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fanaticsnail · 1 month

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"Good Boy"

Masterlist here

Word count: 3,200+

Synopsis: Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.

Themes: mutual pining, kid x gn!reader, fluffy, praise kink Kid, he just wants to be a good boy, no kisses just praise.

Notes: it's past 1am where I am, and I physically couldn't get to sleep until I got this request by @remisloves out of my mind. It's all about praise and softening rough characters lately with me. Good night everyone! Sweet blorbo dreams

Tag list: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @carrotsunshine

A shudder erupted from the base of Eustass Kid's spine to the top of his cranium. Downturning his chin, he attempted to disguise how wide his smile had risen to his lips beneath the shadow of his blast goggles.

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Captain Kid pushed himself to the absolute limit to best his latest opponent. Blood dripping from his body, his bones bent to the point of nearly breaking. The weight of his metal arm overencumbered his body, his brute strength no longer enough to propel his legs forward.

Successful at last, he claimed their loot in their vast treasury, selecting a few key pieces that caught his eye to present back to you: a former thief, his ships’ appraiser, and now his curator of chronological dialogue, items and routines.

What would possess this hulking captain to risk his body and his crew to collect this small piece of art to present to you? Why would he ever risk such a heavy physical toll for a mere trinket?

Because he was a good boy.

And you always informed him as such.

While Kid saw no need for a chronicler initially, he very quickly warmed to the idea of maintaining one on his payroll. When Massacre Soldier Killer suggested a small snippet of their adventures be cataloged in journals, Kid never knew that reading the words back would prompt a rapid boil beneath his skin. A craving. A need.

Seeing those words scribed on paper held him hostage. Those doting, praising, uplifting words that held such passionate composition regarding his exploits; they pushed him to go further, drive harder, propell longer in his adventures. This was all in an attempt to dream of seeing more of those beautiful words describing him articulated upon paper.

Well, his exploits at least.

Most of all, he craved to hear them depart from your lips. You managed to slip a single verbalized expression of praise once upon his return from doing a menial task. Since then, he was hooked on the rush it brought him.

“Oh, wow! Captain, you've done so well! So unbelievably well!” was that first door opening to the praise he needed.

That small snippet from you, was all well and good in his opinion. He did enjoy your recognition of his talent, but it was not what he craved the most.

And what he wanted the most, was to be told he was, “a good boy.”

He couldn't explain it, but the thought of hearing those words flee from your lips had his eyelids half-hooded, eyes glazed, pupils blackened and blown, and a droopy smile lazily draw itself up onto his lips.

You had only ever come close one time to praising him personally, rather than the talent of his exploits. He felt the flutter of his heart rapidly igniting his veins with adrenaline, screaming with his eyes for you to utter the words he so desperately craved.

And you said it.

You finally said it today.

His feet thumped upon the wooden deck, after he hoisted himself over the small opening on the side of the ship. The ‘away team' had finally assembled together and began greeting those who remained behind.

Rushing to greet your Captain, he shot you a reciprocated, triumphant and winning smile, while happily presenting a small object up to you in the center of his right, flesh hand.

“You found it? You actually found it?” your eyes widened, reaching your hand out to Kid's extended right palm. His body was still dripping with the blood of his enemies, a visible shake in his fingertips as he elevated the trinket up to you.

“It nearly cost me my other arm,” he winced through the words, his forearm beginning to twitch beneath the strain of his exhaustion, “But I brought it back for you-...” he halted his words, pondering whether it was now time to make his affections known or not “...-to add to the collection.”

“For me?” your eyes widened, looking at the shiny and ornate gold filigree design. In the center of the flattened piece lay a single garnet: small, something one would cast aside should more items be presented. But to you, a prized piece in an antique collection you had been dedicating your life to find.

“It's the missing piece, yeah?” Kid smirked, huffing through his words as the rest of the crew assembled atop the Victoria Punk, “The one you told us about last Friday?”

“Honestly, Captain, I don't remember half of what happened last Friday,” you confessed sheepishly, up turning your brows as your fingers brushed against his palm, “You'd think my liver would be able to tolerate being aboard your ship, drinking that slosh alongside the crew by now.”

He barked a cracked cackle at your confession, prompting your own to rise in your chest. His laugh was contagious, a laugh that could be felt through his whole body springing and vibrating up within your own.

“Thank you, captain,” you expressed your deepest gratitude to the taller man, your head nodding in praise, “You don't know what this means to me.”

After a moment's pause, he looked down at the object before bringing his whisky-coloured eyes back up to meet with your own. He inhaled a shaken breath, baited and waiting within his lungs while anticipating his next words.

“S-So,” he stuttered over his words, scolding himself under his own anxiety, “Did I do good? Is this the one you needed? Am I a-...” he didn't want to lead you into giving him the praise he desperately sought, but didn't want to not hear it either.

With all the patience you could muster upon such a triumphant moment in your life, you prompted him with your eyes to have him complete his sentence.

“...Am I a good-...” trying so, so hard to say the final word, he physically couldn't have them pass his lips, “...-Captain?” He mentally slapped himself, knowing that those were not the words he craved and how stupid that must've made him sound.

You took a moment to carefully think about your next words, noticing how bruised he was, how bloody his knuckles were, how a lot of the crew that went with him on this private ‘away mission' were faring upon return.

“Of course you are. You captain us extremely well, sir,” you uttered with a soft smile, “I'll adjust my findings accordingly in the journals, if I may be excused?”

A small puff of air flew from his lips, defeat almost tangibly thick as it shrouded his shoulders with its presence. He looked away after giving his nod of dismissal, his gaze fixed on the wood of the deck below his feet.

Your smile widened, claiming the object from his palm and holding your hand within his for a moment longer, before withdrawing completely. Fluttering your eyes over each fixed point of concern on his features, you searched for what his body seemed to be screaming for.

Thanking him with a curt nod, you turned on your heel and abruptly halted your next step.

At this moment, it fully dawned on you exactly the words your Captain wanted to hear. Eustass Kid, captain of the Kid pirates, champion and leader of the Victoria punk, devil-fruit user and wielder of Haki… had a praise kink. And he wanted you to praise him.

A playful smile spread like warm honey up your cheeks, a scrunch in your nose as you rolled your next words over your tongue. You turned your head over your shoulder, guarding your intentions close to your chest as you spoke two words that almost had your Captain fall on his knees in gratitude.

“Good boy.”

From that moment on, he was simply smitten. No matter what he did, whether it was aiding his crew with carrying supplies, carrying out great acts of violence, defending his Nakama from their enemies, or simply finishing his vegetables at meal time - he would look to you in anticipation, that anticipation being met with those two simple words.

“Good boy.”

They echoed within his mind, swirling around within the chasms of his brain as slumber eluded him. He did not mind in the slightest having his lack of rest consumed with praises departing from your lips.

Your voice plagued him, haunted him as a spectral ghost would hunt down their unfinished business. He did not mind such a haunting, in fact: he wanted more. He wanted to have more praise, more compliments, more of your verbal, beautiful words crying out from your perfect lips.

He was smitten, completely smitten, by your compliments. The way your talented tongue made his name sound, the way your lips curved up in a knowing smirk each time you told him he was a ‘good boy.’

Until the day you didn't.

Eustass Kid was in a foul mood, one that nobody knew the cause nor the cure for such a horrid, stampeding mess of a captain. Food, ales, meads, even gold - nothing appeared to pry him from his raging temper. Breaking tankards, tipping over tables, scattering documents on his captains’ desk, nothing was safe from the wrath he was wreaking on the furniture.

Hunched over your desk, you continued cataloging and appraising the latest haul of trinkets and treasures thrust into your office. It was overwhelming for you, the sheer number of items scattered around your room. You attempted to alphabetize them, sort them accordingly and lump them into itemized piles.

The toll the elevation of work raised onto your shoulders had you dismiss all those who presented you with various finds, including your Captain. He rocked on the ball and heels of his feet, eagerly awaiting and anticipating his sought-after praise - but found nothing but an anxious sigh and scratch of your neck in response to his hard labor.

This was the reason for his intense rage.

After leaving your office, and selfishly paying no mind to your exhausted expression, he began to spiral.

“He was so good. Why didn't you tell him he was? Was there something he could've done better? Something he could've pushed harder to strive for?” all circled within his mind as he tore piece after piece of his office apart.

Several hours had passed, and you carved a hefty chunk of your work apart and managed to get a fair bit done. It was nowhere near complete, but it had you feeling a sense of anxious accomplishment.

A knock at the door prompted you to raise your chin, eyes panicked and overwhelmed with the amount of work still required to be completed before mealtime.

“Need help?” The light flickered off the cerulean and pearl colored mask of the first mate, who peeked his head around the doorframe.

“Please,” you sighed, gesturing to your position kneeling on the ground beside you. Killer promptly entered your office, crouching beside you and sifting through the uncharted treasures still needing to be sorted.

“What we up to?” he elevated his hand, gesturing out to the various piles in front of you both, ��I think I see where they need to go. You written down them all?”

“All recorded in the book, down to the last drooped earpiece,” you confirmed, nodding to the mess in the center of the room, “They just need to be put in the right piles, locked in the treasury, and then we can call it a night. Maybe have an ale, if you're up for it, Kil?”

After a moment's pause, both of you rolling the items in your fingertips and placing them within the according: gold, silver, platinum, gemstone, raw material, ceramic, wearable materials, and weaponry piles.

“Leave this with me,” Killer uttered, placing a throwing knife within the weaponry stack, “And you go and perform your other job.”

“What other job?” your brows knit with confusion, “I've already done the journalling of the exploits, the timetabling of the crew shift-changes, notarizing the stock we need within the kitchen-.”

“-Oh, no, buckaroo,” you could audibly hear the smirk behind Killer's mask as he teased you, “the other one. The one nobody pays you to do.”

“Which is, champ?” you taunted in return, nudging him with your shoulder roughly against his, “Be specific.”

“The one where you-...” he took this brief pause as an opportunity to sigh in huffed frustration, “...-where you tell our captain he's a good boy. Although, in his current state,” Killer rotated his neck to relieve the tension on his shoulders, “I might even go so far as to suggest you call him a bad one, considering that's exactly how he's behaving.”

Your confusion knit your brow down in the center of your face, your mind focussing on when the last time you praised the puppy you had turned your Captain into.

“Oh, fuck! I didn't praise him when he brought in the loot!” your eyes widened in shock, promptly rising to your feet and brushing over your pants, “I just got so overwhelmed by the sheer bloody number, I couldn't think of anything else. Oh, I'm an idiot.”

“You're not an idiot,” Killer interrupted you, rising to his own feet and cupping your shoulders in an attempt to halt the rise in your anxiety, “Hell, you're not even dating him. It shouldn't be your job-,” he brushed over your shirt, adjusting the crumpled material to make it more appealing to the eye.

“-Yet here you are,” he concluded, nodding at you before glancing down at the piles of treasure, “And here I am: the first-mate, the best friend, the confidant. The one who is unable to tear him away from his absolutely shit-house mood, because all he wants is you.”

You attempted to stifle the warm flush that drew itself up to your cheeks. Captain Kid was a tall, broad and intimidating man - those were the three assessments you initially made when you were hired to serve aboard the Victoria Punk. Then you got to know him, and were made privy to truly see who he was beneath the surface.

The twinkle behind the feral rage, the purity in his unbridled emotions, the lack of restraint in all his advances: you adored him. When he began to seek out your praises, you were immediately swooning at his attention.

He wanted your words, not just due to the fact words were your job, but because he wanted you to speak them. Just to speak his praises to be granted the luxury of a light tingle in his ears, a blush rise to his cheeks and a smile decorating his lips with such beautiful words.

Now within the doorframe of your captain's office, you arched your brow and crossed your arms. Leaning on the wooden panel, you continued to watch his chest rise and fall with each exasperated and berzerk breath. Your eyes never left his body, each arch of his back and ripple of his muscles straining under the taut fabrics atop his shoulders.

“All this because I didn't call you a good boy?” you addressed him in a low and dangerous tone. His feral eyes snapped over to you, widening as he truly witnessed the devastation in the destruction in his office.

“You've been a bad boy, I see,” you continued in your dark tone, promptly stepping into his office and closing the door behind you, “Look at all this mess. Tsk, naughty.”

The click of your tongue had Kid arching his back, straightening his spine as he bit back a soft whimper. His brows triangulated in the center of his face, bottom lip now quivering under the weight of your disciplinary tone.

Circling his body, fingers brushing against his large right hand beside his hip as you leaned into him. You shook your head, stooping down and beginning to collect the paper, stationary, tankards, and paperweights that had been flung against the floor.

Before you could say a following, disciplinary word, Kid immediately fell onto his knees and began hurriedly picking up the items he threw onto the ground beside you.

“I-I’ll pick it all up,” he nodded his head as to confirm his words further, “I'll tidy up all this shit. Please, I-I’m sorry. I just-.”

“-Just wanted to be praised, hm?” you hummed at him. He hid his head from view, his painted lips pouting while his eyes held their attention firmly against the mess.

He nodded, the weight of finally admitting his craving lifting off his chest and shoulders as he received the items you were holding atop the stack he was forming.

“Tidy up your mess, handsome,” you smiled, elevating your right hand to capture his pointed chin within your thumb and index finger, “I'll watch every step you take, and let you know how good you're being, if you do it properly.”

Kid’s breath caught in his lungs, a pink dust settled against his cheeks and ears. He hurriedly rose to his feet, up-turning his askew desk and dusting off his captains’ chair. He extended it outwards, wordlessly and politely gesturing for you to take a seat.

“My, my,” you commented, rising to your feet and accepting his invitation, “Such a gentleman, you're being. But, you've gotta’ work a little bit harder to earn that title you crave.”

Captain Eustass Kid was a dutiful, whimpering puppy under your watchful eyes. He was, almost, happily rearranging all of the objects he had thrown askew. He even took the time to appropriately categorize the pages he didn't complete prior to his little tantrum.

“Hm, very good. Well done picking up after yourself.” He blushed further at your words, but craved so much more.

“Oh, look at how much time you're taking on that bookshelf. I can even see how clean you're making each of the panels. Look at you go, big boy.” That praise had him whimpering, his eyes fluttering shut as he continued to clean in silence.

“So strong, picking up that heavy weight all by yourself. So proud of you.” He could not stop the audible gasp, nor the rush of blood seeping to places they had no business in flooding to at that moment.

He completed all this while glancing over his shoulder and thriving beneath the giddy feeling rushing to his chest upon being the center of your unwavering gaze.

Upon the last paperweight being placed and straightened atop his desk, he knelt between your knees and glanced up into your eyes. He looked innocent of all wrongdoing, all prior anger and malice fleeing from within his silent pleading.

He was desperate for those words, those two simple little words that he so yearned for. Noseying up further between your knees, his shuddering metal and flesh hands cautiously placed themselves gently on your calves.

Soft and slow circles were traced against your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as they began twinkling with hope. All his mind was screaming, silently and internally, was a simple repetition of: “Please, please, please. Say it, say it, say it.”

And you obliged him by leaning down, caressing his left, scarred cheek and drawing your lips close enough to taste the tingle of his breath upon your skin. Hovering before contact was made, you floated your gaze between his whisky-hued orbs and his parted lips with a soft smile.

“Good boy.”

#one piece #x reader #Eustass Kid #eustass kid x reader #op kid #one piece eustass kid #kid x reader #kid x gn!reader #gn!reader #one piece x reader #kid has a praise kink #he just wants to be a good boy #fic request #ask snail #snail answers #snail needs sleep

631 notes · View notes

lucidfairies · 7 months

Text

you-know-who [a.a]

pairing: dad's business partner abby anderson x f!reader

summary: abby has been your dad's loyal business partner for quite some time, and she's totally off limits, but that doesn't stop her from appearing in your wet dreams every night. tonight they just happened to come true.

warnings: mdni 18+, dom!abby, sub!reader, virgin!reader, experienced!abby, fingering [r] face riding [r], strap usage [r], strap referred to as cock, pet names, praise, bondage, age gap, slight overstim, breeding kink brrrr

word count: 3.7k

Your dad is good at a lot of things. He's good at business, making deals, and negotiating. But being a dad? Not so much. Sure, you got to go to banquets and beautiful galas, but it wasn't worth the expense of no father figure. The worst part of it all is when he pretends to be present but, in reality, knows nothing about you.

Your best friend, Dina, sat on the end of the bed while you rummaged through your wardrobe, trying to find something nice to wear. "It's just dinner." She said lazily, not looking up from her phone. "Why don't you wear that blue dress with the slit? You look really good in that one." You groaned, turning to face her.

"I wore that one last time, remember? I can't wear it twice in a row. Plus, this is a really big brand deal for my dad. I need to look my absolute best." You continued to contemplate dresses until you finally decided on one. It was black, with a square neckline that always made your cleavage look phenomenal. It hardly came to the middle of your thigh, but sitting at a dinner table, you were sure no one would notice.

"Is you-know-who gonna be there?" Dina asked, setting her phone down as she was suddenly intrigued. She smirked as your face reddened a little.

"Yes, she's going to be there. Gotta look my best. Tonight could be the night." I winked at her.

One good thing about having a dad who's a multi-million dollar CEO is that he tends to have the finest employees of all time working for him - especially Abigail Anderson. You and Dina have a running joke that sometimes you and Abby will hook up because she always eyes you the same way you do her.

Tonight definitely wasn't going to be the night for a multitude of reasons. First, she's 33, and you're 21, which basically throws you out of the competition. Second, your dad was going to be home tonight, which meant you were home tonight. Dina promised that she could cover for you, but you've never taken her up on that opportunity. And last but certainly not least, if your father found out you slept around with his right-hand woman, you would probably be disowned, and she would probably get beheaded.

You held your head high, though, as you began to do your makeup and curl your hair. Once you finished, you slipped the dress over your head and zipped it up with assistance from Dina. "You know, if you throw on and dress and do your makeup, you could come with me. My dad probably wouldn't notice."

"Nah, I'll leave you and your soon to be wife alone for the night. Have fun, baby girl." She kissed your cheek and started collecting her things. You walked her down to the front door, bid her a good bye, then shut the door.

Mere minutes later, a black car pulled up outside the door, and you knew that meant it was time to go. You grabbed a black handbag and heels, then rushed out the door.

When you arrived, you took note of the fact that all of your dad's colleagues' cars were parked together, and there was Abby's black Porsche, looking sleek as ever. You grinned, then remembered where you were and dropped your face back into a neutral position.

As you walked toward their private room, you spotted your father and approached him. "Hey sweetheart," you hugged awkwardly, "grab a seat. We're waiting on five more people." You smiled and nodded, entering the room and analyzing it. There was Abby, with a glorious open seat next to her. You claimed it, placing your handbag on the floor and your napkin in your lap.

Abby looked at you briefly, smirking when you met her eye. She knew she looked hot. You knew it, too. She made a basic white button-down, and gray slacks look so good. You could hardly imagine what she'd look like naked. All that muscle, the veins that popped from her arm. She was a walking wet dream if you'd ever seen one.

"You look good tonight," she whispered, and even over the commotion of the table, you could hear her. "Maybe even better than last time."

"Likewise, Ms. Anderson." You complimented, using the sluttiest voice you could muster. Her cheeks got red and she turned away, jumping into a conversation with the table of people. Your eyes jumped from her sharp jaw to her full lips, thinking about how good she would look between your legs.

This happens every time.

But tonight – tonight was different. Tonight, you decided that you were going to do something about it. I mean, the worst she could do is turn you down, right? You stood, brushing your hand against her thigh as you excused yourself to the bathroom. Once there, you fixed your makeup and pulled your dress down and little at the top, just to make your tits look better.

You left the bathroom, putting a hand on her shoulder as you stepped into and took your seat. "Ms. Anderson," you asked, getting her attention. She immediately looked over to you, eyes dropping to the top of your dress before quickly snapping back up. "Could you pass the water?"

"Yes ma'am," her voice was low and her eyes were dark. She grabbed the pitcher and refilled your glass for you, smiling as she placed it on the table.

Your dad asked you a question about something, but all you could think about was Abby's hand, which was now curiously dragging along your thigh. Your breath hitched, but you played it off with a cough and continued talking.

Suddenly her large, warm hand was under your dress, tracing circles on the inside of your thigh. Your conversation with you dad had come to an end at this point, thank God, because you were seconds away whining and begging her to continue.

Once she was sure that your pussy was aching, she pulled her hand away and cut into her food, taking a bite. Your head was a little dizzy, and you tried to comprehend if that actually happened or not. You needed some way of making this go further. If you went to the bathroom again it would look suspicious, but it seemed like the best plan right now.

"You're going to follow me." You said to her, standing up and walking out of the room. You went into the single bathroom, waiting patiently. Two minutes passed and you got slightly irritated, considering going back. But the door opened, and there was Abby's brooding figure.

"What are you doing, y/n?" She asked, leaning against the bathroom wall. "'Cause it seems a lot like you're trying to get my attention." Your mind was blank. Why did you think this was a good idea? "Do you want my attention, sweetheart?" Abby took a step forward, causing your ass to press gently against the bathroom sink.

"Yes, Ms. Anderson." You ran a hand down her chest and abs, feeling them contrast under your hand. "I want you." You pulled her further into you by her waist, so that her thigh was slotted between your legs.

"Here's what we're gonna do, sugar," she dipped her head so that her hot breath hit your neck, "You're gonna come to my house after dinner in this dress," she kissed your neck lightly, "and I'm gonna fuck you until you know no name but mine." You practically whimpered under her touch. "Yes?"

"Yes." Abby backed up, fixed her shirt, then left the bathroom. You followed minutes later, taking your seat next to her.

The dinner droned on and on, to the point that you wanted to just get up and walk out with Abby on your hip. But you didn't. You suffered through having to listen to brand deals while also thinking about the ache between your legs and everything she's going to do to you.

You wanted her to tie you to her headboard and fuck you with her strap until you came three times, maybe spank you. You wanted her to do bad things to you ‐ but the worst part was that you hadn't actually done anything before.

Finally, finally, your dad closed the deal and the dinner began to come to an end. You shot up, grabbed your bag and rushed to your father. "I'm sleeping at Dina's tonight," you told him. He kissed your head and whisked you away, too high on the feeling of making a new deal that he didn't have time to pay attention to you. "Take me to Abby Anderson's house." You told the driver, who nodded and pulled out of the lot.

You got there before her, awkwardly, and stood outside. She arrived 5 minutes after you, striding toward you with an absolute purpose. "Someone's eager." She said, smirking. She let you in and you sat your bag down, then kicked off your heels. You were so much shorter than her without your heels, and it was oddly hot. "Can I get you anything?" She knew you wanted to fuck, and you weren't having it.

You grabbed her and kissed her roughly, groaning when she grabbed your waist and pinned you to the counter. Her warm tongue breached your lips and massaged yours, with nothing sweet about it. She grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you onto the island. "I'm so much older than you baby," She mumbled into your neck. "We probably shouldn't do this."

"It turns me on, Ms. Anderson." You moaned as her teeth came into contact with your favorite spot on your neck. You ground your hips into the air, looking for anything with friction.

"Oh, you want me so bad, princess." She mocked, cupping your cunt. You cried out, grinding into her palm. "Have you ever been with a woman?" She asked, grabbing your hips to grind them against her palm.

"N-no one," you whimpered, "I've never been with anyone." You expected her to remove her hand and tell you to leave, that she wouldn't do it, but she didn't. She swiftly lifted you off the island and placed you on the floor.

"I'm gonna ruin you, baby. Now follow me." You took her hand as she led you up the steps and down the hall to her bedroom, where she locked the door. "Take your dress off and lay down." You did as she said, but she disappeared into a room off of her bedroom. You heard the water running while you laid down, and she came back out moments later.

Her hands were washed and she had a strap in one of them that she sat down on the nightstand. She shed her shoes and buttoned down, tossing them in a pile with your dress, then climbed over you. She pushed your knees up around her hips and began kissing your neck lightly. "How many times do you wanna come tonight, honey?"

"Um.." you were practically braindead by that question. "One?" That's all you needed. Not like you had ever done this before. She groaned softly.

"How's three?" You gasped, rolling your hips into hers. "Three’s good then, sugar?" You nodded quickly, running your hands down her torso. She reached behind you and unclasped your bra, pulling it off and tossing it somewhere. You whined as the cold air of her room hit your nipples. Everything suddenly became very real, and it finally clicked that you were laying half naked in your dad's partner's bed while she kneaded your tits and took them in her mouth.

