angelicbloom

[angelicbloom]

I’m genuinely going insane

[angelicbloom]

Im barking…

oh man oh man oh man

[angelicbloom]

Literally me life already fees like a slow burn

“ You write too much smut”

HOE ION GOT TIME FOR SLOWBURN! GET ME TO THE NASTY SHIT NEOWWWWW

[angelicbloom]

Like I can goon with an understanding

[angelicbloom]

Reposting so I can get a part 2

cowboy!abby x victorian princess!reader pt. 1

cw: mostly fluff but i guess it gets a tiny bit heated towards the end, abby is kinda mean at some point, abby is older, reader is a spoiled princess.

you were the daughter of the really powerful man in england which has granted you the title of princess, however you were known to be really bratty and have a strong attitude. you wouldn't go to your reading class, would try to run away as soon as you dad arranged you another marriage with your cousin etc. overall you just hated the royal life and wanted to have some fun.

but for your dad you were just ungrateful and bratty, which was okay before you went off one night to go to a pub and some peasants saw you kissing another woman. that was the last straw for your dad who decided to send you to america, in a farm that was owned by a close friend of him, he knew that back there, you wouldn't cause anymore problems to the royal family.

so after three weeks of long and exhausting travelling, you finally arrived to the farm your father sent you to, and you weren't exactly happy about that. that as until you saw the woman who runs that farm. tall, blonde, big muscles rather masculine and older than you. that woman looked like she came out of one of your wet dreams and suddenly you were happy about your dad sending you here.

"name's abby and i run this farm, your dad sent ya here as a part of your punishment right?"

"oh yeah- i guess so.." you said, looking up at her.

"follow me i'll show you your room."

she then walked to the house without even offering to carry some of your many bags.

"um would you mind giving me a hand?" you asked her like she was stupid.

"come on you have like three bags and i'm sure you can handle yourself"

you huff, trying to gather your three bags in your hands, god she was lucky she was so hot because if not she would've been a pain. when she opens the door of your tiny room, you're met with a single bed with one pillow and a few covers, a desk and a small wardrobe. you looked at the place in defeat.

"is there anyway i can get at least a king sized?" you asked abby innocently, referring to the bed.

she then chuckled, walking away back to the kitchen. "this ain't england hun, you'll deal with what i give ya." she said not even turning around to look at you.

"ugh." you huffed before starting to put away your things in the small bedroom. but not even 10 minutes after that, abby was back at your door, "come here i'll show u what u want u to do around here everyday." she said as she watched you fold some pink and white clothes she knew damn well wouldn't stay that color. "and maybe we should buy you some other clothes because i'm not sure ya want to take those to the pigpen darling."

all of the nicknames she gave you made it impossible for you to act bratty with her, it was like she had some control on you. "i mean yeah? but i thought i would only give out hay and stuff like that?"

she laughed before setting you back down on earth "hell no, you're gonna have your feet in mud. come on we'll go in town to buy some useful clothes." you sighed before following outside. she then jumped on one of two horses that were standing outside. "oh we're going to town horse riding?" you asked her in disbelief. "do you not have a carriage?"

"do you not know how to ride a horse?" she asked sarcastically.

"okay okay.." you said before getting on the other horse.

the ride to town was like 10 minutes, which with abby were 10 minutes of pure silence, you tried to ask her a few questions and make small talk but oh well.

once in town she took you to a store, claiming that you'll probably find clothes to your liking in here. and you did, that cowboy style was kinda growing on you. you got boots, two or three pair of jeans, and cute flannel tops with ruffles, you also found a cute sundress which you had to try on. abby was waiting for you this whole time so you decided to ask her opinion on the dress you had tried on.

"hey abby look at that", you said to her, getting out of the dressing room to show her the dress, it's wasn't that short but it was an over the knees length which was new for you but you didn't hate it.

she walked towards the dressing room to take a good look at you. "oh that looks nice, be careful tho the men in town won't let you go if they see you like that." she said with a grin. you frowned to that, "oh i do not want the men to notice me don't worry."

she raised her eyebrows "oh yeah? well okay then, come on we gotta go back to the farm." she quickly said before turning back around letting you change back and pay for your items.

once back at the farm, you changed into some new jeans and another more comfortable top abby gave you because you still missed a few.

back down, abby told her to follow her as she was taking you to the pigpen, "okay ima need you to clean that place, i didn't have the time to and yeah it's rlly gross, there's buckets of water outside, good luck.", she said before going back to her horses.

"um excuse me? why are you making me clean that for my first task?? can't i.. i don't know check if the cows are okay and give them water? i don't want to do this ugh"

you start complaining and abby did not like that a single bit. "listen to me princess, your daddy sent you here for a reason, and i'm the one in charge here, you'll do as i say okay?" she says without stuttering and looking down into your eyes.

"and what if i don't want to?"

abby waited a few seconds to walk back towards you, looking at you up and down, wondering how was she going to put her words right for you to understand.

"oh the princess doesn't want to do what she came here for? okay maybe you're not gonna want to eat tonight or maybe you're not gonna want to clean yourself after the day? because i'm the one who pays for that shit i can decide wether you're gonna use them or not, got it?"

abby genuinely seemed pissed off, like she definitely wouldn't take no for an answer, after all she only did a favor to your dad, taking you with her, so she didn't have to be patient with you, it wasn't her part of the deal.

"okay then.." you said in defeat, looking down at the floor.

"good. there's a rake, bucks of water and you can put what needs to be thrown away behind the pigpen." she told, not leaving room for protests as she finally went back to take care of her horses.

the next two hours was like hell for you. you never knew a pigpen could be that dirty, and that pigs would get in the way so much, but you could say you did good work, and you were proud of yourself.

you finally decided to go back to abby, telling her you finished taking care of the pigpen. and all she had to say was "took you long enough". you couldn't help yourself but feel a bit hurt as you did your best, but when she saw how the place was clean and you did great she told you to go back inside, get clean and get ready for dinner.

a few days had passed after the incident, farm work was still annoying and hard for you, but you were finally getting to know abby better and growing closer to her, you would tell her stories from when you lived in england, and she would tell you stuff she did when she was younger as she was about 8years older than you. and after figuring out you both liked women, some flirting took place inside the farm.

abby showing you how to actually ride a horse, not in the princess way, which implied her having her hands on your hips, and you couldn't say you didn't like it. you also started teasing her with that new sundress you got the other day. one day she was doing the dishes and that's when you decided to sit on the counter beside her, your dress riding up and letting her see your thighs pretty well.

"what do ya need doll?" she would say. which you would respond with something along the lines of "oh nothing, 'just like watching you", and that made the well composed abby blush, a sight you don't see often.

"you're gonna drive me crazy with that dress." she simply says, and you are surprised but very happy to hear it.

so you put a hand on her shoulder softly, "what if that's what i want to do hm?" you admit, voice full of confidence after abby's revelation.

without thinking abby moves away from the sink to place her self in between your legs as you were still sat on the counter, and abby being tall made it that you guys were really face to face for once.

that act made you shiver, and you felt your heart beat into your chest, either from your nerves or the anticipation. abby was making it hard for you to compose yourself so you didn't think about what you were about to do.

"kiss me?" you tempted, with doe eyes which abby knew she couldn't resist before putting one of her hands under your chin, and kissing you hungrily, like she waited forever for that day to come.

when the kiss ended, both of yours and abby's lips were swollen from the intensity of the kiss.

"should we take this to my bedroom yeah? i have a king sized" she winked, mocking you for the first day you got here. you playfully hit her, "just take me upstairs", abby chuckled at that before carrying you bridal style.

an: should i continue this into a part 2?

[angelicbloom]

Literally traumatized me the first time it happened

"holy shit they finally confessed, what comes next--"

[angelicbloom]

I simply don’t know how my friends dont get it

the finest of fine shits

[angelicbloom]

Me rn:

Request from: @footy-lover264

Say Something

KK Arnold x shy fem!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: After an opponent humiliates you during a game, you shut down completely—silent, withdrawn, hurting. KK Arnold, who’s secretly obsessed with you, refuses to let that slide.

Genre: Fluff, smut, chaos, slow-burn tenderness, protective love

Warnings: Verbal humiliation (from opponent), emotional shutdown, sexual content (later), swearing, protective team dynamics

Word Count ~ 3.3k

It was bad. Not because you lost the game—but because of what they said.

You never talked much to begin with. Everyone on the UConn team knew that. You were sweet, soft-spoken, always nervous during warm-ups and whispering “thank you” when someone passed you the aux. The kind of teammate who left snacks in lockers but never claimed them. You weren’t loud. You weren’t bold. But you were present. Gentle. Quiet. Kind.

And then that girl—number 15 from the other team—said something under her breath when she stole the ball from you. Loud enough for you to hear it. Loud enough that it landed like a slap.

It happened fast. And I don’t even remember the exact score. All I remember is her voice.

The opposing guard had already been shadowing me all game—pressuring, bumping shoulders, talking trash like she got paid by the word. I ignored most of it. That’s what I do. I play quiet. I exist quiet. Even my jump shot is quiet. But when I missed a pass and she stole it clean, she turned to me just as she took off for the fast break, and said loud enough for me to hear:

“Y’all carrying her like a charity case. She don’t even talk, let alone score.”

She laughed. The worst part? Nobody else heard it. Just me. Just enough for her to cut through my ribs and make the inside of my chest feel cold.

And I didn’t say a word. I didn’t retaliate. Didn’t foul. Didn’t play the second half with fire in my eyes like some sports movie montage. No.

I shut down.

I finished the game barely making eye contact with my own teammates. I handed in my practice jersey at the end and walked out of the locker room like I was floating underwater. Like the walls were too bright and the floor too loud.

I don’t think I’ve spoken since.

KK noticed. Of course she did. She’s loud. She’s wild. She’s funny in the kind of way that always finds its way to me—cutting through the noise. And she’s been trying to get me to talk since the day I stepped on campus.

“Why you so quiet, huh?” she asked once, leaning against my locker with a red Gatorade and a smile like she already knew the answer.

I didn’t answer then, either. Just gave her the smallest shrug and stared at the floor.

But she kept coming. Kept talking to me. Kept making jokes with her hoodie half-off and her eyes always watching me like I was something rare. Like I was a puzzle she couldn’t put down.

And now, a few days after that game, she’s looking at me like she’s watching me disappear.

Practice is a blur.

I go through the drills like I’m sleepwalking. I nod when spoken to. I run the plays. I don’t mess up. But I don’t exist either. I’m a shadow wearing sneakers. A ghost who used to make soft passes and blush when KK called me “sweetheart.”

I feel her watching me. Every drill. Every sideline shuffle. Every time I pick up my water bottle, I see her eyes, sharp and quiet, flicking in my direction like she’s holding something in her chest.

At the end of practice, I’m about to sneak out when I hear her voice behind me.

“Can I talk to you?” I turn slow, my hoodie already half up.

KK’s standing there, arms crossed, hair tied up, sweat still on her neck. She’s not smiling.

“Wanna tell me what’s up?”

I shake my head. “I’m fine.”

Her eyes narrow. “That’s not fine. You haven’t said more than five words since Friday. You barely look at us. You didn’t even touch your cereal bar this morning, and I know damn well you like the strawberry ones.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. She steps closer, lowering her voice. “Somebody say somethin’ to you?” I don’t answer. I can’t.

“Was it that number fifteen girl?” she asks. “The one that kept fouling you and smirkin’? You want me to fight her? I’ll fight her.”

That makes my lips twitch. Barely. KK leans in a little, her voice soft now. “C’mon. Say something. Just to me. You always talk to me.”

