#I feel extremely bad for viewing her like this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

prettyboykatsuki · 2 months ago

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BEND THE KNEE. | ZAYNE (LI SHEN)

♡ tags ; afab + fem!reader, reader is not explicitly mc, established relationship, porn almost no plot, somewhat undernegotiated kink, brat-taming, dom!zayne, sub!reader, corporal punishment (spanking), praise kink, emotional catharsis disguised as smut, fingering, cunnilingus (f!recieving), unprotected sex, aftercare scene included, 18+

♡ wc ; 10.6k (in two days...im so cooked)

♡ a/n ; woman has completely lost her marbles. more at 8.

about the kink being under-negotiated. it's a little tricky but zayne kind of springs this on reader which is not good etiquette technically . but because they have such a strong rapport and so much trust in each other - i think it works out for them anyway. always discuss things like this properly with your partner properly. but in this case, these two have a long established dynamic and complete trust in the other so in no way does reader feel uncomfortable or coerced. she trusts zayne to lead and thats important.

♡ synopsis ; bend the knee (verb) (idiomatic, by extension) - to show undue deference, obedience, or support for someone or something

or when zayne sees you on the edge of tipping over and decides to get you to open up, one way or another.

crossposted on ao3

You need something.

That’s what Zayne concludes after thinking it over.

For the better part of the last month, you have been in a bad mood.

It’s unusual for your off-days to last this long, or at least the kinds you’ve been having lately. Easily irritable, sighing and frustrated, receding into yourself. You’re as human as anyone else - but one of the things likes about you most is that even on your worst days, you seem to smile more often than not. It’s not that you’re happy all the time - but you’re prone to things like numbness and avoidance over sadness and projected anger.

In layman terms, Zayne has never in your entire relationship seen you so frustrated.

And, despite his best efforts to talk to you about it, you have swiftly avoided the conversation and insisted that everything is fine.

Zayne is used to you being stubborn. He’s had to navigate that from the start of your relationship. Though you’re open-minded and often easy-going, there are certain intricacies and small details that you refuse to overlook. Always hard-headed about the strangest things and always trying to fix everything on your own in an attempt to ease his burdens.

(The real problem is you viewing yourself as a burden in the first place but Zayne ventures that won’t be resolved in a weekend.)

You’ve talked about this at length already. You and Zayne are in a partnership. He’s your lover, your companion - which means you’re in it together. He can’t, however, act like a proper partner to you if you refuse to co-operate with him on any and all levels.

It’s not like Zayne is upset with you for it. He doesn’t think you’ve done anything wrong. It’s not even especially frustrating. Zayne is patient. He’s trained to be that way. So it’s fine if you need time, and it’s fine if you need a light push from him. He can throw whatever you handle at him, give you whatever you need.

For Zayne, that’s where the real problem lies. Your sour mood, this odd sense of secrecy, this persistent sadness - Zayne wants to help you get through it however he can. But figuring out what will actually resolve all of that proves to difficult. Do you need a push? Do you need to be forced to open up? Do you need to get emotional release? Do you need a night out or a weekend away? Maybe a date night?

Zayne has been sitting on this very question for the last few days determined. Any time he’s had a chance to think idly, it’s always drifted back to solving this mysterious puzzle and getting you back where you need to be. Safe, comfortable, and content.

Zayne settles on this: ultimately, you need catharsis. An emotional purging - the sort of thing that makes you break down so Zayne can build you back up. It seems like an extreme course of action but given just how long you’ve been wading this storm, he thinks that level of emotional distress is only natural.

After he figures that out, it’s a matter of how to achieve it.

What will give you the biggest emotional release? He considers a number of things: going on a hike, watching a devastating movie in the theaters, going to visit some baby penguins and seals at the Linkon City Zoo. Things he know will get you worked up in one way or another. Things that will unravel you.

But nothing he thinks of feels like enough. Whatever’s distressing you is distressing you enough to make you act out of character like this for weeks. His response to that needs to be just as able to carry the weight of it all, or else it might just make you bottle it up worse.

You need something, Zayne knows.

He thinks what you might need is to be punished.

He comes to this conclusion after trying not to think about it all together.

For Zayne, sex is an intimate affair. And between you, he is the less experimental. He has is moments, but most of your play that ends up being kinkier comes from your fantasies and daydreams. Zayne is happy to do these things for you and with you - and has learned a lot about himself in the process. Too much, maybe. He enjoys making you feel good. On the rare days off he has where you can have proper sex, he wants to give you as much pleasure as he can

Most of the kinkier things you’ve done are limited to sensation play. Things that should still feel good or won’t strain you to severely. You have had a long time interest in the more masochistic, the more punishing - and it’s not like Zayne hasn’t entertained it here and there. But still, it’s limited. Rarely a properly thought out act and more an impulsive whim. He has those with you more often then he cares to admit.

Things like temperature play, blindfolds, and minimal restraints. Nothing more than that, and never with consideration to a particular dynamic. How you have sex on a given day depends, the ‘control’ ebbing and flowing based on mood and circumstance.

The point being: Zayne has never properly punished you, though you’ve asked him to do it before.

You often make wry comments when he’s being especially firm with something (most often your well-being) about how he’d do it. He teases the idea lightly, but truthfully - teasing and experimenting are different from actually doing. Zayne has never considered it deeply outside of that.

But when you mention things to him, Zayne always remembers - stows the information away for when he may need it like right now. He likes being well-informed after all.

It’s all of these things combined that makes Zayne conclude that fulfilling your desire to be punished might actually be the most effective method of handling the state of affairs. It hits all of the marks providing emotional release, as well as physical release - and also gives you a reason to lash out in a controlled space.

Zayne read a number of BDSM forums and browsed through several erotica novels to get a clear picture after forming the hypothesis - collecting as much information as he possibly could on what his role would be in the affair.

As far as descriptions go, Zayne can self-report he fits the criteria for a ‘brat-tamer’ in essence. In a nonsexual way, disciplining you borders on second nature. Being firm is easy but so is being playful, and patient - since ultimately Zayne only whats the best for you. In the same vein, he thinks you fit the description of brat in your own way. A tendency to be fussy, a dislike for being told what to do, a playful mischief that he adores and only corrects as necessary.

It’s only after the extensive amount of research that Zayne is beholden to, does he understand the dynamic and scene itself. When the play starts to make sense, he comes upon on specific conclusion that leads him to believe this answer to be the right one.

Above all else, you really do want to be good, don’t you?

This isn’t working for you either. You’ve been bottling everything up for so long Zayne can’t imagine it’d be easy to approach him now even if you wanted to. Fostering an environment for you to express your feelings and for Zanyne to receive them. To respond to them, and ‘punish’ you for any wrong-doing so that the guilt doesn’t weigh down you so heavily.

Even through your month of bad moods, you sleep by Zayne’s side every night and wake him every morning. You tell him you love him and tell him when you’ll be home, even when you’re huffy and moody. You want to be good, so isn’t it only fair for Zayne to let you?

Zayne considers it all carefully. He thinks to make it work, he might have to spring it on you. He’s relying on the rapport between on already having been dating a few years - and the preventive safety measures you’ve had in place for other, less severe play. A safe word and a hand signal. It needs to be timed right, needs to throw you so slightly off-center in order for you to be receptive.

If you turn it down, Zayne will be back to the drawing board.

But he has a sneaking feeling that this really might be the last of your bad moods.

It’s one of those weeks where both you and Zayne are off-duty.

It’s rare that happens. Given your busy schedules and being in the midst of the busy season, you agreed mutually it’d be better to stay home and save your winter date for after the fog clears. Zayne was planning on having a day at home with you pleasantly doing nothing.

You are decidedly in one of your moods, however. He really can’t pinpoint what triggered it since you seemed to be just fine this morning, almost back to your usual self. And then something in the afternoon flipped a switch and now you’re right back where you’re started.

Zayne does not want to waste his day-off squabbling with you over something. So he decides today, he’ll try to get to the bottom of it once and for all.

He approaches you while you’re in the kitchen of his apartment - quietly making yourself a glass of tea. Conversation first, Zayne always tries to talk to you about it. No matter how much you try to avoid it - he thinks you could solve a lot with a conversation. No drastic measures until he at least asks, though a small part of him is expecting the same answer as he received so many times before.

He watches you in the kitchen, furiously making a cup of tea. In silence, contemplating if now is the right time. He wants to go about things the best he can. All he wants to do is help you. He sighs and then resolves himself.

Zayne comes up behind you, soft and gentle. “Would you like to tell me what’s happened to spoil your mood, my love?”

You pause and then frown, huffing - brows furrowed as you somewhat violently mix your sugar into your tea. “No. There’s nothing to talk about,”

“Nothing? Even though you were just fine this morning,” Zayne says evenly, voice lacking accusation. Still kind and only gently probing. “It’s been a month now of this. Whatever it is don’t you think it’d be better if we discussed it,”

You pause, a hand curled into a fist on the counter. “How many times do I have to tell you there’s nothing to say?”

He gives you a long look. “As many times as I see your mood change at the drop of a hat without a single indication as to why,”

Zayne can see it happen real time. A brief flash of some other emotion that’s followed up by anger. You let out an indignant noise, turning with your cup and looking up at him. Your lip is curled in anger.

“God, would you just leave it? There’s nothing to talk about so stop wasting time on your day off,”

Zayne looks down at you with an expression unreadable. And then, he makes a choice to keep his face even. This is normally when he would drop the conversation entirely. Soothe you a bit, and you’d apologize and hug him though you’d still not tell him a thing. But he thinks right now is the best time to enact his plan. He takes your mug from your hand and sets it on the counter behind you, sitting both his and yours besides each other.

And then he cages you in, trapping your body between him on the counter while Zayne grips onto the marble edge.

You look at him confused but Zayne remains calm and quiet until he leans down close to you. Almost eye-level, making sure to be far enough for you to look at his face and his expression.

He lets the silence sit for a beat. He watches your expression change. But he waits - long enough for you to squirm before he breaks it again.

“Watch how you speak to me,” He says. Your eyes widen in surprise but Zayne doesn’t waver. “Did you think I was going to tolerate this kind of behavior forever?”

For a minute you’re awestruck. Well and truly surprised, which is all Zayne wanted to accomplish. You stammer. First upset, then a flashing bit of sadness, then anger all over again. You have something to say but you can’t find the right words to combat him. Zayne does this on purpose. He’s always gentle and soothing and easy with you but it’s not the time for it.

He brings his hand up to your face, palm cupping your cheek - scrutinizing your every reaction under watchful gaze. It’s surprisingly easy to make you nervous - eyes flickering away from him. Zayne decides against forcing it, opting to continue his lecture.

“Do you think it’s fair for you to speak to me that way?”

You stutter again. “I already told you that it’s—“

Zayne cuts you off. It’s unlike him. “I didn’t ask about that. I asked if you thought you were being fair speaking to me that way. Answer my question,”

“Why does it need to be fair?” Your voice trembles. Zayne does not show you any reaction. It’s harder than he expects given how cute he finds you.

“Is it unnecessary? Then, should I punish you according to how you’ve been treating me, rather then trying to be fair to you? Since it’s not important,”

You look utterly bewildered. “Punish—?“

Zayne holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up slightly.

“Yes, punish. If we’re not basing it on fairness - then the only metric left is how you’ve been acting as of late,” Zayne says slow and deliberate. “On that basis, you deserve to be punished. Either you can admit to being in the wrong or be honest with me you can be punished accordingly. Do you understand?”

A beat. Your lip trembles like you might cry but you seem to get on the same page quickly. You refuse him, but Zayne can tell this is having the exact impact he wanted it to. He knows you’ll keep being stubborn, is expecting it - so you refuting him does not surprise him at all.

“I haven’t done anything wrong, I already—“

Zayne shoves a thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. You make a noise around him, words muffled as you attempt to pull away.

There’s a long stretch of silence where Zayne locks eyes with you. Reaching out to you - affirming something. He leans on the rapport you have between you. The ability to withdraw from this if you wish. He stares at you as you crumple under the gaze but do not refuse him.

“Assuming you still don’t understand, I’ll tell you.” Zayne says. His voice is soft, deliberately gentle all while holding your gaze. He presses down harder, feeling your bottom row of teeth at the knuckle of his thumb. “I’m going to bend you over my knee until you tell me in your own words that you’re sorry. Since you can’t be honest by yourself, I’ll help you. Now I’ll ask you again: do you understand?”

You glare, and flinch - but you don’t back away. “I get it already. But that doesn’t mean—“

Ultimately. It’s tiny, bordering on imperceptible but it’s there. A brief recognition of play, and understanding of whats going on. Zayne steps away from you, freeing you from his grip. His expression remains neutral now, less kind then before. You’re on the same page.

“Do you want me to carry you to our room or can you handle walking on your own?”

You look at him furious. “I can walk!”

Zayne doesn’t say anything as he trails behind you.

Once you enter the bedroom, Zayne steps in behind you and shuts the door. Your expression is interesting, he thinks. He’s never seen such a colorful array of emotions flash across your face in such a short time. Despite your attitude and your active grumbling, you almost seem timid to him now. You’re clearly protesting him in some way, acting out what he’s sure is your sincere frustration. But all Zayne can feel is pleased that you’re acting the ways he thought you would. It gives him a strange affirmation that he knows you as well as he thought, he’s satisfied with it. Directing it all towards him, all the frustration as you mutter under your breath.

The words fall on deaf ears and after a while of him not responding, you snap.

“What are you staring at me for?” You nip. Zayne looks at you unimpressed. He takes a seat on the foot of the bed, careful to leave just enough room for you as he does. He slides his robe off of his shoulders and carefully pushes up the white long-sleeves of the Henley he wears during the cold season.

“Come,”

You stand still and Zayne sighs.

He’s gentler with you normally. Softer and more delicate. But soft won’t get you to listen to him so he opts to pull you closer by the wrist. It’s not often he feels any need to exert his strength over you this way. But it’s different now. It demands it of him, so he does. You struggle as you fall towards him - into his chest, caught off guard by the sudden movement.

Zayne wastes no time - maneuvering, manhandling you to be bent over his knee. He uses one hand to slide your pants off completely but leaves your underwear as they are. You gasp under your breath in shock. You’re turned away from him, your cheek pressed to the sheets. Zayne takes a minute to drink you in, examining the white cotton with lace trim that you wear underneath your pajama pants, wearing white ankle socks with a matching trim that he finds remarkably cute.

Your torso rests across his lap, pressed to the mattress with your arms folded in protest as your knees rest on the bed. You kick one of your feet up - Zayne thinks in a half-ass attempt at objection. He holds you down over his lap more forcefully then before, his arm around your waist. He bends down slightly and speaks with a slow, clear voice.

“This is your punishment. Each time I spank you I want you to count. If you forget, we start over. I’ll stop when you make it up to me and say sorry. Is that clear?”

“I didn’t even do anything!“

Zayne uses his hand to grip your chin hard. A warning. “Enough. You had two choices and you made yours. I will not explain myself again,” Zayne says. You quiet at his tone - brattiness temporarily placated.

It’s strangely natural to him to do this. Easier than he thought it’d be. He thought being so firm, so strict to you would feel awkward for the first time. But it’s easy to do when he thinks of the outcome he wants. Always the best for you - if this is what you need from him, then this is what Zayne can give you. He pulls back when you relent. No longer squirming away from him.

“Repeat your safeword to me, love.”

“Red,” You say through a huff.

His hand rests on your lower back, tugging your panties up until they’re creased. “What do you if you can’t speak?”

“Tap three times.”

“Good job.” He says, soothing. It makes you pause in his lap. “Now, count,”

Zayne uses his hands to grope and squeeze your ass gently before doing anything else. You take a shaky breath underneath him as he carefully measures the pressure. He lifts his palm high before coming back down - a resounding smack echoing through inside of the quiet walls of your bedroom.

You let out a loud cry.

You jolt - startling at the feeling. “That—It hurts!”

“Do I need to remind you of what to do each time,” Zayne asks. You fuss underneath him, pressing your face to the sheets in what he recognizes as embarrassment.