"Oh Abby," you moaned as she bit gently on your nipple. Your head fell back, and you grabbed at her hair to keep her going.

Abby almost came in her boxers after hearing you moan her name. She had wanted this since the day she met you, but never made a move. Her cunt was throbbing, and she was just about ready to hump her bed like she was some kind of high schooler giving head for the first time.

Abby ran her thumb down your pussy over your underwear, moaning at the way you squirmed under her. She ran her finger over your heat again, flicking your clit gently this time.

There was slick surely running down your thighs, but you couldn't focus on that. The thought of making a mess in Abby's bed sounded amazing to you, though.

She kept going with that motion, stopping if you squirmed too much. "Abby.. fuck, I-I need it, please." You begged as she circled your clit rather roughly.

"Need what, princess?" You wanted to pretend like you were sick of the teasing, but you weren't. You liked how desperate she was making you, you wanted to beg for her to touch you. You wanted her to praise you for everything that you did right.

"Need you," you groaned.

"Atta girl," she kissed your thigh as she started dragging your underwear off. "You're doing so well, baby." Her eyes went wide as she realized actually how wet you were, basking in the idea that it was all for her.

Abby started sucking a hickey into your thigh as you whined under her, grabbing at her braid. "Abby," you pulled her up. "Take out your braid." She did as told, pulling the ponytail out and putting it around your wrist. She looked impossibly better with her blonde hair down.

After many more moments of teasing, she finally licked a strip up your cunt, making you throw your head back and groan. She sucked and flicked your clit, finding a perfect rhythm that you loved. It didn't take long for your stomach to tighten, but when she slowly pushed her middle finger into you, you knew you were gone.

She pumped it lightly, making sure you could take it, before adding her ring finger. She curled them, hitting something that was too much, but felt so good at the same time. "T-too much, Abby," I moaned, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to squirm away from her fingers. She didn't stop, though, with every pump of her fingers she hit that spot, making your head spin. "Abs, ah, I'm gonna- fuck,"

"That's it, baby. Cum on my fingers." Your back arched off the bed, and your vision went white as you did as told, coming on her fingers. It felt like hours of her coaxing you through it, but in reality it had only been a couple seconds. "You did so well, princess."

You were sure you looked blatantly unattractive, covered in sweat with your hair all messed up, but Abby was looking at you like you were the only woman in the world. Like she wanted to fuck the everlasting shit out of you.

Abby, on the other hand, looked phenomenal. You wanted to take a picture of her right now and keep it forever. Make it your wallpaper, print it, fuck yourself to it. Her hair was frizzy from you yanking on it, her eyes were dark. But probably the hottest thing was the spit that was covering her chin, and it was obviously from you, which made everything so much better.

She wiped her face on the back of her hand, then laid next to you. "I want you to ride my face, pretty girl." You sat up on your knees, looking at her with wide eyes.

"But.." you wanted to, you truly did. But you knew nothing about how to do it. "What if I suffocate you?" She shrugged.

"Worth it." She sat up, tugging you forward by your hips until you were sitting in her lap. "It's easy. You won't even have to do anything but sit. I'll do the rest." She smirked as you pushed up, moving towards her face until your cunt was right over her mouth. You were suddenly conscious of everything, wondering if she would be weirded out with anything you had going on, even though she already ate you out once.

She grabbed your hips and pulled you down, making you squeak a little. You could've sworn the world stopped when she started moving her tongue. The angle was better than when you were laying down, and you could watch her. You reached down and grabbed her hair, forcing her head up. You were moaning louder than you had ever, head back with your eyes squeezed shut.

Abby was sure she was going to pass out. Not from lack of air, but from the fact that she had an absolutely gorgeous girl on her face, whining her name and begging for her to continue everything she was doing.

Abby moved one of her hands from your hip to her belt, unclipping it single handedly, and unzipping her pants. She was going to wait, rub one off after you had already left, but she couldn't anymore. She teased herself briefly before slipping two of her fingers between her folds, bucking up into her hand.

She was moaning into your pussy, using one of her hands to rub your clit. You wished she could talk because you loved her praise, but if this is what you got in return for not talking, you were fine with it.

"I'm gonna cum, baby," you ground your hips into her face as your stomach came undone and you came for the second time. You were so exhausted, so ready to curl up in her arms and go to sleep, but at the same time, you wanted to keep going, wanted to see what she'd do to you.

She tapped your thigh a few times and you wobbled up, falling into the bed next to her. "I'm tired," You tell her, fingers tracing circles on her chest. "But I want you to tie me up." You looked up at her, putting on an innocent expression, even though your thoughts were absolutely not innocent.

Abby's eyes widened. She hasn't tied someone up since she was like 20, but she was trying to take into account that you were young and still trying to figure out what you were into. And, I mean, tying you up definitely wasn't the worst thing someone could ask for.

So she did. With rope. You loved the way it felt around your wrists, loved the way you were bound to her headboard.

Abby slid her pants off, leaving her boxers and sports bra, which both fit her phenomenally. Your stomach flipped as she grabbed the strap from her nightstand and slipped it up to her hips. She came back over you, sitting up on her knees briefly while she pushed one of your legs up so that it was pressed against your chest.

She looked up at you and you gave her a nod. She gently ran the tip of the strap across your clit and down your folds, making you shiver. “Hurry up, Abs.” You groaned, pushing your hips into the air, trying to take her.

“Patience, darling.” She pushed the tip of her strap into your cunt, and the intrusion burned a little. It was as if your body wanted to push it out and keep it in at the same time. Once you could handle that, she pushed another inch in, waiting for your okay. She went inch by inch until her cock was bottomed out, all of it stretching you open and making you feel amazing.

Abby groaned, head lolling back as the strap pressed perfectly onto her clit. She pushed your other leg up to your chest, holding it softly as she started moving, pulling out just a little before thrusting back in. She wanted to go slow for you, gentle, but she could barely stop herself from fucking into you as hard and fast as she could.

The more comfortable you got, the less easy it was to contain herself. She moved faster, watching your eyes squeeze shut as you moaned. You liked her being rough, you loved how her cock rubbed against your little bundle of nerves every time she fucked into you, everything about it.

"Gonna put a baby in you, sugar," she groaned into your neck as her head fell. "What would your daddy think of that, hm?" Your moans filled the room and the headboard slamming against the wall filled the thick air of the room.

She pushed your legs apart, pressing herself farther onto you as she started sucking hickeys into your neck. She knew she was close, but she wanted to finish with you, so she held it back for as long as she could. That didn’t work very well - she came moments later, moaning into your neck as her thrusts got sloppy. You hardly noticed, too caught up with your own satisfaction.

She kept going, every roll of her hips bring both you and herself closer to your peaks. Again. Your stomach tightened and you threw your head back, screaming her name as you came around her cock. She practically collapsed on top of you as her orgasm hit her hard and fast.

She laid on you for a second before pulling out and rolling off, taking the strap off and tossing it off the bed. “Was that everything you wanted it to be, pretty girl?” She asked, still panting as she wiped a thin layer of sweat off of her forehead.

“Even better.” You said, throwing your arm over your arms. “What do we do now?” You asked lazily, praying to god that she wouldn’t kick you out. That would be extremely embarrassing.

“All you have to do is lay there and look pretty, hun.” She purred. She could make you wet again just from her words, even though you had absolutely nothing left in you. The bed shifted as she got up, walking into the bathroom. The water ran and you sat up, watching as she came back with a cloth hand towel.

Wordlessly, she grabbed your legs and spread them, wiping you off everywhere. You hummed as the warm water washed everything off of you, relaxing into her touch. She massaged your legs and even went as far as giving you a pair of boxers and a t-shirt so that you could sleep over. “Do you do this for all the girls you have over?” You asked. Your back was pressed to her front, her arm thrown over your waist.

“Nah,” she kissed your neck. “Only you, baby. Only you.”

a/n: thanks for reading <333 requests are open

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby smut #breeding k1nk #overstim kink #tlou #tlou2 #tlou modern au #abby x fem!reader #abby x you #abby #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #maya writes

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

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Damian thinking he can cure depression and all of your negative mindsets by letting you cuddle and hug Bat-Cow.

He’d personally drag you all the way to the barn and then promptly point towards the half-awake cow lounging in the farthest corner and with the straightest face he says;

‘Hug the cow y/n.’

You’re confused, you’re depressed and have told him so in confidence, and here he was demanding that you cuddle up to the bovine, who was staring at you both with their dark eyes.

‘Why?’ You’d ask, eyes never leaving the cow and Damian sighs impatiently. ‘It’ll cure your current aliment of depression.’ He says with such certainty that you almost believed him for a minute…almost.

‘Damian this is stupid, even for you-‘ however before you could finish your sentence, Damian was already pushing you from behind towards Bat-Cow, who only watched as you were positioned into their warm side, silently chewing before becoming disinterested and went back to resting their head on the floor.

Bat-cow didn’t smell the greatest but then again…they were a fucking cow but they were warm and fluffy and comfortable, so much so that you ended up cuddling further into them found yourself falling asleep almost instantaneously with a small smile on your lips. ‘Good Bat-Cow…’ you murmur sleepily as the bovine only huffs out hot air, unfazed at you cuddling them as everyone from Damian to even Jason had come once in a while to cuddle up into their side.

Damian made a satisfied noise and was about to leave when he noticed that there was a space big enough for him to slot himself against Bat-Cow also. He shifts he gazed all across the entire barn, making sure he wasn’t being observed somehow, before cuddling himself into the side of the large animal.

Damian wouldn’t find out until way later that he was indeed being observed as he chased after Tim throughout the manor, sword in hand.

Jason who loves to cuddle you as though it’s been forever since you last saw each other.

(It had been five minutes max, you needed to piss.)

He’d even make it his personal mission to carry you in his arms anywhere and everywhere he went in the apartment. He will not hear the cliche ‘I’m too heavy’ bullshit excuse, let him carry you in his arms damn it! He wants to hold you! Do not reject him this golden opportunity!

He doesn’t care if anyone like Bruce, Dick or Roy are present because if anything it shows them that he had someone in his life that he loved and adored more than anything. Roy/Dick -mainly Dick- may tease him to high heavens about it but Jason only shrugs it off and says albeit childishly: ‘well at least I have someone to hold onto every night unlike you dickhead.’ Before casually carrying you into the kitchen with him to grab a drink.

(Remember that ‘Gator needs his gat, you punk ass bitch.’ tiktok Trend where ppl picks up their friend? Yh that’s what goes on in my head when writing this.)

Jason fears as though he’s not spending enough time with you. Which is bullshit because this man spends every waking moment with you being cute and loving and just the absolute best in general.

He’s not use to the whole relationship thing and he’s overthinking everything he’s doing and worries that it might be the breaking limit for you. So all you got to do is hold his face in your hands, rest your head against his own and reassure him that he was spending more than enough time with you. It’ll probably won’t get rid of the notion that he wasn’t doing enough for you out of Jason’s head, but at least it was something that he could be reminded of when he was getting too lost in his thoughts.

He’s a worrywart and a big one at that, but as long as you keep being his anchor, keep being the reason his head feels a lot clearer and so on, then Jason will gradually come to learn that he never needs to worry about anything when you’re more than happy to keep reminding him that it’s okay to worry, and that he wasn’t being suffocating or otherwise.

Jason maybe physically imposing and intimidating to look at for some people but to you, he was like those badly stereotyped big dogs that are the biggest sweethearts. Dogs such as:

Rottweilers

XL bully dogs

Pit bull

Doberman Pinscher and more.

He’s a sweetheart who just looks intimidating, nothing more nothing less…unless you happen to be a criminal then Jason is anything but the word sweet or adorable as they’re getting their asses beaten.💀

Dick always asks you if you still love him after every minor inconvenience.

It doesn’t matter what happens or how it happens, he always give you those puppy dog eyes of his and pouts his lips. ‘Do you still love me?’

‘Dick we’ve been through this before, of course I love you.’ You’d reply.

‘But you looked really annoyed right now and I just wanted to know if you still like me enough to date me.’ He then says as he rests his head on your shoulder, pressing himself against your back.

You sighed before looking over at him and pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. ‘Does that clear everything up for you?’ You asked rhetorically as Dick beamed brightly and stole a kiss from your lips, reinvigorated. ‘Yep.’ He’d respond before moving on with the rest of his day.

If you were to accidentally forget to kiss him good morning or before you were leaving for work, Dick would take full offence as he places himself in front of the door, arms crossed and lips formed into that pout you were more then familiar with at this point. ‘You hate me.’

‘Dick I’m in a hurry!’ You cry, looking at the time.

‘And you forgot my good morning kisses!’ He’d cry back at you and you would be several minutes late to work, all because you were making up for the misses kisses. You hate Dick sometimes but you knew you couldn’t be mad at him for long when he’d smother in kisses upon arriving him from work, so you guessed he could be given a pass…just this once.

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bloompompom · 2 months

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Vengeful Hearts Club

♡ content: ~2.7k word count. eren jaeger x fem!reader, infidelity (reader's ex-boyfriend cheated), grinding, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected piv sex, consensual recording, rough sex, dirty talk, revenge, alcohol, explicit sexual content, explicit language. reader discretion advised. 18+ ♡ a/n: just a quick lil something-something for valentine's day

What were you supposed to do when you found out your (ex-)boyfriend was cheating on you days before Valentine’s Day?

Easy: you fuck his friend.

Admittedly, the stunt wasn’t that calculated. And if you were to debate semantics, the real answer to that question was to cancel your dinner reservation, which you did between sobs.

But once you pulled yourself together, you decided it was time to rip the bandage off, move on, and fuck someone else—because he certainly had. Twice, actually. The first time was a drunken accident, he told you, then the second was on purpose, but only because they ‘just so happened’ to bump into each other again.

Yeah, right.

If your ex could move on—while he was still in a relationship with you, nonetheless—then you could, too. On a whim, you redownloaded a couple of dating apps and dusted off your old profiles. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, just swiping and swiping and swiping. You were giving into meaningless conversations in hopes they would lead to even more meaningless sex. But that never happened. No one held your attention for a day. No one’s witty one-liners were all that witty. No one remotely excited you until…

Eren Jaeger.

You were about to swipe his profile away on impulse, but something in you gave you pause. You moved your thumb aside to look at his face, only in the first photo, but that led to the second, then the one after that.

You couldn’t say your ex’s friend was the first person you had in mind, but now that you had no ties left to him, you could finally confess you found Eren attractive. Up until now, it was merely a forbidden thought, one you had stowed away since you were first introduced. You wouldn’t dare finish the sentence, even in the sanctity of your mind, because that would make you a bad girlfriend. Eren was strictly off-limits.

Now, you could argue it was more of a grey area, which only made him all the more interesting to you. Maybe it was karma, how the universe ‘just so happened’ to drop Eren into your lap.

No, it had to be karma because why else would it have been an instant match between you? Eren had already made his choice. Dug his own grave, so to speak. But it was you who decided you would make this mess together.

Didn’t think I’d see you on here.

You wondered if Eren even knew about the breakup, let alone the details of it. You made it crystal clear for him.

I didn’t think I’d have to dump your friend for cheating on me, but here we are :)

His reply: Fuck, you serious? I’m sorry.

It arrived in two separate messages, and strangely enough, it disarmed you. Not because of his sentiment but because of the familiarity, the specific sense of comfort he evoked. For once, it wasn’t a grueling performance where each of you would spend no less than fifteen minutes crafting every message.

You knew Eren well enough—about as well as anyone knew their boyfriend’s friends, as deep as conversations shared in loud sports bars. When you thought about meeting up with him, your stomach didn’t pit the way it did when you imagined a stranger.

So I figured I deserved to have a little fun now that I’m single.

You weren’t forthright with it, but the intent was obvious enough. And God, it sent him absolutely reeling. From Eren’s perspective, you were entirely off-limits. Like blaring horns and flashing-red-lights level of off-limits. He couldn’t just go and fuck his friend’s ex-girlfriend!

But he was going to.

Which brought you to tonight; not just any old Friday night, but Valentine’s Day. You could have complained about it, but getting drinks with Eren consoled your ego more than spending the day alone. Though you could do without the incidental comments mistaking you and Eren as a lovestruck couple.

“Happy Valentine’s Day. You make a stunning couple, by the way,” the bartender said. Earnestly, too, in the way you could tell she wasn’t just doing her job.

“That’s all her,” Eren replied, tossing you a cheeky grin.

Okay, maybe the night wasn’t all that bad.

Halfway through your second drink, you drummed up the courage to ask the question you weren’t sure you wanted to hear the answer to.

Stirring your drink, you asked, “You didn’t know about it, did you?”

You didn’t need to specify what ‘it’ was before Eren answered, “Of course not.”

You found relief knowing you weren’t the only clueless one, the person ambling around with the ‘kick me!’ note taped to your back for everyone’s entertainment.

“Of course not,” you repeated. A confident answer if you’d ever heard one. You sat higher in your seat, interested. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, I would’ve told him to come clean about it. Any of us would’ve,” Eren said, listing a few of your mutual friends. Well, they were just your ex’s friends now; you had nothing in common with them anymore.

“And,” his gaze lifted from the drink swirling in his hand to you, “maybe I was waiting for you to break up.”

Your eyes narrowed, but your smile widened. “Why?”

“You’re full of questions tonight,” he said with a slight laugh. He took a long sip. “Isn’t the answer kinda obvious?”

Between the lines, you read: Because I wanted tonight to happen. Because I wanted to get with you. Because I want to fuck you.

You tossed back the rest of your drink, slammed it back onto the bartop with, “Your place then?”

And that was exactly how you wound up back at his apartment, in his bed. With limbs strewn amongst tousled sheets. With legs pulled apart and his hand between, fingers buried inside you, working in tandem with his thumb against your clit.

You could hardly hold your eyes open, only catching glimpses of him fucking you with his fingers through fluttering eyes. He’d found a rhythm you could only describe as mind-numbing, leaving you desperate and twitchy in his arms.

It didn’t take long for him to get you nearly there; for either of you to get each other half-naked, with him stripped to his boxers, and you with panties still circling your ankle, shirt shoved over your tits; for him to have you slick with hot desire after a few chaste kisses placed thoughtfully against your neck.

It had been over a year, nearly two, since you’d last been with anyone other than your ex-boyfriend. You’d forgotten the dizzying rush that came along with it. The exhilaration of someone new’s hands exploring your body for the first time, discovering the parts they like best. Every touch came as a surprise, keeping you teetering the edge in the best way possible, with your mouth slack and gasping, and your skin prickling in delight.

You puffed an exhale when Eren slipped his fingers from you. It was a much-needed moment of respite, allowing you to steady your shallow breaths, but you ached for release just as much, squeezing your thighs together like you could replicate the loss.

Eren indulged himself with a taste, bringing his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. Before you could register it, he used the same fingers to grasp your jaw, angling you for a kiss. Heat radiated through your stomach as you tasted yourself, the muscles clenching hotly as his tongue rolled against yours.

You lightly pushed him down onto his back and crawled atop. You straddled him, perched on your knees as you worked his boxers down until they were out of your way. His cock bounced to tap his lower stomach, only for you to ignore it.

You made yourself comfortable, palms flattened to his chest, with your cunt settled against his ungiving abdominals. You rocked your hips, teasing not only him but yourself as you showed him just how wet, how warm, you were.

You made a mess of him, your arousal coating his front and the pretty trail of hair leading to his insistent cock. Swollen and begging for your attention, you felt it resting against the curve of your ass, jolting with every one of your little movements, and your little moans to match.

Sitting a bit higher this time, you took him in your hand and slipped him between you. You glided your soft cunt over the length of him, back and forth, your head lolling to one side as you enjoyed the steady pressure of the head of his cock nudging your clit.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Eren groaned. His voice lowered, grew breathier, encouraging you with every word.

He placed his hands on the tops of your thighs, squeezing and smoothing over them, guiding you from a languid pace to something less torturous. Your hips spasmed then, your mouth dropping to a small O for him to pop his thumb into, wetting it before circling your clit.

You were caught in the headrush, in the frissons pulsing through your being before overtaking you like a power surge. Something came over you, you didn’t know what, but when you decided you needed him inside you right then and there, you told him, “I have an idea.”

Despite his better judgment, Eren would probably do just about anything you asked if it meant he could fuck you. Even if it entailed him recording the act just to send to his friend in some sort of revenge scheme.

He couldn’t tell if you were serious at first, but your eyes were full of purpose when you asked for his help a second time, throwing in a ‘pretty please’ and all.

Eren knew he wasn’t thinking straight, but frankly, he didn’t care. Seeing you, like this, he found his friend an even bigger idiot than before. How could he possibly give this up?

So that was how he would justify sending his friend a video of him fucking his ex-girlfriend raw.

Eren angled his phone so the camera only captured you from the waist down. The video would remain entirely anonymous to just about anyone—except you, Eren, and your ex. He wouldn’t need to see your face to recognize you; he would be able to tell even as you sat reverse cowgirl on Eren’s lap. He would recognize your giggle of a moan as Eren pinned your wrists against the dip in back with a single hand, and recognize your frantic whines as he began to fuck up into you.

While the video was intended for your ex, that didn’t mean Eren couldn’t film it for himself just as much. It was hedonistic, the way he spread the fat of your ass for a better view, filming how your pussy gripped him so fucking perfectly. He thumbed over your tight hole, letting the camera catch the cute way you flexed in response. Eren touched you wherever he pleased, every place your ex no longer could.

He yanked you down on him, stealing your breath as you cried, “Oh, fuck, Eren. I’m gonna come.”

Eren watched you on the screen of his phone, watched how your body slacked with disappointment when he pulled out just shy of your orgasm. You thought it was an accident until he stopped you from putting it back in. You let out a pathetic whine of his name as your greedy cunt clenched around nothing.

“So impatient,” Eren tutted, his voice teeming with self-satisfaction as he stroked himself at the sight.

He locked his phone and tossed it to the other side of the bed. It was becoming a needless distraction from what he really wanted. He sat upright, pushing you down onto all fours.

If he was going to make you come, he wanted it to be on his face.

You expected to feel his cock bullying at your entrance, but he met you with something much gentler: his tongue lapping a broad stripe through you. Your toes curled like he had licked a spark up your spine as he continued flicking and focusing on your clit.

He was methodic with it, dedicated to your undoing. He found the pressure you liked, the right speed, then he stuck to it.

Your head dropped between your shoulders as you panted, “Ah, hah—that feels so fucking good. Don’t—don’t stop.”

He wouldn’t dream of it, licking and licking you until you came crashing down, quite literally. Your orgasm stole whatever strength remained in your wobbly elbows, and your chest collapsed to the bed. It put such a pretty arch in your back, your ass high in the air for Eren to push back inside your fluttering, now sopping cunt.

Your mouth fell open with a silent yelp, smothered by your cheek smushed in the sheets. You were so sensitive, whimpering with every maddening ram of his hips, but all you could think about was how you wanted a recording of this, the obscene sight in the mirror opposite you.

Eren’s eyes were trained on your reflection, dedicated and concentrated as if you would disappear if he dared to look away. He was mesmerized by you, your body, every bounce of it as he tugged you back by your hips.

You caught his eye in the reflection, his sharpened gaze meeting your dreamy—or as he’d call it, fucked-out—one. You reached a hand back to try and touch him, fingertips barely grazing his thigh.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl. I’m not going anywhere,” Eren shushed softly, contrasting the harsh, deep, thrust that had your vision spotting white.

You didn’t notice when his movements turned sloppy or how shameless he became in getting himself off the more it closed in on him.

He curved a hand around your neck, just beneath your jaw. He tilted your head back to look at him, not with a choking force but with a caress of your face. It was tender despite the filthy way he asked you, “He never fucked you like this, did he? Never made you feel this good, like you deserved.”

You could only moan incoherently, but Eren felt his word’s effect on you. Your walls throbbed around him, like you were sucking him in for more. You wanted more.

He pinched your cheeks together. “Tell me what you deserve.”

Your voice was a moony babble, barely-there whispers of, “To make you come. Please, Eren. Come for me.”

He moaned—practically whined—at your unexpected pleas, quite possibly the hottest thing he’d ever heard. He didn’t last another second before pulling out just in time, pumping his come across your back.

You finally let your heavy limbs drop to the bed, shooting Eren a lazy smile over your shoulder. He breathlessly returned it, running a hand through his hair. He plucked a few tissues from his nightstand and wiped you off before you rolled onto your back.

You watched the rise and fall of your chest, the valley between your breasts sporting a thin layer of sweat as you sweltered in the heady bedroom. You stayed like that for what felt like too long, leading Eren to worry he was too rough.