I shake my head again. Her jaw clenches. She sighs through her teeth. “Alright. Cool. You wanna be silent? Bet. I’ll just annoy the hell outta you until you crack.”

The next day, she starts. She knocks on my dorm door at 6:57 a.m. Holding a smoothie and a pack of those overpriced strawberry bars.

“I know your schedule. You start crying in the shower when you skip breakfast.”

I take the smoothie with shaking fingers. Still say nothing.

“Okay. Strong silent type,” she mutters. “I can work with that.”

She shows up again after class. Takes my tray at lunch and sits next to me. Talks to herself like it’s a performance.

“So I was thinking,” she says, tapping her fork on her salad, “if I got on one knee in front of the whole cafeteria and proposed fake marriage, then would you speak?”

She looks at me. I blink. She leans closer. “How ‘bout a little tongue click? Morse code? Blink twice if you think I’m fine.”

I blink twice—accidentally. She gasps. “AHA. Got her. I knew it.” I look away, cheeks hot. She leans back in triumph. “Still got it.”

A few more days pass like that. And then it happens. We’re alone. After practice. Locker room. The others already gone. She lingers by my locker, messing with the laces on her shoes.

“You know you don’t gotta do that, right?” she says finally. I look at her. My lips part, but no sound.

“Shut yourself down ‘cause somebody said some outta-pocket bullshit,” she continues. “That don’t help nobody. You play like you trying to disappear and I hate it.”

I shift my weight. My throat aches.

She stands up. “I miss your voice. Your real voice. Not that scared one. The soft one you use when you talk about music. Or when I catch you laughing at practice and pretend not to notice.”

My hands are shaking. KK looks at me, eyes steady. “I miss you.”

“I heard her.”I whisper it.

She goes still. “You heard who?”

“Number fifteen. She said I was dead weight.” My voice cracks. “That I don’t talk. That I don’t belong.”

KK’s eyes go dark. Her fists clench like she’s trying not to punch the lockers.

“She said what?”

I sniff. “She wasn’t wrong.” KK grabs my wrist. Gently.

“Don’t say that.”

I look up, finally meeting her eyes.

“You are not dead weight. You’re the reason we breathe easier. You’re the calm. The quiet that makes everything better. You’re the one I look for first when I hit a three. You matter.”

My chest tightens.

“And,” she adds, stepping in close, her voice dropping, “I been in love with you for months. So even if that girl dropped thirty points, she could never touch what you do for this team. For me.”

I blink fast.

“Say something,” she whispers.

“I think I’m in love with you too,” I breathe.

KK smiles. “I knew it.”

It started immediately. Like, immediately.

I barely got the confession out before KK puffed her chest like she won the NCAA and a Grammy in the same week. She smiled so hard it almost looked painful—too many teeth, dimples sharp, head tilted like, “You sure? You positive? You wanna say it again, just for me?”

And now, fifteen minutes later, I can’t breathe without her acting like we’ve been married for three years and she pay the bills.

“I knew it,” she says again, bumping my shoulder with hers as we walk down the hallway. “Didn’t I say that? Like, didn’t I already tell you you mine?”

“You did not.”

“Did too. At least five times. I’ve been callin’ you baby since Halloween.”

I glance over. “You call everybody baby.”

She gasps. “That’s slander. You the only baby I got.”

I’m blushing. Of course I am. I’ve been blushing since I told her I might be in love with her. And now? She’s insufferable.

She wraps her arm around my shoulders like we been doing this, walking close, her fingers rubbing gentle circles against the back of my neck. It’s sweet. It’s soft. It makes my skin feel warm in the best way.

“Don’t think you slick,” she adds, still smirking. “I been knew you liked me.”

“Oh, really?”

“You blink too much when I’m near you. That’s the first giveaway.”

I roll my eyes, smiling despite myself.

“You got any other tells, Miss FBI?”

“You hold your breath when I hug you,” she says smugly. “And you smile into your water bottle when I compliment your passes.”

“…You really been watching me like that?”

She shrugs. “I got taste.”

Back in my dorm, it’s even worse.

I sit on the edge of the bed, hoodie still on, still trying to calm my pulse. KK takes off her shoes like she lives here, drops onto the bed next to me, and immediately throws her legs across mine.

“Comfy,” she sighs, settling against my shoulder.

“You’re heavy.”

“I’m affectionate.”

“You’re annoying.”

She kisses my cheek in response, soft and sudden, then looks proud of herself.

“I’m your girlfriend now, so.”

I laugh softly, leaning into her just enough to make her sigh in that smug little way again. It’s constant with her—the teasing, the touchiness, the dramatic displays of affection—but I know it’s all rooted in realness. KK isn’t just playing.

She’s here. She’s mine. And she wants me to feel it. Her hands don’t stop moving. One slides under the hem of my hoodie, fingertips dragging along the skin just above my waistband. It’s innocent. Kind of.

But also not.

“Still not used to you being this quiet,” she says, voice low.

“You spent the whole day with me.”

“And you said, what, three words?” She kisses my neck this time, slow and warm. “Gimme five. C’mon. Just five lil words.”

I breathe out through my nose. “You’re… annoying. But sweet.”

She gasps dramatically. “Six! Look at you bein’ an overachiever.”

Her hand rests on my thigh now, rubbing slow. She’s not trying to start anything—not yet. But the tension in my belly is rising. I think she feels it too. She’s looking at me different now. Her smile’s faded into something quieter. Deeper.

“I like making you talk,” she says.

“I know.”

“I like makin’ you feel good too.”

I swallow. She’s close now, one leg between mine, one hand still resting on my thigh like it belongs there.

“KK—”

She leans in. Kisses me again.This time it’s longer. Slower. I melt into it. Her hands go to my waist, pulling me closer, and suddenly I’m straddling her, hoodie pushed up just enough to feel my skin under her fingertips.

“You sure?” she murmurs, breath brushing against my lips.

I nod.

It starts slow. Because she wants it to.

Not because she’s shy. Not even close. KK’s bold in the way people who don’t bluff are bold. She just doesn’t want to mess it up. She’s got her hands on me now, and I can feel how much she’s holding back.

Her lips are at my jaw. Soft kisses, not rushed. The weight of her on my lap is light, easy. She’s straddling me like we’ve done this before, like her body already knows how to move with mine. Her hoodie’s halfway off her shoulder, and her eyes are low, but she hasn’t gone lower.

Yet. Her hands rest just above my hips. Barely touching. Barely there.

“You good?” she murmurs against my cheek.

I nod, breath catching. “Yeah.”

She kisses my neck again. A little deeper. A little slower. Then licks the skin just under my ear like she knows what that does to me—because she does. She’s been paying attention. She knows I don’t always speak, but my body? My body talks loud.

KK pulls back just enough to look at me, her lips shining slightly. Her eyes searching.

“You want this?” I nod again. “Please.”

That does it. That word. That voice. Her whole demeanor shifts—still gentle, still careful, but now? Now there’s purpose.

“My baby was sad,” she whispers, brushing her nose against mine. “Now I gotta make her happy.” She says it like a vow. Like it’s personal.

She moves down slow. Kisses my throat, then the curve of my collarbone. Her hands slide up under my hoodie and lift it, waiting for me to raise my arms. I do. She tosses it aside. I’m bare under it. My breath catches again, but KK doesn’t gawk.

She stares like she’s seeing something sacred.

“God,” she murmurs, pressing her forehead to my chest. “I’ve been thinkin’ about you for so long.”

I don’t ask what she means. Because I already know. She starts kissing again—between my breasts, along the underside. Her hands roam slow, soft, never too much. She’s teasing without being cruel. Touching without taking.

Then she lowers. Kisses my stomach. My waist. The dip of my hip. She pulls at my waistband, looks up at me again.

“You sure?” I nod.

“No, baby. I want you to say it.”

“Yes, KK. I want you.”

That smile again. She slides my sweats down gently, trailing her hands along my thighs. She spreads them slow, still fully dressed herself. Her hands grip just above my knees, and for a second, she just looks.

I squirm. “KK…”

“I’m here,” she says softly. “I got you.”

Then she leans in.

The first lick is gentle. Just her tongue pressed flat against me, slow and warm. I gasp. My thighs twitch. She smiles against me and does it again—up and down, just enough pressure to make me start falling apart.

She doesn’t tease too long. Doesn’t make me beg. She wants me to feel good. That’s it. That’s the whole mission.

Her mouth finds my clit, and she sucks gently—then a little harder. My hips jerk. Her hands slide under my thighs to hold me in place.

She moans softly into me. Like she likes the way I taste. Like she’d stay here for hours. And god… maybe she would.

“KK—” I gasp, my hand reaching down to her head, fingers sliding into her curls.

She hums again. It vibrates. I arch off the bed, mouth open, no sound coming out. I’m too far gone. Too sensitive.

She keeps going. Lips soft but unrelenting. Tongue circling, licking, sucking, over and over until my entire body is shaking. I cry out. I can’t help it.

She holds me tighter. Slides her arms under my thighs and pulls me closer, mouth never leaving me. I don’t even realize I’m cumming until my vision blurs.

It hits me in a wave—hot, hard, shaking. My toes curl. My chest arches. I moan her name over and over, breathless, broken, gone.

And she doesn’t stop. Not until I whimper her name again, this time softer.

“KK… baby… too much…” Only then does she pull away. Kisses the inside of my thigh once. Then again. Then crawls back up over me.

My chest is rising fast. I’m covered in sweat. My eyes are wet. I think I might still be shaking. She cups my face. Her lips kiss mine, soft and warm, letting me taste myself.

“You okay?” she whispers.

I nod, but my voice is still gone.

She smiles. “Good. You ain’t gotta talk. Just hold me.”

I do. Because I’m hers now. Fully. Completely. And god, I’ve never felt more wanted in my life.

The next morning, I was supposed to be getting dressed. Keyword: supposed to be.

KK was already up. Hair half up half down , hoodie on, like she was about to go do a press conference on ESPN. I was still tangled in the blankets, face half in the pillow, watching her from the bed like I’d been hit by a train full of orgasms.

She turned from the mirror, checking herself out one last time, and caught me staring. She smirked.

“What?” I mumbled, still sleepy, still wrecked.

“You look pretty like that,” she said. “All lazy and stretched out.”

I blinked at her, blinking slow. “Get away from me.”

She laughed. “You gon’ keep acting like I didn’t eat you like a full-course meal last night?”

My whole face heated. She walked over to the bed, dragging a hand along the edge of the mattress. I was already scooting back, and she hadn’t even touched me yet.

“Lay down,” she said casually, reaching out and dragging me back into the center of the bed by the waist. “Just for a sec.”

“KK…” I breathed, wide-eyed.

“You said you liked being spoiled.”

“I didn’t say all day.”

She grinned, biting her lip. “You gon’ complain or you gon’ cum?” I blinked.

She leaned in closer. “Exactly.”

She didn’t even take her hoodie off. She was fully dressed, warm palms pressing into my thighs as she parted them slow, like she was tucking me back in bed to rest—but we both knew better.

“Let me make you feel good,” she whispered.

“Again?”

She nodded. “Especially again.”

Her mouth was on me before I could say anything else. She didn’t warm up this time. She already knew my body. Already had the map. Her tongue slid through my folds like she’d been craving it since the second she left the bed. My hips bucked instinctively.

KK held me down with one arm, the other wrapped around my thigh, anchoring me to the mattress. I cried out—soft, breathless. Already close. Already too sensitive.

She moaned against me. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

I clutched at the sheets, whimpering, panting, gasping every time her tongue circled just right. I was close in minutes. Not even that.

