aurora, you’re my morning sun. ୧ ‧₊˚ 🐋

The marble of the bathroom's counter dented the soft, pliant flesh of your bare legs. With your laced panties pooled at your ankles, the skirt of your dress pulled up to your waist, her hips clashing right with your ass, and the blaring music of the party just out-of-bounds from the locked bathroom which Ellie fucks you in — the scene was straight-up erotic, something ripped from a store-bought porno. Thankfully, the music was at it's maximum volume to drain out the whiny moans and whimpers that she tears from your raw throat.

Lengthy fingers wrapped at the structure of your jaw, practically forcing you to view the sight which you fall victim to; spread legs, a quivering bent body, and a desperate mouth aligned with a variety of noises the girl pulls from you. Underneath the low fluorescent bulb of the bathroom, sweat glistens over your thighs and sticks to the remains of clothes she hasn't decide to rip off of you.

"Ellie! s'too much, please..." Your voice comes strained, but coherent enough for her to distinguish into proper words. Ellie only chuckles at the pathetic state she herself drags you down into. In response, the grip on your jaw increases into a harsher touch, securing your head in place. "M'sorry, please, I'll never embarrass you again..."

"You can handle it, baby," she replies, almost soft and assuring, "Besides I'm only doing what you're known to do best, spreading your slutty legs." her words sharpen, tone hardened. "Isn't that right? That's why a slut like you loves this so much — you love how I fuck you because I hate you as much as you hate me."

The material of her strap pounds right into your needy cunt, high-pitched whines falling from widened lips as it never fails to meet with your puffy lips. By this time, you had no choice but to savor how the girl you once hated made you feel and with no doubts; you falter to the impossible admission that Ellie had turned you, the vain popular girl, into her own personal fleshlight. From where she stood, she lingers her eager eyes to your drenched cunt laced with your arousal. Taking her right hand from the place on your waist, she parts your dripping folds, her thumb in contact to your swollen clit; your legs quiver against the sink while you mewled at the additional pleasure.

"Oh, Ellie!" your hands find purchase at the margins of the sink she forces you against, eyes nearly rolled beyond their sockets at the pace her strap-on pounds into your cunt at. Her singular thumb brought down and slotted between your thighs causing your nub to feel entirely raw, delicate to her rough touch. "M' gonna cum, need it so bad!"

She grunts under her breath. "Not yet — I wanna hear this from you first; who's turning you into a cockdrunk whore, sweetie?"

With your fogged-up head full of rapture, you're not immediate to give her a retort to her question; the hand that rubs at your clit abruptly halting, instead a sharp twinge comes into association with the engorged lips of your cunt. You manage a squeal from your glossed-spit lips, legs jerking and tears colliding with streaks of your fallen mascara at the overstimulating sting.

"Fuck! Mmph, God... it's you, Ellie!" you nearly scream out, compressing yourself right onto the weight of her strap. "Only you!"

"That's right, baby," she straightens her posture, adjusting her hands back onto your waist for more anchorage before pounding into your cunt without breaks, almost nearing animalistic territory. "I'm the only one who can take of this achy bitch cunt, god, it's almost pathetic."

Her thrusts are rapid, warmth pooling to your abdomen in a pressuring sensation. The sight mirrored right to the front of you grew blurry through your own pair-shared vision, bundle of nerves rubbing right up against her strap just enough to bump at your clit. Arrangements of whines and squeals shamefully fall past your lips that had grown tender overtime from the constant biting and attempts at muffing your noises behind gritted teeth — which ultimately failed at the end.

Ellie leans herself down to the naked expanse of your sweat-coated back, lips kissing down the skin in a rare moment of benevolence. "Can feel you loosin' up for me around my cock, honey. Give it to me, make a mess out of yourself."

At her abiding words reveberating in the fogged barriers of your fucked-out head, her unforgiving thrusts through the capacity of your tight cunt cause the pressuring warmth to relinquish; a bursting rush of liquid transmits through your stimulated cunt and drips down the shape which your spread legs prop at as well as drenching the silicone of her strap plunged right up at the base of your cervix. The upper-half of your body sweeps of any persisting stability, slumping over the sink while two quivering hands pressed to the surface of the moist mirror hoist yourself up.

"Shit," she pants out a curse, the brawn of her two hands at your waist flipping your limp self over so that she was in a viewpoint above you, "Might hate your guts, honey, but there's no denying that you look fuckin' beautiful after a good fuck."

what’s the easiest way to drive a girl crazy? be joel miller, probably. it’s been months of you teasing and gently dropping hints that you want him and joel still hasn’t fucked you. yes, there’s a significant age gap, but you know he wants you, you’ve seen him hiding how hard he gets when you ‘forget’ he’s there and start changing your clothes in front of him, so why won’t he just fucking do it? you start to wonder: knowing that the issue doesn’t lie in a lack of attraction towards you, you start thinking of other signals and cues you might have missed and begin to formulate a way forward in your brain.

