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womanpl3aser · 8 days

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⠀ ⠀ 𝒢𝒪𝒮𝒮𝒜ℳℰℛ 𝒟ℛℰ𝒜ℳ𝒮 .ᐟ

꒰ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . . . ꒱ 20.1k word count ( . . . yeah ૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა ) , fem reader [ she / her prnz ] , soulmate au , reader is hyperfem ! ! ! , she wears dresses n bows n skirts , traveler ellie , kinda mean ellie , age gap [ not rllie . . but rllie . . but Not rllie . . you’ll understand ] , nonhuman reader :3 [ she’s not a monster ] , mention of family death , dom + sub dynamics , pouty reader , pet name usage [ ex. angel, babe, baby, mama, little girl ] , strap on usage , thigh riding , oral sex [ r. + e. receiving ] , ass eating ! [ r. receiving ] , ellie has a broken limb for half of the fic , impact play , lots of praise , vvv minor degradation , overstimulation , fingering , lots of cum , ellie is also taller + bigger than you in dis fic . don’t care how tall or big u may be .

milkie’z note to you .ᐟ . . . another loooonnggg one :3 but but but ! ! i had lotzzzz of fun w writin dis one . i’ve never written smthg kind of like . . mystical-y ? fantasy-ish so . . i tink dis will b one of da bbiez i hold close to mi heart ): here u are ! ! have fun < 3333 Minors / Ageless Blogs Do Not Touch !

“ if you came to me with a face i have not seen with a voice i have never heard, i would still know you. even if centuries separated us, i would still feel you. somewhere between the sand and the stardust, through every collapse and creation, there is a pulse that echoes of you and i. when we leave this world, we give up all our possessions and our memories. love is the only thing we take with us. it is all we carry from one life to the next. “ — lang leav

the delicate flares of the moon’s light squeezes through ragged, sharp branches and brushwood to shine a pale gleam onto the muddied face of a girl.

she pants — breathes hard chuffs of air that pitches into a wheeze on the inhales upon her delicately touching a bleeding wound that’s stretches vertically about four inches down the bars of her rib cage. heavily, the soles of her dirt caked boots drag through jillions of dried leaves and twigs. she walks with a heavy limp — essentially hauling her right leg behind herself as if it had been a lone sack of spuds.

it’s cold tonight.

air feels in such a way that it’s biting — gnawing frosted, angry fangs through the thick corduroy of her jacket and bottoms to dig in deep within the cushion of her flesh. she shivers, she aches, she groans.

the eventide seems to drag . . . it’s as though the more she focused on the stinging, whetted pain of the gash oozing out precious, fine rivers of cardinal plasma, the longer the night had continued to fall — darkening the forest around her, chiseling thick tree bark into silhouettes of wading bodies, sprigs into sharpened knives, and the water of shallow riverbeds into blood.

ellie wheezes once more, watching the world tip on its axis for a moment . . slowly turning on its side, sending her slanting with it. her hand slams against the jagged surface of a tree stock as she pauses and breathes, attempting her best to relax, to think, to stay alert as her other palm weighs down upon her injury. blood seeps through the rifts of her nimble fingers — warm, thick, seemingly never ending.

she releases a trembling sigh through the delves of her nose, looking out towards the earth spread out before her underneath the short, thick feathers of her lashes. it’s nothing but a thicket of woodland and bushes. she fights to ignore that unremitting feeling of anxiety eating away at the muscle of her heart — sending the organ on a hurried frenzy that also alerts her brain of the fact that, ‘ you could be stuck in here for the rest of your life. ‘

she’d rather fucking die.

through the blurry border of her vision, albeit, she notices a glow.

nothing too bright, nonetheless, a softened radiance enveloped around the outline of a person . . another human being about fifteen yards away.

the dull blades of her nails eat through the bark of the tree as she squints her eyes a bit tighter, fighting to determine if the figure had been real or a simple hallucinated byproduct of too much blood loss.

furthermore, posthaste, a gentle, resounding giggle floats inside the tunnels of ellie’s ears.

“wha . . .” she swallows a pained gulp to moisten her dry mouth, watching the gleaming contour pick up the edges of her ankle length dress by the fabric at her thighs and begin to skip away. it moves slowly — as if a sailboat wafting upon rocky shores — buoyant and gliding. “w-wait,” ellie gives a shaky step. her vision seems to blacken for a twinkling before it returns once more. the figure seems further away now. “fuck, wait.”

it isn’t like ellie to beg for help. she doesn’t know why she decides to ask for it tonight, even so, she feels as though she can’t stop herself from following the girl in front of her.

leaden legs propel her forward. ellie feels as if she’s running, yet she’s not getting any closer. her hands reach out for the rough barks on either side of her, using them to thrust herself onward, more quickly.

she hears a giggle again — a sweet, melodious thing that echos in her ears and spells her limbs into nothing but heavy casts of molten honey.

“you have the sweetest soul i’ve ever seen.”

ominously, the voice begins to sing, quiet and prettily — tone sweeter than the syrupy saccharine of a honeysuckle, “have you ever loved a rose, and watched her slowly bloom; and as her petals would unfold, you grew drunk on her perfume . . .”

her voice is everywhere — sounding as if it had been amplified from the skies down into ellie’s ears.

she’s gasping for breath, fighting to move faster. harsh winds rush by and her feet sink into pulpy, sodden beds of running streams.

“have you ever seen her dance, her leaves all wet with dew; and quivered with a new romance — the wind, she loved her too.”

she’s getting closer. the luminous frame only about four yards away now. upon a closer view, ellie realizes that it isn’t the consequence of too much blood loss sending her tired mind into a running swirl of delusion, nor simply her imagination. no, the girl running — coasting in front of her is glowing.

a brilliant blaze of cool white exudes from her pores, glaring softly against the shrubbery around her, igniting the forest.

“have you ever longed for her, on nights that go on and on; for now, her face is all a blur, like a memory kept too long.”

ellie feels herself slowing.

her throat and lungs burn with the inhales of frigid airs and no longer can she ignore the pain of her injury. she reaches out her hand, forcing her way through the exhaust for a wink longer.

“have you, ellie?”

at the exact same moment the tip of her finger drifts along a curl — finer than woven gold, softer than satin — her next step is misplaced.

what was supposed to be ground underneath her is gusting air. ellie doesn’t have the energy to scream when she feels her body plunge down into the pull of gravity, within the darkness over a cliff.

glooming murk is what surrounds ellie’s vision when she opens her eyes.

no.

never mind that.

golden rays of warm sunshine is the first thing she sees upon finally welding up enough resolve to truly open them.

she stares at the streaks for a while, mind blank, eyes hazed over. fine particles of dust make themselves known as they drift and float within the beams glowing in through a low window that had been bordered by twisting vines.

“oh, goodie!” she hears. “you’re up.”

she’s supposed to be dead.

she plunged off of the peak of a thirty foot high cliff . . . she’s supposed to be gone.

and yet, she smells sweet yeast and hears the sound of a pot with water bubbling over and the voice of a girl. ellie flits her tired eyes over to her left, revealing her aching body laid sprawled over a burgundy, leather loveseat. her leg, the right one, has a thick plank of wood beneath it with pieces of fabric knotted firmly around the base of her knee down her shin to her ankle to hold it into place.

the gash along her rib cage is patched up, fragrant of strong pharmaceuticals that seep into the air underneath the plaster.

ellie exhales a slow, soft breath and palms her temple. her brain feels as though it’s hammering against the bounds of her skull.

“hi.”

you make yourself known.

you round the couch with your hands behind your back and an enchanting, little smile on your face as you stand before ellie. “you took quite a nasty fall.��

ellie can only stare at you for so long prior to her beginning to realize that she had been coming off a little rude. she notices your hair first — long . . so fucking long, stopping near midway of your shins in fine rivulets that do little to hide the pointed peaks of your ears that protrude out from the sides of your head.

and she tries to look away from you, she really, fucking does however, she can’t. each time her eyes attempt to shift away, they only seem to gravitate back up into yours and there’s this certain way how your smile lessens into a mere smirk . . . as though you’re aware of her strain and struggle that makes ellie’s heartbeat grow irregular.

“. . what are you?”

your brows furrow as you glance up into the air, as if trying to recall something, prior to you clicking your tongue and rocking up on the toes of your feet to put yourself back into motion once more. “i found you at the bottom of a cliff,” you tell her, voice sounding as though tiny tinklings of bells resided in the back of your throat, sending each word out pass the divot of your tongue into a harmony. “leg was broken — bone jutted out from your skin and all . . hmph,” you give a firm pout and shiver as if remembering it. “brought you back here and patched you up. you should be saying thank you.”

you walk to the staircase that resides a few feet behind the loveseat. cynical eyes of hardened sage follow your every move, watching you bend to take hold of a chubby, ginger cat that lazed upon the bottom step and adjust it in your arms.

“. . thank you,” ellie’s voice is flat.

when you turn back around to face her, you can’t help but giggle at the sight of her head, peeking up from the back of the sofa just so that she was able to keep an eye on you.

“don’t look so frightened,” you coo quietly, scratching underneath your cat’s chin. “look. say hello to ellyllon,” you suddenly pause and press your fingers against the pillowy skin of your lips, eyes wide. “mm, two ellies now. ‘s gonna get a bit knotty. call her lonnie, then.”

both ellie and lonnie quietly stare at one another, neither making a gesture to greet the other.

you let a beat of tensed silence pass, ahead of giving a dispirited sigh and letting the feline hop from your arms to prance back to where she had originally been.

“okay,” you mewl and give a small shrug. “we’ll try that again later, hm? ‘m sure you both will grow to be fond of one another. the two of you are very much alike.”

keenly, ellie watches you turn to your left to walk over to and push open a swinging door. through flashes of it waving back and forth as it settles to completely close shut, she’s able to see a kitchen, completed with a large fire pit that takes up an entire wall that sparks heavy, warm flames and an old, rustic table with a fruit bowl and bouquet of tulips in a pink tinted glass vase set upon the middle of it.

she shifts her widened eyes over to the front door where her pack hangs on a nail beside.

“okay,” she hums quietly. “uh, i just want to give my thanks for you helping me. last night was a fuckin’ blur, i’m usually much more attentive to my surroundings,” she’s slowly moving to straighten up her haggard body and place both feet on the floor. “i’ll just . . . be on my way now.”

the kitchen door is slamming back open to reveal you holding a silver tray enclosed within the small digits of your fingers. upon the tray sits a freshly baked and buttered bun, arrayed with heirloom tomatoes, churned goat cheese, and hummus on the side.

your pretty, little face is full of dejection as you whimper and utter, “b-but i made this for you and,” you hiccup, eyes beginning to brew with darling tears finer than chiffon. “i have a chicken p-pot pie in the oven and — you can’t go. not yet.”

ellie’s body is molded halfway into a position of her reaching for your wooden coffee table to further straighten herself out. albeit, when the savory, sweet scent of the buttered bun and goat cheese drift within the tunnels of her nose — her stomach decides to hit her with a punch hard enough to knock her back down into her seat.

a free meal. she can’t pass it up.

“. . alright,” she utters. can’t deny that your face, although stunningly ominous, aids in her final decision as well. “just for dinner. i have to head back out.”

your tears are gone after a simple blink and you’re squealing while rushing over on your tip toes, pass another chubby, lounging cat ellie hadn’t even noticed, plausibly due to its onyx - black coat, to set the platter down on the table. “how nice of you,” you coo and then round the table to plop down beside ellie, thigh to thigh. “you have manners. i like that.”

with a huff, ellie reaches for the bread. her fingers are tearing off a decently sized piece when, abruptly, her hand is smacked away. she pulls it back into her chest, snapping a rough glare your way. “what the hell?”

you only give a sweet simper, “you’re injured, silly,” with a roll of your big, pretty eyes.

“my hands aren’t.”

“shush.”

you’re ribboning off a warm piece of bread, scooping some goat cheese on it with a delicate finger then holding it up towards ellie’s lips. your eyes are honed in upon them, lids falling halfway into glassed over irises when you utter, ‘ say ahh. ‘

you’re strange. ellie can’t decide if she hates you.

when she allows you to feed it to her, you absolutely beam and reach for a tomato. “i don’t get a lot of travelers out this way,” you quietly tell her with the fat of your bottom lip jutted out. “ ‘s jus’ me and my kitties and goaties and horse and piglets and chickens. on the rare occasion that someone does venture into this part of the forest,” a twinkle shines within the pupils of your eyes as ellie slowly chews. “they’re usually a man . . . i’ve never had someone like you though.”

“someone like me?” she questions after swallowing.

as eerie as you are, you could make a damn good bun though.

you nod with a tiny ‘ mhm ‘ then pop the tomato pass her lips. “a girl — really, really rare. think the last one i met was about . . .” you tilt your head and look up towards the heavens as you think, small pinkie pressed within the skin of your chin. “forty years ago.”

ellie chokes on the gulp down this time and turns her head away to keep from sending some pieces of slimy fruit your way.

you jolt and hesitate upon your hand falling onto her back to rub soothing circles upon it. “ellie, oh goodness, are you okay? is it your side?”

she’s coughing hard, reaching out a hand to keep you at arm’s length. “f-forty . . — fuck, forty years ago?”

your face is smoothed over with endeared bewilderment as you nod and carefully settle your hands within your lap. you hadn’t known what the big deal was, why ellie began to stare at you seemingly harder than before, if even possible, with eyes of bright apple darting across almost every centimeter of your features.

no smile lines, crows feet, not a single wrinkle in sight.

you hadn’t looked a day pass ellie’s own age which had been twenty two years old.

the only thing that had somewhat gave away your maturity — that had ellie believing, albeit for a split second, that you were older than you appeared were your eyes.

time seems infinite as she stares into the dark, boundless pit of your pupils — letting her own globes drift across smooth irises where endless torrid summers and bitter winters of generations upon generations danced upon the surface of.

the longer she stares, the more the heavy ponderosity of her heart divests. it is as though the muscle had been shedding the years of loneliness, of dreadful melancholy, sorrow, and worry until there was nothing . . . nothing but you inside of it, inside of her, glowing bright.

ellie watches you smile. it starts off as a slow thing that has the corners of plump, glossed lips lifting until blushed cheeks were brimming, curving your eyes into sweet crescents. “oh, ellie,” you hum quietly and cup her face within the cradles of your hands.

your delicate touch sends an immediate wave of sweet serenity over the girl’s mind. it shuts off. she doesn’t think, doesn’t move, no longer feels the claws of hunger scratching along the interior of her stomach.

“w-wait . .” she slurs, watching her vision fade into a muddled cloud as exhaustion starts to pull her eyes down.

she hears you shushing her quietly, prior to your face inching in close. ellie wants to shove you away, wants to slap herself, make herself get it together, nonetheless, you’re daintily nuzzling the rounded tip of your nose against hers for a sweet bunny kiss. “let it take you, hm? . . you’re a stubborn one. i’ll make it all better. i promise.”

time is subjective.

at least, for ellie it is.

she isn’t quite sure how long she sleeps for. each instance of her waking up, through the window before where she lays, she finds the golden sphere of the sun hanging high within the soft blues of the skies, sinking below the perimeter of the horizon where cosmos bid ascending, green hills and slopes goodbye, or it simply being gone — leaving her sister, the moon, and all of her dazzling nebulas of children behind.

occasionally, she hears you humming softly, to that familiar song she heard in the forest that night. she sometimes feel the gentleness of your fingers — them peeling back the plaster on her side to gently sponge her gash clean, rub a thick paste into and bind a new piece of adhesive to it.

ellie isn’t sure if its her mind jiving and fooling her, nonetheless, she’s sure each time before you add the paste and after cleaning it, you lean in real close to where your lips nearly touch the cut and meekly, you murmur something into it, enclosing sweet words inside the wound with a final kiss.

she’s absolutely positive that you have her underneath some sort of trance.

against her waking up every now and then and finding the strength to move, she only makes it about halfway to the front door prior to you appearing out of thin air, shushing her tired huffs and groans with coos, silkenly sweet. you always walk her back to the couch, lay her back down, adjust her leg, and bundle her up within a thick, fleece blanket. “you’re okay,” you always tell her, kneeling down beside her body. constantly feeling as though her tongue had been too thick for her mouth, ellie could only stare at you through dim eyes, trying her best not to lean into your lulling touch that smooths tufts of dark auburn from off of her freckled forehead. “gonna take care of you. ‘m gonna take good care of you, ellie. haven’t i always?”

she never understands what you mean. you seem to talk in riddles — everything connected though puzzling and unclear.

still, regardless of such . . . of your blatant eeriness, ellie likes when you feed her, likes your cooking, and can’t help but begin to like your pretty face, too.

you allow ellie to wake up a few weeks later.

spring is here, bringing in tow the blooming of sweet daffodils and precious daisies. plump beads of dew make home upon the blades of grass that spreads into a field along the inclined slope your charming, little, pink cottage sits upon . . you think it’s a good time.

spring is a season of new — new beginnings, reawakenings, and flowerings.

you’re seated on a tire that hangs from thick twine, wrapped around a firm branch underneath the weeping willow tree in your backyard. you can hear ellie groaning once she finally begins to rouse and stir and you try your best not to squeal.

ellie, you think while dating the journal you hold against the seat of your thighs that are pulled in close to allow your body to scrunch up real small within the burrow of the tire. ellie, ellie, ellie, ellie.

you think that’s all your mind consists of now. just her, will always be. freckled cheeks, eyes the hue of calla lilies, tawny hair, flushed lips, bulging biceps, strong thighs, hard calves, agile fingers.

a shaky breath is exhaled past your lips as your ear twitches in the direction of your cottage behind you, listening to her curse as she conceivably gathers enough bearings to stand. what’s heard immediately after she takes a step is a tiny yowl from lonnie and you try not to giggle to much when ellie hisses back, “what the — why the fuck are you laying right there then?”

you hide your grin with your fingers, hearing the heavy thuds of a boot and the hard mold of a leg cast taking slow steps out towards the deck where you reside . . and you try not to coo at the face ellie makes as she steps out into the sunlight, one eye squinted tightly shut.

she looks around — at the white picket fence that borders your backyard from your farmhouse that stands proudly in the middle of a field acres away . . at your flowerbeds and little shed that houses the necessary tools needed to keep your cottage so quaint, at the two baby lambs sleep beside the tree you hang from, then finally . . . at you.

her eyes begin to acclimatize towards the sunbeams and she stares at you for a moment.

you give a happy sigh and rise gracefully from the swing to pad your bare feet through the grass all the way to her. “how did you sleep?”

she’s still staring at you, expression indecipherable to most as the corners of her lips pull down — not you though. you can practically read what she’s thinking as if she had been nothing but words on parchment spread before of you. she’s wondering what you are. it’s all she ever seems to think and it makes you deflate a bit and pout.

“good,” she murmurs, taking one more look around. “shit, where . . . where the fuck am i?”

“my cottage.”

“mm,” she sucks a tooth, tilts her head, and lifts her brows — making an expression that clearly reads ‘no shit.’ “yeah, i can see that.”

you disregard her sarcasm to suddenly gasp and shoot up on your cute toes. “would you like a tour?”

her answer remains unknown, drifting along a warm breeze as you start to trot away, expecting her to follow.

you’re pleased once she does.

your feet step onto the back deck of your home where a white iron tea table and two matching chairs sat in the corner underneath a window. a pink, lace trimmed tablecloth drapes along the expanse of it and right in the middle is a bouquet of white and pink hydrangeas plopped within a heart shaped vase. “this is the terrace,” you lift your arms above your head, wiggling your fingers as if to say ‘ ta - da! ‘

ellie tilts her chin skywards, admiring the pots of plants and flowers, hanging from hooks along the protruded awning that tent the entirety of the deck. she can’t lie . . . it’s cute — very . . charming.

you lead her inside the home, showing her the kitchen where a kettle of tea boiled on a grate within the fire pit, the staircase which you conveyed’s upper level chartered your bedroom, a guest chamber, and a bathroom.

beside the flight of steps, ellie can’t help but notice a short hall with a door standing directly across from her. another is aslant to it — she thinks it’d lead to the basement.

“come, come.” you’re ushering her out towards the front, through the living room. “wanna show you the porch swing.” it’s your favorite part of your home.

the front porch is painted white and a swinging, pink bench, padded with comfy pillows and a lone fuzz covered serape, hangs from the canopy of the roof on ellie’s right. it sways idly, almost to the tune of the wooden wind chimes which dangle beside the front door’s threshold and peals a sweet melody, involuntarily relaxing the rigidity of her muscles.

a clothesline hanging long dresses, fine blouses, and sweaters flanks near the left side of the front yard, completed with a large wooden tub and a washboard plopped inside of it upon the bright, green lawn. ellie tries not to stare at the night slips and panties, clearing her throat and immediately whisking her sight to somewhere else.

in wonder, her lips part at the heart shaped stone path that curves this way and that between shrubs of pretty flowers to lead out towards the gate, down the short hill, where a large meadow branches off into the beginning of the forest. it’s about twenty yards of land until it does — in which another large weeping willow stands proudly, underneath it, a few stone hedges that piques ellie’s interest, causing her brow to raise.

“my old animals,” you follow her sight with your own and your fingers poke and twist at the wooden rail of the short staircase, languidly. “couldn’t just toss them anywhere.”

“oh.” she nods slowly with the corners of her lips tugging down as if saying, ‘makes sense.’ “understandable.”

“yeah,” you sigh and the sound of your bare feet padding quickly down the stairs so that you can go and stand in the middle of your lawn breaks ellie from her reverie. “this is my little home.”

you’re proud of it. she reads it in your big smile — warm and kind and for some reason, ellie wants to smile, too.

“you like it?”

she’s imprepared of your question.

you watch her lips pop open, prior to her pausing. she seems to really think about it, really ponder her decision before nodding, voice gentle, “yeah,” she utters. “yeah, i like it.”

dinner that night consists of roasted duck, veggies, potatoes, cheesy cauliflower, and an apple pie for dessert.

ellie’s reminded of the last time she ate so good — ten years ago in her hometown of jackson, just her . . and him. she had managed to shoot her own kill for the first time — a tiny, white rabbit. fur peeled, skin braised, then covered in a sweet sauce . . . she had ate until she couldn’t anymore, enclosed within the sound of burning, crackling embers and his low chuckles at her banal jokes.

“what’s wrong?” you’re pouting, tilting your head.

you both sit at the kitchen table, across from one another and ellie has her thumbnail lodged between two teeth lined along the bottom of her gums, trying to work out a particular piece of duck that had gotten stuck. she stares out into nothing, eyes blank, deadly quiet and that isn’t abnormal.

ellie is, mostly, a quiet person.

though, you know she’s bothered upon the feeling of your own heart sinking into the deepest, darkest pit of your tummy. makes you feel as though it’s going to suddenly rush up and out your mouth through your throat or implode where it sits. it’s horrible . . . grim.

she doesn’t answer your question, merely looks up into your eyes and asks, “which way to texas from here?”

you take your time replying — inhale a breath, straighten your spine, stand, then reach for both your dishes to stack and walk over to the sink. “you’re leaving?”

ellie nods, “yeah . . got to.”