“K-KK—oh my god—” She didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow down. She wanted this.

My thighs shook, back arched, eyes rolling back as I came with a ragged moan. My second of the morning. My fourth overall since last night. And it still wasn’t enough for her.

She pulled back for a second, kissed my inner thigh, then rested her cheek there, smiling.

“One more.”

“KK—”

“One more and you can nap. I swear.”

She didn’t give me a chance to agree or protest. She just slid two fingers inside me, slow and deep, and started stroking like she knew exactly where I needed it.

She did. Because I gasped. Full body shuddered. KK climbed up to kiss me—mouth still wet, eyes hungry—and whispered into my mouth: “You wanna cum again, don’t you?”

I moaned.

“Say it.”

“…I wanna cum.”

“Good girl.”

She kept fingering me while she kissed me, slow and filthy, letting me grind into her palm, letting me lose myself. When I came again, it was quiet. No scream. No arch.

Just my body going still. My jaw slack. My whole soul slipping out my mouth. And KK kissing me sweetly like she hadn’t just ruined me.

“You glowing,” she whispered. “I ain’t even playin’. Look at you. All soft and pretty and wrecked.”

I was panting, eyes glassy. “I can’t feel my legs.”

She chuckled. “You don’t need ‘em right now.”

A few hours later, we finally make it to the team brunch. Paige raises a brow the second we walk in.

“You good?” she asks, eyes flicking to my neck. Then my legs.

KK’s arm wraps tighter around my waist. “She’s great. Slept like a baby.”

Ice stifles a laugh. “You sure? She glowing like she took a spa trip.”

KK smirks. “That’s just hydration and proper attention.” I nudge her, blushing.

She leans down and kisses my cheek in front of everybody. “Tell ‘em you feel good, baby.” I do. And for once, I say it out loud.

“I feel really good.”

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin

[angelicbloom]

Love being feed everyday by pagie writers

SHES SAFE WITH ME

♡— pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

♡— warning: this mini series contains smut, fluff, and angst. this is a stepmom x stepdaughter FICTION. if you don’t like that then simply do not read.

♡— synopsis: you’re home for summer break and only now do you actually get to know your mom’s latest girlfriend.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

♡— a/n: hopefully i will see this through and won’t forget about it and hopefully you all enjoy it!!! i may be making changes as i go so if you saw the outline just know that it’s liable to change…

[angelicbloom]

I LOVE MY HOBBY

𓂃 cherry saviour

loser!ellie x reader — the first time ellie kissed you was because of your cherry flavored chapstick.

cw. weed. guarded feelings. yearning. first kiss. sensual tension.

ellie is never one to show emotions, always the same awkward ellie you’ve known since you rolled into jackson.

she’s your chill smoke buddy, the one you share blunts with in the dead of winter, huddled in her drafty garage, passing stories about the day’s bullshit.

but tonight, as the snow piles up outside, ellie’s not really listening to your words, her eyes keep drifting, catching on your lips, and every time she takes the blunt, her lips linger, savoring the faint cherry chapstick you left behind.

“so, get this.” you say leaning back. “joel caught me sneaking extra bread from the mess hall, and he’s all.. you gonna share that? like, dude, you’re not my dad.” you laugh, shaking your head, but ellie’s response is a half hearted chuckle, her eyes on the blunt as she brings it to her lips.

“yeah, joel’s a nag.” she mumbles, inhaling slow, too slow, her lips pressing longer than necessary, like she’s chasing something more than the weed.

she exhales, smoke curling up, and passes it back, her fingers brushing yours, lingering a second too long, you catch it, the way her gaze flicks to your mouth, quick and guilty, before she looks away, fidgeting with her sleeve.

“you even listenin?” you tease, taking a drag, your voice playful as you blow smoke toward her, watching it swirl in the cold air. “or you just high already?”

ellie snorts, rolling her eyes, but her cheeks flush, barely noticeable in the dim light. “im listenin.” she says, too quick, her voice a little rough.

“just… distracted, i guess.” she scratches her neck and you grin, nudging her knee with yours. “distracted, huh?” you say, smirking, passing the blunt back. “what’s got you so spacey, williams? got a crush or somethin?”

she tenses, her fingers fumbling the blunt. “fuck off dude.” she mutters, her lips twitching into a shy smile as she takes another drag, her lips lingering again tasting the cherry chapstick.

she exhales, slow, her eyes flicking to yours holding a beat too long, you lean closer, your voice dropping. “you keep hoggin’ that blunt.” you say tilting your head, your hair falling over one shoulder. “you tryna taste me thru that blunt?” rlllie freezes, her eyes widening, caught.

“what? no, i—” she stammers her voice cracking, and you laugh loving how she’s tripping over herself. “relax, els.” you say, scooting closer, your thigh brushing hers, the couch creaking.

“im just messin with you.” but you’re not, not really, because you see it now—the way she’s looking at you, all nervous, her fingers twitching like she wants to reach out but won’t, she swallows, hard, the blunt forgotten in her hand, smoke curling up between you.

“you, uh… you wear that chapstick all the time.” she says, her voice low and all hesistant “cherry, right? its… nice.” your heart skips, catching the vulnerability in her words, the way she’s staring at your lips, not even hiding it now.

“yeah?” you murmur leaning closer, your faces inches apart. “you like it, ellie?” she nods, barely, her breath hitching, her eyes locked on yours full of want and fear. “yeah,” she whispers, her voice rough.

“i… fuck, i really do.” she’s shaking just a little, and you feel it too. “can i…” she starts her voice cracking, and you know what she’s asking, know she’s too awkward to say it straight, you smile closing the gap, your lips brushing hers, giving her the chance to pull back.

“yeah, ellie..” you whisper, your breath warm against her lips.

“you can.” she surges forward, kissing you, clumsy at first, all eager and nervous, her lips soft but insistent, tasting like weed and her, you kiss back, deeper, your hand sliding to her jaw, guiding her, and she moans, a soft, needy sound that sends heat through you.

her hands find your waist, hesitant but gripping, pulling you closer, the blunt dropping to the floor. “fuck.” she murmurs against your lips, her voice shaky, breaking the kiss to catch her breath, her forehead pressed to yours.

“you… you taste like cherry, fuck, it’s so good.” she’s rambling, and you laugh, soft, kissing her again, slower, savoring her little gasps.

“easy, els.” you murmur, your fingers in her hair, tugging gently, and she whimpers, her hands tightening on your waist, like she’s scared you’ll pull away.

“you’re doin’ fine, baby.” you deepen the kiss your tongue brushing hers, and she moans louder, a needy, desperate sound, her body pressing closer, the couch creaking under you.

“sorry.” she mumbles, pulling back, her cheeks red, her eyes glassy. “wanna keep goin’?” you ask, checking, your hand on her cheek, and she nods, fast, leaning in, kissing you again, less clumsy.

you shift straddling her lap, your hands in her hair, and she groans, low and soft, her hands sliding to your hips, gripping to anchore herself. “fuck, you’re… you’re so…” she trails off, kissing your neck, her lips warm, and you tilt your head, giving her more. “keep talkin ellie.” you tease and she chuckles, kissing your jaw.

“can’t.” she murmurs. “you’re too… fuck, too much.” she kisses you again.

[angelicbloom]

I love having a full belly and these writers always feed me

Your Mine

Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: You don’t just want her—you need her. Paige calls it a game, claims it’s harmless, but you know better.

Genre: Toxic romance · Smut · Psychological obsession

Warnings: Possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, smut, obsession, jealousy, toxic dynamics

Word Count~ 4.1k

She’s the first person I look for in every room. Always has been.

There’s something about the way Paige moves—like the world pauses for her, and she doesn’t even notice. People trip over themselves just to be near her. They laugh too hard at her jokes, ask questions they already know the answers to, call her “Bueckers” like it makes them part of something. And she entertains it. Smiles. Plays along. Sweet little Paige.

But when the lights go down and the crowd fades—she comes home to me. She always comes back.

I think that’s what makes it beautiful. The fact that she chooses me, over and over. They don’t know what her voice sounds like when it breaks. They don’t see her fall apart, shaking, gasping, holding onto my wrist like she’ll drown if I let go. That version of her only I get to see.

And I do. I see all of her. I keep all of her.

She’s curled up next to me now, head resting on my thigh, scrolling on her phone while I rub lazy circles on the inside of her knee. Her hair’s still damp from her post-practice shower. The smell of her skin—warm lotion and cheap hotel soap—makes my mouth water.

“You tired?” I ask, my voice calm. She nods without looking up. “Mmhm. Long day.”

I hum and lean down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. So soft. So good for me. So mine.

“Want me to rub your back?” I ask sweetly. Gentle.

She smiles. “Please.”

And I do. Of course I do. I take care of her. I always take care of her. Even when she forgets how lucky she is.

Even when she flirts too much after games. Even when her eyes linger too long on someone else’s shoes, someone else’s smile. Even when she gets too comfortable thinking I won’t notice.

But I do. I notice everything.

I let it slide because she doesn’t mean it. That’s the thing about Paige—she’s soft. She needs to feel wanted. So I let her feel it, just enough to keep her sweet, before I take her home and remind her what real love looks like. What devotion feels like when it sinks into your ribs and never lets go.

I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, slow and careful. She shivers under my touch.

“I missed you today,” she says quietly.

I smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “Did you?”

She looks up. “Of course.”

My hand tightens just slightly around her hip. She doesn’t notice.

“Who were you with after practice?” I ask lightly, like it’s nothing.

Her brows pinch. “Nobody—just the team. Why?”

“Just wondering.” I kiss her forehead. She believes me. She always believes me.

That’s the funny part. She calls me chill. Says I’m laid-back, “different from the others.” But if she knew the things I’d done just to keep her close? If she saw the burner account I use to check who she follows, the screenshots I keep for insurance? If she heard how I talk about her when she’s asleep in my bed, mouth parted, legs tangled in mine like a promise she doesn’t know she’s making—

She’d run. Maybe. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe some part of her likes it. The way I watch her. The way I touch her. The way I claim her without ever needing to ask.

Her phone buzzes and I glance at the screen before she can turn it over. It’s some girl from a podcast, heart emoji in the notification.

“Don’t answer that,” I say, soft but firm.

She pauses. Looks at me. “…Why?”

“Because you’re with me,” I murmur, sliding my hand under her sweatshirt. “And I’m not in the mood to share.”

She laughs—thinks I’m joking. She’s so cute when she doesn’t get it. She’ll learn.

I don’t get jealous. Not really. It’s not jealousy if you know someone’s already yours. It’s not insecurity if you’re just aware. If you’re paying attention. And I always pay attention.

So when I saw her talking to that girl after the game—some tall, pretty thing with gloss on her lips and dumb, eager eyes—I didn’t get mad. I just watched. I watched the way Paige laughed a little too long, stood a little too close. I counted the seconds, measured the space between them. Noticed the way she kept tucking her hair behind her ear like she wanted to be looked at.

She was being careless. And that’s fine. She’s allowed to make mistakes. But she’s not allowed to lie to me.

We didn’t talk in the car. Not on the ride back, not walking through the hallway, not while I got undressed and left my hoodie on the floor like I wanted her to see it. She followed, of course. She always follows.

And when the door shut behind us, I finally turned.

“What was that?” I asked. Voice low. Calm.

Paige blinked. “What was what?”

“So you’re gonna act dumb now?” I smiled. Tilted my head.

“I talked to a girl. That’s not a crime.”

“No,” I said, nodding. “It’s not a crime. It’s just disrespectful.”