He propped himself on his elbow, pushing some of your hair from your face to get a good look at you. When he asked if you were okay, you assured him you were. You were only a bit dazy, basking in the comedown of it all.

Eren remembered the recording and searched for his phone. He flipped through it, ready to ask if you seriously wanted him to send it to your ex-boyfriend (and secretly crossing his fingers you wouldn't ask him to delete it), when he interrupted himself with, “Fuck.”

“What?” you asked, unbothered and lying there with your eyes closed.

“I didn’t press record,” he groaned.

You shot upright. “Seriously?”

“Sorry, I was a little occupied,” he deflected. You pulled a face. “Listen, I’m just as disappointed as you. Trust me.”

You flopped back to the bed with a sigh. You supposed it didn’t matter much; who knew if you even had the courage to send it anyway?

Eren thought it over as another silent minute passed between you. He had already crossed the point of no return, so surely, there was no harm in innocently asking, "We could try again, you know?"

thank you for reading xo

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #divider by @/cafekitsune

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monzabee · 9 months

Text

déjà vu (beyoncé’s version) – ln4

masterlist

Summary: The one where a bad prank leads to you and Lando exploring an option you thought was not an option.

Pairing: lando norris x bestfriend!reader (nicknamed Tink)

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: smut elements but no actual smut, cursing, pining and of course fluff!

Request: “Haiiii. I love your style of writing Lando and feel like you would 100% do a request justice to scratch the itch in my brain Reader and him have been childhood friends, mutual pining with some sexual tension but never crossed lines other than a new years kiss with friends etc. So reader ends up training and qualifying as a physio/masseuse and travelling with Lando bc fun besties on tour together yay! Thinking she ends up getting to know his body really well from that and has to massage some intimate area- tension builds blah. They have a cosy night in together after front row quali to prep for the race, face masks cuddles bc really physically comfortable together and then some confessions happen. After this going out to celebrate home race (not jinxing tomorrow!!) and reader ends up dancing with another driver, Lando gets jealous fully opens up and they go home together (as much detail on that as you feel comfortable with) No probs if it’s something you don’t feel inspired to write! Pls continue writing whatever you love because I love to read your stuff!!”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! am i back after a literal month of no fics?? i hope so!! thank you so much for being patient with me you guysi i appreciate it, and i just want to say that this was the first time i wrote for lando (and you can definitely thank @userlando and her lando brainrot posts for that) and i’m kind of obsessed!! so as always, thank you to the anon for the request, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Being friends with Lando has resulted in both of you getting in trouble way too many times, you realise. The most recent case? The both of you ended up in a supply closet nearby the Aston Martin hospitality, hiding from a very, very, angry Spaniard. The close proximity and the limited space wouldn’t have been a big issue, for if Lando wasn’t looking at you with that look in his eyes. Under normal other circumstances, your reaction would’ve been much more different to the one you give him now – which is a glare that shows him you are not happy with the situation the both of you are in.

You’re about to scold him, but the words on your tongue quickly die as he presses his index finger to your lips. “I know you’re about to yell at me,” he whispers as he tries to keep his voice as low as possible, “but I really don’t want to be found right now.”

“Then maybe you should’ve thought about that before, you bloody idiot.” You hiss while slapping his hand away, which wins you a mock pout in return. “Why would you play that song every time he walked into a room?”

“It’s his name,” Lando tries to reason, “I thought he’d be used to it by now!”

Here’s the sitch. Lando, being the absolute prankster he is, decided to play ‘Fernando’ every time his former teammate entered into a room that morning – which resulted in the Spaniard becoming more and more annoyed with him until he snapped and Lando had to find himself a hiding place. How did you get roped into this, you may ask? You have absolutely no idea, other than your best friend dragging you into a nearby storage closet as you were walking back to the McLaren hospitality after meeting up with some of your friends for a cup of coffee. And now? The two of you are stuck inside a closet which is obviously too small for you both, and Lando has to bend his neck in an uncomfortable position.

“Lando,” you whisper in an attempt to keep your voice down, “don’t bend your head like that, you’ll strain something.”

“Well it’s not exactly comfortable, Tink.” He grimaces as one of the shelves hit his neck, which causes him to let out a low groan.

Ignoring the nickname he’s used for years, you motion him to move lower. “Just– let me see, okay?”

He begrudgingly nods as he bends his body towards you to accommodate you. You let your fingers run across his skin to find any knots along his shoulders. He lets out another low groan, but this one is more appreciative as you work some of the knots your fingers end up finding.

You watch as Lando’s expression changes from painful discomfort to relief as your fingers work their magic on his tense muscles. For a brief moment, it's just the two of you in the confined space, and you almost get lost in the comfortable silence. “Feels good,” Lando murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, “I swear you have magic hands or something.”

You let out a breathy chuckle, “I just know your body, Lando.” After realising the words that come out of your mouth, your face flushes with embarrassment at the unintended implication of your words and you scramble to add, “Not like that, I didn’t mean–”

He smirks playfully, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Oh, really? My body, huh? You think about my body often?” he teases, his hands squeezing your waist – and being lost in the moment, you don’t even know how they ended up there.

Your cheeks grow even hotter, and you feel your heart rate quicken. “No, that's not what I meant,” you stammer, trying to regain your composure, “and you know it’s basically my job to think about, you know?”

The mischievous glint in his eyes shine brightly as he decides to play dumb, “To think about what, baby?”

Your heart skips a beat at his teasing, and you can't help but let out a small laugh, trying to hide your embarrassment. “Don't be ridiculous, Lando,” you retort, trying to act cool despite the butterflies in your stomach. “I meant knowing your body like an expert, considering the fact that you pull a muscle every time you decide to do a physical activity.”

He chuckles, and his hands, still resting on your waist, give you a playful squeeze. "Sure, sure, Tink," he replies, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "But let's be honest, it's not just my body you know well. You practically read my mind too."

You roll your eyes, trying to playfully push him away. "Oh, please. You're not that hard to figure out."

Lando leans in a little closer, his grin still evident. "Is that so? Then tell me, oh expert of Lando Norris, what am I thinking right now?"

You raise an eyebrow, not falling for his trick. "You're probably thinking that you got away with the Fernando prank and now you owe me big time, your brain is empty most of the time."

He smirks, impressed by your response. "You're good, Tink. But you're right, I do owe you one. What can I do to make it up to you?"

You pause, the closeness between the two of you making it difficult to think clearly. "Well, for starters, maybe you can stop dragging me into your pranks and getting us into trouble," you suggest with a hint of a smile. “And I don’t know, maybe take pole for me, you know?”

As the playful banter continues, you both seem to forget about the predicament you're in. The confined space of the closet no longer feels suffocating; instead, it becomes a haven for shared laughter and camaraderie.

Just as the two of you are lost in the moment, the closet door suddenly opens, and you both freeze. The angry Spaniard stands before you once again, but this time, his expression has softened, seeing you and Lando in a surprisingly intimate moment.

"Am I interrupting something?" Fernando asks, his tone amused.

Your face turns beet red, and Lando lets out a nervous chuckle. "Oh, hey there. Just having a chat, you know."

But Fernando raises an eyebrow, still looking amused. "In a supply closet?"

You and Lando exchange a sheepish glance, realizing how the situation must appear to Fernando. "Well, we kind of got caught up in the moment," you admit, hoping he doesn't read too much into it.

Fernando chuckles, and there's a warm glint in his eyes. "I see. Well, it's none of my business, but you might want to find a less cramped place to chat next time."

You nod in agreement, grateful that Fernando seems to be taking the situation lightly. "You're right. We'll keep that in mind," you say, trying to sound casual.

Lando adds with a grin, "Yeah, and we promise not to play 'Fernando' every time you enter a room from now on." But he’s quick to correct himself when you give him a glare, “I promise not to play 'Fernando' every time you enter a room from now on."

Fernando chuckles again, seemingly amused by the whole ordeal. "I'd appreciate that. Anyway, carry on. I won't keep you two any longer."

As he walks away, you let out a sigh of relief. "That could have been a lot worse," you say, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

"Yeah, we got lucky," Lando agrees, giving you a playful nudge. "But you know what they say, Tink, nothing like a bit of closet bonding to strengthen a friendship."

You roll your eyes at his playful banter, but there's a fondness in your heart as you look at him. "You're incorrigible, Lando Norris."

He grins, "You love it, though."

You can't help but smile, knowing he's right. “Come on,” you say, “you have a quali to attend.”

The tension from the qualifying session had left you on edge, your heart pounding with every lap, and your nerves had gotten the better of you, leading to some slightly bloody nails from biting them in anticipation. But all that anxiety melts away when you see Lando step out of the car, grinning ear to ear. As soon as he catches sight of you, he opens his arms, and you don't hesitate for a moment. You rush into his embrace, holding him tightly, relieved that he's safe and thrilled that he performed so well.

"You were amazing out there!" you exclaim, unable to hide the pride in your voice. "P2, front row! That's incredible!"

Lando chuckles, his arms still wrapped around you. "I don’t know how we did it!"

You pull back slightly to look into his eyes, your heart swelling with admiration for your best friend. "I never doubted you for a second," you say earnestly.

His grin widens, and he playfully ruffles your hair. "I know you didn't. Seems like you’re my lucky charm, hm?"

“You know what that means?” You ask him return, a playful smirk on your lips.

His answer comes quickly, and his look seems to reflect your own, “Pizza and a movie?”

Your reply is just as enthusiastic as you throw your arms around him and give him a big smile, “Pizza and a movie, baby!”

Eventually, you manage to escape the whole hustle and bustle of the circuit, and you and Lando find yourselves back at the hotel, with you on the couch trying to find something to watch and him deciding to take a quick shower after the stressful day of qualifying. After a few minutes, you hear the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. You smile to yourself, glad that Lando is taking some time to relax after such a demanding day. As you wait for him to finish, you finally settle on a movie to watch with a small grin on your face, clearly pleased with your choice. Just as you're about to start the movie, you hear the bathroom door open, and Lando emerges, looking refreshed and relaxed.

After he gets the pizza box out of the oven, he walks over to the couch, wearing sweatpants instead of his jeans, and flops down next to you. "That shower was exactly what I needed," he says with a contented sigh.

You chuckle, glancing at him, while also trying to actively ignore the fact that he’s wearing grey sweatpants. "Feeling better now?"

"Definitely," he replies, flashing you a grin. "So, what are we watching?"

“Mamma Mia,” you scoff, “of course.”

“A classic, nice.” He nods in understanding, extending the pizza box to you for you to take a slice. “It’s still warm.”

You wordlessly grab a slice and pass the box back to Lando as you settle in your seat, ready to focus on your choice of movie. The comfortable silence between you feels familiar, like the unspoken language of best friends who have shared countless memories and moments together. Throughout the movie, you can't help but notice Lando's occasional stolen glances at you, and you find yourself stealing glances right back. He even winks at you with that boyish grin every time he catches you staring at him, making you giggle as you quickly turn your attention back onto the screen. You somehow find yourself sprawled out on the couch once the pizza box is emptied and discarded, and it’s harder for you to keep your eyes open. With your head on Lando’s lap, he plays with the ends of your hair as the two of you try to keep your attention on the screen.

‘Try,’ being the operative word here, since Lando realises that you end up falling asleep in the middle of the movie where Sophie realises all of the men she invited to the wedding thinks they are her father, and though he finds some kind of comfort in the chaos knowing that it will get resolved eventually, he can’t help but take his role as a makeshift human pillow very seriously. As the movie continues playing, Lando tries his best not to disturb your peaceful slumber. He leans back against the couch, adjusting his position so you can rest more comfortably on his lap while also trying so hard to not wake you up. He can't help but smile to himself as he plays with your hair, finding himself mesmerized by the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathe.

With a sudden realisation that maybe it is not the best thing to stare at you while you sleep, he tries to occupy himself with something on his phone while also trying to keep still so that you don’t wake up. However, the text thread between him and Max quickly makes him realise that the thoughts that he tries so hard to keep away. He never gave himself the opportunity to think about the two of you that way, he supposes. Not that it would be weird or anything, but in his mind, he’d seen, and been in, far too many relationships form and de-form to know that not all is permanent when it comes to relationships and it’s also not something he’d want to risk when it comes to you. Although the unwarranted thoughts of the two of you together, as a couple, have been haunting him for the past couple of months, he did a great job of sending them away and finding something else to focus on – up until now, that is. And now that he’s pictured the two of you together, holding hands in the streets of Monaco, going on dates, doing more than what ‘best friends’ are meant to do, it doesn’t seem that daunting to give it a try.

He carefully shifts you onto his lap with gentle movements, surprised that you don’t wake up and also trying to figure out the best way to wake you up without startling you. As he gently brushes your cheek, your eyes flutter open, and you look up at him with a sleepy smile. "Did I miss the end of the movie?" you ask, your voice still heavy with sleep.

Lando chuckles, shaking his head, but not stilling the movement of his hand. “No, we just finished. You fell asleep somewhere in the middle.”

You sit up slightly, rubbing your eyes with a small yawn. “I'm sorry,” you say, sounding apologetic.

“No need to apologise,” he assures you, his thumb caressing your cheek. “You looked adorable sleeping, Tink.”

Your cheeks flush slightly, and you give him a playful nudge. “Stop teasing me.”

Lando grins, but there's a tenderness in his eyes as he looks at you. “I'm not teasing, Tink. I mean it. You always look adorable, no matter what you're doing.”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his sincere compliment, and you can't help but smile back. “Thank you,” you say softly, feeling a warmth spreading through you, “I, uh, I should probably go to my room and let you sleep.”

“What? No, you don’t have to go.” Lando’s eyebrows furrow on their own, “I mean, you could stay over, it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

You give him an unsure look, “I don’t know, Lando, you have a race tomorrow.”

“And we’ll sleep,” he shrugs, “the name ‘sleepover’ implies that, baby.”

You end up giving in and nodding, albeit a little hesitant. "Alright, I'll stay over."

Lando's face lights up with a bright smile, clearly pleased with your decision. "Great! It'll be fun, just like old times."

You chuckle softly. "Yeah, just like old times."

And you’d expect it to feel like the old times, because the two of you said it would be like the old times – the times where you’d spend the night over at his house because his mother picked you up and you didn’t want the playtime to be over. But instead of the excitement of a prolonged play date with your best friend, you find yourself anxious in the hotel bathroom over the fact that it’s him out there, and there is no way that he is not aware of the way you feel about him. You take a moment to compose yourself, splashing some cold water on your face to calm your nerves. This situation is new territory for both of you, and you don't want anything to ruin the friendship the two of you have. When you eventually make your way out of the bathroom, you desperately want to go back in, feeling undoubtedly exposed under Lando’s burning gaze.

“What?” You ask, your voice coming off weaker than you hoped, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

It takes a minute for him to answer you, mainly because of the fact that poor Lando is having a brain malfunction at the sight of you in his shirt – which he gave it to you because it was the only logical option for sleepwear, you know? Suddenly regretting his possessive streak, he attempts to clear his throat, “Nothing, you look good in my clothes.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you try not to let yourself become reduced to a blubbering mess, “Oh, well thank you. It’s yours,” after a brief moment of realisation you quickly add, “but you already knew that.”

“Tink,” he calls out, snapping you out of whatever embarrassed state you’re in, and your eyes quickly snap to his. “Come here,” he pleads as he extends one of his towards you, he’s quick to draw you into his arms – and just like that, you find yourself straddling your best friend.

“This is crazy,” you whisper as Lando grabs you by the waist to still your movements as you try to find a comfortable position while not realising just how uncomfortable it becomes for him.

“It doesn’t have to be,” his whisper is just as soft as yours as he looks up to you, “we don’t have to make it weird.”

A compromise, you’ll take it. “Are you going to kiss me?”

“Do you want me to kiss you?” As much as you hate it when he replies to your questions with his own, you nod your head with a sheepish look on your face, though it doesn’t satisfy Lando as a valid answer. “I need you to say it, baby.”

You answer comes of in an instant. “I do, please.”

“Such good manners,” he mumbles while giving you that boyish grin you love oh so much. When he catches biting the corner of your lip, you’re broken out of your daydream by his thumb pulling your lip free. “Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself,” his thumb caresses the side of your lip, “that’s my job, anyway.”

Your cheeks flush at his playful comment, and you can't help but smile at his words. "Your job, huh?" you tease, feeling the tension in the air starting to dissipate.

Lando chuckles, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your waist. "Among other things," he replies with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Before you give yourself the opportunity to overthink, you lean in and press a soft kiss to Lando’s lips – it’s only a peck, a hesitant one at that, but not completely uncharted territory when you think about it. The two of you have shared kisses before, at Christmas or New Year’s at midnight, but somehow this simple peck feels different than any of those other occasions. Lando doesn’t rush you. He’s a patient man after all, and he knows that the feelings he has for you are reciprocated by the feelings you have for him. So when you look him with widened eyes, he gives you a soft smile and it does wonders to calm your nerves. It doesn’t take you long to press your lips against his once again, but this time the kiss is deeper, more passionate, and filled with the unspoken words that have lingered between you for too long.

It starts off with another peck, but this time you take the initiative to deepen the kiss, and the appreciative groan that leaves Lando’s lips makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. His hands move from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him, while yours tangle in his hair, revelling in the softness of his curls – and the fact that all of this feels almost familiar in some kind of a way. He’s not shy as he lets his tongue explore your mouth, in fact, he encourages you to do the same. It’s a messy kiss filled with colliding tongues and mixed breaths, and the hands that were on your waist one moment are now on your hips, encouraging their slow movement against his groin. It’s not a subtle build-up for any of you, either. It a matter of seconds, you find yourself dry-humping your childhood best friend in his hotel room, and in a couple more, both of you are whimpering into the kiss.

You’re both out of breath and breathing deeply as you rest your forehead against Lando’s. Thankfully, his hands continue to guide your hips as their movement get more and more erratic, and you him groan out, “Slow down, baby.”

You let out an objective whimper in return, whispering out a weak, “No.”

“No?” Lando repeats, his breath hitting your exposed neck in a light chuckle, “Do you want to come?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, letting your hands grab handfuls of his hair, “but you can’t fuck me.”

The whine that comes from your lips can only be described as bratty when Lando forces your hips to cease their movements, raising an eyebrow at you as he grumbles, “Excuse me?”

“You can’t fuck me, Lando.” You mumble, trying to move your hips again, but his hold is too powerful against your attempts. “At least not tonight.”

“And why is that, Tink?” He takes in your wide eyes and shuddering breath in, thinking he’d done something wrong, something you didn’t like. “You want to come, no?” He thinks at that moment, as you give him a nod with that dreamy and almost innocent look on your face, he could die and he’d be happy with where his life has led him, but he gives you a confused look, “Then what is the problem?”

“Um, you have a race tomorrow,” you explain as your fingers gently slide down to meet at the nape of his neck, “I don’t want to jinx anything.”

As a respond to your words, Lando gives you a look of disbelief, “You don’t want to jinx me having a good race,” he mumbles.

You give him another nod, “Are you mad at me?”

“Am I mad at you?” Lando repeats the question, and he flips the two of you over in a smooth motion so that you're lying on the bed with him hovering above you, his eyes locked onto yours. “Answer the question for me, will you?”

You take a moment to catch your breath, your heart racing as you meet his intense gaze. “No,” you reply softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “Why would you be mad at me?”

Lando's lips curve into a playful smile as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “See?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours, “Good girl.” As he moves down your body, you let out a protesting sound, but he quickly shushes you as he positions himself between your legs. “I’m going to make you come, and you’re not talking to Micheal Italiano ever again.” He taps the side of your hips to signal you to raise them up as he carefully takes off your underwear and then murmurs to himself, “Pretty girl, too.”

With a blush which is quickly spreading onto your cheeks and neck, you raise yourself onto your elbows as you watch him give you the do-over. “Lando,” you plead.

“Oh baby, you're wet,” he teases, “don’t worry, though, I’ll help you with that.” He also gives you a look while grabbing both of your thighs, “And the shirt fucking stays on.”

After the events of the previous night with Lando working wonders between your legs for the remainder of the night, he honestly didn’t expect to start the morning with you returning the favour. Alas there you were, between his legs, with sleepy eyes and an innocent smile as if you hadn’t just given him the best blowjob of his life. And as the two of you make your way along the paddock, he wishes he was back in his hotel room with you in his arms. You try your best to distract him from overthinking everything and costing himself the race, and Lando is aware of what you’re trying to do – though that doesn’t mean you succeed completely.

You can tell by the small frown of eyebrows that he is lost inside his head, probably double guessing every aspect of the strategy his team debriefed him about this morning. With a deep inhale, you give his hand a small squeeze, halting your movements to stop him alongside you. “Hey,” you call out gently, “you’re going to be amazing out there, okay? You have nothing to worry about.”

“I know, it’s just the pressure is getting to me.” You watch him sigh, closing his eyes for a moment to regroup his thoughts, “I’ll be fine before I go in the car, I promise.”

You nod, giving him an encouraging smile, “I know you will. After all, you feel the–”

“Need for speed.” He completes the sentence without thinking, which makes the two of share a short laughter. “Thanks, Tink.”

“You’re welcome,” lifting yourself up on your tiptoes, you give him a soft peck on his lips, “I’ll watch the race with your dad, okay?” You chuckle at his reaction when he lets out a prolonged groan, “What?”

“He’s going to make fun of us, big time.” He says, rolling his eyes.

“Go,” you say in between laughter, “don’t be late and for the love of God, be careful!”

Lando chuckles at your playful warning, giving you a mock salute. “Yes, ma'am!”

It doesn’t take long for you to find Adam, who gives you a knowing look, in the sea of spectators in the McLaren garage. And as the race begins, you and Adam stand side by side, your eyes fixed on the track where the race is unfolding. The first four laps as the Lando leads the race makes your heart beat so hard, you can practically feel the excitement coursing through your veins. Each turn and straightaway that Lando navigates flawlessly adds to the anticipation building in the air. Even when he returns to his original position, you’re on the edge, praying to whatever deity up there for him to finish this race without and incident. You’ve told him million times before that you don’t get F1 at all, you’ve always thought the adrenaline linked with the sport to be a negative feeling – too heavy, too much and definitely not something you want to feel every weekend. But in the moment that Lando passes the finishing line P2, you realise why people are so obsessed with this sport. Because when Lando crosses the finish line, you find yourself cheering as loudly as anyone else. The rush of emotions, once alien to you, now feels like a shared celebration of human achievement and dedication.

Lando is all smiles when he finally finds his way back to you, and he’s giving you a kiss the moment he has you back in his arms; celebrating with the team in the paddock was a whirlwind of emotions. As he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, his big smile is infectious.

So you’re honestly confused when he starts dragging you through the hallways of the club you went to for his celebrations with the rest of the team. The beat of the music playing back in the dancefloor echoes in the hallway as he leads you down the hall. The lights, the laughter, and the energy of the celebrations in the main area of the club are still audible, but you can only hear the muffled sounds of the celebration being held for him. “Lando,” in hopes of finally getting some answers, you say his name for the umpteenth time, but he just looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, “what’s wrong?”

He's silent as he wraps his arms around your waist and before you can repeat your question he buries his head in the crook of your neck. While you’re thinking about what could’ve caused his sudden need to be alone with you, he’s very glad that you’ve opted to wear sneakers tonight instead of heels.

“Baby,” you murmur, your fingers running through his curls in an attempt to bribe him, “tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong.” His voice is muffled by your skin and you can feel the breath he exhales on your shoulder.

You purse your lips and give him a few moments for him to break on his own, but when he doesn’t, you sigh softly. “Something is wrong.”

He raises his head momentarily to give you an unamused look, then bury his head back into your neck, “I saw you and Oscar.”

“Yeah, we were talking about the race.” Your confirmation leaves you confused as he lets out a scoff, and you find yourself warily asking, “Is there something wrong with that?”

You hear him scoff again and then, “Well I didn’t particularly like it.”

You gently push him off of you as you try to look past his confused expression and pouted lips, “You didn’t like me talking to your teammate… about your race.”

“Well when you put it like that–”

“Lando he is two years younger than us, and he has a girlfriend you do realise that, don’t you?” Your hands rest on either side of your body on your hips as you give him a small grin, “You were jealous, weren’t you?”

His eyes widen as he nods, “Well yeah, Tink, I think that one was very much obvious when I dragged you here.”

“I mean,” you drawl, “it was kind of cute, you know?”

As his eyes narrow, Lando walks you backwards until you’re pressed up against the wall. “Well I am a cute person.”

