#f/f smut

[alienguts]

Warm Welcome (Harley Quinn x f!Reader)

Summary: Harley’s back from Arkham and there’s only one thing she wants to do.

Warnings: NSFW, smut, F/F sex, cunnilingus, facesitting, fingering, just gals being pals 🔞

Request?: No

A/N: 🌈 gay shit here get your gay shit here 🌈

Five minutes. It took just five minutes after getting home for Harley to try to get Y/N into bed.

The whole car ride home from Arkham was torturous for her. All she wanted to do was for Y/N to stop the car and let her rip her clothes off, but she had to show at least some restraint. But when she’d been behind bars for almost a year with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company, she couldn’t exactly be blamed for being a total horndog. She sat with her hands wedged between her knees for the 45 minutes it took to get home, her legs bouncing in excitement.

As soon as they got home and the front door to the apartment was locked, Harley pounced on Y/N, almost knocking her to the floor as she mashed her lips into hers. Y/N tried to keep her balance by throwing her hands out behind her, but she toppled over anyway, Harley following and crashing on top of her.

“Cool your jets, Harl!” Y/N said as she tried to wriggle out of Harley’s grasp. “We only just got home!”

“Six months, baby!” Harley whined. “I had to go six whole months without any action! The least you could do is let me fuck you now.”

“Not in the doorway! At least hold on until we can go to bed.”

Harley huffed and got off Y/N, letting her stand up. She’d just started to push her towards the bedroom when Y/N planted her feet firmly on the ground and her hands on Harley’s shoulders.

“Alright, now just wait a second, sweetie,” Y/N said, using the same tone she would with a hyperactive child. “You just got home after being away for so long. Just take a second to enjoy being home before jumping my bones.”

“But I haven’t seen you,” Harley said with a pout. “Or your titties.”

Y/N flushed and sighed deeply.

“Okay, but give me five minutes so we can put your stuff away.”

Harley grinned and bounced on the balls of her feet before kissing Y/N again.

“You’re an angel!” Harley said as she wrapped her arms around her. “I could do with a shower, my skin’s all dry from that nasty Arkham soap.”

“Take as much time as you need, I’ll still be here.”

When she’d finished putting Harley’s things back in their places, Y/N was ambushed by an overpowering smell of shower and bath products. Clearly, Harley didn’t mind what scents went with each other and just went for whatever she liked most. Y/N faced into the closet as Harley wrapped her arms around her and pulled her into her body, her hands roaming under her shirt until they cupped each of her breasts.

“Harley, is there a reason why you’re completely naked?” Y/N asked as Harley started to kiss her neck.

“I just got outta the shower,” Harley purred into her skin and pushed her fingers underneath Y/N’s bra. “And I want to play with my girl.”

“Can’t I at least take my clothes off first?” Y/N said, her breath shuddering as she relaxed back into Harley’s body.

“But that’s my job,” she said as she caught her hard nipples between her fingers. “Taking the wrapping off is just as fun as what’s inside.”

Y/N whimpered and grabbed at Harley’s arms, feeling her soft, newly moisturised skin and she let her head fall back onto her shoulder as she nipped at her neck.

“C’mon, babydoll, let’s have some fun.”

She let go of Y/N and turned her around to lead her to the bed, making sure she got a good view of her body. When she noticed her staring, she twirled around and fluffed her hair, showing her pale skin and slender curves from all angles.

“Like what ya see, sugar?” Harley purred, taking note of how Y/N’s eyes were fixated on her, trailing from her legs, her hips, her perky breasts, and up to her face.

Y/N swallowed and nodded, her mouth too dry to say anything while the space between her legs started to throb. Harley sat on the mattress with her legs wide, her bare pussy exposed as she grabbed Y/N’s hand and guided her to stand between her legs.

“Can I take this off, honey?” she asked as she toyed with the hem of her shirt. Y/N nodded and let her pull it up and over her head, standing up again to throw it to the other side of the room before immediately removing her bra. “I definitely want this off.”

Y/N shivered slightly when the air hit her bare skin, her nipples hardening even more as her skin burned under Harley’s gaze. Harley bit her lip and groaned softly as she reached out to caress her breasts with both hands, rolling them in her palms and softly squeezing them before kissing each one.

“God I missed these girls so much,” she said, her voice muffled by the soft skin of Y/N’s breasts. “But you’re still wearing too many clothes.”

Y/N pushed her sweatpants down to the floor and wriggled her legs free of them without needing to move away from Harley, leaving her in just her panties. Just as Harley dipped her fingers into the waistband, she stopped and admired the cotton garment.

“These are so cute!” she cooed and grabbed her hips to turn her around so her back was facing her. “Bend over a second.” 

Y/N was confused but did as she was told, bending her torso down slightly as Harley sat down again. Just as she looked back to see what she was doing, she felt Harley pinch and smack her behind, making her squeak and almost lose her balance.

“Harley,” she whined impatiently as Harley rested her head on her lower back, caressing her behind and squeezing, just as she’d done with her breasts.

“You look good in these, baby,” Harley purred as she pulled away. “But they’ll look even nicer on the floor.”

Y/N couldn’t help how hard her pussy clenched at her words. For as distracted and silly as she could be in the bedroom, Harley knew exactly how to get her girlfriend in the mood. She said things that would sound corny coming from anybody else but that was exactly what she loved about her.

“C’mere,” Harley said and patted the mattress between her legs. “But leave those on.”

Y/N climbed into Harley’s lap, her legs on either side of her and her arms loosely wrapped around her shoulder. She could feel her cool breath on her warm skin, their faces just centimetres apart and their chests pushing together. Harley stroked Y/N’s back softly, tracing the notches of her spine with her fingertips and dipping them into the waistband of her panties.

“I really missed you, y’know,” she said softly. “Like, a lot.”

“I missed you too,” Y/N said in return, smiling warmly. She squeaked in surprise when Harley closed the gap between them, her soft lips on hers, caressing and drinking her in as she pulled her body closer and closer until she fell back onto the mattress, Y/N still on top of her.

Y/N eagerly returned her kiss and cradled Harley’s face in her hands, her eyes fluttering closed as warmth spread throughout her body, starting at her core and ending at her fingertips. Her lips parted slightly to let Harley slip her tongue between them, tasting her sweet mouth as Y/N tangled her fingers in her hair. She moved her hands down further to cup her behind and dipped her fingers under her panties, feeling her pooling arousal. Y/N whined against her lips when she felt her fingers circle her throbbing clit and broke off the kiss to catch her breath.

Without missing a beat, Harley trailed her kisses down Y/N’s neck and collarbones and moved her hands to underneath her breasts, squeezing and pinching them to make her whine and moan.

“Lie down, honey,” she said. “I want to play with these.”

Y/N got up and shuffled up the bed to lie down, her head resting on the pillow and her legs spread wide for Harley to lie between. She watched her as she crawled up her body, a wolfish expression on her face as she laid her face on her sternum between her breasts.

“God, I really missed these girls,” she purred into her skin before kissing softly.

“More than me?” Y/N teased as she ran her fingers through Harley’s hair.

“Of course not,” Harley said and nuzzled her face into Y/N’s warm skin. “I missed all of you.”

“I missed you too,” Y/N said, her breath hitching when Harley brushed her lips over her hard nipple.

She let her body relax into the mattress as Harley laved her tongue across her sensitive skin, teasing her nipple with the tip of her tongue before taking it into her mouth and sucking gently. Harley used her free hand to fondle the other breast, rolling it around in her palm and squeezing before teasing the nipple with her fingers. She could feel herself getting wetter as she played with her soft breasts and she had a good feeling that Y/N was too.

Harley switched her attention to Y/N’s other breast, leaving wet kisses and licking the nipple before taking it into her mouth and sucking again. She listened to how Y/N moaned softly as she played with her hair, running her nails through her roots and playing with the faded colours at the ends. Her hand trailed down Y/N’s body as she continued to worship her breasts, skimming over her stomach until it reached her sopping pussy.

“You’re so wet, baby,” Harley purred, her teeth grazing against Y/N’s nipple. “You’re gonna ruin these cute panties. How ‘bout I take ‘em off?”

“Please,” Y/N whined, pushing her hips into Harley’s hand.

Harley let go of her nipple and crawled back down her body, settling herself between her spread legs, her face eye level with her dripping cunt. She ran her fingers along the crotch of her panties, delighting in how her arousal had soaked through the cotton. Y/N moaned at the contact and her pussy clenched, as if it was begging Harley to fuck her.

“You really must have missed me if you’re this desperate,” Harley teased before kissing her clit over the wet fabric. She licked her arousal off of her lips and let out a short moan. “You taste good, honey. But I want the main course, not just an appetiser.”

If she wasn’t so pent up, Y/N would have made a comment about Harley being corny in bed. She’d been without a girlfriend for half a year so she was willing to let her be as corny and stupid as she wanted as long as it meant she’d get her pussy eaten.

It felt like an eternity had passed when Harley finally pulled Y/N’s panties down her legs and tossed them aside. She gently kissed along the insides of her thighs, teasing her until Y/N whined in frustration and tugged on her hair.

“C’mon, Harl, I thought you’d been waiting months for this,” she said as she tried to push Harley’s face into her cunt.

“Okay, okay!” Harley laughed before kissing her bare clit. “So impatient.”

Her tongue finally snaked out to run through Y/N’s wet folds, gathering her arousal as she made her way back to her clit. Y/N sighed in pleasure and let her head fall back onto the pillow as Harley worked wonders with her mouth, licking and sucking her sensitive skin at a leisurely pace. Pillow princess had never been an appropriate title, but Y/N was more than happy to let Harley call the shots and do anything she wanted with her body.

“You taste good, babydoll,” Harley mumbled into her pussy. “Definitely worth the wait.”

A moan crawled out of Y/N’s throat when she felt Harley tease her entrance with two of her fingers and slowly slide them inside. She kept her fingers still for a moment, letting her adjust to them before gently sliding them in and out of her, building up the pleasure and making her sweet spot swell.

Harley was getting wetter and wetter as Y/N’s arousal coated her tongue and fingers, the only thought in her head was being able to taste her and make her scream. She squeezed her legs together, trying to feel some friction, and watched as Y/N squirmed and moaned above her.

“You can’t be gettin’ close already, baby,” she purred as she started to curl her fingers into her sweet spot. “We’ve only just started.”

Y/N’s stomach was tying itself into knots as Harley worked her body into a frenzy, her clit twitching under her tongue and her pussy clenching around her fingers. A fire was spreading through her body despite the slow pace and she wanted nothing more than to trap Harley’s head between her thighs as she sucked her clit and finger fucked her pussy.

“Harley, I’m close,” Y/N said, her voice strained from keeping her moans at bay.

“Already?” Harley teased. She pulled her soaking fingers out and teased her clit with them as she lifted her head to watch Y/N writhe in frustration. Her mouth and chin were coated with her arousal, shining in the sunlight that streamed in through the window. “Want me to make you cum, sweet thing?”

“Harley, please,” Y/N begged, trying to push her head back down. Harley laughed and slid her fingers back into her desperate pussy.

“Anything you want, princess.”

Harley immediately set a faster pace, curling her fingers into Y/N’s sweet spot firmly and sucking on her clit harshly. She had planned on taking her time with Y/N and slowly bringing her to climax, but the way her body was reacting said otherwise.

Moans and cries flew from Y/N’s mouth as Harley stirred her body up, her nerves blazing and her climax fast approaching. She planted her hands on the back of Harley’s head and mashed her face into her dripping cunt as she begged her to keep going.

“Cum for me, baby,” Harley said, her voice muffled by her pussy. “Cum on my tongue, I wanna taste it.”