“Disrespectful?” she repeated, already defensive. “You’re not my mom, y/n.”

That switch in my chest flipped and everything went cold. I turned my back to her and walked toward the bed, quiet. Calm. Lifted the blanket, fluffed the pillow. Not even mad. Just distant.

“Okay,” I said, shrugging. “Then go ahead.”

“Go ahead what?”She hesitated.

“Go ahead and text her. Go be with her. I’m sure she’d love the attention. Maybe she’ll actually be grateful to be seen with you.”

Paige scoffed behind me. “Oh, come on—”

“No, really. Go. You clearly want someone new. Someone soft. Someone who doesn’t ask questions. You wanna be admired, not watched, right?”

I didn’t look at her, but I could hear it—the breath caught in her throat, the quiet shift of her weight.

“Y/n…”

I exhaled, sharp. “You think I need you? I don’t. I like having you. That’s different.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“I know.”

She was crying now. She didn’t want me to see, but I could hear it in her voice.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” she said, softer. “I didn’t even ask for her number.”

I didn’t say anything. I just sat at the edge of the bed, my legs spread, hands resting on my thighs. Letting it hang in the air like I was done. Like she’d have to crawl back and beg. And she did.

She stood in front of me, blinking through tears, arms folded over her chest like she was trying to hold herself together.

“I’m sorry, okay?” she whispered. “I wasn’t thinking.”

I looked up, finally. Met her eyes. And something in her broke.

I didn’t say a word. Just reached up, hooked my fingers in the waistband of her sweats, and pulled her forward.

She gasped when I kissed her—deep, hard, unforgiving. My hands slid over her ass, her hips, and I pushed her back onto the mattress without another word.

“I hate when you cry,” I murmured, kissing down her stomach. “But I love making it better.” She didn’t resist. She never does.

I pulled her sweats down slow, then her underwear—wet already, even through the shame. She always gets like this when she thinks I’m slipping away. Desperate. Needy. Like she’s scared of what I’ll do without her.

And I use it. Of course I do.

I start slow. Kisses to her thighs, soft licks that barely brush where she wants me. My breath hot and steady. My hands gripping her hips like she might float away if I let go.

“You’re mine,” I murmur, dragging my tongue up once. A slow, cruel stroke. “No one else gets to taste you like this.” She moans—quiet, cracked, like she doesn’t know if she should cry or bite her lip.

“Mm,” I hum against her, smiling against slick skin. “So ungrateful. Cryin’ like I didn’t just forgive you.” I look up, licking my lips slow. Her eyes meet mine and flicker like they’re begging for mercy I’m not about to give.

“This what you wanted that girl to do, huh?” I whisper, soft and venom-sweet, tongue dragging over her again. “Wanna flirt, then come back to me all dumb and sorry?”

Her hips twitch. A broken sound falls out of her mouth.

“You don’t even deserve this,” I say, licking her again—slower this time, deeper. I suck gently on her clit, just once, then stop. Pull back. Let the air touch her. Let her miss me.

She whines.

“Aww,” I coo, tilting my head, fingers digging into her thighs to keep her still. “Look at you. So pathetic. So messy. You gone cry again, baby?” She nods. A single, sharp motion.

“Yeah?” I lick her again, and this time I stay. I flatten my tongue and move in slow circles, letting the pressure build—then suck. Relentless. She gasps, back arching, hands tangled in the sheets.

But I don’t let up. I don’t let her run. My arms hold her down. My mouth drags moans out of her one after the next like confessions.

“Don’t you ever forget who owns this,” I growl, mouth still buried, voice dark and sticky like honey gone bad. “You need me. Say it.”

“I need you,” she sobs, wrecked and trembling.

“Louder.”

“I need you.”

And then I hum into her again, tongue ruthless, lips slick, chin soaked. She’s shaking now—can’t stop, can’t think, can’t breathe without it. And I just keep going.

I don’t stop ‘til she’s gone—mind blank, eyes wet, body limp, thighs twitching like she don’t know how to come down.

I kiss her softly once more, right on the clit like a goodbye. Like I’m sealing something shut. Then I crawl up slow, wipe my mouth, and lay over her chest, smug. Calm. Loving.

“I forgive you,” I whisper. “But don’t ever test me again.”

And when she curls into me, eyes closed, still crying a little—I let her.

Because she’s mine. And I take care of what’s mine.

She’s spiraling, and I can see it from a mile away. Not in some dramatic, meltdown kind of way—no. It’s subtle. Quiet. The kind of unraveling that only someone like me would notice. She’s off her rhythm. Missed two free throws last game. Hesitated on a fast break she normally eats alive. Dropped her bag walking into film like her body and mind weren’t in sync. That’s not like her.

And I know exactly why. It’s because I stopped loving her. Or at least, I told her I did.

I didn’t scream it. Didn’t cry. Just leaned back against her locker and said it like it meant nothing: “I don’t want you like that anymore.”

She didn’t believe me, not really. But the damage stuck. I watched it land in her chest, like a nail driven slow. And now she’s been trying everything to pull it out.

She’s in full-blown damage control. Buying my favorite smoothie from a place two cities over. Leaving notes in my hoodie pockets—dumb little things, sweet even, if I cared enough to smile. Always signed the same: Forever yours, even when you’re cruel.

And I am cruel. Cruel in the way I let her try. Cruel in the way I let her love me so obviously, so desperately, while I pretend not to care. She shows up with gifts. Pays for dinners. Touches me in public like we’re still us.

And I let her.

That’s the worst part—I let her. I let her plan a night out like it’ll fix anything. I show up in her passenger seat, let her open the door for me, let her order for me. And when she’s looking at me like I hung the moon and sky just for her, I glance at my phone and ask if she’s finished talking.

It breaks her every time. You can see it in her face. That slow wilt, the way her fingers start to twitch or her jaw sets like she’s swallowing a scream.

Then, like clockwork, she whispers, “I can make it up to you.”

Back at mine, she gets on her knees before the door’s even shut. She eats me out like her life depends on it. Like her tongue can undo the distance between us. She moans into me like it hurts, like it’s holy. I don’t stop her. I don’t say a word.

She keeps going until I finish, and then she looks up at me like she’s begging. Not for permission—but for something. A smile. A touch. Some sliver of softness.

I kiss her forehead. That’s all she gets. And she leans into it like it’s enough.

She doesn’t know that I already made my decision. Doesn’t know that I’m not here because I love her—I’m here because I own her. And the second I let her think she’s winning, it’s over.

So I don’t give her that. I let her crumble in the silence. Let her fall asleep on my chest, warm and wrecked, thinking she’s safe.

Because that’s the thing—she is safe. With me, she always is. But I’m not trying to be her safe place. I’m trying to be the reason she never stops running. And she doesn’t even realize she’s already lost the race.

She’s been trying so hard lately. Showing up early to practice, staying late like it’ll impress me. Posting thirst traps with captions that practically scream my name without saying it. She brings me coffee now. Gifts. Flowers. New hoodies she knows I’ll wear once just so she can smell them after.

It’s sad. Really. She’s trying to win me back like she ever had me. I let her chase. That’s what she’s good for.

She came over tonight after practice—soaking wet from rain, no umbrella, no jacket. Just Paige. Soaked and shaking, looking at me like a fucking puppy someone left on the curb.

“You didn’t answer any of my calls.”

“You still talking?”I just raise a brow from the couch.

Her mouth drops open, but she doesn’t argue. Not anymore. Not since the last time I left her crying on her knees. Tonight. She drops to them willingly.

“I’ll make it up to you,” she whispers, tugging at my sweats, hands trembling like I’m the last goddamn miracle on earth. “Please. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

I yawn. “You sound obsessed.”

“I am,” she breathes.

At least she’s honest.

She pulls my sweats down slow, kissing every inch of skin like it’s sacred, like her mouth was made to worship me. And when her lips hit my clit, I don’t flinch. I don’t praise her. I just stare down, blank-eyed, hand resting lazily on her head like I’m bored.

“Do it better.”

She whimpers. “I—I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

So she does. Licks deeper. Sucks slow. Uses her fingers like I taught her. It’s pathetic how much she remembers, how perfect she’s gotten at ruining me—because all she wants is my attention. Not love. Not approval. Just a sound. A sigh. A twitch of my fingers in her hair that says, “good girl.”

But I don’t give it to her. I don’t make a sound.

“You like this, right?” she whispers, lips wet, chin messy. “You taste so good… please, let me make you come. Let me do something right.”

I laugh. Low. Cruel. “You think you earned that?”

She moans like I slapped her. Digs her tongue in like she can fuck the hate out of me.

“Pathetic,” I whisper. “Look at you. So eager. This what you wanted that bitch to do? You smile in her face and come home to beg for scraps?”

“I didn’t—” she gasps.

I grab her hair and grind against her face. “You did. And now you’re gone prove how sorry you are.”

She takes it. All of it. Never stops licking. Never stops moaning. She’s crying by the time I come—loud and drawn out, head tossed back while she whimpers into my cunt like it’s salvation.

I pull away after, breathing steady. Look down at her flushed, ruined face. And I still don’t kiss her. Don’t hold her.

I just say, cool and easy, “You’re getting better. Still not enough.”

She nods, wiping her face. “I’ll keep trying.” I smirk.

“Yeah. You will.” Because this isn’t about love. It’s about power. I’ve got her begging for every drop.

She pissed me off. That’s all it takes, really. One wrong look. One slick comment. One second of her acting like she’s not mine. So I fucked somebody else. Simple.

Didn’t even try to hide it. Left the door unlocked. Made sure she’d walk in on it if she really cared. And when she did? I didn’t stop. Just looked at her while this girl—this nobody—was moaning in my ear like she’d never had it that good.

Paige froze.

She didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. Just stood there, clutching the bag she brought me—dumb little apology gift she probably spent all day thinking about.

I tilted my head and said it. Calm.

“She’s so wet for me. You never used to drip like this.” And that broke her. Right there in the doorway.

“You’re joking,” she whispered, voice shaking. I raised a brow, still inside the girl, still grinding slow like I had all the time in the world. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

She dropped the bag. It hit the floor with a soft thud.

I leaned down, kissed the girl’s shoulder, murmured loud enough for Paige to hear, “You feel so fucking good, baby. You want me to come inside you?”

The girl nodded, moaning, drunk off me. And Paige? She stepped back like she’d been shot. Like I hadn’t warned her. Like this wasn’t always going to happen if she kept testing me.

“Don’t look so surprised,” I said, lazily running my tongue across my bottom lip. “You knew what it was. I told you not to piss me off.”

“Is this because of—what I said?”

“No. This is because I can.”

She didn’t say anything after that. Just stood there, lips trembling, hands curled into fists like she was trying not to beg. Trying not to cry.

But baby, it was too late for that. I grabbed the girl’s hair, gave her one more thrust, then groaned, loud, on purpose. Paige flinched. When I finally pulled out, I stared her down—eyes cold, voice even colder.

“She was better,” I said. “But she ain’t you.” Then I smiled.

“Still… she didn’t waste my time.”

She turned and walked out. And I let her.

She came back shaking. Quiet. Eyes red but dry, like she already cried all the way from the car to the door and just didn’t have it in her anymore. She stood in the doorway like she was waiting for me to say something. Apologize. Flinch. Even blink wrong. Something that might mean I regretted it.

I didn’t.

I stayed right where I was—on the couch, blanket around my waist, phone in hand. Still smelled like the girl who left an hour ago. Vanilla and sweat. Paige could smell it too, I know she could. I wanted her to.

She dropped her bag by the door. “You’re not gonna say sorry?”

