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saintels · 7 months

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SINTOBER

★ NOW SHOWING SAVE YOUR TEARS !

☆ starring ellie williams ( cameo by abby anderson )

☆ contains ! DACRYPHILIA ! taboo + dark (ish) content. crying kink. face fucking. ! FREE USE ! “trading”. slight bondage. all acts are consensual. lower case intended and femme afab reader. MDNI — BRAINROT

“you care about your friends right?”

you hum in agreement and nod as you looked up at your brawny girlfriend through dark lashes, tear drops collecting on the tips.

“you like to help your friends when they’re feeling down, yeah?”.

you nod again.

“ellie’s your friend, isn’t she?”.

a soft whine elicits from your throat as you play with your hands.

you nod.

yes. ellie was your friend. ellie had always been such a good friend to you. holding doors open for you, taking care of you at parties, giving you free weed.

abby smiled, a hand passing over your head as she placed a kiss in its trail.

she was also a good friend of abby’s and abby loved to help her friends out when they were feeling down. ellie being no exception.

“good girl. now,” she turned you towards ellie, who stood in your front doorway, “you know what you have to do.”

the trade off had only happened once before.

as abby and ellie blew off some steam over some smoke together, abby made ellie an offer she couldn’t turn down.

“so done deal? you get to use my girlfriend to ‘blow off steam’ or whatever the hell you said and i get discounted weed?”.

ellie hesitated, pondering for a moment before she put out her cigarette in the ashtray.

“deal.”

“come on, baby,” she gripped your head tightly in her hands as she fucks your throat with her cock.

the pearly cum of her previous couple of releases was smeared all over her thighs as well as your chin and the corners of your mouth.

you stare up at her from the floor, your knees bruised from ellie pushing you down and being knelt for so long. she had your hands bound behind your back tightly with black leather cuffs, having full control over your movement.

“you can go deeper than that baby, come on,” she grunts.

you shake your head and bounce on your feet as if to say ‘no’.

“i’m not seeing any tears, pretty girl,” annoyance laces her tone as she cocks an eyebrow, “that obviously means i haven’t gone deep enough then, yeah?”.

she let out a soft moan in satisfaction as she hears the gags that leave your throat as she bullies it with her strap.

it’s such a pretty sight.

your nose presses to her pelvis, make-up running down your face in streams, lip gloss smeared with her cum and your drool.

her tattooed hand cups your cheek softly, thumbs brushing at the delicate skin under your eyes. she feigns sympathy and you begin to cry as her eyes darken. you know that look.

“that’s better,” she rasps, “good girl. keep going like that and maybe i’ll let you cum next.”

you were in for a long night.

𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 @ 𝖘𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖑𝖘 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 [ do not: i. copy, repost, translate or modify my work. ii. copy or steal my themes ]

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auteurdelabre · 5 months

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Losing our Minds Together (SERIES) Part 2 soft!Joel x f!reader

Summary: You introduce Ellie to the neighborhood. Rating: 18+ (for future smut chapters) Word Count: 2.3 Warnings: This is saccharine slice of life with smut and a Soft!Joel. You have been warned. There is smut, but when it gets to those chapters you will have plenty of warning. (That is if there is interest in my story!) A/N: Y’all voted that this was the story you wanted to see updated next so I’m comin’ through! masterlist

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Chapter 2

You throw your purse down onto the floor before you go to your garage, tossing the ruined supplies in with a loud sigh. They make a hollow boom when they hit bottom of the bin.

You can't stop feeling furious about everything. The stupid fucking neighbor scaring you into dropping your supplies. That stupid fucking accent and those stupid fucking wide eyes. Everything about him from the way his lower lip is shaped to the curl of his hair is making you infuriated.

You kick off your shoes furiously, not caring when their rubber soles leave a mark on your wall. You let out a small growl, hands curling into angry fists.

All this anger has to go somewhere.

You march to you studio, flicking on the lights. Your teeth are clenched and bared like a feral animal. You rip the plastic from a new canvas like a beast ripping flesh. Setting it up on your easel.

You grab tubes of your acrylic paint, smudging it onto your palette.

Red. Black. Deep, deep greens

You grip the brush and begin. Ugly, angry slashes across pristine white canvas.

You can feel the emotion pouring out of you.

Its hours later and you only stop because your fingers have gone numb, making it impossible to keep holding the brush. But that's okay; it feels like a natural stopping point. Your eyes are heavy and you throw yourself into bed, paint drying in your hair and under your fingernails.

///

Ellie lays on her bed and tosses the tennis ball up to the roof, listening to it gently smack and then fall back into her hands. She does this over and over as her mind wanders. It feels weird to be outside of Wyoming, outside of the place she called home.

