's not even nominated" he grumbled,

"neither am I" You smiled, placing your hand on his cheek, feeling his soft scruff graze your palm "It's not a big deal babe, he probably said my name just because it was the first one that popped into his mind" you shook your head "I bet it's not even true"

Yeah right

He would have believed that if you were anybody else, but you... fuck- it didn't take him even a second to fall in love and you expected him to believe that that guy didn't have a crush on you? He would have sooner begun believing that Mark Zuckerberg was one of those lizard guys.

You were everything anyone could have ever dreamed of, you were funny, so incredibly smart it made him feel like a fifth grader in comparison, and god you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen 

he knew what you did to men, he knew what you did to men because that's exactly what you did to him,

and he didn't even mind that much, he'd never been the jealous type, but the problem with Shawn wasn't that he liked you (because he clearly did), but it was that he had the audacity, the smugness to fucking say it out loud, to admit it in front of a camera for anyone to see, like the woman he was talking about didn't have a husband, like he wasn't her fucking husband.

"I saw him look at you before"

This time, you did let out a little snort

"what, how dares he?" you mocked him, laughing again as his face remained completely unamused "It's your big night babe, don't let this silly little thing ruin it, please"

But just then, just when he was finally starting to let go a little, the focus of all of his loathing appeared beside you

"I'm sorry to interrupt-"

Then fucking don't

"I just wanted to introduce myself" 

Shawn's eyes were only on you, as if he didn't even exist, as if your hands hadn't been on his cheeks but a moment prior

"I'm Shawn," he said, offering his hand to you "I'm... well, I'm a really big fan" he ended with a soft laugh, smiling in that charming way that surely made women all woozy

"Hi Shawn, it's a pleasure to meet you-"

As you shook his hand, Pedro was closing his into fists

This fucking guy-

"Hi pal"

Pedro's voice didn't sound even a little bit not completely pissed off

"I'm Pedro," he said "her husband"

The flicker of amusement that sparked behind his eyes made Pedro seriously ponder whether or not a little punch was that bad of an idea

"Oh, I didn't know you were married"

Andrew's eyes were back to you, and god it was taking all of Pedro not to grab him and throw him to the other side of the room

Just the fact that he was looking your way seemed too much, 

How dare he look at you, at his beautiful wife, at the love of his life?

It felt wrong, it was wrong, and it was making him furious

"I'm sure you didn't" Pedro grunted, taking a slow step closer to him "Shawn right?" he asked, even though he knew much too well who he was "What exactly are you doing here?" Pedro's eyes narrowed, his head tilting "I didn't notice your name in any of the nominations"

"baby" your soft warning was met with a soft smile from him, one that faded into a stoic/murderous gaze as soon as your husband's eyes were back on the man before him

"I'm just asking a question sweetheart, that's all"

Shawn seemed to accept Pedro's challenge in the blink of an eye

"I'm here with a friend, he's the one that got the nom"

Pedro nodded slowly, "ah. Right," he said, his hand going to your back and drawing gentle circles on it

He didn't miss the way Shawn followed the movement

"And why exactly are you talking to my wife Shawn?"

Now that, that seemed to take him aback a little, but he recovered quickly

"What?" he laughed "is no one allowed to talk to your wife without your permission or something?"

"Oh absolutely not, my wife can talk to whomever she wishes," Pedro spoke "I'm just not very fond of her talking to men that have openly admitted to liking her" he shrugged as if his eyes and voice weren't yelling murder 

You, in the meantime, were busy looking for the fastest way out of this place

"You've seen the video," Shawn said more like a statement

"I sure did" Your husband nodded "I especially liked the part where you described her as your "dream woman""

Shawn sighed loudly, shaking his head

"listen, man-"

"No, you listen, man" Pedro interrupted him "How 'bout you get the fuck away from me and my wife, mh?" he said more like a threat "How bout that?"