I looked up like I had to think about it. “For what, baby?”

And that’s when it started. The spiral. Her face twisted, all that held-in emotion collapsing into disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

I didn’t answer. Just shifted on the couch, stretched a little. My legs were sore—in a good way. “Why would I be sorry for something you caused?”

Her mouth opened, then closed again like her brain short-circuited. I stood, slow. Walked right past her like she was invisible. “You shouldn’t have pushed me.”

“I didn’t—” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t do anything but ask why you were ignoring me.”

“And now you know,” I cut in, turning toward her with that half-smile that always shut her down. “You were boring me. Constantly checking in, trying to impress me. Baby, I don’t want a fan. I want a girlfriend.”

She flinched like I hit her. I might as well have.

“You slept with someone else,” she whispered.

I leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Slept with? No. I fucked her.” I let that hang. Let the words dig their way into her ribs. “Bent her over the sink. She came twice.”

She covered her mouth like the truth physically hurt. Tears started to fall now, fast and silent. And I didn’t care. I just tilted my head. “What? You thought crying was gonna stop me from being honest?”

“You used to love me,” she croaked.

I blinked. “Maybe. But that was before you started acting like I couldn’t breathe without you. You forgot who I am.”

She picked up her bag. Threw it onto the bed like she couldn’t get out fast enough. Hands shaking, shoving shit into the duffel—her sweatshirt, her charger, the perfume I bought her last Christmas.

The whole time she kept glancing back at me like I’d change. Like I’d stop her. I didn’t.

“Keep packing, Paige. You’re cute when you’re heartbroken.”

She froze. “…I hate you.”

I walked over, slow and steady, then leaned in, brushing her cheek with my fingers like I was still sweet. “I’m sure you do.”

She shoved my hand away and kept packing. No more words. Just pain. And that’s the thing—she thought this was a breakup. It wasn’t.

This was me reminding her she was never in control.

It’d been months since I touched her.

Not that she stopped trying—texts left on read, late-night calls I let ring just to hear her voice on voicemail. Her name would light up, soft and blue, and I’d just watch it fade. Never blocked. Never ignored. Just… unbothered.

Her stats were dropping. She was quiet at practice. Snapping at teammates who used to feel like sisters. And I knew why. Of course I knew. But I let it ride.

I’d see her sometimes. Across the court, or during walk-ins. She’d always look at me like she was starving. Like she hadn’t eaten in weeks and I was the last thing that ever tasted like home.

So when the knock came—slow, shaky, familiar—I didn’t even check the peephole. I just opened it, leaned on the frame, and raised a brow.

Paige was standing there with wet lashes, lips bitten pink, and a duffle slung over one shoulder. Like she didn’t know whether to beg or just fall into me.

“Can I come in?” she asked, voice thin. I didn’t move. I let her stand there in it. That regret. That ache.

“I shouldn’t’ve done what I did,” she added, a little more breathless. “I wasn’t right. But I miss you. And I love you. And I’m sorry.”

“Mmm,” I hummed. “You say that every time.”

Her eyes dropped. Her fingers curled around the strap of her bag like it might hold her together.

“I know. I just… I thought maybe—”

“Thought maybe I’d fall back into your arms ‘cause you cried a little?” I stepped aside anyway, slow. “Go head.”

She didn’t hesitate. Dropped her bag, walked past like she belonged, and stood in the middle of my living room like she was waiting for a verdict.

“Tell me what you want,” I said, voice quiet. Dangerous.

Her lip trembled. “You. Just you.”

“For how long?” I tilted my head. “Until the next pretty girl makes you feel powerful again? Or until I stop fucking you like you deserve it?”

Her face twisted like it hurt. Good. It should.

“Baby…” she whispered, walking closer. “I haven’t even looked at anyone. I’ve been trying. I’ve been showing up. I’ve been—”

“Failing,” I cut in. “You’ve been failing, Paige. That’s what you’ve been doing.” Tears hit her cheeks. She took a breath like it hurt to even stand.

And still—I let her reach for me. Let her wrap her arms around my waist, press her face to my chest like she needed the heartbeat to survive.

“I’ll do better,” she promised. “Whatever it takes.”

I brushed a hand through her hair, soft. Gentle. Almost tender.

“Shh,” I murmured. “It’s okay.”

She relaxed for the first time in weeks. I kissed her temple. Then her cheek. Then her lips. And when she sighed against me, I whispered, “You’re mine.”

She nodded like it was gospel. And I let her think that was the end of it. But she should’ve known better. I don’t do forgiveness. I do ownership. And she’s not done paying yet.

—————-

She cried herself quiet. Didn’t scream. Didn’t yell. Just let the tears fall while I sat there, still and cold, like her pain didn’t sting me too. But it did.

God, it did.

She was curled up on my bed now, facing the wall like she was trying to disappear into it, fingers curled into her own shirt like maybe if she held tight enough she wouldn’t shatter all the way.

And still—I didn’t say sorry. I never said sorry.

Instead, I slid in behind her. Pressed my chest to her back. Wrapped one arm under her neck and the other around her waist, tugging her against me like I could fuse us back together by force alone.

“You breathing?” I asked softly, lips brushing the shell of her ear. She nodded. Barely.

I kissed her shoulder, slow. Then again. And again. Until she shivered.

“You hate me?” I whispered.

“No,” she breathed. “I just don’t know how to stop loving you.” I closed my eyes. I didn’t want her to.

“You’re okay,” I murmured, my hand rubbing slow circles over her belly, gentle and sweet like I hadn’t just ripped her heart open an hour ago.

“You’re mine, remember?”

She whimpered. Not from pain—just from being held. Like even after all that… this was the part she craved most. And I gave it to her. I always give her what she needs.

Even if I’m the one who broke her to begin with.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog

[angelicbloom]

So glad they get there readers

me reading threshold 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

LMAOOOO MY EXACT MINDSET WHILE COMING UP WITH THRESHOLD'S CONCEPT:

[angelicbloom]

Another banger (literally just watched the sun rise because I was up all night on this one app)

: ̗̀➛ No Light, No Armor

knight!paige.bueckers x princess!reader fantasy au

warnings: use of pet names, power imbalance(?) kinda goes both ways tbh, oral sex (r.receiving),reader is inexperienced , semi-risky sex, more plot than porn lol sorry

synopsis: you’re sheltered royalty, hidden behind vine-veiled cobblestone and powder pink gossip. being treated like a child has only made your less-than-innocent cravings more intense. it doesn't help that your new personal knight gives you more attention than you're used to. in fact, it only infatuates you more. (aka, we're kinda deprived and paige is...there.)

sierra says: i had so much fun writing this! kinda struggled w dialogue bc i wanted to go slighhhtly formal but also paige speaks pretty informally irl so i had no idea how to write her lines while making it sound like her. but its an au so its okayyyyy its not that srs.

THE CLICK OF your embroidered flats against the cool, polished castle floor are only hidden by faint giggles and the swish of fabric against bare ankles.

The two of you must be more careful. You bite your tongues and cover your upturned lips with beautiful hands to muffle the noise. A woman’s chortle holds power your father would rather die than allow you to take advantage of. No, you’re barely even allowed to grace a male with your presence, let alone slip any noises within proximity.

Still, you and your friend can’t help but squeal as you duck and scurry through the castle halls, hiding behind crevices and thick pillars to avoid being caught.

Your friend, daughter of your fathers advisor, had overheard her father and yours talking in hushed tones. Something about recruiting fresh blood, young and eager soldiers who ache to serve under the king. The best of the lot, a grand total of five extraordinary knights, were to be assessed today in the hall just north-west of your living quarters.

Naturally, both you and her decided it was only right to asses these knights yourselves. From afar. Quietly.

It’s exciting, the notion of the word fresh, meaning new. Young. Emphasis on young, most knights were—they had to be in peak condition of course—but your fathers preferred personal knights had grown older. He began to worry their temptations may precede them, that your youth may stray them from their duty.

You were wholly uninterested in the knights. They were silent creatures, just empty eyes behind sheets of armour, only opening their mouths to forbade you from freedom under daddy’s orders. If they had lingering stares that followed a gown hemmed too short, or a neckline too low, you hadn’t noticed. You tried not to notice them at all.

But still the rush of sneaking away to gawk at these new, alien beings is adrenaline racing on its own. If your father knew of your intentions, you’d be locked away till your wedding day.

“They’re tall.” Nika, your friend, smirks, head poking out from behind the wide pillar you’re both hiding behind. “Come look.”

Carefully, you shuffle over and peep your eyes just over the old marble slab that shields you. You can seem them a little ways down the curved palace hall, the five of them adorned in their shiny silver walls and guarded helmets, swords in their hilts, eyes hidden beneath metal. Alien, inhuman, a separate type of being from yours.

“How old do you think these ones are?” You whisper, and she shrugs,

“Papa said one of them was yours, so that one must be the youngest.” She mutters back, and you nod. Your father was far too paranoid to have a seasoned, older man stand guard by your room at night.

“The others may be slightly older.” Nika adds. “They’re all within marrying age, that’s for sure.”

“You want one?” You smirk, glancing at her. Her face grows pink but she shakes her head. “My wedding’s arranged already. No point in ruining it with an affair.”

“You’re not wed.” You scoff. “No such thing as an affair without a husband.”

“Not everyone can be so adventurous, princess.” Nika nudges you. “Trust me, I’d like to. But Papa would have my head on a platter served for luncheon before allowing even a rumour to float past him of my…activities.”

“Too bad.” You sigh, staring further at the knights, their perfect posture, their ridged obedience. “I believe every girl deserves to have a moment for loose behaviour.”

“Will that be your first rule as Queen?” Nika grins.

You shrug. “Pray that I find someone with enough heart to allow it.”

“A man of royalty would have you hung.” Nika snorts. “But a knight…perhaps.”

You almost gasp at the comment, eyes widening in her direction. “A knight?” You huff trying to stay quiet. “For me?”

“Why not?” She hums. “They have more heart than any royal man. One tough as nails, I’m sure. It’ll take more than…what’d you say? Loose behaviour? It’ll take more than that to shake them.”

“They’re poor.” You frown. “It’d be impossible.”

“Well I’m not saying you have to wed one.” Nika’s brows furrow. “But you could certainly bed one. And I doubt it’d be as much of a problem as any other man.”

“I guess so.” You hum, considering the sentiment. “But they’re so…distant. They never speak out of fear of my father. They rarely lift their helmets for the same reason. And when they do I’m often dissatisfied.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.” You frown. “Too rugged, most of them. Stubbly, the kind that hurts when it grazes your cheek.”

“Princess.” Nika raises a brow. “If you want a man then the stubble is your sign of one. No man with a face bare as a baby is old enough to defend you at night, let alone take care of you.”

“Is that so?”

“Definitely.”

“Shame.” You sigh, gazing back at the knights as Nika’s dad drawls on about some Palace rules. “I figured I’d enjoy the smooth kind more.”

“No skin is smoother than a woman’s.” Nika nods solemnly. “Real men are rough as rock. Especially knights.”

The two of you watch in silence as the knights heed every word lectured to them, stances unchanging, still as statues. You wonder how a knight could possibly be your key to sin, when they’re so obedient, so loyal to the institution that imprisons you.

It’s only when your father’s advisor leaves that they become humans in the slightest, posture still straight but less stiff, heads tilting towards each other for quiet conversation.

“What do knights talk about, Nika?”

“The ones who fight in the wars are like barbarians.” She says. “All talk of their battles, their wins, their injuries. And food. And beer.”

“And those in the palace?”