“you got someone waitin’ for you?”

she doesn’t. she wants to tell you that she does though. “no,” the word comes out before she can even attempt to lie — tickles up her esophagus in front of the real truth falling off of the sheet of her tongue, making her brows furrow at her own answer, taken aback. “uh, no. i guess i don’t. i just—“

“—why are you in such a hurry then?” your pointed ears flick as you turn back around to face her.

your face . . . how cute. lips pursed, eyebrows dipped in low, cheeks puffed. a lone piece of a honey crisp apple dots the corner of your mouth . . ellie’s thumb twitches in your direction, wanting to swipe it away.

“why are you fighting to keep me here?” her question hangs within the atmosphere of the kitchen like a thick cloak. her eyes are drilling as they stare into yours and she slowly leans forward, familiarity beginning to brighten her face. her mind flows her through that night all those weeks ago . . . of the glowing silhouette and elfin song. “that was you,” she utters, voice soft. that was you . . . she had fallen off of a cliff trying to chase you. “you in the forest . . singing. what—“ she stops herself, scoffs a bit, and looks away. “who the hell are you?”

you haven’t told her your name. all this time has passed and you haven’t told her your name, what you are, what you want from her.

it all seems to suddenly hit ellie at once.

and you, you mewl and walk over, taking her by surprise once you kneel in front of her and take a seat upon your haunches. your lashes are long as you bat them up at her, nevertheless — even in a position so servile, so . . . obedient, ellie knows that it’s not her in control here.

you tell her your name quietly, plump lips curving around the syllables with a hum. “y-yeah,” you stammer and look away, suddenly sheepish. “that was me in the forest, but, ellie,” you perk up, face earnest and imploring. “i never meant for — this, your leg, i . . at first i just saw a figure and i,” your mind seems to take you back and your eyes absolutely sparkle as you stare off at a lone piece of firewood propped up against the kitchen’s doorframe. “i got so happy, ‘cause i knew who you were and . . regardless, i haven’t had a visitor in such a long time and i jus’ wanted to . . play, have some fun, i don’t know but i see now that, hm,” you huff and frown. “i took it a little too far. it doesn’t help that . . . that . .”

when you look back up into her eyes, your own are tender and soft. you stare at ellie as if she had been everything and more — the creator of all things good and divine and ellie’s chest begins to burn because . . geez, she’s never held someone’s stare for so long and this intense.

“what?” she asks, irises flicking from left to right within your own, searching for an answer. “it doesn’t help that what?”

you shuffle closer on your knees, fitting yourself between her legs and take hold of one of her hands. cliché, ellie fucking knows, but your touch kindles a flame that rises from the tips of her fingers, up her arm. her blood warms a degree hotter and it all swarms up to her face, sending a blush the hue of ripe cherries blossoming across her freckled nose and cheeks.

“don’t you see?” you squeeze her palm, just a bit. “i don’t . . i don’t know how to expl— mm,” you get frustrated with yourself and puff your cheeks out again after pausing. “i don’t know how to say it.”

you simply take hold of that single hand you held and you grab ellie’s wrist, leading her palm towards your chest.

as her face darkens a shade again, ellie freaks and attempts to pull it back, “wait—“

“—relax, ellie,” you coo with a knowing, little smile and she . . does. she breathes out an exhale and allows you to press her hand against the center of your chest, right over where your heart resides and you do the same against hers.

for a moment, nothing happens. ellie’s staring at her twitching fingers, wondering what the hell you were possibly trying to do but then she feels them — the pounds of your heart . . hard, steady . . and a bit rushed.

when another second passes, she recognizes that it matches the exact same tempo of her own. the realization makes her eyes squint as an alloyed sensation of doubt and bewilderment settles within the root of her stomach. and ellie wants to pull away, she wants to snatch herself from you, grab her pack, and hightail her ass out of here but she feels . . . stuck. your touch is not the slightest bit forceful or demanding, albeit still, she can’t move.

“i wondered for the past few weeks why the first person to stumble into this forest within the last thirty years had been you. why you had been the one to see me that night and,” your eyes are twins of gleaming heavens as you pull your hand back to hold ellie’s within the cradle of your soft palms. “it’s because you found your way to me — back to me. we’re destined, ellie. we’ve always been.”

the outer corner of ellie’s right eye twitches as she stares at you, deep into your own. “you’re crazy,” is what she whispers quietly, finally building up enough willpower to slip her hand away from yours and stand. “you’re fucking crazy, lady.”

you pout, slowly standing with her and — there it is, that precious expression . . that tiny shift within your natural, sweet resolve that makes ellie’s chest ache. ellie has to take a step back and the hind of her cast knocks against the wooden chair behind her, sending the legs scraping against the tiles of the kitchen floor. ellie tries not to pay too much attention to how your shoulders shoot up to your ears at the sound, how your pretty face screws and body tenses as if a string intertwined along your spine had been forcefully tugged from up above. everything you do, every word you say . . . they seem to be already written within the universe’s book. you don’t walk — you glide, or you skip, or you coast. you don’t talk — you drawl and soliloquize.

“ellie,” your voice breaks between the two syllables as you take a step toward her.

ellie takes another back, blindly reaching for a utensil upon the table beside her. the second her fingers touch the smooth steel of one, she fists it and shoots her arm up, holding it out between you both.

her eyes are dark, louring into yours — eclipsing day with night. “i swear to christ, if you take one more fucking step . . .”

tears, warm, soft, and shimmering, bubble up the surface of your eyes, drip off of the long cast of your lashes, and down the smooth surface of your cheeks. “ ‘m not crazy,” you whimper, chin angling down and away from ellie. “and ‘m not a liar—“

“—shut,” the volume of her voice makes one of your cats yelp and scurry along from the kitchen’s threshold. when you gaze over, you see lonnie simply seated on her haunches, head tilted, staring at ellie. “the fuck . . up.”

ellie takes another good look at you — trailing her eyes up from your soft feet to the dress you wore, long, lilac, and pretty. she looks at your fingers, your hair, your eyes, your ears. “are you a w—“

“—‘m not a witch,” you hiccup and roll your eyes, lifting your hands up to gently dab away your tears. “if you’d put the butter knife down and take a seat so that i can further explain, that’d be nice, ellie.”

ellie looks at the utensil she holds. she hadn’t even noticed that she had grabbed a weapon so callow. silence seems infinite as you both stay where you stand. time ticks and ebbs away just as a woodworker’s blade on a rind — sharp, unchanging, steady. ellie’s hesitant. you look as though you wouldn’t hurt a fly, couldn’t is a word that no longer occupies her mind because she’s positive you can. you’re not human . . not completely from what she sees, some . . . creature from god knows where, ellie thinks she has enough reason to stay on guard with you.

though, when she slowly makes a move to take her seat once more, this time, a bit more further from the table, and when she watches you go to take yours, however pause with a soft noise of oracle, then turn on your feet to scurry off upstairs, she realizes that the pained knot in her heart hasn’t always been there.

it’s strong — feels as though a hand has been reaching inside of her chest this entire time . . tying and twisting arteries with veins, knotting them all up with one another until it was one, ginormous mess.

her face is one of discomfort as she massages the area over with her fingers, trying to work it out.

you’re back within an instant, your cats are in tow too.

you carry a book, one almost half the size of ellie, and it’s thick, completed with frayed pages and a torn spine. flowers are flattened between the pages, clearly used as bookmarks, and a large bronze crest is stamped upon the hardcover on the front of the book. when you let it fall onto the table with a heavy thud and flip open to the front page, ellie only catches a quick glimpse of it prior to you beginning to thumb through the sheets quickly.

with you preoccupied, ellie turns her attention to lonnie. the feline sits right beside your feet and continues to stare at her, blinking slowly . . eyes almost squinted with suspicion.

ellie narrows her own.

the hell . . .

“here it is,” you sniffle, wiping away the last bit of your tears and ellie focuses her sight back on you. you tuck pieces of your long hair behind your ears to remove them from your vision. ellie has to stand to view the page herself when you point to it, however, just her fucking luck, the words printed on the old parchment aren’t english, moreso greek. her eyebrows furrow at the little, pastel etch of a tiny figure, maybe about four inches tall. its skin is a pale green, it has pointed ears, and eyes the color of cyan. wings protrude from its back — they’re scraggly, resembling tree branches and it wears leaves for clothes.

her eyes snap from it to another image, this one of what looks like a woman, walking along a creek, hand outstretched where a butterfly sits perched upon her fingers. she has wings too, only they seemed to be composed of iridescent scales and more rounded out. she wears a knee length dress, made of woven gold.

another image is of a woman. she doesn’t have a solid, physical body, no, she’s concocted of the water she stands in with soft blue eyes, plush lips, and hair stopping at her ankles.

ellie stares at all of the sketches for a second longer.

“wait,” her voice cracks as a slow smile of disbelief raises the corners of her lips. “. . this is a joke, right?” she looks at you though points to the book. “you fibbin’ me?”

“ellie, i’m not a liar,” you look at the book and point to the tiny, green creature. “this is a pixie . . here is a fairy, and this is a sprite.”

the longer ellie stares at the images, the more she notices that you take on characteristics from each species. she doesn’t have to speak because you tell her. “you keep asking me what am i,” you utter gently. “this . . is it. they’re all me.”

ellie inhales a slow breath through her mouth. she places both hands flat on the table and takes a few steps back so that she’s now leaning over the book. “. . you don’t have wings.“

“i can show you them,” you’re playing with your fingers, rubbing your index harshly while nibbling at your bottom lip. “they’re pretty . . . wide . . so we’d have to go outside—“

“—i don’t want to see — what the f . . .” ellie takes in another breath and looks up at you through lowered brows. “what does any of this have to do with what the hell you were saying? destiny and shit?”

you look away, soft lips jutted, “i don’t know how to explain it, ellie . . you’re not gonna believe me.”

wordlessly, ellie straightens her posture and starts to make her way out of the kitchen to the living room. you follow her, voice pitched an octave higher, “we’re lovers, ellie,” you spout through a shallow breath. “we . . we’re soulmates. two halves, one whole. y-you and me.”

ellie scoffs, limping slowly towards the couch. she has her eyes set for her pack, it’s right underneath the center table. “you’re insane, you know that? you’re crazy.” she’s getting the hell out of here. if she had known that for weeks, she’s been in the care of someone so looney, she would’ve tried harder to leave. she conjures up that you’re just lonely . . . you’ve been here on the outskirts of this forest for goodness knows how long and you’ve lost your mind, it’s completely fathomable.

“i’m not crazy.”

one moment, her backpack is resting underneath the table, propped up against one of its legs. the next, it’s suspended in the air. ellie pauses in her steps, watching it float almost an entire foot above her head . . . then it moves. she jolts, falling into a crouch, narrowly missing it when it flies past her face to halt suddenly beside your own.

you keep the sack hovering in place with a single finger.

ellie’s heart falls.

your expression is unreadable. you’re staring at her as if upset that you even had to do that to prove her wrong. “i’m not crazy,” you softly reiterate.

when ellie looks down at lonnie, the cat seems to give a low mmrph of pride, intertwining herself between your legs to plop down at your feet and fix her with a smug glare.

the embers of the warm fire casts rays of golden against your skin.

ellie can’t stop staring at you.

you both are seated upon the floor within the living room. it’s been a couple hours since dinner. the sun has fallen and the moon has made her home once again within star studded, indigo skies. since you’ve miraculously made ellie’s backpack float within thin air, she decided that she ultimately had to hear you out and understand this whole, soulmate-one bond type connection the both of you seem to share.

you had told her, “you feel what i feel and vice versa.” and left it at that.

ellie thinks, sadly has to admit to herself, that she’s too scared to ask anymore questions.

she inhales a shuddering breath through her nose, lips rolled into her mouth, watching you stroke the coat of your black cat whose name ellie has only now found out — ozias. you call him ozzi for short. “so,” her voice is low when she speaks against for the first time in an hour. and you look up at her with your big, round eyes, expectant and waiting. ellie bites her bottom lip. “. . . how do you know that i am your soulmate?”

you take your time answering; look back down at ozzi, hum softly to a lone tune playing in your head, sigh. “because i feel it,” you gently reply. “i don’t want you to go. i’m drawn to you.”

“okay, but—“

“—we’re magnets, ellie,” your voice is teetering on a tired edge, as if you’ve explained this a dozen times before. “within every life time, we find each other. that’s how it goes. i don’t know why, don’t ask, okay? i’ve been here for so long and i still can’t find a reason, but . . it’s you. sometimes you come back as a friend, a pet, a muse . . this time,” you feel a warmth span across your nose. “you’re my lover. you’ve always been mine . . . and i’ll always be yours. that’s how it always is.”

ellie clamps her mouth shut, finding herself silenced, and looks out toward the fire’s dancing flames.

you’ve always been mine and i’ll always be yours.

she hates that her stomach flips at the simple sentence. with another creeping silence comes more questions. ellie can’t seem to quiet her mind for the life of her. “. . a pet?” that one word seems to blare louder than the others.

you huff a small giggle, touching your lips, “. . it was a while ago. i resided near the gulf of mexico back then. you were a wolf,” you grin and gaze off into the fire. “very protective — if even the wind blew a certain way you would snarl and bite at it. very sweet . . kind, gentle. we went everywhere together. you’d never let me leave the house alone.”

your words revoke a sense of deja vu within ellie and that, by the narrowest of margins, lets her know that this was real and, straightforwardly, not a delusion. she sighs, “why is it—“

you shush her and stand, “no more questions, alright?” your long hair sways as you bend to grab the pail of water beside the fireplace and wet the flames, ebbing them out. “you’re curious, i know, but we both need sleep. it’s gettin’ late, els.”

you hold out a hand and ellie takes it, this time without thinking.

your touch is calming — so, so gentle and soft and nice.

“no more couch for you.”

you help her up the stairs quietly, keeping an arm wrapped around her midriff, careful with her still healing wound. by the time you both make it up to the second story of your cottage, exhaustion seems to hit ellie tenfold. maybe it was the trek up, maybe it was you.

she’s always sleepy around you.

you open the door to the guest room, delicately whispering to her that your room was just next door if she happened to need you. ellie’s then carefully laid down, bundled up, and only a second away from sleep’s chasmic embrace when you hear her quietly murmur, “sorry for . . . butter knife . . and calling you a liar.”

“i accept your apology.”

you’re smiling as you close her door, walk to your own bedroom, and take a seat at your vanity to perform your nighttime routine. kismet’s your best friend. you can’t help but thank her with a thousand whispered prayers and expressions of devotion for guiding your ellie back to you.

ellie’s dragging herself down the staircase with both hands on the rail, slowly, come the next morning.

last night, that’d been the best sleep she’s had in a long, long time. she feels . . renewed, ready to take on today’s obstacles and challenges without a moment’s haste. initially, upon her eyes first opening earlier in the day, ellie had known last night had been a dream. her floating sack, your crestfallen face and teary eyes, pompous lonnie, this . . soulmate, thing ( ? ). it all seemed as though her brain had produced it on a whim, maybe the pain of her leg was really starting to get to her.

nevertheless, then, she smelled cinnamon . . and had been greeted by a fat ozzi who plopped down on her chest, as if to say, ‘get up’ and, she’s aware now. you’re real.

you’re really here — standing with your back towards her as you stir a thick, firm batter with a wooden spoon, working it tirelessly, standing on your tip toes. lonnie, never too far from you, sits atop of a chair at the dining table that had been seemingly pulled out and angled to face you for her comfort.

ellie lugs herself over to the other, making sure to cut her eyes at the feline who only seems to give her a bored blink.

“good morning, ellie,” you sing quietly, making sure to turn your head over your shoulder to look at her. “you feel okay?”

“i’m fine,” she replies, trailing her eyes across your dress of choice for today. it’s not a dress at all, but tiny, blue denim overalls with cute bees stitched along the outer hemming and a white, short, puff sleeved, blouse underneath.

“good, good.”

you seem to be a bit more frantic today, shuffling all over the kitchen — from the stove to mix and settle the pot of grits that begun to boil over, the fire pit to check on the rising biscuits, back to the fridge to grab a carton of milk, the sink to rinse a few things off, then the countertop once more. ellie and lonnie follow you with their eyes silently.

“i was thinkin’ that maybe i’d show you the grounds today.”

you’re surprised when ellie makes her way to stand beside you. she doesn’t say much, only a firm, ‘hand it over’ while motioning to the bowl you hold. your eyes are wide and your glossed lips are popped open, “i can do it—“

“—you’re all over the place.”

you hand ellie the bowl with minimal back talk. she’s right. you don’t know what’s got you so jittery today, irregardless, you do know that it has something to do with the pretty, red haired girl with a sharp tongue standing next to you. you lean awkwardly against the counter, watching her begin to stir the batter . . . and she isn’t bad at it, not in the slightest.

she gives you a look beneath the strands of hair that hang into her eyes once she finds you staring, a huffy one. “gonna just watch me like a hawk or . . ?”

you flush, embarrassed. you don’t want her to think that you can’t trust her with the food, you know that she knows what to do. “sorry,” you whisper and head over to the fridge once more to grab a small basket of eggs, close the door, walk to the stove, then reach above it within the cabinet to grab your favorite cast iron skillet. “scrambled, over easy, or none?”

“scrambled, please.”

you’re cracking two eggs inside of a small bowl, sprinkling a good measure of black pepper, salt, and paprika onto them prior to grabbing a fork and beginning to beat them.

ellie’s clearing her throat while you do, still mixing when she utters, “so . . how do you like your eggs?”

you’re marveled at her question — one so mundane, anyone else wouldn’t think of it as such a huge feat, albeit, you do. it’s ellie . . someone that runs through your brain day and night. someone so arduous and complex you had begun to think that maybe . . . this would be the lifetime where you’d have to let her go. nevertheless of you knowing that it’d be a long one . . for what’ll feel like an eternity of misery and heartache, you now know that she’s willing to try. in her own type of ellie way, she’s giving you the go ahead for you both to do this.

“mm, over easy,” you gently say, trying not to blush too much while pouring the runny eggs into a buttered pan. “with salt, pepper, and strawberry jam on top.”

“. . . that sounds good.”

you think you feel your wings fluttering. “. . i’ll let you try some off of my plate.”

breakfast is mostly quiet this morning.

you eat, ellie eats, you both try not to stare at the other too much though find it nearly impossible not to.

ellie likes your face.

she knows that’s not the cause of the bond, thinks that if she saw you back in her hometown you’d have her awe struck, despite a soul tie or not. your features are enchanting and pretty all over.

“i’ve been sewing some clothes for you over the last couple of days.”

when breakfast is done and dishes are washed, you’re leading ellie to the living room where a few pieces of clothes laid folded on the table. two pair of pants, some shorts, a few shirts, a flannel. ellie thanks you quietly. you’ve got her measurements down pact . . her style, too. she’s thankful that’s you’re not shoving a dress into her arms.

“uhm,” you’re chewing on your bottom lip, wide eyes looking at ellie’s cast. “would you like a bath or shower? we’d have to wrap your leg for both, but i think a shower would be a little easier for you.”

ellie doesn’t care. she shrugs, face even. “alright.”

and so you help her back upstairs into the bathroom. her leg is then wrapped in cellophane, after, you’re twisting a few knobs to kindle the spray of the shower. “wash cloth’s right there and there’s the soap . . it smells like honey.”

she can’t help but sniff a soft chuckle at the somewhat useless piece of information. still, above all, ellie’s appreciative. you’ve been doing a lot for her since she’s been here.

“i’ll let you . .” leisurely, your eyes pull up from her feet, up her legs, to her thighs. thick muscle strains against firm cotton. you exhale a sharp breath. “i’ll let you — yeah.”

the day spent with ellie is . . . nice.

you had planned to show her the ropes of how you ran your farm while still managing to keep your cottage so quaint and clean — were prepared to instruct her on how you fed your baby lambs, the pigs, cows, and hens. you don’t have to show her how to behead a chicken, ellie already knows. watching her effortlessly go through your taskings, emphasis on her with a healing leg at that, that sometimes take you all day to complete is . . . gut stirring.

she doesn’t talk much, does it all with minimal difficulty.

you’d sometimes hear her scoff a soft chuckle when you’d make a tiny mistake — trip over a stone, snag a nail on a hay bed, almost fall head first into the riverbed where you both had been filtering it for some fresh water. it’s as though she had been the one living here for decades and not you.

“what now?” her voice is rich and low as she asks you the question. the sun has begun to set and a glow the shade of warm apricot paints her skin and makes the sweet moles and freckles on her face appear more palatial.

you both stand in your backyard. the chores are done, your animals are fed — nothing else to do. you hum softly, “. . . we can have some lemonade,” you look down at your feet, covered by your favorite calf length western style boots and innocently kick one out. “i can answer the rest of your questions. ‘m sure you have some.”

ellie takes a seat at the table on the back deck. a deep sigh is expelled from within the midst of her chest. she’s exhausted, of course she is. even so, only after a hard day’s work is she susceptible to the feelings of satisfaction and sweet serenity. she likes feeling useful, and if she wants to push it a bit further — be more honest with herself, she likes doing all of this with you, for you. you’re a small girl . . ellie stands over five inches taller than you. how you’ve been managing to get all of this work done alone? she will never know. the amount of times you’ve nicked and pricked yourself today was ample.

“here we are.”

you’re placing two tall glasses filled with ice down on the table. there’s a straw within both glasses and a lemon wedge tucked onto the sugared rim. the pitcher is set down with a firm thud, followed by a platter of chocolate chip cookies. “help yourself.”

ellie grabs two cookies, aligns them with one another and bites into them both while you pour cold lemonade inside of the glasses, almost to the brim. “ta’mk you,” she murmurs around her mouthful, dodging the straw to take a sip right from the glass. cold, sweet, and refreshing. “. . . you’re a really good cook.”

you smile softly, taking the seat across from her, “you think so? . . thank you.”

ellie gives a few short nods and finishes her cookies, takes a few more large swills of lemonade then lounges back in her seat with another big sigh. “so,” she utters. “let’s just get right into it, yeah?”

you give a small shrug and sip through your straw, “ ‘m ready.”

ellie licks her lips free of sugar and stares off into the horizon where the tall blades of grass kissed the bottom of the sun. “you said that i feel what you feel . . and you feel what i feel . . . . what does that—“ as the corners of her soft lips pull down, her brows push in close. “what does that mean?”

“exactly what you think it means,” you giggle and take a cookie. “i mean, undoubtedly, you feeling annoyed that you stubbed your toe or lost a pen is a fleeting emotion — things like that, i barely feel. however, i can feel when you’re longing for something . . for someone. i can feel when you’re happy, when you’re tired, when you’re angry. and you, me.”

ellie pokes the inside of her cheek with her tongue, scoffing a small ‘huh’ while tapping her finger against the table. she doesn’t know how to feel about that, she’ll be sincere. never has she been able to put her emotions into words, only actions. knowing that someone else feels what she feels — at any given moment or time . . . addles ellie.

on one side of her mind, she’s battling with feeling bad for you. you shouldn’t have to be subjected to her emotions all of the time, she thinks that’s cruel . . selfish. an agendum so callous and wicked, nothing you can say about how this could be a ‘ blessing ’ can amend her now crossed feelings towards all of this. the other, is naturally annoyed. her feelings are hers, yes, albeit, no longer having the privacy and volition to stomp them down within her chest if she wants to without you . . knowing everything is . . . fathomless.

your sweet voice is more quiet when you gently utter, “you’re upset.”

ellie smiles, looking down at her legs that she calmly sways in and out. that spark of bile making home within the cradle of your heart seems to grow larger. “ellie, i can always ignore it,” you murmur, setting your cookie down to let your hands fall against bare thighs. “if you don’t want to talk to me about something, i’ll never pressure you . . . i’d want you to tell me outright about your feelings in your own way, on your own time,” more delicately you whisper. “i promise.”

the auburn takes in a big inhale, blows it out, and lifts her head to shake it. the fire diminishes a bit. “so, who came up with this whole . . soulmate, two half, one whole bullshit anyway?”