Y/N’s head fell back as pleasure washed over her, engulfing her and drawing all of the air out of her lungs. Her chest heaved and her hips bucked as Harley continued to draw her orgasm out of her, her breaths finally coming out in cries and moans until her body went limp and calm.

Once her body had completely calmed down, Harley pulled her fingers out of Y/N’s spent cunt and cleaned them off with her fingers, moaning when her taste hit her tongue again. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and crawled back up the bed to hover over Y/N and press her lips to hers, making her taste herself.

“I missed your taste,” Harley whispered against Y/N’s lips as Y/N cupped her perky behind with her hands.

“I wanna taste you,” Y/N said, her voice hoarse from moaning so much.

“You okay to stay where you are?” Harley asked. Y/N nodded, her body too boneless to do much else. “Good, cos I wanna sit on this pretty face of yours.”

Y/N swallowed and licked her lips as Harley placed her knees on either side of her head and lowered her wet pussy down onto her mouth. Her arousal immediately hit her tongue and flooded her mouth with her taste. Y/N ran her flattened tongue across Harley’s folds and clit, tasting her as if she was a sweet treat before paying more attention to her clit. She fluttered the tip of her tongue against the sensitive bud, making Harley writhe against her mouth.

“Don’t tease, baby,” Harley whined as she tried to smother Y/N with her pussy.

“You always tease me,” Y/N said, her voice muffled as she continued to pleasure her with her tongue. “It’s only fair that I tease you back for once.”

Harley huffed and grabbed hold of the headboard before grinding her core against Y/N’s mouth, making her flatten her tongue and keep her head still for her to ride. The bed creaked with every roll of her hips and the slack headboard knocked against the wall but neither of them seemed to care very much. They didn’t have neighbours to get mad at them and the bedroom was on an outside wall so they could make as much noise as they liked.

Harley certainly seemed determined to be as loud as she wanted. Moans and cries flew from her lungs as Y/N continued to lick and suck her, running her hands along her thighs and groping her ass as she drove her into a frenzy. She figured that Harley must have gone through her entire sentence without even touching herself since she could tell that she was already close.

“Y/N,” Harley moaned shamelessly. “I’m gonna cum, baby.”

Y/N wrapped her lips around Harley’s clit and sucked hard, her hands firmly holding her hips to keep her in place. She let her eyes drift closed and felt Harley grab her head, running her nails along her scalp as her arousal coated her face and her clit twitched in her mouth.

Breathlessly, Harley came into Y/N’s mouth, her cunt clenching and unclenching before her hips bucked wildly and she let her breath out in a loud cry. She gasped and panted as Y/N continued to lick her through her high, bringing her back down slowly and gently by stroking her skin and kissing her spent pussy until she’d caught her breath again.

With one final pleasured sigh, Harley lifted herself off Y/N’s face and moved around to flop down on top of her as she wiped her mouth clean, her face resting between her breasts. She could hear her thudding heartbeat through her chest and let herself be fully enveloped by Y/N’s warmth. 

They stayed like that for a moment, listening to each other breathe as the city continued to move outside. Y/N could have sworn that Harley was starting to fall asleep on her chest when she suddenly lifted herself up and shuffled up to kiss her. Harley’s lips were soft against hers, kissing her leisurely rather than crazed and desperate as she had when they first got home.

“I missed you,” Harley said against Y/N’s mouth before kissing her again.

“You already told me that,” Y/N said with a laugh. “Like, three times.”

“Well, that’s just how much I missed you!” Harley said as she pulled away.

“I missed you too, Harl,” Y/N said and pulled Harley back into her body, her arms tight around her as if she never wanted to let her go. “Just stay out of trouble this time.”

“I can’t make any promises, sugar,” Harley said. “But I’ll try for you.”

#harley quinn x reader #harley quinn x you #harley quinn imagine #harley quinn smut #dc x reader #dc x you #dc imagine #dc smut #dceu x reader #dceu x you #dceu imagine #dceu smut #f/f fic #f/f smut #female reader #sapphic smut #*nsfw #*my writing

[doomsday-dj]

I wrote all day and here this is: Desire Is No Light Thing

Rizzoli & isles Rating: Mature Words: 4822

Maura has had enough. 

She parks her car in front of the professor’s house and leans forward so she can see the upstairs windows. The bedroom light is still on, its warm glow leaking out around the edges of the drapes, alerting her to the fact that Jane is still up. If the light alone doesn’t suffice, Maura watches as the curtain flutters and the light from inside flashes brighter just for a moment, surely a result of Jane’s sixth sense reliably alerting her to an unexpected presence. Something flutters inside Maura’s chest too, a flame grows then wanes. 

There’s no turning back now. 

Or is there? If Maura just drove away, would Jane inquire about it? She definitely would have, once. In fact, there would not be any need to follow up. A couple years ago Maura’s phone would already be ringing; Jane’s wiry frame, her explosion of hair, would already be silhouetted in the opened door of the house. 

Tonight, the door remains shut. The only light on is still the one in the bedroom. 

So, okay. Maybe for Jane this can still be forgotten. But for Maura, there’s no turning back now. 

The moment she’d left Jane’s sublet, Maura’s gut started twisting itself into knots over the conversation they’d had. She’d driven all the way home, parked, and got as far as putting her hand on the door handle before she was starting the car back up and pulling out. 

Jane had worried out loud that everyone was moving on and she was still the same. Maura had reassured Jane that Jane was changing too and she was—Jane was unquestionably different from the woman with whom Maura had first become friends. But ‘change’ is value neutral and as soon as Maura stepped out onto the street her mind started hammering away on whether the cumulative differences in Jane truly amounted to change for the better. 

So now she’s back. Maura steels herself with a deep, fortifying breath and steps out of the car. Before she can knock, the door opens and the hallway light comes on at the same time. Jane had crept downstairs without turning on any lights. Maura winces a little at the unexpected brightness.

“Maura.” Jane’s tone isn’t exactly questioning, but she does sound puzzled. She says Maura’s name like it’s an unexpected piece of evidence in an ongoing investigation. 

“Jane.” Maura makes sure her own tone is firm. She looks Jane over quickly. Jane has since gotten ready for bed, now clad in well-worn pajama pants and a thin white tank top, that stupid fake tattoo standing out starkly around and beneath it. Maura knows it’s not possible, but the bruise on Jane’s forehead somehow looks worse than it did half an hour ago.  It all softens Jane and Maura isn’t sure if this will make things easier or harder. 

“Did you forget something?” Jane asks, not yet moving out of the doorway. She looks over her shoulder, scanning the kitchen and small living room for any reason Maura might have returned. 

“No. Well—yes. Can I come in, please?” 

Jane turns back to Maura in surprise. She looks down at her own socked feet, set in a wide stance and blocking the path into the house, as if shocked to find herself barricading the entrance. She backs off quickly, hand still on the doorknob. 

“Yeah, sorry, of course,” Jane says. Maura passes quickly through and Jane shuts the door behind her. “Uh, so you forgot—”

“You have changed,” Maura says, whirling around on her heels to face Jane. Jane looks only increasingly perplexed. 

“Yeah, you said so earlier.” Jane speaks slowly, wheels turning as she tries to figure out what’s going on. “And I appreciate—”

“I’m just not sure if all of it’s good.” Maura exhales sharply, almost triumphantly, as she blows past the point of no return. 

There’s a flash of annoyance on Jane’s face first, likely a result of being interrupted for a second time, but it quickly shifts into confusion as she processes what Maura has said. A flicker of hurt and then Jane’s expression goes hard. Her back straightens and she stalks closer to Maura. In their everyday life this often has an intimidating effect, but with Maura in heels and Jane without shoes at all it only draws Jane up to Maura’s full height. Maura looks on defiantly. 

“What did you say?” Jane says. 

“I think I’ve made a mistake, Jane. I’m just not sure if it’s one big one or many cumulative ones.” Maura turns away from Jane and walks over to the kitchen counter where their half-drunk bottle of red still stands. She pours herself a generous serving before turning back. 

Jane blinks. “You’ve made a—sorry, I’m stuck on the ‘changed for the worst’ implication. Could you possibly, uh, elaborate?” Jane’s irritation is present in her voice but there’s something else colouring the edges and Maura’s pretty sure it’s fear. 

“I think your relationship with your mother has improved. Though, for the record, I think it’s because she’s put a lot of work into becoming her own person as much as it’s anything you’ve done,” Maura says and Jane draws her head back like she’s being attacked. 

“Maura, what the hell. Where is this coming from?” 

“You’ve been withdrawing from everyone, Jane. From everyone , but especially from me. I think I first really noticed it after your apartment burned down and I told myself that when we caught Alice, you’d return to me—to us.” 

Jane’s eyebrows hit her hairline. Shoot. Maura might have shown her hand a little. She plows ahead. 

“But you didn’t. You got worse, in fact. And when I started to really think about it, I realized the roots of this go back much further, way before Alice, though I’m not exactly sure how far. I think maybe around the time of the bridge.”

Jane scoffs loudly. “Maura, I’m just trying to have boundaries.” 

“Boundaries?” Maura’s tone is skeptical. 

“Yeah, boundaries.” Jane hits the ‘b’ loudly and snaps off each word. “I realized everything was a little too entwined and I’m trying to change that.” 

“You realized this after the bridge?” Maura speaks calmly and from the way Jane relaxes just slightly, Maura knows the detective is about to walk into her trap. 

“Yeah, after the bridge.” 

“Let me get this straight, then.” Maura takes a slow sip of her wine. “You jumped off a bridge, and then, in your estimation, everyone was a little too concerned you may have drowned in the fucking Atlantic ocean?” Maura’s voice starts off quiet but she’s nearly yelling at the end of it. Jane’s eyes bug out when Maura swears. It takes Jane a moment to collect herself before she can speak. 

“My family needs—”

“No, stop.” Maura holds her hand up. Jane’s jaw clenches. 

“I swear to god, Maura, if you interrupt me one more—”

“You’ll what?” Maura does it on purpose, with relish. Jane’s eyes narrow dangerously but both women know that whatever Jane was going to finish with would only be an empty threat. Jane doesn’t continue, so Maura does. 

“I don’t want to talk about your family, Jane. I think you’re withdrawing from them too, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t actually care about that right now. I want to talk about us.” 

“Us?” Jane says it so skeptically, like the concept of an ‘us’ composed of her and Maura is a foreign concept. The nerve of it is astounding. Static roars in Maura’s ears and a war begins inside of her, one between nature and nurture. Every drop of Southie blood circulating through her system wants to grab Jane, maybe hit Jane, while her Boston Brahmin upbringing urges her to cut with ice. She pulls a long breath in through her nose and throws her shoulders back, forcing her features into impassive lines. It doesn’t exactly settle the age-old debate, Maura just knows Jane well enough that she's certain which will hurt more. 

“Yes, Jane. Us. We were best friends.” Jane’s face twitches at the use of the past tense and Maura makes sure she doesn’t betray any of the satisfaction she feels.

“We were too close,” Jane says dismissively and Maura gains another edge because unlike Jane, she doesn’t react when cut. 

“According to whom?” Maura asks coolly. 

“Being close to me is how people get hurt, Maura. You kept getting hurt.”  Jane shrugs. 

Maura scoffs and drains the rest of the wine in one go. She slowly licks her lips and watches as Jane’s eyes dart away from her own for just the briefest moment. It’s all Maura needs to be sure of her next move. 

“So I think it’s both,” Maura says. Jane is immediately confused. Maura lets her sit in that confusion as she sets her glass down and takes a few slow steps over to Jane. “I think I’ve made one big mistake but I’ve also made many cumulative mistakes.”