“Fuck. One,”

“Good girl,”

Zayne repeats the motion again. You whimper this time - clearly more prepared for that strike then the first. He stares, already noticing his handprint becoming visible. He waits for you to respond.

“T-two,”

Again. Zayne admires the way the fat ripples at his touch. You shift yourself away from him at the sensation but Zayne quickly pulls you right back down to your place.

“Three,” You whine.

Zayne touches your inner thigh soothingly.

“If it’s too much to bear, all you need to say is sorry,”

You scoff - showy, but your voice is wavering. “What do I have to be sorry for?”

Zayne sighs. Again. “Shit, four.”

“You don’t know what you need to be sorry for? Do you need me to answer that for you too?”

“I don’t need you to—five,”

“You kept it in for an entire month and took your frustration out on me. All you need to do is apologize and I’ll forgive you.”

You sniffle, voice small and petulant. “I won’t.”

Zayne hums. “Then your punishment continues,”

Again. “Six,”

Again “Seven”

Again. “Fuck, eight,”

You’re sturdy. Sturdy enough to handle a few hits with ease. Zayne knows because he accounted for it. Your tolerance for pain, your ability to endure it. It’s why he doesn’t set a number though he has one. If he gives you an option to simply sit through a punishment , you’ll grit your teeth and bear it all the way till the end. You’re stubborn.

You’re strong. Of course you are. He knows eight hits are barely doing much to you - even as he’s coming down on each strike so firmly. You’ve been training as Hunter for years and familiar with pain so much worse than this.

But you’re sniffling underneath him, clearly holding in soft sobs despite yourself. He thinks it’s proof of the effectiveness but it makes Zayne feel sympathetic all the same. Zayne doesn’t think you’ll make it far past ten. But he keeps all of this to himself. He brings his other hand up to your mouth and rubs his thumb on your lower lip - feeling for blood or indentations. He presses it to your lips.

“Don’t bite your lip,” He says, forcing your mouth open with the digit. He presses his thumb against your tongue again as you protest it. “If you need to bite, use my thumb.”

Where Zayne expects you to bite him sharp in retaliation, you simply close your mouth and suck. He feels his chest squeeze. Slowly but surely.

Again and again and again. On the eleventh one is what finally makes you forgo trying to hold back your sobs. They’re quiet, almost meek - weakly protesting each one as soft tears roll down your cheek. Before the twelfth - Zayne takes care to remind you. He makes his voice softer on purpose. Makes his words kinder and less stern.

“All you have to do is tell me you’re sorry. I’ll take care of the rest,” He promises, hand rubbing stinging skin. “That’s all. You can do it, can’t you?”

You remain silent, hesitant. Zayne doesn’t scold you.

Again. “Twelve,”

Your voice is small on the last one. A little more, Zayne thinks. “Afterwards, you can ask for anything you like.”

Again. Your voice trembles. Thirteen comes out barely audible, but Zayne decides not to hold it against you.

“I’m not punishing you because I’m angry, but because I want you to understand—because I want you to be good for me like I know you can be.” Zayne soothes, rubbing gently just where he hit before. “You don’t need to endure by yourself. All you need to do is remember that,”

You’re quiet. Once more, but he does it softer this time.

“F-fourteen,” You say. Your voice is wrecked with some unspoken sorrow.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me,” Zayne presses, voice warm and soothing. “Or would you like to continue you being punished?”

A pause. Zayne gives you time to respond. He takes a second to glance down further between your legs - noticing an incredibly dark patch of wetness right at the seam of your panties. He uses his fingers to rub over the spot carefully, amused by the small gasp that leaves your lips. He only brushes it - not provoking you further. A little amused that you liked it despite yourself.

You shift, clearly ready. Zayne takes the initiative.

“Yes, my love?”

Your voice comes out wobbly. Thick with tears and emotions - like you’re just about ready to shatter into a million pieces. It makes Zayne incredibly fond and incredibly heartbroken all in the same breath. He remains steadfast and waits for you as you take a deep breath and find the right words. You have something to say.

Or you try too, but the words tumble out in a tearful mess anyway. “I-I’m sorrryy,”

You wail. Zayne can’t help but be taken aback every so slightly by it. He was expecting it but he didn’t think it’d be so difficult for him to hear.

“Shh. It’s okay. I’m not angry. Are you in pain? Can you sit?” Zayne asks. You sob, answering through tears. Your words are slurred, hiccuping. You cry a little longer before you answer him.

“Is okay,”

Zayne nods. He helps stand you up before he sits you back down on his lap - straddling him while he supports your weight. Your face is tear-stricken, eyes red-rimmed and still crying as he pulls you up. His expression warms , reaching up to brush his thumb underneath your eye and soothe your sobbing.

And then he hugs you. Puts a hand on the back of your head and pulls you into his chest. Your face pressed into the side of his neck. He rubs slow, soothing circles into your back - telling you to take deep breaths as he kisses your shoulder blades and whispers as many sweet nothings as he can think up.

You’re a wreck in his arms. Wordless, helpless - your hands are fisted into the back of his shirt. All the fight has been wrung out of you. Limp in his grasp, you weep woefully and tell him you love him in thick tears. Zayne holds you tight, steady - nothing but the sound of your sobs to accompany you until you’ve let enough of it out to at least speak to him. You pull away - face messy and damp from crying.

Zayne cannot help but think about how much he utterly adores you.

Your lower lip quivers helplessly. “I’m sorry, ‘m really sorry,”

Zayne shakes his head. “That’s quite alright. I told you I’d forgive you, wouldn’t I?”

You nod. Zayne looks at you warmly, thumb tracing the shell of your ear. “We’ll talk later. Tell me first - what should I give you for being a good girl?”

You have a floatiness about you. Eyes glazed over just slightly - clearly comforted enough to release whatever you’ve been holding. Unburdened, it’s like you’ve become something else. Hazy and dependent - lashes fluttering and completely sincere. “I’m good?”

“Yes. You did well. How should I reward you?” Zayne affirms. “Would you like me to take care of this?”

He goes again to cup your clothed pussy. You rut into his hand - biting the inside of your lip as you nod.

It’s something about you like this that sears Zayne’s subconscious like a brand. Unusually docile, vulnerable, needy. It’s strange. He didn’t think of himself as someone with such a strong desire to exploit. Or maybe this is an extension of something that’s already been embedded in him for a long time. To take something apart in his hands with precision and put it back together again. A life, a heart, a lover. You’ve been at the very front of the desire for a long time.

“Tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you.” Zayne says. Soft and sincere and sun-warm just looking at you falling apart so easily. “Don’t be shy. You should be demanding like you always are.”

You press your cheek to his shoulder, shivering a little in his lap. “Want it hard,”

“Is that all the hint I get?” Zayne teases. You groan into his shirt as he bites back a laugh.

“Yes,” You reply instantly. You’re being shy. It almost makes him laugh.

“Well, if that’s all you want then,” He gropes you, his hands running over the soft curve of your ass - marks still stinging underneath his palms. “I’ll have to stretch you open first. Make sure it’s soft enough for me to reach all the way in here,” He places a hand on your stomach and you shiver again. Zayne speaks against your shoulder - a smile playing at his lips.

“Is that alright?”

You nod. “Uh-huh.”

You’ve been reduced down to something that Zayne should want to protect - but finds stronger the urge to experiment with. It is an unkind way of thinking after he’s already gone so far as to punish you. Wring your emotions out by force until you sob and shiver like this. But his eyes settle onto your face and the thoughts won’t leave him. They’re even more strangely persistent, even louder than usual - echoed with your wistful demand for him to give it to you hard - whatever that may mean. And Zayne intends to give it to you in the capacity in which he can.

It means cruel, cutting precision when it’s him. Deft fingers, a sharp memory and endless amount of endurance. Zayne usually placates you, satisfies - gives you enough to make you contented, maybe refreshed, rather then wearing you down. He wants it to be something that you can unwind with.

Despite all of this and all of the kindness he wants to show you, there’s something about your expression and how you’ve folded over yourself that makes Zayne want to ruin you completely.

He knows he can. He knows you’d look good like that. He’d take good care of you. He has many useless, unending thoughts such as these until something in him boils over. He thinks about it with a furrowed brow and then when the silence is about to border on too long - he leans in and presses his lips to yours.

Chaste but longing - clear intention. He eyes you and lands on only one thing to say.

“I’ll take good care of you,”

You blink. It’s something he’s said before - but you both know there is something different about how he’s said it. So you just… nod. Listen. Obedient like you never are and his lips tug ever so slightly at the corner.

Zayne hauls you with him until you’re both able to lay comfortably in the middle of the bed. He lays you down carefully in the mess of sheets and pillows until you’re resting in them like a painting. You’re frayed at the edges, hands twitching at your sides. Zayne hovers over you until he’s close enough. All the air in the grows thick, hot - and he finds he can’t breath around him with the way you’re looking at him.

There’s a reverence in your eyes. Fingers threading through his dark locks, squeezing at the base until you’re bringing him down nose to nose. Your eyes flutter back open. They’re wide and watery and beautiful—you’re really just looking at him.

You look… grateful. Entirely grateful.

Zayne is so hard it’s hurt.

Zayne kisses you deeply - hungry with it. Suddenly feverish as both hands cup your face and hold you, tipping your head back so you open your mouth wide. He slides his tongue against yours, forces your mouth open deeper like he might try and eat you whole. But you relent - yield unusually easily to the demand of it as your arms go around his neck and stay there holding him close.

The room fills with the sound of deep breaths. Wet noises that drown out the loud static threatening to render him something more beast then man. You moan into his mouth when you kiss, chasing him each time he pulls away with this little needy pout to you that Zayne adores.

Zayne pulls away and presses his nose to your jawline. He presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, to your chin, all the way up to the junction of your neck and shoulder. He whispers sweet nothings into the skin - repeatedly affirming only that he wants to make you feel good.

There’s something about how good you’re being about all of it that feels enigmatic - so much so that it’s completely electrifying for him to witness. This kind of sweetness has a novelty to it that makes his heart pump hard. You’re never so pliant. So willing to give yourself. It’s not that it’s always a fight, but you’re usually so sober during sex it borders on steely. A catlike grin with an ironclad determination to never lose, not even to him.

And Zayne loves that about you to. Loves being wrapped around your finger or tugged by your leash - loves that you demand things of him. He finds it a privilege to give it to you. This is just too new, too exhilarating for him not to be intrigued by.

You’ve conceded now. Your body and mind have decided it unanimously and it’s why you’re melting so easily at his every touch. Like accepting a loss - some kind of complete and utter defeat, and accepting it so gracefully it makes Zayne wonder if it’d been your plan all along.

(He isn’t arrogant enough nor clueless enough to believe that, but the thoughts sends shivers down his spine all the same.)

Zayne traces kisses around the parts of your body he can reach. Down the slope of your jaw all the way down to the dip of your clavicle - the center of your sternum. Your skin runs warm under his touch - he can almost feel your pulse through your skin. He stops to leave small marks just underneath where your collar would sit. They come out a shade darker and a little bigger than they normally do. They look (read: are) deliberately placed. An intentional trail from neck down. A warding signal.

He runs his incisors against your pulse, tugging at your earlobe as you shiver somewhat delightfully in response to him. The dull drag of his teeth seems to excite you. Your back curls up, goosebumps covering the surface of your skin.

Reaching your chest, Zayne uses both hands to squeeze and push your breasts together firm. It’s lacking the delicacy he likes showing - a strong grip, almost bruising. Fingers squeezing the fat until it spills from between them, palms pushing lightly against hardened nipples as you moan out loud in reply. Your body is more sensitive than it is usually. Each touch makes you antsy.

He ducks his head down deciding not to waste time - mouth closing around one of your nipples while his free hand plays with the other. He flicks and sucks with his tongue, using the blunt of his nail to copy the motion to the other, giving them equal attention.

You moan, this part of your body especially responsive to touch. He can feel them each pebble with arousal.

“Hngh, fuck, fuck - feelsh good,”

Your words come out slurred as you pant as Zayne pulls each sound out of you. You look blissed out, your hips canting where he’s slotted between your knees - rubbing up against him for friction like you’re in heat. Zayne only stops to switch side. He sinks his teeth at one point, long having lost his usual composure - licking over the indentations when it’s over.

“Hicc, more - please, more,”

The desperation in your voice makes Zayne pull away. He rests his forehead against you, kissing the space above your belly and whispering sweetly. “You’re being so good for me,”

Another whine. Zayne laughs audibly at it, affectionately - something overwhelming him. He picks his head up to look at you this time. “How can you be so sweet, hm?”

You preen under the praise so visibly it makes Zayne shiver. Such a stark contrast, such a receptive reply. Your lips pull into another pout, eyes sparkling with the greed of a lover and Zayne cannot imagine in a million years being seriously angry with you about a single thing. One look is all it takes to unravel him this completely.

Zayne is reminded that he’s a warm-blooded, living thing laying in bed with you. Heart-beating hard, chest heaving, ears ringing. This animal desire that wells up in his gut and whispers to him to take you while you’re at your most vulnerable - mark you somewhere his fingers can’t reach and plant a seed where no one else can touch, is a loud one. It’s like he can feel how he’s hard-wired to want, and want, and want.

But he loves you is the thing - so much that all of that desire becomes concentrated. Heavy like dark matter, atoms splitting endlessly as if it defies all known laws of the universe.

He thinks one hundred thoughts at once and leans up to kiss you like he needs you for oxygen. You’re startled but give him a reply as he forces his mouth onto yours like he’s starving. Signaling it back to him, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Zayne groans into your mouth before he pulls away and goes back down. He trails open, sloppy kisses down your chest - all the way down to your navel until he’s face to face with your clothed cunt.

He uses his shoulders to nudge your legs apart even further and feels all the air rush from his lungs like he’s been sucker punched.

You’re wetter than he thinks he’s ever seen you. It’s thrilling, tantalizing in a way that makes the last threads of his self-control shred themselves into nothing at the sight. He shivers, hands gripping at your thighs to push them even further apart. His lust suddenly feels bottomless - an empty void with a gnawing hunger.

And then, the only word he can think to use spits from between his lips - half way between curse and prayer. “Fuck, my love.”

You jolt hearing it. Whimper so loudly and shamefully, reacting it to him in such an obvious way. Zayne gets the inkling then that you’re going to be spending most of your day in bed just like this.

He touches first. Can’t help his curiosity. His hand resting on your sex - thumb dragging against the soaked fabric of your panties. His finger comes away sticky as he rubs and strokes and examines. Burns it into his memory, each slight twitch. How you clench around nothing - slick flooding the material so unhelpfully. The distant thought bounces around in the back of his mind, that you got off this much on being punished. There’s so much.

Zayne breathes. Has to remember to do it after he sees you like that. Legs spread, chest heaving, and so so eager. There’s a list of things he wants to do with you but he stills, and slows - and just over the unusual pull of his desires, focuses on just touching you. He fixes in on making you cum just like that. Slow easy strokes over the wet fabric. Circular motions that are precise even while each breath he takes is so uneven.

You keen over him. Pitchy, high - legs trembling. Sensitive. You look down at him with wide eyes.

“I’ll cum,” You say.

Zayne realizes you’re even deeper into the head space than he thought. You’re so uncertain about it. He hums.

“Ask for permission when you get close.”

The instructions abate your anxiety and you nod, sink back, and let yourself indulge in the touch that Zayne offers to you unrestricted.

This is driving him crazy. You are driving him crazy. So out of his mind that he can’t find his usual sweet talk. His restrained motions are all he can manage. He’s the one making you cum but for some reason it feels like he needs to sober himself more than you do.

He kisses the inside of your thigh. “Just once like this, alright?”

You nod. You’re out of it well and truly, hips meeting his touch. Moaning and breathing heavily, hands fidgeting. You lurch suddenly when Zayne seems to brush an extra sensitive spot and you gasp, eyes shut hard.

“Wanna cum, please can I—“

“It’s alright. Go on,”

You moan a little thank you without any reminder - your whole body curling in on itself as you get off for the first time in the evening. Zayne watches your panties soak with interest. Up close and personal. Fuck, they’re so drenched now, so wet. He watches cum drip down and soak the sheets underneath you as revel in post orgasm bliss and finds himself at least a little more content.