“i don’t know,” you shrug. “the universe . . ancestors . . the moon, whatever you want to believe. for some, it’s just . . . definite.”

“so some don’t have a soulmate?” ellie finally looks at you, eyes dark beneath her overgrown bangs. “ ‘s what you’re sayin’, yeah?”

your responding nod is slow, “those are the people we call lost souls,” you pluck your cookie back up between your fingers again and bite into it, licking chocolate from your lips. “i’d say . , about eighty to eighty five percent of us have a soulmate.”

“and these soulmates can be . . platonic . . . and pets, right?”

quietly, you reply, “that’s right.”

ellie folds her arms, looking back out towards the horizon. so many questions. she has so many. “am i the same . . . you know . .”

you fill in the rest of her question yourself, “the same person? within each lifetime?” you look up towards the sky and tilt your head left and right as if you were weighing something within your head. “somewhat . . your personality never changes, just your appearance and name. you’re never a male though,” you swallow the rest of your cookie. “ever.”

ellie finds some comfort in that, “and you just,” her hands come up then fall back down onto her thighs with a resounding smack. “always find me. we’re always . . drawn.”

“i can pick you out of a crowd of a million people, ellie.” it’s not an exaggeration. it’s true. you don’t know how else to explain it. ellie is quite literally half of you, and you, her. “if at any point you decide to leave, reason being unknown . . we’ll always find ourselves back with one another.”

ellie keeps quiet, considering that a challenge . . . one that she will irrefutably accept.

⠀ ⠀ ❤��

slinking out of your cottage during the early mornings of a sunday proves to be more difficult than ellie had thought.

she has to be deadly silent — constantly takes deep inhales of air to hold within her diaphragm upon exiting the room right beside yours, all in efforts to not make any sort of literal sound. she walks slow, a snail would give her shit for being in its way. her cast is heavy and hearing it thud against the flooring, a wall, a piece of furniture . . ellie might as well simply knock upon your door and tell you that she’s leaving.

she doesn’t think she can do it.

you’re pretty, yeah, most definitely. you’re sweet, can cook your ass off, kind, clearly intelligent, there’s so many good things about you that ellie has had the pleasure in witnessing and being on the ending receiving of, nonetheless . . . maybe it’s the inevitability of it all — of the endgame of you two. ellie doesn’t like to feel controlled . . . she doesn’t like to be contained and fixed to one thing, whether that be a relationship or not. she’s not sure she can do this.

she’s huffing come her cast dragging through ragged branches and moist leaves.

she has gotten out of your cottage successfully and managed to find an opening to the forest that hadn’t seemed to be trailing her towards her doom. “fuck that,” she’s murmuring while ducking underneath a tree trunk’s tattered arm. “ ‘m not doin’ this.”

near the back of her stubborn mind, ellie feebly wonders if you’re going to be okay — if you’re going to need her help when beheading the chickens, gathering up the pigs, lifting a heavy sack of flour. what if you trip again and fall into that river stream? hurt your pretty head and lay there all concussed in a mat of moss? ellie knows that this forest is pretty unoccupied most of the time, doesn’t mean curious kids and puerile men don’t scour and scavenge to gauge if the myths and bedtime stories about what resides inside isn’t true.

ellie stops in her steps . . releases a weighty exhale . . and tilts her head up towards the sky with her eyes closed.

she shouldn’t be thinking about this. she shouldn’t be worrying about you.

she forces herself to drag on.

why do you have to be so pretty? make your house look so pretty? it’s as though you want to attract the murdering creeps looking to get their hands on a sweet, little thing like you.

the further ellie gets, the more an almost gaping ache in her chest starts to broaden. “f-fucking . .” she snuffles a hard breath.

mint green and pastel yellow brighten the sky — dawn.

she can’t do it.

she can’t leave you. she refuses. “the fuck has gotten into me?” she’s grumbling, essentially stomping on her way back towards the way she had came.

she had only managed to make it about an hour or two out, albeit, it takes her approximately forty five minutes to get back to your cottage.

feet away, as she’s re-emerging through the swirling tree trunks that open up into a stone bath that zigzags through the grass up the small slope to your home, she sees the small figure of you . . . seated upon your darling porch swing.

you’re curled into a ball, silk, white nightgown still on, knees to your chest, arms wrapped around them and the side of your face smooshed against the knobs. a thick wad of shame and sorrow spans across the stave of ellie’s chest as she lets her backpack fall upon the steps that open up to the front porch. up close, your eyes are red rimmed and glassed over, trickles of mucus escape the little holes of your nostrils and you don’t even move upon hearing her footsteps nor look up at her.

“. . .” ellie swallows and croaks out a stifled, “i’m sorry.”

your answer is only a sniffle.

ellie doesn’t know what else to say. she’s hardly ever been sorry before, she’s hardly ever began to even care for someone before . . aside from him, but . . . clearly you’re becoming an exception. you're wiggling your way through into ellie’s life, into her mind, into her heart . . it’s fucking crazy.

“if you don’t want to stay then you don’t have to,” your voice is so tiny. ellie’s never heard you so frail. you lift your head and look out towards the iridescent green and blue glow of the tree’s leaves. “i’m not chaining you in the basement or something, ellie.”

“i know.” ellie hesitates . . nonetheless goes to take a seat beside you. it’s a weird feeling to describe how the ache in her chest ebbs into nothing — no, a warm . . mushy sense of affection as soon as you’re in eyesight. you’re like a cup of rich, warm cocoa on a snowy night, that first, crisp autumn breeze after a scorching summer, a strawberry flavored ice pop as the sun’s streams beat down on her. “ ‘m sorry, i . . .” she breathes out. “god, this is — this is fucking . . i’m sorry, alright?”

you sniff again and ellie lowers her head as she rubs her brows. she understands how you feel because she feels it — the sheer heartache and abandonment and pain. she hopes that you feel how sorry she is, how it hadn’t been in her intentions to make you feel so blue.

“mm,” you use your knuckles and push them against your tear ducts, hoping to stop the tears sooner. “ ‘m gonna . . . ‘m gonna go lay down for a bit longer.”

i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that. let me make it better. what can i do to make it better?

silently, she watches you unravel yourself from your curled position — feet delicately falling against the smooth deck of the porch as you stand, your gown dropping back down to your shins. she’s left to hear your little sniffles and barely there mewls as you skim past her to walk back inside.

⠀ ⠀ ❤︎

the rest of the day is solemn.

you spend most of it inside of your bedroom, only leaving it to go to the bathroom, downstairs to feed ozzi and lonnie, or grab yourself a little snack if you got hungry. through the kitchen’s windows, each time you happen to peek through the lace curtains, you see ellie in the henhouse or barn, feeding the lambs and chicks, lugging a wheelbarrow, or even crouched down within your backyard, snatching the weeds from your pretty garden with more force than necessary.

you know she’s sorry. if you hadn’t been able to feel it, you still would’ve known. her regret shined brightly on her face the second she caught you sitting on the porch this morning.

you knew she had left — the nihilistic, seemingly waiting abyss of emptiness had woken you up in the middle of the night as soon as she got far enough. you had thought she’d be gone forever, that you’d be alone for the rest of this lifetime.

you hadn’t encountered a person like ellie before. she’s different . . . nevertheless, she doesn’t divert you. you’re intrigued and fascinated by all things her, you know you can’t stay upset with her for too long — especially come a soft knock at your door near around lunchtime.

you know it’s her.

you had been seated at your work desk, sewing machine in front of you, and round specs drooping down across your nose bridge. ellie needed more clothes, you knew the ones you gave her could only last for so long. “hey,” she’s panting softly when you open the door, dew drops of sweat peppering her forehead. “uhm,” she licks some off of her top lip. “i know . . you’re upset with me — fuckin’ livid probably and i know that i have a lot of fuckin’ audacity but . .” she pauses then touches her hair — grabs an long auburn strand that halts almost near her hips, by her ear and lifts it a bit. “i was wondering if you could . . . possibly . . cut my hair?”

you look at her through the lenses of your glasses, at the freckles and deep, green eyes then at her hair . . . then give a slight smile. “yeah, sure,” you quietly retort. “come in. take a seat over there.” you point to your vanity and don’t miss how she heaves a relieved sigh.

“thank you.”

ellie slowly enters your room, unashamedly turning her head all over to get the full scope of it.

it’s bigger than what she had thought it’d be — given your little cottage, she hadn’t known so much space of it belonged to your bedroom.

inside, your bed is big and plush, covered with dozens of frill and lace trimmed pillows. the comforter is a thick quilt, printed with baby pink carnations all over, both ozzi and lonnie are asleep upon it. a large, oval shaped, golden mirror hangs above your bed, bordered with pink roses. beside it, and essentially covering the entire wall behind your bed are old photographs and paintings, hanging necklaces, dream catchers, and vines. suspended potted plants and singing, heart shaped sun catchers dangle throughout, glinting precious little rainbows across the walls, your bed, the floors . .

“woah,” ellie’s breathless.

there’s a strong scent of you all over — something akin to rose and baby powder, fresh and clean. it makes her tremble.

“let’s see.”

she tries not to stare at you too much once she’s seated at your vanity. your fingers stroke slowly through her scalp as you try to analyze where to start first. ellie can’t help it — her eyes close at the sensation . . she lets herself melt into your soothing caress.

you try not to smile too hard. “you have a couple knots . . gonna have to brush them out, okay?”

“yeah, sure,” she nods, watching you grab a wooden detangling brush and part her hair into thirds with a finger. you grab a section and begin at the ends.

for a while, it’s quiet between you.

the doors to your windows are both open, you decide to focus on the sweet chirping of the hummingbirds and buzzing of bees outside while you work carefully, shifting around ellie here and there to better brush a piece or part once more.

“you know i’m really sorry, right?”

you hesitate, “. . . yeah, i know, ellie.”

“. . okay, good,” she nibbles upon her lip and taps her good foot. “. . . it was never in my intention to make you cry—“

“—ellie, it’s okay,” you look at her through your vanity to assure her of such. “it’s in the past now and . . all i can do now is move forward.”

you mean that — every word. there was no use in still being upset with her. she’s back, and regardless if she’d stayed gone, you knew you had no right to be upset with her even then. “okay,” your voice is tender. “how short do you want it?”

ellie looks at her reflection, “uhm . . . up to here,” she uses her middle and index fingers to grab a section of her hair between them near the nape of her neck. “want all this shit gone.”

you giggle — quietly, but you’re smiling and ellie likes that.

she smirks a bit.

“alright,” you sigh. “let’s get to it then.”

you’re careful . . very, very careful. the heavy, stainless steel scissors impart sharp snip! sounds with each cut. ellie keeps herself still; she feels as though with each slice of her hair that falls down onto the floors below, a little piece of her is renewed and replaced by something fuller . . better.

you layer a couple sections, thin them out with shears, adjusts her bangs to where they aren’t too much in her face and . . there it is. ellie’s amazed. “shit,” she marvels breathlessly, leaning in close to her reflection within the mirror to touch her head. “way better than what that old man used to do.”

you’re happy she’s pleased with your somewhat amateur hairdressing skills. still and all, you can’t help but think you did a good job yourself. with her hair shorter, it’s as though more of her face is revealed. you can’t help the quickening beat of your heart when she looks at you through the mirror and you come face to face with features so intense . . and brooding. her bangs had previously hid most of her forehead and her hair had grown out to where when she’d turn her head or bend it downwards, the sides of her face were covered.

now, it’s all . . . open. her jawline is nicely sculpted and she has a natural, cool toned contour that carves out her freckled cheeks.

you feel your own heat with sudden demure, and you quickly turn away to begin sweeping up the hair with a lone hand broom and dustpan. “old man?” you ask, not wanting a silence to stretch out awkwardly.

“hm? . . yeah,” ellie huffs a soft chuckle. “uhm, joel — he uhm . . he took me in when i was a kid back home, basically raised me.” her eyes are closed now and her elbow is propped up against the seat’s armrest. she scratches at her eyelid.

faintly, you return, “that was sweet of him, ellie.”

“yeah . . .” she sighs and drops her hand, face that familiar blank. with her hair gone, her stare is more stoney. you seem to look away each time you both make eye contact. “yeah, it was.”

“where is he now? . . back home?”

“no, he’s dead.”

you feel your own heart start to seep with dark melancholy. you stop sweeping to slowly stand, eyebrows lowered and lips in a small pout, “oh, i’m . . i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have asked—“ how insensitive.

“—it’s fine,” ellie quiets your apologies while raking her fingers across her head, sending tufts the color of dark copper off of her forehead. “happened about . . two years ago now, fuckin’ . . bar fight, can you believe that shit?” her voice is lower now and she rolls her eyes as if she had been recalling the day. “fucker’s always been rational and . . i guess, logical? right in the head? — i don’t know . . i do know that he had to have walked away but . . . those motherfuckers couldn’t let whatever he said go. snatched him up and beat him to death in the alley.”

grief isn’t a sensation you’re too familiar with. you hardly feel it because you’ve never gotten too close with others who hadn’t been your animals or ellie. you feel hers though . . and it’s strong. it hurts — physically pains you. “mm,” you take a seat upon the edge of your bed, rubbing a soft palm over your chest. “i’m sorry . . . ‘m really sorry, ellie.”

she looks at you, at your grimaced expression, your hand, how your eyes began to fester with warm tears behind your round specs.

her own widen and the rolls the chair on its wheels over to you, “oh shit, i didn’t — i forgot you feel what i do, damnit—“

“—no, no, don’t make this about me,” you shake your head, soft lips quivering. “this’ll pass . . i guess it’s more of . . . i don’t like that you’re hurting so much.”

ellie pauses.

i don’t like that you’re hurting so much.

she breathes out a slow breath.

i don’t like that you’re hurting so much.

she shouldn’t. she tells herself that she shouldn’t but god . . you make it hard. what could she have done within her past lifetimes to receive such a gentle soul like you? her eyes fall to your lips — and she hardly even thinks about it. she rises halfway up from her seat, grabs you by the sides of your face and pushes her lips against yours. you’re surprised, ellie’s surprised, but she decides shit, she’s already here, why stop?

you taste just as sweet as you look, similar to cool whipped cream and all of those fucking fruits you like to eat almost all day. ellie breathes out a sharp exhale through her nose and kisses you harder upon the feel of your little hands grabbing hold at the sides of the shirt she wears.

ellie’s slow with it, drags and separates her lips from yours with leisure smacks as if she didn’t want to pull away, as if with each peck and each skim, she finds herself craving more, more, more. when she straightens up, standing before you, your face still held between her hands — you have to tilt your head almost all the way back to accommodate her build.

the position you find yourselves both now in is . . . telling.

you soon realize that you’re dreamily sighing between pull aways, your hands grip her tighter, pull her closer. you recognize that you’re yearning, falling quickly within her spell. “e-ellie.”

when she hears you whimper — a sound connate to the one you had made only hours earlier, then, full of hurt and sadness, this one more needy and full of desire . . ellie supposes that’s what snaps her back into reality.

she pulls away, lips flushed a watermelon red.

and she doesn’t say anything to you, simply takes a step back — eyes wide with what you read is . . panic, prior to her quickly walking out of your room, slamming the door behind herself.

⠀ ⠀ ❤︎

life is a bit . . . different after that.

you’d thought that ellie regretted the kiss, that she’d run away soon after you fell asleep again and head for the hills, nonetheless, that doesn’t happen.

ellie . . . seems to pretend that it didn’t happen. she doesn’t get weird or distant or cold, no, she’s still . . a bit aloof at times, but, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. she begins to open up more over the next month, even so, telling you about her life back in jackson, the reason of her leaving ( “jus’ for a change of scenery.” ), more about joel. and it feels good opening up to her as well, revealing your wings to her for the first time, educating her about your history and the makings of your kind, and she’s so eager to learn all about it — reading through your novels and books within a day’s time.

albeit, with you both growing to know one another more, becoming more comfortable with one another . . you recognize that the two of you are beginning to inch into unknown territory.

you want to feel bad when you find her voice dipping and weaving in and out of your ears, akin to a radio being turned up then down, when she talks to you sometimes yet you can’t. the kiss plays on rewind within your hazy brain, almost all day and everyday. the way she had kept you still so effortlessly, how she stood tall before you, letting you hold onto her like the true, whiny little thing you are.

you’re both ecstatic come her cast coming off.

you try not to giggle too much at the expanse of pale skin that darkens into an olive tan near her knee and thigh. you think she looks a bit silly, however, ellie doesn’t mind. she’s happy to no longer walk with a hobble or limp, to shower without needing to wrap her leg any longer, to do things without the occasional aid of you.

summer is here — and what she brings is a bright, shining sun, cloudless skies, and humid nights spangled with glowing lightning bugs.

tonight’s one of those nights where you think you’ll be sleeping in the backyard, upon the soft palette of grass with your lambs and cats, letting dame nature cuddle you within her arms. your ears flick upon the sound of the back door closing. you don’t move from your position on your back because you know it’s ellie. her steps are light as she pads on over.

“here.”

you flutter your lids open, discovering her above you, carrying a bowl. she holds it out and you sit up to carefully take it.

“eat.”

within the bowls are frozen, cube shaped, yogurt bites. little pieces of strawberry, mango, or banana are capped inside of the treat and as soon as you find yourself suckling on one, you think you’ve been hooked. “oh my goodness.” your widened eyes follow ellie as she takes a seat, pretzel style, beside you. “ ‘s so yummy, ellie.”

frozen vanilla yogurt and fruit — like a child who has managed to get their sticky, little hands on their favorite candy, you recognize that if anyone were to take the bowl away from you, you’d probably throw a natural born fit. humming and rocking from side to side happily, you indulge upon your bonne bouche with not a simple care.

ellie huffs a small sound through her nose, smirking, watching you get lost within your own world as you look down into the bowl, murmuring, “think i like the banana the most . . — no, no the strawberry. ooh, but the mango is so good, too.”

she’s happy you appreciate the dainty, frozen treat. it’s been too hot lately. she hasn’t seen you drinking enough water or staying out of the sun, no, you seem to live outside now, frolicking about, disregarding your overall health. ellie doesn’t like that . . not one bit.

“y’ever been into town?”

your big, doe eyes look over into hers and ellie tries not to focus too much on how your lips are puckered around that melting cube which drips creamy, tiny droplets down your fingers. “mm, a while ago,” you answer with a smack of your tongue. “. . . i get weird stares when i go.”

maybe it’s your ears . . or your hair . . or the way you dress, but each time you head into the town of mullsberry located about an hour and a half out east from the forest, you register that you become the talk of it. “i don’t like goin’ there.”

ellie doesn’t understand, “why’s that?”

you shrug, popping the now softened cube inside of your mouth to slowly bite down on it, “makes me uncomfy.”

“mm, yeah?” ellie doesn’t think about it. she sees a lone trickle of yogurt dripping down from your lips and reaches over to swipe it away with her thumb, pop it inside of her mouth, and suckle it off. “well, we gotta go. you need sunscreen . . and a hat.”

the action had been so quick, so unanticipated, it leaves you quiet — owlishly blinking at her. your response is delayed. the chords of your voice seem to be shrouded beneath tiny hiccups and dry wheezes, “. . . i don’t need sunscreen.”

“everybody needs sunscreen.”

“but, i don’t need it—“

“—you’re getting some.” effortlessly, ellie ends the conversation. you roll your eyes, pushing another cube inside your mouth, deciding this time to let the warmth of it melt the yogurt for you.

ellie lays back against the grass, heaving out a comforted sigh as she closes her eyes, “. . out of all your lifetimes, who’s been your favorite ellie so far?” she mumbles, hands interlocked upon her stomach. she’s been curious. the more she learns about you, the more she adores. which one made you laugh the hardest? smile the biggest? you loved the most?

the shirt she wears is a simple black beater with a flannel over top. it’s a bit tight — rides up to stop at her belly button with her new lounged position. you hadn’t heard her question. your eyes are transfixed at the sight of her stomach, flat and carved and a distant thought of you pushing it all the way up . . . of you lowering your head to trace the deep divots and valleys with the pad of your tongue flashes through your mind.

you wonder what she’d do if you climbed on top of her. if she’d push you off, keep you there . . make you grind yourself against her lap in that same desperate way you’ve been envisioning yourself for the past couple weeks now.

“huh?”

ellie peeks one eye open, just in time to see both of your own staring at her thighs. “hm?”

you both are quiet.

ellie lifts herself upon one hand to then lean on it. she’d caught you — blatantly. you feel your nose begin to fester with a familiar heat.

“what’s up with you?” quietly, she asks the question.

you stay silent and direct your vision to the grass below to delicately push your hand through the blades. not a thought runs through your mind. you don’t know what to say. you feel embarrassed.

ellie’s voice is sweetly firm as she directs your eyes back up into hers with a nice nudge of her knuckle upwards beneath your chin, “you know, it’s basic manners to answer when you’re asked a question, hm?”

you turn your face away, now pouty, “it’s nothing.”

she turns your face back her way . . and holds it there. ellie reads the unrefined amount of shock within your eyes, it makes her smile. never has there been a case given to ellie where she’s been able to unveil you this side of her — the one who if not just as, maybe even more tougher . . and mean . . and frigid than the one you already see. it’s refreshing to finally give you a taste.

“what’s up?” is all she casually asks, not giving you the option to pull away — not anymore.

again, you whine, “it’s nothing, ellie, i swear it to the stars—“

“—i feel it,” ellie scoots in close, heels on the grass, legs agape, free arm draped across her knee. you just want to scream because, goodness, how, of all times, did you forget that she can feel it? “know i can feel it, right?”

the gaze held between you both grows dense, it weighs down upon your heart akin to a boulder on foam, sinking lower and lower to the pit of your stomach until ultimately, it ends right within your core, pushing a solid beat against your hardening clit. there’s no point in veiling how you feel anymore, what is clear that you want — not when you know that she feels the same way, if not, more.

she releases your face from her hand while gathering a deep breath within her nose. she then blows it out with a slight smirk on her face and a gentle ‘ hm, ‘ interlocking her fingers and letting them hang between her legs. her touch is already missed.

you look down at the grass again, trying your best to be as inconspicuous as you can upon your body tilting her way so that you can nudge your forehead against her shoulder — almost in the same way ozzi does to your shin when wanting an extra nibble of your sliced ham bites. ellie lets you. she tilts her head down with a slight smile, watching you rock back on your butt, still not looking at her before you tip back forward and do it again.

she doesn’t say anything. you don’t either.

you groan impatiently — a little sound, similar to a kitten’s hiss, “ellie.”