“I haven’t heard them talk.” She shrugs. “Well, I have. But not enough to know of what.”

“Would you spy for me?”

“I’m not the one who has a knight posted outside their quarters from dusk to dawn.” She scoffs.

“I’ve tried.” You huff. “The last one didn’t utter one word in the years I knew him. Sometimes I wonder if father sews their mouths shut.”

“If they’re like the ones who brave the battlefield, it may be for the better.” Nika grins wickedly, and you just click your tongue.

“See those ones? They speak so softly. Look at how they cock their heads to exchange their thoughts.” You continue, eyes still on the five silver giants.

One of them turns their back to you, and you notice something slight. It shines in the sun, differently from the metal that they wear. Golden against silver, like silk. The slightest strand of blonde hair, peeking between the slices of armour left for mobility, the parting between the helmet and the backplate.

It’s not too unusual for them to have longer hair. Many men do, perhaps not that long, but long nonetheless. Even so, the pin-straight strand of hair throws you off, brings a femininity to figures you’ve only ever associated with rough edges.

You don’t mention it to Nika. You just watch the blonde knight whisper to another.

“Perhaps we have some chatterboxes in the palace for once.” Nika muses as she watches them. “Young blood breeds new tradition. Mouths can’t be sewn shut forever.”

“Indeed.” You mumble, eyes still latched onto the knight with golden hair. “They can’t.”

YOU’RE INTRODUCED TO your new guard that evening, summoned out of your quarters by a soft knock at the door. Outside waits your father and the silver-showered knight.

He’s taller up close, significantly more lanky than your last few knights. His posture is straight, confidently so. You can’t tell if he’s staring at you, or if his head is simply in your direction. His eyes are obscured by the metal grates on his helmet.

“This one is the best yet.” Your father assures you, nodding in the knights’ direction. “I know we’ve had too many changes darling, but I believe it’s best to have a consistent guard, rather than swapping them out.”

You cross your arms, uncaring of the company in front of you. “That’s only what I’ve been telling you for the past ten years. How am I supposed to form a relationship with the one who’s meant to keep me safe, when that person is constantly changing?”

“Ah, see that’s where you’re misled.” Your dad tuts. “You must trust your guard, not have a relationship with them.”

“Those things aren’t mutually exclusive.” You frown.

“Nevertheless,” He smiles, bulldozing through any opportunity for argument, “this knight is here to stay. Age will not be a problem. If all is well, you’ll be protected by this one till the end of their days.”

You glance at the knight, who doesn’t even stir.

“You may attempt to have a relationship.” Your father chuckles. “But it will be futile. I’ve given a full rundown of my instructions already. You understood well, did you not?”

Your father half-glances at the knight, who you notice is even taller than him. The knight finally shifts, nodding surely. “To the bone, your highness.” The knight says.

Your eyes narrow.

The voice. Muffled beneath the metal, it’s hard to make out. But it’s higher than you’d thought it’d be.

“Just how young is this one?” You ask.

“None of your concern.” Your father grins. “You may go back inside now. Goodnight.”

Without any room for question, the order is given. The knight turns back to the walls that surround the outside of your quarters and stands ready with one hand on the hilt of his sword. Your father gleams happily, nodding at you to go back to your room.

With a huff, you do, stepping back into your prison. You stand against the door in wait, listening for the sound of your father’s footsteps until they can’t be heard.

And then you open the door again, just slightly. The knight’s armour creaks as his head turns to glance at you from beside the door.

“You’ll be protecting me till you’re too old to move in that suit.” You smile, trying hard to spy a pair of eyes between the metal grates of the helmet with no luck. “I see no harm in knowing your name.”

The knight turns his head away, staring back ahead at the empty hall.

“Typical.” you scoff, burnt by the rejection but not surprised. “Can’t even give me something as simple as a name. What am I meant to call out when some bandit attacks me?”

There’s a little noise inside the suit of armour. An exhale, maybe even a huff.

“You thought that was funny.” You grin, and the knight goes rigid. “You’re a fool to follow every rule my father gives you. He thinks I’m meant to trust you without knowing you at all. I’m never going to call out for you if that’s the case.”

The knight says nothing. You stare at him a little longer, aching for a response of any kind like the chuckle from before. He doesn’t give you that satisfaction.

You’re about to close your bedroom door when he shuffles.

“It’s not as simple as you think it is, princess.” He says, the last word sending a shiver down your spine.

That voice again, not high like the women you know, but certainly not a man’s. It drips with confidence and oozes amusement yet also something raw beneath. Nothing like something you can place.

You look him over again, once, twice. Something glints in your vision.

A dark gold, straight as embroidery thread. It shimmers just slightly under the armour against the light of the lantern mounted on the wall. Long, blonde hair.

An idea runs through your head, a stupid, impossible reason for that shocking voice and promise of lifelong service.

You wait. The knight says nothing more. You ponder, deciding whether or not to voice your question. Then you decide against it.

You close the door.

The knight is good.

Good at being present, at standing guard and staying awake, unlike the last one who grew too old to stay up till dawn, allowing you to slip out at night. Good at hovering a safe distance behind of you, far enough to give you privacy, some semblance of freedom, while close enough to be able to intervene should context permit it.

Good at being silent. At listening, not through walls like the one you had at sixteen, but rather at the comments you drop under curtesy’s and diplomatic quips.

When a joke falls flat, or a rude comment goes unnoticed, you never fail to hear a noise from behind you. An exhale, a scoff. If you’re lucky, that low yet girlish voice will let a chuckle slip.

But the knight is also an anomaly. Sometimes the chuckles are ones that catch you off guard, that make your breath hitch at their tone.

The flecks of blonde you see between cracks of armour make your brain buzz. The way he moves is nothing like the brash, abrasive men of steel you recognize.

You try every day, to see through those metal bars in his helmet. To catch a glimpse of eyes, lips, nose, anything.

You have no luck with that matter, but you do manage to crack a code to hear that entrancing voice more often.

Though, the first time isn't an accident.

It was a dark day, the kind that often made you feel isolated and alone. The type of night that either brought insomnia or nightmares.

That night brought haunted dreams that woke you up shivering, dreams of falling forever, of being locked away till your curls grow white and wirey.

The knight is in your room before you realize you're shrieking, metal lit by the lantern he holds, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Princess." He says softly, voice muffled beneath his helmet. In an instant he's analyzed your state, pulling the hand from his weapon to the side of your bed. Distant, but ready to offer up his services.

"I don't wanna stay here." You breathe, chest heaving. Your face is wet with tears, chest glittering with the sheen of sweat. It doesn't even occur to you to feel exposed in your night gown, the frilly white one that sits too low past your collarbone. "I can't—I can't be here till I wither away."

"You're young." The knight reassures you, setting the lantern down and kneeling by your bedside, iron clanking. "You're still young. Your life is just beginning, and it won't be wasted away here."

You scoff breathlessly, shooting the tin-warrior a nasty look. "Don't be a fool." You bite. "Look at me, look at everything you watch me do. Every single day I live like a child, I'm treated like a child, I'm followed like a child." Your eyes flare. Despite the fury, you still feel your bottom lip tremble, visions of your old, withered body never making it past the palace still fresh.

The knight just shifts, and you can't help but wonder if it's a shift of guilt.

"I mean honestly," you sniffle, "I'd thought when I had my first bleed I'd be womanly enough to have some freedom, but it only got worse." You chuckle sadly. "Turns out the prospect of marriage is only more reason to keep me hidden away."

"...yes." The knight mumbles carefully. "You really shouldn't discuss those matters with me."

"You're not disgusted." You say. "Are you?"

"More terrified of what the court may do to me if someone hears you." The knight says, and you can hear a slight smile.

"Why aren't you?" You ask suddenly, eyes narrowing. "Why aren't you disgusted?"

The knight shifts again, and you see another fleck of gold hair under his chest plate. "I'm more familiar with those matters than most."

That statement alone is enough to confirm any suspicions you may have had before.

Before you can poke around much further, he rises from the side of your bed, takes the lantern and nods to you stiffly. A farewell.

"Wait!" You sit up. "I'm not finished with you!"

"You're too smart for your own good, princess." The knight says. His broad back turns away, and your room grows dark as he walks out, door clicking behind him.

Something burns in your stomach at that retort. You even dream again that night, but it's not nightmarish at all.

And so, you take advantage of the next terror. A few nights later. One where you step foot off of a palace balcony and never hit the ground, cursed to eternal falling.

It's not enough to wake you in cries for help, but you do come to consciousness damply, nightgown sticking to your legs from sheer cold sweat.

You wonder if he would come if you called. Though you didn't have a name to taste for him. Perhaps that would be your goal for the night.

Instead, you opt for a few whimpers, eyes screwed shut, body scrunched tight against your pillow. It's awkward, but it works. You feel the light of the lantern against your closed lids, and you hear the clank of metal as he enters.

"Princess."

There it is again. The voice. The tightness it causes inside of you.

Slowly, you allow your eyes to open.

"Another nightmare?" The knight asks kindly.

"You'll discover I have many of those." You sigh, making your voice small, pathetic. "I'm imprisoned, even in my sleep."

"A dramatic prisoner." The knight chuckles, kneeling once again by your bed. "In another life you're a playwright."

"Don't make me mourn the idea." You scoff.

"So tonight, what is it that scares you?" The knight asks,

"A common one." You hum. "Out of questionable circumstances, I lose my footing on the balcony and fall."

"Gruesome, princess."

"Not quite." You sigh. "I never hit the ground. I just tumble down through the air. It's sickening, really. Endless torture."

"I can imagine." The knight hums. "Should we make that a new punishment for those who commit treason?"

"Perhaps." You say, smiling just a tad. Slowly, you peel your covers off of you and trail your hand gingerly from your chest to your stomach. "I wish there was something to cure this. It was only a dream, but I really am sick to my stomach."

"Careful." The knight mutters, shifting to pull the covers back up. The feeling of cold chainlink metal grazing your arm makes you shiver with delight you've never experienced before.

"I can't stay long." The knight says. "But I really am sorry that you can't get a good night's rest."

"It's not so bad anymore." You shrug. "At least I can rely on you to be there. It's nice to hear a voice other than the few I know by heart now."

"I'm going to get in trouble for talking to you so much, princess."

"I know." You frown, pouting slightly, hoping that somewhere behind that metal helmet lay eyes that catch on the plumpness of your lips. "But it's more help than anyone's ever offered. I--I don't dream so harshly after we've spoken."

The knight pauses.

"I'm glad." He settles.

"One day I'll want to call out to you." You add, trying your best to look sweet and persuasive. "I'll need a name to do that."

The knight gets up slowly. "If I could give you that, I would." He says. "But trust me when I say I'll be there before calling out even becomes an option."

You scoff, shooing the knight away playfully. Though you think about those words until sleep claims you again.

"I dreamt of you." You sigh a few weeks later. The knight is perched by your bedside again, you're turned on your side, hoping the way your breasts cling to the fabric of your nightgown catches the right eyes. The lantern light is routine now, but intimately so.

"Oh really?"

"Indeed." You sigh, breathless. "I dreamt that I had a nightmare, and a knight came running in."

The knight cocks his head.

Days with the knight were different now. You had your suspicions about the sex of whoever may lay beneath the helmet, but it didn't deter you in the slightest.

If anything, it made a sense of passion burn inside of you. You can just feel it, those possibly-feline eyes glazing over your every move. It doesn't seem as imprisoning, but rather empowering.

It certainly helps when the knight drops little comments between the hours.

"Careful, princess."

"I'll always be there."

"That look just might find you a suitor."