He kisses your thighs again. “Good girl,”

Zayne gives you a beat to breathe before he busies himself taking off your panties. Long fingers curling in the waist band. You lift your legs up helpfully, letting Zayne roll them all the way down until you’re bare. He tosses them along with the other stripped clothes laying in a heap near your bed before settling down again between your legs.

Your cunt is splayed open. Wet and soft and inviting, he watches it pulse. You’re throbbing, heat radiating off of you in waves. He prefers to draw things out longer, but he feels particular impatient with the state of affairs.

He pulls you down him close until his breath is just tickling your skin, kissing your clit affectionately before using his tongue to flick against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You shudder. Nearly scream. Zayne can tell he’s being impacted by this whole affair in the exact way he thinks he is because of how much it makes him want to keep going. You squeak over him, a hand in his hair.

“Wait, wait—t-too much, just came it’s—“

“Shhh,” Zayne soothes with false sympathy. “Be good and take it,”

You relent. A little helpless whimper leaving your mouth as Zayne takes you into his mouth again. Your clit is throbbing so hard he can feel it on each pass of tongue. His mouth fills with the taste of you, heady and rich. Zayne’s eyes flutter back, pleased with it. He opens them back up to drink you in above him, flush. On your back, spread open and so aroused.

He feels himself go slack, lust wrenching all the usual tension from him. He’d be fine to just do this until sunrise - and he would, if he wasn’t already feeling so out of sorts. He needs to open you up so he can do what you both want. Zayne closes his lips around your clit - giving you slight suction that he follows with tongue. Your mouth drops open in silent scream, over stimulation frying your nerves. Your jaw is dropped open, drool pooling at the corner of your lips.

He knows your body like the back of his hand and has no trouble at all navigating the quickest route to make you feel good. The specific ways you need to be touched to loosen your limbs, make your insides soft for him. It’s not that he’s rushing. But he’s being even more particular about it then usual.

It’s hard to ignore the growing tightness in his pants. He’s been ignoring completely for a while now so he can focus on you, but he’s so hard it’s straining him. Gossamer threads of pre-cum are pooling in the confinement of his boxers, only getting thicker as he ruts himself against the bed to ease the uncomfortable friction he’s feeling.

He adjusts himself, bringing his fingers up to your core and gently nudging them through your folds as warning of whats to come.

You let out a low sound. “Ooh,”

He slides his middle fingers down until there’s give. It’s easy to find your entrance and push with how wet you are. There’s barely an resistance him when he presses the digit inside and it makes his stomach flip. You’re so soaked it takes no effort - there’s not anything left of you to resist him and it drives him, truthfully, up a wall. Still, you’re clenching down hard on his middle finger. Wheezing quietly as he presses forward, slowly fucking his finger into you until he’s all the way down the knuckle.

You collapse above him. Your body, a mess of tension and tight nerves, gives under the weight of the pleasure and you slump back into the bed and take. Moan loud and unabashed, his name sweet on your lips. His favorite sound. If he wasn’t occupied - he’d praise you just for saying it.

Your pussy feels so good to the touch. Always does. You’re so much more sensitive than usual it feels like you don’t want him to pull away. A whine leaves you at the loss of the stretch. Zayne looks at you from between your legs and sees a face that’s near begging to be filled up by something else.

It takes every fiber of his restraint to not stop right there and fuck into you immediately.

But he’s doing this for a reason - he reminds himself.

He adds a second finger and it slides in just as smoother. This is enough to prep you. If he stretches you out, scissors his fingers inside of you just right - you can take him easily without him having to worry.

But he’s feeling especially relentless tonight. You’re still reeling and over sensitive, barely hanging on over him as his mouth busies itself. Two would be good enough to make you cum just like this.

Zayne is a little out of his wits decidedly - but he gives you a moment to breathe before adding a third finger.

You gasp. “W-wait, wai—nghh,”

Goosebumps pebble your skin as Zayne meticulously adds in another finger. His middle, ring, and pointer all fit inside of you with more ease then he expects. He goes slowly on his pointer. Your body wracks above him at the stretch, nothing but mindless babble as you tuck your face halfway to the bed sheets and try to hold onto.

Three fingers all the way down to base, Zayne curls them up with a cruel demonstration of precision. His hands are bigger than yours - thicker and longer. There’s a real possibility that this is the first time anyone has touched this deep and the thought sends Zayne reeling.

With his mouth lapping at your clit and his digits pressed up against your g-spot with such pinpoint accuracy, Zayne is not surprised to hear you above him wailing. Completely different to before, a pleasured sob almost like you’re going to heave. Your voice is raw with need.

“Oh, please, please, please—can I please—“

Zayne hums an affirmative into your pussy. It’s all it takes for you to cum for him again. Both of your hands fisted in the sheets as your buck up into Zayne’s mouth - soundless. He continues through it. Makes sure the ecstasy of your high lasts as long as he can draw it out and only stops when you’re desperately pulling him away to make sure you don’t die from the stimulation.

He pulls off, slick running down his chin - all the way in little rivulets down his neck. He wipes carefully and licks it off of his hand - since anything else would feel like a waste. He sits up on his knees before crowding over you, pressing his forehead to yours as you blink away tears.

“Still okay?”

You make a garbled noise. Zayne laughs, a hand coming up to wipe some of the wetness away from your face.

“Words, sweet girl.”

“…’m okay.” You say after a while. You stare at him and then reach for his sleeve, tugging at it. “Are you not gonna fuck me?”

Zayne feels a shiver run down his spine at how blatantly you ask. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to hearing you talk that way.

“Would you still like me too?”

You purse your lips. “Please? I was good,”

Ah. His composure is truthfully already shred to pieces but he isn’t sure he can recover from that. He’s so painfully endeared. It tucks behind his ribs somewhere, makes him feel ridiculously in love and so turned-on it’s startling. He caresses your cheek, tenderly stroke the flush skin with his thumbs.

“You were very good. So very perfect for me, always,”

You beam at him. A slow blink followed by a sweet little smile that Zayne reads as bashful. He drops his head onto your shoulders and just sighs.

He comes up to look at you. It’s not like you look innocent but you’re so completely trusting in him.

“Come here,” Zayne says. He dips his head down to kiss you as tenderly as he possibly can. You sigh happily into his mouth and he just smiles a little. He feels especially helpless to this onslaught of affection but decides it’s not such a bad thing.

He gets up again, just to get condoms but you’re tugging at his shirt before he gets a chance to move.

“Where are you going? And… take this off,”

“To get condoms.”

You shake your head. “Just hurry,”

You’re on contraceptives. You’re also in a long term relationship. But Zayne still tries to use condoms - mostly for clean-up so he uses them more often then not. Only goes without for an occasion.

(Or for when his lover is laid out underneath, begging him without shame to fuck her already and Zayne really finds he has no other choice.)

“Don’t whine later when I have to clean it,” Zayne says playfully. He slips of his shirt finally, feeling ten degrees cooler as it disappears with the rest of your clothes. He pushes his pants down just barely past his thighs - cock springing free. Just having the air touching it makes his stomach tighten.

“You wanted it hard, right? Turn over. On your stomach,”

You shiver but listen with ease - grabbing a pillow for security as you flip onto your stomach.

Zayne likes missionary most of all - but this is a reward. Prone-bone is a good compromise for what you both want. You lay on your stomach underneath him, limp and focused on nothing but getting fucked and Zayne still gets to be as close to you as possible, bodies pressed together and all.

You’re beautiful. Zayne won’t ever get over it. The sight of your spine covered in sweat, the slight raise of trembling hips, all the curves and scars and stretch marks he’s kissed over and over again. He feels absolutely besotted with you, entranced by the very sight of you in his bed like he hasn’t seen it so many times before. He’s like this even now, the weight of his own burning desire like a hit to his solar plexus.

He feels at his wits end when he finally bends himself over you to fuck you. He kisses all the way down from the nape of your neck to the small of your back - the kind of worship only available to the holy thing that lays in his sheets, the deity of his very life. You push yourself up against him as invitation as Zayne lets his cock rest against the swell of your ass - still lightly red from punishment.

You spread your legs for him as Zayne slowly, carefully finds the right angle until the tip of his cock catches.

Your pussy stretches for him like it was made to do exactly this. The ruddy, leaking head of slides into you with ease. Silken walls hugging him, enveloping him in an impossible warmth that makes Zayne feel completely out of his wits. He puts both hands on your hips - making sure to ease in slowly. Careful and kind - trying his best not to hurt you.

Zayne is wound tight. It’s a tremendous show of his patience that he’s being so gentle despite, despite, despite. Most of his thoughts feel concentrated in the one part of his body he shouldn’t think with and he wants to sink into you without a single care. His whole being thrashes against this feeling. He holds steady anyway s - until he bottoms out, his pelvis flush to your ass.

You shudder beneath him. Your face is in a pillow, fucked out and drooling. All you do is moan, pushing yourself up again and wiggling your hips like you’re attempting to entice him into fucking you. As if it’s something he doesn’t already want to do.

Zayne drops his head onto your shoulders. You whine, wanton and the last remaining pieces of his restraint fall out of place. He pulls out and pushes back in all at once, the both of you lost in the ecstasy.

The bliss of it is unbelievable. Zayne can barely control himself, mounting you and relying on his memory of your body to fuck himself into the spot you like best. His forehead drops onto your shoulder and he lets himself go loose - kissing the back of your neck as he ruts himself into you again and again.

“Oh, you’re so perfect. You feel so good. I love you,”

It’s not fast, but it’s deep. In the way that’s more brutal then him fucking into you hard. Deep and calculated - measured thrusts that force you grind into the bed chasing the friction of your clit. Your legs kicking up from the pleasure, just crushed by the weight of him. Limp and spent from being strung out so far and simply taking what Zayne is giving you. He likes being able to feel you pressed, pinned underneath him. Crowding into your space with his chin at your shoulder, kissing the side of your neck and wherever else he can reach.

Zayne could cum any second. He’s holding out until he feels that delicious squeeze that tells him you’re getting close again.

It doesn’t take long. Each inch of his cock ravaging your insides, dragging against your walls on each thrust combined with all the sensitivity has you babbling within minutes.

You pick your head up just to beg him for it, but Zayne doesn’t even give you a chance to speak. He can feel it while you’re wrapped around him, pussy trembling around the length of his cock - short panting breaths. He knows you’re close before you do.

A hand cups your jaw as he whispers into your ear.

“Cum.”

You cum just like that, as if on command - your entire body seizing. Every muscle taut like a bowstrong. Your hands reach back for his arm - the one he’s leaning on. Nails digging into his forearms, you cum so intensely you gasp.

“Zayne, zayne, oh fuck - fuck, please,”

Zayne barely gets a breath before he’s following after you. He cums hard. The load is so thick it feels delayed even as he nestles himself deep into your cunt to finish. It goes on forever until it’s spill into you and clinging around the tip of his cock.

The both of you lay there spent for a short while before you blink, lazily - and turn your gaze towards him from over your shoulder.

“More?”

Zayne laughs a tired, delirious laugh.

“Anything for you,”

You have sex until evening.

Zayne doesn’t remember the last time you went at it like that. An anniversary he thinks, or some kind of special occasion. You haven’t had that much time. But two days off in a row was still good enough to have you rest.

It felt necessary, in a way. Being so wrapped up in each other, a good reminder of your trust in each other. A good way for Zayne to cradle you. Carve the notion into you that all he ever wants to do is ease your burden and improve your life rather then make it harder. In between raw sexual desire and somewhat crass display of pent-up lust, is tucked a few years worth of loving.

Zayne can only desire you this much because he knows you so well.

After cleaning you up a bit, he let you lay and catch your breath while he went to run a nice bath with your good products, make you a cup of tea, and order takeout. You managed to not to pass out in the mean time which he’s thankful for - as it made the cleaning up much easier.

The both of you now settle into the warm, soapy water - only after Zayne showers with you too. To get you properly clean and then help you relax.

You sit with him now in the bath water. The pleasant floral scent of jasmine and lavender fills the bathroom, and you rest your head against Zayne’s chest as he sits comfortable behind you. His nose against your wet hair, he breathes you in and places a kiss to your bare shoulder.

You stay like that for a long while until Zayne breaks the ice.

“Is now an okay time to talk?”

You stiffen, briefly - dragging Zaynes hand into your lap and playing with his fingers.

“Mm. Yeah,”

Zayne waits for you. Patient and prudent.

You sigh a little, head drooping down.

“It’s not even—it’s just a work thing. There’s been an ongoing investigation about a group of Hunter’s from a different association. A Special Ops Unit that dissolved right before a series of protocore related incidents. Dissolved offiically but really more like completely disappeared. The problem itself isn’t really the investigation, but the team we’re working with. We’re collaborating with another association and those fucking,” Anger rises in your voice in a way that makes Zayne laugh lightly. You splash the water, taking a deep breath, pressing your thumb lightly into his wrist to distract yourself. “They’re incredibly incompetent and very combative. It’s been a huge pain to work with them, both tactically and on paper.”

“It sounds incredibly frustrating.”

You sigh.

“It has been. One of the guys from the other association is an enormous jackass. He hasn’t done anything I can document on paper and submit to HR as harassment of evidence - but he’s bane of my existence. He’s actively getting in the way of investigation and he’s dead set on specifically scrutinizing my work. It’s been driving me up a wall.” You say, scrubbing your face. Zayne nuzzles into you sympathetically. “Normally I’d just report him immediately, or beat the shit out of him while we spar or something. But,”

You take a deep breath.

“If you need to stop here for because of disclosure or something of that nature, I understand,”

You shake your head. “No, it’s—I haven’t been able to bring it up to anyone, but I think he’s played a role in the sudden disappearance. I don’t have any strong evidence to corroborate this. It’s just a gut feeling. Because of that, I also haven’t been able to bring it up to anyone either. We are constantly squabbling in the office. I worry if I mention it without something stronger to back me up - it’s going to look like I’m making a serious accusation over office politics and I just—”

“It’s alright, my love. Just listening to you now is enough to make me exhausted. I can’t imagine what it’s been like living through it,”

You sniffle, suddenly exhausted. Your voice cracks. “It’s been driving me nuts. I know it’ll blow over eventually one way or another, but it’s been such a constant burden. I kill Wanderers. This weird corporate charade is too much for me. It got to the point where just the mention of it was enough to make my blood boil.” You say, sighing. You turn your head and give him a small smile. “I’m really sorry for taking it out on you. It was almost too frustrating and too heavy to talk about - and you already have a lot on your plate so I wanted to just resolve it quickly. But I ended up making you worry and being unfair. I didn’t even realize how bad it’d gotten,”

Zayne shakes his head. “It’s not as if I was angry with you at any point. Really. It’s so unlike you being that irritable, I was mostly just concerned. So don’t beat yourself up over it. If I couldn’t handle such mild tantrums, what kind of lover would I be?”

You scowl at him, smiling betraying your features. Zayne just laughs.

“I’m truly not angry so don’t beat yourself up over it. I do wish though you would depend on me more when you need it. Even if it’s just to vent. We’re partners right?”

You nod. “…Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s really alright. Though I suppose I might’ve seemed angry or given that impression based on… earlier affairs,”

You laugh. It’s a beautiful, lovely little sound. Like a wind chime. He’s happy to hear it.

“Wait actually, I would like to talk about that. What was that?”

Zayne’s turn to blush. He clears his throat.

“Well… I was worried about you and I wanted to do something for you, somehow. After some thinking, I thought you would need some kind of strong emotional release. I considered going to take you to see the penguins and seals—“

You interrupt him. “Oh, I would’ve sobbed like a baby,”

“Right, exactly. But I sat on it for a while and felt like it wouldn’t be enough to break you out of your shell. And then I remembered we talked about this once a long time ago. So, I did some research and thought this would work out best,”

You smile up at him. “You had a hypothesis didn’t you? Lay it on me, doc. What were you theorizing in that brain of yours that led you here?”

“Well… sex is a good avenue for emotional and physical release. I thought the spanking aspect and ‘punishing’ you would help absolve some of your guilt as well. So at the time, it made the most sense to me.”