“hm?”

you press a bit harder, only this time, you also push your face up to get a nose full of her scent from within the pocket of her neck. she smells like your soap, nonetheless, something strong and woodsy and almost directly after her scent is entering then coasting between the lines of your veins, a vicious wave of syrupy slick finds its home within the seat of your little panties.

you push yourself between her arms, separating them, prior to you shoving her legs down flat to then swing your knee onto the other side of her hip and take a seat. your actions are quick, but . . they are also anticipated. ellie isn’t taken off guard, not in the slightest bit. in all fact, she even quietly chuckles at the feel of you push your face deeper inside of that splendid, little pocket of her neck to get another deep whiff of her smell. your hands are grappling at her shoulders, small fists gathering the fabric of her flannel between them, pulling.

“mm, ( ❤︎ ) . . . (-(❤︎), babe, hold on.”

“no.”

your hand is grabbing a chunk of her hair at the crown to pull her head back. you don’t hesitate, no, you dive head first, colliding your lips against the soft surface of hers, breathing her in, holding her tight, making sure she doesn’t pull away. you’re exhausted. you’ve hit your limit with the dance around and the teasing and pointless flirting. life is short, you don’t want to waste not another second from kissing her . . touching her . . having her.

ellie hums — it’s a long, ‘ hmmm. ‘ a deep thing, coupled with her calloused hands sliding beneath the thin garment of your little dress to grab your hips. her hands are frigid to the touch and as your glossed lips pop open at the sensation, your breath hitches upon the next inhale. ellie takes advantage of the accidental blunder to touch the roof of your mouth with the tip of your tongue. when your body essentially liquifies above her, pushing your breasts harder against her own, ellie does it again. she nudges her tongue against your own, curling it around it, pulling it further inside of her own mouth.

your responding hiccup is adorable. you start to rock — pushing and pulling your lower half back then forth, dropping yourself further down to receive some friction from her shorts against your throbbing cunt.

“what are you doing?” ellie’s voice is quiet. she speaks through slight pants, looking up at you beneath the fine feathers of her lashes. she feels what you’re doing — the beat of your clit against her thigh, the way your lips separate with each pull back then smoosh back together when you grind forward . . your pussy isn’t quiet neither, no, she hears the wetness, the squishes and slurps and purls. it’s as though she’s begging for ellie, to fill her up, make her cry and burst and gape.

your counter is a little sniffle and mewl as you tilt your head back against your shoulder, eyes closed, “n-nothing.”

“nothing?”

you nod, lips falling open when your hips stutter and makes your clit catch on one of the buttons of the pockets on her cargos. “n-nothin’. i . . p-promise, ellie.”

softly, ellie laughs. she can’t help it. “shit,” she leans back and watches you, corners of her eyes creasing from her big smile. “what am i gonna do with you?”

you seriously think about the question even while never ceasing to slow the momentum you had built up during that kiss. what is she going to do with you? and what are you going to do with her? she’s yours and you’re hers. you’re compelled to gasp once more at the simple thought. your pussy produces another wave of sticky slick. “oh, heavens.” the quickening beat of your heart should scare you, never have you felt it hammering so fast, in spite of such, you know that it’s the wedded reaction of both how you and ellie are feeling. she’s nervous too, she’s aching too, she wants you too.

“fuck me.” that’s the answer to her question. you whimper out the two words gently, even while so needy, you’re still shy, still hesitant. “p-please, el’.”

ellie finally chokes up. she doesn’t make a sound, not outright, but her spine straightens . . her breath catches . . her eyes grow a bit wide. “what?” she watches you lick your lips prior to you biting down slightly onto the corner of your lower. with your eyes still closed, your eyebrows furrow, and she knows what you’re going to say, what you’re going to do. still, while feeling so good, you’re embarrassed and second guessing it. “no, no,” ellie doesn’t want that. she enfolds you within her arms. “jus . . . jus’ say it for me one more time. that’s all,” she grazes a small kiss upon your collar bone, right above the pearl linked sautoir of a gold framed, white opal heart. “want you to be sure."

you swallow, lowering your head down to press your forehead against hers. ellie smells your fine scent of roses, jasmine, and white musk and leans in to lightly brush the rounded tip of her nose against yours for added assurance. she has her answer, she knows what she wants to do. she’s waiting for you.

“i have . .” your voice is nothing but a mumble beneath the quiet chirping of cicadas and crickets. “i have this . . toy . . . in my bedroom. before you came, i barely even used it . . bought it when i went into town two years ago — was sittin’ in my nightstand forever . .” you release a breath, closed eyes squinting just the slightest bit tighter. “but then . . that kiss . . . . made me — you made me . . i dunno,” you squirm, hips shifting. “been usin’ it since then—“

“shit.”

ellie manages to lift you both with one arm holding onto your waist as the other helps hoist herself up so that she can stand. you wrap your legs tighter around her when she pushes on it and can’t help the giggle that slips past your lips as she quickly stumbles into your cottage and up the stairs. “you’re gonna show me . .— why are you laughing?” ellie’s trying not to smile too hard herself. “think i’m playing . . huh?”

the door to your bedroom bursts open as she pushes through.

you don’t have any electrical lighting, only candles. there’s about four of them lit on your vanity, two on your nightstand, and a couple more on your work desk. they all bathe your room in a light, golden glow.

both lonnie and ozzi lay asleep atop the foot of your mattress. they jolt with a slight yelp when ellie plops you down and scratches her fingers against their scruffs to wake them up.

“out,” she tells them.

you laugh a bit harder, watching your babies hop from the bed onto their paws.

ellie bends to shoo them faster with her fingers tickling their tails, an act neither of them appreciated. they trot a little faster with irritated hisses. “yeah, yeah. go. hurry it up. mommy’s mine for the night.”

the door closes behind them with a firm click. your mouth is agape, corners of your lips raised with a slight smile as you watch ellie walk back over to you, pausing for a moment to kick off her shoes. “lonnie’s going to seriously hurt you one day.”

ellie slowly slides herself between your legs to hold herself above you with her forearms on either side of your head. she’s smirking, jade irises shimmering beneath the darkened sky of the night. “what about ozzi?”

her body, lean and tall, pressed against yours makes you shudder. “ozzi,” you inhale. “o-ozzi likes you.”

ellie lowers her head down and you think she’s going to kiss you, withal, she sidesteps to peck a gentle smooch against the chub of your cheek. you squirm underneath her, knees bending, folding back so that the pudgy lips of your pussy pressing up against your panties is exposed. you’re impatient, ellie knows you are. “please,” you gasp and pull at her flannel. “c’mon, ellie . . please.”

“jus’ wait, pretty,” she mumbles and grabs the bottom hemming of your dress. “gonna be good, yeah?”

you will, you will be, you promise and you want to tell her but you’re far too pent up. words become nothing but a jumbled mess knotted within your brain. ellie hums, gradually sliding her hand down the front of your panties, inch by inch. her eyes are focused on your face, catching the exact moment when you suddenly gasp when her fingers find your clit. “shit, baby,” ellie sucks in some air through her teeth at the feel of the pads of her fingers slipping and sliding off of the slicked nub a few times before she can firmly begin to circle it. “y’fuckin’ soaked . .” when she starts to hears them — those precious little squelches and slurps, ellie decides that just feeling you isn’t going to cut it.

she slips her hand out. you whine, of course you fucking whine.

“careful, baby.” ellie’s shushing you as you pull at your dress, lifting halfway up to tug it off of your body only to get some of your hair caught in the strappy neckline. she’s smiling as she helps you unfurl it, slender fingers gentle. “see, this is why we need to take our time. there’s no rush . . we got all night.”

you sniff, “ellie, before you . . i — jus . . . can you stand, please?”

ellie’s eyebrows lift, nonetheless, she goes with your request to slip off of the bed and place her two feet on the floor. you follow her, only to then grab her hands and lead her over to the center of the bottom of your bed frame, a few feet away from your vanity.

“been wantin’,” your eyes are focused downward as you let ellie’s hands go to slide your own up her torso. “been wantin’ to do this . . for so long — think since . . . that day you helped me out around the farmhouse.” since you saw the swathe lines of her biceps rippling through her shirt, the way she parted her lips to exhale those shallow pants, how she brushed her then long hair back with gapped fingers to comb it off of her flushed face. you want to know if she’d look the same when you get to finally do what you’ve been dreaming of, if she’d let you.

ellie’s mind is blank. she holds her breath when you lean in to give one, little kiss beneath her ear. she thinks she knows what you want . . . withal, she thinks better of that. are you that type?

her lip is pinned beneath the top row of her teeth once she feels your fingers plucking open the button of her shorts to then pull the zipper down. your tongue is warm and soft — it drags down the slope of ellie’s neck to her collarbones where you drag it back inside of your mouth to plant a kiss at. then it’s back . . down the middle of her chest, near the peaks of her tits . . . and you’re lowering down.

ellie hadn’t known when she found the glossed mahogany of your bed’s footboard between her fingers, but she finds herself gripping it tight enough for her nails to leave indents within the wood. “hey,” she breathes, chin lowering to watch you kneel and tug her shorts all the way down her legs. it leaves her in her simple grey briefs. “hey, babe . . — what are you—“

“—shh.”

your fingers — small and pretty, nails painted a pearlescent, lemonade pink, dip inside the band of her those as well so that you can pull them down, too.

ellie breathes out a curse while her head tilts back. she’s exposed. she’s open . . all for you to see. “jesus—“ it’s an odd feeling. she’s had some mediocre experience with girls back in her hometown. a sloppy kiss hidden behind a park’s apparatus, a tit grope over a shirt in a childhood treehouse, some quiet fingering in her bedroom — all actions she’s performed on one, never had done to her.

she hears you hum, then the feel of soft skin upon her thigh. she has to look down . . .

and there you are . . cheek rubbing against her and your eyes are sparkling. it’s like you’ve hit the lottery, you’re as excited as a kid at the fair. “are you shy?” you look up at her as your fingers tickle up the inside of her calf.

ellie scoffs, “fuck no.”

“no?” you giggle and nuzzle up against her again. “well, i think you are.”

“and you’re just the smartest girl in the world, huh? you know everything?”

you shrug, little smile precious and adorable, “yeah.”

ellie rolls her eyes at the same while your fingers find the soft lips of her cunt. her next inhale is sharper than last and she has to close her eyes to remind herself to gather her bearings. this is nothing and she already feels as though she’s a hair away from blowing her load like a fucking teen.

“ooh,” your voice is quiet and your tone takes on a dreamy lilt as your index and middle fingers spread open her pussy so that you can catch an eye full of the wetness that shimmers behind them. “y’so pretty, el’.”

ellie hums, “y . . yeah?”

“mhm.”

your tongue is sudden. ellie’s entire body tenses the minute she feels it nudge at her clit. “oh, shit,” her voice is lowered to a sigh.

and you’re eager . . so fucking eager. your lips wrap around the swollen bud before you’re rolling it over the textured, little pad of your tongue again. you suckle it loudly with cute whimpers of your own and you stare up at ellie the entire time — eyes big and round and so empty and so trusting.

“fuck,” ellie fists a handful of your hair as she falls back onto one of her palms that press against your mattress. “yeah,” she’s breathless, mouth continuously falling open to shape a perfect ‘ o ‘ as her thick eyebrows fold in close. “j-jus like that, baby . . jus like—“ when your tongue slides an inch down and she feels the tip of it probe her clenching hole, ellie jolts. it’s a sudden reaction, neither of you expect it and her own response makes the auburn laugh around a hiccuped grunt. “—o-oh, fuck . . who . . . t-taught you all this, huh? y-you’re . .” she swallows. “you’re so fuckin’ good.”

you pull back to catch your breath and swallow her taste within your throat. “mm,” you savor the tang and brine, it’s already hooking. “no one . . you jus’,” your face burns. “you taste heavenly, ellie.” not the sweetest of fruits, the most tender of savory meats, or honeyed candies could compare. she’s your own luxury, your favorite treat.

“mmm.”

your mouth is back on her before ellie can blink. as the seconds pass, it’s as though you get more comfortable. you let your fingers trail up her thighs to her hips, then back down to her calves, and the way you touch her is . . riveting. by its nature, you can’t seem to get a fill. what’s enough, isn’t. you’re not satisfied, not even while you have copious amounts of ellie’s juices dripping down the sides of your face, from your chin, flowing down your neck to your heaving tits.

“god, you’re so . . .—” ellie’s voice tilts on a while as she lets her head fall back. the sounds you make are disgusting . . they’re sloppy and wet and sticky and you moan like you can’t get enough. “o-open. tongue out,” the auburn snaps your head further back, looking down to watch you comply to her directions. “ ‘s a good girl . . fuck, you’re so g-good to me.”

her hips start to buck . . she drags the soft strip of her pussy back and forth across your planed tongue and hiccups at the look you give her. you look . . . happy, as if this was what you wanted this entire time . . as if you’ve been dreaming about this your entire life. “s-shit, you’re my good girl, huh?” ellie watches you nod. your nails dig deep into her skin . . she likes the pain. “all m-mine . . . mine . . for the rest of f-fuckin’ eternity.”

when she cums, you squeak. her eyes roll back and body tautens almost painfully tight but you’re pushing yourself further up, swallowing each gush and stream like a kitten starved. ellie shivers, falling back onto both of her palms to watch you lap her clean. “so yummy,” you murmur into her cunt, long lashes fluttering up to gaze at her. your tongue drags slow, wide circles along her stout clit. it throbs and aches and pounds, you can’t help but kiss it a few times, too. you don’t want to pull away, not even for a moment. “one more time?” your lips are already pulling gently at the bud when you ask the question.

ellie heaves a tired chuckle, “oh no. no. up.”

she forces you to stand and you pout your plush, glossed lips at her once you do. “jus’ one more?”

she grabs your face — in that same despotic way she did only less than half an hour before. her eyes are drilling. “don’t get greedy,” she murmurs, rubbing her thumb along the fluid drying into a sticky paste on your cheek. “y’so messy.”

you can’t help yourself. you push in to kiss her. ellie appreciates the mix of you two’s conjoined taste. she relishes in it as she turns to lay you back down upon your bed. “you don’t think i want a taste too?” she utters into the heat of your mouth while her fingers peel away your panties. “didn’t know you were so fuckin’ selfish.”

your pussy aches when exposed to the cool air and you whine at her words. “ ‘m not.”

“i think you are.”

“and you’re the smartest—“

the sudden yelp when you’re flipped over onto your stomach is warranted, followed by the squeak upon a thick smack being stowed onto the plump skin of your ass cheek. “ellie.”

“dunno how i’m jus now seeing it.” her roughened hands are grabbing your hips and she’s tugging them back to prop you up on your knees. “you’re kind of a fuckin’ brat.”

you don’t like that word. not one bit. “i’m not.”

“you are.” ellie sends another smack to your ass to watch the way it bounces back. fuck. she’s had dreams about this — about rubbing lavender scented oil upon the globes until they shined beneath the moon’s rays, groping it tight to watch the skin pale around the shape of her hand, swatting at them hard enough to bruise . . especially when you wear those fucking denim cut offs . . the mini dresses and tiny overalls. “shit.”

when she peels the rounded orbs away from each other, splitting them far apart . . she’s faced with your chubby, leaking pussy and a winking button right up top. she feels her cunt begin to ache again. “ ‘s no way in hell i’m ever leaving you again, you know that?” your responding giggle makes ellie think that you don’t take her words serious. “you’re stuck with me.”

“i know, ellie.”

she lets her thumbs graze your folds prior to her carefully separating them and gluey webs of your crystalline nectar, strung along your hole and clit awaits her. “so fuckin’ beautiful.”

ellie lets her first mind get the best of her — she swats one more smack against your ass to hear you yelp again before she’s lowering her head and burying her face within your pussy. you positively melt where you lay, eyes cycling back within your skull as your mouth falls open, “oh,” your voice is pitched an octave higher. “oh, ellie.”

she hums her understanding, stroking her tongue along your clit back and forth, back and forth to hear you whine. your hips wag from side to side and ellie doesn’t know if you’re trying to pull away or push yourself further back into her mouth but she grips them between her heavy palms to keep you still. you’re delectable. she can’t help dragging her tongue further up to taste the knitted surface of your hole above.

“ellie!”

she pulls off with a loud pucker and smiles, letting her fingers stroke between the creases of your labia to collect the product of your arousal along the pads of them. “too much?”

you keep quiet, save for your hollow breaths.

“tastes good though . . gonna keep me from it?”

when her middle finger slowly starts to breach the inside of you, you guess that’s when you finally, truly, ultimately break. your eyes close as you bury your face within the crease of your inner elbow and shake your head. “a-again.”

“hm?”

her finger slides in ‘til the knuckle. you’re warm . . and so fucking tight. “again what?”

a tease. she’s a fucking tease. “d-do it . . again,” you’re whimpering, hand reaching back to grab a cheek and spread. “please? . . pretty please?”

ellie licks her lips. when her finger is halfway free from the inside of your cunt, you hear a quiet ‘ ptu ‘ as a net of her saliva is shot onto your hole only to be quickly followed by her tongue. when you ask so cutely like that, how can she say no? her middle finger pushes and pulls from the inside of your drooling pussy as her tongue caresses the taut ring. she gets it messy — lets her saliva drip from the canvas of her mouth so that those darling, little clicks and slurps can echo off of the walls of your bedroom.

when she slides in her ring finger beside her middle, your hips buck. “oh, stars,” you’re mewling, reaching a hand down to grab her wrist when you feel her push them in deep with each thrust inside. “hng, ellie . . . e-ellie . . — please, ‘m . . ‘s a lot.”

ellie pulls back, “move your hand,” she breathes. you’re fucking with her pace with the amount of squeezing you’re doing and ellie needs free reign. when you don’t do remove it quick enough, ellie grabs your wrist and pushes it away herself. “grab my wrist again and i’m tying yours.”

she straightens her back to kneel before you and push her palm against your back, making sure you don’t lose that arch. she wants to just watch for a while — watch the way your pussy spasms around her fingers, how it drips and squelches and throbs soon after she trades the in and out technique for a more stroking motion. “oh, fuck,” she curses when she sees that first trickle of thick, white cream.

she thinks her eyes are deceiving her — has to remove her palm from your back to spread your ass apart again to watch your cunt slowly begin to froth precious, little milky bubbles at her knuckles.

“feels so good,” you’re babbling, spreading your knees further apart to feel more, more, more. “jus’ l-like that . . d-don’t stop, ellie, please.”

“ ‘m not, baby,” ellie’s voice is nothing but a whisper as she watches a few beads start to ooze down the smooth veneer of your thighs. they remind her of the pearls that are currently draped across your neck — so dainty and pretty. “oh my god . . how are you — fuck, it’s so much.”

you tremble beneath her. all that leaves your spit slicked lips are whimpers and cries, not a single intelligible word. how a girl so articulate and eloquent gets dumbed down just from a few fingers toying with the inside of her little cunt, ellie doesn’t know. but, she likes you like this. likes you just as much when you’re teaching her about your history or telling her how much she should feed your kittens and lambs.

she can’t help but chuckle and tilt herself forward to pepper a line of kisses up your curved spine, “you’re so fucking cute,” she murmurs against your skin. “y’hear that?”

her palm has to cover your mouth just so that the both of you are able to hear the thick wallows of your pussy gushing around her digits. she sees how your eyes widen just the slightest bit with embarrassment, feels how your body goes rigid and your hand scramble for hers against your mouth to pull it away.

ellie only pulls her fingers out so that the both of you can also hear the wet ‘ pop ‘ of them exiting. she’s smiling against your temple as she plows them back in for a thrust or two then jerks them back out. “so fuckin’ dirty,” she groans with a chuckle at the feel of you melting and shivering back against her. “filthy little girl.”

she plants four, sticky little pats against your pussy before she’s flipping you back over. “where’s your toy, hm?”

you’re panting, thoughts jumbled and voice gone as you let her question flow in then out of your ears. you don’t know. you don’t know anything anymore. you just want to cum. you were so close just then. everything hurts. “hey,” her voice is breaking you out of your reverie. “hey, pretty girl.”

when she kisses you, you sniff out a soft cry. ellie coo’s. “none of that,” she mumbles. “i’m trying to make it all better — make you feel more good.”

“ ‘s in . . the drawer,” you give a quivering sigh while using your chin to point to where it is. “over there.”

ellie merely has to stretch one slim arm over to pull open the case and shuffle her hand around to find a phallic shaped object hidden within a silk drawstring bag. beside it is a bundle of faux leather straps. she grabs hold of them both, interest piqued. “oh, shit,” she scoffs a small laugh. “hm . . what’s this?”

you cover your face, horribly shy. “. . . it c-came with the harness!” you squeak. “i jus . . i took the toy out of it.”

“yeah?” she takes her time unraveling the bundle of belts until she could somehow make out the leg holes and where she’d tighten it around her waist. “this is going to be fuckin’ fun.”

you watch her open the bag and pull out the dildo — it’s about six and a half inches with a hefty girth. ellie’s smile seems to widen. you know she’s laughing at the color you picked . . a bubblegum blush tone that ombred out into a hot pink near the tip. “it’s pretty.”

you pout, “are you just saying that?”

“no, no,” she’s giggling while adjusting it inside of the harness. “it is . . . it fits you, i suppose.”

she’s climbing between your legs with a nice sigh, gazing at you for a moment. your blush seems to burn ten degrees warmer. “what?”

she closes her eyes for a split second, eyebrows raised as she shakes her head, “nothin’,” she tells you. “nothing, you’re just . . really fucking attractive, uhm,” she clears her throat and leans over you as you giggle. her cheeks are glowing a bright red. “we need lube?—“

you’re quiet when you utter, “—no, no,” while grinning over your bottom lip. “jus’ . . rub it against me . . . get it wet.”

ellie groans softly, adjusting herself more comfortably atop of you, “can you . . why say it like that?”

“like what?”

she’s pushing the underside of her cock against your still creamy cunt while grumbling, “want me to fuckin’ bust untouched? don’t do that.”

“think i do.”

“what’s gotten into you?”

“ellie, i’m achy—“

she slides in nice and smooth, watching your words die out on your tongue. the face you make is incredible — your eyebrows even out, mouth drops. “there you go,” ellie hums and breathes out once she reaches the hilt. your pussy is spread wide against the girth of the strap and she can’t help but adore that she has all access to your clit now that it’s fully exposed from the folds of your lips. “feel nice?”

“yeah,” you whimper and nod quickly, hands sliding up to her hips. “s-so good.”

“mhm.” rolling her lips inside of her mouth, ellie pulls her hips back a couple inches and pushes herself back forward. “. . . you’ve really been using this for the past few weeks? every night?”

you smile around a dreamy little moan and bat your eyes open to look up into hers, “yeah,” you repeat. “jus’ thought of you . . . spreading me open . . bending me up, makin’ me . . t-take it.”

“oh my god.”

ellie supposes she’s never saw this side of you before. the one not so shy, the one who sees what she wants and takes it — regardless of you having to pull out the whines and the pouts and huffs to get it. she reaches for your knees, the backs of them, and folds them until they find the lobes of your ears. you gasp, widened, glistening eyes gazing up into hers prior to you nodding, “l-like that, mhm . . j-jus’ like that.”

ellie lets a web of her spit fall onto the dildo to wax it just the tiniest bit sleeker. “don’t move.” she gives you what you want — tugs herself back and makes her hips fall again to drop her cock in and out of your needy pussy. and you take it . . you take it so fucking good. your voice is caught in your throat as you lay there and keep still, eyes squinted shut and mouth wide open.