"If I could have my post be inside of your bedroom, without a doubt I would."

Every word set you ablaze. More than you think that metal-tease could be aware of.

"So," the voice drawls, smooth against the night. "I came to your rescue?"

"It wasn't you. I could tell, even with the armour." You continue. "Well, I thought I could. That was the problem. I had this feeling that it was someone else, but there was no concrete proof."

"No?"

"No." You frown. "You all look the same, after all. Even voices blend together after a while."

"So this scared you?"

"Of course." You say. "I trust you to comfort me, nobody else has had that pleasure."

"Aren't I lucky." The knight scoffs.

"Don't tease." You huff. "It's true. Your presence is magic. And that knight made me fear the magic was gone."

"What if it was me?"

"Well, how would I know?" You shoot back. "With no name to call for and no face to recognize, you could be a bandit in armour for all I know."

"I'm sorry for that." The knight says genuinely.

"If you are then fix it." You smile. "Give me something to recognize you by, even in my dreams.

"Not much I can give, princess." The knight says, and you can feel the smile in every word.

"I can think of plenty." You sigh, holding out a hand to touch the cool metal helmet in front of you. "But I don't want to get you into trouble."

Slowly, you run your fingers over every ridge and bump, trailing through the metal that casts shadows over the eyes. "But these could do with some uncovering." You hum. "Eyes are the window to the soul."

"You care for a mere knight's soul?"

"More than you may know." You smile.

The knight stiffens ever so slightly.

"Go ahead, then." The voice says, dangerously quiet.

You lift the hinged iron, resting it higher on the helmet, and a rectangle of skin is bared to you. Eyes, round and inquisitive, stare back at you.

Bright. And blue, like royalty from far away.

You swallow. "Beautiful."

The eyes blink. You wonder what features may lie below them. Just from seeing these eyes, you have an idea of the nature of those features. Full, soft and feminine.

"You're a woman." You breathe, finally saying it out loud.

The knight flinches, pulls back from your hand, and hastily shifts the metal slate over her eyes again. Your heart sinks as she gets up and begins to retreat from your room.

"Goodnight, princess." She says. Her voice is almost too low to hear, before you're engulfed in silence.

The knight does not speak more than a word to you from that point onward.

Days pass slowly. Routine becomes bland and boring again, there's no rush in your heart or tightness in your core at the sound of her voice anymore. Just stiff nods in your direction. Blank metal that holds no warmth, no ounce of frosted colour like it did that night.

What's worse is that your nightmares have halted, instead being replaced by a much more sinful species of dream that leaves you waking up exhilarated. Dreams that feature cold iron on your skin, blonde hair tickling your abdomen, blue eyes that stare up at you, preening, begging, giving.

Nika doesn't help.

"I can't even fathom it!" She squeals, half whispering, half yelling. You turn around to see if the knight is watching. If she is, you can't really tell. But she lingers far enough for conversation to be safe.

"No?" You respond mindlessly.

"No!" Nika huffs. "I mean, the boy has to be lying, he's only a valet after all, but servants know all kinds of things so then again—"

"Nika, calm yourself." You shush.

"I can't!" She groans. "A female knight? In what world? How is this possible? Why wasn't this made aware to me?"

"Why would it be?"

"If i'd known that was an option, I'd be on a battle field slaying enemies right now."

"You're joking."

"Dead serious." She frowns. "I'm more jealous than anything. Who is this girl and what does one have to do to trade places with her."

"You never know." You shrug. "It might not be as fun as it seems. Who says she's fighting?"

"Well, she's here, so obviously she's not." Nika rolls her eyes. "But she's got the title nonetheless, lucky bastard."

"What else did this valet say?" You whisper.

"Oh, just some foolish boy-things." Nika waves. "He claims she's gorgeous, but I don't think that's possible for a knight. All of the men are rough and rugged. I doubt a woman would be different. I can see it now, a handsome woman. Though gorgeous fits his description more."

"Gorgeous?" You quip, interested. "How so?"

"Oh, he's an idiot." Nika laughs. "Described her like she was an angel. Long blonde hair, full lips, pale skin." She hums. "Big, blue eyes."

You try not to grin to yourself at the details. "And she really is pretty?"

"Yes, princess." Nika smirks. "You gonna ask daddy what he can do to send her over? For your sake and mine?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." You shrug, straight-faced. Nika just snorts, and the rest of the stroll is silence.

Nightfall bleeds through the windows of your room as you stare at yourself in the mirror. It's well after midnight, but you feel as awake as ever.

Your heart is beating fast beneath your beautifully embroidered dress. It's one you'd had made for when the time came to start accepting suitors, in your favourite colour. Form-fitting around the bosom, enough to make your breasts pop, but flowy just below that. It glitters in the night. You've done your hair up too, not extravagantly, but just enough to look effortlessly good.

This is all moving too slow for you. You want to see how much it'll take before your knight breaks.

Slowly, you approach the door to your room and open it. Just a tad.

You see her, leaning against a pillar just in front of your room. You can't tell if she's stark and awake, or nodding off. All the better.

Careful and practiced, you slip out without a sound.

She doesn't turn.

You can't help but internally celebrate at that. All you have to do is walk behind your pillar, and hope she doesn't turn your way. If she hasn't recognized you yet, perhaps she wasn't very good after all.

You manage past the pillar with much difficulty, finally succeeding in making it to an empty corridor. Finally, you can let a breath escape your lips at the relief. She'll be in a shock if she checks on you throughout the night.

You're too busy internally celebrating in the empty hall before a firm hand wraps around your wrist, and pulls you back.

"Oomph!" You squeak, almost bumping into a full wall of metal. Looking from the hand on your wrist to the face towering above you, your heart sinks to see a knights helmet staring back.

"Going somewhere?" She says, that stupidly amused voice sending shivers down your spine.

She still holds your wrist.

"Let go of me." You grind your teeth.

She does. You wish nothing more to see what expression that angelic face holds right now, at the sight of you all prettied up and caught red handed.

"Back to your room, princess." She snorts.

You stand brave.

"I'm not going anywhere."

The knight steps forward. "Clearly you were planning on it."

"Says who?" You shuffle back.

"Nobody wears a dress like that for nothing." The knight says, sauntering forward. "How is it that you have a secret beau that I haven't known about in the months I've been your knight?"

You can hear the stint of jealousy in her voice. You hope her eyes are burning with it, the thought makes your thighs clench as you step back again.

Of course, she steps forward.

"Are you cold, princess?" She bites. "Your arms have turned into gooseflesh."

"Quite a chatterbox now." You scoff. "Did you grow tired of pretending you have no voice?"

You back up, slightly jumping when your bare back hits the cold, marble walls of the palace. The knight has you herded like prey, the height of her truly evident now.

"Does he know how often his dear princess has her knight in her quarters?" She asks innocently. "Does he know how late the hours turn?"

"Why should he be concerned?" You shoot back. "This knight has no name and no face I'm familiar with. What is there to worry about?"

"Funny, since you lack that information yet still beg for my comfort each night without fail."

Your face burns. It's worse that you can't even see hers.

"Who's the boy?" She bites.

"You won't ever know." You pout.

A gloved hand comes to tilt your chin up. Her fingers are gentle, but cold.

"Tell me." She whispers, and you almost melt. "Unless there isn't a boy after all."

Your lip trembles, and your legs even shake under your weight. You've never felt like this, only dreamt of it, fantasized about it it's a page out of your sinful, awful, dishonourable story book. So beautiful you could almost smile.

"Take the helmet off." You whisper. "And I'll tell you."

Her hand leaves your chin like a ghost, and her arms raise to meet the hard material of her helmet. In a swift motion, she pulls the helmet off.

Long, hay-coloured hair spills out from the helmet like a cascading waterfall, settling around the silver of her shoulders.

Angel is an understatement.

Her eyes, the one part of her that's stayed consistent in your dreams, they bore holes into your soul unlike anything you've encountered. Iced blue irises stare at you so knowingly, like they've perceived all that there is to notice.

Lips—pink, plush and full. Slightly parted, an exhale leaving through them. High cheekbones, long lashes. Mousey brown brows. Pale skin, a decent contrast to yours.

"So?" She mumbles, blinking slow. "Talk."

"Not much to say now." You mutter, genuinely awestruck. "I've gotten what I wanted."

Her expression furrows. You almost fold over.

"That's too bad princess, because I'm not satisfied." She cocks her head. "What a desperate plea for attention."

"You don't mind." You hum, glancing at the tinge of pink in her cheeks, the rush of blood to her ears. "You like this just as much as I do."

"Shouldn't royalty be more chaste than this?" She mumbles, eyes still unbreaking from yours. She begins to pull away.

"Wait!" You squeak, your hands flying out to grip her forearms, pulling her forward. She's left pinning you between each hand against the wall, your grip steady on her wrists.

Her eyes widen in suprise, the tiniest noise escaping her mouth. It's like music to your ears.

"Princess," She mutters, "what is it, exactly, that you want?"

You chew your lip, nervous in thought. Though, it does feel good to finally see her eyes follow your expressions, to catch her looking at your mouth.

"I'm naive." You whisper. "And sheltered, and unknowing of the world."

Her brows scrunch, but she listens.

"And you're a woman. And a knight." You continue. "You've probably experienced more now than I will in a lifetime."

"You're so wrapped up in your isolation." She huffs, shaking her head. "If you're so desperate to be free, make an effort to be."

"Listen." You pout, and without hesitation, she does.

"One day, my father will realize I can't be here forever." You mutter. "And then I'll be wed, and led into isolation once more. And then I'll be left confused, and unknowling, floundering around and relying on another man to teach me what there is to know."

She raises a brow.

"I know of sex." You finally say, and you swear her heartbeat quickens.

"I refuse to give my maidenhood unwillingly, to an imbecile I wouldn't have chosen, nonetheless."

Her fingers flex beside your head. "And how can I help with that?" She frowns.

"Knights are experienced." You mumble. "I want you to show me what there is to know."

She just stares at you, face unchanging, eyes piercing holes through you, undressing you between every blink.

"You want me to fuck you." She states quietly.

With batting eyelashes, you nod.

"It won't be what you think." She mumbles. You don't miss the glances at your lips, the way one hand leaves the wall to cup your face. The cool tingle of metal against your skin makes you shiver. "I don't know what fantasies you dream up in your head, but you have no idea what you want."

"It doesn't matter." You hush, almost shaking with excitement. "You're already alone with me, cornering me in the corridor this late at night. If someone were to hear of this..." You trail off, eyes glinting with the slightest bit of malice, "it'd be quite bad for you."

"Is that supposed to be encouraging?" She grunts.

"No." You hum. "But if it gets to that, you might as well make this time with me worth it. Take advantage of the situation."

"And if I don't?" She cocks a brow.

"I don't do well with rejection." You say, gazing up at her innocently.

She understands the implication. The stakes. She knows this is a huge risk, taking the princess she’d sworn to protect like an animal in heat, right here in the empty corridor. With that invigorating, false-innocent look you’re giving her, she knows there’s no winning.

Her lashes flutter, and she leans into you slowly. You feel as if you might just float on air, with the way her thumb grazes back and forth on your cheek so softly, the way her lips just barely ghost yours. You can’t help but stare at her as her nose tickles yours, as your faces slot against each other like the stones that line the wall as of the palace.

Her lashes graze your cheek, her lips part ever so slightly, and finally plant themselves on yours. Gently, with utmost care. She kisses you like a butterfly drinks nectar from a flower, fleeting and instinctual, light as a feather.