“You don’t really make mistakes, Maur.” Jane’s voice has softened and she is scared, Maura realizes. The nickname, in the heat of battle, is a dead giveaway. Jane is trying to thaw the ice, soften Maura’s edges. Maura refuses to be made docile. 

“Professionally, no. Almost none. Personally? Romantically? A litany.” Maura watches Jane swallow harshly at ‘romantically.’ 

“Let me tell you about some of the ones specific to you, Jane. The first one isn’t really my fault, I don’t think. You were the first best friend that I had so I made the mistake of believing that the way we were around each other was how friends behaved. I believed that friends touched as much as we did, slept together as much as we did. I made the mistake of thinking that the way I came to feel was my fault, because nothing about how we interacted was unusual.”

Maura watches as Jane’s nostrils flare slightly, giving away Jane’s need for a deep, steadying breath.

“Another mistake, Jane, is that in the last few years I’ve made myself small for you. Everywhere else in my life I’ve blossomed and I won’t be so cruel as to deny that a lot of that is to your credit. I have friendships that are independent of you. I’ve stood up for myself with my odd assortment of parents. I have cultivated, I think, a pretty good sense of humour. I’ve come to know what I truly want out of life.”

Maura looks Jane right in the eyes and takes a deep breath. 

“But while I grew big everywhere else I’ve let you push me away and I’ve let you put me in a box. I’ve supported you every time you’ve come to me for help and I’ve asked almost nothing in return. I thought, perhaps, you were on a journey to greater self-awareness, that the distance would allow you to see better, but you’ve just decided to keep running.” Maura lets her words breathe for a moment, then finishes with an uppercut.

 “And my big mistake, Jane, is that I thought you were brave. But you’re actually a coward.” 

Jane reacts like she’s been shot and Maura knows that for a fact, since she’s seen it happen. The accusation pulls all the oxygen out of Jane’s lungs and she fills them with hot air, ready to defend herself against the truth. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jane’s yelling now. “Pulling away from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but it was the only thing I could do. I had to protect you.” Jane had stood stock still while Maura spoke but now her limbs fly everywhere as she gestures grandly. “Every bad thing that happens to you is because we’re too close and being in my orbit was going to get you killed eventually.  Hell, before you got here I was on the phone with Agent Davies, asking about a job at Quantico. That way you’re safe and everyone else doesn’t have to worry about me.” 

Jane drops her little revelation about the FBI like it’s checkmate and, not for the first time, Maura wonders if she’s actually any good at chess.

“No, Jane,” Maura says derisively. “Every bad thing that happened to me is because we weren’t close enough. If you want to run off to Virginia to protect yourself , be my guest, but don’t pretend that I’ve ever benefited from any distance between us.”

“What?” Jane exclaims. “Maura, please be real.” 

“I’m being very fucking real, Jane. For the first time, perhaps. I’ve been so, so happy to have you in my life and for a long time I wasn’t willing to risk anything by rocking the boat. But now, apparently, I’m going to lose you anyway so there’s nothing to risk.” 

Jane’s eyes flash in warning as Maura comes right up to the edge. She doesn’t care. 

“I’ve let you pretend you don’t want me, Jane. I’ve let you be so deep in denial that I think sometimes you genuinely believe you don’t. I’ve denied those feelings in myself, I’ve denied their existence to others. And everyone in our lives has played along with it. Everyone ignores it, for your sake. But turns out, the evil people in our lives have no reason to do you the courtesy of ignoring it, so they manipulate it.

“Every person that gets close enough to hurt me is able to do so because you’re pretending I’m not your weak point, but everyone knows. Everyone can see it. Hoyt saw it.”

Maura has seen Jane angrier than she is now, but never before has it been directed at Maura. She gets right up in Maura’s face and somehow manages to make herself seem taller, even in her socked feet. Despite all the fury, maybe because of it, a fire ignites between Maura’s hips. 

“You’re trying to tell me that if we—” Jane cuts herself off, still unwilling to put it into words. “You’re saying you wouldn’t have been in the infirmary with me?” 

“Of course I would have been there, but maybe we would have seen it coming. I’m certain we would have realized that given his modus operandi, I was at risk.” 

Jane glares, unconvinced. That’s fine. Maura’s trump card is her next one. She closes the last few inches of distance between them, her chest brushing up against Jane’s and their breath mingling. She dares Jane to be the one that backs off and she can feel the detective rock back on her heels for a moment before refusing to budge further. 

Good. 

“Alice Sands could see it, too, Jane,” Maura says coldly, right in Jane’s face. “All the way from prison, she could see what I meant to you, she could see how it would hurt you, and because you so badly wanted to pretend otherwise, convinced yourself otherwise, you thought it had to be Angela. So Joe Harris kidnapped me. You think that happens—” A deep breath, a redirection. She’s not going to ask a question, she’s going to state a fact. “If you have me how you want me, if we’re together like we should be, he never gets close enough.” 

Jane’s mouth falls open in shock. For a moment, Maura thinks she got through to Jane and she can feel the water rising inside her, threatening to spill. But then Jane’s jaw snaps shut, she takes two long strides away from Maura and the tide recedes. 

“None of it happens if I don’t care about you, Maura. If I’d never cared about you, if we never got close, no one could use it against me.”

“Sure, Jane, but it’s a fait accompli. ”

Jane turns around to look at her. She’s still angry, but there’s the bare hint of confusion on her features. Maura presses her lips together in a thin line and tries to come up with an idiom she’s sure she won’t mess up. 

“You can’t unscramble that egg,” Maura says, privately a little pleased with herself when it’s clear she got it right. 

Jane makes a dismissive noise, arms folding across her chest. “Based on our conversation it sounds like I have been.” 

Maura rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you think that. I’m sure over the past two years you looked at the distance between us and thought that translated into some kind of progress, believed that you’ve gotten over me. I think I probably made that easy for you, pretending I didn’t see the way you look at me. I’m about to make it easier yet because you’re going to get your wish, Jane. I’m going to walk out of here and I’m going to let you leave for Virginia. I’ll take care of your family and I’ll see you for Christmas, but I will forget you in the way that matters. It will never be what it was again, just how you want it.”  

Maura is dying inside but it’s an angry death. It’s much better than the slow one that has thus far been forced upon her. If she can’t have the passion they both deserve she will have this righteous fury as she buries what could have been.

Maura’s going to be the meteor strike and Jane can suffer the ice age that follows. 

With everything laid bare, Maura heads for the door but pauses to look around for her bag. It takes only a second for her to visualize it on the passenger seat and remember it’s still in her car but it’s enough time for Jane to make her move.  Maura feels those long fingers, the subject of more than one late night fantasy, wrap around her wrist and yank her back. It’s not gentle. She is turned around roughly, teeters precariously on the thin points of her heels, then stumbles into Jane’s chest. 

If this were a movie, Jane would kiss her. She glares angrily instead, her grip on Maura’s wrist unyielding, holding it against her chest, pinning both their arms between them.

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

Jane’s voice is nearly a growl and between the heat of it and their proximity Maura has to clear her throat to suppress a moan. She leans just her head back, unwilling to move her body because of how it’ll react if Jane uses force to keep her in place. 

“I’m leaving, Jane. Whatever this has been, it’s over. You win.” Maura stares icily. 

Jane sneers. “Is that right? So what, I try to get over you for years and I can’t, but you’re just going to make up your mind and do it?” Her tone is deeply incredulous. 

A part of Maura’s brain registers that this is, in fact, Jane’s first admission of a non-platonic feeling. This moment was supposed to be a lot more fun. 

“Correct,” Maura says plainly, like she’s confirming her phone number, and tries to pull her wrist away. Jane’s fingers tighten their hold and Maura wonders if her parting gift from their years long entanglement is going to be a bruise. 

“Good luck.” Jane tilts her chin up in challenge and speaks slowly, enunciating each word. Her expression has grown smug. “Good fucking luck. You don’t fool me. I might have been in denial but now it’s your turn.” She leans in close, too close, and there’s a cruel edge to her voice that Maura has never heard. “Because I’m in your fucking blood, Maur.” 

Jane lets go of her wrist and Maura stumbles back. She’s not sure what the worst part is—if it’s the tone of Jane’s voice, the words themselves, or the ruthless deployment of her nickname. Maybe it’s the literal truth of it, the memory of Jane’s blood being mixed into her own when Hoyt cut into them in quick succession. Whichever it is, it all tumbles together into a ball of hurt the likes of which Maura can’t remember. 

She hauls back and slaps Jane across the face. Southie wins. 

At the very moment of impact, Maura realizes that she’s striking Jane on the already-injured side of her face. Jane staggers backwards, swearing loudly, her hand flying up to cover her cheek. She stares at Maura with wild eyes. 

Maura never meant for things to get this bad. Her palm stings. She sighs, exasperated more than she is contrite. 

“Jane, I’m sorry, I—”

The rest of her apology dies in her throat because Jane lunges forward like a cobra strike and now they’re kissing. Jane’s momentum drives them both into the hallway and Maura cries out as her back hits the wall. Jane takes the opportunity to slip inside her mouth and the kissing is rough and angry and all teeth. They crudely jostle for position, and Jane bites Maura tongue while Maura retaliates by sinking her incisors into Jane’s lower lip. 

It’s the hottest moment of Maura’s entire life. They’re both slapping at each other’s hands as each fights to be the one to first undress the other, Maura’s advantage being that Jane’s barely wearing anything, and Jane’s advantage being that she’s stronger. Try as she might, Maura can’t get the tank top off of Jane because Jane’s arms are wrapped around her, trying to drag the zipper of her dress down while Maura presses back firmly, trapping Jane’s hand between Maura’s body and the wall. 

Maura considers just jamming her hand down the front of Jane’s pajama pants, certain she could have Jane speaking in tongues before she gets any further on Maura’s zipper, but instead Maura wriggles both her palms up to Jane’s chest and pushes her away, hard. 

Jane grunts as she’s propelled back a few steps and now suddenly everything is very still. Maura squeezes her thighs together and Jane sees it, eyes dark and hungry. 

“What are we doing, Jane?” 

Jane’s gaze flick up from Maura’s legs to her face. 

“We’re having a big fight and we’re going to fuck about it,” Jane says matter-of-factly. It makes Maura furious all over again. Seven years of putting up with Jane being too scared to name it and now she’s throwing around phrases like that. 

“Great, I’m looking forward to it,” Maura says dryly and it takes the wind out of Jane’s sails just enough. “I just need to know whether we’re coming or going?” Jane looks confused, and also like she briefly considers making a joke about ‘coming’, which would be just about the only thing that could derail this night. Maura rolls her eyes and tries again. “Is this hello or goodbye, Jane? I need to know beforehand.”

“Why?” Jane asks. She looks uncomfortable and Maura pieces it together. Sex is fine, it’s the feelings that are still the problem. She thinks she should have seen that coming. 

“Jane, I’m going to let you fuck me either way,” Maura says it casually and Jane’s eyebrows jump. Maura smooths a hand down the front of her dress, like there’s some decorum to be had, like it isn’t half undone and about to come off anyway. She levels Jane with a hard stare. “I just need to know if I’m giving you a little bit or if I’m giving you everything.” 

“Which one is which?” Jane asks humourlessly.

Okay, maybe there are two things Jane could say to derail this night. Maura exhales noisily. 

“Jane—”

“It’s hello.” Jane’s voice is quiet but it’s firm. Maura is caught off guard because it’s not the answer she was expecting. She was sure that this was going to be a long, sweaty goodbye and she just needed Jane to know that as good as it was going to be, it had nothing on what she’d passed on. 