“o-oh fuck,” ellie moans, feeling the harness knock against her clit with each pound inside of you. “fuck, baby . . why are you — s-so fuckin’ pretty — god.”

you suck in a squeaking inhale, arms pulling ellie in, in, in until her face is tucked within the curve of your neck and your legs are draped over her shoulders. “oh, christ — holy . . ‘s so deep. e-ellie . .” you’ve never felt it so deep. “oh, my.”

your pussy thanks her with ringing gurgles and sucks. it feels so good. she feels like heaven personified atop of you, heart against yours, hands indenting marks within your skin, lips siphoned around a chunk of your neck to bruise a love bite. your nails dig into her skin for a grip as she increases her momentum. “been wantin’ you for so long,” you hear her whisper beneath your ear. “been needin’ to kiss you . . f-fuckin . . hold you . . make this pussy all mine.”

“yes,” you hiccup as your little toes curl. “p-please, ‘s yours. ‘m yours . . i promise.”

“i know,” she moans and abruptly slams in to keep herself there for a moment. “i know, baby . . . t-think i wanna see you. i gotta see you.”

you let her pull herself away so that she can pull out and roll atop her back. “c’mere,” she’s hurried. ellie doesn’t want to keep herself away from you for a second longer. “ride it for me?”

you veer one of your legs to her other side and lean over onto a palm to reach back and carefully lead her cock back inside. “ellie,” you sigh her name sweetly. she’s so pretty, hair haloed upon the pillow, darkened eyes of sage locked upon your face.

she groans, hands clutched at your waist to carefully begin to push you up and down her length. your hair’s so long, you have to gather it all onto one shoulder to keep it out of the way and ellie shouldn’t find that so endearing but she does. everything about you is absolutely bewitching. “fuck, baby,” she’s breathless, watching you lean forward to steadily stroke your cunt from crown to base, hips seemingly made of water. “keep goin’, yeah?”

you nod, bottom lip bitten, “s-so good . . your cock feels so good, ellie.”

your words make her shiver. she groans, grabbing hold the spheres of your ass to begin to make you rock harder, faster. “so filthy,” she whispers, swatting it when you release a particular loud sob. why the fuck did she put up a front for so long? that she didn’t want you? she can’t imagine never feeling this, seeing this again. “fuckin’ dirty — how can someone so pretty be this fuckin’ dirty, huh?”

you hic, keeping still for when she begins to meet you halfway, pounding you effortlessly from the bottom without a breath hiked. “ ‘m gonna c-cum, ellie,” you warn. you’re crying — beautifully, might she add, literal glitter encrusted tears cascading down the lower line of your lashes and down your soft cheeks. ellie hates that her cunt throbs at the sight. she feels depraved. “cum,” she utters. “cum on me. can take it, angel, y’know i will.”

she watches your eyebrows furrow and and eyes squeeze shut, “e-ellie . .” you gasps her name. “ellie, hng — oh . . . oh, f-f- . .”

abruptly, your knees knock closed and your spine straightens. ellie swears she feels it — your sticky, creamy cum gushing out over her cock, your walls compressing, locking her inside of you. the both of you are gasping. “oh, shit.” your entire body quivers over ellie’s hips. “shit.”

she smacks your ass to feel the skin recoil and you jump. ellie lets you catch your breath, let’s you slowly unwind your body from it’s coiled position and she massages her fingers within the knots of your muscles. she’ll allow you to think that she’s done, just for now. it looks like you need the peace of mind. you’re panting, eyes still closed, and head bowed. “good job, mama,” ellie lifts herself up to pull you inside of her arms. “you alright?”

you drape your arms across her to plop the side of your face upon her shoulder and nod, “mhm.”

her hands rub circles over your back and you soften. so good. you feel floaty . . completely gone.

“c’mere.”

when ellie’s rolling over and pulling out, you’re thinking she’s going to put the harness away and lay back down, nonetheless, she’s carefully turning you back onto your tummy and tugging you back up on your knees. “ellie?” your wonder is palpable.

“you okay? . . i can do this?”

your pussy is gaping, still achy . . still wanting. “yeah.”

shit. ellie’s already sliding back in. you whine, grabbing hold of the comforters within your fists.

“gonna let me fuck you for jus’ a while longer. want you to feel good, that’s all.” ellie’s selfish. she wants you to feel good, no doubt, but she also wants to hear those fucking moans . . and cries and cute sobs and disgusting squelches . . she wants to watch your body shake and your ass bounce upon her pelvis . . wants to pin you down and make you cum until you can’t take it anymore.

and you seem to love how fucking rough she is. you let her hold a heavy hand at the back of your neck and pound you until your legs give out, leaving her directly atop of your flattened body. you do nothing but cry out precious ‘ yes ‘s and ‘ more ‘s and ‘ like that ‘s as she bites down hard enough onto your shoulders to leave the indents of her teeth into. she smacks your ass hard enough for the skin to begin to purple and all you do is sob out her name as if you wanted her to never stop.

god. ellie can’t help but think she hit the fucking soulmate lottery with you.

⠀ ⠀ ❤︎

you fuck until the sun rises.

your moans and cries indubitably dance within the heart of the forest and across the acres of land that surround your tiny cottage. ellis’s fucking exhausted come the end of it, albeit, given the amount of sweat and cum lost, she’s still not tired enough to go to sleep. she stays up . . . simply watches you doze as her fingers dance across the pretty slopes of your features . . your nose and lips and eyes and pointed ears.

you sleep for what feels like eons. she doesn’t blame you. she’s fucked, what she knows, the life out of you and when you wake you can hardly even stand. “lonnie . . ozzi,” you whine out their names when you both hear scratching at the door. ellie chuckles, pulling you in to kiss beneath your chin. “mm, let ‘em wait just a few hours longer . . they’re so fucking clingy.”

“ellie, those are my babies,” you’re giggling yet tugging her in with your legs to keep her close. “mm . . our babies, now.”

ellie gives a content sigh. she likes the sound of that, she’ll be honest. muttering soft enough for only the two of you can hear, she says, “. . ozzi’s my favorite.”

your responding swat to her chest is expected, “you have to love them both, equally.”

when ellie pulls back to look into your eyes, she can’t help the smile that spreads across her face at the simple sight of you. “speakin’ of . . .” her low voice trails. “out of all of your lifetimes, who’s been your favorite ellie?” she repeats the question from the night before. she’s curious of your answer.

the question is heavy. you think about it while gnawing on your bottom lip, cheeks warming. you don’t want to say it, you shouldn’t say it. it feels wrong but, “you . .” you sough quietly, heart light. you’re happy to know that she feels it. “you’re my number one, by far.”

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womanpl3aser · 8 days

Text

Million Dollar Baby

Tags / cw: drabble, sugar mommy au, miniskirts, suggestive stuff

��Absolutely not.”

You turned your had to look at Abby, a small frown on your face. The minuscule piece of fabric on your waist looked so cute, matching with your thigh highs and Mary Jane’s and cardigan - all of which Abby had bought you. But for some reason, she didn’t like it at all. You knew you shouldn’t be talking back to her, especially because she was paying, but the skirt was just so pretty…

“Why not? It’s the last one in my size…” you made sure to pout as much as you could, looking shy and sad and anything that would make Abby relent and buy you the skirt. She sighed, leaning back in the chair inside the dressing room (a very fancy one you might add, considering her taste in fashion) and put her head in her hands.

“Baby, it’s $200 dollars- no, what am I saying, I’m a fucking millionare-” You giggled, trying to remain as cute as you could in case she changed her mind.

“-it’s a cute skirt, baby…”

Success?

“But it barely covers your ass! How am I gonna let my girl walk around in that, letting everyone see what’s for my eyes only, hm?”

And this time, it was your turn to sigh. Time to pull all the stops, huh.

“But Abbyyy…” You complained, coming over to where she sat and nudging her legs wider with your knee, before sitting down and straddling her lap. It was like hook, line, and sinker, with how easily she melted in your touch. Leaning her neck into your hands as you played with her hair on the back of her neck, burying your face in the other side and giggling softly as she sighed into your embrace. Her hand rested wrapped around your shoulders, as she closed her eyes. If only she saw the mischievous grin, too.

“You know, I don’t think it would be that bad if you were with me when I wore it, ‘n making sure they knew who that ass belongs to…”

You ground your hips down slightly as you said it, feeling her tug on the back of your hair and bite your neck as she murmured your name in warning. Yeah, she was definitely imagining it. The thought of you in public, holding her hand. Everyone watching- no, staring at your cute little ass and knowing it was a privilege to be staring, what with how you belonged to Abby. You were one of the many things only she could have. You smiled, hearing her brain do a thousand turns in though - almost there.

“Please? It’s gonna look so pretty on me, too!” You egged on. And finally, you heard her groan in defeat, as she pushed you up to look her in the eyes.

“Jesus- fine. You win, cards in my pocket.”

You slipped it out as she got up to walk out the change room, opting to ignore the bemused ‘little shit’ that escaped her mouth in a whisper as she left. Quickly, you went to unbuckle the skirt off, beginning to shimmy them down your waist. But all of of a sudden, you felt Abby behind you - breathing hotly into your neck as she grabbed a handful of your ass.

“On second thought, don’t change out of the skirt-” she murmured, “because I’m fucking you with it on when we get home…” you couldn’t help the small pulse of heat that when straight through your pussy. The clench of your thighs not going unnoticed as Abby smirked into your neck, before turning and walking out of the change room.

You swear on your life, this sugar baby gig was just too easy.

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

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womanpl3aser · 8 days

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thinking abt ellie having sex w reader the first time after the reader gives birth 💔💔 reader is still kinda sensitive cause it hasn’t been super long and they’re kinda nervous bc of the stretch marks and stuff but ellie is being soooo gentle and caring and supportive and sweet idk i can’t stop thinking abt it 😭😭

i'm literally going to shrivel up into a decomposed fart this is so cute ❤️ wrote this in an hour or so. softdom!ellie brainrot.

The sun hung in dusk. The grass stood still. Stillness percolated, as if it were summoned for you and her in this honey-sweet moment. Walls, floorboards, doors, windows. Anything defiant outside your warm bedroom walls, the flesh of your pulse - and the cradle of her palm seeking it - found a reason for placidity. Badgers, birds, jumping fishes, out there somewhere - nervous.

Her hand laid at your belly, your skin-worn middle. Marks, lines, and flaws were surely noticed under the pads of her palm.

Does she care?

You felt rather unstill as the fish. Stirred interiorly. Quiet, breathing, touched at the neck. Much more was whispered in the swallow you let plummet past her wrist, and when she felt it, it was like she could translate it.

"We don't have to do this if you don't wanna, y'know?" she assures you softly, and it feels like a flowerbed of lillies that sows into your brain. Good smelling - greatly smelling, her scent kills your worries, slowly. "But, you know that I'd be happy to - and you shouldn't.. feel.." her head inches closer, breaths drawing heavier, chuckles intruding. "..Ashamed, babe. I love you. Got that?"

A nod was quick to take you over. A timid one, albeit. But the corners of her kissed lips jerk up to it, and she loses more green in her irises. Eclipsed by lust. Big, dark, lust.

"Tell me if it hurts. 'M not trying to, so please - say something."

Patient fingers turn impatient, flicking the elastic band of your panties up and over them, shaping over her knuckles. It slithers down, rubs a warmth to your groin, further, further - you gasp. The tips compare barely to your thumping, dripping, hell-hot entrance.

All Ellie could find was pulses, it seems.

"Fuck - fuck, Ellie.." a shiver shakes your throat, and her name comes up in a warbled whimper. Stretched to the pair of her fingers, everything rang with need - but it was just that. Need.

Wanton that drives your pelvis to hump her hand, fill her palm with your pussy. It was tight to your crotch initially, so your lips, and your clit both dragged, both wept into the fate lines of her hand. Slapping your filthy mess into her skin, coating it aglisten. Fuck, aren't you just the sweetest thing of eagerness?

"God, y'missed this, huh?" Ellie coos, eyes breaking to stare into you, then down below, then into you again, then at your crotch once more. Your pussy lips took her size in easy, but gushed like your insides were unbelievably tight - which, they were. You had ached for it. Clenching her in, sucking her deeper - she missed this too, perhaps more passionately, as her lips shine dull, and she tugs them in with her teeth to wet them. "Fuuckk, you're so fuckin' pretty," her curse melds into the lip bite, muttering, siphoning off your excitement. She flees your hole empty - just a second - to slap your pussy, red-hot thoughts her vindication, working your pussy lips open again to pump her fingers back in.

No stimulation came to her parts. Tonight dawned for you, and you only. She insisted, with her eyes, not her voice, but still - insisted. And you listened. Eventually, listening became your sole task, and you gave her what she wanted.

"Ellie!"

"That's good - there you go, soak my fingers," in the moments preluding, her head snuck into the crook behind your ear as she sang you through it, so her words crawled down your nape as you came. Hot, pressured words you clasped in your ears, longing to hear their stay. Their tear-bringing echo. But new whispers barge as your hips buckle, and pleasured tears tumble, cold on her skin. "I know, I know, so good? Yeah? I knew you were still in there," a reference to past times, where sex ruled, and entanglement led. Brought you both closer. Stuck your smiles together. "Such a great fuckin' mama. Doing so good."

Her fingers still remember all your sweet and weak spots.

She always will.

194 notes · View notes

womanpl3aser · 8 days

Text

ellie baby, please move. it’s my turn.

bites index finger playfully.

889 notes · View notes

womanpl3aser · 15 days

Text

hers only

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

synopsis; gf!abby does not like clara, the gym trainer who can’t keep her hands off you. so who’s surprised when she loses her composure, channeling her rage in the form of rough, hard sex?

pairing; dom!abby anderson x sub!fem!reader

warnings; abby’s jealous as fuck, a little toxic!abby but not really, use of a strap-on, abby refers to the strap as her dick/cock, and strap is referred to as her dick/cock, throat-fucking (with fingers), fingering, choking, pretty rough sex, degrading (slut/bitch/whore, etc), a little praise, use of baby/honey, one use of y/n BEFORE the smut (sorry, it was necessary), spanking, reader cries, abby gives reader a sensory overload, dumbfucking, etc

a/n; hello! my name is kitlyn, kit for short :) i’m a huge writer, and tlou is my latest obsession. so, ofc, i had to get this fic out for my gf, and much more to come. i hope you like this, and if you have any ideas for me to write, please lmk!

p.s.; your daily reminder (or a fun fact), abby canonically bench presses 205 pounds. i rest my case <3

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

she could only make it a few weeks before her annoyance got the best of her.

you were bulking up for an upcoming mission, assigned to you by issac. in the area you would be in, scar presence was heavy, and you wouldn’t be back to the wlf for a bit, so gaining muscle was a necessity.

abby just wished she didn’t have to watch that girl’s hands all over you to get the job done.

she didn’t understand why she couldn’t train you herself, why issac wouldn’t fucking let her. he waved her off, giving her some bullshit about “a lack of focus.”

come on. if she knew you needed to bulk up, if it meant it would keep you safe, she wouldn’t lose her focus just because it was you.

maybe.

but this was the replacement. some other girl in the wlf, hands all over you as she helped you do pull-ups. your body was covered in sweat, and you had been at this for over an hour. the girl, whose name was clara, had her hands on your hips as you lifted yourself up and over the bar again and again.

“c’mon, give me ten more. you got it,” clara said. you were looking at yourself in the mirror as you let out a grunt with each pull-up you did, on your tenth at this point. but you did your best to push through.

“clara,” you groaned. “i can’t fucking—“ you began. but your trainer cut you off.

“don’t use your breath. just keep going. i’ve seen you do it before. you got it,” clara said once more, tone firm. you didn’t think it would be a good idea to deny her. so you went on.

but you were fully oblivious to the pair of blue eyes fixed on you across the room.

you had forgotten that abby also worked out around this time to lift with manny, so it didn’t even occur to you that she was gazing at this whole thing like a hawk.

“abs!” manny said to abby, accent thick. he snapped his fingers in front of abby’s face, and abby looked at him both confusedly, but also annoyedly.

“huh? what, what is it?” abby asked. she had fully spaced out, and her cheeks were red. but it wasn’t because of the workout.

it was your fucking trainer.

“estás bien? i lost you a few minutes ago,” manny said. abby had gotten used to his habit of going back and forth from spanish to english, to the point where she knew a thing or two. so she easily responded.

“yeah, i’m fine. let’s just finish for today, okay? i’m not feeling it,” she excused. but manny could see where her eyes were.

you.

“ah,” manny said. he seemed to understand now, a look of comprehension across his face as he said that. “okay. i’ll see you back at the room, then, sí?” manny asked as he held his fist out.

abby did the same and gave him the small fist bump he was looking for. “yeah, see you.”

once manny had left, abby began to pack up her gym bag. by now, you had finished your pull-ups, and were taking needy gulps from your water bottle. clara gave you a small pat on the back once you had finished drinking.

“that was good. you got any more in you?” clara laughed.

you smiled at her, shrugging. “not sure. i’ve gotta meet my girlfriend soon,” you said. really, it was in an hour or two. but you’d have to shower, change, etc. so, to you, it was soon.

nevertheless, you figured a bit more couldn’t hurt. so, you said, “but i think i can do a few more reps.”

clara just gave you a nod. each time you would bring up this girlfriend of yours, her demeanor changed like that. she’d tense, and pause her words.

you knew what it seemed like, and obviously, you didn’t like clara. but you did kind of need her.

and besides, if abby—fuck, if abby knew? it'd be a fucking field day to say the least.

you ended up choosing back squatting as a way to finish off your session with clara. you ducked your head under the bar, elbows flexing as you removed it from the rack. you caved a little under the heaviness of it, but with clara’s reassurance, you did your best to move.

clara put her arms under yours as you held the bar behind your back. she squatted along with you, body behind yours as she spotted you.

you could only make it ten or so reps before you failed on the eleventh, much to your surprise, as it had never happened to you before. clara put her hands on your chest quickly, and helped you move the bar back up to the rack.

“sorry,” you whispered in a huff, face red from the tension your body had just undergone. clara’s front pressed to your back for just a moment, and you felt a little uncomfy. she had spotted you before while doing a back squat, but not once did you fail one, forcing her to really touch you like that.

“it’s okay, it’s okay. you did fine,” clara smiled. this time, she put a hand on your shoulder, way too close for comfort. and then, she murmured to you, her own face red. “i’m proud of you.”

oh, that was fucking it.

abby discarded her gym bag on the floor. she tossed it somewhere. she would grab it later. but she couldn’t fucking watch this anymore. who the hell did this girl think she was, hands all over you like that? and who knows what she was saying to you? that was abby’s fucking job.

and hers only.

“y/n,” an all too familiar voice said from your left, and you didn’t need to look to know who had spoken.

you were thinking, my savior, once abby’s voice filled your ears. but when your eyes moved to hers, you were sure your soul left your body.

because she looked pissed.

clara moved her hand off your shoulder, and you hated the way she did it—like the two of you had been doing way more than just working out.

“grab your shit, we’re leaving,” abby said firmly to you, and she couldn’t help but send a small glare clara’s way. you weren’t the only one feeling scared, because clara was pale as a ghost. she had known you had a girlfriend, obviously.

but it was abby fucking anderson?

neither you nor clara said a word as you packed up your gym bag. once you had, abby was grabbing you by the waist, and yanking you out of the gym, leaving clara far, far behind you.

“abs—“ you tried, you really fucking did. but abby didn’t want to hear it.

“not a fucking word.”

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

manny knew better than to come back to the room once he saw abby eyeing you like that in the gym. it wouldn’t be the first, nor would it be the last, time that abby’s temper had ended in a room full of sex.

as soon as you were inside of the room, abby was grabbing your gym bag from your hands, tossing it far away, and kissing you aggressively. you responded with a whine, but let her, kissing her back with just as much passion. her hand gripped your neck as she all but slammed you onto the door, free hand running over your body like it was a temple she was born to worship.

really, it was.

abby put her free hand under your leg and held it up, pressing herself into you as her tongue battled yours. you moaned into her mouth as her grip on your neck compressed, her fingers digging into the soft skin of your thighs.

what a good day to have worn shorts…

when abby finally pulled back, your lips were spilling with drool, lips numb and plump from the belligerence in abby’s kisses. your whole face was hot, and abby’s face was red.

and, fuck, did she look mad.

abby smashed her lips back onto yours, and kissed you all the way to her bed. once there, she pushed you down onto it and got on top of you, her large thighs on either side of your lap.

if you weren’t in for it before, you surely were now.

abby reached her arm out to open the drawer of her bedside table, and it was only a moment or two before she was pulling out a very familiar item.

her strap.

“a- abs, wh- what are you—“ you began dumbly, way too curious to find out what it was she had in mind. but abby wasn’t feeling at all gracious.

you talk when she says you can.

“shut the fuck up,” abby damn near growled at you, the kind of tone she reserved for when she was really fucking angry. you had heard it many times before. when you were on a mission and battling scars. when issac reprimanded her for being careless in the field. when mel pissed her off one too many times.

bottom line, when shit didn’t go her way.

and the idea that she felt that way now both turned you on and scared the fuck out of you.

abby was quick to secure the strap’s harness to her waist. the view of the dildo attached to it always made your mouth fill with drool: black, veiny, seven and a half inches long. she’d made you cum with it so many times you lost count, and it was a million times better than the real thing.

especially when you had abby anderson on top of you, or behind you, or below you, encouraging you to take it like the good girl you were.

she grabbed your hips with fervor, forcing you to wrap your legs around her torso once your bottoms, and underwear, were out of her way. you let out a needy mewl as she slid the tip through your already wet folds, riling you up, just like that.

when your eyes closed as an answer, abby tutted, and moved one of her large hands down to grab you by the chin. “look at me,” she demanded.

and who the hell would you be to deny that?

your eyes were weak and needy as they met abby’s, pupils big with just a touch of fear, heart pounding in your ears. abby spoke firmly, and you could tell that she wasn’t playing around.

you had left fun and games behind the second you walked into this room.

“you’re gonna take this dick as much as i want you to, over and over again. n’ i’m gonna fuck you rough, ‘til you’re babbling out nonsense. do you hear me?”

your body felt paralyzed when those words left abby’s lips, her tone dripping in anger. you couldn’t manage much, and all you could do was nod. but she was not having that.

she squeezed down on your chin, which made you whimper out. “words.”

“y- yes, ma’am, i- i understand,” you weakly muttered out, and that seemed to suffice for her. abby let up on her grip, and her hand moved down from your chin to your lips.

“good. now suck.”

you didn’t delay. you opened your mouth for abby to push her fingers inside of it, index and ring beginning to fuck it. abby could feel your drool as she pumped the two fingers in and out of you, your tongue eagerly wrapping around them.

she doesn’t give a damn in the world as she pounds them to the back of your throat, making you gag, and your eyes close and roll back as she does so.

not for long.