Shawn let out a loud breath before responding

"whatever man" he sighed, his eyes moving to you "It was nice to meet you y/n, maybe we can meet another time..." he glanced to the man on your right "when the guard dog isn't around"

"yeah" Pedro scoffed "Go fuck yourself, buddy"

You both stared at his back as he walked away, but after no more than two seconds, you couldn't help but let your lips pull into the smile you'd been holding this whole time

"that was a bit harsh"

Pedro only grinned as he brought you flash against him with his hands on your waist

"Like you haven't done worse" he smirked

Yeah... while Pedro wasn't usually jealous, you were... let's just say you were not exactly on the same wavelength

"you looked ready to kill him" you chuckled, wrapping your arms behind his neck

"mh" he hummed, ghosting your mouth "Who says I wasn't" he teased, his lips crashing with yours in a long, deep kiss that Pedro absolutely didn't wish for Shawn to be witnessing

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal blurb #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x fem reader #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal x fem!reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #dad!pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller #tlou #the mandalorian #javier peña #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #fluff #daddy pascal #pedrohub #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedrito #pedro pascal x gn reader

[haileesteinfld]

the last of us (2023) | 1.03

#joel miller #joel tlou #hbo tlou #the last of us #the last of us edit #tlouedit #pedro pascal #pedropascaledit #edit #gifs

[astralnymphh]

werewolf!ellie would be hairy as fuck— to put it plainly. if you asked me to be more explicit about which parts exactly, I'd tell you that every single crevice of her body zipped away from the all-seeing daisy— the bright eye of day— is bristly with appeal, and meant for no curious touch but yours. scaling over the rigid sill of your open window on crescent-mooned nights (with clear-cut consent texted beforehand, of course), ellie allows those fingers curling with excitement one could feel throbbing in the tips of to explore those crevices. hell, she encourages it— viva voce, "touch me there. mhm, you got it. don't think about takin' em off, just shove it down there— fuck," pressing a moan through her dense breath as the hand you've wedged between your stood, hotly grinding bodies combs its way through a thick and scruffy bush and lands upon a beating bead, you know the one. "god, feel how wet my pussy is? fuck— babe, know why i'm here now?" cooed she, softly spoken questions against the little growls she branded into your collarbone, her tongue ironing the indents. once your digits formed an orbiting motion on her needy, needy clit, she couldn't resist the reflex to buck any longer. each and every strand— that of her happy trail and pubes— brushed along your wrist, delighting that odd fixation with her unshorn bod you'd abandon all morals to continue tangling knuckles in.. forever.

MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . READ THIS . PALESTINE MP

#ellie williams #⤹𓍢ִ໋aestras thoughts #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou #lesbian #sapphic #ellie x reader #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams headcanons #werewolf!ellie #the last of us smut #the last of us #tlou2 #the last of us au #ellie williams concept

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

"just relax baby. you do this to me all the time, you can take it," you said, dragging the tip of the strap through abby's folds, her breath hitching when it brushed over her clit.

"i know. it's just- i've never..." abby trailed off, her cheeks painted in a soft blush.

a smile grew on your face as you looked down at your girlfriend. "you mean to tell me you've never been fucked before?"

she nodded shyly, her timid manner somewhat of a stark contrast to her usual personality, but you couldn't help but find it adorable.

"oh, my poor baby. don't worry, i'll go easy on you. this time."

lining up the strap with her dripping pussy, you slowly pushed in. abby whined at the feeling, the stretch from your cock being a new sensation entirely. you inched your way in, watching her reactions closely to make sure she was enjoying it as much as you were. because seeing your big, strong girlfriend fall apart underneath you? that was a sight you could never get sick of.

tags: @velvet-sugarcookie @fictionalgap @ihyperfixatetoomuch @marsworlddd

#imagine #imagines #x reader #oneshot #smut #blurb #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson oneshot #abby anderson blurb #sub abby anderson #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic #abby anderson fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #the last of us imagine #the last of us oneshot #the last of us blurb #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction

[ellabsmanicgf]

officer!els<3

author's note - meow i love this woman.

content warnings - black!coded!reader ig????, fluff, els i love u ellie williams pls handcuff me to ur bed and police-brutalize me! , text msgs from reader that are very me-coded! , mostly just based off every grumpy but cool cop i've seen in media, lots of notes from me i'm going insane I NEED HER!!!!! , there's a white man in a pic i put... you have been warned, smut/suggestive shit at the end!