Maura takes Jane in. Her hands are tightly clenched at her sides and her shoulders are back. Her dark eyes are almost flint black and she watches Maura with an unwavering intensity. Maura swallows hard. 

“If you’re lying to me, Jane…” 

“I’m not.” Jane moves forward, gets back into Maura’s space, but she doesn’t touch her yet. “You’re right about everything. I love you. I’ve loved you for years.” 

Oh shit. Tears prick at Maura’s eyes and she’s not quite ready to lose her edge like this, isn’t quite sure what to do with a declaration of love that comes so soon after she violently struck Jane in the face. She places her hands against Jane’s chest again, pushing back weakly.

“Wait, hold on.” She can’t stand how wet her voice sounds. Jane presses herself into Maura’s palms, her own hands coming up to rest against the wall, bracketing Maura’s shoulders.

“Let me love you, Maura,” Jane murmurs, her face hovering close. 

A broken sob escapes from deep in Maura’s chest. Jane doesn’t interrupt it, skipping Maura’s lips and diverting instead to her neck. The kisses are tender and exploratory and Maura’s whole body is coming online. 

“I know I don’t deserve it,” Jane says softly, her breath hot and damp against Maura’s jaw. She presses a kiss just below her ear. “But I think you should give it to me anyway.” 

Maura folds like a house of cards. She grabs Jane’s face, mindful of the now twice injured side, and brings their lips together. The first kiss was all hard edges and anger and this one is too soft and overly wet with Maura’s tears. She a little bit hates it but there’s currently no alternative and she has to take Jane at her word that there will be future opportunities to do this with less weeping. 

Every few moments Maura has to break them apart to draw in a raspy breath or sniffle loudly. 

Jane is undeterred. She guides Maura’s arms so they’re wrapped firmly around her neck and hikes her dress up. Her hand slips into Maura’s panties and Maura cries out softly as Jane parts her quickly, two fingers circling her clit before traveling further south. Maura feels Jane hesitate and she urgently bucks her hips into Jane’s hand. Maura doesn’t want Jane to ask, doesn’t want Jane to say anything about how she doesn’t know what she’s doing. She just wants Jane to take her. She wants Jane to take care of her. 

Jane, thankfully, understands. Two fingers slide easily into Maura and she moans and lets her head fall back against the wall with a quiet thud. Jane presses her lips against Maura’s throat. 

“You’re perfect,” Jane groans. “You feel…” Jane doesn’t finish, possibly she can’t, and she just mouths at Maura’s neck, biting and sucking gently, her tongue alternating between pointed and flat and Maura can think of only one thing. Jane fucks her gently to start, her hand moving smoothly, finger curling, hooking against almost the exact right spot. Maura’s about to chalk it up to Jane’s incredible intuition but she realizes that Jane is likely just doing to Maura what she personally enjoys and that idea is somehow better. 

Maura realizes she’s stopped crying. 

“More,” Maura breathes. Jane looks up. 

“Harder?”

“Both.” Maura kisses her firmly, running her tongue along Jane’s teeth. 

Jane withdraws two fingers and goes about redoubling her efforts with three, Maura’s shoulders knocking back against the wall with every thrust. 

Everything about this is wrong. Not the fact that they’re fucking of course, but it wasn’t supposed to happen like this—sloppily, against a wall, after a fight. Jane isn’t supposed to have a neck tattoo and Maura isn’t supposed to be worried about how much mucus she’s producing. 

It feels exquisite. 

Maura shamelessly wipes her face against Jane’s tank top and Jane’s shoulders shake with a quiet laugh and that above all else is the moment when Maura realizes this really is hello. Before she can ask for it, Jane presses her thumb against her clit and Maura’s whole world constricts down to the space between her legs. 

“You’re so pretty,” Jane says breathlessly and that’s all it takes. Maura comes hard around Jane’s three fingers, rolling her hips into her hand, dropping her own hand to Jane’s wrist to keep her where she is, to teach Jane right away what Maura needs to rides out her climax. Jane keeps fucking her, slowing down gradually, replacing the thumb on Maura’s clit with her palm and rocking her hand gently, all the while murmuring soft praise.

Maura’s body wilts. It’s only Jane’s quick reaction that keeps her from sliding down to the floor and Jane holds her firmly upright as Maura finally kicks herself out of the heels she somehow still had on. Reduced to their usual height difference, Maura curls herself into Jane’s chest. 

“You’ll stay?” Jane asks, as if there’s any chance that Maura could return home in the state she’s in. But Maura plays along, nods against Jane’s chest. 

“I will.” Maura breathes deeply and pulls back to look Jane in the eyes. “And you’ll stay?” 

Jane nods without hesitation. 

“I will.”

#rizzles #rizzoli and isles #femslash #f/f fanfic #f/f #f/f romance #maura isles #jane rizzoli #rizzles fanfic #rizzoli and isles fanfiction #one shot #smut #angst with a happy ending #f/f smut

[perfctvelvet]

A Sweet Treat

Stepmom!Margot Robbie/Reader

"Have you seen Margot?"

"N-No I haven't."

Y/n was completely shocked to see how oblivious her father was to her unsteady breathing and flustered face. She hates to lie because she knows exactly where her step-mother is; she's under the table having her "breakfast."

Y/n is so fearful that she might slip up and accidentally moan, which would give away the truth, but it feels impossibly hard not to moan when Margot has her fingers inside her needy pussy and soft lips wrapped around her clit. She miraculously makes no noises while down there so it's Y/n that has to temper herself. Margot's fingers curve inside of her and the pads of her fingers continuously rub over her sweetest spot. She definitely wants to make Y/n cum, but it also feels like she wants to make her scream which would land them both in deep trouble. It seems that that's what Margot loved the most: the thrill about getting caught, since she's willing to do something this risky. 

"Hmm, well breakfast is going to get cold -- you know what? I'll go look for her."

Y/n sighs a bit as her father leaves the kitchen. She pushes her chair back a little bit to be able to look at her stepmother on her knees and eat her pussy like she's starved. The sight leaves Y/n feeling flustered. She moves the table cloth to be able to see Margot's entire face and the blonde smiles against her pussy.

"He's a fucking idiot," she whispers when pulling away from Y/n's pussy. She fingers her step-daughter's tight, drippy pussy and bites into her bottom lip. "You have such a fucking cute pussy."

Y/n refrains from moaning but it's becoming an impossible task. Margot's two fingers rub against her sweet spot and make her legs shake. Her brain was beginning to care less and less about getting caught and more about simply just letting the pleasure in. She can hear her father upstairs calling for Margot as if she's going to answer.

"You need to hurry," Y/n urges her in fear of getting caught.

"Why? He's not gonna catch us baby," she places a kiss to Y/n's thigh to placate her, "unless my little slut is just so eager to cum for her step-mommy. Is that why you're in such a rush?" Y/n turns averts her eyes from Margot and huffs, giving Margot her answer. "That's what I thought."

As much as it is fun to tease her step-daughter, Margot is also absolutely hungry for her pussy. She tastes so sweet and her flesh is always so soft and delicate against her tongue. She hears the steps of her husband coming near the kitchen again, but she just focuses on making Y/n cum. Her perfectly manicured nails dig into her Y/n’s skin as she holds her still and eats her cunt. Goosebumps form on Y/n’s skin as she shivers and cums against her mouth. Margot almost lets out a moan when Y/n cums all over her mouth. She won’t have much time to savor her, but once her husband is off to work, she’ll take Y/n for hours and hours.

#margot robbie/reader #margot robbie smut #f/f #f/f smut

[beating-beetle-heart]

Shadow x Reader

More x reader nsfw practice! Minors dni

Pairing:

Shadow Monster x Human

F/F

There is something about the dark that pulls people. It curls, strangles, and beckons those from all walks of life. In the dark, you see things that never leave and never know if it is reality or fiction. Is it a rock, jutting out from that yard, or is a person staring? Are those misty, humanoid shapes seen in glances through the headlights of a car really just imagination? It can't be. It just can't be, Sarah refuses to accept it because if it is really all in her head...

She takes a breath, closes her eyes. The prickling against her nerves is too real, too demanding. It is not from a figment, but rather some lurking, unseen creature. Truth be told, Sarah didn't only feel it at night, but it was more noticeable in the wee, chilly hours, when the sky finishes transitioning from deep blue to black and the whole world stills. In the day the feeling is much less threatening. She'd wake to the bed sheets tucked in at the corners, a job she could never bring herself to care about enough to do. Other times, a lost object would pop into a place she'd sworn she'd checked. If anything, the presence was more helpful than frightening. The scariest parts were when shadows move a little too oddly in the corner of her eye, or when the light under a door dims despite her living alone. A helpful creature, no matter how altruistic and kind of intention, is still frightening when it is unknown. If it showed itself to her, then maybe, just maybe she'd learn to not fear. She could call to it tonight and ask it to show itself. The shadows would pull into a lump and form slowly, bit by bit, keeping her guessing till finally it completed. Or -a tingling shiver zipped down her spine- it would use the shadows to keep itself hidden even as it draws closer. Its cold form would slip across the room silent as as a dead maiden and Sarah would track its flitting bursts in rapturous greed. The thing could be looking right above her and she would have no other choice, nor want, than to follow its lead and trust.

The blat blat of Sarah's shoes against wet pavement came faster as she tried to leave her heated cheeks behind, letting them be lost and swallowed to night's gluttonous appetite. She tugged her trench coat tighter, pulling the collar high and feeling some silly joy at it. It made her feel like a detective from the movies. A stray piece of hair brushed against her mouth. She blew it away with a huff. The feeling of something following close by never once left, not even for a second. Thankfully (was she thankful?) it wasn't long before she came upon upon an old building, its bricks cracked and worn with stray pieces of litter crawling about. Color seemed faded from the entire lot. She trudged up the few stairs to the entrance and breezed through the doors, coat flapping behind. Sudden bright light had her pausing and squinting for a good minute, but a few grumbled words and head shakes later she was up the stairs and counting floors. A strike of panic pounced when, on the third floor, Sarah saw a strip of black run across the landing. Calm down, she told herself. It's alright, it's alright. It's not going to hurt you. And then, suddenly, quite inexplicably, What would it feel like to touch?

Sarah traversed the next two flights with a silent mind and set nerves. She locked the apartment door, its resounding bang trapping her determination in. Her shoes were taken off, placed neatly beside the door, and her coat hung on a chair. The black shifted to and fro till she flicked a switch and light flooded the room. In the fridge's topmost shelf sat a maple doughnut and a case of strawberries. Below that, a carton of milk, an opened packet of cheese bites, and a glass of sweet iced tea she'd made the night before. Sarah sighed, then smiled and waltzed to her room. Groceries could wait. She grabbed her laptop, earlier left nestled in her bed sheets, and began scrolling. A good hour passed during which she mindlessly ate up Feel Good stories and comedian shows, giving an occasional smile to the dark corners just in case.  Sarah laughed till her stomach hurt, but eventually the laughter calmed and the screen dimmed, and the dark sounded off its whispering rustle. She shut the laptop. Its case blurred before her eyes.

There she sat, in the middle of the bed, staring unfocused at nothing, but nought for cause of concern. Her heart fluttered, bringing a twinge of anticipation alongside every thump. She breathed once, twice, long and deep just to feel texture brush against skin. Her shirt is soft, velvety, but her jeans rubbed its rough hew over her legs. It would be nice to get out of them, to instead feel the slide of fuzzy blankets. Grin plastered over face, she got up, continuing in a leisurely way to the light switch. She flicked it off, drowning the room immediately in pitch-black soup. The change had creeping anxiety grip at her nerves and she nearly flipped it on again before refraining, using hope from the earlier night to breed fortitude.