“Oh yeah,” you let out a giggle, “the cutest.” Your fingers toy with the buttons of his shirt while you look up at him to meet his eyes, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That we should probably get back to the party?” He mumbles, his eyes drifting as he looks around the hall.

You fist the collar of his shirt as you raise yourself up on your tiptoes, your voice lowering down for only him to hear even if it’s a deserted hallway, “You don’t have a race tomorrow.”

His eyes come back down to meet yours, “Well yes, it’s Mond– oh,” it takes a moment for him to realise what you’ve meant, and you’re thrown over his shoulder in an instant.

“Wha– Lando put me down!” You shriek, “What are you doing?”

His voice is playful as he starts walking towards the back door of the club, “We are not leaving that hotel room for a few days.”

It doesn’t take long for you to start laughing, “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs the opposite shoulder, “but I’m your idiot.”

The sincerity in his words catches you off guard, but you can’t help the small smile forming on your lips as you murmur, “Yeah, yeah you are.”

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catcze · 5 months

Note

i love reading your works, they make excited to read again

but i was wondering, how do you think wriothesley would be in a royal au where we’re the noble and he’s our bodygaurd?? 👀

!!! THE WAY I LOVE THIS TROPE SO MUCHAKJSNDKJNASJDNAKSJ

Bodyguard! Wriothesley is quite possibly the best thing that's ever happened to you. He's relaxed— much less uptight and by-the-books as some of the bodyguard that have been with you in the past.

Bodyguard! Wriothesley doesn't try to limit your movements or the activities you do, only under the condition that he either comes with you or that you don't do anything outright life-endangering. You wanna dress up as a regular person and wander around the city? Sure. Just let him know, and he'll even procure the disguises the two of you will use. You want to go for a walk in the woods? As long as you both stick to the safer paths and don't stay out past dark, he doesn't see why not.

Bodyguard! Wriothesley cares for your sake. He lets you indulge in whatever hobbies you like— gardening, embroidering, horseback riding, sword-fighting. Whatever it may be, he accompanies you and just lets you have your fun. He even helps you out sometimes, such as sparring with you, or being the one to hold your books for you as you wander around the library.

Bodyguard! Wriothesley even helps you when it comes to your official duties as a noble. He can't help directly, of course, but he helps you organize your files, sort through the numerous documents on your desk, and even provides some useful input in the fields where he's got some experience. Not to mention, when he's your only company in that lonely lonely office for hours to come, he converses with you during the slower periods of time. He talks about anything under the sun— anything that he thinks you'll find interesting, or that might elicit a smile from you. Be it anecdotes from his own life, stories from his time before being a bodyguard, or even just interesting facts he's learned from a book he's found in the library. If he sees you needing a mental break, he's more than happy to provide.

Bodyguard! Wriothesley who accompanies you in your office in the late evenings, long after you've already dismissed him for the night. The moon could be high overhead, the owls hooting and the fireplace in your office crackling away, and this man will absolutely refuse to leave your side until you're finished. To your face, he tells you that it's out of duty. That a risk to your life could come even this late at night, and that so long as you are vigilant with your duties, so shall he. But a teeny tiny little part of his heart is doing it because he wants to make sure that you're alright, too. That while you burn the midnight oil, there is water in the pitcher by your desk, and fresh slices of fruit in the plate. He wants to make sure that your office is neither too cold nor too hot, and that if you choose to stay up late in the winters where the fireplace cannot keep up with the chill, he is there to offer his own coat is he sees you shivering.

Bodyguard! Wriothesley who has, as a result of you being so committed to your duties and your people, been faced with the dilemma of you falling asleep at your desk more than once. Each time, he's hesitant to wake you from your slumber. If anyone knows how hard you work and how badly you need each second of rest, it is the man who hardly ever leaves your side. So instead, he approaches your dozing form hesitantly, shaking your shoulder just slightly with a gentle touch until you rouse a little.

"Your grace," Wriothesley murmurs, keeping his voice low. "I believe it's time to call it a night."

You say nothing for a few seconds, processing what he's said, but you eventiually nod, letting the smallest of yawns escape you. Wriothesley tries to hide his smile.

Then a thought crosses his mind, and though he hesitates to even offer, he sees you starting to doze off again where you sit, and he can't imagine that to be any good for your back or your neck come morning.

"Would you like me to carry you back to your room, your grace?" He asks softly— so quietly, that if he wasn't this close, you don't think you would have heard it. But you do, in fact, hear him. And while you would normally be rather embarrassed to have your bodyguard carry you anywhere, your sleepiness overrules most thoughts of embarrassment and hesitation. In this state, the most important thing is getting back to your room and getting a proper rest, so you nod.

Wriothesley puts out the fireplace in record time, returning to your barely-awake form swiftly. He easily grabs the keys to your office off your desk and hooks the keyring onto his finger.

"Alright, I'm going to lift you up now, your grace," He murmurs, one hand hooked under your legs, the other circling around your back and cradling you against him securely. You barely stir when he lifts you up, doing little more than humming .

Expertly and making sure not to jostle you, Wriothesley maneuvers you out of the office, making sure to lock it securely behind him. As he begins walking in the direction of your chambers, he can feel you leaning more and more into his hold, your head resting right above his chest. No doubt you're already half-way to dreamland, which he finds incredibly endearing.

"You can sleep for now, your grace. I'll get you back safely." His voice is so soft, like the finest silk. Softer than any of the robes you have in your closet, than the sheets that lay on your bed. You wish you could fall into that softness and slumber for hours and hours.

You lean further into Wriothesley's firm chest, thinking nothing of the way his heart seems to hasten, or how he grows warm under your touch. Sleep creeps forward more and more with each passing second, wrapping you in it's warm tendrils.

Before you completely lose yourself to it though, you manage to whisper a quiet, "Thank you, Wriothesley."

And oh, if his heart doesn't melt right then and there. You asleep in his arms, looking more relaxed than he's ever seen you. Wriothesley adjusts his grip on you slightly, making sure that you're comfortable in his grasp. And if he slows his pace a bit, unwilling to have the walk to your chambers end so quickly, that's just for him to know.

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#astronetwrk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #genshin impact #wriothesley #ASK ME MORE ABNOUT THIS AU I LOVE IT SO MUCH I COULD GO ON FOREVERHJAKJDSNKAJSNDLANJKS

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girlgenius1111 · 4 months

Text

you don't have to pretend with me

ona x reader -sickfic ish

from a request- the req was for r with chronic pain but i've never experienced that and i didn't want to write it incorrectly, so i changed it to something i have some history with :)

You hadn't had a real period in years, having been on birth control since you were a teenager. It really limited the effects of your horrible symptoms. It was simple- a shot in your ass every three months was something you could handle. However, you'd completely forgotten to get it this time. Normally you planned your next visit at the end of your appointments, but the secretary had been out, so you were supposed to call to schedule the next appointment. It had completely slipped your mind, and by the time your realized your mistake, it was too late, and they told you that you had to wait 3 months from when you were supposed to get it, in order to not mess up the cycle.

It didn't really make much sense to you, but you didn't have a choice. All you could hope was that it wouldn't be as bad as you remembered it. The first month wasn't bad, barely more than what you usually dealt with on the shot. The second month was worse, but still, manageable, especially considering it came during an off week. You were quickly approaching the third month, and you knew it wouldn't be as easy this time.

2 days before you were supposed to get it, you found yourself in a heinous mood. You'd been short with everyone, all day, even Ona. Ona, your girlfriend, who had literally no idea what was going on. It felt ridiculous to you, to complain about what was going on when every other woman dealt with it to. You'd never heard Ona complain about her period, and you didn't want her to think you were weak.

More than that, you weren't sure she'd believe you. In your last relationship, anytime you were sick or in pain, your girlfriend didn't believe you, or told you that you were being dramatic. You didn't really realize how this affected your relationship with Ona, but as you hadn't told her this, she didn't know you'd been hiding almost any sign of weakness from her.

So, you just mumbled something about having an off day when she asked why you were so grumpy. She pretty much left you alone the rest of the day, giving you the space she assumed you wanted. The only time she spoke to you was to come into the living room where you were curled up on the couch, and wish you a goodnight, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead.

-----

You woke up in the middle of the night to the sensation that someone was standing on your abdomen. It had been so long since you'd actually had cramps, you were almost alarmed, until you realized what was going on. You didn't want to get any blood on the bed, nor did you want to wake Ona up for something so trivial, so you quietly padded into the bathroom, changed your pajama shorts, and then headed out into the kitchen in search of some painkillers.

Every step was agony, and you were walking hunched over, as what you could only describe as lightning strikes of pain rippled through from your belly button down to your core whenever you tried to straighten up. You didn't make it to the cabinet you kept the medicine in, instead collapsing into a chair at the kitchen table. As soon as you sat, the zaps of pain were replaced by a continuous ache across your stomach, and around to your back.

You couldn't help the groan you let out, as you twisted uncomfortably in your seat to try to relieve the pain. It didn't work. You knew what would work, but you were absolutely sure you couldn't stand up again and make it to the medicine cabinet. Instead, you put your head in your hands, feeling tears slowly leak out of your eyes. That only made you more frustrated, which in turn made you cry harder, until you were trying to stifle sobs with your hands at the kitchen table, in the dark, at 1am.

-----

Meanwhile, Ona woke to an empty bed. She remembered you climbing in with her after she'd already gone to sleep, waking up just enough to roll into you and smush herself as close as she could. This time, though, your side of the bed was empty and cold, and Ona was disgruntled. Sleepy Ona was a grumpy Ona, something you knew very well, and she squinted her eyes open, looking over at the bathroom door, seeing if you'd just gotten up briefly. The light was off in there, though, and your side of the bed wasn't warm, indicating that you'd been up for at least a couple minutes. Sighing heavily, Ona sat up, intending to wait for you, arms crossed, to return to bed. When she saw no lights were on in the rest of the house, though, she decided to get up and find you.

The only thing she could think was that you'd gone to sleep on the couch, which didn't make any sense. You'd been grumpy yesterday, sure, but you'd gone to bed with her, and allowed her to snuggle up to you, which you wouldn't have done if you were angry. Walking down the hall, heading for the living room, she heard an odd noise in the kitchen.

She changed directions, turning right instead of left, and discovered you, slouched over at the table, crying softly into your hands. Ona was immediately distraught at the idea of you getting up in the middle of the night and leaving your bed to cry by yourself, no matter what the reason, and not waking her.

"Cariño, qué pasó?" she asked, voice raspy with sleep. At her words, your head snapped up, looking at Ona with pain etched clearly across your face. "Amor," she says sympathetically, moving forward to stand by your side.

"Oni, go back to bed," you try, attempting to sound firmer than you felt.

"Not until you tell me what is wrong." Ona replies, actually succeeding in being firm. She brushes a loose strand of hair off your face, then combs her fingers through you hair. You melt at her touch despite yourself, before you hunch over again, another wave of pain shooting through your abdomen; you'd straightened up to much. You whimper quietly, and Ona's hand pulls off of you, worried she'd done something to hurt you. That gets you talking, never wanting Ona to think she's the cause of your pain.

"It's just cramps, Ona, I'm fine," you insist, even as your face scrunches uncomfortably, and you grit your teeth through another jolt. Though confused, seeing as though she'd never known you to have bad cramps, Ona wraps her arms around you without another thought, lifting you easily to carry you back to bed. She may be short, but she prides herself on being strong enough to carry you easily, despite your many objections. "Oni," you whine, yet still, you clutch onto her tightly, resting your head on her shoulder.

"Shh, let's get you back to bed."

Once Ona gently places you back on your side of the bed, she stands back, looking at you with a determined expression. It's almost funny really, the girl standing in front of you, wearing a baggy t-shirt and shorts, wavy hair wild around her head, trying to look stern. Ona couldn't look stern, she wasn't capable. She could only ever look adorable, at least to you.

"What will help you feel better?" She asks.

You bite your lip for a moment, before the pain wins out over your independence. "Paracetamol, please," you murmur.

She nods once. "Anything else?"

You're sure there's something you're forgetting, but it's been so long since you've had cramps like this, and it hurts too bad for you to think straight. "I don't know," you whisper finally, tears spilling over again.

"Okay amor, relax, I will take care of you," the brunette says gently, leaving you with a peck on your forehead. She's only gone for a few minutes, but when she returns, you've curled yourself into a little ball on the edge of the bed, as far from her side as you could get, obviously trying not to bother her. Ridiculous, considering she wasn't going back to sleep until after you did.

She gives you the medicine, handing you a new cold water which you accept gratefully. Then, before you can tell Ona to get back in bed, she leaves the room again. She returns fast this time, holding something in her hands you don't recognize.

The defender doesn't explain, either, even though she notices the questioning look on your face. Instead, she climbs onto the bed behind you, and nudges you out of your ball to lay in between her legs, head resting back on her chest. Still silent, she rolls your shirt up, massaging the skin of your abdomen lightly. Her warm hands feel so good, you let out a sound of relief. Smiling to herself, Ona places the heating pad she brought with her across your abdomen, clicking it on. You soften completely against her, letting out a long sigh.

"Thanks, Oni," you mumble, and she kisses the top of your head in response. She isn't done with you though, patting your arm lightly when your eyes flutter close.

"Do you normally have cramps this bad?" she asks, because the thought of you hiding this from her, like you'd been doing tonight, once a month for the entirety of the time you've been dating, makes her nauseous.

"No," you tell her sleepily, briefly explaining the situation you'd found yourself in. Ona is quiet for a few moments.

"Why didn't you tell me? And why didn't you wake me up tonight?" she wonders, not able to fully hide the hurt in her voice. You're fully awake now, almost reading her mind as you realize what she's worried about; that you don't trust her.

"I didn't think it was a big deal," you say quickly. "And I didn't want to bother you with it, with something that every woman deals with," you justify.

"Amor, you hurting will always be a big deal to me." Ona insists. "You should have woken me up. Do you... do you not trust me? Did I do something to make you thing I would not take your pain seriously?" the brunette asks, and you wince at the question. This was your problem, not Ona's. Could she not see that?

"No, Oni, of course I trust you. It's... it's not about you." You pause. "I didn't want you to think I was being dramatic or weak."

"Why would I think that? Why would I not believe you when you say you are hurting?"

All she gets is a shrug in response, and she feels you shutting down again. Unwilling to let that happen, she presses you further.

"No, amor, tell me. Did someone make you feel that way? Like you could not be honest about how you were feeling?"

You don't respond for so long that Ona thinks you've fallen asleep, or just aren't going to answer.

"My ex. She used to tell me I was being dramatic when I was sick. She was right though, I was," you rush to justify.

Ona's arms tighten around you slightly, and it reassures you. When she responds, you recognize an angry tone in her voice, but also a protective one.

"That is not what a good girlfriend does. I will never do that. You are allowed to be in pain, and be sick. You are not being dramatic for feeling things. It does not make me think any less of you, and it certainly does not make me think that you are weak." Ona declares.

"Are you sure? I'd understand if you thought I was exaggerating." you say quietly. At this, Ona tilts your chin up and to the side, so she can look into your eyes.

"I found you crying at the kitchen table, you were in so much pain. That is not dramatic, not to me. I am sure." Ona promises, and she feels you relax against her, if only slightly.

"I love you," you say quietly, voice cracking on the last word.

"Te amo mucho, cariño. Mucho mucho." Ona pairs her words with several gentle kisses pressed into the side of your head.

"Ona?"

"Sí?"

"Can I go to sleep or will this light on fire if I don't turn it off," you ask seriously, referring to the heating pad laying across your abdomen. You've never used one before, and you aren't sure what the safety requirements are. Apparently, this is a dumb question, because Ona bursts out laughing, disturbing the quiet murmur of voices you both had been keeping to.

"Sí amor, you can go to sleep. I'll put you out if you light on fire, te prometo," she tells you, still laughing. You roll your eyes slightly before allowing them to flutter shut, even though you know Ona can't see the gesture.

"Wake me up if it starts to hurt again?" she asks, seriousness returning.

"Te prometo," you say, echoing her words for just a second ago. A grin tugs at Ona's lips at your spanish use.

"Bueno. Goodnight my pretty girl," Ona whispers into your hair, her use of an english term of endearment making you blush.

With that, both of you allow yourselves to drift off. You're sure, now, that Ona will not care if you wake her up. Ona is sure that you will wake her up. Or, that she'll wake up if you do, seeing as though you're sprawled on top of her. She doesn't expect perfection, or for you to start coming to her with all your problems right away. She finds that she doesn't mind having to demonstrate her love to you, though. If there's anything she loves to do, it's remind you, everyday, that she loves you unconditionally.

-----

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #ona batlle x reader

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ireadwithmyears · 10 months

Text

Absent mindedly making me want you

Pairing: Ellie Williams / female reader

Word count : 12 K 💀 I swear it’s worth it I just really wanted a well rounded story even if this is just a one shot

Summary :

Due to her first-hand experience when it comes to drowning, Ellie takes it upon herself to teach you how to swim. Something that neither of you had anticipated, however, was how intimate this endeavour would be, resulting in a day filled with unresolved sexual tension, that, unsurprisingly and inevitably comes to ahead

Tags/warnings : established relationship, soo much sexual tension, smut (18+, MDNI), porn with minor plot, dom/sub undertones, soft dom Ellie, submissive reader, inexperienced reader (first time), light hair pulling, unsafe lesbian sex, fingering, oral (F receiving), face sitting, lots of dirty talk(bc you cannot convince me that Ellie doesn’t have an absolutely filthy mouth), praise kink, overstimulation, forced orgasm, multiple orgasms, pussy slapping (just once), aftercare, fluff, no use of Y/N

“I’m sorry, wait, hold on. You’re telling me you’ve never learned how to swim?”

The settlement of Jackson has been dealing with, hopefully, the last of its winter storms for the year. Spring had crept its way around the corner, shining its promisingly hopeful rays of warm sunlight for a few, blissfully beautiful, but in the end, all two short days

But then, in what must be mother nature’s idea of a harmless joke, it was crudely snatched away and replaced with icy winds that seemed to settle within your very core, leaving you shivering long after you went inside to get warm. Wyoming had been hit with a blizzard that had caught everyone so off guard, that Jackson was ill-equipped and unprepared to handle it, leaving most of the community snowed in; workloads being much reduced and limited to essential services for the time being, until the snow abated.

This is how you and a group of friends found yourselves in Jesse’s living room, cradling mugs of hot chocolate, enjoying the warmth that seeped into your fingertips, and making a blanket fort as if you were still school children at a sleepover. The snowy days and lack of work seemed to bring out a childish side to everyone, which is how you found yourself engaged in a game of never have I ever, sitting in a tight circle with your friends and girlfriend who, up until a few seconds ago, had been absent mindedly playing with your hair, your head resting against her shoulder, where you had been quite content to stay.

But, she had now pulled back, looking at you with her eyebrows raised, lips quirked down quizzically, as if in thought. You look around at your friends, taking note of everyone else who’s never learned. You’re relieved to find that you’re not alone in this. As expected, the Jackson old-timers, the few of you who have been settled here almost your whole lives, or at least, as long as you could remember, had never encountered an environment that required the ability to swim.

“Nope, it’s never been necessary.” You shrug.

She tilts her head, thinking, a few wisps of auburn hair escaping her ponytail as she regards you, teeth lightly grazing the bottom of her lip as she appears to be calculating an idea in her mind.

“As soon as it gets warm enough, I’m taking you out, and I'm gonna teach you. Joel taught me because he said that I would never know when it was a skill that would become necessary for me to have until it’s too late,” she says, nodding to herself decisively.

“Ah, I see your dad‘s passed off his overprotectiveness onto you,” you smirk, rolling your eyes fondly.

She hits you with a pillow for that.

“Quiet, you,” she says in mock offense.

She pokes your belly lightly and you instinctively jump back with a surprised squeal. You hear the quiet amusement of your friends, Jesse barely containing a snort as he watches. You’re about to utter a retort when she reaches out, pulling you against her, settling you on her lap, where you happily go.

When she presses a chaste kiss to your lips, hand settling at the back of your neck, fingers brushing against your skin, leaving goosebumps to form beneath their eager caresses, any kind of argument dies on your lips. Resistance melts as if it hadn’t been there in the first place, and all thoughts scatter like butterflies, only landing on the one thing that you care to focus on.

It’s her, with her teasing lips and wandering hands, that explore and touch you as if she wants to know you, to memorize you, like you’re her well-kept and cherished secret. She is the only thing that surrounds your mind, the only one who holds your attention so easily, and it takes you a moment to shake yourself free of this haze. It’s strange, and euphoric, a kind of feeling that you’ve never felt before, and you find that you like it – instantly craving more the second that her lips leave yours.

She's kissed you plenty of times before, and though it’s always been an enjoyable experience for you, it’s never felt like that. You decide to file that information away for now; you’ll sort out whatever the fuck these new feelings are later.

When you do come back to yourself, your head nestled against her shoulder, her arms wrapped around you as she looks down at you with warm, soft eyes, you think, yeah, you’ll let her teach you how to swim. You’ll let her do whatever she goddamn pleases, as long as it means that she’ll keep kissing you like that, and bringing out those good kind of butterflies that flutter in your stomach whenever she’s close to you.

To your surprise, Ellie makes good on her promise at the earliest opportunity.

In your experience, life is full of making plans and dreams that, more often than not, fall through. Even here, even in Jackson, where the walls are fortified and everyone is protected, the act of planning future endeavours is a luxury.

Spring finally comes , for real this time, with its customary blend of warmer weather that makes everyone instinctively turn their faces towards the sun, tentatively brushing its heat against their skin. And then, in complete juxtaposition, rain that starts in a slight drizzle that quickly descends into a downpour that sends those who’d ventured outside to appreciate the sunlight running back inside, scrambling to find cover, while quietly grumbling that they wish it was summer already, if only so that they could be freed from this topsy-turvy weather.

Humans are funny like that, you suppose. Never fully able to live in the moment, always wishing for the next season the second spring reveals its more wild side. They forget that the scorching heat of summer will have them complaining and wishing for autumn to come faster in a few months.

Nonetheless, it’s early summer, and you find yourself riding astride Ellie’s mare, Hazel, whose step is light and carefree, tale gently swishing in the warm breeze as you make your way to a clearing with a lake, a few miles out from Jackson’s gates. You’ve taken up the rear position, head resting against your girlfriend's back, arms wrapped around her waist.

From her position, she can’t see the expression on your face, the way you worry. Your bottom lip is between your teeth until it starts to bleed, because quite honestly, you’re nervous. Your instinct is to hide your feelings from her, because it feels silly. “A tough girl like you all freaked out over a little water?” You can almost hear her snark in your head. Logically, you know she wouldn’t say that, not to you, at least. But you can’t help but wonder if she’d think it.

You also know, however, that the minute you’re off this horse and she turns to look at you, she’ll read right through any bullshit or lies you come up with in an instant. Ellie’s just that kind of person; able to read right through people without them even having to say a word. So, as the bird chatter accompanies the beat of Hazel’s hooves against the ground, you speak, softly, tentatively, half-wishing that she won’t hear, almost hoping that your words will be carried off in the slight breeze that ruffles the braid against your back, delicately freeing strands of your hair.

“You know, I’m actually kinda fucking scared to do this,” you figure if you’re going to admit this, it’s just best to rip the Band-Aid off.

She holds the reins one-handed as her other comes to squeeze your wrist gently.

“Can you tell me why?”

You sigh, feeling your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you rest your chin against her shoulder. She’s so warm and steady, confident and self-assured in a way that you couldn’t even attempt to replicate.

She senses your unease, moving her thumb beneath the thin material of your sweater, stroking against the skin of your inner wrist. She lets it rest at the point where she feels your pulse lightly fluttering beneath her.

“Hey.” Her voice is soft, encouraging, “Talk to me, Sweetheart, you’ve got absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Her thumb resumes its movement, stroking back-and-forth along the inside of your wrist, soothing away the knot that’s begun to tie itself in your stomach.

“It’s stupid, I know. It’s just, I’m scared that I’m gonna drown, or something dumb like that,” you roll your eyes, feeling a little bit pathetic.

“It’s not stupid,” you’re not surprised that she’s come to your defence so quickly, but the conviction in her voice gives you pause.

She continues, “I almost drowned, once. Well, I guess it wasn’t almost, I did drown, though I don’t remember the details. It was before Joel had taught me how to swim, probably what made him decide that he had to. But, when he did, it took me the longest time to get over my fear. Every time I so much as touched the water, my mind would bring me back to that moment where I thought I was about to die.”