You laugh under your breath. “You know me so well, huh? It worked great, actually. Better than I thought it would. And it was super hot when you were being all strict with me,”

Zayne laughs. “I was worried about being so harsh but you really enjoyed yourself,”

“I did. It felt good but after the crying, I just felt sort of floaty and drunk and pleasant. Like a weight lifted. Haven’t been in subspace like that in a while, but I felt really good.”

He smiles. “That’s what I was hoping for,”

“You’re so smart,” You praise, voice cooing and cloying. “Thanks for fixing me up, doc. I’m really indebted to you. I wonder if I’d be doing myself a disserivce to be all honest. It’d be a shame if I never got to see you like that again,”

Zayne murmurs against your skin, smiling. “I could always punish you for doing less,”

You grin at him. “See, that sounds wonderful.”

Zayne gives you a kiss on the top of your head. You look back up at him warmly.

“Thanks for thinking of me so much. And being so good to me,” You say, almost shy. “Means a lot,”

Zayne has a million things he thinks of saying. That he’d do anything for you. Ultimately he settles on what he thinks most often.

“Of course. Anything to make it all better, yes?”

#zayne x reader #zayne smut #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace smut #writing tag #WHERE long;#lnds x reader #lnds smut #idk what else to tag this with actually

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rafesbabyg1rl · 7 months ago

Text

Private Session

Part one, Part Two , Part Three

Summary: Rafe likes to watch reader while she works as a stripper. He asks for a private session in which he'll pay a large amount for her time. Rafe takes her home and uses her however he pleases.

Pairings: Stripper!Reader X obsessive!Rafe

Warnings: Rafe is obsessive of reader. Reader is a stripper. Mention of drugs (Rafe does coke), Rafe's an ass, choking, p in v, unprotected sex, bondage, language, slight degradation, slight praise, oral (both m and f receiving), fingering. SMUT SMUT SMUT!

Word Count: 5.9k

Author Note: Hey babes! I got this idea from this GIF , like just imagine he's sitting in the strip club throwing dollar bills at you like that. UGH I need him so bad. But anyways, this fic is NOT fully proofread for errors, and I was a little fried while writing this and it's literally almost 3 am right now, but I wanted to get this posted. If you see any errors please feel free to correct me kindly! Thanks!

I promise I will work on The Watcher; I just got a bit stuck. Thank you guys for reading, I hope you enjoy! I love you all and stay freaky!

Credits: GIF from this post

You don’t hate your job, but it’s definitely not the most respected profession out there. You can’t really hate the one thing that makes you money, pretty damn good money too. What can you say, you’re good at your job. You do however hate the assholes who come in nearly every night just to get on your nerves, well more like asshole.

Rafe Cameron loves to come in and watch you. He’ll stare for hours, just admiring you. Sometimes he’s with a few other guys from figure eight, but usually comes in alone. Honestly it’s when he comes in alone that he’s really bad. Since he can direct all his focus on you shamelessly. Rafe’s especially awnry when Barry, your boss, comes to hang out with him. Your boss is normally quite fair when it comes to his dancers; always making sure they’re not being mistreated by customers. But Rafe? Rafe has a free pass to do whatever the hell he wants to whoever. And unluckily for you, you seem to be the only one of Barry’s girls that he’s interested in. He never does so much as look at any of the other dancers when you’re around, he only cares about you. You thought it was flattering at first, but now it’s just weird.

When you see him come in tonight you sigh, still keeping up your performance on stage. God, it’s definitely going to be a long night. You’ve already had enough crap for the day, now for Rafe Cameron to waltz into the club when you’re only halfway through your shift, this is just great. God must really have it out for you.

Rafe hadn’t known you were working tonight, so he’s pleasantly surprised when he sees you on your stage as he walks to the back room to find Barry. Once he disappears into the back room with Barry, you forget about him and continue on with your routine per usual.

A while later, you see Rafe finally emerging from the back room, making his way back through the crowd of horny, drunk men and topless women. You see him shove a small bag into his pocket as he walks into view. His demeanor is different now; even cockier than before, if that’s possible. And his eyes are bloodshot, pupils extremely dilated.

Just keep walking. You think to yourself as you collect bills from your stage floor. Just keep walking.

But of course, Rafe stops near the front end of your stage, taking a seat. He gets comfortable, slouching back in his chair, his legs spread wide and his arms crossed over his chest as he stares up at you.

You try not to let your annoyance show as you continue dancing. Rafe watches you silently; occasionally tossing $1’s and $5’s onto the stage; only sticking to the small bills for now. Not because he’s cheap, but because he likes to take his time; build it up over time. He only throws a few at a time, so he can watch you bend over and pick up the cash however many times he wants.

You lean down to pick up the newest bills he just tossed down for you. You look at him, flashing him a flirty smile as you do with all paying customers. He shoves his wallet back into his jeans and looks up, making eye contact with you. He flashes a smirk that’s almost…charming? But, you know better than to fall for that. No matter how pretty he is, you know better.

A bit later, you take a short break from the pole to make your rounds around the club and see if you have any customers interested in your services. You hate it when it’s busy. Well, stripper you loves it when it’s busy because it means more money. But you, you hate the loud crowds of drunken perverts and frat boys; you felt so exposed. Which, you should because you’re hardly wearing anything. But, you just feel too vulnerable. You liked the calmer nights when the crowd was smaller; you feel more in control that way. And fuck is it packed tonight. You can barely move through the people, and you can hardly hear anything besides the loud music and obnoxious cat calls. This is why you don’t usually work on saturday nights; you’re just doing one of the other girls a favor and covering her shift.

Accidentally, you bump your shoulder into somebody while on your way back to the stage. You don’t think anything of it and just keep walking until you feel a hand on your wrist. Immediately you turn back, pulling your wrist away. You’re not surprised to find that it was Rafe you had bumped into you.

“Hey, y’think I can get a private show?” He asks, his emotions unclear as he steps closer so he can hear you.

“Sorry sir, no rooms are available.” You say with a sensual laugh and a bright smile, no matter how badly you want to just roll your eyes and walk away. But you can’t. You must remain professional. Rafe bites his lip, taking yet another step closer. He leans in to whisper into your ear.

“That’s not what I mean.” He keeps his mouth next to your ear.” You can hear his breathing as you think of a response.

“Can’t, sorry. I don’t do that, I’m not a fucking hooker.” You bite back, beginning to walk away again.

But Rafe quickly retorts, “doesn’t matter, both mean you’re just a fucking slut. Fuckin’ whore.” He spits. He tries to grab your wrist again and fails, grabbing your hand instead. He lets out a jagged breath, tugging you closer. “Come on. I’ll give you one thousand for two hours.” You’re shocked at his generosity, but like you said, you’re not a hooker. You don’t sell that part of you. Especially not to this asshole.

You don’t get the chance to respond before Barry is walking over to the two of you. “There a problem?” You sigh a breath of relief when Rafe drops your hand. But when you look at Barry, you realize he’s not asking you.

“Yeah, this fuckin’ bitch don’t know how to listen.” Rafe gestures to you.

Barry nods, taking in Rafe’s words. He steps over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and leading you a few steps away to talk to you. “What's he want?” Your boss asks, trying to gauge the situation. It doesn’t help that he’s also been doing some lines in the back room.

“He wants to take me home. I told him I’m not a hooker.” You explain, hoping he’ll side with you.

“Well maybe for tonight you are. You know why that is, sweetheart?”

You look down as you speak. “‘Cause we listen to what Mr. Cameron says.” You recite his rule.

“One night, just go with him. I bet he’ll pay big.” Barry pleads, not really giving you much option.

You argue, “Yeah, and you’re just gonna take 50%.”

“How ‘bout this. You listenin’?” You nod, looking up at him as he speaks. “You do this, you get to keep 75%.”

You think for a moment before responding. “Seventy-five percent of all my earnings.” You demand, causing Barry to chuckle.

Barry knows you’re stubborn, and he knows he can’t legally force you to go with Rafe. So hesitantly, he gives in and accepts your deal. “Fine, fine ‘aight, seventy-five percent of everything you make.”

You reach out to shake his hand. He holds onto it for a moment longer than is necessary, looking into your eyes, smiling a grimy smile; his gold tooth shining as the low club lighting hits it just right. “Now go get to fuckin’”, he laughs, letting go of your hand. You roll your eyes and as you turn your back to him he gives you a slight nudge back towards Rafe’s direction.

Re-approaching Rafe, you compose yourself. “One thousand for one hour.” You negotiate, your expression making it clear that you won’t be taking no for an answer. You know he has the money, and he’s clearly willing to spend it on you.

Rafe takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, attempting to contain his amused smile. “That wasn’t the deal.” He takes a step towards you. Your demanding expression doesn’t falter as you continue to stare at him silently. He huffs out a chuckle, nodding his head and licking his bottom lip. “Okay, fine. One thousand for one hour of your time. But, anything that goes over an hour is free. And trust me, you’re gonna be begging for more.”

“Right, sure I will.” You say sarcastically.

Rafe ignores your words. “So do we have a deal?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Deal.”

Rafe wastes no time in taking your hand, leading you to the back room. You pass by the private rooms, seeing that one had opened up. You stop walking, making Rafe look back at you with a confused expression, waiting for your reason.

“There’s a room open…” You speak, looking over at the open door.

“I already told you, not here. That’s not what I’m paying for.” Rafe turns, pulling you behind him. He leads you into the back room, waiting for you to get your stuff from your locker. You slip some clothes over your lingerie, not wanting to go outside nearly naked. After grabbing your bag, you follow Rafe out the back door and to his truck.

His demeanor seems to be more neutral now, rather than being plain mean. Nervously on the drive over to figure eight, you spew out words. “I don’t usually do this.” You say, looking over at Rafe. Rafe doesn’t bother looking at you, he just stares straight out at the road in front of him. You can tell he doesn’t believe you. “Really. I never go home with random guys like this. I never even have se–”. You cut yourself off, already having spilt too much. You curse yourself.

When you’re working, you can keep a strong, dominant attitude and be more confident because it’s all just a part of your character. You can be anyone on stage, you don’t have to be yourself. But as soon as you’re outside of the club, you’re just an anxious fucking mess. Which probably has to do with why you hardly have a sex life.

Rafe looks over to you, occasionally glancing back out at the road. His expression almost makes it seem like he’s actually listening to you; like he cares. You shake that thought out of your head and try to remind yourself that he doesn’t care about what you’re saying, he’s just paying you for sex.

“Wait, so you’re saying that you’re a stripper and a virgin?” He asks, his eyes narrow with confusion, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You laugh. “No! I never said I was a virgin.” You explain.

Rafe smiles when he hears you laugh, not being able to keep his eyes off of your beautiful smile. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you laugh before. A real laugh, not the fake, flirty ones you flash to the guys at the club while working. It’s one of the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard.

“So, what then?” He genuinely asks. You’re shocked with the amount of effort he seems to be putting into this conversation, you never took him for much of a talker.

“I don’t know…I just don’t get many chances I guess.” You say honestly, unsure why you’re sharing this with him of all people. You hate him.

“Bullshit.” Adds Rafe. “You’re a stripper.”

“Okay yeah, I’m a stripper, but that’s ‘cause I need the money. I don’t go home with the guys from the club, well…usually.” You pause for a moment. “...that’s just my job. Outside of the club I get to be myself…and I don’t know, it’s just different.”

“You’re afraid people won’t like who you really are?” His words take you by surprise, making your words get stuck in your throat.

You eventually manage to choke out a response. “Yeah, I…I guess so.” Rafe just nods. Not wanting to admit it, but he gets what you mean. You both sit in a comfortable silence the rest of the way to his place.

Arriving at Tanneyhill, Rafe parks the truck in his driveway and he quickly hops out, rounding the front of the truck and opening your door, allowing you to step out. He leads you up to the front door, grabbing his keys from his pocket and unlocking it, following you inside before shutting the door behind you two.

You take a few steps down the hall, observing the room around you. Now that you’re seeing his home, you wish you tried to get even more money out of him. “C’mon”, he mumbles from behind you. Rafe grabs your duffel bag from you and walks in front of you, leading you upstairs to his bedroom. He sets the bag on a small couch in his room, turning around to look at you. He looks you up and down, admiring your body. His skin crawls with anticipation of what’s to come. He’s finally gonna get to do all the things he’s been dying to do to you since the first time he saw you at the club.

Rafe moves to sit on the bed, patting his lap without saying another word. You know what he wants. Slowly you make your way over to him, straddling his lap so that you’re facing him; your knees on the bed on either side of his legs. For a brief moment, you both stare at each other, getting momentarily lost in one another’s eyes.

Carefully he places his hand on your face, cupping your jaw. His movements are slow and calculated as he leans in, enveloping your lips with his own. The kiss is slow and tender, everything you weren’t expecting.

You pull back just enough to look over at the clock on his nightstand, noting the time in your head. You breathlessly mutter to him, “your hour starts now.” You can see him staring at your lips and without warning he leans in, kissing you. This time, he’s not being so gentle.

Things escalate quickly; clearly he doesn’t want to waste any time with you. Rafe stands up, holding you while not breaking the kiss, he turns the two of you around and lays you on your back, crawling over you. His lips leave yours as he starts to kiss and suck at your neck, eventually finding your ear. Rafe takes your ear between his teeth, gently nipping at it. The feeling of his teeth grazing your skin sends a chill throughout your body.

He gently whispers, “I’m gonna do what I want, but you just tell me if it’s too much, alright? Let me know if you want me to stop.” He presses a soft kiss to your ear as you nod.

“Mhm.” You mumble, acknowledging his words.

“No.” He shakes his head, “Say it.”

You oblige, looking at him as you speak. “I’ll tell you to stop if I need to.”

Rafe smirks. “Good girl.” He wastes no time before his lips come crashing onto yours again; somehow even more passionately than the last.

A soft moan escapes your lips, only making him get even rougher. He kisses you sloppily, his tongue making sure to explore every bit of your mouth. He hovers over you, one hand pressing into the mattress beside your head, holding himself up. And with his free hand, he begins to slide off your shirt.

You try to help him get you out of your shirt by maneuvering yourself around as best you can underneath him. Once your shirt is off, very little is left to the imagination in your work top, which is just a very lacy piece of lingerie. His hand then works at the button on your shorts, once he’s got that undone he starts tugging them off of you, tossing it to his floor. Once you’re in your little work ‘outfit’, he takes a moment to admire you up close.

He’s seen you in skimpy little things like this before, he needs to see the rest of you; all of you. He starts to try and get you out of your lingerie, but there’s too many straps and clips, he can’t get you out of it quick enough. He starts to get frustrated, pausing your kiss as he leans back trying to get a good look at what he’s working with. Rafe’s impatience gets to him and he mumbles a quick “fuck this” just before ripping the thin fabric right off of you.

You let out an involuntary gasp, causing him to look at your face which has an annoyed expression. This was one of your new outfits for work and he just ruined it.

He leans in and presses a soft, wet kiss to your slightly parted lips. “Calm down, I’ll pay for it.” You don’t get a change to respond before he’s pulling the damaged fabric off of you, tossing it onto the floor as well. “Fuuckk, baby.” He mutters, running his free hand down your bare skin, tracing the shape of you as he admires your bare body. “Oh my god,” he whispers, almost inaudibly. “So fucking beautiful.” His mouth finds your chest, immediately latching onto one of your nipples; he sucks at it until he eventually pulls off to give attention to your other breast. His eyes are trained up on you, watching as your head tilts back in pleasure.

Rafe pulls his mouth off with a pop! He stands up from the bed, walking over to his dresser. He opens up the top drawer, taking something out and coming back to you. You see a bundle of rope in his hands, your eyes widen in surprise. You hadn’t expected to be into all that. He really had this planned out. Your excitement builds; the wetness between your legs growing. Rafe sees the thoughts going on in your head.

He tries to reassure you, “relax, it’s fine, m’gonna take real good care of you baby.” He instructs you to scoot up towards the headboard of his bed. Quickly and skillfully, he ties your wrists to the bed, making sure it’s not tight enough to cause pain and not loose enough for you to slip out. You’re not sure how you feel about being tied up and against your will, it definitely leaves you very vulnerable; very out of control. However, for some reason you feel like you can almost trust him. Because so far, since leaving the club, he’s been very tentative and reassuring, even gentle at times. Which is not at all what you had expected from Rafe Cameron.