“open your eyes. keep ‘em on me,” abby says in a rough tone, and you oblige a little too quickly. water’s already filling the corners of your eyes, and abby can see that when she looks at you.

and she’s barely begun.

“crying for me already, hm? why am i not surprised?” abby couldn’t help but mock you. you looked so feeble like this, choking on her fingers like the whore you were.

“i’d save your tears, honey. ‘cause there’s a lot more where this came from.”

just as you’re beginning to get used to the rough feeling of abby fucking your face with her fingers, she pulls them out, and you let out a small whimper of disapproval.

but it quickly blends into a moan.

her index and ring, the two fingers that you had just had your tongue around, that were soaked in your drool, pushed inside of you without so much as a warning.

“oh, f- fuck, abby,” you moaned as the suddenness of the moment took over your senses. your thighs clenched around her as she skillfully pumped her fingers in and out of your cunt, just as she had so many times in the past.

abby used her other hand to pry your thighs back open. “ah ah, baby. spread your legs for me.”

just when you figured this couldn’t get any more forceful, abby was pushing a third finger inside of you, her middle one, and using her thumb to rub your clit.

your response was way too fast as you grabbed one of abby’s broad shoulders, digging your fingernails into the freckled skin on it. you let out a loud moan as your eyes squeezed shut, letting it all sink in. three of abby’s fingers deep inside of you, pumping in and out of your wet pussy as she thumbed your clit like a fucking pro.

“fuckfuckfuck,” you groaned, and, god, did abby like that. barely begun with you, and you were already drunk off her touch.

but then again, that’s how it always went.

“look at you, fucking soaked for me. needy bitch,” abby degraded you mercilessly as she curled her fingers inside of you, easily hitting your g-spot.

“mmph, abby…” you could barely manage.

“hush,” she said harshly. your gaze moved up to hers as she fingered you, her usual pale blue eyes big, pupils enlarged. it was clear that she wasn’t letting up any time soon. “don’t talk unless i say you can.”

you didn’t.

abby had you soaking her fingers in your release soon enough, your orgasm spilling over you. she pulled her fingers out of you and moved them to her lips, leaving not even one drop behind as she sucked them dry. the view filled your abdomen with butterflies: that was for damn sure.

if this is how she made you feel with your fingers, you could hardly imagine her dick.

and abby didn’t delay. you didn’t get even a second to process before she was lining the tip of the silicone toy to your cunt, and pushing into you forcefully.

“abby, w- wait, fuck. t- too soon,” you whimpered, but you knew abby didn’t give a shit about what you had to say. she shushed you with her hand, putting her fingers past your lips once more.

“don’t care. you’re gonna take this cock like a good fucking girl,” she emphasized the word as she thrust into you hard. “and i don’t wanna hear shit. got that?”

you nodded, and didn’t try to speak again. you just did what abby wanted you to, sucking on her long fingers to keep you occupied while she pounded into your pussy.

“clara can’t fuck you this good, can she, baby?” abby rasped as each thrust grew more ravenous, both fingers pushing deeper.

so that’s what this was all about. well, really, you figured as much. you knew clara’s behavior would somehow bite you in the ass. but now that you had abby’s words to confirm it, you couldn’t be more sure.

you did what you could to shake your head, but let’s be real. it was abby fucking anderson. speechlessness was never an answer in her books. she took her fingers out of your mouth for the last time, eager to hear you talk now.

“say it.”

“n- no, abby. s’just you. s’only you,” your tongue slurred as the words left your lips, and abby couldn’t help but get off on the way you were speaking, a smug smirk on her face.

“mmhm. only i get to fuck this pretty pussy of yours, y’hear me?” abby let out in a grunt, her drool covered hand settling onto your neck, squeezing down. she was fucking you hard, no mercy as her hips thrust aggressively, pushing herself as deep inside of you as she could possibly go.

you were more than okay with that.

“y- yes, ma’am,” you let out a groan of your own as abby rutted her hips into you, eyes locked on hers. “i’m yours. a- all yours.”

you were a whining and whimpering mess as abby gave you a nod of approval, hand gripping your neck like it was her lifeline. “that’s a good whore. mine and no one else’s.”

“how do you think days like today make me feel, huh? fucking bitch with her hands all over you, gawking at you like you’re hers. well, let me tell you somethin’,” abby snarls. she pulls out of you, tip pressed to your folds, and for a moment, you think she’s going to make you beg for her to fuck you once more. but just like that, she’s slamming back inside, going, arguably, deeper than she had before.

“she doesn’t get to have you. no one’s ever gonna fuck you this good. no one’s ever gonna love you like i do. you’re all fucking mine, like it or not. got that?”

you’re not surprised by the aggression in her tone, but, damn, is she pissed. you can feel her anger seep into your skin as she fucks you like a toy, addresses you like a doll.

and you let her.

“m’sorry, abby, m’so sorry. i know i’m yours. i’m yours, swear to god i am. m’so sorry,” you moan dumbly as she squeezes your neck.

which you’re sure will have marks to show for it tomorrow.

“i know you are, baby,” abby rasps. her hand moves from her neck to your thigh now, and she digs her fingernails into it as she slams into you. “and you fucking should be.”

and again, abby has you cumming, her name rolling off your tongue like music as, this time, it’s her cock you soak in your release. “there you go, honey. know you like when i fuck this pussy like this. that’s it,” abby whispered.

your brain was way too foggy with the aggression of this session with your girlfriend to get your words out properly.

what was is it that abby had said about making you babble again?

“f- fuck, abby. oh, fuck,” you whined, body tired from receiving your second orgasm that evening. but abby was nowhere near done with you: both of you knew that.

abby didn’t speak as she pulled herself out of you, grabbing you by the hips and flipping your body over, so that you were no longer on your back. she forced you onto all fours, your ass poking up into the air. she yanks your bottoms fully off of you from behind, underwear following, and settles her hands onto your ass.

“abby, come on, please,” you all but cry out. you’re not sure how much you can take, not when it’s so sudden, anyway. abby’s anger is slowly going away, your caring girlfriend coming back little by little. but you weren’t quite there yet.

“you’ve got one more in you, baby, i know you do,” abby says softly, and she circles her thumbs over your ass. the move is almost loving.

“and you’re gonna take it, like the good slut you are. mkay?”

like you said. almost.

you grumble, but you can’t say no. not only did you not want to, but when it came to abby, that was one of the last things on your mind. probably. . .not a good idea. so, “mkay,” is what you say in response.

“good girl. can fuck you better like this, anyway,” abby hums. she begins to take your shirt off, and you lift your arms up to help her remove you tank top. and then, who’s surprised, she unhooks your bra with ease, discarding it on the floor somewhere.

the feeling’s familiar as abby pushes inside of your aching pussy once more. you’re sore and tired, brain fucked out from abby’s belligerence. but you need her, just as much as you need the very oxygen in your lungs.

and she needs you.

as if this isn’t enough, her arms move under yours, and squeeze each of your tits. it quickly reminds you of the way clara spotted you earlier, because that was one of the very things that had caused this in the first place.

but this felt so much better.

your eyes rolled back into your head as abby rubbed hard circles into your nipples, eager and needy to get you off for the third time in a row. she knew it wouldn’t be long now. each time she fucked you like this, round after round, your orgasms came in quick successions.

literally.

abby was pushing into your g-spot once again, and the feeling of it all was almost too much. if she wanted you to babble, then she got it: because there was no other way to describe the words spilling from your lips.

“a- abby, fuck, please don’t stop. you feel s- so good, f- fuck, please.” you weren’t making any sense by now, at least not to yourself. but abby knew what you wanted.

because she knew just how to please you.

“keep moaning, baby. you sound adorable,” abby chuckled as she fucked you, hips pushing deep into a spot you didn’t even know you had. “all cockdrunk off this dick, like the whore you are. my whore.”

she just had to add that. for good measure.

“tell me how much you like it. tell me how much you like it when i pound your pussy like this.”

you were licking your lips in the neediest way as she pressed her thumbs into your tits. you couldn’t help but push yourself back into her, that fucking needy for her. “i- i love it, abby. love it so much, fuck. you fuck me so good.”

abby moved one of her hands back from your tit and onto your ass, and gave you a small spank there. “fuck, yeah, i do. never gonna get it this good from anyone else, are you, baby? not clara, not any other bitch. just me, yeah?”

“mmph, mhm,” you murmured, and, fuck, were you on the brink. of course no one else could fuck you like this. no one could fuck like this period. some days, you wished the world could see just what abby anderson had to offer.

but that would involve a hell of a lot of sharing that you didn’t want to do.

“aw, i’m fucking you dumb, huh, baby? can’t even get a word out. dumb fucking slut,” abby smirked, slapping your ass one more time, then massaging the red mark with her thumb. “who do you belong to, hm?”

abby wasn’t wrong. your brain was fogged up, cloudy as she slammed into you from the back, and you couldn’t even see as your eyes rolled back into your head for the millionth time over. your words came out messy, drunken, incoherent. “i- i b—i’m—yours, i b- belong to—to you.”

you could feel your third orgasm bubbling up inside of you as abby pounded you from the back, and she had both hands on your tits once more, gripping both of them as she thumbed at your nipples. your face was hot, your lewd moans filling the room to the brim, as abby filled you.

“f- fuck, abby, don’t stop,” you whimpered out, and you had never sounded so broken before. “g- gonna cum.”

well, that much was obvious.

abby didn’t hold you back. she encouraged you with each thrust of her hips, every one increasing in speed with each second that passed by. she was a pro at this, and she knew it.

“that’s it, honey. cum on my cock, loud, like you mean it. wanna hear you scream for me,” she said with a small grunt, and she said it like it was a demand.

you obeyed.

you were yelling your girlfriend’s name as white spilled all over the silicone that was her dick, a series of pornographic moans falling from your swollen lips. your expression was just that, too: lewd, broken, because you had never been fucked like that in your life.

for the last time, abby pulled out of you, and unsecured the harness around her torso. once she put it to the side, she couldn’t help but put her fingers to your pussy for the last time, scooping a bit of your white release onto them. you shuddered as she did so, and looked behind you, just to see her suck her fingers off.

you lay limp on the bed as abby got up to grab a small towel. gingerly, she began to wipe your body clean, beginning with your thighs. she kissed up them as she did it, and it was so, so different to the way she had been manhandling you mere seconds beforehand.

that was abby for you.

once you were both clean, abby laid down beside you, and pulled you close to her body. she put her hands on your waist, and pressed a kiss to your forehead as you snuggled into her broad chest. you didn’t even feel awkward about the fact that you were the only one naked.

if abby didn’t care, then neither did you.

“you okay, baby? wasn’t too rough with you, was i?” abby asked, her thumb circling your cheek. you smiled up at her, a rush of butterflies soaring inside your abdomen at the small rasp in the way she cooed.

“no, abs. not at all. i mean, i always knew you got jealous, but—wow,” you couldn’t help your giggle.

abby feigned annoyance by giving you an eye roll, but you could tell that she was just being playful. besides, it’s not like she could deny the fact. so she smirked. “what can i say? you just have that effect on me. besides, you have to admit—clara was way too close for comfort.”

“mmhm,” you hum.

“but maybe that was a good thing.”

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

reblogs are very much welcomed <3

———

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womanpl3aser · 15 days

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"I guess you're finally showing your true colors..."

My true colors:

2K notes · View notes

womanpl3aser · 15 days

Text

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womanpl3aser · 16 days

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everybody knows that i am a good girl officer | | Po.f!abby x fem!reader

mndi!!, 18+, you'll find the rest while you're reading;) also usage of y/n 2 or 3 times.

wc: 1,4k

Enjoy! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It all started as a normal Tuesday, for you and all the people around the market that were in. Everybody seemed to be shopping, chit chatting, gossiping, laughing at something you couldnt quite catch buuuuut there you were, looking around for the last ingredient you needed for the dinner you'd be making later tonight.

You thought to urself "where the fuck could they put some fucking sauce." you sighed in defeat and went to a nearby woman who worked there and asked her "excuse me ma'am do you know where's that sauce that had a swan outside its can?" "it's at section 2, you should find it mixed with the poultry" she'd answer to you bitting on some donut walking off?? like excuse me miss you're there to help the customers. what a bitch you thought to urself, "thank you!'' you exclaimed with some sarcasm at the end. You were sure she didn't hear it, "okay now who the fuck puts some sauce mixed with these poultry shits" you said under your breathe cause god damn. Your shopping didn't even take 10 minutes and last time you checked your phone it was 11:36 and now it was 11:59.

Fuck you muttered to yourself. After searching for that fricking sauce you finally found it. You immediately grabbed it and threw it into your cart and rushed to pay. you were waiting in line until..

a woman barged in the market yelling while wearing no sandals or whatsoever shoes u guessed and looked.. off. Nobody commented on that neither her appearance just had some judgemental stares. You also brushed it off cause it was literally none of your business nonetheless just as you were about to pay with cash, a worker who curiously walked past her saw her holding a revolver?.. at least that's what you heard with all the panic breaking out in mere seconds.

EVERYBODY GET OUT OF THE STORE! ooh shit. the popo squad must've been called or they just tracked her you thought as you were rushing to get out of the store with your groceries(probably half of them). An officer yelled while charging at the woman aiming at her weapon. Another officer escorted the other officer who had managed to tackle the threat down and kick off the gun of the woman's hands. GET ON YOUR KNEES NOW. the woman said after punching her back for resisting her. STOP FUCKING RESISTING WOMAN after several kicks and hits and punches the woman finally stopped moving around and complied to be cooperative because it would get her nowhere, just charged with more felonies and she didn't want that did she?

You were watching with a mind full of "what just happened or when did all of this happen" while you had your bags in your hands ready to get into your vehicle to go home. But just as you were to step your foot into your car trying to leave the scene and forget about what just happened youd force yourself to forget about what had happened earlier to be fair, an officer calls you out.

HEY, MISS YES YOU COULD YOU PLEASE COME HERE? she yelled because you both had a pretty average distance "oh yes of course" you answered. Great now why would she want to talk to you thoughts started to gather around your mind was it something you possibly did in the market, maybe they found out about your attitude towards the worker in the store?(but to be fair they fucking deserved that) you were thinking of all that as you were walking towards the direction she was with your head down the pavement too scared to look up as if something horrible would happen to you.

Ma'am first of all are you okay? did you get harmed in the process of all this? was the first thing that came out of the officers mouth and you got kind of relieved, you were so glad it wasn't about something you did "y-yeah of course just a little bit shocked about what had just occurred some minutes ago" you painfully laughed with some tremor in your voice. You don't have to be scared, everything is well taken care of and is on our hands.. maybe I ask you some questions? you silently mumbled a "fuck me" that didn't go unnoticed by the officer but decided to brush it off and went on with a "sure!" still while looking down. "Ah.. alright then but you gotta look at me 'kay? now." the officer demanded you do so. You finally got the courage to look the woman in the eyes but instead of fear to overcome you, you were met with some blue ocean eyes, honey blonde strands that had fallen off her tight braid while she was trying to pin the woman on the ground and some tight ass dark green cargos that hugged her thights so so deliciously.. and not to talk about her turtle neck black shirt with her armor and a bunch of stuff thay kissed her biceps exactly how u had imagined..

"Ma'am? ma'am are you still with me? I'm talking to you. Eyes on mine." She spoke to you snapping you out of your imagination "Uh uh yeah I'm here I'm sorry" you apologized pathetically and she smirked.. oh boy. "Its fine angel" your cheeks turned crimson red who also didnt go unnoticed by her well trained eyes and just like that her cocky usual attitude had switched to something you couldn't actually figure out. "Since you were in the store I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me, got it sugar? if not there will be charges pressed against you" she'd say "umm yeah ask me anything, I promise I will not lie to you officer" "glad you're one of these people who listen to my commands, I like that." You'd nod your head not breaking eye contact with her because who were you infront of this tall ass hot as fuck woman? "Since you were in the store, what kind of gun did she hold?" She'd take her notes out and start putting down whatever came out of your mouth.

10 minutes had passed and you were almost done with your interrogation

" 'N lastly why is a pretty woman like you doing here?" She'd ask "j-just some shopping you'd mutter" "Speak up baby cause I cannot hear you" she'd say firmly yet flirty to you. And oh boy you did not answer because of how fucking flustered and wet you were getting and thats when she saw red. Yes, red. she was short tempered if you didn't already notice "fucking ANSWER ME"

she'd raise her voice slightly but not loud enough to draw attention from by passers "i-im sorry officer I'll be good, i didn't mean to offend you in every way i-I promise y-you'' "I-i y-you, shut up and get yourself together baby or should I teach you a lesson?" she'd smirk to herself and slightly giggle. Apparently.. you were a goner. like an actual goner your brain couldn't function properly anymore, it was all filled with wanting some friction from her. "I'll be a good girl officer" You'd nudge her with your hand as a sign of intimidation and just as you both pressed lips and almost got dragged into her police car's backseat to absolutely fucking ruin you a shot was fired. She stroke up from her current position and looked at the sight of her colleagues and that's when she'd realized a mate of hers got shot "OH FUCK, ILL BE BACK REAL SOON OKAY?" She'd reassured you and sprinted towards her hurt inmate just leaving you there with your thoughts coming back "damn I didn't even get her name.." You'd complain to yourself.

30 minutes had passed.

And she finally came back to where she had previously left you "Hey sweetheart, I'm sorry for leaving you here all alone but it was my duty to go check him out" she'd kiss your forehead like it was nothing taking some steps towards you. You'd flush again as a loser and assure her that it was okay and that she needn't have to be apologetic towards you "Oh and by the way my name is Abby but you can call me as abigail or abs as a short cut" "Mines Y/n" "such a pretty name for such pretty girl" she'd slightly push herself on you. You'd smile at her grabbing her waist "oou getting touchy already y/n huh?, you wanna resume whatever we were about to do before?" She'd say a step back from gropping your fucking ass devouring you alive, you were driving her fucking crazy "Yes please, I'd love that abigail" and oh well she went feral after the way she heard her name rolling off your tongue like honey.

Aaaaand lets say that you were limping and couldn't walk straight after her 7 inch strap that got buried into you for fucking hours.

HEY YALL IM SORRY THIS WAS RUSHED. I GOT INSPIRED BY A VIDEO OF A COP THAT HAD ABBYS BUILD. I STARTED WRITING THIS AT 5:30 AM AND I FINISHED AT 7:14 AM SO EXCUSE ME FOR ANY MINOR OR GRAMMAR MISTAKES. THANK YOU!! also it isn't proofread.

#abby x reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby anderson smut #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby the last of us

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womanpl3aser · 16 days

Note

how do u feel about…..

bitchy abby fixing up a small cut on ur thigh, only to look between ur legs and see that ur soaked? :3

love ur writing 🙏🙏🙏

this really is more fluffy then smutty i’m sorry gang

cw: reader cuts herself when shaving, blood mention, abby kisses over the panties

“ouch..” you whisper, perching yourself up on sink in your’s and abby’s shared bathroom. spreading your legs a little, you look down at the trickling blood streaming down your thigh, quickly wiping it with a wet wipe.

“ouch! fuck..” you whine, abby’s ears basically perking up at the sound of your pain.

“what’s wrong? oh..what did you do?” abby says, leaning against the doorframe, her signature smirk plastered on her face.

“nothing, abs. just cut myself while i was shaving and didn’t notice until just now,” you laugh, holding the wipe on the cut. abby walks over, replacing your hand with hers. she rolls her eyes, cleaning your wound so nicely.

“be more careful next time,” you nod, her words coming out bitterly, but from a loving place nonetheless. the cut is just below your pantyline and abby spreads your legs more, slotting herself between them. she bends down at her knees, placing kisses up your thigh. she stops just below your cut.

your breath hitches, inhaling sharply as you feel her warm breath hit your wetness you didn’t even realise was there.

“i’m not even doing anything, baby. you’re soaked,” abby scoffs, shaking her head before placing a kiss on your clothed clit. you feel your cheeks heat up and your eyebrows furrow as she pulls away. she opens the cupboard and pulls out a first aid kit, patching you up correctly.

“thank you, abs,” you smile down at her as she places a kiss on your plaster, standing back up. abby places her lips on your forehead, holding your hips to help you down from the sink. “don’t cut yourself next time, dipshit,” she laughs, messing your hair up as she walks away.

taglist @queenofmistresses @bambishaven @abigails-gf @drunkelliewilliams @aouiaa @dykeanderson @abbysprettygiiirl @toasthatervee @lesbian-useless @marsworlddd

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womanpl3aser · 17 days

Text

‘STRAWBERRY KISSES’

sub/top!a. anderson x dom/bottom!reader

cw: tribbing, ejaculating strapon (r. receiving), breeding kink, squirting, dove fucking, scent kink, r. is a parent, standing oral, slight impact play/face slapping (a. receiving), asphyxiation, lactation

MINORS DNI

summary: “real cowgirls ride pussy” and that’s exactly what abby did. who would’ve thought a respected farmer could be a pathetic slut? muscly, big and strong, all to be treated like a fucktoy under your hands.

a/n: this fic is by far one of the most lackluster fics ive probably written. it’s not that great in my opinion and i feel as though it ran in circles… i had been hesitant to post this for some time and had no clue how to end it so it’s a bit abrupt. this fic is almost just pure smut… really long and i over did it just a tad… id also like to apologize… it’s probably so all over the place… it’s been a long while since ive written anything and i don’t think this fic is as great as i tried to make it. nonetheless, i hope you end up enjoying.

that pretty girl abby in her cowboy hat, in those tight blue jeans that hugged her thighs just right, muscles bulging from its fabric and a rusted silver big buckled belt with roses carved into its metal, stood in front of your doorstep. the tap of her heel at your wooden porch with a smile that wore prettily across her lips, crate in hand full of fresh produce hand grown by her. corn, strawberries, apricots and tomatoes, all plump and in season. it was a surprise being greeted by her on your second day moving in. yeah there were others from the town who said their hi’s and goodbyes, some with buttered biscuits or a fresh lemon moraine pie that hadn’t been that well made came to welcome you too, but with her, it was different.

it wasn’t often to see a woman of her stature walking around the city you used to live in— she was built, big and broad, back confidently raised tall in a shirt that ripped at its sleeves showing every vein that ran up her toned freckled, sun kissed arms. on days you’d see her riding horses, galloping as her golden braid fluttered in the thick summer air or even a lasso in hand, things that you saw in movies that you hadn’t even thought twice about. she looked strong and able, independent, attractive, and alluring— even by the sound of her voice contrasting from her strong appearance with a gentle twang in every syllable she spoke.

you were used to the bright neon lights in the night’s city, honking horns and prolonged profanity being thrown back and forth outside of your window to now be surrounded by haybells, horses, clucking chickens and a sun that only ever burned down as if it had been summer year round. the switch was a culture shock and all the country side folk made you feel like you had been living here for years— smiling faces, waves as you rode up into your dirt driveway, seeing all the cows in the distance chewing on the brightest grass you possibly ever saw.

it was nice. through the few months you’ve lived here and growing more accustomed, you made a couple friends along the way. with their boasting charm and positive attitude, you were almost always involved in anything the town had gathered, like being invited to little events in the town— learning the ways of how the people tended their fun; good tasting beer, games and activities you never thought existed or took the time to take part in, like corn bathing or horse shoe throwing. socializing with other mother’s, talking about the shared stress you all experienced or new recipes that you ended up trying to make. even still, you felt a bit out of place at times. your clothes never matching with the attire the others had or their lingo being hard to comprehend, yet the cute accents they spewed whenever they spoke made you giggle warmly. they didn’t seem to mind when you’d ask what they meant when it came to the slang, catching on and using ‘y’all’ as a part of your daily speech. you’d let your kid play amongst other’s their age, finding solace in the open spaces they were able to roam and waddle through— seeing them come home with grass scuffs at the knees of their pants and dirtied palms.

not being too far from abby’s domain, she was well known in the town— inheriting her family’s farm and business as a full time farm worker, handing in fresh fruits, vegetables and cows milk to the monthly market. the anderson’s— you saw it etched in a wooden sign not too far from where you stayed, seeing a red wooden barn out in the distance beside a big pretty white house. she was a woman of business, hands gripping any tool with a grunt that echoed in the air as she puts herself to work.

the day before your initial move in, she saw you and the group of movers helping you gather all the furniture inside with your white summer dress that held against your womanly rounded frame, all frustrated in the face for how hot it had been. she smiled to herself, not seeing many people like you around here. city living people that is. it was adorable. a pretty thing like you didn’t belong in a place like this. filled with dirt and cattle and a body language that didn’t match up to the people that made up of this town— them wearing nothing but flannels and dirtied jeans. the women reeking of cigarettes as the men smelt like cigars all while spitting out peach pits and sunflower seeds.

it was already tradition to grant a new neighbor a gift when they first arrived— nicknacks and baked goods, books, canned food or peanuts. since abby was already getting produce to give to the market in the morning, it was best to give you a taste of what she was good at, wanting to get a real good look at you up close— hear how you talk, admire your body as you moved and see how you’d react to a gesture as big as a big crate of fresh home grown goods. it met all her expectations, seeing the beauty you held within your stare and the exotic nature of your frame, watching your eyes grow wide, replacing that tired and worn expression with a heartfelt one.

thick, sweet and velvety— she told you her name with a curl at the corner of her rose colored lips, tilting the tip of her cowboy hat. her golden hair tied into a tight braid that laid against her freckled shoulder and a hand clasping at her buckle. “it’s nice’ta see a new face round here.” she smiled triumphantly with her eyes gleaming with satisfaction, glazing over you as you held the crate that was once in her hands.