Her voice is sheepish, nonchalant, but you scoot closer to her on the saddle nonetheless, wrapping your arms just a little tighter around her waist.

“My point is, if you would have seen me when I was fourteen, the way Joel would have to coax me into the water bit by bit, you wouldn’t believe I’m the same person now. Now, I can be assured that whenever I go into the water, nothing’s going to happen to me that I can’t handle.”

She takes your hand in hers, and her voice is completely serious when she speaks now.

“Baby, you know I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, right?”

In spite of your nerves, you know the answer to this question immediately. It’s not even a question, really, you know without even having to think about it that she’ll keep you safe, protect you with her life if necessary, and you nod aggressively, even before she finishes speaking.

“I know, Elles.”

She gives your hand a squeeze.

“Good, because if my 14-year-old freshly traumatized from actually drowning ass can learn how to swim, I am fully confident in your abilities.”

Hazel trots on, and for the first time since you headed out today, you feel a genuine smile pulling the corners of your lips upward, your laughter accompanying the birdsong as you ride on.

“That’s it, just lean back into me, I gotcha.”

She’s teaching you how to float on your back, first, and as you lean against her and lower yourself into the water, you swear you feel the peak of one of her nipples, hardened from the cold, poking through the flimsy material of her tank top, brushing against your back as you submerge yourself. You have to fight to keep your expression neutral, trying not to betray anything on your face. If she asks why you’re blushing, you’ll just say it’s because of the heat.

Her hand holds you up, pressing into the small of your back as she instructs you, and it’s nice, the heat that radiates from the warmth of her skin. You feel it through your tank top, and maybe it’s because the water is cold and it’s heightening all of your senses, or maybe it’s because you’re in a pair of underwear and a tank top, feeling very exposed to your girlfriend in a way that you’ve never been with anyone, but you’re getting goosebumps, and you know for a fact that it has nothing to do with you being cold.

You hope to yourself that the feeling of having her hands on you will get easier throughout the day, because for some inexplicable reason, the feeling of her hand pressing against you like this is making it hard to focus on what she’s actually saying.

You quickly discover that it does not get easier as the day goes on.

It actually gets so much fucking harder to bear as the sun begins to sail higher in the sky.

When she’s about to teach you how to kick, her hands ghost over your hips, making you jump.

“Sorry, hun, I should’ve asked,” she apologizes softly.

You can’t bring yourself to look at her, and have to temper your voice to not sound eager as you respond. “No, you’re good, go ahead, I'm just cold, that’s all.”

When her hands caress your sides before settling against your hips, your teeth sink into the inside of your cheek, trying to contain the gasp that wants to escape.

Is she truly that fucking unaware of what she’s doing to you?

The skin where her fingers had trailed over tingles, and you have to give your head a slight shake to clear it, because that touch, regardless of how innocently meant it might’ve been to her, suddenly makes you want to get on your knees and beg her to touch you like that again.

You want more.

You learn the mechanics of how to propel yourself through the water, arms and legs separately. When it comes time to put the two together, Ellie eases you onto your stomach. The water is still shallow, your toes can still touch the ground. This was as deep as you’d be going today, she had told you, making you feel relieved.

“I’m just gonna put a hand on your stomach to hold you up. You’re still gonna have my help, I’m right here,” you’re stomach muscles tense when her hand lightly presses against it. She must think you’re nervous, because she gently strokes her thumb up and down between your rib cage, in a way that should be reassuring, but in reality, makes heat radiate from between your legs. You’re grateful that she can’t see your face, because the small pool of wetness that blossoms against your panties is undeniable now, and it makes your cheeks heat.

Okay, so you have to admit it now. You’re horny. In spite of the fact that you’ve never had sex and you haven’t been ready to take that step before today, as you slowly move through the water, feeling her hand pressing against your stomach, so close but so, so far from where you want her to be, you know that you want her, in a way that you’ve never wanted anyone before.

“At a girl, just like that,” she says encouragingly, and you swear you can feel your thigh muscles clenching involuntarily, thoughts drifting to a very different scenario in which she’d utter those words.

It’s late afternoon, the sun is high in the sky, warming your shoulders as you stand in the water. You’ve long ago adjusted to its cool, murky depths, and you’re not on edge anymore.

At least you weren’t, until Ellie suggests that to finish off the day, you try moving a little bit on your own. Your eyebrows raise, in obvious alarm, and her hands settle on your shoulders, quick to reassure you.

“You won’t have to go far, I’ll be right in front of you, I promise, all you need to do is just keep coming towards me.”

You tilt your head, considering. Yes, you’ve grown accustomed to the water, but whenever you’ve been moving, she’s always had a hold on you, and you felt safe, knowing that there wasn’t even a chance that you would go under.

Seeing your still evident hesitation, Ellie steps closer, a hand grazing against your waist as she presses her lips to your forehead briefly, before she speaks, her voice low and teasing against your ear.

“Can you do it for me?” She says softly. Her fingers are tracing slow, enticing circles over your waist, soothing you, but making you feel all worked up at the same time.

She’s so close that you can feel her lips brush against your ear when she speaks, and you can’t hide the shiver that runs down your spine. You’ve lost the ability to form coherent thought, for the moment, and you have to mentally kick yourself to push your mind back into any semblance of reality. God, if she asks you like that, you’ll do anything.

You don’t say that, though. You only nod meekly, not trusting your voice to be controlled when you speak.

When her hand gives your hip an appreciative squeeze, you feel her breath ghost against the curve of your neck as she speaks. “Good girl,” she practically purrs, a quiet, low hum against your ear that makes your knees buckle so hard that you have to dig your feet into the sand beneath you so that you don’t faceplant into the water.

When she pulls back, taking slow, tentative steps away from you, she knows that you’re watching her every move. She can feel your eyes burning into her, the further she moves away, nerves making you fidget with the hem of your top. When she’s several metres away, she reaches out a hand, beckoning.

“Okay, c’mere, Baby Girl.”

Her voice is low, persuasive, encouraging you forward. But it still takes you a solid 30 seconds of anxiously staring at her before you actually begin to move. She stands, arms folded, patiently waiting for you to give in, because she knows that sooner or later, you will.

She’s not that far away, not really. She still would easily be able to reach her arms out, steadying you if somehow, even in this shallow water, you managed to bring yourself under. Still, when you kick back, and you no longer feel the assurance of the soft sand against your feet, or Ellie‘s arm wrapped securely around your stomach to hold you up, you freeze. She notices instantly, and her voice is quick to call you back, bringing your racing heart back down with a few, gentle words.

“Hey, eyes on me.”

You swim forward, it’s unsure and hesitant, but at least you’re moving. You can’t always keep your eyes on her, but when your head is lowered to the water, you can always hear her voice, which she uses to get you to keep going.

“That’s it, almost there.”

She eggs you on, making your limbs instinctively move faster, cutting through the water with an almost desperate urge to get to her. You’re reaching for her, arms ready to wrap around her waist when she meets you halfway, scooping you up into her arms.

“That’s my girl,” she whispers against your lips, cradling the back of your head as she pulls you in. Your eyes flutter shut, and you can’t help the small sigh that she elicits from you as she lowers her head to kiss you. Her lips meet yours in a slow, soft caress, searing as her touch sets your skin alight with heat. Instinctively, only half aware of what you’re doing, your legs wrap around her waist, desperately pulling yourself against her with a sudden need that is too strong to be contained.

When her hand, tangled in your hair, gently pulls, forcing your head back as she deepens the kiss, your mouth falling open as her tongue teases past your lips, you are unable to hold back the little moan that escapes you, scalp tingling at the sensation of her fingers, curled against strands of your wet hair, holding tight, keeping you exactly where she wants you.

She’s so close, you realize. Your legs wrapped around her like this, your heat pressed so near to hers. It’s enough to send your thoughts reeling. Every nerve ending in your body is alive with want and need.

Her hand makes a slow path, warm, delicate fingers journeying from your waist all the way up to the peak of your breast, leaving a trail of goosebumps to form in their wake. Her hand rests against you, leaving you warm and wanting, and just when you think that you can’t handle any more, she moves her thumb in a slow, deliberate caress over your perked, hardened nipple, which, at this point, your tank top, with its thin, soaked through material that clings to your every curve, leaves little up to her imagination. She can see you, she can see all of you. Your breath shutters, the smallest sound of want, of need, of desperation escaping your throat in a choked, pleading moan that has your back arching.

And that’s when Hazel makes her displeasure and boredom known, letting out a loud, displeased nay of indignation as she stamps her hooves against the ground.

The noise is so sudden, so out of the blue, disrupting the sounds of the water gently lapping around you, and the ambiance of nature that you’ve grown quite accustomed to hearing over the past few hours, that it makes you both jump. You startle so hard that you nearly fall into the waters below, jolting back as your head whips around to discover the source of the noise. Ellie’s arms are secure, though, you feel her adjusting her hold on you, wrapping them around you tighter. She too frantically searches the area around you for signs of trouble.

When you realize that you’re in no imminent danger, and that it’s just Hazel being her typical, dramatic self, you both look at each other, and simultaneously, slow smiles creep across your faces. She can feel you begin to shake with laughter. All the adrenaline leaves your body in a relieved, sudden rush that escapes with the quiet, barely contained snort that you desperately try to hold back. After that, it’s over. Ellie’s face buries against your hair as you both begin to laugh uncontrollably.

You feel her breathy, relieved sigh ruffle your hair. “We should probably go see what her problem is – knowing Hazel, a mosquito probably landed on her and she freaked the fuck out. God, that horse is such a drama queen.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s an underlying affection that she can’t keep out of her voice, even if she tries.

“Probably saw us kissing and was offended. Maybe she’s homophobic,” you quip, chuckling.

Ellie gasps in mock horror. “I practically raised that horse, there’s no fucking way,” you both laugh as she begins to move towards the shore, you cradled against her with your head on her shoulder.

Riding back to Jackson when you’re extremely sexually worked up, it turns out, is no fun.

Your girlfriend, as much as you love her, is doing nothing to help the situation.

In general, Ellie prefers to ride horses that are the most chaotic, and that carry attitudes that make them almost borderline untrainable. She says it’s because she can empathize with them, she listens to them in a way that no one else does.

You think, privately, that it’s because it scares the shit out of Joel. He lives in constant fear that Hazel is going to throw Ellie off, sending his already accident prone daughter home with a broken leg and a concussion. You swear, Ellie enjoys getting a rise out of him, making his heart race with all of the reckless shit that she does.

Hazel has been sitting still for too long, and is now thoroughly enjoying the freedom of being able to trot about; she tries to take advantage of it regardless of the cargo on her back, making for a bumpy ride.

You’re riding in front, this time, and every time you hit an unavoidable bump, Ellie rests her hands on your hips. She claims that she’s doing it to keep you steady, make sure that you don’t fall off the horse. but, you know better. You know an ulterior motive when you see one. The way that her hands linger, fingers slowly teasing At the edge of your still damp top, drawing slow, light circles against the exposed skin she finds beneath, suggesting that she has other plans in mind. It makes you shiver.

“You cold, baby?” Her voice is low against your ear, the unexpected proximity making you jump. She cannot be serious. Even though it’s late afternoon, evening fast approaching, the day is still scorching, hence why you’ve opted out of wearing your sweater on the way back. You didn’t even want to put on shorts over your damp underwear, but alas, you still had some shred of modesty left, not wanting to make whoever was stationed to guard Jackson’s gates uncomfortable.

When her arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against her, you swear that you can feel her hips slowly moving as she grinds against you suggestively. Her lips brush against the bare skin of your shoulder, lingering as her warm breath ghosts against your skin, caressing against your neck with its heat. You can’t hold back your gasp at the feeling.

One of her hands travels down, settling against your knee with a gentle squeeze.

“How’s that, Baby Girl, is that better?”

God!

If she doesn’t fuck you soon, you swear you’re gonna kill her. Or, at this rate, she’s gonna kill you first with the way she’s sending your heart racing like that.

If you had thought that getting home, changing into a fresh pair of clothes, and giving yourself the chance to calm your racing heart would magically put an end to whatever was stirring up inside of you, you were sadly incorrect in your assumptions.

You’re sitting on the couch in your living room, wearing a sundress that falls to your knees because it’s light and you enjoy the slight breeze that it creates when you move. It flutters around your legs gently in the humid air. It might provide next to no relief at all, but it’s still better than nothing.

Ellie sits across from you in an armchair. Without even looking, you can feel her staring at you, eyes burning into you with a restrained and tempered want. You suspect that she’s holding it back, now wondering if she’s crossed a boundary today and made you uncomfortable.

That couldn’t be further from the truth, but Ellie is the type of person who acts on impulse, then completely over analyzes and over thinks her actions later, until she’s convinced herself that she’s fucked something up. She’s so bold, so confident in the things she does in the moment. But, in the end, she’s still someone who sometimes needs you to explicitly communicate and validate what she does after the fact. Regardless of how her confidence is so vast, and can sometimes be mistaken for being cocky, on the inside, she’s deeply insecure and needs reassurance.

Glancing up at her through your lashes, seeing the way that she twists and fidgets with the hair elastic on her wrist, the slight frown on her face, the almost guilty way her eyes flit away from you when she sees you looking, you know that she needs that right now, and you fully intend to not just give that to her, but encourage her forward.

Setting down the book that you weren’t actually reading, just trying to distract yourself with and completely failing, you rise to your feet, and as you move to her, she looks up at you with a smile, slipping back into its place effortlessly.

“Hey, baby, what’s up?”

Her voice is low and soft, and the way her eyes skim over you, pausing at where your dress falls, the hem barely skimming your knees, makes heat flush at the back of your neck.

“Want somethin’.”

You admit, crawling into her lap, bracing your hands on her shoulders.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

She quirks a brow, and the way her eyes smoulder as she looks at you makes you nervous, stomach fluttering with anxious butterflies as she looks intently at you.

You’ve got her full attention, and now that you do, you don’t know what to do with it. You were fully ready to take the lead on this, but at the end of the day, you’re still shy and inexperienced, and she’s everything that you’re not. To be honest, it’s intimidating, knowing her wealth of experience that you couldn’t even attempt to match.

The insistent butterflies take flight in your stomach; you decide that the only way forward is by pure instinct, and the blind hope that you won’t embarrass yourself too much.

You lean forward slowly, hesitating slightly until, with understanding, Ellie’s hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, encouraging you the rest of the way forward until your lips meet hers, and suddenly, you forget exactly what your plan originally was, if you even really had one in the first place. It easily slips out of your mind as you melt against her, effortlessly letting her take the lead.

Her fingers brush against your lower back, holding you securely against her. This isn’t like your usual, every day kiss, one that starts off slow and gentle. Her lips are insistent, pressing against yours with a desperate, persistent need. Her fingers absently brush against your scalp, running through your hair before cupping the back of your neck, the pressure just firm enough.

All you know is her. Her lips, claiming your mouth with a possessiveness that makes you ache for her inside. Her tongue, swiping over your lips, making you gasp slightly. As your lips part for her, you hear the low, satisfied sound she breathes against you as her tongue pushes past your lips, exploring your mouth with a hunger that you’ve never sensed in her before.

Her thigh pushes between your legs, parting them with ease and settling between them, grazing against your clothed heat. When her hand schemes down your lower back, caressing over your ass, before pressing against it with a firm squeeze, you can’t resist the way your hips buck against her, desperately chasing the friction, unable to hold back the small whimper when you’re clit presses against the rough denim of her cut-offs.

The sound seems to startle you so much that you still your movements, eyes going wide as Ellie pulls back to look at you. She doesn’t even bother holding back the smirk that overtakes her features.

“Oh, so that’s what you want.”

Her green eyes darken with want, voice low and gravelly with desire as she studies you, perched on her lap with a needy expression behind your innocent eyes. Her fingers brush against your hips, teasing over your skin.

Heat flushes against your collarbone, spreading to warm your cheeks as you try to look down, wanting to escape the scrutiny of her piercing gaze. She anticipates your movement, and stops you with a hand coming to curl beneath your chin, making a soft noise of disapproval.

“Look at me, pretty girl, and tell me what you want,”

Her voice is still soft, still gentle, but there’s a warning edge that’s crept into it, an effortless authority, that sends a jolt straight through you, making your already throbbing clit pulse with anticipation. Her fingers nudge your chin upwards, holding firmly as she directs your eyes to meet hers, smouldering with uncontained lust as she watches you.

“You.”

Your answer comes out in barely a breath, barely a whisper.

“I want you.”

You feel like your response sounds ridiculous.

It sounds small.

It sounds completely inadequate.

And yet, when Ellie’s hand snakes beneath your dress, fingers toying with the waistband of your panties, her lips brushing against your ear as she says low, “that, sweet girl, I would be happy to oblige.”

She flexes her thigh up against your heat, rubbing over your swollen clit, making you cry out in surprise.

Her shirt hits the floor with a dull thump, pulled off by your eager and curious hands. You want to see her. You want to touch her. You want...

But now that it’s off and she’s looking down at you like that, your brain catches up to your body. What are you doing? What are you supposed to do? You don’t know how to do this. You don’t know where to put your hands, and the idea of fumbling around and embarrassing yourself is enough to make you nervous.

She sees the moment you begin to question yourself and overthink it, in the way that you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, the way your hand flexes, curling into itself with anxiety.

“Hey,” she says softly, waiting for your eyes to meet hers. Her hands caress up and down the sides of your arms, pulling you from the spiral that your mind was going in, bringing you back to earth with a soothing touch.

“I know that this is your first time, and I just want you to know that I don’t expect anything of you tonight. The only thing I want is to make you feel good. So just, let me do that, okay?”

When she leans in, arms wrapping around you, and her lips press against your neck in a slow, seductive kiss, she can feel the shiver that runs down your spine, and she makes a note to remember that you’re sensitive there.

You feel her lips close to your ear as she speaks.

“Just let me take care of my girl tonight.”

Her hand schemes down your side, fingers drawing teasing circles over your hip. Your eyes close and your breath comes in a sharp, unsteady inhale and all you can do is look at her, eyes hooded, and say in a shaky voice, “please.”

You feel her low chuckle against your neck.

“Such pretty manners,” she hums against your skin, before you feel the gentle graze of teeth join her lips, delivering a small, sharp sting that you imagine will leave a mark.

This thought doesn’t scare you in the way that you thought it would. Your first thought isn’t of how on earth you’re going to cover this up tomorrow. The idea that there will be physical evidence of her, of what she’s doing to you, that there will be a reminder of it in the morning turns you on, sending a thrill through you.

Her tongue replaces where her teeth had just been, gently soothing over the sting. “Good girl,” she breathes, hand coming up to fiddle with the spaghetti strap of your dress. “I want this off,”

She waits for you to nod your consent, and then she’s sliding the straps off your shoulders, letting it fall. It pools around your waist in a soft brush of its material.

Fingers brush over your stomach, and you shiver with anticipation, already knowing the path they intend to travel over your skin. Her hands graze over your ribs, before she curls them around the curves of your breasts. She looks down at them, cradled in her hands, and her lips curl upward.

Warm, experienced hands massage and knead your breasts, gentle caresses and squeezes encouraging, coaxing your nipples to harden beneath her touch. Her thumb brushes over one of the hardening buds, and you gasp at even the slightest attention. She seems to relish in drawing sounds from you, her index finger joining her thumb, as she rolls your perked nipple between her fingers, adding the slightest pinch.

“You’re so fuckin pretty, you know that? The site of these,” she tweaks your other nipple, making your breath stutter, “peeking through your shirt at the lake was teasing me all day.”

Her face buries against your neck, she becomes rougher, more insistent. Still slow and attentive, but there’s a possessive edge to it as she leaves a trail of marks down your throat, your collarbone.

You love every second of getting to see this new side of Ellie, one that you haven’t seen before. The way that she’s intently listening to your body, finding out exactly how to touch you in a way that brings out those little gasps and mules that are like music to her ears, you want to see this side of her more often.

She’s enjoying the sight of her marks on you just as much as you are; a thrill runs through her, knowing that everyone will see that you belong to her.

She pauses toying with your nipple as her hand falls to your thigh, letting her breath graze against your skin, before she leans in, lips encircling the pebbled bud with a gentle suck. You whimper as her teeth barely graze your skin, tongue swirling over the small bud teasingly. She makes an appreciative sound against you while her fingers brush the bare skin of your inner thigh.

Her thumb teases over the seam of your panties, and you swear that you can feel her lips pull into a smirk as she feels the evident wetness pooling there. When she grazes a knuckle over your clothed clit, using a featherlight touch, your hips instinctively buck, you’re so worked up.

“Ellie,” your cheeks flush at the way that she’s got you whining for her with just one touch to wear you’ve been craving her to be. “Please, I, I need you to touch me there.”

“Aww, you’re so pretty when you beg for me,” she coos, two fingers caressing over your heat.

Your head falls back, eyes closing as you try to suppress the whimper that fights to escape at her teasing.

“Ellie, please,” and if you weren’t trying to beg before, you definitely are now.

She tilts her head, a slightly pleased expression crossing her kiss swollen lips as she looks at you, thoroughly unravelled before she’s even fully gotten you undressed.

“That’s all you had to say, Princess.”

Her voice is low and smooth, calm and effortless, in complete juxtaposition to her next actions, because suddenly, your dress is being yanked the rest of the way down, Ellie tossing it to the floor in a careless heap. She lifts you with ease, flipping you around so that your back is pressed against her bare chest. Her arms curl around you, holding you close to her, fingers trailing down your stomach, scheming over the waistband of your panties. One finger hooks under, and she pauses, voice suddenly soft.

“Can I take these off, baby girl?” Her finger strokes along the bare skin that she’s found beneath your panties, just above your mound, inviting, but not moving lower.

“Ellie,” you say with growing desperation. She’s teased you all day, and you can’t take much more of it. You’ve reached the end of your rope, and you can tell, without even having to look at her, that she’s fully aware of it, she’s just enjoying teasing you a little longer, dragging out the moment for even just a few seconds more. She’s so close to where you need her, but not close enough, and you need her to bridge the distance. “You can do whatever you want,” your head falls back against her shoulder, auburn hair tickling against your face as she leans down to whisper.

“Don’t give me any ideas, princess. You might regret it.”

Her words make you shutter, but, nonetheless, she pulls, and in a matter of seconds, she’s sending your panties to join your dress on the floor, with a practiced flick of her wrist.

She doesn’t waste much time now; her hands gently part your thighs.

“Spread your legs for me, Pretty Girl, I want to see all of you.”

She coaxes, not that you need much urging. You feel her legs cage over yours, wrapping around them, holding them open for her. Fingers ghost over your curls, dipping between your lips. She collects your wetness, fingers gliding effortlessly up to your clit, coating it in your own arousal.

“Barely touched you, and you’re already soaked for me,” two fingers press against your swollen clit, drawing slow, easy circles over your heat, already making your walls clench around nothing.

Her other hand moves, pausing to give an affectionate pinch to one of your perked breasts, making you gasp in surprise, your hips instinctively jolting forward, pushing against the hand that continues to massage, tease, and press against your clit. It continues its path downward, caressing over your hip, your inner thigh.

Long, tapered fingers dip between your folds, tentatively swirling around your entrance, gathering the wetness that’s collected there. You don’t realize you’re begging until, achingly slowly, one of her fingers brushes over your tight, glistening hole. She doesn’t push it forward, only curling it slightly to pet at your entrance.

“F-fuck, please,” your head falls back against her shoulder, and your hips push forward, trying to take her inside, but to no avail.

“Such a needy girl,” she murmurs, smirking at the way that you nod.

She’s got you so desperate that you’ll agree to anything she says; you won’t even try to deny it. It would be pointless, anyways. All she has to do is look down and see the way that your hips are bucking against her to know that you would be lying through your teeth. Nonetheless, she gently eases a finger inside you and you let out a long, tremulous breath as she pushes her finger, easing it all the way inside until she’s down to her knuckle.

She’s watching carefully for your reactions and she can feel how tight you are around her; she doesn’t want to cause you any pain. But when she tentatively, curiously, crooks her finger slightly upward, searching, a jolt runs through you, your body trembling and hips jerking forward, chasing the contact. It’s too much, and it’s not enough, and you need more.

“Fuck, I, Ellie, I I want,” your hands grip onto her thighs tightly.

She presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck before whispering,“That’s it, baby, use your words. Tell me what you need,” her finger pumps in and out at an unhurried, languid pace, barely grazing over that spot that you so desperately need her to touch.