you’ve noticed how pissed off joel gets when you defy him and you’ve started to wonder if maybe that isn’t the best plan— to anger him into wanting to have sex with you. the more you think about it, though, the more stupid it sounds, so you decide that maybe it’s best not to think about it and to put your plan into action before you chicken out too quickly.

it’s funny, really, because up until now joel’s always thought of you as a good girl. in his mind he doesn’t want to fuck you because shit, you’re so much younger than him and so pretty too. who would want to wreck that innocent little angel (even if he does think he sometimes sees you giving him fuck me eyes, he never allows himself to indulge in the thought for longer than a moment. after all, what would a pretty little thing like you want with an old washed up criminal like him?) so, joel stays in his lane— as always— because he thinks that there’s probably nothing in the world that could be more awkward than trying to bone your pretty young travelling companion if she doesn’t want you.

recently though it seems as if something’s changed. you’re no longer angelic— you’re sarcastic and mean and more vulgar words tumble past your lips from ellie’s. if joel didn’t know any better (he knows better he knows better i want to fuck her… shit, i know better) he’d say you were doing this on purpose. little does he know that you are trying to wind him up: and it’s working. the more defiant your persona gets, the more frustrated you’ve realised you can get joel and now you’re intent on bratting him 24/7. he needs your help to do something? sorry, you’re just really busy. he doesn’t look at you all day? you start talking loudly about the guard who ate you out once in return for you sucking him off and act like you don’t see joel’s hand float absent mindedly down to his gun and grip the handle until his knuckles turn bright white. you trip over a tree root and happen brush up against his dick as you grab at his belt to steady yourself? well, you tell him, it’s only because it was ‘the nearest thing available’.

it takes him longer than it should to figure out what it is that you’re actually trying to achieve. when the lightbulb finally appears over his head though, he definitely chuckles to himself. as furious as he is that you felt like you had the right to disrespect him instead of just asking for what you needed, he has to admit how cute your desperation is to him. it’s not as if you’ve ever wanted for anything since knowing joel—actually, he’s rather complacently allowed himself to spoil you, a fact which he kicks himself for now, but ultimately he knows he can’t blame himself and that what’s done is done. fuck the past— joel’s thinking about the present when he decides that perhaps a firmer hand is needed to deal with this situation.

it’s unclear what it is exactly that pushes him over the edge. maybe it’s the subtle brush up against his thigh as you walk past him and then glare at him as if you hadn’t gone out of your way for your body to make contact with his, or you telling him to go fuck himself gently with a chainsaw when he suggests taking first watch as you and ellie sleep, or the random offhand comment directed at his age and the way you mocked him by saying you doubt he’s even capable of fucking at this point. does it really matter? the point is that joel’s reached that point, the one where if he doesn’t put you in his place he thinks he might die. can you die from being too hard? joel miller, 56, death by exploded dick. wouldn’t sound all too pretty on a headstone, and joel isn’t in the mood for that kind of embarrassment if he’s honest. he knows he’s gonna have to act soon before he does die and ellie says something like he “perished from a lack of pussy” in the eulogy.

one night, ellie’s already fallen asleep. tiny snores escape her and you chuckle from your vantage point, sat upright on the mossy forest floor. joel looks over at the noise. “should get some sleep. we gotta make tracks in the morning,” he says, making eye contact with you for the first time all day. you scoff at him and he’s instantly go his guard raised, ready to fight whatever acerbic comment you hurl at him. “go fuck yourself, joel.” he blinks. tamer than expected, to be honest, but still out of character for you. he goes to speak but finds that you’re still talking. “you keep taking first watch and then not waking me up for second. when do you ever expect to sleep? you aren’t my fucking knight in shining armour, joel, you’re a prick. what kind of sick and twisted motherfucker deprives himself of sleep just to prove some dipshit misogynystic point? how much of a caveman can you be? you’re putting us in danger every time we’re on the move and you haven’t slept the night before and i’m sick of your bullshit—” you stop abruptly at the sight of joel’s smirk. something about it rubs you the wrong way and you lash out at him again. “sorry, am i amusing you, you fucking asshole?” this time, he grins outright. as pissed as you are, you have to admit there’s something so attractive about the expression on his face. “i see ellie’s been rubbing off on your vocabulary.” you grimace at him, infuriated with him, angry that all he’s gleaned from your tirade is that you have a swearing habit that’s gonna be hard to kick— “it’s real cute what you’re doing, by the way, hon. don’t think i don’t notice.” your head whips up so fast you’re shocked you don’t get whiplash. you can feel the pool that’s quickly forming in your panties at the nickname but you simply clench your thoughts together and pray joel doesn’t notice how on edge you are.

(he does.)