“i couldn’t take all of this.” you scoffed in amazement, noticing how there was not a dimple or bruise in sight on any of the produce.

“there’s not a pot too crooked that a lid won’t fit, hon.” she laughed, “it’s a welcomin’ gift. it’s my job to grow all this, don’t want it’ta go all to waste.” noticing how her accent slipped so elegantly as she spoke.

the image of her rested in your mind the entire day, placing all what she gave you in its respectable place, using some for the night’s dinner. it came out rich, juicy and complimented the meat you had made to go alongside it— feeling yourself moan with each bite as your lips drag over the silver of your fork. never have you have something that tasted so good. back home in grocery stores, you were so used to the over produced fruits and vegetables that you never got to taste what produce was really supposed to taste like.

as the days continue and you gave her your millionth thanks for her gift. she replaced her ‘you’re welcome’ with her presence— always being near when she wasn’t busy, coming whenever you needed help. if you needed someone to lift something heavy, there she was, if you needed something from the market, she’d tell you she was already on her way, if you needed help watching your kid, she was right there. no matter if she had been working all day in the sun— wearing sweat like a compressed shirt, coating her arms and face until it dripped from the underside of her chin, and dirt that seeped itself in the thick of her pants as if it had been bought that way— she was right there and that alone attracted you. she had an alluring personality with an even more charming presence that couldn’t go unnoticed, showing you around the town, or showing your kid to her barn, letting them see all the farm animals— petting the cows and horses, feeding the chickens, watching the pigs as they roll around in the mud— or even let them run down in her field. you presented them with freshly squeezed lemon juice and sandwiches as you watched from afar, staring in awe, not understanding how someone can be so genuine with their kindness.

you couldn’t lie, the view of her working was nice. your excuse to be near her was just as good as hers, making it a ritual to pass by when going to the market right around the time you knew she’d be out in the field. you’d catch her in her sports bar, getting a hold of the way her arms and back muscles flexed with the elastic of her boxer briefs peaking out from her pants— a thin line of hair following up to her belly button and freckles that scattered all over her arms and chest.

being the socialite she was, beer in hand with women flocking to her like fruit on flies, she’d laugh having them hang off her arms, fleeting eyes, talking about how impressed they were during the horse race that you unfortunately hadn’t been able to see. there was a slight film of jealousy that ran through your body, understanding why those women gave her attention but after all the days you’ve gotten to know her and the way she’d help you or even talk to you, you’ve grown a liking towards her.

abby could say the same. you hadn’t noticed when other farm workers placed their interests, seeing you as a fine piece of butchered meat, pristine and cut and hung in the most favorable way.

she didn’t want that. she wanted you all to yourself, adoring the relief on your face whenever she had a task done or the way you’d laugh after saying a joke or two, doing the usual head tilt when she left, eyes bouncing from your face until it lined all the way down your body. sneaking a hand at the side of your waist while passing by, inhaling the sweet spritz of your perfume that you wore or the sight of your ass in your jeans, finger in its pants loop, slighting jumping as you fixed them. nothing could top getting a tease of your panties whenever you bent down— that you may or may not’ve done on purpose— while wearing a dress. riling her up seeing the numerous pairs you wore, making the innards of her legs moisten and her heart race, keeping a visual memory of the blue lace you once wore or the lilac pair she last seen in the hamper in your downstairs bathroom that she shamelessly took.

it was memento. an unspoken thank you given by you, taken into her care. laid in her bed, she sprawled herself against her mattress, seeing the embroidered shapes in its cloth, remembering how it’d spread and cupped your ass. keeping in memory how you sheepishly pulled down at the dress’s fabric like you hadn’t known that you teased her with a beautiful, lustrous sight. she couldn’t help herself— you invited her in— trying to keep her indulgences tame each time she got a glimpse of your panties or the way your breasts sat in any shirt that you wore. she thought about your thighs and how they pressed together as you stood or whenever you sat down and how they expanded, thinking of whenever you were aroused and the mess you’d make in your panties and if they’d bunch at your folds or maybe even at your ass.

she’d take the panties to her nose, taking in your scent while rolling her fingers at her clit— pressing it against her lips and soaking them with her spit as she tried so desperately to let your taste linger. sopping wet, she’d let it bunch as she rubbed herself with it on her clit, grunting moans filtering her bedroom while her eyes closed themselves to remember the image of you— the simplicity in the way your tight shirt lifted and the skin that peaked just above your jeans, or even the way your jeans rolled at the folds of your hips. she’d hump the air, feet planted on her mattress as she pressed your panties roughly at her pussy.

and to think it all started off with a small hi and crate, inviting her to taste your sandwiches and apple pies, coming every few weeks or so, to her coming every week then almost every day— making it harder and harder to resist you and the need to be beneath your skin. to touch you, knead you, hear how you’d sound. now all that crowded her vision was her fucking you— digging her fingers into one of your dresses and tearing it off your body just to see how your panties really looked on you and how’d they’d look off. each breath painted the picture with the help of her entering your bedroom, keeping that in thought after you had asked for help to move your dresser. she thought about your body against hers, hand pressed down in the center of your shoulder blades, hips rolling deeply into you that had been hugged by her harness.

“you’re so nice.” you’d always tell her, sighing out a pleasant sigh whenever you got the chance.

“of course sugar.” she sang, her voice lustful and bright, “always nice to give a little, specially when a pretty woman is in need.”

“oh hush.” you laughed playfully while she leaned up against your doorframe— suspenders at the sides of her hips, hair undone from its braid and a hand tucked in the back of her pocket.

“it’s true. i don’t mind when’ya ask me of things, miss. i like helpin’ out. you’re so hardworkin’ and such’a good mama… the way you cook too? my god, it’s delicious.”

the sun rested against her frame like a glowing halo, taking the time to notice all the good deeds this woman has given you. no other has been this kind or dependable, being active in your child’s life as well as still have time to do all that needed to be done to maintain their business. it amazed you as well as excite you, coming to realization that abby’s eyes weren’t just kind but perverted. you had met your match.

every glance felt like she was studying you— the dark pools in her eyes expanded as the blue ring that surrounded, disappeared. they penetrated deep within your body, coddling your flesh like her plaything. feeling like a bee sting as her pupils prickled down your body. each time her tongue ran against the many cracks of her bottom lip, it was as if you could feel its flat bed roughly roll against your breasts, teeth grazing against your perked nipples with the subtle touches of her calloused hands sending shivers down your spine and towards your clit.

“i like to give back to deserving people.” you reply, your voice switching to an evident teasing tone that struck at her confidence, making her gather herself as she cleared her throat.

“there’s no need for that.” she smiled, her head lowering as the heel of her boot turned at your welcoming mat, “just cause i help ya out, don’t mean you have’ta physically give me anythin’ back. quality time is good’a nough for me.”

“is that so?” you chirped, hand now at your hip, letting the quiet ambiance of the distant bird chirp fill the comforting silence, “if that’s case, come back tomorrow, im going to make more strawberry tarts, you seemed to like those last time i made them. they’ll be in school tomorrow, so itll just be us if you don’t mind. we can have more ‘quality time’.”

“oh?” she smiled, biting down at her bottom lip, trying to hide the excitement that rose in the center of her chest, “yes… yes ma’am, i mean, i dont mind at all…us. i mean, it just being us… tomorrow. yeah… tomorrow then.” her well known confident demeanor demolished with you noticing her struggle to let out her words.

cute.

•••

morning approached, the blue sky and yellow sun swelling through the windowpanes as the sweet smell of strawberries filled the aroma. twenty minutes to nine, abby’s knuckle was in meet with the front of your door. there was nothing wrong with being a little early, she thought— unless there was a chance she could’ve been too early or maybe seen as too desperate?

she laid restless in her bed the night before trying to think of the many reasons as to why you had asked her to come over. yeah, you did say you were baking tarts and you wanted quality time but what did that entail? it wasn’t as if you and her had much alone time since your kid was either present or in the house alongside you both. it seemed odd, taste testing tarts without her doing the usual tasks you’d ask her to do. seemed too good to be true.

yet she was excited nonetheless, expecting nothing but positive due to how cheerful you always seemed around her. bashful stares and a warm conversation, it flowed nicely. just as nice as the pasta you made that last tuesday, the sauce being thick and not too runny and aged grated cheese to go on top of well boiled penne pasta.

smelling of cologne, she dressed all nice in her thick blue jean jacket— a yellow patch woven into the shoulder— and another one of her hats that was a warm tan that looked soft to the touch. her hair in its usual braid seeing how every strand had its own shade of blonde with two stands that flowed softly against her freckled face. “wow.” she sighed, eyeing the black dress you ended up wearing that she hadn’t seen before. it clasped at your hip dips, with the imprint of your stomach showing so cutely at its fabric— she wished she could touch. it was short, stopping mid-thigh and with each time you walked, you’d have to tug at its bottom as it rose and rippled at your waist. cut at its collar so your cleavage was on full display, wearing one of your bras that gave them more of a push. “hi…there.” she smiled, tipping the side of her hat like she had always done before. “you sure clean up real nice… shit.”

“why thank you, so do you.” you replied, making it evident that you adored her attire with the way your eyes glazed against her boxy frame. “you’re early.” your hand holding the side of the door, noticing the nervousness abby wore in the tone of her voice. it was cute, even cuter with how she looked like she tried so hard to look good for you— the scent of her so welcoming and her so neatly dressed.

“oh! m’ sorry, if’ya need me to come back later, i definitely would. just thought that… ya’ know… i didn’t think it would be much of a-“

“no… no.” you interrupted with a laugh, “you’re so cute. it’s alright. come inside, the tarts are almost done anyways.”

your house was warm and quiet, free of the nursery rhymes that usually played on the living room tv. there were no toys scattered about and alongside the sweet smell of the baking tarts was a slight film of cleaning products. it was gentle, the ambience of the morning’s music filling your ears as you hum a lulling tune. strawberries and sugar entering the airwaves with nice conversations being made, clock ticking moving closer to the tarts being done and ready to be tasted.

she sat down on the stool of your kitchen’s island, mouth watering at the sight of the tarts as they had been placed on a plate and set on the countertop. “now… tell me if these are good. i tried doing them a little different. the neighbor down the way said it’s best if i don’t use to much sugar so you’d able to taste more of the strawberries. unless you have a sweet tooth, i can make more with more sugar.” you chirped, wiping your hands at the apron that had been tied at your waist you ended taking off and placing it on a hook in your kitchen.

taking one, abby didn’t hesitate to eat, humming a pleased hum as she nodded her head, eyebrows furrowing. “this is real good.” she said, mouth full of the tart, licking the tips of her fingers, “i don’t usually eat tarts, but if i were’a professional, id give it’a A+.”

“aren’t you just a charmer, abby.”

she smiled at the compliment. abby was a natural flirt, everyone knew this. she talked to women like it was a sport without even realizing her intentions. it didn’t help that her voice alone was seductive, supple and flowy by default. it didn’t take long for you to take interest in it after the first few moments of speaking to her— not caring about accents until you heard hers. each word was like a melody, needing to have it played beside your nightstand on your bed.

“well…” she hummed taking another bite, wiping the side of her mouth with her thumb, “a woman who knows how’ta bake is a dangerous lil thing.”

you laughed, “a dangerous ‘little thing’.” you repeated lowly, admiring the way she indulged your food, hearing her muffled chatter. “and why is that?”

“you never heard the sayin’?” grabbing another tart, “the one bout’a happy belly?”

rolling your eyes, you start to put all the leftover ingredients back where they belonged, rag in hand and wiping the left over sugar and flour that sprinkled on top of the counters, “so you’re saying i make good food?”

“don’t be silly. of course, miss. im sayin’ more than that. fuck, if id’a known you were this talented, i would’a invited myself for dinner every night if you’d let me.” she replied honestly, her voice coming out softer before drinking the glass of water you left beside the tart’s plate. “a nice dinner… and dessert.”

“in that case, the offer is on the table.” turning to face her seeing her politely wipe her mouth. “you’re usually present during the lunch i make.”

“how could i not? you make’a mean sandwich and dont get me started on that one time you made— oh uhm miss…you got’a little…” pointing at your breast, a small wet patch being shown. you had leaked. it happened pretty often and youd always get so embarrassed every single time. it’d happen in the most random moments and especially in public. there was nothing satisfying about having a wet shirt as you roamed through the grocery store or even in the past when having dinner dates with online meetups your friends swore worked— everyone would make notice with them seeming just as embarrassed as you were, but you just groaned. shamelessly trying to look sexy for abby all to be leaking through right as she arrived.

“fuck, why now?” your fingers running along the wet patch as if magically it would disappear. “im sorry… this always happens when i don’t want it to.”

“oh!” abby swallowed, her eyes widening as she shook her hands, “no, no! it’s nothin’ you got’a be embarrassed about… it happens, sweetheart.” she spoke with her voice trembling like in any way she made the situation worse yet she hadn’t. looking at her, you noticed how frequently she blushed and how easy it was for her to get flustered. your mind spoke loudly to you as you thought of the many ways to make her puddle at your feet— it was what you deserved anyway. a single mother that hadn’t been given this type of attention since before you knew you were pregnant, having nothing but lack luster sexual encounters that didn’t even grant you a good enough orgasm. just from her reactions alone made your body tingle— this big, buff woman acting all shy in front of you. trying to be so kind and respectful with her use of ‘miss’ and ‘ma’am’.

“you see stuff like this a lot?” you tease, taking a towel to continuously wipe at the fabric you knew wouldn’t dry but you tried nonetheless.

abby chuckled, her warm tongue rolling at the bottom of her pouted lip. there shouldn’t be anything alluring about seeing you leak through your dress, but to her, her perverted mind thought quicker and her body felt itself wash with a film of arousal. “no… its my first time actually. but i dont see why it’d be much of an issue.”

looking up, you notice her eyes and how she obliviously stared at the stain on your breasts. “you think so?” rolling your tongue in the inner of your cheek, you chuckle quietly as you hummed. “in that case…would you like a taste?”

abby choked on her spit, her eyes widening, getting a better sight of the blue and her growing pupils. the question was abrupt and she had no way to prepare how she could react. “taste…? im… m’ sorry miss… i dont think’a understand.”

“yeah, taste. haven’t you ever wondered what it tasted like? ive tried it. it’s a bit sweet, maybe even sweeter than those tarts.” your hands cupping at your full breasts, squeezing lightly as you felt yourself continue to leak from your nipples— the wet patch expanding. abby couldn’t do anything but sit there, hypnotized with how they oozed from it’s collar and the way you let yourself mess up more of your dress. “seems like you like it. does the sight of leaking and the thought of tasting me get you all hot and bothered?”

“you fuck’n tease…” she chuckled, enjoying the way you spoke to her. every woman she encountered had never dared to speak to her that way. seeing her as nothing but a woman of control rather than someone who could be controlled— take her as she is and put her in her place, knowing all what to say, what do do and how it should be done. abby hadn’t thought about it to know if that’s something she’d enjoy. but now, with the view of your hands fondling your breasts and the slow whispers that hummed in the air, asking her questions that you both knew what the answer would be made her more wet than she thought she could get, “you ain’t gotta ask… you’re a fine woman… how can i not?”

“oh am i?” you hummed, “i just like the way you react to me.”

“and, how do i react to you?” abby’s voice entranced by you and whatever move you made.

“well… when i compliment your work ethic… telling you how hard it must be, how draining… yet a strong woman like you? it must be easy for you, yeah? all the poor weak men who try to do what you do look like amateurs. but you, miss abigail anderson, you look so determined and sexy… fuck, how sweaty you get and how… your body… flexes… makes me want to let you take me right there on that dirty field and fuck me.” never leaving her eyes, your finger drags along the countertop of the island that separated you both, one foot in front of the other, making your way towards her slowly. she felt herself burn with anticipation, her golden glow washing a faint red at her nose, cheeks and the tips of her ears. frantic, her hands clutching at her buckle, then fixing her hat to pressing it’s palms down at her jeans to clean its sweat. “it’s odd.. ive been missing a few pairs of my underwear… do you think you know who’d take them? i mean… who would…?” you laughed sweetly, as you let your face lean closer towards abby who couldn’t even sit still in her chair— chest heaving, lips wet from the constant licking. “buuut, i think i have a pretty clear idea who could’ve took them. you thought you were so slick, but how could i not see a pair of purple panties poking through your pocket. tell me abby, what did you use it for?”

“m’sorry… i wasn’t thinkin’ they were just right there and i…”

“shhh no need for all that pretty girl.” you stood in front of her— seeing how her muscles craved through her jean jacket, and her hat slightly tilted down, unable to look at you, looking every which way as she felt her heart jolt with excitement. it wasn’t usual for her to act this way— get all nervous and tongue tied. your shamelessness got the best of her. it was abrupt, teasing and erotic, feeling her body burn with an intense desire to finally place those imaginations to reality.

you slid your finger at the underside of her chin, pressing your thumb just below her bottom lip. “look at me.” your voice in a hushed tone, lifting her face towards yours. she exhaled deeply, lips parting as if she was going to speak, but nothing followed.

“that’s it pretty girl… look at mommy… need to be able to see those pretty blue eyes.”

“shut your fuck’n mouth…” abby breathed with a smile forming on her lips, letting the word mommy wrap itself around her throbbing clit, rolling her hips down in the stool where she sat.

“why so snappy?” you coo teasingly, removing your hand from her face, placing both on top of hers that had been clasped against her jeans, slowly raising them until they were pressed at your breasts. “you’re the one stealing my panties… and your hips, they’re moving. my words are getting to you, aren’t they? i don’t think you really want me to.” you continued, abby’s eyes obedient as she watched the way yours study her body. her fingers mindlessly curling as she felt the softness of your breasts push in between every spaced out finger while feeling the roughness of her calloused palm. letting out a pleasured sigh, you ran your hands down the backs of her knuckles, then her wrists and her muscled forearms.

“miss…” she breathed, her clit vigorously thumping against the fabric of her briefs. the gentleness of your voice and breasts made her sink deeper into the stool, hands groping them tighter and harder, “you’re so fuckin’ sexy… keep talkin’ to me like that…”

“yeah, you like that? that’s it… you’re such a good girl aren’t you?” you tease, breaking the swelling silence that filled in between your shared gasps. “i see the way you’ve been looking at me… the way you talk to me. where’s all that confidence now, hm?”no response was given. it was as if this was the very first time abby had been left speechless.

“speak.” you demanded, quickly letting go of one arm to grip her jaw roughly, yanking her slightly closer as you bent down towards her face, “…speak.” you repeated, this time softly, lips just inches away from hers— letting yourself hover with gasps ghosting her lips, hearing a whimper fall from her own.

“shit.. you just make me nervous, miss… i can’t help ma’self… you’re just pretty as a picture.” she admitted, letting out a breath of shaky laughter. you stood up again, her blinking frantically thinking that you were going to kiss her, but you didn’t. not now at least. she let herself look down at your breasts to see them spilling from your black dress— your areolas peaking from the lace bra. “lord have mercy on me…” her eyebrows furrowed, gulping down harshly as she bit the bottom of her lip.

she was in trance with you, the way your body moved and molded even when she fondled with your breasts. her grip grew stronger, feeling the roughness in the prod of her fingers and feeling the wetness of your dress stick against her hands. “you want it, don’t you big girl?” you teased, “i know you’d know how to handle me… how to fuck me. show me abigail. let me see how a pretty woman like you can ruin me.”

a hand quickly pressed at the small of your back, pulling your body in between her legs as her lips latched onto your neck, her hat falling down onto the floor at the push of her forehead that tattooed the side of your jaw. open mouthed kisses running along its side and down to your collar bone letting her tongue run along your skin until her lips felt yours.

the intensity of her lips was strong and full, inhaling them into her mouth with you both trying to take lead. opened mouthed and husky breaths hugging one another’s tongues as your hand wraps itself at the back of her head. lips glistening as spit rolled down the sides of your mouths, chin and neck. she ran her tongue underneath yours before wrapping her lips around it’s muscles, suckling on it with a bobbing head.

pulling back to catch your breath, a smile crept on your lips, “open your fucking mouth..” you snarled playfully— her mouth ajar as you gathered spit and letting it fall at her tongue.