There’s a knock, Joel. Dad. Adoptive Father. Whatever you want to call it. He’s just Joel to Ellie. And yes, to her Joel is as close to a father as she has ever known, and yes it’s been two years but it still feels strange to think of calling Joel Dad. Thankfully he’s never seemed to mind. Never pushed the issue, never made her feel bad.

“Come in.”

Joel peeks his head around the door to her room, surveying the still full cardboard boxes, the bed half made, the desk covered in paper and pencil shavings and Ellie looked bored over at him. He thinks of insisting she start unpacking, it’s been two days since they arrived, but he knows Ellie takes things at her own pace.

“Yeah?”

“You wanna get ice cream?”

“Nah.”

“You wanna help me pull weeds in the yard?”

“Nah.”

“You wanna sit inside and be a typical teenager?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“Well too bad, you’re helping with chores. Then we’re gettin’ ice cream.”

Ellie gives a good-natured groan, pushing off the bed and following Joel through the house. Before anything begins he insists she eat put on sunscreen. Ellie is still getting used to this affection, this gentle love of a parent for the welfare of their child.

She does as he asked while Joel finishes his coffee. He’s staring at the house next door through the kitchen window, a frown on his face that she picks up on.

“What’s up?”

“Didn’t exactly make a good first impression with the new neighbor,” Joel says, turning back to Ellie. “Made her drop some expensive shopping.”

“So?”

“She seemed pretty pissed off.”

Ellie hums a response, her eyes going to read the back of the sunscreen bottle. Joel saunters over, seating himself in the chair opposite hers at the circular table.

“So you got a whole summer stretched out in front of ya,” Joel says, eyes on her face. “Thought about what you wanna do?”

“I thought I could come help you and Tommy on the job site.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna work, kid,” Joel says shaking his head. “Gotta have licensing and special insurance.”

Ellie feels her face fall. She had kind of been hoping that he’d show her the ropes. But she supposes that fourteen might be a little young to be on a construction site.

“I was thinkin’ more you’d wanna make some friends. Take a class. Try a sport. Somethin’ like that.”

“Are there even people around my age here?” Ellie asks, face grim. Joel shrugs in that dad-way of his, grinning around his coffee cup.

“Dunno, guess you’ll just have to find out.”

///

You finally pull yourself awake mid-morning, your face tight from the paint that’s dried there. You have a cold shower, feeling the heat of the summer morning already creeping up your spine. Your air conditioning is shot and you definitely don’t have enough to repair it.

As you get dressed you turn on the fan in the corner of your room, sighing when it does absolutely nothing to help. You grab a cereal bar from the kitchen before padding into the art room, wanting to take a look at what you created last night.

You blink rapidly as the onslaught of paint on canvas assaults you.

It’s wild. Nothing like you’ve done before. You can’t put your finger on it, but the piece feels alive. Like there’s no restraint in any of the paint strokes or palette smears. You like looking at it at first, but then it bubbles up emotions in you that feel uncomfortable.

You take a snap of it with your phone, sending it off to Frank just to see what he thinks of it. You always like his opinion. Maybe it could be worth something? If not it’ll be easy enough to gesso over to reuse. You don’t have enough money to be wasting canvas of that size.

You decide that you need a new way to make money. But teaching in the schools again isn’t going to happen. That dream died off a long time ago. Maybe you could do private lessons? Just a few a week could really help with the extra costs.

You mull this over before grabbing an iced tea. You’re about to head out into your backyard to relax when you hear a mower from next door going. You go to the sliding glass door, peeking through the cheap horizontal blinds.

He is there, the annoying hillbilly mowing the overgrown lawn, chatting over his shoulder to the teenager girl you saw move in the other day. She’s moaning about pulling weeds and you can’t help but smirk at that. She’s a girl right after your own heart. Domestic shit has never appealed to you, and your own weed-filled lawn showcases this. Usually the Thompson kid would mow your lawn for you for a five, but he’s gone off travelling before college starts in a few months.

You take another sip of your iced tea, the glass sweating in your hand and watch Joel as he scissors across the lawn, his spine a slick line of sweat down the center of his t-shirt. You can’t deny that he’s an attractive man. He may be a hillbilly, but he’s a hot one. Watching his muscled arms gleaming with sweat as he works in the hot sun is a sight to behold and you’re surprised to feel yourself swallowing.

It’s been too long since you got laid.

You feel uncomfortable in your own skin in this sweltering house. You decide the front yard will do. It’s more public, but it’s something.

You bring a folding chair from your closet out into the front yard, magazine and iced tea in hand. You tilt back, reading about the latest vogue collection, taking lazy sips of your drink.