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

- def wanted to be a cop when she was a kid and then was a total fucking juvenile as a teen. (duh!)

- always loved the police officers who barely ever gave troubled kids a hard time. (this is coming from a troubled kid. acab all the way except for u guys. well, still acab, but y'all r cool!) would refuse to talk to anyone except her favorites. i fully believe that's one of the reasons she would go into this workforce.

- when she got approved to start training to be a cop, u were home with her favorite strand of weed and she gave u a look like, "🤨🤨" , "can't be doing that no more baby, i'm gonna be a cop." , "...stfu and take the first hit before you piss me off..." , she's wearing a SHIT-eating grin before she takes it. (don't ask me how she passes her drug-tests!) (probably gets jesse to do it or someone idk maybe joel if she's lucky!) (def not joel...)

- ADDING ONTO THIS!^^ : every single time you smoke when she can't she'll look so sad or just side-eye tf out of you... "really?" , "what do you want me to do ellie..." u stopped smoking around her when she couldn't...

- this woman is so intimidating but once those cop dogs come on the scene she's so cute<3 . she's so smiley and happy they love her AND SHE LOVES THEM. she definitely sent u a picture of her with the group of the babies and was like, "can we adopt them all pls i love them ):" . you guys adopted a rescue pup shortly after...

- whenever you're doing ANYTHING EVER she flashes her badge at you and says something so loser of her , "don't make me handcuff you..." or makes finger guns with the sounds and GOD I LOVE THIS WOMAN.

- speaking of badges, she always has her badge on her. ALWAYS. it is EMBARRASSING!

- when she got her first arrest she was so happy:3 . i FEEL like she took a picture with the fucker and everything and she looked so proud of herself. "good job baby now pls get to the station before that mf breaks out of those handcuffs he looks like he's gonna murder u..."

- this is a headcannon of mine (and canon so why am i saying hc maybe it's just bcs it's more in-depth in my head.) but she loves kids and whenever she sees a younger person at the station, she makes sure that they're ok and have everything they need.

- with that being said, she HATES the teens who don't have a valid reason to be such delinquents. lovable delinquents are her soft-spot but those... THOSE ONES😧.

- definitely is a kitten-saver-cop. hates getting the call but she responds every time.

- sends u this pic anytime u say something mildly threatening to her in text msgs:

suggestive/NSFW!

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

- the day she got her uniform, you wanted to jump her bones. she came back home, poor girl was so tired and all you could think about is how good she looked in that shit.

- like i said... the badge is with her at all times... maybe this is too feral but i feel like she put IT in ur mouth and took a polaroid of it after u were done eating her out or SSAAAWWWWMMMMTHHHIIIIING. (pls let me wear ur badge baby i'm on my knees BEGGING YOU!)

- definitely joked about role-playing jailer/jailed and then it wasn't a joke anymore. y'all tried it once and couldn't stop laughing.

- has definitely used her handcuffs on u or vice versa. she gets so excited when u pull that shit out.

- ggggg...g-g-gu-....gggggggggguuuunnn ki-

- definitely has fucked u in the uniform. u two probs have had a quickie in the station bathroom on multiple occasions.

bonus round - police!els edit<3 :

#abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson #abby anderson fic #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x abby #ellie x fem reader #ellabs #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams series #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams fanart #dina tlou #tlou art #joel tlou #the last of us #tlou #joel miller #bella ramsey #laura bailey #ani's ellie🎀 #ani's writing📖