“ya’taste so good…” she couldn’t handle the absence of your mouth as she drank your spit, pushing you into her face as you study yourself back into the kiss. her thick muscle would roam inside of your mouth, spit bubbling and running from its sides, latching her lips and sucking up any that left.

her lips trailed down, fingers curling at the collar of your dress to yank its fabric down and hook it underneath your breasts, with the help of you unclipping your bra. now in her sight was your swollen nipples, wet and dripping and in need of release. she placed you inside of her mouth, hollowing her cheeks as she felt your warm milk rush in the center of her tongue. eyes rolling back as she swallowed, your breasts being pushed into her face and nose while kneading them together as she sucked.

the taste of you was addictive, loving the watery yet thick texture you let out and how it felt as she swallowed it. leaning her head back, tugging at your nipple, she releases her latch, watching the way your breasts move so obnoxiously, “fuck you taste so good… can’t stop sayin’ that…” she exhaled, “and… and you’re just so goddamn hot i-“

she pushed your breasts together rougher, seeing the light sprinkle squirt out from your nipples, “i could cum just drinkin’ you…” sticking her tongue out as she aimed it into her mouth. it got all on the sides of her lips, the tip of her nose and chin, messing herself up and letting it fall down onto her lap. hurriedly she leaned back in, sucking on the other. each suck harder than the last, letting you fill her mouth, savoring it with every two to three sucks before she swallowed it all.

watching the way she seemed so desperate for more, the way her cheeks hollowed and expanded and her nasally inhales filled your ears with bliss as well as her velvety moans that vibrated and directed itself at your sore, sensitive nipples. your hand pressed at the back of her head, pushing her in closer, adoring the way her head bobbed as she sucked.

“oh you’re so cute… look at you, so fucking desperate for me.” you cooed, letting out a pleased laugh— her immediately feeling embarrassment wash over her entire being but her being able to finally taste you, feel you, indulge you was far more stronger. the look in her eyes were as if she was in need of you and only you, taking in every vowel you spoke, letting it cradle her clit. your soft thighs encapsulating the heat she exuded from her jeans, letting your knee touch right at her crotch. “you’re such a good girl… drinking from me. you like it don’t you?” you wince pleasantly, loving the sting of her harsh sucks at your irritated and hardened nipples.

nodding she removed her lips, running her tongue along the rim of her mouth when any of your milk started fell down her chin. “don’t tease me like that… won’t be able’ta control myself.”

“mm, yeah? keep sucking and show me how you’d lose yourself to me.” you demanded and she listened. the feeling of her sucks drove you to the brink of insanity— jolts of pleasure lining down your spine and up your thighs making you press your knee further into her jeans. her large hands exploring your womanly frame, grasping onto your ass as your dress began to hitch up your thighs— the tightness of the fabric pressing deep into your skin, letting it bubble at its rim. “get on your knees for me.”

removing herself, the echo of the chair being moved back was loud and quick, pressing her knees down onto the wooden floorboards. her face in meet with your black laced panties that had been soaked. placing your hand at the back of her head, inviting her to press her nose right against your clothed clit, rolling your hips against her face as she held onto your thighs, nails digging into it’s plushness. she inhaled your scent— the aroma of your arousal filling her airway, letting you feel the lining of her curved nose slide from your clit then down your folds, letting it dampen her skin.

“that’s a good girl… such a pathetic pretty thing… huff it.” you moan, loving the sight of abby and the way she allowed you to talk to her.

“fuck miss…” she inhaled, “you smell so nice… m’ losin’ my mind…“ eyes closed, turning her head slightly left then right— nose buried deep into your clothed folds until it left an imprint, fabric sticking to your wet cunt. “m’so pathetic… all for you… can’t stop thinkin’ bout your fuckin’ pussy and god knows how much i…. how much i needed this.”

your fingers slid at the side of her face, taking any loose strands that fell from her braid away from her face as she spoke— getting a hold of her braid stabilizing her head, lifting it granting a loud inhaling moan.

she looked up you, eyes flickering between your eyes then your lace. “you’re so wet for me, i can feel ‘em through your panties, see” she breathed, sliding her thick fingers to feel your puffy folds almost hug around them— your slick seeping through and coating her fingers. she rose her fingers, spreading them apart, admiring the string that connected from her middle to her ring finger before placing them on her tongue and sucking them.

she lifted your dress some more, just enough to show your full stomach as she held onto your waist, pressing her lips deeply at the soft pudge, leaving slow, teasing kisses against, her lips sinking in every meet, with her eyes staring right up at you. abby wanted you to know she admired the way that you looked, how soft your body had been, letting this moment be the time she overindulged in every part you’d let her. her lips rimming around your belly button, opening her lips as she let her tongue slightly caress at the skin, “so soft..” abby spoke in a hushed tone, spreading your thighs apart more as she pressed her nose right in the center of your clit, inhaling your sweet smell once more before rolling her tongue over it. “can’t get ‘nough of this pussy… it just smells so sweet.” she breathed, latching onto your clit as she started to slowly suck right over your panties, feeling your throbbing bud feather against her tongue.

“yeah…? you like it don’t you baby? huffing it like a dog in heat.” you tease, tilting your head to see those pretty lips that were in its usual pout spread against the lace. “come on big girl, show me how much you need it.” enjoying the feeling of her harsh inhales and exhales traveling against your skin as she sucked— moaning sweetly between every word as your hips buck into her face, rolling them.

pulling down your panties to the side, she saw the wetness connect from your clit, running all down your slit, immediately spreading your lips apart, seeing your whole view.

“m’ gonna fuck it with my tongue… may i…? can i have my tongue so deep inside you, i can feel you clench yourself…?” her eyes not leaving your face, letting her tongue run up your slit as her mouth latches on.

“show me.”

just as she always does, she obliged, listening to your every request like a trained puppy— she pressed it’s muscle harder, circling her lips at the bud. with one hand holding her braid and the other at your hip, you press your shoe at her crotch, pressing down firmly, circling it around.

a tingling sensation bounced off her body, roaming through each part of her limps, the heat rose at her crotch was now your stepping stool. furrowing eyebrows and low grunts, her lips released, dropping her head down, she watched as your shoe pressed against her aching clothed pussy— her jeans already tight and harshly hugging her thighs to the point where she felt like busting through them. “fuck…” she breathed, spreading her kneeling legs apart, liking the pressure you placed on her. abby rolled her hips upward, eager to just feel something more— any attention to her cunt and the hard surface from the bottom your shoe, did wonders on her.

“i didn’t tell you to stop now did i pretty thing?” you coo as you lift her head by her braid, other hand sliding against her cheek with a slight stroke of her thumb before lifting and tapping her face, giving her a hard slap. her eyes widened and her hips jolted, feeling more of a press from your shoe— the throbs of her cunt matching it’s beats with the lingering sting of the slap, her moans growing louder and throaty. “oh?” loving the surprised glare abby gave you, “took you by surprise didn’t i?”

she smirked, basking in the tingle her face had, “the way you’re handlin’ me miss…” her lips now ghosting over your clit, “never had’a women talk to me like this before.”

“you like it, don’t you?”

“oh i surely do.”

abby was enticed with the way you felt against her tongue, pushing her face in as if there were to be any space in between, she’d want to fill her face in it— each lick, she curls her tongue at your entrance, hooking all that you leaked against her tongue, swallowing it and your labia fluttering in her mouth in the roughness of her suctions. popping her mouth off just to see the flesh of your pussy dance prettily and coated in her spit.

“please fuck my face miss…” she groaned in between sucks, “fuck it… please fuck it.”

her bitten nails piercing deep in your soft thighs and your ass, letting it fill her hands as she gripped and shook it in her grasp— your panties bunching and lining in between your ass. cocking a hand back, she spanked, a loud gasp croaking from your throat, hips jolting closer towards her face as she spanked you over and over again. “your fucking mouth… god youre so dirty… you make me feel so good.” you sigh, taking a deep breath as you found your legs buckling inward, hands at the top of her head— her neat braid now forming a mess.

“look how it’s drippin’… you needed this, didnt’ya miss?” admiring how wet you were for her, her eyes in full amazement— dazed by the taste and the scent. her tongue ran along your stripe, spitting on your clit, quickly lapping it up before she slowly slid its muscle in your opening. instantaneously you clenched against her, head bobbing as she let her tongue penetrate deeper into your cunt. it felt hot and warm, contorting her tongue just you can feel how hard her tongue worked— her nose bumping at your clit with her eyes watching your even reaction.

you were left in a moaning mess, unable to taunt her as much as you would’ve liked— she knew exactly what she was doing and how to please your pussy. moaning her name over and over again as your shoe continued to press harder against her crotch and your hips fuck up into her face. the grip she had on your ass, pulling you in even before she even thrusted herself outward, humming a line of ‘uh huhs’ as she took notice of the switch in your heightened sounds.

leaning herself back, there was a string of mixed slick and spit that connected you both, spreading your folds, spitting against your clit and letting it run down, quickly running her tongue up your folds, then spitting again. the spit turning stringy and somewhat slimy.

“stop.” you panted, yanking her head from her braid seeing her face wet, skin glistening in the mess she made from you cunt. strands of cluttering at her forehead as she tried her best to catch her breath.

“did i do somethin’ wrong?” lining her tongue against her lips.

“go on the couch. i need more.” taking your shoe from her crotch, watching the big woman get herself up on her feet, gulping down harshly as she walked towards the couch with you following.

“stand here.” you demanded, “watch me.”

your fingers curl at her buckle, feeling its cold metal against your fingers as you undid it, throwing it to the side and hearing it loud clunk against the floor following with her pants and boxers that you let puddle at her feet. your face now in view with her pussy— a warm deep honey flush of hair coating it , wild yet trimmed that lined all the way up her belly button. “im gonna let this pretty pussy fuck my tits.” you announced breathily.

she gasped in return, watching as you press your breasts together, poking out your chest with her hips following. “dont be shy… fuck it.” you tease, her hands holding onto your shoulders as you gather spit and let it fall at your thick, rounded breasts, already wet from abby’s hungry lips and you leaking.

she took no time to press herself onto you, the softness of your warm, wet breasts pressing at her hardened clit allowing a shaky moan to fall from her lips. no time was wasted before she rutted herself into your— her strong build making your body jerk at every thrust she gave. her clit felt warm and her slick tattooed your skin— each pull of thrust having a line of her slick connecting you both.

“good girl, fuck them rough.” you praised, abby now lost in lust, your leaking nipples dripping down onto your thighs and her own. the slaps of skin were loud and her moans were louder, gritting at her teeth. bending at the knees, you took a hold of one, rubbing your nipple down her folds, letting it feather her clit.

“it feels… so… goddamn good.” her moans broken but her thrust directed, throwing her head back as she let the sounds of her melodic moans bounce against the living room walls.

“that’s it, show mommy how good it feels.” you laugh, enjoying how abby lost herself for you. each part of her body was at work, lifting her shirt to show her own cute, small breasts, grasping on one and rolling her finger against her nipple. she twisted and turned at her, her body jolting forward, knees knocking inward, unable to keep herself standing.

you stood up quickly, needing to feel her against you. with a hand pressed at her chest, you pushed her down, watching her body bounce of the cushion. taking her jacket, you straddle her waist, your cunt pressed against her crotch as you take both her wrists in hand, pinning them above her head. your hips wildly roll upwards, feeling the sharpness of her shaped abdomen, letting your clit trail against it’s bumps as she breathed heavily. “god you’re so sexy…” you whined, your hips snapping as your body jiggled and moved— abby’s hands clasping onto your thighs then your stomach as it moved. “i want to fuck every… fucking part of your body…” you admitted, her stomach now wet with your slick before you let yourself run down and hover her cunt once more.

“been wantin’ta fuck you so bad miss…” she sighed, hips rolling up into you, mimicking the grinds you gave. the feeling of her jeans bumping at your clit, dampening it as your face snakes along hers. “drivin’ me insane…”

“oh am i now?” you moan prettily as you continue to roll your hips, feeling the heat between you both interlock. “i want you…” you breathe, voice shaking, “i want you to ride my pussy with yours… need to feel it on me.”

“miss… i would’a never thought you’d’a be so damn dirty…” abby grinned wickedly, eyes flashing dangerously at your request, turning you around so your back replaces hers on the couch.

grabbing you leg, she spreads them, lifting it, hovering herself over yours as she angled her clit on top of yours. her strong legs being pushed into your frame, feeling the weight of her strength in the consistency of her starting grinds. your fingers tug at the bottom of her shirt, lifting it up to see the hair that trail down her belly button wash lightly against her pubic bone— her pussy fleshy and wet. at contact, a loud groan croaked from her throat, pressing herself down further and starting to move her hips.

she rutted her hips wildly, unable to control herself with the way you sounded at every movement she made. huskily grunting at the feeling of your beating clit pressing up against hers and down her wet folds. hearing the wetness of your collision rise with the moans that fell from your throats. grasping onto her arms, nails digging into its skin with eyes that connected as you spoke at one another in the song of your moans. “baby your pussy feels so good…” you call out.

“atta girl…” abby grunted, heavy hips lifting as they slammed against yours— feral, rigid, “m’gonna breed you… fill you up and make you pregnant.” that once sweet and soft spoken southern woman, losing herself in her lust.

abby knew she couldn’t— she wasn’t thinking straight at all. the adrenaline that pumped through her veins caused her to not even feel the ache that stirred in the quickness of her rolling hips. each thrust, she felt her body shudder with excitement, like her body took shots of this moment to remember. her clit, pounded against yours, loving the intensity of colliding skin and your moans that got whiner after every grunt she spoke.

beats of sweat slid down her forehead just like she had been out on the field, cascading down in stylized ripples, feeling the itch in the tickling drip. your eyes wide, it wanting to miss any second, feeling yourself close to a haze, unable to grasp at the fact that abby said she was about to breed you when it wasn’t even physically possible. it was hot nonetheless— your body arching into the couch cushions as your nails tattooed the thickness of her rough yet soft skin.

“say…” you breathe out in a struggle, feeling your moans flow from your throat on lumps, swallowing the spit and running their tongue against your drying lips, “say that again..”

she laughed in another hungered grunt, her large hand pressing down at your full chest, letting her palm slide up until it hooked around your neck, thumb firmly giving you a nice choke, “oh my…” abby laughed breathlessly, eyebrows knitting into a pleasurable expression, “m’ gonna make you a mama again— m’a breed this pretty pussy. you need it dont’cha baby… i know i needed this...”

“do it!” you shouted with a devilish grin, rolling your eyes back as your felt your stomach tighten and your limbs lock. unable to keep still, your body flared as you tried so desperately to hold onto something. even though abby had you in her grasp, each breath being harder to take with her tightening hold, and your legs in an unmoving position, your body couldn’t take all this pleasure. it was quick, rigid, hunger and outward looking in, anyone could see how desperate you both were for the building orgasm that flooded in the language of your body movements.

“fuck m’a cum… take it…”

her clit pulsated hard, squeezing a rasped grunt as she felt herself gush directly onto your push— a satisfied sigh after every one she made— the clear liquid splashing onto your stomach, her chest and your face.

it took you by surprise, snapping your neck up to watch her squirt right on you as she grinded it all into you, the puddling mess escaping everywhere and filling the lining of your stomach until it concave as you breathed in. the sight alone was disgusting hot, toes curling as your orgasm hit you harder than any toy you’ve used and definitely harder than any person tried in the past.

“fuck…” abby sighed, gulping down roughly with her hips slowing themselves down— her body now glistening with sweat, her muscles being more prominent than before.

“im not through with you yet.” you laughed, “no one’s ever made me cum this hard and that fast. need to ring you out dry.” letting go of her shoulders, taking her braid that slung over it, and pulling her down so your lips were inches apart, “you know how to work a strap on pretty girl?”

“you wan’ that? m’ might break you.” abby snickered, being well versed in the used of a strap on, having many herself back at home.

“break me big girl.”

•••

both of you were now free of clothing as she laid prettily on your bed, legs sprawled out to see her wet pussy being on full display. her clit was cute, fleshy, dripping with cum that ran down the innards of her thigh. you pressed deep and slow kisses against the inner of her thighs all the way to her clit, running the flat of your tongue on it and with each lick, she'd stare, watching as it’d move in the direction you licked. she tasted sweet, filling your mouth as your nose felt the tickle by the constant rub against her pubic bone, letting your lips take breaks in between to kiss alongside it. you ran your finger against the hood of your clit, watching its bud stand as you blew cool air against it— her body twitching at the soft blow.

“does it feel good?” you tease, each couple licks granting an inhaling suck. her eyes went back and forth, closing them and trying to watch as your face took it’s place in between her legs. she wanted to watch you, the way you looked so sexy rolling your muscle at her aching clit. she felt a constant throb huddled at her temples, jaw clenching as she let out soft grunts, bucking her hips up towards your mouth. the scent of her was strong and tantalizing, popping your mouth off just to see the flesh of her pussy flutter prettily.

she nodded, already feeling the building orgasm at the bottom of her stomach. you ran your tongue against her skin, letting it trail all the way up to her belly button before nipping at her skin— teeth grazing as you sucked gently, feeling the burn against your tongue.

“use your words.” you breath against her, allowing a trail of spit to coat over her exposed bud.

“it feels… so…” she hummed, gulping down roughly as her body jerked slightly with the movement of your flicking tongue, “fuck it feels good miss… please… please let me fuck you.” she begged, unable to wait much longer knowing she didn’t have time herself before she’d lose herself completely.

a smile resided on your lips as your hand slid against the cold bedsheets, grabbing onto the strap and harness you had gotten while stumbling your way up the stairs and into your room.

taking it, she stood, legs slightly locking. red flushed at her shoulders and cheeks, with wet trails that fell and lined down her legs and splattered on her stomach— getting a better sight of what made up of her build. her ass was tight and muscling, clenching so cutely as she put one leg in the harness after the other, letting it sit tightly at her hips that had been fastened. you took her place in bed, laying and watching her as she quickly assembled it onto herself. your fingers grazed over your clit, feeling your body jerk with sensitivity, humming out pleasantly as she made her way towards your bed once again.

her lips warm and soft, raw from the constantly prod of yours as you stumbled your way from the couch, up the stairs and into your bedroom— they were red and even more plump before, throbbing at every spread when she smiled.

“god miss…” another breathy sigh being exhaled, “you’re gonna make me all pussy drunk.” her hand wrapping around the dildo— thick and a reasonable length. one that could fill with its fake ejaculation and stretch you, make you gasp upon entering. it had been one of your favorites, never failing to make you cum as if you were in one of those films where the sex was hot from a quick hookup at a bar. you used it a lot and especially when you wanted your legs to give out, slamming it into you until your arms were raw in pain— loving the sight when you took its girth from inside of you, squeezing the ‘cum’ it let out.

“seems like you already are, dont forget, you were just huffing my pussy downstairs.” you teased, her body hovering yours as she let the tip of the dildo replace your fingers, sliding it up and down your folds with a firm press. “impress me. you have my hopes up, don’t want to be let down.”

she scoffed, her lips savoring gentle kisses in between every word you spoke, “just cause this shit fake don’t mean m’not gonna fuck you like it’s real, miss.” and with a lean, she gathered spit in her mouth, letting it fall at the tip of the dildo that had already dropped from your slick, letting it run down its detailed shaft before stroking it— twisting wrist and a firm grasp. “lift that leg up f’me.”

you obliged, holding on up as it still trembled, remembering that hard orgasm you had on the couch. her other hand, free, slapped your clit with no warning, replacing the immediate sting with a calming rub as you felt your body twitch coldly. you liked that. she didn’t treat you like you were helpless— she didn’t fuck you like she felt bad for you. a single mother all desperate for a good enough fuck to remember, that’s what people thought once they lay in your bed. they all looked at you, thinking by the sweetness of your smile, you weren’t able to take something as simple as a choke or a little back and forth between degrading words— but a slap to the cunt from a hand as rough and as big as hers? it felt good, and before you could even make a complete thought she did it again.

“you’re a dirty thing.” abby let out in a impressed sigh, your fingers replacing hers as they tried to soothe your clit from the slaps. your pointer and middle, spread yours folds open, allowing her to see your readiness. “you ready f’me?”

“show me baby… show me. ruin me.”

pressing your leg against her chest, you felt the softness of her small breast and the heaves of her deep breaths. she angled herself, the dildo slowly disappearing into your cavern with a gasping moan filling the air. her eyes glued themselves, admiring the way you took her so easily despite it’s girth.

the sting of your leg and how it had been lifted burned at your thigh, letting out a pleasured shriek once you felt yourself wrap around her entirely— folds hugging its shaft. sunken inhales and fingers clasping onto the bed sheets, her hips start to move slowly and at each thrust, you saw her abdomen form and flex.

“god you’re so big…” you whisper, her hips staggering as she dipped her body down, face inches away from yours as it hovered. “such a… good… girl, go faster…”

abby couldn’t contain herself. the tight hug at the harness nudged against her clit, already stimulated and throbbing from your now absent mouth. each push of her hips came a harder pound, loving the way your breasts obnoxiously knocked into one another, taking a hold of one as she latched her lips on them again. she sucked harshly, letting her hips loose as she rolled them faster into you.

“just… just like that.” you call out, her responding in humming ‘mm hmms’, only caring for your demands and the heightening moans you let out.

she fucked you good. she fucked you hard. your body jerking every time her skin came in contact with yours. lifting her head, your hands frantically moved gripping at her jaw. deeper she went, hearing your sounds and pleads for more. abby swore she could feel you wrapped around her. you let your fingers dig into her cheek, feeling in indentation of her teeth through her cheeks, bringing her her face down. you pressed a long warm kiss against her squished lips, her heavy breath from her nose blowing at your upper lip as she tried to keep her breath steady.

“oh fuck miss… you feel so good.” she cooed in between each kiss, capturing your tongue in her mouth, sucking on its pink muscle, bobbing her head. “i need’ta breed you… i want’a cum inside… please let me.” she begged, your tongue swiping across her lips, collecting the remnants of spit that coated them.

“come on big girl, fill me up.” you egged on, surprised at how close your orgasm was picking up. the heat between your bodies burning as the shift of your bed scrapped against the wooden floorboards. each thrust, you heard the hard collision of skin, your body and stomach moving as her hand gripped it, massaging it as she let her eyes fall from yours to your breasts to your stomach. “you’re so good to me… so good for me… the way you treat me… you deserve it… breed my pussy. impregnate me…”

a fleeting glint of mischief and eagerness glistening in her watercolored colored eyes, your words trapping her in a lust filled state as her hips lost its consistency but picked up in its power. eyebrows furrowing, and dripping spit coated lips, she felt herself nearing closer and closer.

“please..” she whimpered, chanting over and over as she let out soft cries, eyes welting from how good it felt and how you sounded.

“cum with me..” you spoke gently, a harsh gasp as you curl your toes, “cum for mommy… come on baby.”

“i… fuck…” her hand hurried in search and in hold of the valve that allowed the strap’s ’cum’ to fill itself inside of you. “im gonna fill you up…” right before she felt herself reach her high, she squeezed it tight, its warm, thick cum filling itself inside, pressing firmly at your walls as some seeped out with every pull of her thrust— a white ring surrounded the base of the shaft.

she let out a loud howl, releasing herself with a splash of her squirt coming from the side of the harness, spraying down on top of you and the bed. your rolled to the back of your head— body trembling rigorously as your push your orgasm down onto her shaft. loud and clear moans being fought from your mouths as she let herself thrust deeper and slowing its pace.

“god…” you breathed as she slid out, immediately sitting in between your legs, hand pressed at your thigh as you push them cum from inside of you out. it leaked, slowly escaping and falling to the bed. “look how much you filled me.” you laugh tiredly, her eyes growing at the sight.

“jesus…” she sighed all the while trying to catch her breath, “my apologies but i dont think i had’a nough…” she admitted, her body visibly worn but full of an adrenaline high to stop herself.

smirking to yourself, you nodded, running your tongue over your lips, “good, cause im not done with you.”

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