“Hey do you paint?”

You lower the magazine and your oversized glasses to see the teen girl standing there, her hair tied back from her face but damp at the edges. She’s sweating bullets and it’s no wonder, she’s dressed for fall; long sleeves, heavy looking jeans.

“Honey you’re gonna die in that get up.”

The girl wrinkles her nose at the term honey, her dark eyes surveying you in your cut offs and t-shirt.

“It’s not a get up. It’s my clothes.”

You hear the edge to her voice. The immediate need to defend. Your recognize it in yourself and you lower the magazine to your lap, nodding solemnly.

“You’re completely right. Sorry about that. What were you asking me?”

She relaxes a bit, her eyes blinking against the sun. She raises a hand to shield them, still looking intensely at you.

“I wanted to know if you painted.”

“How did you know that?”

“I can see into your studio from Joel’s room.”

You take a glance over your shoulder, seeing that a bedroom does in fact face your studio. You’d never noticed with the old lady Silva living there before. She always kept her blinds closed and was forever complaining about you to the HOA.

“Yeah, I do paint. I sculpt. I draw. I do it all.”

“Cool. Is that your job?”

“I’d like for it to be,” you smile. “But you ever heard the term starving artist?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

She smiles at this, a tight little thing that makes her look so young. She looks nervously over at her yard, as if she’s waiting to be called back. But you can tell she wants to linger, to keep talking to you.

“You want an ice tea?”

“Sure.”

You disappear into the house, reappearing less than a minute later with a fresh glass and another folding chair. She eases into it, taking an appreciative sip of her drink and looking over at you when you start talking again.

“What do you think of the house?”

“It’s amazing. Way bigger than our old place.”

“The lady that lived there before you had about fifteen fish,” you tell the teen. “She was obsessed. Aquariums everywhere.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Well, that’s what Kathleen told me anyway.”

“Who’s Kathleen?”

“I’m ready. And my name is Ellie.”

“Okay Ellie,” you point across the street of the suburban neighborhood to a blue ranch-style home. “That’s where Kathleen and her husband Perry live. Perry’s cool but Kathleen’s the busybody of the street, major gossip, just be aware.”

“Got it.”

“Okay, moving onto the beige house, the one with the perfect yard? That’s David something. Can’t remember his last name. He is obsessed with religion and will try to convert you. So if he asks you if you’re free on Sunday’s you never are, unless you wanna hear a big long sermon.”

“Okay, that’s Marlene. She’s got a high up job in the military, but she doesn’t like to talk about it. She’s got a daughter Riley about your age actually.”

Ellie perks up at this, her dark eyes wide. “Really?”

“Yeah, lemme know if you want an introduction. Okay, now the house right next to you and your dads? That’s the Burrell’s. If you see them it’s a miracle because I have never seen a busier family. They have two sons, one a couple years younger than you that’s deaf. Sweetest kid you’ll ever meet.”

Ellie nods, taking another sip of her drink. You can tell she’s trying to memorize everything you’re telling her and it makes you smile.

“And that just leaves me on the other side of you,” you say sharing your name and giving her a brief handshake. “Coolest, best looking neighbor on the block.”

Ellie grins. “You got kids?”

“Fuck no,” you laugh, shaking your head. “No husband either. I like my freedom thank you very much.”

Ellie’s eyes thoughtful. “Me too.”

“Ellie! Lunch!”

You both turn to see Joel standing at the front door, glancing over to see you both relaxing and sipping your iced teas. You hold in the scowl that threatens to spill over your features before glancing back to Ellie who’s placed her glass on the ground beside her chair.

“If you ever need ice tea or a place to paint you lemme know,” you tell her smiling.

“Really? Okay.” Ellie gives you a short wave before jogging over to the front door where Joel is waiting. You watch him smile at her as she enters into the house saying something excitedly. Joel’s dark eyes flit over to you and he gives a friendly close-lipped smile and wave.

You ignore him, pushing your sunglasses back up the bridge of your nose and going back to your magazine. You feel his eyes on you for a beat longer before you hear the front door close behind him.

A buzz at your hip alerts you to a text from Frank. It’s an overly dramatic selfie of Frank with his hand to his cheek, his light eyes wide.

Honey this is amazing. This is the kind of stuff you need to be selling. More of this! Please!

You shake your head in amusement. You can’t really imagine how you could recreate that piece. It came to you from nowhere, it just bubbled out of you. You don’t forsee another one in the near future, but you don’t tell Frank that. You quickly text back.

We’ll see if I’m inspired again.

With that you shut your phone off, tilt back in your folding chair and relax.

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