She slid off her pants, feeling for the first time self-conscious over the act. A short, stilted giggle escaped her lips. She felt her way to the bed and gently placed the laptop on her desk. The mattress shifted amidst each movement, but it made no noise, and for that she was grateful. She pulled the covers over herself as if to fall asleep. Nothing sounded, not even the whispering caresses from before. Miraculously the neighbors stayed silent, too. They weren't awfully loud most days, but they weren't usually this quiet, either. Sarah supposed fate was looking out for her tonight. Let it hold a little longer.

She opened her mouth and wet her lips. Silent comfort turned inwards, pressing on her flesh. Slow, meticulous hands wrapped around her stomach and started squeezing. Her idea, so full of possibility before, suddenly seemed stupid. She took a gulp of air, licked her lips, kept her eyes wide open for fear of missing a sign. Her lungs forced the air out and with that air, a question.

"Are you here?"

Tick, tick, tick goes the clock. Sarah didn't dare move, except for her eyes, which scanned as far as possible in all directions. Was the Guest hiding? It'd never communicated directly, a thing that Sarah had merely assumed was possible. For all she knew, it was a speechless thing. The very notion of showing itself might be too threatening. The hand in her stomach clawed harder.

"Please, I'm not going to hurt you. Or freak out." Hopefully. Sarah shifted. "I just think it'd be nice to get to know each other. We live together, after all. I think. And... You've been kind to me..." Indirectly perhaps, but still kind. The room did not talk back. No being lurked in the abundant night. Sarah could feel her lips getting dry and licked them again, although she suspected they'd be dry tonight no matter what she did. She took another breath, proclaiming her last words with hopeful and prominent inflection. "...I'd like to thank you." Her guts twisted, only with a different tang than from earlier. Besides the anxiety lay a spark, traveling down to Sarah's crotch and lighting up the skin. She gasped, squeezing her eyes shut at the sudden self-intrusion, and she waited.

Ticking from the desk's clock gave no sense of time. The minute hand held no true sense. Her stomach eased up. Without a reply, the anxiety dissipated into disappointment. Sarah put a hand over her eyes and sighed. She first became aware of a difference in the air via sound. Her eardrums popped and crackled, letting in a slippery, swarming flood of voices. They murmured indistinguishable syllables and tickled the inside of her ears. Sarah froze, and might have stayed like that if not for the stability of the weighted blankets allowing her claim enough unto bravery to uncover her eyes. To her surprise the room looked the same as before. A few seconds of fruitless searching made her heart sink back down until, there, right there, at the edge of the bed, a playful patch of black crept over the sheets. It was flat at first, cartoon-like in such an unnatural way that it nearly gave her a headache. It formed a solid, inky hand. Deadly claw tips glinted majestically, a good thing all things considered, otherwise Sarah doubted she'd be able to make out the shape. Following that came an arm, the top of a hooded head and broad shoulders. Squirming fear and excitement filled Sarah's body. Its formation was downright magical. Its body, though pure ebony, shone as though a spotlight were following. Its edges gleamed, leaving out all the details and middle parts.

All of this did little to truly frighten Sarah. Her pounding blood was not from anguish nor her sweat from terror, so she gave it a wan smile -her nerves jittered from ideas she did not know the possibility of- and gingerly struggled her arm out of the blankets, holding her hand in her lap. The body grew closer and closer bit by bit, shrouded further by a hoodie and sweatpants made of the same obsidian. If not larger than Sarah by height, than by bulk. Its transformation seemed to finish after mere minutes, but each second was a shot of exhilaration into her veins, clouding the seconds so they felt like hours. A wide jack-o-lantern mouth was the only distinguishing feature of its "face", Its head melded within its hood. It could be butter against her fingertips. It could be a ghost's promise, cold and wispy, or it could feel like something else entirely. Her fingers itched to know.

"Oh, um..." Sarah stammered out, cheeks flushing. "Hi..."

It cocked its head and leaned in some inches, that jagged, black pit of a mouth beckoning Sarah's stare. The ceiling spun behind it. "Hello, dear."

Sarah nearly shot up, clamping the response down just as quick. "You talk!" Right after the words flew out of her mouth Sarah cringed into the bed, praying to God she hadn't just insulted the being.

The creature tsked. "I didn't want to scare you. You have been a fun thing during the past months." It -she? the voice was distinctly female, although very deep in tone- chuckled.  "I must say, I certainly wasn't expecting our first words to be..." Her hand traveled up Sarah's leg, the claws tracing its outline. Even through the blankets they were sharp enough to leave a burning trail. A throaty hmm had Sarah blinking in embarrassment. "You're sooo interesting. I didn't think you'd be so eager to see me." She paused, visage unchanging, not giving Sarah any clue as to her thoughts. Another pair of claws brushed over her other leg. Heat seared the skin and Sarah instinctively clenched up, only to be mortified by the realization that her underwear was very, very wet. Sarah couldn't hide the wide-eyed look she gave to her Guest. "Oh, sweety." Her claws tapped, tapped, tapped against Sarah's thigh. "Why did you call me tonight?"

Sarah swallowed. "To show you appreciation. And to learn to not be afraid of your shadows."

The Guest rumbled, a low, calming sound that weaved its way to the very core of Sarah's soul. "I think," she purred, hand coming up to grab Sarah's wrist, "I can help with both tonight." The Guest's hand was warm. It was satin, wrapping and slipping around skin. Occasionally small pockets stuck to Sarah's hand, feeling so much like tiny suckers. Sarah brought her other hand out only for the Guest to snatch it. With one hand she held both of Sarah's aloft, inching them above the woman's head. Sarah could have whined if the notion weren't so embarrassing. She did, however, rub her thighs to feel the slick smear. With her other hand, the Guest pulled the blankets back with ease. As she did, it seemed the darkness surrounding her form moved, too. She held them just above Sarah's crotch and Sarah could do nothing but lay there in agony, blushing at the guest's light chuckle. "Look at you. It's an honor you're so..." She took a heady "breath", then laughed again. "You're going to be such a good little toy, aren't you?"

Sarah bucked up, gasping and writhing at the rush of fire blowing through her nerves. She bit her lip, nearly crying out "Yes, yes I'll be good." The thought made her cheeks pink, but it was all she wanted.

The Guest trailed a claw down Sarah's stomach. "No words? It's okay, dear. I want to hear your pretty sounds. I want everything."

At that Sarah did cry out. She whined and sputtered promises to behave. The blanket was removed completely, exposing her heated skin to the cool night air. "Please," she groaned, twisting her wrists in the Guest's grasp. "Please touch me!"

Those claws dragged across sensitive skin, drawing whimpers and a rush of wet. The Guest shuffled down so that ragged mouth hovered over Sarah's poor, tortured vulva. Staring through ecstasy-filled fog, Sarah almost didn't comprehend the protrusion sliding out from behind her "teeth". It was long and shadowy, glistening with the same light covering the rest of her body, only this gloss moved. It dripped from the appendage, thin as thread. Those threads wrapped around each other, tasting, searching.

Oh, Sarah thought. It's a tongue.

Its tip tapered while the bulky base held ridges standing at attention. The very sight of it wrung moans from parted lips. Guest leaned down, one hand on Sarah's wrists, the other circling her thigh. Before Sarah's eyes, her shape changed. From the sides grew two bulges, nearly imperceptible, but they kept growing. Lumps expanding out, and from those lumps sharp ends sprouted like the branches on a tree. It wasn't till Guest was finished that Sarah could tell she'd sprouted extra arms. With two free hands, Guest latched onto Sarah's side and slid her hands under Sarah's shirt, pinning her down. Sarah bucked again and again, sobbing, but to no avail. Those smooth, sucker-covered hands flicked her nipples, sending jolts of pleasure which Sarah took greedily. "Harder," she whined.

One of the Guest's suckers crept over flesh till it poised directly above her nipple, then they dropped to the skin and sucked. They sucked while those claws worked the skin of Sarah's breasts, leaving nothing but a writhing mess in their wake. Finally, finally, Sarah thought. She stopped paying attention to the Guest's movements, stopped knowing anything but the overwhelming desire blazing in her soul. And so she didn't notice when the Guest inched that tongue further out, but she definitely noticed when it swiped over her wet panties. Only once, before moving to circle her privates. It was slimier than her hands, but that slime was alive. Strands brushed over delicate nodes, sucked tiny hickies where no one else could see. Sarah's back arched through the air and her chest shook. When the Guest decided Sarah's suffering was stretched and made pitiful enough, the Guest slid that tongue over the thin panties covering Sarah's poor hole. "Good toy," she purred. Her tongue slid under the cloth, taunting, and suddenly wrapped itself like a glove around the entire thing. Strands got to work fast. Everywhere, all at once Sarah felt herself being touched. She cried out as suckers latched onto her clit. She clutched at the hands holding her when a multitude of tentacles trailed towards her hole, prodding the entrance with curiosity. A fire burned in her stomach, blazing and bright. It ran hotter, hotter. She felt as though she would burst.

"Guest, please!" Sarah begged. The tongue plunged into her hole, wiggling against soft flesh and stretching her walls in ways that had her curling her toes. The suckers on her clit began moving, Sarah's vision exploded with stars. That fire burned impossibly high, Sarah didn't know how long she'd last. "I've be-en a g-good toy, please!" Her breath came in short gasps, pushing the words out, they were her only hope.

The Guest trilled. "Don't worry honey, I'll take care of you."

She didn't let up. Sarah threw her head back, the movements only getting faster and harder. Her fire reached its tipping point when the Guest wrapped a second tongue around her throat. The added hold had Sarah screaming her finish. The room filled with the sound of her voice and the growls of the Guest. It shook with the force of their passion. By the time Sarah had come down from her high, she was sure several neighbors were thoroughly furious. The Guest unraveled herself from Sarah and delicately ran a claw through her hair. Sarah smiled and nuzzled into it. "We should do that again sometimes," she murmured.

The guest snorted. "Not tonight. You'd break." The way she said it, Sarah wasn't sure her breaking would be a bad thing. "Another night." The Guest's form snuggled into the sheets, pushing into Sarah's side. They wrapped around each other. The goal was a success, Sarah thought. She felt no fear, and she knew, for sure, that she wanted to see more. But, as the Guest said, that would have to wait for another night.

#shadow monster #f/f smut #f/f #nsft #exophilia #terato #monsterfucker #monster girlfriend #x reader #writing practice #monsterlover

[fail-eacan]

I just watched a youtube video about the prevelance of m/m shipping and comparative lack of f/f (and even m/f) in fandoms across the board. The maker of the video had many good points but what really struck me was realising just how much focus fanfiction puts on penetrative sex.

Not a topic I thought I’d be writing about ever, but here we are!

The youtuber (ObviouslyQueer) pointed it out and I can’t unsee it. The was sex in fandom is framed as all building to orgasm as its only purpose, the way that orgasm is expressed through male vocabulary in a way I just can’t even imagine a female equivalent for, it just blows my mind and I can’t even adequately describe to you how much of a breakthrough this feels like to me.

I have never had sex or watched porn of any variety, and partially due to that and partially due to my surprisingly prudish nature when it comes to displays of affection in my writing, I have never written anything that could be interpreted as sexual.

But if I were asked to, I could give you both m/m and f/m smut within a few minutes. Easily. I know the format. I know exactly how it all works out, at least in fanfic. I know the patterns.

Not so for f/f. Where would I even start? I haven’t read anything that discusses sti prevention in f/f relationships, I don’t know how consent or a conversation about sexual encounters would work in an f/f relationship. I can’t even picture it. How does it come about? What happens during? What happens after? Fundamentally, I don’t know how f/f sex works. And I couldn’t write anything about it. I don’t know any type of sex, but I could fake it with f/m and m/m. Why is this?