Soon, his mouth is on you, his tongue lapping up your arousal. You struggle against your restraints, feeling like you need to grip onto something. Your hips try to run from him, only causing him to grab ahold of your thighs, keeping you in place.

“F-fuuck…” You whine.

Rafe mumbles against your cunt and you can feel the vibrations in your core. As his tongue fucks you ruthlessly, you find it hard to keep quiet, a sea of moans escaping from your lips.

“Feel good, hm? You like that?” You pout at the loss of his mouth on you, causing him to chuckle before resuming his actions. His tongue circles your clit, only stopping to suck on it. The heat is building in your lower stomach, almost getting unbearable.

“Ohhh…shitshitshitshitshit” You almost scream. “Fuck! Oh fuck Rafe. Please, please don’t…don’t stop.” Rafe pulls back, “told you you’d be begging.” Your hips buck up, chasing after his mouth, missing the feeling of his tongue. But ultimately, Rafe obeys, his mouth continuing its ministations on you. He adds a finger to the mix, slowly tracing up and down your entrance as he sucks at your clit. He slides his long digit inside of you without warning, thrusting it in and out, curling it up to hit the spongy spot deep inside you. “Fuck,” You cry. “I…fuck. G-gonna cum, Rafe!” Your wrists tug against the rope; hurting just a bit, making you whimper in pain. Though you’re distracted by the feeling of your orgasm creeping in.

Rafe hears your cry and he can tell it’s different from your other moans. His head snaps up from between your legs, making you miss his warm, wet mouth on you. He continues his earlier actions, adding a second finger in you, trying to stretch you out as much as he can; to prepare you for him. Your legs wrap around his head as the barrier in your stomach finally breaks, letting your excruciatingly good orgasm wash over you.

He slowly works you down from your high, pulling his fingers out from you, making you squeeze around nothing, your body hating the absence of him. His tongue continues to lap up all your juices. Then he begins to kiss his way back up your body. When he meets your lips, he kisses you tenderly again, letting you taste yourself on his lips. While kissing you, his hands work on freeing your wrists. He sees the red marks they had left, feeling proud yet also feeling a bit bad for causing you pain. “You did so good…” He praises.

You tug his shirt up over his head and run your hands down his toned chest, still attempting to catch your breath from earlier. Then you work at his belt, tossing it aside and pulling off his pants, also tossing them aside. Now that he’s left in just his boxers, you sit up. You get Rafe to lay down where you had been. Using the same rope to tie his wrists to the bed; though you’re not too confident in your knot-tying abilities and you’re unsure if it’ll be able to contain him.

“W-what are you doing?” He asks almost nervously. Rafe hadn’t been expecting for you to take charge of him, usually that doesn’t happen to him. He pulls against his restraints a bit, quickly finding out the pain that comes with.

“Shh…relax, it’s fine.” You recite to him. He smirks, recognizing his own words.

“Fuckin’ brat.” He spits, trying to seem upset, although he really just thinks it’s the hottest fucking thing ever.

You travel down his body, straddling his legs as you start to slowly pull his boxers off of him. Rafe’s hard cock springs out, shooting up into the air. You gasp at the sight. You can see why he’s always so cocky now, it’s because he’s got the means to back it up.

Your hands find him, gently stroking his cock. Rafe’s head tips back, his eyes shutting in pleasure for a moment. Quickly, he’s watching you again, not wanting to miss the sight of this. Slowly, you put your mouth onto him. Rafe tries to remain in control by bucking his hips up off the bed, shoving his cock deep down your throat, making you gag in response. You pull off of him for a moment and he chuckles. Knowing he has a limited time with you, you don’t wait too long before sinking your mouth back down on him. As your confidence builds, so does your pace.

“Shiiitt baby, feels so fucking good.” He groans. Already, you can feel his dick twitching in your mouth, causing him to whine. Big, tough Rafe Cameron whining underneath you, completely at your mercy. He doesn’t seem so threatening now that you’ve seen him like this. “W-wait, wait baby, wait.” He manages, his words just spilling out. He struggles against his restraints some more before continuing. “Not yet; I don’t wanna cum yet.” You understand, pulling your mouth off of him. You move to undo his restraints, his mouth finding your tits as you lean over him to untie the rope.

The second he’s free, you’re already somehow on your back with him on top of you. Rafe leans over you and you press open-mouthed, wet kisses all across his chest as he does so. He grabs something from his nightstand and when he pulls back you can see the small, shiny wrapper in his hand. Smart, a condom. You hadn’t even thought of that, but it was probably a good idea.

You place your hands over his, taking the condom from him. As fast as you can, you open it and reach down between you two, rolling it onto his cock until it reaches the base. He leans back down on top of you, kissing your neck and jaw. He whispers, “can I?”

You respond jokingly, “that’s what you’re paying for, isn’t it?” Rafe just stares at you, his expression showing his annoyance and frustration with you. Before he asks you to ‘say it’, you add to your previous statement. “Yes, Rafe. Fuck me.”

Rafe doesn’t need any further permission as he lines himself up with your cunt. He wishes he could feel your wetness on his skin, but he knew wearing a condom was the smart thing. Slowly, he presses in. Only entering you about two inches, letting you adjust to him before adding a few more inches. Slowly; inch by inch, Rafe enters you, eventually bottoming out. Rafe stays still for a couple moments until you give him a small nod. He moves his hips slowly, rocking in and out of you at a comfortable pace. Your hands wrap around him, hooking underneath his biceps. Your palms grip onto his back, your nails only slightly digging into his skin. His pace begins to pick up, getting loud moans and whines to come from you.

“Mmmnn…nnhhgghh f-fuuckk, Rafe!” You cry out, a tear rolling down your cheek.

The sight of your tear only turns him on more, in a dark and twisted way. He uses his thumb to wipe away your warm, salty tear off of your cheek.

Despite his gentle touch, Rafe is now drilling into you without regard for your poor cunt. Shamelessly fucking you with a condom on. He looks at the sticky, white mess leaking from your perfect cunt; creating a slick film that coats his entire cock. He reaches out to grab you by your hair, forcing your neck down so that you’re looking at where you and him connect, “See that? That’s all you baby.”

When you’re greeted with the sight of his entire length buried deep inside of you, your eyes begin to roll back as your next orgasm approaches. Rafe clicks his tongue at you, pulling entirely out of you. After a few moments without him inside of you, you immediately start to pout. A whine escapes your lips, “Rafe…”, your hips buck up, as if trying to draw his attention back to your needy cunt.

A small, cocky grin spreads across his face at the sight. His grip tightens in your hair as he begins to tug, directing your gaze right where he wants it, on him. “You gotta fuckin’ see this, baby.” Rafe says proudly, looking back down at your messy pussy. Quickly, he thrusts back into you with force and you watch as your cunt swallows him whole. “See that? See what you do for me?” Rafe speaks in a tone that sounds as though he’s praising you, but he knows that your body has no other option than to take him. “See how fuckin’ well you take me? This pussy was fuckin’ made for my cock.”

Rafe groans, pre-cum now leaking into the condom as his pace becomes sporadic. Still going through the aftershocks of your most recent orgasm, your cunt continues to squeeze tightly around him.

“Holy f-fuck.” Rafe stutters, his fingers moving to your clit, rubbing it in circles. His movements are getting sloppy, arithmetic as he tries to draw another orgasm from you before he finishes. “God fucking damn.” Rafe’s head tips back, you lean up to kiss his neck, occasionally nipping at it, your moans being muffled by him.

Your third orgasm approaches, your entire body trembling as you shriek. “Rafe! Fuck, fuck, I-fuck!” Your screams become muted when he kisses you, shutting you up. Rafe’s own orgasm starts to creep in, his thrusts getting harder for a moment before he stills inside of you. You can feel his cock twitch, followed by the feeling of his hot cum as it fills the condom. He slowly moves, easing you both back down from your highs. Eventually, he pulls out of you, rolling off to the side and laying on his back beside you.

You work on catching your breath as you turn your head to look over at the time; you have about fifteen minutes left with him. You don’t know what he has in store for you now, he’s already succeeded in making you cum three times within forty-five minutes. While he takes a moment to rest, you decide to get on top of him. You pull off his condom, tying the end of it in a knot. Without giving him any kind of warning, you put your mouth back on him, sucking his warm, sticky seed off of his dick. One of his large hands shoots up to hold the back of your head, pushing your mouth all the way down on him. You can feel his semi-hard cock already growing harder again.

“S-shit, babe.” He groans, pulling you up, bringing your face to his and meeting you with another kiss, as if to thank you.

You stand up, your legs shaky. You half walk, half stumble into the adjoining bathroom, tossing the condom in the trash. You make your way back to the bed, laying next to him. You turn your head to look at him. “What else can I do for you? Time’s almost up.” You ask softly.

Rafe huffs, pissed off that you had to remind him that this isn’t real, he’s paying for this, for you. Without a word, he flips over on top of you, his hand wrapping around your throat. There’s something different about him now. His eyes; they carry a bit of darkness, his movements now rough and aggressive. He squeezes your neck lightly, making you gasp in surprise. “Rafe…”

“Shhh…you’re gonna take what I give you.” He squeezes tighter, making it harder for you to breathe, but not impossible. He leans down, kissing all over your neck and chest, leaving bites and bruises in his wake. You let out a small whine involuntarily; you can feel his touch throughout your whole body, like a jolt of electricity. “Shut up, whore.”

Suddenly, Rafe’s thrusting into you again. But wait, he’s not wearing a condom. In your surprise, this way feels so much better. You can feel the warmth and smoothness of his cock as it easily slides in and out of you, making the most lewd noises. You try to speak, but his hand tightens around your throat one final time, actually making it impossible for you to breathe. He stares into your eyes, watching as your face turns red and your panic sets in. You put your hands on his arm, hitting and tugging on it. Just as your vision starts to go dark, he eases his grip. You gasp for air, taking in as much as you can while he continues his attack on your pussy.

You’re about to see stars again for the fourth time tonight when he suddenly pulls out of you. You whine at the loss of him, frustrated that he denied you of your orgasm. Rafe rolls off of you, making your brows furrow in confusion. “What the fuck?” You question.

He looks over to the clock on his nightstand and you follow his gaze. “Time’s up.” He says plainly. You knew what he was doing. This sneaky motherfucker. He purposely got you to your climax right as the hour ended so you’d prove him right and beg for more; beg to let you cum one more time. As much as you wanted to prove him wrong and just leave, you need this, you need to feel him fill you up.

Before he can protest, you straddle his lap, sinking yourself down onto his cock. Immediately he groans, taking hold of your hips. He holds you still, not letting you move yet. “Knew you’d want more.” He says, now guiding you to grind on his dick, this new position lets him hit a new depth inside you. “M’not paying for this now.”

You don’t respond, instead using your energy to bounce up and down his length. Your climax is already near, your entire body shaking and spent from the past three orgasms he gave you. Rafe helps you out, his strong hand gripping onto you as he holds you up, drilling up into your cunt at a god-like pace. How is someone this talented, this fucking perfect, paying for sex? Surely he could get any girl he wants. Although you’re not complaining, four orgasms and a thousand dollars? How could it get any better than that?

You yell out as the band in your stomach snaps, the pressure being relieved as a stream of your liquids squirt out of you, splashing onto his stomach, dripping down to his sheets underneath you both. You’re just as shocked as he is when this happens. You didn’t even know you could do that.

“Fuck,” Rafe growls, continuing to fuck up into your shaking body. Rafe doesn’t warn you before shooting his load into you. But the warmth and fulfillment of his seed feels too fucking good to be mad about. Slowly, you pull yourself off of him. He has to help lift you off of his cock since your body is completely spent. “You’re fucking amazing.” He presses a long, soft kiss to your head.

After helping you clean up a bit, you change into your own clothes. Rafe drives you back to the club, the ride awfully quiet, both of you being too exhausted to talk. When you get there, he pulls his wallet out, grabbing out a large wad of cash and handing it to you. You quickly count it, and then recount it, when your results don’t change, you look up at him with furrowed brows. “That’s for being so fucking good.” Rafe had given you two thousand instead of one. This boosts your confidence a bit, an hour of sex with you is worth two thousand dollars? God, you should’ve fucked Rafe sooner. You get out of his truck and walk towards the club. Rafe speeds off out of the parking lot.

It’s late, but Barry’s still here, though the crowd has definitely shrunken in the last hour. You walk in and find Barry in the back room. He laughs as he takes in your disheveled appearance; your hair and makeup are disastrous.

“Looks like someone had a good time, huh? Now where’s my money?” He asks. You pull out the cash, counting 500 and tossing it to him.

“There. That’s seventy-five percent of what I made.” You start to walk out. But his voice calls you back.

“Shit, you made two thousand in one hour just for fuckin’ him? You got some magic fuckin’ pussy or sum?” He laughs. “I might have to start sellin’ you out more, don’t I?”

Too tired to argue, you walk out. You don’t want to admit it, but you wouldn’t hate having to do that again with Rafe, whether it’s paid or unpaid.

Thank you for reading! I greatly appreciate it! PLEASE feel free to leave Rafe x reader requests!! I LOVE getting them!

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cheol-e-kat · 4 months ago

Note

hi! for the bingo card, how about bedsharing + big dick mingyu? maybe mc and mingyu are best friends sharing a bed on a trip, but mingyu gets hard while sleeping. when they both wake up, gyu has morning wood and mc is aroused. what better way to solve the problem than fuck it out?

anon, thanks for submitting this ask - idk why but it just scratched my brain so i kind of went ham on it

♡ kat

pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader

bingo squares: bed sharing + big dick!mingyu

genres: f2l, fluff, one bed, confessions, smut

summary: y/n and mingyu are best friends - they go on a weekend trip, and when there is only one bed in their room, they finally give in to their feelings

word count: 3.1k

rating: NSFW | MDNI

warnings: below cut

oral (m. receiving), penetrative sex, cum eating, deep-throating

the trip to the tiny hotel had been such a nightmare. first, packing for any trip is an anxious activity for you - do you pretend to be the minimalist girlie with one bag (who you know you aren’t), or just be yourself and bring like five bags with all the options. second, it started raining, which was fine until thunder and lightening decided to join in on the game of who can kill y/n’s vibe the fastest. third, you didn’t even know, but you were waiting on tenterhooks to find out, you thought sarcastically as mingyu went to check in and you waited in the car, only jumping once when lightening struck really close.

to be fair, your best friend was the only saving grace so far. if anything, he overlooked your overpacking and reminded you of the things you did actually need, like your toothbrush. and when the weather started to freak you out, he just distracted you by asking about that one guy at work you genuinely can’t stand and what he did that week that basically ruined your life - there were at least fifty things that had made you want to smack the guy.

you watched him pop back out of the cute hotel - it was cute - your mutual friend had picked an extremely charming place for her ‘couples’ camping weekend. when camping started to include hotels, you had no idea, but it was in a little town with mountain views, so whatever. and as always, the fact that you and mingyu were only best friends and not part of an actual couple was never mentioned. you were just lumped together, usually with separate rooms or at least rooms that included two beds, but still. plus, up until a few weeks ago, mingyu had been part of a couple, and you weren’t planning to come this time around.

but that didn’t matter. you carried your own bags, waving him off when he offered help - it was sweet, but he didn’t need to encourage you by lightening your load. the three bags were your problem.

he was definitely a minimalist one bag boy, which you did envy just a bit. but if you were him and could get away with two tshirts and one pair of jeans that looked like…your mind wandered way too freely as you walked behind him, and noticed the way his jeans showed off that he did have a really nice ass.

you blinked your thoughts away quickly as you stepped into the elevator with him and tried to avoid eye contact because you knew you might laugh and give yourself away.