“Need more of you inside me,” you whimper, unable to keep the desperate edge from creeping into your voice. A second finger joins the first, slowly pushing through your entrance. You immediately feel the stretch, unfamiliar to having someone else’s fingers there, but you’re quickly distracted, because as soon as both fingers are pushing into you, she increases the pressure against your throbbing clit, fingers drawing rough, tight circles over your swollen bud.

The sound you make is high and uncontained.

Calloused fingers brush against your inner walls, clenching around them as Ellie stretches you out. Her fingers curl, a slight beckoning motion as she easily finds that spot inside of you. The pads of her fingers press firmly against it, fingers insistently petting at your center with small, precise strokes against your sweet spot. She's hitting that spot in a way that you’ve never been able to accomplish on your own.

You’re seeing stars, because she’s everywhere you want and need her to be, and now, the only thing you can do is grind your hips down against her fingers that are so effortlessly toying with you.

It comes out of nowhere, the coil that eagerly begins to tighten in your stomach. Your toes curl with anticipation, and your hands are gripping onto her so tightly. You’re pretty sure that you’re the one who’s going to be leaving bruises now. Her fingers continue to thrust in and out of your weeping cunt, and maintain the relentless pressure against your clit.

Ellie’s chin rests against your shoulder, watching attentively, and if you could see her, you’d see how utterly enthralled she is at how much of a mess she’s made you, eyes heavy as she watches her fingers plunge in and out of your cunt. Her voice is low against your ear, rough, commanding when she speaks.

“That’s it, Baby Girl, I want you to fuck yourself on my fingers and cum for me.”

You’ve always experienced orgasms as a gradual build, a wave, gently cresting against the shore. So, the way the coil in your stomach abruptly snaps, almost an instant after Ellie finishes speaking, has you taken completely by surprise. She’s attached her lips back onto your neck, sucking a mark just against your pulse point, which she feels fluttering rapidly beneath her tongue.

There’s the stuttering of hips accompanied by a sharp cry and Ellie feels your walls tighten around her fingers, unceasing in her ministrations even as your orgasm barrels through you.

“Good girl, fucking give it to me,” she nearly growls, as her fingers continue to fuck you through your orgasm. All you can do is whimper uselessly, rocking your hips against her hand, as thrills ignite every inch of your body, making you tremble all over.

When you come down from your high, you’re collapsed against her chest, and she’s slowly easing off the pressure.

The first thing you notice is that you don’t feel the same as you usually would if you had just done this by yourself. For some reason, you thought that you were a one and done kind of girl. Usually you orgasm once, and then you take a nap, feeling for the most part satisfied. But as her fingers slide out of you, leaving you feeling empty, all you can think is that you want more.

Then, Ellie’s holding up her glistening fingers, slick with your arousal, in front of her face. You turn to watch her, curious, as she slides them into her mouth, licking them clean. She hums, and you raise a brow questioningly as she looks down at you, her eyes bearing an expression that is almost predatory in its intensity.

“What?” you ask, already feeling goosebumps rising along your skin.

“Nothing,” she shrugs, shaking her head slightly. “It’s just, now that I’ve had a taste of you, I want more.” You turn fully to face her, lips curving into a smirk. Your hand trails over her breasts, and she looks at you with interest.

“Please,” you’re still breathless, and your voice is still unsteady.

“I want you too.”

“Atta girl, just like that.”

Admittedly, as much as you’ve had countless fantasies involving sitting on Ellie’s face, the prospect of actually doing it, as much as you want to, gives you pause. She’s carried you up to the bed, at some point along the way, the rest of her clothes came off, you’ll probably find them scattered along the hallway later. But that doesn’t matter right now.

What matters is that you’re hovering over her face, looking down at her while trying not to look nervous and out of your comfort zone, which you totally are, and she obviously isn’t buying it. Gentle hands reach for you, holding your hips and pulling you against her easily.

“All the way down, Honey, that’s it,” she coaxes, easing you down onto her. “You’re good, you’re not gonna kill me,” her hand caresses up and down your side, soothing, even as you feel her warm breath ghosting over your heat, making your cheeks flush, as you look down at how close she is to you.

“I gotcha’, Pretty Girl, just relax,” her voice is smooth, assured, confident, in a way that makes your muscles relax in spite of yourself.

That’s when you feel her tongue, warm and wet, brushing through your folds. The sensation is so new, so unfamiliar to you, that for a second, you freeze, your breath catching in your throat.

Then, her tongue flattens, pressing over your clit and applying a slight pressure that has you arching against her. Her tongue curls over your swollen nub, gently drawing it towards her lips, an almost imperceptible pulling motion that has your hands scrambling for something to hold onto, finding a grip against the headboard of the bed.

She makes a contented hum as her lips wrap around your center, the sound vibrating against you making your hips jolt. Her hands curl around the undersides of your thighs, holding you in place. Your hands hold onto the headboard of the bed for dear life, feeling like it’s the only solid thing that you have to hold onto, keeping you from toppling over the edge and out of control.

You’ve never felt like this before. Each swipe of her tongue over your heat, the gentle pulse of her lips as she sucks, enveloping you in her warm, wet mouth, brings a new sensation thrumming through your veins, almost akin to fire as it shoots through you, pleasure licking over every inch of your skin like flames. It’s overwhelming, in such a way that you don’t know what to do with it, how to express it.

All you can do, at this point, is roll your hips against her mouth, hold onto the headboard, and let small, desperate whimpers escape your lips. You’re trying to hold onto some semblance of containing yourself, because you don’t know what would happen if you let yourself unravel completely. You’re terrified of what Ellie might see if you fell apart like that.

She seems to be doing everything she can to break away at your composure though. Her tongue is alternating between dragging slow, tender circles over your clit, and firm, quick strokes, that has your head falling against your hands, braced against the headboard. She flicks her tongue against you, her lips surrounding your clit in a particularly firm suck, and before you know it, you’re spilling over the edge, eyes shut tightly, and breath releasing in a long, shuttering moan that seems to run from the top of your head to the tips of your tightly curled toes, her tongue continuing to caress you over your peak.

She moans into you, and it all becomes too much. Your head is thrown back and your hands are reaching down, tangling in her hair, to push her away or pull her closer; it’s unclear in your fuzzy mind. All the while, her insistent tongue continues to swirl over your increasingly oversensitive bundle of nerves, the relentless and inescapable pleasure making you shiver all over, while a light sweat breaks out on your bare skin.

You only drift back into yourself when you become aware of a shift. It’s so fast, you barely have time to even blink, before Ellie manoeuvres you, flipping you onto your back and roughly parting your thighs with her hands. Her fingers run through your glistening folds, calloused thumb pressing against your aching, overstimulated clit. The sensation has you gasping, crying out, and trying to close your legs, buck your hips, move away.

Frantically, you try to jam your legs shut, trying to escape her mercilessly teasing fingers. Rough hands force your thighs apart, putting you on display for her as she holds you open.

“Uh uh, not this time, Baby,” she tuts disapprovingly. “No more holding back on me, Sweet Girl,” listening to the low, dominant tone of her voice is like a drug to you, and your eyes roll back into your head as she speaks.

“I want everyone to know how good I fuck this pretty little pussy.” Two fingers circle your clit and you jolt, trying to move away. But a strong arm pushes your hips down, pinning you against the bed easily.

Faster than you can process, her fingers retreat, and you don’t even have time to feel relieved, because a split second later, her hand comes down against your cunt with a smack, delivering a stinging, rough spank that has you crying out, clit throbbing and pulsing with the agonizingly delicious mix of pain and pleasure.

“Now, you’re gonna be a good girl, and you’re gonna take everything I give you.”

Two fingers notch at your entrance, but she waits, looking at you, a silent question, an invitation for you to tell her that this is too much and that you need to stop. You know she would in a heartbeat if you told her that this was too much or too rough for you right now, and that’s what makes you feel safe enough to continue.

So, when you respond by attempting to push your hips forward against her, a soft whimper falling from your lips, she smirks, and with the slightest movement of her wrist, her fingers thrust into you. Seconds later, her face is buried in between your legs, tongue gently lapping at your sensitive clit. After two orgasms, you’re hyper aware of every movement; every swirl of her tongue is sweet, hot agony that undoes you in seconds.

At the same moment her lips take your clit into her mouth, holding it as her tongue swipes a tight, rough circle over your heat, her fingers curl, and she finds that spot inside you that makes your legs begin to shake, pressing against it with each punishing thrust of her fingers.

Your moans are loud, unrestrained, sounds that you would be embarrassed to make if you were in any way capable of controlling them. But you’re not, because your mind is only filled with her, her and her tongue on your clit, and her strong fingers pumping in and out of your wet cunt, playing with you as easily and as effortlessly as she plays the guitar.

She’s clearly enjoying the sounds that fall from your lips, every beg and plea and moan of her name making her feel quite smug that she’s undone you so easily…she encourages you to continue, making a contented hum against your clit. She only looks up long enough to say:

“That’s it, I want to hear you being such a dirty little girl for me.”

A third finger slowly, carefully, pushes in; the stretch makes you feel so full, so good, it nearly takes your breath away. Her fingers thrust in and out slowly, testing the waters, wanting to make sure that you’ve adjusted – but you are having absolutely none of it.

Your head is thrown back and your hips are thrusting forward, or trying to, but her arm is so fucking strong that she doesn’t even have to try that hard to keep you pinned against the mattress, exactly where she wants you to be. You don’t even realize you’re begging until you see her smirking up at you.

“Please, Ellie, please, fuck, I-I want,” it’s a challenge to even string coherent words together, but you’re distracted by her face, now looking up at you as her thumb takes over, stroking against your clit.

“Come on, Baby girl, tell me what you want,” she presses her thumb a little harder into you, making you gasp brokenly.

You take a breath to steady yourself, and your words still come out stuttered, but you say them, blushing in a way that she finds absolutely endearing considering you’re already spread out on her bed with three of her fingers buried inside of you.

“I-I want it harder,” you admit, your cheeks burning. “Want you to fuck me.”

“You’re so fuckin pretty when you use your words like that, Baby,” she praises. “Such a good fuckin girl,” then, her fingers are thrusting in and out, setting a rough pace, hitting that spot in a way that feels so much stronger than it already was.

When she lowers her head, tongue dipping between your folds, returning to feast at your clit rough, persistent swirls and flicks over your swollen center, any slight ability to contain yourself is lost. You’re not aware of the sounds that you’re making, or the way that your hands scramble to find a hold on something, anything solid, eventually coming to clutch the soft bed sheets, holding them tightly in between your fingers.

You’re only aware that your orgasm is approaching, and that Ellie, little by little, is nudging you towards a peak that once you make it over, you think might absolutely wreck you, in the best possible way. All you know is that you want this, you want her. You need her.

God.

You really fucking need her.

She feels your walls beginning to flutter around her, her free hand shifts down, coming to grip your thigh, opening you even wider for her.

“Come on, baby, wanna hear all those pretty sounds you make for me when you cum.”

She says against you, adjusting her wrist to fuck you with her fingers deeper. The new angle has you keening, hips desperately thrusting to chase the friction of whatever new spot she’s hitting.

Her tongue flattening against you as she draws firm, tight circles over your bundle of nerves, The way that your back is arching, hips uselessly trying to grind down against her and her relentless fingers, fucking into your weeping cunt mercilessly. She’s guiding you exactly to where she wants you to go, straight up towards that peak. Your vision blurs.

“Fucking give it to me, Pretty Girl, want you to cum for me, all over my fingers and my mouth.”

Your back arches off the bed, and suddenly, all you know is wave after wave of ecstasy that crashes through your body, electric shocks that pulse through you, making you jolt and flail uselessly combined with the rhythmic pumping of her fingers, and the dipping and swirling of her tongue against you.

She works you through your orgasm, never slowing the movements of her tongue or her fingers that continue to drag in and out of you, sustaining your pleasure for as long as she can possibly hold it. Her lips wrap around your clit, as her tongue swipes through your folds, collecting all the wetness that she can find. She hums against you, encouraging your loud moans, and by the time it’s over, you’re a shaking, completely fucked out mess on her bed,

If you happened to see the expression on her face as she watches you writhing beneath her, your hands twisting the sheets into knots and broken, unrestrained whimpers fall from your lips, she’s taking in the sight with immense appreciation, as if you’re the work of art she’s just created.

Turns out, the only thing that you have the ability to do post-three orgasms is roll over onto your stomach, shaking and trembling, and try, desperately, to regain your breath.

Ellie, for her part, crawls up the bed beside you, hand coming up to tenderly stroke back the hair that sticks to your forehead, before gently rubbing your back.

“Easy, baby, that’s it, just breathe for me.”

You’re eventually able to regain your breath, but your body feels floppy and light, and you can’t even begin to comprehend the slightest of movements. Ellie tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, saying softly, “I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna get something to clean you up, okay?”

You nod in slight acknowledgement of her words, but your mind is still fuzzy, and the only thing that you’re really aware of right now is the sudden sleepiness that comes over you in a soft, comforting wave. You feel her stroke your hair once more before she rises from the bed, briefly pausing to look at how fucked out you are, stretched out across her bed, bare skin glistening with sweat that makes your hair stick to your forehead, eyes heavy and cheeks flushed.

“So pretty,” she breathes, before exiting.

She isn’t gone long, and when she returns your eyes are closed, head buried against a pillow. She kneels between your legs, hand reaching out to gently rub your back as you turn your head to look at her.

“Just need to clean you up, pretty,” she whispers, and you realize how sticky you are in between your legs.

“Okay,” you mumble, your voice sounding slightly hoarse, similar to the way it does when you first wake up in the morning. Were you really moaning that much?

You feel a warm, damp washcloth brushing against your inner thigh. It’s nice, soothing, but as Ellie moves towards the place in between your legs, you instinctively flinch, overstimulated and slightly sore.

A large hand splays out over your back gently. “I know, Honey, it’s okay, I've got you,” Ellie soothes.

She runs the cloth over your folds. “There we go, sweet girl, almost done.” Its brush against your clit makes you cry out, leg kicking out instinctively. Ellie shushes you gently, pressing chased, featherlight kisses against your spine, the curve of your hip, effectively distracting you while she finishes cleaning you up.

When she’s done, she throws the cloth to the side, coming to sit beside you. “Okay, Baby, I just need you to get up and go for a quick pee.” You turn your head to look at her in bewilderment, staring up at her with your eyebrows raised.

“Why?” You ask, confused. She chuckles softly at your expression.

“Because, nowadays there isn’t much to protect ourselves from any infections that we could pick up while doing this,” she gestures vaguely. “And this is the one thing that we can do to at least try to help prevent something from coming up,”

“Buuut Elliee, I don’t wanna get up,” you grumble, burying your face back into the pillow.

She sighs softly, “come on, it’ll be fast, and then we can get back into bed and cuddle for as long as you want.”

That idea is tempting, but she could just get into bed with you right now and cuddle. Plus, you want to know who gave her this information, because it sounds pretty fucking stupid to you.

“I don’t want to,” you grumble.

Ellie playfully hits you with a pillow. “Come on, Lazy Ass,” she’s guiding you to sit up now, in spite of how much you’re resisting, because the bed is so warm and soft.

“Besides,” she reasons, “we both go out on patrol in three days, and I am not dealing with you having to dismount your horse every five minutes because you got a urinary tract infection and now you need to pee every time we hit a bump on the path.”

You dramatically sigh in defeat. “Okay, okay, I get it, Jesus Christ,” you roll your eyes in mock exasperation, but the smile pulling at your lips betrays your true feelings. “On one condition,” you say, folding your arms across your chest.

“What?” Ellie is fighting to restrain a smile, because you’re just too goddamn cute when you’re like this.

“You have to carry me there and back,” you say, reaching your arms up like a child who wants to be picked up.

She sighs, feigning annoyance, but she’s already positioning an arm beneath your knees. “You’re such a fucking brat,” she mutters against your hair as she cradles you against her chest.

You snuggle into her, smile growing wide as she moves towards the door, holding you in her arms. “Don’t lie, you love it.”

“Shut up ,” she says, hand sneaking around to give your ass an affectionate squeeze, making you gasp and giggle in surprise, instinctively kicking, nearly falling out of her arms in the process. But her hold is secure, arms tightening around you as your cheek presses against her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, babe, I got you.”

After gently setting you back in bed, once you’ve finally gone to the bathroom, grumbling the whole way there and back, Ellie went to get you a glass of water. She’s been gone for less than 30 seconds, and you already miss the feeling of her body, Strong and warm and steady, pressed against you. While she’s gone though, you entertain yourself by letting your eyes roam over your body, finding the evidence of her, left behind on your skin. You discover each new mark, each trace of her presence imprinted on you with the anticipation and joy of a child finding Easter eggs.

Your hand runs over your inner thigh, Lips pulling into a smile as you take in the sight of the finger shaped bruises that she left from where she gripped onto you so tightly. The site makes a warm, tingling feeling settle in your stomach.

You don’t hear her approach from behind you, and she must not see the expression on your face.

“Did I hurt you? Was it, was it too much?”

You turn, eyebrows raised and already shaking your head with vehemence, to find her watching you, biting her lip, concerned frown on her face.

“What, no, no, Ells, it’s just,” you avert your eyes, the blush creeping onto your face is mortifying, and in spite of everything you too just did, and how you had expected talking about things like this would be easier now, it’s still hard to admit it out loud.

She catches your chin in her hand, gently redirecting your eyes back up to meet hers. Seeing her so close to you, you don’t have to look hard to see the anxieties, trying to be contained and hidden, but dancing behind her eyes nonetheless.

You feel your heart clench. She’s opened up to you about her past on a few occasions, but when she has, it was easy to sense how fearful she was of her own inclinations towards violence, regardless of how necessary and imperative it might have been for her survival. She’s like a fire, impulsive and easy to set off, her flames all-consuming without a second thought. But after, even now, even when all this is small bruises marking your skin in the heated passion of lust, that will fade and be gone within a few days, she’ll still twist herself into knots, thinking and overthinking until she’s convinced herself that she’s ruined you.

“Please, Babe, tell me the truth,” her voice is soft, barely a whisper, but you hate the way that there’s a slight tremble in it, so uncharacteristic of Ellie. It breaks what’s left of your embarrassment, and the words fall from your lips without hesitation now.

“It wasn’t too much. It’s just, I-I liked it...the marks... I think it’s kind of hot.”

You wonder, in the back of your mind, if she can feel the way your cheek heats beneath her hand, resting against it ever so lightly. Her breath comes out in a soft, surprised laugh, and you’re relieved to see the concerned edges fade from her expression, a smirk instead overtaking her lips. “

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she whispers, fingers coming to trace over the scattered marks, littered across your neck and collarbone.

“You’re cold,” she observes, hands running up and down your arms, goosebumps beginning to form there. You hadn’t even noticed that you had begun to shiver.

When she crawls into bed behind you, wrapping her arms around you, Holding you against her, her warmth settles into your bones, running through you like melted chocolate. She brings the glass of water to your lips, insisting that you drink, and refusing to back down, in spite of your protests that you’ll need to get up to go pee in the middle of the night and does she realize how annoying that is?

She does, but she still coaxes you to drink half the glass.

You hold the glass up to her, pouting slightly. “Now you drink some, I feel like you should, too, because you were doing a lot of work, you know, with your mouth,” you say suggestively.

“Oh my God, shut up,” she groans. She gives you a playful shove that nearly makes the glass tumble from your hand. But she has quick reflexes, and her hand is steady against yours as she gently grabs your wrist, preventing the spill.

“Careful, Hun,” she cautions, plucking the glass out of your hand easily. “If only to appease you,” she sighs dramatically, before tipping it back and draining the glass.

The inevitable crash that you hadn’t, but probably should’ve, anticipated hits you all at once. It starts with a sigh that quickly turns into a yawn that seems to take all of your energy with it. You move to shrug your shoulders, brush it off like it’s nothing, because honestly, it’s only just starting to get dark outside, you can’t go to sleep right now, it’s just too early.

Your bones feel oddly heavy, sore in a way that shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. Adrenaline, and passion have temporarily blinded you to trivial things, like being a human and having a body that can get physically exhausted, especially after trying so many new things at once. You wince because fuck, you hadn’t realized how tense you had been holding yourself today until now, and the consequences are quickly setting in.

She’s watching you, observing you closely as she always does. She doesn’t say a word, but she intuitively understands.

She brushes your hair off to one side, and you shiver as your bare neck and shoulders are exposed to her. Warm hands settle over your shoulders, there’s a gentle squeeze, an unspoken question, an offering. The way your head falls forward, the low, contented noise that falls from your lips is all the ascent that she needs.

Her thumbs gingerly press into the tense muscles beneath them. She hums sympathetically, feeling how tender you are beneath her. She keeps her movements slow and precise as she presses her thumbs against you, applying a slight pressure, running them over the backs of your shoulders, gently encouraging the tension to release. She’s ceaselessly patient, only continuing her path upward when she can feel your muscles relax, giving into her ministrations.

She continues to massage across your shoulders and your upper back, seeming to find and undo tension in places that you didn’t even realize you were carrying. It makes you sleepy, the gentle caress of her hands gliding over your skin, paired with the firm press of her knuckles, exactly where you need it.

One of her hands slowly runs up the back of your neck, gently cupping you at the base of your skull. Her fingers smooth over your temples, stress easing away as your eyes flutter shut. Her other hand continues to press and massage in between your shoulder blades, firm and insistent as she smooths her thumbs over the tight knot that’s gathered there, with patient persistence, making it unravel at her touch, and forcing the tension to leave your body.

“Relax, Pretty Girl, I’m not going anywhere,” her voice is a low rumble against your ear.

Her lips brush over one of the bruises she’s left on the side of your neck, and suddenly, it’s like all the tension bleeds out of you, draining so quickly that you don’t have time to catch yourself.

She laughs softly as you try to contain the yawn that tears through you as she eases you back towards the pillows. She wraps a soft blanket around both of you, covering your bodies and making sure you’re tucked in securely.

She settles in behind you, warm, bare skin pressing against yours as she curls herself around you. A strong arm wraps around your waist, gently tugging you close to her as her leg hooks over yours.

You’re barely awake, only aware enough to snuggle into her, saying sleepily, “if this is the treatment I’m going to get after one swimming lesson, what are you gonna do when I’ve mastered it?”

There’s a soft chuckle, low against your ear as she whispers, “don’t worry about that, pretty girl, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

She kisses the top of your head, lingering for a moment as she adoringly watches your eyes flutter. You sigh with contentment, letting a sleepy smile graze over your lips. Maybe she doesn’t realize what she’s doing, maybe she isn’t even aware…but, in this moment, you’re surrounded by her.

Her safety.

Her warmth .

Her unconditional and unwavering love is curled around your heart as closely as she’s curled herself around you. She’s here, she’s safety, she’s love,and right now, she is all that you could ever want.

this was actually my first attempt at writing smut, and in spite of how nervous I am to share it, I’m actually really happy with how it turned out. So if you enjoyed it, please let me know, notes, comments, and re-blogs are so appreciated. Thank you so much for reading

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fluff #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us #The last of us part

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onlyjaeyun · 11 months

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[ 12:45pm ] 𝙨𝙞𝙢 𝙟𝙖𝙚𝙮𝙪𝙣 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙥𝙪𝙨𝙨𝙮 𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙝𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙖𝙨𝙩!𝙮𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙚, 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮, 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜

"your nose is so pretty."

you find yourself mumbling at your boyfriend before your brain can even overthink those words and yet you're glad you didn't hesitate.

there's absolutely no reaction from jaeyun for a whole minute as you absentmindedly trace his sharp features with your fingers, not quite able to handle just how handsome he is.

you've been observing his side profile for a while now and every time your eyes found their way to his nose, you couldn't help but bite your bottom lip at the mental image of its tip nudging against your clit whenever he's got his face buried in your cunt.

jaeyun's been playing his video game for about an hour now and despite wanting to give him some space, you simply couldn't resist the craving of being close to him.

it's not like he minds your presence at all; jaeyun loves having your legs in his lap and your hand in his hair, playing with the soft strands as he enjoys his daily screen time away from all of his responsibilities.

usually you're quick to fall asleep, yet this time you seem to focused on him to even let the actual thought of sleep cross your mind.

you know it's because you can't stop thinking about your boyfriends plump lips, his hot tongue and his perfect nose, your head full of thoughts about how good he makes you cum over and over again once he's gotten a taste.

whereas jaeyun remains absolutely clueless. he's also a little too focused to pay complete attention to your words but he does appreciate your conpliment a lot. growing up it's always been a little difficult for him to like his nose since it's on the bigger side and not quite what people necessarily find attractive, until the two of you started dating and you've made it your mission to let him know just how perfect he is.

jaeyun places a quick kiss of gratitude into your palm before he pushes his lips into a thoughtful pout and focuses on his game again, not realising how much you've been pressing your thighs together in hopes of releasing some of the pressure on your needy cunt.

there's just something about the way he scratches the sides of his nose whenever he's slowly getting excited, poking the inside of his cheeks with his tongue and nibbling on his lip like he's purposely trying to torture you.