Additionally, what little f/f fic I’ve read has either had no sex, or had some sort of substitute penis- shapeshifting, straps, toys. And it always reads like something a kindergartener glued together in the dark. Because nobody has a clue what they’re talking about. And some people must, right? Why do they not write about it? Is it that stupid repression of female sexuality makes it feel awkward in a way other sex scenes aren’t?

I know it’s partially lack of representation and partially internalised misogyny but why does it feel so fake?

I think I’m rambling and also wording stuff wrong I just need to get this out and I’m still in my eureka mindframe.

#mlm #flm #flf #f/f fic #m/m smut #f/f smut #misogyne is how you spell it maybe help #sexuality #fanfic #fandom #this is genuine #lgbt representation #wolfstar #solangelo #buddie

[ricihh]

Another request! robot lesbian sex for yall 😋

Rating: E

Fandom: Brawl Stars

Relationship: Max/Nani

Main Tags: Wire Play, Robot Sex, First Time, Established Relationship

Warnings: No Tws!

Summary: Sensations were a very important part of Max's life, so it was extremely frustrating that her girlfriend couldn't feel them as she should.

That is, if an incident in Nani's internal system and Max's great altruism didn't end up accidentally making them discover a surprising sensation that Nani can feel.

#brawl stars #brawl stars nani #brawl stars max #Max x Nani #Nani x Max #oneshot #smut #f/f ship #f/f smut #robot smut #robot sex #wire play #first time #overstim kink #established relationship #fluff #coming untouched #plot what plot #fanfic #fanfiction #my fic

[shrewdgoldfish]

Well, I've officially got five non-bot followers on this blog, which is a miracle in and of itself these days on Tumblr. As promised, here's a sneak peek at Chapter 6! It's currently sitting at around 5,000 words and counting. I'm super excited to get it up on ao3-- it should be out sometime this week!

I also have a spin-off in the works, but it's ahead of What's Left Over and would spoil quite a few major plot details. I'm steaming through it, though, and I can't wait until I can finally share it. I'll give you a hint: there's going to be lots and lots of flowery dialogue.

CWs, both for what's under the cut and the fic as a whole:

BDSM, abusive relationships, emotional manipulation, abuse of power

Generally, it's a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat situation.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Read the chapters that have come out so far over on my ao3!

#GoT fanfiction #sansa x cersei #sansa stark #cersei lannister #ao3 writer #got #asoiaf #asoiaf fanfic #evil women #sansa x margaery #sansa stans #f/f smut #f/f #margaery tyrell #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #a song of ice and feels #angst #poor sansa isnt going to catch a break for a long long long long time #sneak peek #goldfish wips #wlw #please ignore the scroll bar in the third screenshot lol

[doomsday-dj]

Right in the Kisser Rizzoli & Isles Rating: E Words: 4118

Blood pools in Jane’s mouth as she runs the tip of her tongue along her teeth, a quick and dirty inventory she repeats twice before hocking a glob of thick red spit onto the pavement. She holds up one bloody palm to halt the frantic approach of a wide-eyed Maura. 

“I’m fine,” Jane gurgles. Her lips are lightly coated and there’s a faint mist of pink when Jane hits ‘f’ in ‘fine’ that belies her claim. Her mouth is watering or at least she hopes it is—she definitely wants all this wet to be a result of excess saliva production and not blood loss. She spits again, frowns at the new spot of streaky red on the pavement and wonders why the two fluids combine to be so much grosser than either one of them on their own. She keeps her face pointed at the ground but tilts her gaze to peer up at Maura.

The extent to which Maura doesn’t believe Jane’s claim of being fine is being broadcast silently across her features but she has nonetheless heeded to the red-smeared hand held up at her. She stands helplessly, still holding the bat, radiating guilt. 

“It’s not your fault,” Jane says, and drools a little as she says it. She wipes the edge of her mouth with the back of her hand and winces as she inadvertently brushes against the cut in her lip. 

It’s a little Maura’s fault. 

It’s mostly Jane’s, at least 90%, but there’s a small portion of blame that can be laid at Maura’s feet, though Jane isn’t sure she’s ready to admit to her exactly why. 

Their friendship is an affectionate one and always has been. Lately, it’s grown to become even more flirtatious and increasingly physical. They’ve both toed the line in the sand so much that it’s become impossible to tell where it had initially been drawn and today is another new twist. 

A couple hours ago, Maura had skipped out of her house wearing an outfit so reminiscent of Jane’s high school gym uniform that it was virtually impossible Maura hadn’t researched it: royal blue track shorts with white piping down the sides and along the (very short) hem, paired with a worn-soft heather grey t-shirt, one that seemed unfairly threadbare considering Jane had never seen Maura wear it. It’s not like Maura’s regular exercise clothes leave a ton to the imagination, but something about swapping all that form-fitting lycra for baby soft cotton had Jane reeling from the jump. 

Jane had done her best to return the favour once they got to the cages. She stood unnecessarily close when adjusting Maura’s form, let hands linger on her hips when showing her how to engage them in her swing, corrected Maura sharply when she didn’t follow instructions and praised her generously when she did. She could tell it was all getting to Maura. When, rather than just telling Maura to widen her stance, Jane had instead kicked her feet apart exactly as she would before patting down a perp, Maura had outright gasped. 

Perversely, it had resulted in one of their most productive practice sessions yet. Whether it was all the flirtatious energy fueling it or just Maura’s stubborn refusal to be thrown off her game, she had been making considerable progress on perfecting her swing. Between loaded words and heavy looks the ball had really started to sing off Maura’s bat. 

And then it’d happened. Jane had been loudly reminding Maura about relaxing her grip, shouting soft hands, soft hands as the pitching machine loaded the next ball into its little trebuchet, and Maura had fixed her eyes on Jane and said it:

“Yes, Coach.”

Jane’s brain had short-circuited right when Maura fouled off the pitch.

Now, with her hands and face streaked with red, Jane is very aware that her one saving grace is that she booked the two of them for these particular batting cages instead of the better ones further out of the city. She prefers that location by a lot, despite the traffic on the drive, because the machines there are loaded with real softballs and she can use her good bat. But today Maura wanted to get dinner in town afterwards so it just made sense to stay in the city, and thank goodness they did. If Jane had been hit in the mouth with a real softball she surely would have loosened several teeth. As it stands, the dense foam balls that fill the machines at this location succeeded only in mashing the soft flesh of her mouth hard against her teeth. The inside of her cheek feels a little like ground chuck and her lower lip is split open near the edge of her mouth. Against the backdrop of Maura’s vocal dismay, Jane gathers up a fistful of her shirt and presses it to her lip to stem the bleeding.

“Oh god, Jane, don’t use your shirt.” Guilt is quickly replaced by exasperation, as if Jane being unsanitary about her injury has absolved Maura of her responsibility in causing it. Maura looks around and then over her shoulder. “There’s a first aid kit here, just give me a moment.” 

Jane grunts, pulling her shirt away from her mouth to get a sense of how badly she’s still bleeding. The fresh patch of red isn’t overly concerning. She feels the need to spit again and so she does, another pink streaked pile of saliva joining the others on the ground just outside their batting cage. It seems a little less bloody than the first two and Jane takes some solace in that. 

Jane realizes Maura has been missing too long for a retrieval of the nearest first aid kid. She looks around and spots the gangly teenager standing awkwardly by the door to the little booth where they checked in. The young man had repeatedly warned Jane that the rules of the facility prohibited two people from being in the same batting cage and had loudly protested when she stepped out past the glaring red safety line. He relented only when she’d flashed her badge at him, despite Maura’s insistence that she was sure that the rules existed for good reason. 

Rather than looking smug about how clearly right he was, the teen looks terrified that Jane will lash out at him for her somewhat self-induced injury. There’s an open first aid kit on the counter behind him, clearly abandoned there when Maura found it lacking. He’s holding an ice pack but won’t approach. 

Good. 

Maura finally reappears. She’s holding an actual factual medical bag—not her work bag for crime scenes but the one she keeps in her car in case she should encounter a medical emergency involving the still-living. Like right now. Jane spots a clean t-shirt folded over Maura’s arm as well.  She has her very serious doctor face on and the combination of that with the medical bag and the bright blue gym shorts would almost be funny if it weren’t instead absurdly hot. Maura exchanges a few quiet words with the terrified employee, takes the ice pack from him, then makes a beckoning gesture at Jane. The memory runs through Jane’s head again. 

Yes, Coach.

Jane heaves herself up back to a standing position and trudges over towards Maura. Wordlessly, Maura hands Jane the ice pack then starts walking, and Jane presses it gingerly to her face. She follows after Maura, eyes falling down to those shorts again as she trails her into the ladies change room. Maura turns around just in time to catch Jane’s eyes making the return trip to eye level. Maura raises one eyebrow sky high. Yes, Coach. 

Jane swallows hard, opens her mouth to explain herself (how is she going to explain herself?) but she gets distracted when she catches sight of her reflection in the mirror over the sink. She blinks, drifts a few steps closer to the mirror and pulls away the ice pack to get a better look. While it’s quite dramatic, with blood both still wet and already dry, it’s not actually as bad as she thought it would be. She was expecting her face to be swollen or badly bruised and it’s not especially either. There’s definitely a faint, developing bruise along her cheek and her lip is a bit puffy but it’s altogether fairly tame. She feels a firm nudge against her arm and looks down to find the butt-end of a water bottle pressing against her bicep then back up to see Maura’s expectant face. 

Yes, Coach. 

“Rinse out your mouth, please.” Maura is still in doctor mode and using her doctor voice. It’s very clinical and no-nonsense and it shouldn't make Jane feel the way she does but it does and it has been. For years now. 

When Jane takes the bottle and frees up her hand, Maura washes her hands in the other sink. Jane slowly unscrews the cap of her water bottle as she watches Maura’s reflection in the mirror and when Maura looks up, they lock eyes. Lately the escalation of their obvious chemistry has involved playing some kind of eye contact-based game of chicken and Jane has mostly been winning but not this time; Maura stares back with such confidence that Jane can feel her ears grow warm. She quickly looks down at her water bottle, ripping off the flimsy label like it might somehow interfere with her ability to use it.  Maura makes a small, satisfied noise then busies herself with pulling what she needs out of her bag. 

Jane brings the bottle to her lips and fills her mouth with water. She swishes it around with a sharp wince—blowing out her cheeks causes a dull stab of pain on the injured side of her face. She spits into the sink, making a yeugh noise when she sees the peachy-pink colour of the water. It looks like the liquid inside of a package of raw chicken breast.  She does it again, less painful and less pink, and sighs with relief after she’s done. The third and final rinse-and-spit produces very little blood. Jane washes her hands of the blood and saliva that had dried on them. 

“Good,” Maura says. “Now let me see that cut.” 

Maura reaches for Jane’s lip with her hand, and Jane automatically stoops her head lower. It’s very gentle when Maura grasps Jane’s lower lip between two fingers, but Jane whimpers pathetically anyway.  Maura rolls her eyes. 

“Lean over the sink.”

Jane does. 

Maura squirts saline solution all over the split lip then carefully inspects in. She flicks a glance up to Jane’s eyes before returning her focus to her lip.

“Considering how many times you shouted ‘keep your eyes on the ball’ at me today, it’s a little ironic that you took one right in the face.”

Jane scowls. “What, you expect me to catch it? I was only like six feet away.” 