“there’s just one room,” he said as he pushed the button for the fourth floor.

you shrugged, “it is like a smaller place,” you cringed at your lame answer and glanced at the ceiling trying to think about anything besides the fact that you had stared at his ass not two minutes earlier. words like ‘firm’ and ‘tasty’ kept popping into your mind though.

really, he had no business being as handsome as he was. and you had no business thinking about his ass. he was supposed to be here with whatever her name was, and not you.

you needed to get it together, but it never helped that you and mingyu weren’t just best friends. you both had a habit of ping-ponging from one bad relationship to another and always in between were things like this weekend, where you appeared as stand-in dates for one another. or longer periods where you just hung out together, watching movies and ordering food and being very domestic with each other. sometimes, you wondered when it would end, and you would really have to figure out how to make certain dishes for yourself.

you followed him down the hall to room nine and quickly realized what the third bad thing was - there was just one bed. you tried to maintain a straight face because of course there was just one bed - he had been planning to come here with someone he was with. you glanced around, hoping for a sofa or something. you were not sharing a bed with him, that was too much.

but it was a tiny ass, dainty, fucking hotel!! you wanted to scream. because everything was clearly focused on cute and not on practicalities like two people who definitely need two beds for their sanity.

the thing was, you were internally dying, and mingyu was completely zen. like it was just natural that there was one bed. he was already unpacking, even.

and yes, there were things that you had grown used to - yes, he slept in underwear only, which seemed to be a courtesy to you more than anything. and sure, he had no qualms about being shirtless - you had seen him undress way too often actually.

but your brain was virtually desensitized to seeing his body - of course he had a perfect chest and mind boggling abs and arms that could easily fold you like an origami crane - whatever, you were used to those things. but the proximity part? that was - no! you would sleep in the bath tub first. this was the hill you would die on! you were not sharing a bed with him - it wasn’t even a big bed - it was like maybe a full size.

you finished changing in the bathroom and opened the door, knowing you both had skincare routines. and given that there was one sink and one mirror, and your three functioning brain cells were at capacity, you appreciated that he kind of worked around you. but when you slipped past him to get out of the tight space, having only done the bare minimum of moisturizing, you felt bad for being in his way.

you also noticed that he was surprisingly wearing sweats and a tshirt. that was new. or not, he wasn’t the type to make others uncomfortable. if he could wear clothes, then maybe there was some hope, you thought.

and then you tried the mattress. it was insanely lumpy. every spot you tried was lump city.

when you realized he was standing over you, you sat up like you had been caught doing something dirty.

“it’s lumpy,” you said meekly.

he snorted, “is it?”

you nodded.

“it’s not so bad,” he started.

“what? no, it’s a lumpy nightmare,” you had tried every spot.

“i meant us sharing - you’ve been panicking since we came into the room,” he said it so softly.

“oh,” you tried to be calm, but there was nothing past your revelation of ‘oh.’

he watched you blushing slightly, “i kind of forgot about what i booked.”

his voice was weird. he sounded almost nervous, which was weird for the most confident person you knew.

“i mean, it’s fine - totally fine - bro,” you rambled and had possibly never sounded more ridiculous in your life.

he laughed, his cute pointy canines on display, “bro? seriously y/n,” he giggled.

you sighed and moved around to point out where you thought the least lumpy spots were. he hummed in response, joining you on the bed. your stomach leapt into your throat just feeling the bed shift with his added weight.

“so here,” he leaned over you pointing, “and here,” you could hear his teasing tone. at least that was normal.

“i’m being serious,” you gave him a playful shove, “look don’t listen and wake up tomorrow complaining ‘oh y/n my back hurts’ like no, no - i won’t be listening,” you grumbled as he flopped down, his arm sliding around your waist and pulling you close.

“but you always listen to me whine about things,” he pouted.

“yeah, but this is avoidable,” you totally weren’t paying attention to the fact that you were lying on top of him, or that his hands were tracing along your back - this was about mattress integrity.

he nodded, watching you, which was annoying because it always seemed to make you shut up about things somehow. just this persistent, fairly serene way he had of watching you complain about a thing was like if the sun suddenly focused only on you and you just wilted and died.

you sighed, thinking back to. the sharing issue - “yes, it’s basically fine - neither of us will die - and for once you’re actually wearing clothes, which is kind of wild.”

he grinned at that, “i can undress if that’s what you’re getting at,” he raised his eyebrows suggestively - it was more dorky than sexy.

“no, please, i’ve seen enough of your irl underwear model campaigns since we’ve been friends,” you huffed, completely ignoring the way your hands seemed to be busying themselves with smoothing stray hairs from his forehead.

“mmmh, that’s funny.”

your brows knitted together, “why?”

“because you always seem totally unaware of things like that,” he answered flatly.

you couldn’t help that you laughed, almost directly in his face, “sorry,” you started to roll away, but he held you in place.

you laughed again, more from nervousness, “seriously - did you just say ‘i seem unaware’? you saw me looking for the lumpy part of the mattress right?” you knew you sounded offended, but anyone implying that you didn’t pay attention to things around you was an astonishing statement - groundbreaking even.

he nodded, “yeah, but i’m not a lumpy mattress or people at work who annoy you, so,” he trailed off.

“so what?”

“so i assume you don’t pay attention to me quiet like that - i mean i know the color of sweaters people in your hr department wear,” he sounded fully exasperated. which was very different - that he seemed annoyed with you, maybe.

you watched him for a moment, thinking of how to say what you wanted to say, “mingyu, if i told you all the things i notice about you,” — you had no clue where that sentence was headed and could feel maybe all of the blood in your entire body rushing to your face. you were grateful that he cut you off.

“so you do notice me then?”

you blinked slowly, hearing the question in his voice, you nodded - “is there something specific?” you asked earnestly.

“i mean, yeah,” he said it like it was the most obvious thing ever. and he was still watching you in this way that was soft? maybe, you couldn’t put your finger on it. but you were certain your heart was beating way too fast. and that the position you were in, the literal position of you lying on top of him while you chatted about something, was suddenly feeling so familiar it was almost disturbing.

it wasn’t an issue of not noticing - noticing way easy - it was understanding what the thing you noticed meant in context. like yes, you fully knew how fit he was, and you had deep feelings for the cute beauty marks on his nose and cheek. you appreciated all the things he did for you and certainly tried to repay him.

you flexed your hands gently, the pads of your fingers feeling his chest - the room felt so small. if you did the wrong thing, the entire moment would shatter, so instead, you thought of all the cute, sweet things he did, and you did the thing you always wanted to do to say ‘thank you’ but had never tried because he was mingyu and too perfect for you.

you kissed him.

for a second, you thought you had done the wrong thing until he was returning your kiss with his own. his lips were softer than you imagined. you ran your fingers through his hair, rushing to touch him before whatever magical spell came with having one bed wore off.

at least it felt that way until he swapped your positions, and it was him kissing you - your cheeks and forehead, the gentle way his lips brushed against yours that made you moan faintly because being under him, feeling his weight and his hands holding you just where he wanted you so that he could kiss you the way he wanted was beyond your capacity. it was only made worse when you felt his soft exhale against your skin before he fully kissed you.

it went on like that, a slow back and forth of making out and dry humping one another like teenagers. which you didn’t hate in the least. especially when you palmed him through his sweats, feeling just how big his cock was.

“like it?” he asked, whispering against your skin.

you nodded, “i always thought it would be big,” you bit your lip gently, tracing your hand along his clothed shaft, “not this big, but big, veiny, definitely requiring some prep to take, or not if you wanted it rough - exactly the kind of dick you might describe as being ‘impaled’ on,” you smiled, never had you ever imagined you would be telling him your thoughts on his dick.

he laughed softly, “impaled on?” he asked as he sat up.

you nodded, watching him, wondering if his natural competitiveness extended to sex, too. you imagined him doing everything to shove his entire cock into you in one go, no lube. you reached out and snapped the waistband of his underwear gently.

“want help with that? you know, so we can go to sleep,” you offered.

he nodded, letting you move between his legs while he leaned back. you pulled his pants and underwear down and eyed the horse cock you had been palming before.

“think you can take all of it?”

you glanced up at him, seeing the slightly fucked out way he was watching you. you only smiled and leaned close, kissing the base of his cock and licking your way to his leaking tip.

“fuck, y/n, don’t tease,” he whined softly.

you used your hand to guide him where you needed him, and to be fair, you knew you were good at giving blow jobs. but staring down at his dick, you were starting to understand the source of his complaints about never getting good head. his dick was intimidating, but in all fairness, you couldn’t think of anyone else’s dick you would rather choke on.

and since he didn’t want to be teased, you decided not to hide the fact that you could deep-throat. it didn’t mean you didn’t feel tears pricking the edges of your eyes as you took him in, but why not pay him back for all the dinners he had cooked you, or at least a substantial number of them.

your jaw was beyond relaxed by the time you had him all the way in, and even though you could feel his fingers in your hair, he wasn’t applying any downward pressure - you traced the tip of your tongue against the base of cock, just so he knew he was really that deep.

he was mumbling a string of ‘fuck’ and ‘yes’ every five seconds - especially when you started to take him a bit faster, loving the feel of his cock stretching your mouth, even when it started to ache. you wanted him to come, though, so you started teasing his balls too, massaging them and focusing on breathing through your nose.

you felt him pull your hair roughly - you only glanced up at him, and kept sucking him off - you knew he was close. and when he came, the way his cum went down your throat and filled your mouth - you couldn’t help swallowing around him and finally pulling back. it was just so sloppy and good.

you sat back, looking at him for a moment, enjoying his dazed look as you licked your lips, your hands pressing gently into his thighs.

he reached out and caught the front of your tshirt, pulling you down to him - he kissed you delicately for a few minutes before going to the bathroom. you were already half asleep on the least lumpy part of the bed when he came back to curl around you for sleep.

you woke up and immediately knew your legs were tangled with mingyu’s. you stretched a bit and pressed close to him - he pulled you even closer - you heard him mumble something and ‘baby.’ it was cute. he was cute. and you had gone down on him like it was your fucking job the night before. your face flushed, remembering it. there were things that you two didn’t discuss, and while you might know that his biggest wish was for one good blow job - you certainly had no idea about the monster he kept so well hidden in his pants, nor did he have a clue about your dick-sucking abilities.

you shivered happily when you felt him kiss the back of your neck. you turned back and kissed him without a second thought. it was apparently way too easy to end up straddling him, reaching between you to feel his morning wood, stroking him teasingly, smiling when he started to pout.

you leaned down, nuzzling close to him, “it’s not like we have to be anywhere, right?”

he played with your hair, “i’m supposed to play a round of golf later.”

“you and golf kill me,” you mumbled, kissing his throat.

“you could try playing again,” he squeezed your ass roughly, “you’d look so cute in a plaid skirt - i could actually teach you how to swing the right way,” his hands drifted lower to the back of your thighs, “plus i’ve always wanted to fuck on the green.”

you laughed, “this is the fantasy you’re telling me about?”

he shrugged, “i mean, you already made one happen, so why not another?”

you looked down at him, taking in his cute bedhead, “you know we could be fucking right now?”

he nodded, and sighed, “yeah, but i like just hanging out in bed with you too,” he bit his lip gently, watching you.

“but you’re hard,” you whined softly.

making puppy eyes at him definitely worked. you found yourself holding onto the headboard, your back pressed to his chest, while you sat on his cock, he thrusted from below, and reached around to play with your clit. you loved how huge he was and how stretched you were. it was maybe the most pleasant way a person could be ripped in half. you were a mewling mess when you came the first time, and practically gasping for air the second time when he finally came too - his cum filling your pussy entirely, dripping down your thighs even.

it was easy to pass out after, fully knowing he would go play golf and tell everyone you were ‘finally’ dating, as he put it.

a/n: eeee okay, genuinely hope you like this - i know it's maybe longer than expected but i really liked them ;-;

bingo card master list

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seungcheol & mingyu threesome: oral |

tag list: @syluslittlecrow ☁︎ @gyuguys ☁︎ @haik-chu ☁︎ @tinyelfperson

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olderthannetfic · 6 months ago

Note

For AO3 readers, MUTING is the solution to a problem they may not have come across yet.

I just thought of an extremely functional solution for a problem with AI fanfiction that a friend of mine shared her worries about. You see, she was particularly worried that her experience as a browser and reader of fanfiction will start to decline as AI fanfiction starts clogging the Sort By Recent filter on AO3.

Ok, so it didn't occur to me right away, and that is why I think it justifies this long anon post, but I just remembered that AO3 already has a tool to help you weed out low effort sludge that I have successfully used even prior to the increase in AI works. It does require people to be logged in though.

The solution is Muting, which has been around since 2023. I've even used it before for specifically this precise problem. There is a particular rare pair I like, but the primary producer of fics for that pair is one very prolific author whose fics are egregiously low quality. Like, the author even admitted that she frequently just find and replaces the names of the characters when she moves on to a new fandom.

After muting her, it about halved the number of fics in that tag, which was great, because it relieved me of an irritation and also allowed me to find other works. Muting folk who post AI generated works will have the same effect.

Why this will work: The main problem with AI fics is not that they are low quality, after all low quality fics have always existed - it's that they are both low quality and trivial to produce. Therefore, even one person who feels entitled to produce ai fanfiction could easily flood any particular tag with their works. But each time you mute an ai producer for one bad fic, you will end up removing all of their fics from your view, in any of your tags and fandoms. With a little weeding and upkeep, you should be able to browse contentedly as you always have.

Problem: Not all AI fics are tagged as such. How do you tell if a fic is AI?

The hallmark of a fanfiction author who generates stories with AI will be that they are prolific producers of low quality works. Why? because generating stories with ai is easy. It is much easier to generate a bad story with AI than it is to write a bad story without it. Therefore a person who uses AI to generate fics will have a lot of works.

The problem of false positives. What if you mute an author who is just bad right now but could improve?

My friend, if a person is already a prolific author of bad quality fiction, and they haven't gotten better yet, they probably will not improve to your standards ever. So you haven't lost anything by muting them. The goal here isn't to name and blame people who use AI - it's to make your own personal browsing experience better.

The problem of false negatives: What if you read a story and didn't realize it was generated using AI because it was good and you enjoyed it? You read something that you enjoyed on AO3 for free. This is not a problem.

You can find the mute button on AO3 by clicking the authors name. It will be in the same line as subscribe and block.

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hellspawnmotel · 15 days ago

Note

Last question you might for now but how do you now feel about Toriel and Asgore as characters? Asking now cause with Toriel, there’s some now some heated debate about her being a bad mother and even person, mostly stemming from that jitterbug scene which some people see as confirmation of what was implied about her and Kris relationship in the first 2 chapters and with Asgore, there’s many (including myself) that believe he might actually join us in a dw next chapter, mostly due to the line Gerso said chapter 5 being about “a garden charred by an inferno of jealousy”, which, given the current situation with Asgore and Toriel and her blossoming relationship with Sans, seems to track pretty much.