"yunie", you mumble and reach for his hand, grateful he's quick to play into your neediness as he grabs your inner thigh and gently strokes your skin, "i wanna ride your face, please."

usually you're not one to be this bold with your requests but after watching him for the past hour it's been incredibly hard for you to maintain your composure and even your patience has limits.

jake is absolutely stunned at your words. for a second he's not sure if he even heard you right, giving you a double take just to realise your current state.

eyes glossy, lips pushed into the cutest pout, thigh firmly pressed together and your cute nipples poking through the fabric of your pyjama shirt to the point where not a single thought is left to imagination.

just out of curiosity jaeyun lets his hand wander in between your legs, gulping harshly at the way they fall apart like you've been waiting to be relieved and once his fingers graze your soaked panties, he knows exactly why you're reacting the way you do.

without even missing another beat, jake throws his controller as well as his headset to the side, turning his game off and almost instantly laying on his side of the bed.

"i'm sorry for not realising sooner, baby", he whispers as you shakily make your way to straddle his handsome face, his cheeks and lips tinted in the sweetest shade of pink, "there you go, good girl."

his praise elicits a soft whimper from your throat, your hole clenching in absolute despair and the second the tip of his nose grazes your flesh, you throw your head back with a loud moan of relief.

"fuck, baby", jake grunts against your cunt, his tongue lapping up your sweet juices and if it wasn't for his tight grip on your waist, you would have thought he passed out, "you're so wet for me, angel girl, so perfect."

all you can do is whimper in response, grabbing a fistful of his dark hair and grinding yourself against his tongue, whining every time his nose nudges your hardened clit.

"that's why you love my nose so much, hm?", jake smiles and pushes his tongue inside of your clenching hole, groaning and moaning against your wet flesh like a man gone mad.

"mhm, y-yes", you whisper and feel the sweet sensation of your release climbing up your spine in the sweetest way possible, "love sitting on it."

and for a moment jake's movements stop, as he appreciates your sweet compliment, head cloudy from all the arousal floading his brain and his cheeks burning from excitement.

"that's my good girl", he grunts and finally wraps his lips around your sensitive clit before he pushes the tip of his tongue against the nub and applies just the right amount of pressure, making sure to have you cum all over his face to make you feel as lover and appreciated as he does.

#enhypen smut #sim jaeyun smut #enha smut #enha hard hours #jaeyun hard hours #jake hard hours #; angel boy #; drabbles

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rebelfell · 6 months

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so right, it's wrong

continued from x

where its halloween and eddie feels guilty for hooking up with his best friend's ex...except are you still his ex? 18+, MDNI

“Stupid. This is stupid. This is so, so stupid.”

Eddie mutters to himself as he skulks up the driveway towards the front of Steve’s house. His costume was hot and itchy on his skin, the pants suddenly feeling too tight and his shirt and vest threatening to choke him despite their looseness on his frame. The fencing sword tied to his hip poked him with every step and his boots were more like cement blocks he was dragging to the threshold as he rang the bell.

The idea to dress as characters from The Princess Bride had been in the works for ages—ever since Steve heard about the contest KQRX was throwing, offering free concert tickets for a whole year as the prize. Originally, it was going to be all three of you, but that was before the break-up, before Tina’s party…before Eddie considered selling his soul for another night with you.

It felt wrong even going through with all this, considering how involved you’d been.

It was you who helped Eddie scour seemingly endless thrift shops for the perfect pieces of his outfit while he was pinching the inside of his arm to stop himself thinking about dragging you into one of the dressing rooms and kissing every inch of your body. And it was you who watched as he and Steve practiced their “sword fight” out by the Harrington’s pool—looking debilitatingly, unfairly, cute wrapped up in a flannel, correcting Steve when he botched his lines and making a pink blush dance across Eddie’s cheeks when you praised his delivery.

Steve was convinced there was still a good chance of winning even with just the two of them, and Eddie didn’t have it in him to protest. He was still trying to figure out how he was going to look his friend in the eye after what happened.

You and Eddie hadn’t spoken since Friday night.

There had been tons of parties all weekend, as was typical whenever Halloween fell on a Tuesday. He probably could have found you if he’d had the balls to go looking. He knew well how keen you were to dress up at any and every opportunity for your favorite holiday.

And he wanted to call you, he really did. He must have dialed all but the last digit of your number about a hundred times since that night.

It was driving Wayne up the wall.

“Boy, if you ain’t gonna dial that phone, stop gettin’ its hopes up. If you don’t leave it alone, I’m gon’ knock you upside the head with it.”

But if he did call, what was he supposed to say? Hey! Thanks for sucking out the very essence of my soul through my cock? How about I return the favor sometime? Sound good?

Yeah, sure. That would go over great.

So instead, he’d hidden in his room. He’d worked on campaigns for Hellfire in between his pacing in front of the phone. And instead of going to your friend Ella’s party Sunday night, knowing how likely it was you’d be there, he’d gone over to Gareth’s for a slasher movie marathon.

Nothing like senseless bloodshed and gore to kill a perpetual boner. Not that it did.

Even hours of b-tier horror couldn’t stop him from thinking about you. The whole night kept playing on a loop in his mind. The way you straddled his lap and moaned into his mouth as he grasped at your hips to grind you against him. The way your mouth fell open in a wanton gasp as he kissed his way down your neck. The way you slinked to the floor and released him from his boxers that were stretched to their absolute limit. The look in your eyes as you spoke, low and sultry.

“I know you want me, Eddie,” you’d cooed at him, teasingly kissing at his weeping, sensitive tip until his head was thrown back and his eyes rolled back into his skull. “Show me how much.”

“Is that seriously the best you could do, Munson? Come on!”

Steve’s voice rings out harshly the second he opens the door, jerking Eddie out of his trance.

He huffs at the sight of Eddie’s mustache, or rather lack thereof, placing his hands on cocked hips. He makes an annoyingly good Dread Pirate Roberts in a billowing black shirt with a deep v-neck that reveals a patch of his dense chest hair. His black pants are tight, showing off muscled thighs and he’s already got his mask wrapped around his head, his own sword in hand.

“Not all of us are part werewolf, Steven.” Eddie snipes as he stalks through the door and pushes past his friend, guilty eyes averting.

“Whatever, maybe we can fill it in or something. Oh, honey! Perfect timing!”

Honey?

Eddie’s head whips around to see you floating down the staircase, the swishing of your skirt around your legs halting as Steve holds out his hand and tugs you into him.

“Shit, babe, you look hot,” Steve says, planting a wet kiss on your cheek that made you smile and caused Eddie’s stomach to lurch.

“Hot” didn’t even begin to describe you tonight. You looked…like a princess.

There was no other word for it. His heart was hammering behind his rib cage as his eyes roved over you, eager to take in every detail he could. Your dress was almost exactly like the one from the movie and even with the big sleeves and a long, flowing skirt, it failed to conceal the shape of your body underneath. It hinted at the curves there, teasing Eddie with the memory of them. Was it really just a few days ago his hands had roamed so freely all over you? Had feasted on the dip of your waist and the fullness of your hips?

You peer at Eddie curiously, subtly stepping back from Steve as you’re tucking a piece of your long wig behind your ear. “You look nice,” you say.

“Except the obvious,” Steve sighs. “Can you do something about his mustache?”

“Yeah, sure,” you breathe, your eyes never leaving Eddie’s, your head tipping towards the bathroom. “Come in here where the light is better.”

With a gulp and a nod, he follows you while Steve heads for the kitchen to make another drink, and probably check his own reflection on the way.

Eddie is dead silent as he leans on the sink in the half-bath off the foyer. He clutches at the edge of the countertop, sweaty palms threatening to slip out from beneath him at any second. With any luck, maybe he’ll hit his head on the porcelain and the concussion will get him out of this.

You’re quiet too as you root around inside a small pouch filled with your make-up until you exhume a brown eyeliner pencil. You place your fingertips gently on his chin, holding his face steady as you color in his upper lip with short, soft strokes. The feather-light touch and the way your eyes focus so intently on him makes Eddie’s heart race and he feels certain you can see it’s about to beat straight out of his chest.

“You okay?” you whisper. “You’re shaking.”

Eddie nods, neck stiff and his body rigid with you standing so close to him. He swallows thickly, his throat clenching with the question he’s dreading. But he has to ask. He has to know.

“So, you guys are—are you, like…back together?”

“I don’t know yet,” you say, your voice small. “Maybe. We’ve been talking about it.”

“Since when?” he asks, and the sound comes out harsher than he meant. Your eyes flicker, the light from the sconce over the mirror shining in them.

“Sunday night. We ran into each other at Ella’s party.”

Fucking shit. Of course you did.

“I thought I might hear from you,” you add quietly. “Or maybe see you, but…”

You lick your lips, glancing away from him as you cap your eyeliner and tuck it back inside your bag. Your tongue wets the gloss you’re wearing and makes it look even shinier. Fuck, he wants to know how you taste tonight, what flavor it is that’s on your mouth.

“I…I…”

Eddie’s mind swims with all the words he wants to say, but they get snagged, unable to come out. Because what exactly is he supposed to say when all he can think about is pinning you against that door, hiking up your dress and filling your hot, slick core with his fingers or his tongue or his cock until you’re screaming his name loud enough for the entire town to hear?

Except that’s never gonna happen. Because he’s not Westley. He’s not the hero here. You’re not his heroine and you never will be. There’s no version of the movie that ends with Inigo and Buttercup riding off into the sunset together.

“It’s fine, Eddie. I get it,” you say softly. “We can forget it ever happened.”

Eddie sighs, the heft of his frustration punching it out of his chest. If that’s what you want, of course he’ll do it. He’s been pretending not to be in love with you for a long time already.

No sense breaking the streak now.

You lean around him to collect your bag from the sink and the smell of your perfume is like a punch straight to his gut. He takes one last deep breath of you as you zip your bag shut and reach for the knob on the door.

It creaks as you crack it open and you pause, chancing a glance back at him. "You really do look handsome," you tell him.

And then you leave. You head for the kitchen and go back to your boyfriend who's waiting for you. Back to the only version of this movie there is.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson stranger things

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gurugirl · 1 year

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Gurugirl's Wattpad & Tumblr Fic Recs

Anything you read in these masterlists won’t disappoint but I’ve picked my absolute favorites from each blog and listed below.

NOTE: I did my best to include all my faves here but I've probably forgotten a few. I intend to add to this list (may need to make a part 2 once I hit my mentions and link limits) because I'm always reading new fics so come back often!

Angst recs (all taken from list below but specific to the more angsty ones)

Daddy kink

Enemies to lovers

Summer vibes & party fics

Personal faves from my own writings

Other blogs I love

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@1d1195

One Shot: Right Here: one bed, nightmares, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, childhood "friendship," coworker Harry, grumpy/sunshine (I'll let you guess who's who), etc. etc. etc.

@a-strange-familiar

Series: His Memories (3 parts): you and Harry broke up few months back but still love each other. And after all these months you see him again in a party. All memories you tried to push back in your head came back with a powerful speed.

@adorebeaa

One shot: Undo Me: YN reveals a kink in front of best friend!Harry, who is curious…

@awideworldoffanfics

Series: Milking the Grip (5 parts): Harry Styles is a single dad who golfs every Tuesday. Y/N is his babysitter who also happens to work at the golf course he goes to. They’ve never run into each other there. Until they do.

@be-with-me-so-happily

Series: My Way Back Home: YN is left to figure out what to do when the love of her life, Harry, does not remember loving her. (AU)

Series: Don't Worry Darling: Y/N has her first big break as an actress as she lands the leading role in 'Don't Worry Darling'. The only problem is that her co-star is Harry Styles, who she feels has a very big ego. Tensions rise the more they film. All kinds of tension...

One Shot: Friendly Favor: When YN's best friend Harry asks for a favor, she knows it'll be difficult, but she loves him too much to say no. However, it's a dumb plan, and those usually don't end how you think they will.

Series: Laceleaf: Gemma is definitely Cassidy James' favourite Styles family member, considering they are best friends and all. And especially considering that Harry Styles is Gemma's smug and self-centered younger brother. Her life isn't perfect, and neither is she, but she knows for a fact that anything involving Harry gets messy.

@bopbopstyles

Masterlist (anything you pick here will be a pleasure - seriously)

@fkinavocado

Series: Daddy Issues: in which you’ve got textbook daddy issues and when your tool of a younger brother brings a sweet doe eyed girlfriend home for Thanksgiving and you end up offering her a ride home, you meet just the man to fix them. (daddy!harry, dilf!harry)

Series: Hard Candy: in which Harry owns a candy store and he just loves giving good girls special treats… especially after closing time (candyman!Harry)

One Shots & Blurbs: Long Hair Harry One Shots & Blurbs

@freedomfireflies

Series: Playboy: Welcome to 1965, where the women are loose, and the morals are looser. Here you'll meet Michelle and Harry. You don't need to know too much about them. Just that they're both incredibly bold...and incredibly jealous. The summer of June 1965 was a rather wild one for the Playboy Bunnies but even more wild for our two dear friends. Stick around and I'm sure they'll be happy to tell you all about it. You just have to promise one little thing... Don't tell Hefner.

Series: Teach Me: 5 parts - Harry needs a little practice in the art of Eating Pussy, and who better to ask for help than his best friend?

Series: Mafia!harry: 2 parts so far - more to come - Your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, has been a little neglectful of his most prized possession. But he's found the perfect way to make it right. Exhibition kink!!

@goldenbuckyyy

Series: Illicit Affairs: A series of events between your affair with Harry. (Cheating together)

@harryistheonlyoneforme

One Shot: Little Freak: pairing: dbf harry x reader (so hot - so many kinks all in one little shot - must read)

@harrywritingsbyme

Sneaking Around (a series of shorts): Best friends dad - FUCKING HOT

@helladirections

Series: Brother's Best Friend: Harry is YN’s brother’s best friend, and YN isn’t a little kid anymore. Ft. dom/sub, rough sex, and soft words.

One Shot: Under Summer Skies: Harry and YN are longtime best friends back for another summer as the Dream Team on staff. Featuring getting called out by 12 year olds, two dumb best friends who can’t see what’s right in front of them, and lots of stargazing.

One Shot: Moka Pot: Do you think you can maybe do y/n and Harry having a slow morning routine? Like drinking tea together, doing skin together, basically just doing everything together?

@itslottiehere

One Shot: I Don't Want to Hear About Him (angsty): bff!harry writes a song about bff!reader.. and her boyfriend.

@jawllines

Harry is Y/n's Criminology Instructor (2 parts)

Harry is a single dad and y/n is surprisingly good at babysitting (2 parts)

Harry & y/n are witches, they hate eachother, and something's coming (3 parts)

Y/n knows something she shouldn't and Harry does what on Fridays? (4 parts) - Boxer!harry

Harry is a grumpy mechanic and y/n just can't stop talking (4 parts)

@jarofstyles

King of the Jungle (multi part series): Y/N’s family works for a wildlife preservation society and Harry is king of the jungle or tarzan!harry

Lone Wolf (multi part series): Harry is a grumpy alpha who has given up on finding his mate or werewolf!harry

Beauty & the Beast (multi part series): Harry is a moody, withdrawn but successful creature who needs a companion who can tend to his… needs.

@lemoncrushh

Series: The Entertainer: Set in the 70s, Sky Jones meets Harry Styles, an up and coming musician and soon-to-be rockstar. The Entertainer Part II

One Shot: Dressing For Revenge: Still heartbroken from finding your ex cheating on you, you go to a nightclub with your friend Kelsie, where not only do you run into your ex, but also a handsome gentleman who’s willing to help you get over him. Part II

@lukesaprince

Series: Intruder: You were an outside hire for a promotion Harry wanted, and he despises you for it. The hatred is mutual since Harry is a bit of an asshole, until the day of an important presentation where the tension is finally dealt with - A very steamy enemies to lovers romance (domrry)

Series: The Roommate Series: After Y/N’s best friend and roommate Alex decides to move out, she’s desperate for someone to take her place. Alex seems to have found the solution in a British fresh-to-New-York musician who ticks all the boxes. He just happens to be insanely attractive and charismatic… what could go wrong? (friends to lovers)

Series: Fratboy!harry You Can Pretend All You Want: You hate fratboys and everything they stand for, so you decide to prove one wrong by sleeping with him… safe to say it backfires (fratboy!harry, enemies to lovers).

Series: Rich: Neighbour/Older!Harry. A Summer dogsitting job for Mr. Styles is a dream come true for any broke uni student. He's rich, gorgeous and finally fucks you after your weekly dinner together. A series that follows two neighbours who end up in a sexual relationship.

@moonchildstyles

Series: Aster: Harry is a tattoo artist and y/n just wants to know if he's like this all the time or if he just doesn't like her. tattoo artist!harry / lhh!harry

Series: Citrine: Harry's a witch and it's been along time since since he's been around anyone new, but there's no way he was getting y/n out of his head. witch!harry

Series: Chiaroscuro: y/n needed a job but this place is strange and the owner is even stranger. vampire!harry

Series: Prosecco: Harry is just on the edge of 30 and y/n is someone he's sure he shouldn't get involved with. until she seeks him out anyway, and he realizes no one has ever really shown her how she should be treated. older!harry

@0oolookitsme

One Shot: Dazzled: In which Harry has an uneasy feeling about Y/n’s new mission but the devil ignores his guts’ screams. But the vampire as well as his fiancé, Y/n, isn’t dumb and is quick to listen and take some weight off of his shoulders. They both soon find out, why, he was feeling uneasy.

One Shot: Anything For You... And I: SMUTTY!!!! Dwd!Harry x Dwd-Character!Y/n

@0nlythrowharrybeaux

Friends Share (2 parts):Harry & Y/N have been practically perfect roommates for several years but the appearance of a hot new neighbor creates an unexpected shift in their relationship.

Unavailable (2 parts): Y/N has a very specific preference for unavailable/inappropriate people and Harry is her therapist who is supposed to help her work through this.

@pleasingforharry

Moans & Elevator Music (2 parts): Y/N is in a rush for an interview at her new job, but her luck gives out when the elevators shut down due to a sudden power outage. At least she isn’t alone.

@purplekiwis

Breaking the Ice (2 parts): Hockey!Harry x Skater!Y/N It’s no secret that as a figure skater, you’re fed up with the local hockey team being treated like royalty… and your ex’s status as a player isn’t helping much either.

In the Witching Hours (will be 3 parts): Wizard!Harry x Witch!Y/N; Soulmates AU An emergency admission to the hospital gives rise to a series of strange events but luckily, there’s a cute, shy wizard around…

One shot: Tentmate: Friends With Benefits Y/N has always hated camping… until her and Harry got stuck together in the same tent. (This one is smutty AF)

@s-brant

Series: The Getaway Car: In a drug deal gone wrong, Y/N, daughter to a famous racecar driver, finds herself behind the wheel of a car with a gun to her head. A masked man named Harry demands she helps him evade the authorities, so she does the only thing she knows how to. She drives.

One Shot: Midas Touch: The night before they leave to spend Christmas with his family, a conversation with their friends makes Harry and Y/N confront the future of their marriage.

@stylesloveclub

Series: Pleasing: In which y/n is a broke waitress, and Harry is a Michelin star chef who thinks she’s cuter than a puppy.

@swiftmendeshoran

Series: Curvy Secret/No More Secrets Daddy: Dad's best friend (dbf!) Harry x plus size reader

@watchmegetobsessed

Series: The Sun Will Rise: You’re glad to be back at college and away from your family. Everything is back to its normal, but you have a little issue: you told your family you’d bring a date to your sister’s wedding, but you have no actual partner. An unexpected deal is made with the person you couldn’t even consider to be your friend: Harry can take the spare room in your apartment for the semester if he’ll be your date for the wedding. But can you actually live together with a guy who obviously dislikes you and you have no idea why? Can you fool your parents into thinking you’re dating Harry? And what will they think about him? Nothing is ever good enough to them, nothing that’s not as perfect as your sister, Alice.

Series: Wildest Fantasies: You’ve been struggling to finish your assignment for Professor Styles’ Creative Writing class. Inspiration is seem to be avoiding you, so to relieve some stress, you mess around with your roommates and write a rather dirty fiction of the hot professor everyone is into on campus. Due to a fatal mistake however, you end up uploading the wrong file as your attachment to your assignment and your wildest fantasies end up in the hands of the person they are about.

Good Girl (Part 2): sugardaddy!Harry / CEO!Harry x Reader

@writerpetals (writes optional male lead smut but you can easily imagine any male *coughharrycough* as the males are described as tall, well-built, with a nice head of hair - read anything this author writes - it's good, you will find almost any trope - ENJOY)

One Shot: Lakeside: werewolf!au, werewolf x reader

@zayndrivesmeinvain

Series (wip): The One That Got Away: In which Harry and Alena were college sweethearts, however, all of that has changed and the only thing keeping in contact is the fact that they have a child together. Is it possible for them to even get to a normal standing friendship or is that long gone? dadrry x oc | single dad!harry

i hit my link limits so was unable to insert link to part one of their series. check out their masterlist and you'll find it!

Wattpad

1-800-TITS = @1800titz (added May 21)

Series: The Devil is a Gentleman: "My name is Eros," the masked male cocks his head a smidge at her, and, if only slightly through the shadow casts between the parted zipper, Isla catches sight of a smile tugging at his lips on the latter fragment of his statement, "But you already know that. I'd hope, anyways. We've had a chat. Or two." His lips - his mouth. Isla ogles the latex through the peepholes of her own and wonders what shape the rest of his features take, what carves and forges his face, how his nose slopes, the assemblage of it all. "I think I recall, vaguely," she teases. "Mm. Vaguely. I'll take note of that. Well, although we are acquainted," Eros smooths his fingertips over the arm of the chair, a lavish facade of plastic masquerading. The latter fragment of his statement prompts the steady bump of her heart to spur behind her ribcage. "You will address me as Master." Isla swallows. Despite her prior train of thought looping so intently on the tracks to decipher what she believes he'd look like beneath his mask, it's entirely derailed by the serious note in his previously light cadence. She wonders how a mere introduction manages to send such a thrilling rush rolling down her spine. Eros leans forward, forearms braced to his splayed thighs, almost as if to bend to her level. "Or Sir. Master, Sir, it's all the same to me. Your preference." OR the one in which there's a sex club, Greek stage names, the exploration of boundaries, an open house, a pair of dress shoes, and two sides of the same coin.

_miiki

Series: Artwork & Aquarelle: "Sierra, you go with Harry Styles." I raised up my head at the words, giving my teacher an incredulous glance. "Do I really have to?" Was the only thing I managed to say. The teacher gave me an annoyed look. "Did you not understand? You go with Harry Styles." I turned my head to look at him. At the mention of his name he glanced up, and if his green eyes hadn't frozen me in place already, the unimpressed look he gave me would've done it right away.

Aggressivelyfriendly = @aggresivelyfriendly

Series: Who Names the Colors: In the last year, Joanne Smith Giles, has once again become Jo Smith. In another heartbreaking turn of events, she's also the single mother of an infant, again. She knows she can do this on her own, and better at 40 than 19, but it seems weird to be launching a son into manhood, a new career as an art professor, and changing nappies all in one day. She is so thankful when Ethan, her boy, comes home from Uni. Jo could use the help. His best friend, Harry, comes round too. And his launch into manhood may be another heartbreaking turn, for all of them

ErinAlterEgo = @yourwattpadmom

Series: Late night Talking: Alex is craving something at night, and it's not ice cream. Encouraged by her husband to explore a polyamory relationship to meet some of her more....eclectic tastes, she finds herself on a dating app for the first time in her life. She expected maybe some interesting experiences, possibly her first one-night stand ever. She didn't expect to meet a man who made her question everything about herself. Harry is on a new path in his life that is exciting and different than he ever could have imagined. He's looking for excitement, experiences, but definitely not love and attachment. When he meets Alex, he sees a whole new path that he's unsure he wants to go down, but finds it hard to resist.

Hitterj (love all of her stuff!)