“You just seemed suddenly distracted, that’s all.” Maura’s tone is a little smug. She won this round and she knows it. She lets go of Jane’s lip, satisfied with her examination. She turns around to wash her hands in the sink again. “The split isn’t that bad actually. I thought it was going to be worse but I guess you’re just a bleeder.” Jane feels a bit insulted but she’s not quite sure how she can defend her coagulation abilities. She watches Maura wet a gauze pad under the faucet before she turns to face Jane again. The two women look at each other for a quiet, loaded moment before Maura reaches up to gently take Jane’s chin between thumb and forefinger.

“Hold still,” Maura says softly. Her expression has lost a little bit of its confidence and the air in the room has shifted. Both of them know that this has now taken a step beyond medical care and Maura is doing something for Jane that Jane could easily do for herself. It would probably even be better if she did it herself, but she doesn’t want to. Instead, she hunches even lower to make it easier for Maura as she carefully cleans the blood off Jane’s face. And maybe in order to be closer. Maybe it’s a bit of that too. Maybe she’s really enjoying how she can hear that Maura’s breathing has gotten a little shaky as she fastidiously wipes at Jane’s face, perhaps she likes being close enough that she could count Maura’s eyelashes if she wanted to. 

“Maura?” 

Jane’s voice is all raspy. She’s not trying to make it sound so deep but it always seems to happen this way.  Her hands hang limply at her sides and she’s desperate for something to do with them so she places them lightly on Maura’s hips, holding her breath as she does. 

“Hm?” Maura looks up into her eyes, her expression open and inquisitive, and anyone else would find her the picture of innocence. Jane knows better. Jane can feel the way her body has shifted just a little bit closer.  Maura pulls the gauze away, unfolds it and refolds it so that the less soiled inside part is now on the outside, then dabs at Jane’s jawline. 

“I was distracted,” Jane admits.

“Is that right?” Maura asks casually, still cleaning Jane up. “By what?” 

Yes, Coach. 

“By you,” Jane says. “By what you said.” 

Jane presses her fingertips into the softness just below Maura’s hip bones. She’s not quite gripping her best friend’s ass but it’s awfully fucking close and Maura goes very still, the gauze pad in her hand now hovering over Jane’s neck. Jane’s thumbs start rubbing small circles over either side of Maura’s pelvis. Her voice drops an octave and this time she means for it to happen. 

“I liked it.” 

Maura looks at Jane askance, as if in mild disbelief that after all these months of beating around the bush it could be so easy. She wets her lips and carefully takes Jane in and Jane knows what Maura’s looking for. She’s looking for confirmation that this, now, finally is the moment. They both know this was always going to be Jane’s call to make—over the last few months Maura has walked right up the line but she was never going to be the one to cross it. And for Jane, for whatever reason, right now, injured, shirt ruined, recently embarrassed in front of a teenager and suddenly aware she might have a bit of a power dynamic kink (but somehow NOT about being a cop?), feels like the turning point. 

Maura hesitates a moment, then asks: “When I called you coach?” 

Jane turns red and her eyes go wild and that must be enough for Maura because the transformation is as immediate as it is complete. She tosses the gauze pad into the sink beside them and then her entire comportment changes, the prim posture of Doctor Isles is gone in an instant and replaced by a staggering sensuality. Maura practically melts between Jane’s hands, her movements feline as she closes the minimal distance between them and molds herself perfectly along the length of Jane’s body. 

“I see,” Maura murmurs, her hands gliding up Jane’s arms.

Blood roars in Jane’s ears and Maura’s fingertips soon nestle in Jane’s hair, nails scratching against the nape of her neck. She grips her hair firmly and pulls Jane close, bringing her lips to Jane’s ear. 

“Well, you’re a very good coach,” Maura coos and Jane shivers and groans. When Maura draws back the smile on her face is wicked and Jane hopes the expression on her own face isn’t as dopey as it feels. 

Fuck. 

Two seconds ago things were mostly all business and now Maura is throwing herself into this like it was the role she was born to play. One of her hands has abandoned its post in Jane’s hair to caress her jaw, fingertips skimming so tenderly along Jane’s cheek. She covers the split in Jane’s lip ever so lightly with the pad of her thumb and then presses her lips to the uninjured side of Jane’s mouth. Jane can feel the shuddering breath she releases bounce back against her face. 

“We really should be icing this,” Maura says with a pout. Jane is about to protest—I’m fine, it doesn’t even hurt, I have literally never felt better—until she realizes that despite her words, Maura’s hand has tightened its grip in her hair and is slowly, purposefully pulling Jane’s head down into the crook of her neck.   

“But I feel like you still have so many things to show me,” Maura purrs. “Coach.”

The word rockets through Jane’s body yet again, ricocheting off every erogenous zone and lighting Jane up like a pinball machine. She moans deep and latches on to Maura’s neck, sinking her teeth in as she seals her lips against the tender skin. It hurts. The cut on her lip stings at the pressure and when she sucks at Maura’s throat her mashed up cheek aches at the effort and absolutely none of that matters. 

Maura inhales sharply as Jane sucks hard and it’s enough to cut through the fog in Jane’s head. She goes to pull back, suddenly cognizant of how wildly unprofessional it is to leave hickeys on any grown woman, let alone a doctor, let alone the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, but she can’t because Maura’s grip holds her firmly in place. 

“No,” Maura hisses, her other hand coming up to assist in forcing Jane back down against her neck. “Do it. Please.”

Jane doesn’t need to be told twice and if anyone has a wardrobe big enough to hide a few marks for a while, it’s Maura. She restarts her onslaught on Maura’s neck, leaving a wake of bite marks and burst blood vessels all along the doctor’s gasping throat. She yanks Maura’s shirt down by the collar, lathing at her clavicle with a hard tongue before nipping at her with her teeth. 

Maura whines and mewls through the rapid fire assault, her whole body writhing against Jane’s and after one particularly vicious bruise is left against her chest, she moans loudly. 

“Oh fuck, Jane.”

Jane practically goes feral. Hearing that erudite voice reduced to cussing, those overeducated lips wrapping around her name in pleasure, it unleashes something. She hooks her hands just beneath the swell of Maura’s ass, waits precisely one second so Maura understands what’s about to happen, then lifts her up. Immediately, Maura’s bare, toned thighs wrap around her torso while her arms hook around the back of Jane’s neck. 

Jane has thought about this a lot. A lot. She hadn’t actually been sure if she’s strong enough to hold Maura up but she is and thank god and it’s fucking amazing. She groans loudly, deeply pleased with herself and unashamedly turned on by her own strength, then pushes Maura roughly up against the lockers just off to the side of the sinks. They rattle like thunder in the small room and the debauched noise that Maura makes at the show of force makes Jane’s blood grow heavy with lust. 

Deep in her heart Jane always knew there was going to be a first time, but she never imagined it like this. Her loss. 

“Hold on tight,” Jane instructs, her forehead now pressed against the lockers right beside Maura’s head, trying to work one hand between their bodies. 

“Of course, Coach,” Maura croons against her ear, thighs and arms tightening obediently around Jane. Jane curses, dragging out one very long fuuuck, Maur as her hand slips beneath the waistband of those goddamned shorts.

Maura is so wet. So much so that it makes precision difficult, but the desperate sounds coming out Maura suggest that precision is currently not required. Which, thank god, because Jane’s mostly working on instinct. So instead of slip-sliding as she tries to find purchase against Maura’s clit, Jane just rubs her whole fucking hand against the entire length of Maura’s slick cunt as best she can. Maura confirms loudly that yes, just like that, oh god, oh fuck and does her part too, grinding herself back into Jane’s palm as she holds on even tighter. Jane presses in tight, which limits her mobility but allows her to use her pelvis to push her hand hard against Maura, occasionally grinding herself onto her own knuckles as well. The metal of the locker behind Maura groans and pops with every thrust, making a strange symphony with the obscene, slippery sounds of their sex. Jane gasps and grunts and Maura is quickly, vocally approaching an orgasm. 

Jane wishes she could watch Maura fall apart, but the position just isn’t going to work for that and Jane’s not about to stop. But Maura’s lips are right beside her ear and hearing it is just as good. Maura can clearly tell what this is doing to Jane and she’s laying it on thick for her. 

“So good. You’re so good, Jane,” Maura breathes, licking her tongue against Jane’s ear. Her voice is broken, almost tormented, and it’s the most beautiful sound Jane has ever heard. “You’re fucking me so well. Finally—oh—took what was yours—god. I’m so close, Jane.”

Between Maura’s words and the intermittent friction she’s getting as she uses her body to force her hand against Maura’s cunt, Jane’s on the precipice as well. She fucks Maura even harder, and as much as she was enjoying the narration she likes it even more when Maura is reduced to nothing but a gasping, repeating ah, ah and soon Maura is spasming all around Jane’s palm, sobbing in Jane’s ear as it happens, rolling her hips messily, coating Jane’s whole hand until she’s slick well up past her wrist. 

Jane’s own orgasm hits her when Maura’s at her peak and it’s nice, very nice, but it’s entirely an afterthought to the show Maura puts on. 

In the aftermath, they remain where they are for a few moments, motionless apart from the heaving breaths they both require. Eventually, with a groan of discomfort rather than pleasure, Maura unlocks her stiff legs from around Jane’s waist and gingerly lowers them to the ground. 

Jane is suddenly a little nervous. Contrary to what people might think, it was never the sex she was afraid of, it was the-what-happens-after that she often worried about. She draws her head back enough to be able to look Maura’s in the eyes. 

Maura looks thoroughly fucked out. Her eyes are dark and glazed over with satisfaction, her hair a mess from where it was rubbing up against the lockers, Her neck littered with deep red marks. Her shirt has been stretched out at the neck and wrinkled and those royal blue gym short are not fit to be seen in public. She smirks up at Jane, but her devious expression fades into something more tender as she recognizes some vulnerability in Jane’s eyes. She lifts a hand to place it lightly against Jane’s injured cheek and coax her down. 

“Come here,” Maura murmurs and Jane easily complies. The kiss is sweet and perhaps overly cautious of Jane’s injured lip given what they’d just gotten up to. 

“That was wonderful,” Maura sighs against Jane’s lips and a lot of Jane’s concern melts away. “If perhaps a little unexpected.” Maura grins. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” Jane’s eyes go wide. “Yeah, I mean… Did it not seem, uh…” 

Maura laughs. “No, it did. I just… Maybe you thought it’d be a little more romantic the first time.” Maura’s expression has softened into something no one’s quite ready to say yet but any idiot could see. Jane’s chest heats up at her words, because ‘the first time’ implies a next time and that’s all she wants. “What’s more romantic than baseball?” Jane asks. “Hundreds of things,” Maura replies. “Possibly thousands. But I’m glad you think so.” She strokes Jane’s cheek lightly and then looks off to the side at the mirror. She sucks a sharp breath in between her teeth when she catches her reflection. She takes a moment to look down at herself and Jane watches as Maura’s cheeks redden when she shifts her thighs together. 

Maura glances back up and Jane tries not to look too proud of what she’s done. 

“Well. You’re definitely going to have to go to the car and get me the change of clothes I keep there.” 

“And then?” Jane asks, fingertips playing with the hem of Maura’s shirt. Maura smiles serenely. 

“And then,” she says, “we take this practice session back to my house, Coach.” 

#rizzoli and isles #rizzles #rizzoli and isles fanfiction #rizzles fanfic #femslash #f/f fanfic #f/f #f/f romance #f/f smut #smut #based on true events #except i didn't get hit in the mouth #doomsdaydj fanfic

[perfctvelvet]

hiii!! i have a request, if it’s not too much to ask.

margot robbie smut where her and y/n are exes but not over each other but have to see each other often because they’re doing a movie together. margot thinks she sees y/n flirting with some other actress and gets jealous, y/n realizes and one thing just leads to another.