All I can say about this personally is that I hope we get more development on the dreamurr adults from now on, especially my poor boy Asgore, since I’ve always wished to get a lot more development of him ever since he was kinda pushed aside in UT in terms of that and also cause I don’t want to remain a punching bag character in DR either. What you say?

this is a really interesting topic so I’m glad to have an opportunity to talk about it. I think the main problem we’re facing here is that, as fandom tends to do, there’s this all-or-nothing approach to how we view characters, especially women. they’re either Good or they’re Bad. the good ones deserve sympathy and the bad ones deserve scorn. so people are currently trying to fit toriel into that dichotomy

to start, no I do not think toriel is a bad person lmao. I also disagree that she’s overall a bad mother- who gets to decide where that line is, anyway? what I do think is that what she did in this instance was extremely irresponsible and speaks to the biggest issue plaguing the dreemurr family: a lack of understanding and communication. kris is unable to communicate what they’re going through, and toriel is unable to understand their feelings. she clearly deeply loves her child and wants them to be happy, and tries her best to make that so. but toriel is still a person with feelings of her own, and I think how she feels about asgore has formed a barrier between her and kris.

we have to remember that toriel is still going through what seems like an EXTREMELY messy divorce. she wants to move on, and she probably could have by now, but her ex follows her around and hounds her with romantic gestures every single day. she must be stressed and exhausted. from her perspective she just wants asgore to leave her alone already and stop interrupting her life, and I’m sure that makes it difficult for her to sympathize with kris, who still loves their father. when we see somebody as a bad, hurtful person, it can become really hard to understand the feelings of those who care about them. it’s not that she doesn’t care about kris’s feelings, it’s more likely she just doesn’t recognize them in the first place.

toriel must have felt so free for the first time in ages to just be dancing and goofing around with a new (most likely much younger) man. that doesnt excuse the fact that she never told kris where she was, and didn’t bother checking up on them in turn, and instead got so drunk she forgot or stopped caring about her responsibilities and really upset kris and susie. but it does help us understand why she would do something like that. I don’t think we can fairly cast judgement on toriel’s overall character based on this incident, all we can do is cast judgement on these specific actions.

moving onto asgore- I can’t lie, I’m not happy with the guy. he’s literally harassing his ex-wife and doing it in front of their child, sometimes even using kris as an unwilling agent in his plans. but I’m sure that’s not at all how he sees it. from his perspective, if he can just convince toriel that whatever Happened wasn’t his fault, or was justified, then they’ll get back together and everything will go back to the way it was. and he thinks that to convince her he needs to get her to sit down and talk to him, and he thinks that to do that he needs to woo her and remind her of her old love for him. these are not malicious actions, but he doesn’t understand toriel and her feelings at all, and doesn’t seem to be attempting to. he doesn’t understand how uncomfortable he’s making kris either. he’s only focused on this end goal of getting back to normal. he’s not a bad person, he’s just completely oblivious.

because of that, even if when we find out what he did or didn’t do it does turn out to not be his fault at all, there’s still no way that toriel is going to forgive him and it wont change the fact that how he’s acting now is totally inappropriate. it’s in the same way that understanding toriel doesn’t change the fact that she failed kris when they needed her. but I can’t call either of them overall bad parents or bad people. flawed, sure, but all parents are. making a final and damning moral ruling on either of them based on their actions in a very rough situation seems pretty foolish to me

#asks #deltarune spoilers #analysis #people are always just chomping at the bit to call toriel awful. they want it so bad #also it seems like the next dark world is most likely gonna be in asgore's flower shop #but i dont think that means he'll 'join us' in the dark world. i think at most he'll appear there as an objective in some way #like toriel did

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orphicsun · 7 months ago

Text

. ✦ .R U Mine? FWB Ellie x Reader. ✦

Content: JACKSON ELLIE X FEM! READER, Alcohol consumption, friends with benefits, mentions of casual sex, some angst, Cat is Ellie's ex-girlfriend in this fic, making out in the rain, nipple play (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), scissoring, happy ending this is definitely an emotional roller coaster though, set in TLOU universe in which reader and Ellie are young adults, Joel is still alive and mentioned, Jesse and Dina are in a relationship in this, I know the pic is Seattle Ellie but this is still set in Jackson.

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: I know I literally just said I'd be releasing this in a week, get tricked. (I spent hours editing to finish this but it was so worth it)

Description: Ellie has always been bad with emotions. Dina tells you that what seems like everyday at this point. Still, you can't help but notice the way she leaves the morning after your nights together. You can feel the tension in the way she pretends like nothing happens during patrol together. Just when you think you finally have the situation figured out, it blows up in your face.

"How drunk are you?" Dina's voice echoes in your head, making you turn away from your current view and back onto the current conversation.

"Uhhhhhh…..however drunk you want me to be?” You giggle at Dina’s failed attempt to stifle a laugh.

“You are so doomed tomorrow..don’t you have patrol with Jesse?! And I thought you were gonna try to go talk to Ellie and make things less awkward..” Dina looks at you more sternly now.

You groan. “It’s not like it’ll even fuckin’ matter, she’ll just ignore me like she always does. Like she’s doing right now.”

You know that was a bit over dramatic, but it’s not untrue. Ellie and you have been seeing each other - no, fucking, for the past few months. Every single time you’re in public together, she mostly acts weird towards you, feigning disinterest. The act she puts on is hard to believe when she’s between your legs making you cum your brains out the next day. It’s not like you don’t understand the difference between love and lust. You absolutely understand it, especially in a place like Jackson where getting attached to someone can be riskful. However, Ellie is never a quick fuck-and-leave. Not only is the sex amazing, but she tells you things in the voice she limits for only you to hear, and things she says never make you wonder if she means them. Her actions, however, have you lost.

Ellie was a friend before all of this. She was no childhood friend who grew up with you but simply someone who you connected to well, and well was an understatement. You know almost everything about her, from her favorite rations to bring on long supply runs to her shower routine. Now, the two of you are really at a limbo; the patrols since the first hook-up have all been awkward, with Ellie being extremely quiet or overly nice, which may seem like a good thing but once again you know Ellie. She has never been the type to keep her mouth shut and clean. The crude jokes and sarcasm are your favorite pieces of her personality, and you just assumed at first that it was just her getting used to the dynamic. However, as time continues, it is still just as weird, and the two of you are hooking up just as often.

Currently, you’re wasted to no ends at a party in Jackson you wish you didn’t even go to. Of course, Ellie’s here joking around with Jesse in the far left of the backyard like nothing is weird between the two of you. Again, it may be dramatic, but you just hate the fact that you have to keep it all a secret from everyone. (You told Dina as soon as it happened, but that’s because you can’t keep secrets from your best friend!) You know that from the beginning, it was always supposed to be sex and a friendship. Both of you didn’t want a ton of commitment, but that changed overtime as the hook-ups started to last longer and the aftercare went from sitting in bed together to holding each other like lovers do. Dina warned you that Ellie isn’t good with her feelings, but it causes bitterness within you when she kisses the top of your head the other night then refuses to even say hi to you at a party.

You sigh, turning your attention back away from Ellie once more and onto Dina, who is trying her best to lecture you on why you should just talk to Ellie instead of letting the situation get so awkward, but you’re not really hearing her. You’re not typically a melancholic drunk, but Ellie really has a knack for bringing that side out of you, especially when she’s halfway across the yard talking Jesse’s head off and refusing to make eye-contact. Every time she laughs, it stabs at your heart. Not because she’s happy, but because you want to be the one to cause that feeling in her. You want to be the reason she smiles and giggles, you want to hear all of the swear words she wants to say and the stupid jokes she likes to come up with. You honestly miss her, and you know it’s stupid that you even fell for her, but you hope that someday things will at least be normal once more. Not that you wanna lose the sex, though.

Dina drags you over to the mentioned group and forces her boyfriend Jesse to escort you home. You don’t argue back. You’re too sad to argue and it’s embarrassing to be on the verge of tears as Ellie’s silence next to is continued.

You can’t help but think of Ellie, even when you’re all snug in your bed and half-conscious. It’s the memory of her face as you walked away and how she glanced over to you but never spoke up. She would have made your day so much better with a simple ‘hello.’ It’s not her fault, you tell yourself. It was never ever her fault but yours. Still, you feel so bitter wondering where it all went wrong for you.

Usually, you never experienced such a level of attachment to one person. It’s not like love was new and you were far from a virgin when you and Ellie first hooked up, but something about her is engraved in your head and you just can’t escape it. You picture the button-like curve of her nose and the way light reddens her hair, a color that is almost impossible to make out in the confines of the indoors. Sometimes, you wonder if Ellie was born to be part of nature. She smells so Earthly and the way she moves, converse padding through grass, it’s like when you see someone practicing a hobby meant for them: you just know it’s meant to be that way. You used to love going on patrol with her for that reason, to be able to see her so comfortably scavenging and on Shimmer’s back. Now, it’s stiff and awkward, and the sense of fate that you feel when seeing her do what she is so naturally good at is challenged by her distance.

Deep within your thoughts, you’re pulled out by a creak and the sound of your window opening. You quickly sit up, attempting to dry your tears with your sleeve when you see Ellie clumsily diving into your bedroom. Usually in the circumstance of being angry with someone, you know that you would tell them to fuck off. Ellie, however, cannot be told that. Her charm on you is far too wrapped around you like vines to concrete and so you laugh even through the tears.

“Your window is fuckin’ narrow, you know.”

“I wouldn’t know. I use the front door.” Despite the snark in your words, your voice cracks slightly as you sniffle and try to hold back the hot tears.

Ellie sighs, and you can tell she is holding back. You hate this, the way conversation still flows at little points in time before continuing onto becoming nothing but awkward, stiff silence. Ellie surprises you and moves quickly to sit on your bed near you, pulling you into her arms.

You know you shouldn’t crumble, but you do. Her embrace is so warm despite the fact that tomorrow it’ll be non-existent, and so you cling onto her while you still can. Your tears dribble down your cheeks and onto her shirt where the material grows damp. She only holds you tight, not making any further moves. Somehow, that is worse than the latter. The idea that this is what the relationship (if you can even call it that) has become is so emotionally involved, now there is no doubt that there is more, but there won’t be in the morning.

You grieve the moment for what it could’ve been and fall asleep in Ellie’s arms as she coos you so softly, whispering sweet reassurances, only taking your tears as drunken sadness and not for what it was - her own doing.

When you were once a young girl, you found comfort in the sound of clocks. The rhythmic tick, tick, tick lulled you to sleep. Now, you awake to the same ticking coming from the round clock mounted on your wall by a nail behind it. The familiar sunlight is plastering the bed in patterns much like time itself, telling you that the day is ahead of you and that you cannot sleep it off for much longer. Of course, Ellie’s presence is lacking. She left before you woke up. It hurts more than the other times that you opened your eyes to see that the girl you slept with the night before had left you, because she held you so dearly the previous night in a way that is always more than friendly or sexual. The inbetween of that must be hard for her to differentiate.

You arrive at the East gates around 8 am, and Jesse is there waiting for you with a polite smile on his face.

“Hey. You ready to head out?”

“Yeah, sorry if I’m running a bit late.”

Jesse lets out a small laugh at that. “I won’t hold you to it. You were pretty hammered last night.”

You avoid his teasing gaze, knowing full-well his words ring true. You were embarrassingly drunk last night, and you probably said some things to him that you don’t even remember now, but he definitely does.

“You act like you weren’t drinking too!”

“Oh, please. I’ve been drunk but not that drunk. You were white-girl wasted.”

That makes you laugh, but at the same time your heart clenches along with your uneasy stomach. That’s a term one freckle-faced girl is known for saying because of Joel.

“Can we just get on with patrol now?” Jesse rolls his eyes at your whiny tone and short dismal, but nods anyway and begins to signal for the guards to open up the large gates. You sigh, taking reluctant steps out of Jackson along with him. “My head’s killing me and I need to get this over with so that I can go home and nap.”

The first 30 minutes of patrol goes just as expected, the trek to the neighborhood you were assigned to clear and search through is long and boring. Jesse isn’t much of a talker when it comes to patrols, usually sticking to professionalism. That doesn’t surprise you much. While Jesse likes to drink and have a good time, he’s always taken patrol seriously. You recall countless times you’ve heard him scold other people for not taking their work seriously enough, and you partially understand. The lives of the people in Jackson all count on each other to do their jobs efficiently. Still, you know that patrol can be boring and nerves can be high. Sometimes, people just need to have a bit of humor in their lives to keep things from getting too grim. Afterall, leading an overall grim life as a patroller is no way to live. It’d tear your spirit out, starting from the inside.

However, as you reach the building, Jesse stops in his tracks. His usual disposition is broken and he turns to you with a sigh.

“Listen..” He struggles to find the words, “I just wanted to talk to you about something that I’ve noticed.”

You hope this isn’t going where you think it is. “Yeah?”

“Ellie’s one of my best friends, and I can tell something’s going on between the two of you, even if she won’t tell me.” He notices your visible discomfort at the mention of Ellie, but presses on. “I’m just warning you that she’s not good with her feelings. She can be all awkward and weird about them, but you’re a good person. I know she cares about you.”

You don’t answer immediately, a bit caught off guard by his words. Still, they resonate with you. You’ve heard this from Dina too, but you previously wondered if she was only wanting to give you a soft landing. Dina, as much as you love her, has a tendency to try to avoid hurting your feelings. Jesse is quite the opposite, and you know that what he says has meaning to it.

“Thanks, Jesse.” You give him a slight smile, and he nods.

“Just talk to her, okay? You guys are both great. You deserve better than whatever the fuck you’ve got goin’ on.”

You can’t help but laugh slightly at that despite anxiety churning through you. If Jesse sees potential, why can’t it be realistic to think that you and Ellie have a shot at being more than just friends who often have sex? Why can’t you be girlfriends?

The rest of the patrol is still half better, half worse. You’re anxious about actually talking to Ellie about your feelings and the aching from the previous night hasn’t faded. The task of taking out infected is just as dreadful because you know that in any moment, all of your current problems can become squabble compared to the issue you’d be faced with if a bite were to be imprinted into your flesh. It’d be tragic. Still, you have hope. You carry hope with you that soon, you may get to make some progress with her and get out of this weird spot. You think about that hope every moment that your knife is plunged into the rotten fungi-covered skin of another clicker.

Before, your plan was to make a bee-line for your own house and sleep off the liquor from the night before, to get some actual sleep. Now, your feet seem to lead you to the path of Ellie’s garage. You’re just ready to see her and get the difficult conversation over with so that you can finally know how she feels.

On the way, your heart races with hope and fear. Questions circle around your head like bees swarming their hive; will Ellie reciprocate your feelings? Even if she does, will she want to actually be in a relationship with you? She may not even feel the same way.. You have to stop yourself from going overboard. As you reach her little garage, you take a deep breath and mentally count the seconds in your head.

Tick, tick, tick…One, two, three..

Everything will be fine. Even if this doesn’t work out, you can at least move on from her and have closure. You can’t help but smile at the thought of no longer having to deal with awkward patrols and weird conversations. Finally, you walk towards the garage door; your steps are faster than before and charged with nerves. Your hands are shaky but your mind is determined.

You stop yourself from knocking on her door when you hear the sound of laughter.

You recognize the all-too-familiar laughter that belongs to Ellie, of course. It always makes your heart tumble into your stomach upon hearing it. However, you hear another fit of giggles beside hers that cause a clenching in your heart. Was she with another girl…?

You quickly pad towards her window, her curtains opened wide of course. From even just the side, you can see the scene inside of her room. Ellie is sitting in bed with Cat. You feel sick to your stomach at the sight of the girls so effortlessly talking, something Ellie hasn’t bothered to give you in months besides the times you’re in bed together, naked for her.

Cat is drawing on her arm and it makes you livid with jealousy. You know that she and Ellie dated before. You can’t help but wonder if this is the reason that Ellie holds back from you. Was she really still in love with her ex-girlfriend all of this time? Were you just a rebound to her?

Your heart breaks within you, and you’re more hurt than you are angry. The frustration is definitely there, though. You don’t bother to knock, storming back off to your home.

Ellie knew from a young age who she was. She has a foul mouth, likes nerdy things that others may insult her for, and she likes women. Her sexuality may have been a bit of a spectacle in Jackson. When she and Cat were seen holding hands when they were together, she was forced to get used to the stares thrown at them. They built her up into everything she is today. However, Ellie is nothing if not troubled.

Her emotions aren’t so easily adaptable. Her feelings feel murkier at times and clear at others, yet she cannot convey them in the ways others do. She knows that she is in love with you. She feels an emptiness when she is away from you for too long and wonders if it would be smart to let herself be so honest with you, to risk losing you after spending the rest of her days with you. She struggles to convey all of that, too; what if you find her to be overwhelming? Sex with you may be one thing, but these feelings could scare you away. She can’t lose you.

Perhaps her lack of proper conveyal pushed you further away from her grasp.

It seems that you won’t talk to her anymore. She can’t pinpoint what is causing the change, but all she knows is that it is all too real. You, for some reason, won’t volunteer to patrol with her anymore. You don’t knock on her door, even if it’s just for that one thing that has been the main foundation of your relationship for the past few months. You lack the softness in your gaze when you’re in her presence; you lack to gaze at her at all.

Something in Ellie is entirely disheartened by your sudden absence in her life. She knows that she was awkward before, but she genuinely wanted to tell you how she felt about you. She wanted to carve your name into the surface of her heart so that she can only bleed you, as if your hands don’t squeeze at the organ enough. She recalls the times that she’d take deep inhales of your hair after sex just to be filled with your scent. She thinks about the last time she got to hold you and how she left after, just because she couldn’t live with it if you rejected her in the morning.