Series: All This Time: The coming-of-age story of Harry and Riley who have known each other for years, but never actually knew each other. They've spent countless nights at the same parties, shared a few drinks and glances, they're even on track to graduate top of their class. What happens when out of nowhere they start to connect? Like an invisible string pulls them together, so they can experience life and love and heartbreak. Riley and Harry learn a lot about themselves, and ultimately have to choose what's best for their future no matter how difficult that can be. But does love find a way? After all this time?

Series: Kiwi: If you don't know about this one by now... go read it - super duper smutty and sweet and angsty

Series: Sweet Little Lies: All her life, Ivy Malone has known what her family was. She grew up in the deep, unforgiving world of the mob. Ivy hates her position in life, knowing that her life was never fully hers. Harry Styles was cold. He trusted almost no one, especially his family. He had learned quickly that everyone was waiting for him to fail... to fall. An empire built by his father from the blood and bones of those who stepped in his way was all he had, no matter how much he hated it. He had no choice but to carry on the legacy. And marrying Malone's daughter was the next step in fortifying their defense. With new rivals making a move for power and a mysterious figure haunting the crime families of Queenstown, Ivy and Harry have to learn to live together. A bad start leads them down a tumultuous, passionate, and downright dangerous path, but maybe they were exactly what the other needed to live the life they always craved.

MysteryMixtapes (Just go read all their stuff)

Series: Stall & Stall 2: Violence/gangs/dark

Series: Perspective: Have you ever met someone that made falling feel like flying?

Series: Unforgettable: "If it feels so right, how can it be wrong?"

Peanutboyfriend (read all of Birdie's stuff - you won't regret it)

Series: Aerial: In Malibu, California in 1965, a surfer and world-famous aerialist undergoes a chain of comedic and not-so-comedic mishaps that force him to re-evaluate who he is.

Petit_cerise

Series: Devil's Due & Devil's Desire: Harry Styles, the brooding and intolerable tattoo parlour owner, meets River, a stubborn and somewhat oblivious girl, who just doesn't understand the reasoning behind his nefarious ways but is determined to find out. River comes to realize that Harry's hiding something much deeper than expected... only once those secrets come to the surface, it's too late to turn back.

Sunflowersnstuff

Series: One Word & Wonderland: We're all mad here, it's Wonderland.

ThousandYearsOfHope

Series: Lonely Nights: Willow Mackey is a quiet girl, but she is fiercely loyal and will never lie to you. Harry Styles is her brother's best friend, and someone she'll always have a soft spot for. Grown up and no longer shielded by their ages, lines start to blur, and mistakes keep being made. For the first time in her life, Willow realises that sometimes, the truth is too painful to hear. But how could she ever say no to the one person that's always understood her better than she understands herself?

Series: Pretty Boy: One night of impulse shouldn't lead to much for Joni Lewis, but when she meets the alluring Harry Styles, an opportunity arises that she can't ignore. A Harry Styles short story inspired by Pretty Woman.

Writhali (I really like everything I've read by Thali)

Series: Ambit: Gangs/violence/action/SMUT - "Hell's boring, Birdie." He claims, that cold, dead stare back to his eyes. "And this, this is what I call a Monday night."

#gurugirl fic recs #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry x reader #harry styles fic #my faves

3K notes · View notes

soaringthroughthegalaxy · 5 months

Note

Hi. Can you write something spicy with Wrecker x f! reader with the prompt 62. “Is that my shirt?” Maybe reader needs new clothes during a mission and she forgets her spares on Kamino, leading her to wear Wrecker's. She takes advantage of the situation to tease him a little, but we know Wrecker is a little innocent, until Crosshair opens his eyes.. "If you don't fu** her, I will." 😂

Hi,

Thank you so much for this request, I absolutely loved writing it!

What's Mine is Yours

While working on a mission on Corellia, a clothing mishap leads to much more than you anticipated.

Pairing: Wrecker x F!reader

Word count: 4.2k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!

Warnings: accidental clothes sharing, reader described as busty, lewd comment as motivation (one guess who it comes from…), confession of feelings, idiots in love, first kiss, oral (f!receiving), face sitting, fingering, semi-clothed sex, unprotected PiV, squint for size and strength kink.

“Where the hell is it?” You huff, hands scrambling through your backpack as you pull out your belongings, scattering them across the dresser in the dingy hotel room.

You and the boys had been sent to Bela Vistal, a small mountain city on Corellia. The Jedi had caught wind of a shady auction, with whispers of a Holocron up for grabs. It was your job as a squad to scope the place out, gather as much intel as possible, and strike and extract the Holocron if the opportunity presented itself.

By now, you’re used to working with limited information. As a civilian handler, it was your job to fill in the blanks and help the boys with anything they needed to successfully complete their missions – something you’d spent over a year doing remarkably well at. Today that had included wandering around the city with Tech, pretending to be together – out of them all, his appearance was less likely to arouse suspicion. You’d conversed politely with market vendors and cantina owners, asking subtle questions to discover more about the auction.

Ultimately, it had been a fruitless endeavour, and the pair of you had returned to the hotel as the sun had been setting, food in hand. You’d excused yourself after eating, slipping back into your room via the door connecting the two rooms you’d rented for a quick shower.

And now here you were, furiously rifling through your belongings for a clean shirt. You’d packed one; you swore you had. Fingers finding soft fabric, you let out a small noise of triumph, prying the material from your backpack. Towel falling to the floor, you shimmed on a clean pair of panties and some sleep shorts before dragging on the top. Only once it was over your head did you realise something was off. Either you’d suddenly lost a lot of weight or…

Scrambling for the neckline, you twist and turn until you can see the tag and the large ‘W’ sewn into it. “Dank farrik.” You mutter, teeth sinking into your lower lip at the realisation that you’d somehow packed Wrecker’s shirt instead of your own.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at yourself in the mirror on the back of the fresher door. The oversized garment hit mid-thigh, the sleeves extending far beyond your hands. The only saving grace was that your boobs took up enough room that it gave the shirt a little bit of shape. You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

The thought of going out into the field wearing Wrecker’s clothing was hilarious, but your laughter soon subsided as you really looked at yourself. Oversized it might be, but it almost…suited you. And though it was clean, you lifted the collar to your nose and inhaled, picking up on a sweet scent that seemed to linger on all of Wrecker’s belongings.

You’d found great comfort in that scent over the last few months, drawn towards Wrecker and his infectious grin. Lips tugging into a smile, a tender warmth spread through you as you thought about the countless times Wrecker had been there to lighten the mood with his quips and laughter and how his protective nature made you feel secure amid the uncertainties of life.

The realisation of what your feelings meant hit you like a wave, and as you stood there, a myriad of emotions swirled within you. The laughter that had filled the room moments ago was replaced by a soft, introspective silence. As you continued to gaze at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but acknowledge the depth of your connection with Wrecker. It went beyond the professional companionship forged across dangerous missions. It was something more personal, something that had quietly grown amidst the chaos of your work.

“Oh, kriff…” You whisper, staring at your own wide-eyed reflection. The sound of a knock on the connecting door interrupts your thoughts. Startled, you turn towards it, momentarily forgetting about the shirt you were wearing. Smoothing down the fabric, you move across to open the door, revealing Hunter.

“Thought you might’ve drowned.” He quips as the door opens; your showers never usually take so long. Gaze dropping down, Hunter takes in the sight of you, chuckling. “Well, looks like you’re drowning, alright.”

“I must’ve grabbed the wrong shirt in our hurry to leave Kamino.” You admit sheepishly, feeling warmth in your cheeks as Hunter steps aside, revealing you to his brothers.

To his credit, Tech offers you a reassuring smile while Crosshair snorts in amusement. But it’s Wrecker’s reaction that catches you off guard the most.

Wrecker’s eyes widen as his gaze rakes down your body. “I-Is that my shirt?” He asks, swallowing thickly. Heat creeps across his cheeks as he admires you, the curves of your body making it look entirely different than it did on him. He can feel the heavy thud of his heart, and for a moment, the room is filled with an almost tangible tension. Wrecker stands frozen, his eyes locked onto you.

“Yeah, I, uh, must’ve grabbed it by mistake.” You stammer, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze.

Wrecker blinks, tearing his eyes away from you to glance at Hunter, Tech, and Crosshair. Hunter raises an eyebrow, clearly finding the situation entertaining but not commenting further. Tech adjusts his goggles, a knowing glint in his eyes, while Crosshair smirks, thoroughly amused. Clearing his throat, Wrecker manages to break the silence. “Well, it looks... good on ya.”

The sincerity in his voice surprises you, and you catch a flicker of something in his eyes that you can’t quite place. You give a nervous laugh, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. “Thanks, Wreck. I’ll wash it and get it back to you.”

“Nah, keep it.” He says quickly, almost too quickly. “Looks better on you anyway.”

The room falls into another awkward silence as Wrecker scratches the back of his head, unsure how to navigate the sudden shift in the atmosphere. It’s rare to see the big, boisterous man at a loss for words.

Hunter, always the pragmatist, breaks the tension. “Alright, enough of the fashion show. We’ve got a mission to focus on.”

The seriousness of the mission looms over the room, momentarily overshadowing the awkwardness. You gather around the table, holomaps of the city and your datapads spread out as you discuss the action plan.

As the discussion progresses, Wrecker finds his eyes straying to you often, trying to commit the vision of you in his clothes to memory, the way it drapes over your frame and the subtle scent of your shampoo that he knows will linger on the garment now too.

The realisation hits him like a ton of bricks – the feelings he’s been trying to suppress, the concern that goes beyond the missions, the warmth he feels when you’re around – it’s all there, staring him in the face.

Wrecker clears his throat again, attempting to focus on the plan you’re all hashing out, not the crazy beating of his heart. He chimes in enthusiastically, but his mind keeps drifting back to you. As the planning continues, Wrecker catches the knowing look Tech throws him. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to concentrate. He wonders if you feel the same, if the newfound awareness is mutual.

Finally, the planning ends, and with your usual round of goodnights, you’re back in your room, the connecting door firmly shut. Only once you’re gone does Wrecker feel like he can breathe again.

“Real subtle there, big guy,” Hunter comments, giving Wrecker’s shoulder a pat as he passes him.

“What?” Wrecker questions, playing dumb. He’s not quite ready to admit his feelings to his brothers; he’s just starting to come to terms with the recent revelation.

None of them are fooled. Tech reaches up, adjusting his goggles. “You were admiring her quite intently.” He points out.

“I would, too, if she were wearing my shirt.” Crosshair chimes in, leaning back on the small couch in the room, propping his feet up on the table as he feels Wrecker’s eyes narrow in his direction. “But hey, if you won’t kriff her, I will.” He comments, unafraid to poke the bear.

In sync, Hunter and Tech facepalm.

A flash of anger courses through Wrecker. “You wouldn’t.” He growls, hating the very idea.

“Wouldn’t I?” Crosshair goads. “She’s a pretty little thing. Bet she’d looked even prettier underne-“

“Hey!” Wrecker’s sharp shout cuts him off. “You don’t talk about her like that. She deserves better, and I won’t let ya disrespect her. Not when she’s the best thing to happen to us in a long while and always lookin’ out for us.”

Amusement curls at Crosshair’s lips. Truth told, forcing those words out had been horrible – he respected you too much – but it had given him the ammunition he needed to make his point. “Hm, sounds like you might have some feelings there, Wrecker.”

Realising he’s been caught in one of his younger brother’s traps, Wrecker groans in frustration, shooting Crosshair a glare that bounces straight off him. With a sigh, Wrecker’s shoulders sag, and he glances over his shoulder towards the connecting door to your room.

Worry curls through him. He did have feelings for you, that much he’d realised, but he wasn’t sure how you felt. The thought of making things awkward or disrupting the dynamics of the squad by introducing personal feelings weighed heavily on Wrecker’s mind.

Hunter picks up on his brother’s internal struggle. “Wrecker, if you’ve got something to say to her, just say it. We’re all adults here. We’ve faced worse than admitting feelings.”

Wrecker sighs. “I just don’t wanna mess things up, y’know? What if she don’t feel the same way, and it makes things weird?”

Tech chips in with his usual logical perspective. “Statistically speaking, relationships formed within a close-knit team can enhance cooperation and overall performance. Emotional bonds can be beneficial.”

Wrecker shoots Tech an incredulous look. “You suggestin’ I tell her I like her ’cause it’s statistically beneficial?”

Tech pushes his goggles back up his nose. “I am merely presenting a logical argument in favour of expressing one’s emotions.”

A noise of frustration slides from Crosshair’s lips, and he pushes himself off the couch. Grabbing Wrecker by the arm, he drags him over to the connecting door, banging his fist against it a few times. “She was eyeing you up, too. Don’t overthink. That’s Tech’s job.” He insists, returning to the couch, shaking his head while muttering about Wrecker’s lack of game.

Hearing you say the door was unlocked, Wrecker takes a deep breath before pushing it open, sliding into your room, letting it click shut behind him.

With Wrecker gone, Hunter, Tech, and Crosshair exchange glances before arranging themselves on the couch to play Sabacc. “You swapped her shirt out of her pack,” Hunter comments as Tech deals the deck, his eyes darting over to Crosshair.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Crosshair doesn’t bother answering; instead, he picks up his cards. Hunter couldn’t prove anything.

Looking up from the dresser, where you’d been trying to organise your belongings back into your backpack, you smile at the sight of Wrecker standing with his back pressed to the door. “Hey, Wreck. Everything okay?” You ask, abandoning your repacking to give the gentle giant your full attention.

Wrecker’s heart pounds in his chest as he steps further into your room, the weight of the revelation he’d shared with his brothers settling in his chest. He grapples with the best way to express his feelings to you, scratching the back of his neck out of nervous habit.

“Uh, yeah, everything’s fine.” He mumbles, avoiding direct eye contact for a moment. “I, um, just wanted to talk to ya about somethin’.”

You tilt your head curiously, a small smile playing on your lips. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Wrecker took another deep breath, his gaze finally meeting yours. “Well, it’s about... us. I mean, you and me. I’ve been feelin’ things, and I just gotta say it. I really like you. I like ya a lot.”

The sincerity in his voice is unmistakable, and your heartbeat quickens in response. Surprise paints your face, delight seeping into your veins that your feelings were returned – that he’d come here to share them with you.

“Wreck.” You begin, your voice soft. “I’ve... I’ve been feeling the same way. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Relief washes over Wrecker’s features, and a wide, genuine smile spreads across his face. “Really?” he asks as if confirming that he wasn’t dreaming.

You nod, your own smile mirroring his. “Really.”

Wrecker chuckles nervously. “Well, guess Crosshair wasn’t entirely wrong about us eyein’ each other up.”

Your jaw drops a little. You’d thought you were being subtle, but you should’ve known the man with super-human vision would catch you out.

Wrecker takes a step closer, gently cupping your face in his large hands, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “I’m not great with words, but I really do care about ya.” He confesses.

“I care about you too, Wreck. And you don’t need to be great with words.” You reply, your eyes locked with his. “Actions speak louder.”

“Then let me show ya.” Wrecker murmurs, head dipping down to kiss your lips tenderly. Large hands move to rest on your hips, pulling you closer. One of your hands finds home at the nape of his neck, keeping his lips against yours as the other settles on his upper arm.

You taste like heaven, like everything Wrecker has ever wanted and dreamed about. His grip on you tightens ever so slightly, but he’s cautious, not wanting to accidentally hurt you. The kiss breaks a moment later, eyes locked on one another as you pull apart, chests heaving. Desire swirls in your gaze, and Wrecker wants to worship you. But he’s conflicted – is this too soon? Do you want this too?

Palms smoothing across Wrecker’s body, you take his hands in your own, walking backwards the few steps to the bed. Sinking to sit on the edge of it, you guide Wrecker down with you, a thrill zinging through you as he wraps an arm around your middle and hauls you further up the bed before settling above you. With one hand supporting most of his weight, you marvel at how warm and broad he is, your body hidden under his as he presses against you, lips finding yours again for a searing kiss.

You’re so small beneath him, so delicate and so pretty, with your hair fanned across the sheets, your beautiful eyes looking up at him with such adoration. Wrecker can’t resist kissing you again, savouring your shared feelings. Tentatively, his hand roams to your thighs, large palm smoothing across soft skin, creeping up, ruching his shirt as his fingers skim under the edge of your sleep shorts.

The gentle touch makes your breath stutter, a low noise sliding from your lips, muffled by the kiss.

Wrecker pulls back, watching as your eyes flutter open. “Too much, babe?” He asks quietly, unsure whether the noise is good and not wanting to push too much.

Shaking your head, you lean up to pepper kisses across his jawline. “More. Please.” You ask, heat building in your belly.

Thrilled, Wrecker breaks out into a grin, shivering as your hands pry his shirt up and off his body. Your fingers fan over his bare chest, tracing every muscle and scar. His pants are next to be discarded, your sleep shorts joining them on the floor before your lips meet again in a needy kiss. Your panties go, followed by his boxers, but as you go to remove his shirt, Wrecker’s fingers still the action.

“Leave it on, babe.” He admits, a flush on his cheeks. There was something so intrinsically hot about you wearing his clothes.

A noise of delight leaves you, followed quickly by one of surprise as Wrecker rolls you both, placing himself beneath you. Straddling him, it’s impossible to ignore the press of his thick, hard cock. It feels enormous, and you’re almost afraid to look down.

Thankfully, you’re spared as Wrecker grabs your ass, huge hands dwarfing it as he hauls you up his body.

Wrecker groans, hands squeezing as he draws you further up. “Want you to sit on my face, babe. Lemme eat that pretty pussy before I kriff ya.”

Heat strikes through you, pussy clenching around nothing at Wrecker’s request. “I-I don’t wanna suffocate you.” You worry as you’re lifted over his face, knees on either side of his head. Warmth blossoms across your cheeks as he stares right at your cunt.

“Ya won’t. And even if you do, what a way to go.” Wrecker growls, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he gazes up at your pussy. Gently, he encourages you down, groaning in satisfaction as you rest lightly against his face – nose and mouth brushing against your slick folds. “That ain’t sittin’.” He grumbles as he notices you trying to hold up some of your weight. Using a little more of his strength, he pulls you down until you’re firmly against his face, his nose pressed to your clit as his tongue laves over your entrance.

“Oh, hells…” You cry out, holding onto the headboard with one hand while the other lands on Wrecker’s head. That first lick of his tongue had felt incredible.

Wrecker feasts, your pussy his new favourite meal. The taste of you fills his mouth, and he moans, dragging his nose across your clit, tongue sloppy as he laves at you before pointing it and pressing it into your hole. He takes a breath whenever he can, drawing the flat of his tongue up through your folds to flick across your clit, lips latching around the sensitive bud so he can suck on it, brushing his tongue over it at the same time.

White hot pleasure is all you can feel, hips rocking as you ride his face, chasing your high. Your hand strokes across his head, fingers gliding over scarred skin. “Kriff, Wreck. Yes. Just like that.” You encourage, pleasure building quickly.

The stretch catches you off guard, two of his thick fingers pressing into you, crooking, as his mouth focuses on your clit. Head thrown back, his name falls from your lips as you come, thighs shaking and pussy spasming around his fingers as the pleasure rolls through your body.

Working you through the high, Wrecker gently pries his mouth off your clit, fingers slowly scissoring as he stretches you out a little more now that you’re more relaxed. He knows he’s big, and the last thing he wants is to hurt you.

Your hips roll slowly, grinding lazily against his face once again as he continues working you open, another thick finger joining the two already buried inside you. Biting down on your lower lip to muffle your moan, the trembles from your orgasm subside.

Fingers slip from you, hands finding your hips. Lifted, you’re moved back down Wrecker’s body until he can kiss you, mouth and chin covered in your juices. You gasp at the taste, at the way his tongue presses into your mouth, and you lazily make out.

Slowly you draw apart; Wrecker’s fingers that weren’t buried in your pussy move to push your hair out of your face tenderly.

The throb between your thighs intensifies, and you lift your hips, shifting until you can grind down against Wrecker’s cock. The rumble in his chest does funny things to your inside, and you smile. “I wanna ride your cock, too.” You state sweetly, enjoying the delight that flares in Wrecker’s eyes.

Scooting back just a little so you rest on his thighs, you drag your gaze from his face to finally take in his cock. It’s much thicker than any you’ve seen before – in person and on the holonet – and longer than average.

He curves a little to the right, the tip flushed a deep red, a bead of pre-cum in the slit. Taking him in hand, his groan reverberates through the room, and you can’t help but dip down to lap at him, the tang on your tongue dragging a sound from you that Wrecker echoes.

Your fingers don’t touch around him, and for a moment, you worry you won’t be able to take him. Shuffling forward a tiny bit until you’re back in your previous position, you line him up with your entrance, pressing just the tip in, and slowly start to sink down, letting gravity do the work.

Wrecker’s pretty sure he’s shaking – from anticipation or barely-there control, he’s not sure. All he does know is that his hands are wrapped around your hips to help guide you but not force you down, and inch by agonising inch, his dick is slowly being enveloped in the heat of your pussy.

The stretch burns a little, even after an orgasm and three fingers working you open. Taking your time, you let out deep breaths as you sink down until you’re finally flush, feeling fuller than ever.

“Stars above, Wreck.” You pant, holding his gaze as you adjust to the feeling. His jaw is clenched, soft brown eyes looking at you with such profound adoration, like he can’t quite believe this is happening. His hands on your hips slide upward, under the edge of his shirt, until he’s grasping at your waist.

Steadily, you give a small roll of your hips, rising ever so slightly before sinking back down. The action pulls a moan from you, Wrecker’s head tilting back against the bed, his groan mingling with your needy sounds. Finding a rhythm, you lean back a little, hands resting on his muscular thighs as warmth builds in your belly with every rise and fall. The burn of the stretch dissolves into pleasure.

Chin tilting down, Wrecker watches as you ride him, how your lips part with every little whimper and sigh, and your tits bounce beneath his shirt. The sight goes straight to his cock, hand sliding up from your waist until he can palm your breasts under the garment, fingers pressed against soft flesh. You’re a handful, even for him, and he grunts, thumb and forefinger tweaking your pebbled nipples.

The whine you let out is delicious, and his gaze roves down your body, settling on where the two of you are connected, watching how he slides in and out of your pussy. The sight, the sounds, and the feeling of you around him push him closer and closer to the edge. Fingers smoothing back down your body, they press against your clit, firm circles rubbed against the sensitive nub.

“Kriff. Kriff. Kriff.” You curse, eyes screwed shut as the warmth grows towards an inferno. Pitching forward, you change the angle, hands resting against his broad chest, providing better leverage as your pace quickens. Your thighs start to ache, but you’ll be damned if you let that stop you.

“That’s it, babe. Hells, your pussy feels so kriffin’ good.” Wrecker pants, his words helping push you over the edge. Your body goes taut above him, pleasure contorting your face as you clamp down around him, coming on his cock with a cry of his name. He keeps his fingers moving, working you through the high until the tremors in your body stop and your hazy eyes open to meet his.

You share a soft smile, and Wrecker surges up, lips meeting yours for a passionate kiss as he grasps back at your hips. Holding you in place, his hips snap quickly as he fucks up into you, chasing his high now you’ve been satisfied.

Tongues meeting, the kiss is frantic and messy, noises muffled by each other’s lips. You pull back just enough to gaze down at him. “Come in me. Please.” Your needy whine reverberates around the room.

You were perfect. So perfect. Your pleading words, the grip of your tight pussy around him… Wrecker’s thrusts falter, and with two more sharp snaps of his hips, he pushes himself deep inside you, growling out your name as he’s swept into pleasure, filling you.

The room falls silent except for your harsh breaths, gazes locked before you steal another kiss. Slower and softer, the lust dissolves into something sweeter. Strong arms wrap around you, and you’re rolled onto your side, pulled flush against Wrecker’s body as he pries his lips from yours. He smiles, and you can’t help but match it, a giggle bubbling up and out. The sound of Wrecker’s chuckle melds with yours, happiness simmering between you.

“You okay?” Wrecker asks, one hand smoothing across your cheek, cupping your face.

You lean into his touch with a small nod, eyes fluttering shut. Wrecker’s hand is warm against your face as he caresses you, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your cheek. The aftermath of shared intimacy leaves you feeling content and connected.

Overjoyed, Wrecker presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, hand sliding down your body to wrap back around you as he holds you close. Now he has you, he’s never going to let you go.

In the cocoon of his embrace, you slowly drift into a serene slumber, knowing you’ve found a sanctuary that feels like home in his arms.

Tag list: @clonethirstingisreal

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