“don’t know what the fuck you’re on about,” you begin, but joel’s done playing that game. if you want him rough around the edges, that’s how you’ll have him; and so he doesn’t feel the slightest bit sorry when he cuts you off with a gruff laugh. “you wanna keep acting like a dumb bimbo as well as being a horny little brat? you’re a fucking cocktease, tryna’ get me all riled up all the time.” he’s standing now and so are you and everything’s moving so quickly and what the fuck, because joel miller— the man of your literal wet dreams— has you backing up against a tree and you can see the erection pushing hard against the seam of his pants. “honestly, honey, i’m kinda sick of it. if you wanted me to fuck you, could’ve just been a good girl and asked me all politely. then i woulda been a lot more inclined to treat you nicer when it came down to it, y’know?” a tiny whimper escapes your throat as he nips at your collarbone and you melt underneath him. “shhh, doll, gotta be quiet for me, yeah? s’okay. i know. i know, honey. but we don’t wanna wake up ellie, do ya?” you shake your head vehemently as he tugs your trousers down your legs and you do your best to bite back a breathy moan. joel’s on his knees in front of you and he looks so pretty, so goddamn fine with his pupils blown and his mouth stretched out into a teasing smirk as he stands up to face you again. “bet if i put my hand down these pretty little panties right now you’d be soaked. ain’t that right, baby?” you want to deny it but he doesn’t give you the chance- it’s half a second before he does just what he said and finds you absolutely dripping for him. you go to grind down against his hand and he withdraws it, tutting unhappily at you. “since when do sluts get to feel good?” he chastises you and you feel a sudden rush of heat needling its way through your veins and prickling its way up your neck. “you’re being mean. ‘m not a slut,” you murmur and joel positively coos at you. “i’m mean, huh?” you nod desperately and he brings his hand back down, fingers brushing deftly against your clit as you squirm and try to cover yourself up. “nuh uh. you wanna act like a cheap whore, i’ll treat you like one. yeah?” your head’s nodding before your brain even knows what he said.

next thing you know, you’re being absolutely wrecked as joel rubs his thumb against your clit to loosen you up as he slides his thick shaft into your abused cunt— “are you crying right now?” he doesn’t mean to but he groans. it makes him feel like sone kind of pervert to admit it, but there’s something so raw and primal awoken in him at the sight of your tears. he wants to make you cry more. he wants to see you come undone. he wonders if you’ll be crying then or if you scream his name and realised that he’s about to find out. you whimper again and clutch at his wrists and he mutters words of encouragement into your ear. “c’mon, i know you can take it, baby, isn’t this exactly what you’ve wanted the past few months? bullying me, tellin’ me i don’t know how to fuck right, but i’m the mean one, right?” you’re babbling against his neck as he bottoms out in you and his facial expression is so fucking smug that if you’d been any less fucked out by now you’d want to murder him. “nasty men runnin’ around in these woods. infected, too, probably. but you don’t care, do ya? so much danger all around us and all you care about is me splittin’ you open on this cock, huh?” he’s looking expectantly at you for an answer even though he knows he’s unlikely to get one. you’re nodding, muttering incoherently, your mind in blissful agreement as tears gather on your lower lash line, spilling over— he’s just too thick and long and big and you tell him as much, clutching at his wrist and gasping. all you get is a laugh and a slight grunt in response and suddenly you’re gasping for air as he pulls out and slams into you harder, pressing the smallest of kisses to your damp temple as he chuckles at you, back pressing hard into the bark of the tree. he pinches roughly at the fat of your thigh and you moan loud enough to wake the devil before he’s covering your mouth with his calloused palm, looking hurriedly over to check that ellie’s asleep. “barely even in you and you’re already all fuzzy, huh? gonna fucking ruin you, angel.”

Both of your legs were thrown on opposite sides of Nancy’s thighs, caging them between yours whilst your knees dug into the soft bedding of her comforter.

Her tongue lolls out of the corner of her mouth in concentration, applying some finishing touches to your fragile eyelids that were decorated in soft hues of eyeshadow.

Humming in completion, her crystal azure irises leisurely traveling up and down the extent of your figure, giving you a final once over that has you wiggling under the heating surveillance of her stare once more.

Her signature grin takes over her features, watching you as she reaches for her aged hand mirror. “Wanna see, sweetheart?”

Nodding timidly, she flips the object around so you were met with your reflection gazing back at you.

“Pretty, huh, baby?” Nancy tilts her head slightly, examining the way you immediately become flustered; your bashful gaze shifting down to fidget with the hem of her dress that resembles the one she dressed you in. “No need to get all shy on me. Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, isn’t that right, honey? Say it for me.”

Her thumb and index finger grasp your chin delicately, lifting your head to meet her eyes that has your whole body warming from confronting her praises. Deciding to finally humor her once you spotted the way her eyebrow began inch up impatiently. You meekly responded, “M’your pretty girl.”

Nancy’s lips pull into a satisfied smile, revealing her pearly white canines in full. “That’s right. My pretty girl,” Leaving an unhurried peck on your moisturized top lip, her tongue peaked out to drag across the flesh agilely; tasting coated shimmery lipgloss prior to capturing your eager mouth with her own.

Your incoherent whines and mewls only provoked her actions further, indifferently smearing your freshly finished makeup whilst your bunched skirt rid up your bare thighs increasingly.

Breaking apart, erratic breath decelerating, Nancy’s mouth broke out into another smirk; leaning in to tenderly nibble at the skin of your earlobe. Taking it between her teeth and tugging slightly, her raspy voice fell just below a whisper. “So smart too.”

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