For weeks, this avoidance continues. At first, Ellie tries to speak to you. You ignore her or brush her off with short responses every time. After a while, she begins to pull away as well. That is, until you’re walking home in the rain as the crash of thunder surrounds Jackson at all angles.

Your boots make wet pitter-patter noises as you try your best to hurry back home after a late patrol. The sky is dark, the only source of light is your own flashlight and the dim street-lights that make a path down the street. Unfortunately, your house is so far from the center of Jackson that it requires a longer journey to get home than it does for most people. You live on the outskirts, which can be good for privacy, but not so good for travel.

You wish that you had brought an umbrella with you earlier before leaving your house. Now, it doesn’t matter. All you can focus on is getting home and not being struck down in lightning. In a world filled with fungi-based zombies, you’d think that something as unique as being fried from a thunderstorm would be the least of your worries. Your steps quicken until they don’t.

You trip face-first into the gravel, your skin on fire from the sudden harsh tumble. Your clothes are covered in mud and dirty rain water, some pebbles sticking to the soaked fabric. You groan in discomfort, but you’re halted from your progress in rising when you look up to see a frantic Ellie staring down at you.

“Holy shit, are you okay?! What the hell are you doing out here, it’s raining cats and dogs..”

Usually, you’d laugh at that joke. Instead, you avoid her gaze and try to stand, wincing at the soreness from the fall and the scrape on your knee left from the sharp gravel.

“I’m fine. I just got back from patrol.” Your words are so boring and short, it makes Ellie’s heart ache. She misses how things used to be.

“You’re not gonna make it all the way back to your house like this.” She states, and you know she is right, unfortunately. Your clothes leave you feeling like a wet dog, dirty and half-way drenched. Your knee is probably bleeding, and you simply don’t want to walk all of the way home. Still, you’d rather do that than face Ellie after what you witnessed.

“I can make it, I’ve walked home before.”

Ellie scoffs at your stubborn, dry tone. “Yeah, no shit. But not like this. C’mon, just come back to the garage. You can borrow my clothes and I’ll ask Joel for a first-aid kit.”

That sounds so like Ellie to offer. You remember countless nights in her garage, some before the whole situation happened when you only played video games and let her read you comics until you were snoring on her couch. You also remember the late nights spent against her, panting as she made you cum in any way she could, only to act as if it didn’t happen the next day. The thought makes you grow bitter.

“Maybe I don’t wanna go home with you.” You state in a monotone, or at least try to. You pray that she can’t hear the break in your voice, notice how your already wet face is easily splotched with a cluster of tears.

That makes Ellie’s heart completely squeeze within her body. “But..why?”

“Why?! Because you led me on, Ellie!”

Ellie’s eyes widen at that. She didn’t expect that. “Lead you on? How..How did I lead you on? I know I was awkward, but I-”

You quickly cut her off, your voice raising with pent-up hurt. “It’s not about your stupid awkwardness! It’s about the fact that I was clearly just a rebound.”

Ellie goes silent at that. A rebound? What the hell were you talking about? A rebound for who?

“A rebound? What are fuck are you even saying right now..? I never..” Her voice trails off, she’s clearly confused; that only fuels your anger further.

“You only agreed to sleep with me because you wanted to get over Cat. Am I right, or am I right?” Your tone slides from angry to practically livid. Underneath it all is pure heart-break.

“That’s not even true! I’ve been over Cat for a couple years now and you know that. Why would I still like her after this long?”

“I saw you and her in your stupid garage, Ellie!” As you shout, lightning strikes, causing you both to flinch. You should just turn away and rush inside, rush anywhere indoors. You know that. Still, you’re too focused on all of the hurt inside of you. “I saw her drawing all over your arm and I heard your laughter. You never laughed like that for me unless we were fucking. You never smiled at me like you smile at her, or Jesse, or even Joel for fuck’s sake.” You feel sobs bubble up from your throat and the rain pouring down upon the two of you. “I just wanted you to be happy with me like how you were before. Instead of…just pretending like we were nothing at all.”

Ellie looks like she’s about to argue back, but her words best her. She instead moves to stand in front of you, and even despite the tension and distance between the two of you, you can’t help but think about how beautiful Ellie looks, her soaked bangs glued to her forehead and her clothes soaked, clinging onto her slender form. She cups your face almost hesitantly, her fingers brushing against your jaw as if she’s afraid you’ll push away. She can feel the heat of your tears in contrast to the coldness of the rain water on your wet face. She aches at the difference.

“Listen to me..please..” Her voice, so soft and intimate, makes you want to do whatever she asks. She is so gentle even as the thunder booms once more, almost making you jolt again. “Cat was only drawing on my arm because I wanted to get a new tattoo, and I’ve been well over her for years now. We might’ve dated when we were young, but all we are now is a friendship. I needed her advice on you. I wanted to know what to do, how to tell you how I feel..”

You look up at her, your voice hesitant. “And how do you feel?”

She exhales, a shaky and addictive sound. “I don’t want Cat back. I want you back..I miss you. I miss the goofy shit we used to do on patrol.” She chokes out a laugh, ironic for the speech and the nerves she’s feeling from confessing all of this to you. “I miss hearing your laughter, I miss how you smell so lovely even when you live in a fucking apocalypse. I yearn to hear you talk to me. Talk to me about anything. I miss the way you sneeze, the way you stumble over yourself like how you just did and got your damn patrol clothes all muddy.” She takes one final moment to savor your face, to memorize your features right in front of her in case you reject her final confession. “I don’t love Cat. I love you.

Her words hit you so deeply, right in the heart where you need to feel her. You don’t hesitate to lean in and Ellie almost immediately meets your lips in a bruisingly desperate kiss.

Your hands grasp at her face like she’ll disappear in any moment, fingers finding her hair and pulling at the wet, tangled strands of auburn.. She pulls you closer by the waist and her palm can feel sensations that make her believe this moment is something straight out of a dream. Dots of rain fall upon the both of you as her lips pull your bottom one in between them, making you gasp softly and part your lips. She takes full advantage, slipping her tongue into your mouth.

The two of you are now impossibly close as your mouths slide against each other so needily, so fervently. Every brush, every wet smack of your lips ignites more than just a fire between the two of you. Ellie is itching to keep you like this, but she desperately misses all of you. She wants to devour you and solidify the fact into existence that you are hers, and you won’t ever doubt her love for you.

Droplets of rain wetten the kiss further, but they do nothing to prevent the heat of your mouths enveloped, or stop the way the two of you push and pull closer to each other like magnets. The only thing that breaks the kiss is a sudden bolt of lightning rather close to your location.

Breathless, Ellie’s forehead meets your own. “We should go back to my garage.” You nod, and quickly, the two of you scamper off to Joel’s backyard in which her small place is located.

Inside, Ellie’s lips meet yours once more, thirsting and full of longing. Damp clothes are pulled off of the two of you; bodies meet each other and you can feel every inch of Ellie against every centimeter of you. Her stiff nipples graze yours, making you shiver despite the warmth of her garage.

“Say you love me again,” you plead with her so breathlessly.

She doesn’t hesitate to be truthful, not after holding back for so long. “I love you. I love you so much, it hurts.”

Her lips drag down your neck, her hands guiding your hips to walk back towards her bed. You fall onto the soft mattress and her body quickly follows yours. Each swipe of her tongue over your skin sends sparks of pink electricity through your veins and between your legs.

“I need you, Els.” You’re panting, a delirious mess and yet more content than you’ve been in a long time.

“Shh, I’ve got you. I’ll give you all of me. I’m yours now.”

Ellie’s body is smothering yours, and she has to settle further down to make contact with your tits. Her mouth is all over the soft, bumpy texture of your nipples, lapping at the hardened peaks to send little shudders through your spine. Your body craves her after so long, but you appreciate all she gives you. Her mouth takes its time on each of your nipples, her love so needy and desperate yet savoring. You grasp at her messy hair, trying to pull her up to kiss you.

When her bare weight settles back onto yours, your mouths soon meet for a slower, but just as intense kiss. You take your time to slide your tongue against hers and lick into her mouth, exploring her as if your time here would last forever. Her body involuntarily grinds against yours and though there’s not direct friction onto either of your clits, you still whimper into each other’s throats.

Ellie’s palm slides down between your humid bodies as she distracts you with her tongue swirling against yours, a delicious sensation you can’t seem to find anywhere else. Her fingers suddenly rub at your clit, making you moan into her mouth, an eager sound so easily swallowed.

This isn’t the first time she’s touched you like this, not even the second time. Still, your body reacts as if this is all new. The way she touches you is sloppy and passionate, not anything in comparison to the previous hook-ups in which she was able to make you cum but gave you what was a watered down, held back version. Now she can give you everything.

The kiss slows, but your lips lingered against each other’s. You can still lick at the taste of rain droplets on her swollen lips; you wish to rub against them so hard that they taste of nothing but your own lips.

“Inside me, please.” You beg against her lips, sending fizzles of heat throughout her own cunt and making her clench around nothing.

“Good,” she mumbles against you as she eases two fingers into your moistened hole to elicit a soft, open gasp from your lips, “wanted to feel inside your cunt again. Missed it.”

Her calloused fingers work you, stretching your walls to ease any discomfort. You don’t know what to focus on with the amount of feelings coursing through your body - the subtle curve of her breasts are visibly if you flicker down, but you can’t seem to do so as you throw your head back onto her pillow and stare up at her ceiling to try and collect yourself; the way her eyes intensely watch over the way you gnaw at your bottom lip with pleasure, biting down when she curls her digits in the most delicious way possible; her mouth painting noticeable hickeys all over your neck, an action you’d usually scold but can only grasp her face for more; the soft ‘love you’s leaving her mouth between suckling. She can’t help but remind you after all of this time.

Her fingers batter your insides repeatedly, fingertips pressing into your spongy spot until you cry her name and your nails are piercing into her skin. Each slide into your walls and the slight retreats sends waves of pure pleasure through your body, your peak being the only thing either of you can focus on. Her eyes look over your face, watch the way your breath recedes as your orgasm bleeds into your stomach and into your head. Each ripple shooting through your walls causes your walls to clamp down onto her fingers as if to hold them inside of you forever. She doesn’t stop pumping into your hole until you physically cannot withstand it any longer.

“I love you, Ellie.”

Your words, so saccharine, make her forget about her plan to cuddle with you after making you feel good. She’s now hitching up your leg and pulling hers over your thigh, slotting her neglected and slick cunt between your legs, her folds grinding against yours and causing you to mewl at the sudden sensation against your clit.

“You love me?” Ellie asks, watching as you nod your head eagerly, “bet this pussy loves me just as much,” her words so filthy make you even wetter than you thought was possible in a single night.

Ellie whines as her clit receives little sparks of friction, the swollen bud savoring each moment of contact with your cunt.

“Feels so good, h-holy fuck..” You whine, your hips bucking up into hers in small shudders of movements. The pure sloppiness of your pussies rubbing together causes the room to be filled with the sounds of squelching and strained moans, Ellie’s more breathy and yours more pitched. Her hips quiver against yours as she gets closer and close to cumming, her movements more sloppy as your wetness turns into hers, and hers yours.

“Please, please, please I’m gonna cum, I’m-” Your own orgasm washes over your body, your back rising to accommodate for the sudden intense pleasure. Soon, Ellie’s cumming with you, not hesitating to swallow up your cries with her lips sealed over yours. You can feel each sloppy hump her cunt gives yours, can feel her whines only attempt to leave her throat. All of it has you drunk off of the feeling, possibly even harder than the last orgasm. Her tongue lazily fucks your mouth as she gives a final few sloppy judders to your clit before her body gives in to the utter exhaustion and she settles on top of you.

Her body, coated in sweat and her pussy, covered in both of your juices, are completely worn out. Ellie’s head finds sanction in the crook of your neck where her breath tickles your purple-splotched skin. You wrap your arms around her, squeezing her tightly. Her leg brushes up against yours and that’s when you noticeably flinch; right, the scraped knee from earlier.

Ellie quickly pulls herself off of you to catch sight of your left knee, slightly red with dried blood and clearly tender.

“I’ll take care of that, just lay here and rest, ‘kay” You nod eagerly, wanting to get rid of the burning sensation as quickly as possible. Ellie quickly pulls on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before giving you a quick kiss on the forehead, her eyes taking a final glance to admire your naked body sprawled out on her bed.. all she can seem to feel now is love for you. “Stay here and I’ll be back soon.”

Quickly, Ellie returns to you with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a large adhesive band-aid. Her face is rather irritated. You raise your eyebrows.

“What’s with the look?”

She sighs, muttering out, “Joel..that’s all.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. Fuck, you missed Joel. You missed watching movies with Ellie on his couch and the popcorn he’d microwave for the two of you to share. You can already tell by her face that he was pretty teasing about her scavenging through his cabinets for first-aid items looking like a hot mess. “I missed him,” you mumble quietly.

“Yeah… He missed you, too.” Ellie unscrews the lid on the alcohol and braces herself to do what she has to do.“This is gonna hurt, okay?” You nod, bracing yourself. Soon, the stinging of the alcohol hits your knee. It’s sudden and makes you wince. Seeing that look on your face makes Ellie want to stop and just hold you tightly, protect you from any harm. When the sting finally fades, you let out a soft sigh. She quickly peels the back of the band-aid off and with gentle but calloused fingers sticks the adhesive onto your scrape. She gives you a soft smile. “There. All good, now.”

You don’t hesitate to smile back, but another thought crosses your mind. “Hey, Ellie..?”

“Yeah?” Her voice is heavy with exhaustion and a noticeable, gentle affection.

“I meant it when I said I loved you.”

Ellie gives you a toothy grin, a familiar one. “And I meant it when I said it, too.”

“But..I still just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me that before, you know?”

Ellie exhales quietly and nods, understanding what you mean. “I was really nervous, okay? I’ve just lost people before,” she leans in closer to you, admiring your eyes which observe her as she speaks, brushing messy strands of hair behind your ear, “I know it’s stupid, but it really is true when you hear people say I can’t handle my feelings well. I get all weird about them and I’m like a social recluse when I have a crush for some reason. As much as I just wanted to be around you, I was scared.”

Your eyes soften slightly from her words, but curiosity takes over. “Scared of what? I wouldn’t ever hurt you, Els.”

“It’s more than just getting my heart broken by you.. I mean, I’m scared of losing you physically, too.” She admits quietly.

Ellie’s fears aren’t irrational. Everyday, people who have lovers, have friends and family are bitten or torn apart in the most gruesome ways possible. That’s always a reason to be cautious to care, but you can’t help but want to disagree with that sentiment.

“But Ellie, you can’t just be alone with the fear of losing the people you care about,” you argue softly, “if you live your life like that, you’ll never get to have all of anyone. Sometimes, you have to risk losing the person you love so that you can at least have them in every way possible, even if it’s temporary.”

“I know that, believe me. I’m so damn tired of keeping myself away from you and not fully giving you what you deserve.” Ellie leans down to plant a soft peck to your nose, making you giggle, “you deserve to be loved wholeheartedly and not like how I was doing before..so..” she sighs. “If I asked you to be mine, my girlfriend…would you say yes?”

Your eyes widen and your heart beats faster. “You really mean that?”

Ellie nods, her cheeks red from earlier activities somehow burning brighter. This time, it’s more from embarrassment and something more childish than previously.

You giggle and quickly lean up to hug her tightly. “Yes. Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.” Ellie pulls you further in, squeezing you tightly. “You gotta promise to not hold back on me, though.”

She nods, feeling emotions pull at her chest at the feeling of your embrace, of finally having you in her arms without having to think about leaving you in the morning. “I promise.”

The rhythmatic, quiet sound of Ellie’s clock lulls you to sleep as she holds you in her arms.

Tick, tick, tick.

This time, Ellie won’t hold back from you when you wake up.

Taglist: @firefly-ace @kaykeryyy

#ellie williams #tlou2 #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #the last of us part 2 #ellie smut #ellie x fem reader #dividers by fairytopea

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