Margot/Reader Content: mention of break-ups, exes, toxic relationship if you squint, jealousy, angst, smut (18+ only!!!), oral.

A straight face and a closed mouth is the best way to avoid trouble. Minding your own business and looking the other way, helps too. Margot fails in both of those categories however, and she’s afraid she’s gonna do something stupid tonight.

Against the wishes of her agent (and that tiny voice inside of her), she decided to sign onto a new project. It’s not just any project though. Margot is deliberately signed to do this particular movie once she saw who was on the casting list – Y/n. Originally had planned to take some time away from the spotlight and take time for herself after her personal life went to shit. Then she heard through the grapevine about Y/n in talks to star in some movie, and Margot threw her “hibernation” plan out the window. She did a little sweet talking to get her way and she was casted to star alongside her ex. Next thing she knows she was being invited to a pre-production party, one Y/n will be at.

“I want no parts in this!” Her P.A. proclaimed when Margot insisted on going to the party despite Y/n’s presence being known. The mischievousness was written all over Margot’s face. She was going to see Y/n.

It’s been almost two months since their last break-up. Y/n called it their “last and final” break-up, but Margot wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t the healthiest thing to break-up and get back together as much as they did but it had become sort of a routine for them. Margot was just waiting for Y/n to come back to her.

“Nothing is gonna happen,” Margot tries to reassure her assistant. She knows how to appear cool, calm, and collected despite the inside of her head going crazy. If she doesn’t see Y/n for another week she’s going to lose her mind. That’s been her girl for years and she’s not letting her go. Margot Robbie, the little trouble maker she is, is ready to start some shit if she has to.

The scene is not an unusual one for her. Margot and Y/n would always go to each other’s pre- and post-production parties. Y/n said that Margot was her “good luck charm.” This ritual was interrupted when she broke things off with Margot. Ever since she hasn’t gone out. It was a little weird to be back out, but that’s because she didn’t have Y/n on her side. Margot is no stranger to these parties and she knows how to work a room. Her P.A. is getting settled in, greeting some people they know, and some strangers she doesn’t, while Margot’s eyes scan the crowd for Y/n. She’s hard to miss with a face like hers. But in the sea of conversing people Margot doesn’t see her.

“Fuck.”

She feels stupid for coming out now. It’s peak time and there is no sign of her or any one from her team.

“I’m gonna get us drinks. You go do what you gotta do,” her assistant gives her a look that screams “don’t do anything that will end up on TMZ tomorrow.” Margot can’t make any promises depending on what she might see.

She wades through the crowd, eyes moving rapidly around the room as she tries not to look like an idiot or creep. Margot searches for any sign of her girl: her perfume, her laugh, something. These parties are usually never this packed and it feels like the universe is against her for that.

“Damn it.”

Margot feels like giving up until she just so happens to look over her shoulder. She was looking back to see if her assistant was anywhere near, but she instead got a clear shot of the corner of the room. There she was in all her glory, Y/n. But she wasn’t alone. Margot felt her face go warm and her blood pressure spike. Some dickhead was leaning in way too close for comfort. She looked like a loser and not like Y/n’s type at all. Margot then recognized her as some ‘up-and-coming’ actress on the scene. She has seen her work before, and she is talented, but right now she’s enemy number 1.

The worst part was that Y/n was laughing at whatever she was saying.

Y/n didn’t look sad or like she missed Margot at all. She looked beautiful and refreshed. That tiny little voice inside of MArgot that is sometimes able to command her was telling her to leave Y/n alone. Telling her that Y/n is happier without her and that she should go home and find a way to ditch this project. Margot has become an expert in ignoring that voice though. She has time to think later, right now it’s time to act.

Her feet move her towards that little corner in the room. Neither of the two people she is about to confront are aware of her presence until she gets closer and begins to speak.

“You two look cozy.”

Y/n’s face drops and the actress she’s talking to straightens up. Margot is well aware that her presence has the ability to make people turn heads. The woman looked as if she was trying not to fangirl.

“Margot,” Y/n greets her bitterly.

She’s pissed off that she’s here, but she shouldn’t be surprised. She was the first one to know that a last minute role had been filled and Y/n somehow knew that Margot would pop up back in her life. She had to go no-contact with her or else she would end up right back in her bed. It was hard because their lives had become so intertwined after the years; it seemed almost impossible to avoid Margot. She was doing so good though up until this very moment.

“Oh don’t mind me, you two can carry on.”

The look in her eyes told Y/n she was ready to start something at any moment. She used to find it hot when Margot would be possessive over her but right now she feels nothing but embarrassment. She looked down at the ground and wished it would swallow her whole.

“I’m Rachel,” the actress who was going to be on the screen with them sticks her hand out to formally greet Margot, but she just stares at her hand. Y/n felt painfully embarrassed that Margot was willing to risk her reputation over jealousy.

“Rach, I think you should go,” Y/n says suddenly. She gives her a sympathetic look. Rachel doesn’t need another hint that she’s not welcomed right now. She nods her head before scurrying away before any trouble could start.

Margot takes her place but this time she leans in closer than Rachel.

“You’re unbelievable Margot.”

“Why aren’t you returning my calls?” She asks, blatantly ignoring the anger on Y/n’s face.

“We’re not together anymore, remember?”

“Don’t be like that Y/n .”

She crosses her arms and scowls like a pissed off child. She was so angry with Margot, but it’s also been a while since she saw her and somehow she’s gotten cuter. Y/n also had a tiny little voice in her head that talked her out of trouble, but she was more keen on listening to it. For some reason that little voice wasn’t appearing though. It wasn’t telling her to run the opposite way or go find her friends as Margot moved in even closer. She practically had Y/n’s body pinned to the wall. She looks into her eyes for the first time in ages and her knees almost give in. This is why Y/n had to go no-contact with her — she’s never going to be over this woman otherwise.

“You know I miss you right,” Margot Robbie, the smooth-talking trouble maker, places her hand on Y/n’s cheek. She can feel that she’s warm too. She has been so alone since Y/n left so touching her feels like a gift from the heavens. “Miss you so much,” she confesses.

Y/n is speechless. She can’t bring herself to open her mouth and say the exact same thing. She feels frozen in place. It feels like it’s just the two of them in this crowded room.

“Margot,” she manages to choke out. Y/n doesn’t have to say anything else, all Margot wants is to hear her say her name.

It takes one look for her to know she’s a goner. Next thing Y/n knows, she’s being pulled out of the bar, to the parking lot, and into Margot’s car. It’s just the two of them now so she doesn’t have to worry about any judgment from someone who might see them. She missed her too; missed her so damn much. Margot’s not the only one in this relationship with no self-control. Y/n straddles her and forces her lips to hers. Surprisingly Margot doesn’t taste like alcohol, instead she tastes of mint and lemon. Y/n feels so desperate for her, but she can feel Margot’s desperation too.

Margot wraps her arms around her waist and Y/n melts into her. She moans into their kiss, loving how soft Margot’s lips feel against hers. They fit together like a puzzle piece and she began to wonder why she even decided to leave her in the first place. They’re somewhat dysfunctional but they work so well together. Margot’s tongue slides into her mouth and Y/n welcomes her in. Neither of them mean to get so sloppy but desire runs over. Y/n is so lost in their kiss that she leans back against the steering wheel with too much pressure and accidentally honks horn. It makes her yelp and Margot jumps. They both look at each other, Y/n with a horrified look on her face that soon relaxes when she sees the smile on Margot’s face. “Always so clumsy,” she teases her. Y/n smiles back at her before kissing her again. This time Y/n feels her hands move under thigh. Y/n is wearing that cute skirt Margot likes and she wonders if she was expecting to see her tonight. Her bare skin drives him crazy.

“Get in the back,” she demands, which Y/n is more than happy to follow through on.

Her back seat is tiny, but it doesn’t stop them. Margot is way too determined to get Y/n out of that skirt. Y/n doesn’t have a chance to breathe as she pushes her skirt up to find that she’s not wearing any panties. Margot wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept seeing that she would sometimes forgo them if they were going out together and she wanted to be naughty. Margot felt a pang in his stomach because she wondered who Y/n had in mind when she made that decision.

“Someone knew they were getting lucky.”

“Shut up.”

Her embarrassment is quickly replaced by pleasure when Margot lowers herself between her legs and licks her clit. She has been deprived of this honey pot for almost two months, she’s not wasting her time.

“Fuck Margot…baby,” Y/n moans out. It’s like music to her ears and she wants to hear more.

If Margot hadn’t let it be known that she missed her Y/n certainly would’ve felt it in the way she licked her. Margot was like a feral woman eating and drinking for the first time in days. Y/n tasted sweet, like a ripe strawberry in the summertime. Her pussy was so responsive to her too. Margot can feel her clit pulsing against her tongue every time she presses against it. She’s in between teasing her and straight up devouring. Her fingers dig into Y/n’s plush thighs and it makes her squeal.

“That’s it baby,” Y/n encourages Margot to go wild. She always raved about how she loves Y/n’s taste and how loud she can get for her. Someone might be able to hear her, but that’s what makes it so hot. Her hands rake through Margot’s shiny hair before she gets a firm grip on it.

Y/n finds herself grinding against Margot’s face and she just takes it.

“Fuck Margot…your mouth,” she whines almost incoherently.

Her tongue slides across every inch of Y/n’s pussy, making her feel sheer ecstasy. Nothing, and no one, is better than her. Margot’s mouth is so sweet and her hands are skilled. Maybe people would consider her stupid and weak, but her touch alone has Y/n reconsidering the break-up. Only five minutes in and she’s about to reach her peak — no one else can do that to her.

#margot robbie/reader #margot robbie smut #f/f #f/f smut #f/f fanfic

[radiant-labs]

Adora gave up on holding her weight up with one hand while exploring with the other. The effort on her arm was becoming too much. She lowered herself onto Catra’s body, pinning Catra under her. As they pressed together, she felt Catra’s leg rise up between her thighs, pushing against the place that was screaming for stimulation right now.

She didn't expect the pressure of Catra’s thigh against her. It drew an indignant and uncontrolled moan from her. Thankfully, it was muffled by their kiss, and Catra hadn't been able to hear her unsexy noise.

She separated her lips from Catra’s and exhaled deeply. Her breath trembled as she did so.

“You okay?” Catra asked.

Catra shifted under her. Her thigh—likely unintentionally—applied another modicum of friction to Adora’s mound.

Adora inhaled through her teeth, lifting her hips away from Catra.

“Yeah–.” Adora’s breath caught. She swallowed, breathing deeply a few more times, trying to collect herself. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah I’m just…I’m really turned on right now.”

“...Yeah?”

Adora didn’t miss the hopeful intonation in Catra’s voice. Hearing it was like chugging a tall glass of cold water when her throat was completely parched. It was a relief to know that she wasn’t acting on her lust too quickly. That there was a hint that Catra was likewise interested.

Adora leaned her head forward, nuzzling the space under Catra’s ear. She immersed herself in that wonderful scent of hers, so much more potent when she had her nose against her fur.

“I want you,” Adora said, murmuring it right into Catra’s feline ear.

Excerpt from my fic The Happiness We Deserve, which you can read fully on Ao3.

#catradora #smut #smutfic #f/f smut #f/f fic #femslash #fanfiction #fanfic #lemon #not safe for staff #spop #she ra and the princesses of power #RadiantKay #my writing

[chvrryb-mb]

hello im luna. i run cherry bomb. i am 21+. minors do not interact. this is a second blog focused on more romance and smut. i write exclusively on discord but use tumblr to find rp partners. i write mainly fxf.

helpful links are here.

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#discord rp #f/f rp #fxf rp #f/f roleplay #fxf roleplay #f/f smut #fxf smut