You can’t help but stand up on your tip-toes and chase after her every time she pulls away. Your first kisses with her are dreamlike, they’re a fantasy against the dim light of the hallway.

“You’re the most evil princess i’ve ever met.” She whispers against your cheek, pressing her lips against your powdered skin between each word. As she trails towards your jaw, she says, “Dressing like this in hopes of seducing me, calling me into your room each night with your nightgown too loose and your sheets thrown off.”

You shiver as she nips at your delicate skin, exhaling as her mouth trails down to your neck. “You noticed?”

She scoffs, breath warming your neck. “Of course I did. I was lucky I had that helmet, or else you would’ve had me hung for being a pervert the first day we met.”

You begin to chuckle softly, but your laughter is cut off by a soft whimper you didn’t know you were capable of. It’s not surprising, not as she presses open mouthed kisses to your collarbone and your breasts as they press against your low-cut dress. Her knee slips between yours, adding a friction you haven’t felt before in your life.

You’re ablaze, skin tight and mind buzzed as she smothers you with kisses, as her knee rocks against your groin. You can’t help but rut against her too, chasing a high you’re not even aware of.

Your hands grip her shoulders, hips jutting against her leg, before she grabs your wrists and pulls them towards the wall again.

“Stop.” She huffs.

“Wh—” you huff, the tension in your stomach drying out. “Why?”

“You’re going to finish before I’ve even done anything.” She says, smirking like she’s won a war.

You pout, face burning. “No I’m not.”

“Oh, princess.” She drawls. “You have no idea.” She says, and this time when she presses a kiss to your lips, it’s open mouthed. Her tongue ventures into your mouth before you can even register, and when she pulls away a string of saliva connecting her to you follows.

And then she pushes you flush against the wall, hands grabbing your hips, and kneels down to the ground.

The sight of her staring up at you, blue eyes wide, is a dream come true.

“You’ve been asking for a name to call out.” She licks her lips, finding the bottom of your dress and toying with the edges. “It’s Paige.” She says, and then she lifts up your dress, and ducks under.

The best you can do is slap a hand over your lips to muffle your noises as you feel her fingers graze the bare skin of your thighs, as the cold chain link metal on her arms raises every hair on your body. As her fingertips reach the hem of your undergarments and pull down.

And then you feel it, warm against your naked skin, sopping wet and needy.

“Paige.” You whine, muffled behind your palms. Her hands grip your legs, spreading them apart wider as her tongue darts out to lick at your core, sending jolts of feeling throughout your body.

You peel one hand from your face to hike up your dress, finally catching sight of her as her mouth attaches to you. You watch, intent and exhilarated, as she sucks on your clit, swirling her tongue around it circularly, dipping into your hole with every shudder of your body.

Her eyes are closed as she does it, like she’s completely devoted to your cause. You shouldn’t be surprised, she is your knight after all. How good would she be if she wasn’t devoted in all areas of her work?

And god, is she good.

She shakes her tongue back in forth, she nuzzles in closer to you like you’re seeping nectar instead of arousal. Her voice, Paige’s voice, escapes in little grunts and gasps as you preen and shake above her, as your thighs try to close before she forces them open again. She splits you open, body and soul, with her mouth alone in that empty corridor.

“Paige,” you whine, head thrown back agains the cold wall. “Fuck, I feel—I think I’m..” you trail off, swallowing another moan before someone comes to investigate the noise.

The noise is another thing, besides your voice and hers, you’ve never heard a noise so crude as the result of her fucking you with her mouth. It’s embarrassing but powerful, that in itself is enough to build you up.

Something deep in your gut is tightening like a sailors knot. She seems to notice, maintaining the perfect pace and pressure until you’re bucking and jolting against her. Her hands, her large, rugged hands, handle you like you’re just another piece of weaponry to her.

Even that thought isn’t enough to dull your high. You come hard, bursting against that wall and biting back a whine as she licks your thighs clean of anything that escapes you.

You’re left panting and fuzzy as she rises from her kneel on the ground, metal clanking, lips glistening from saliva and sweet arousal. Her eyes are open again, blue bullets that shoot with full precision. Gently, she wipes a stray tear from your cheek.

“Alright, princess?” She asks voice raspy.

You nod, eyes fluttering shut when she leans in again for a shorter, more chaste kiss that still somehow sends you reeling.

“Take me to my room, Paige.” You sigh with satisfaction.

She smiles like she’s got something up her sleeve, but you’re still surprised when she swoops you off of your feet, and carries you bridal style back to your room.

You’r even more surprised when she places you on your bed, and closes the door behind her, still inside with you.

No nightmares taunt you for the rest of the night. In fact, you barely sleep at all.

tagsˏˋ°•*⁀➷

@booposaurusrex @jujueilish @juumecca @iknowwhatyoutellyourfriends @cowboybueckers @azzisworld @tengens5thwife @ellehoops @jadasogay @idkkk343 @elleaitch22 @ilovepaige3 @gabriella-dawn @onlyhereforpazzi @stargirlbils @classicvines03 @saverdelrey @bamblebini-blog @evanpeterstoe @yailtsv @matildas123

[angelicbloom]

New series 😛

── 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 ᨒ↟☾.࿔*:･

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: vampire!ellie williams / werewolf!abby anderson / reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘:

your move to jackson was supposed to be an escape: a fresh start with your dad in a place no one's ever heard of. but something is off about the quiet, guarded town nestled in the mountains of wyoming.

a tlou twilight au.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓:

MDNI (18+), slow burn, f/f/f love triangle (NOT ellabs. reader ends up with only one of them in the end), fluff, angst, eventual smut, alcohol usage, drug usage (weed), depression, canon-typical violence & blood, supernatural elements, set in the 2000's!

𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗:

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 – crossing

𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐢 – shifting

chapter one: "welcome to jackson"

chapter two: "friendly enough"

chapter three: "we shouldn't be friends"

𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐢 – turning

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒:

𝐦𝐮��𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 – the stuff that isn't said within the author's notes

𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 ᨒ, 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 ♱ & 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ☾

a guide to reader's high school friends ᨒ

a guide to the wyoming liberation front (w.l.f.) ᨒ

𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬 ✩ & 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 ↟

coming soon!

[angelicbloom]

Best one in a while

Secrets In The Night

College!AU (Abby Anderson x Camgirl/Roommate Fem!Reader) 18+

SYNOPSIS: Abby has an unhealthy obsession with watching your videos without your knowledge. She might be slightly in love with you too... but it all comes to a climax (pun intended) when she sees your most recent upload...

WARNINGS: Masturbation, strap-on use (ellie!giving), perversion, onlyfans referenced, exhibitionism, camera fetish, overstimulation, this one is just filthy...

A/N: Once upon a time, I posted this on my old account... We will see if you guys remember who I am.

Hands scrambled for something to hold onto. An iron grip was against the bed sheet underneath the glistening body that rippled with muscle and was shuddering in pleasure. Soft, desperate moans fell from her lips and she chased after that high she’s felt so, so many times before from this sinful little act of hers. Icy blue eyes brimmed with tears, and blonde wavy hair was a mess on the pillow laying next to her lit laptop screen. 

She wanted to scream; she wanted to cry out and beg for something, anything, other than these feelings that just wouldn’t go away. She felt like some pervert, staring down at that LED screen and biting her lip raw as her fingers worked inside of her, stretching her out and making her give a shuddery little moan of excitement. 

“So fucking pretty…” Her voice was choked and rough, an indicator she had been doing this for almost 2 hours now. She had already cum multiple times but she just couldn’t stop! It felt too good, and you looked too fucking gorgeous in this. 

She’s never been a person to subscribe to these things… Not one for OnlyFans, or Patreon, or anything of the sort before. She watched porn for free like the totally normal human being she was. So why the fuck did she pay for this; pay for you? 

The answer was simple… you slept twenty feet away from her in your own twin-sized bed. In the photos on your account, she could see her posters on the walls, and in those videos you made, she heard the sound of the TV playing from the other room where she was residing on a sofa and completely oblivious to what you were doing inside of your shared bedroom. 

You had told her that the camera equipment was for a project… It was for some extra credit assignment from your photography professor and your parents lent you the money for the high quality camera. Was that even true? Did they lend you the money at all or did you pay in full? You must have; your parents never approved of your photography class and would certainly never entertain the idea of getting you the 4K camcorder. 

That was the first red flag. If it was photography class, why did you need a video camera? On many occasions, She would come home to the bedroom door, or the bathroom door locked tight and she was so frustrated that she ended up using the toilet down the hall, or simply leaving again to go somewhere and kill time. She didn't know what you did behind those doors… but she did now. 

So many pictures, so many videos, so many things that she didn't know happened only a few feet away from her! One video was even titled "Watch me cum in my roommate's car!" And she could hear her own fucking voice in the recording! You had snuck a remote control vibrator inside of yourself and she was simply holding a conversation with you while you squirmed and wiggled in your seat. 

It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen… your eyes rolling back in your head while you tugged on the fabric of your skirt and gave a few series of whimpers that Abby simply ignored. How did she not notice it happening when it did? 

It was never intentional for her to find out about it. She saw your 1099 Form on the countertop with your name on it and her curiosity was so overwhelming. Why did you have a 1099 form? As far as she knew, you worked your job at the college café, and she's been helping you with your taxes. Why didn't you tell her about it? 

And then she saw the amount. $528,100.98?!?

What in the fuck did you do to make over five hundred thousand dollars last year alone?! Something wasn't adding up for her, and she was beyond concerned. What did you do to get this money? 

She looked up the address of the location and found that it was tied to the headquarters for the OnlyFans website. And everything just spiraled out of control. 

It was purely research at first. Hell, she didn't even expect to actually find your account. It wasn't exactly difficult, though. It was almost the same name as your Instagram, which did not mention the OnlyFans account. Makes sense, your family follows that account and the last thing you would want is for them to find your online video porn. 

It was $10 to subscribe to your account. She paid for it, not really considering the consequences of her actions… she had thought you were attractive before. Every once in a while she would catch herself staring at your ass, or when you'd wear those short pleated skirts. You wore thigh-high socks once and she was convinced that you were trying to get a rise out of her… 

And then she saw this side of you. The wild, aggressive side that no one knew about. You were so nice, sweet, and gentle. You wore soft colors and always cleaned your shoes when it rained. You baked muffins, and you would giggle whenever she told a horrendous dad joke that was too precious to not adore. You were her innocent little roommate… 

In the days after, she had watched you do the most sinful things. Your toy collection was intense. One of your dildos was shaped like a horse dick, and you could take it all the way down to the hilt. All 13 inches fit inside of your cunt, and she had to cover her mouth after she heard your wetness slick across the surface and how you shamelessly cried out when she wasn't home. 

All of your videos and pictures were solo. You did it all by yourself and made it well known that you were single by choice to her and to all of your friends. 

Things had spiraled out of control, alright? Every night, the blonde would sneak off to the bathroom or hide in the laundry room as you slept peacefully and finger fuck the everloving shit out of herself while watching you either ride something, or simply touching yourself. In public, in her car, on the couch you two shared together, in the shower, anywhere you could imagine… It's where she found herself now. 

You were staying with a friend tonight, and that meant she got to cum until she couldn't breathe. Those pretty noises that you made, how your thighs trembled as you held that vibrator against your clit, your eyed rolling back in your head as you grabbed at something on your mattress… oh fuck, you were holding onto her hoodie. You were burying your face into the fabric of her hoodie as you came on your bedsheets. 

"Fuck… fuck! Nnnnnnn…" She saw stars go off behind her eyes as she ground down against her fingers, fucking down onto her hand and riding out that blissfully intense orgasm that almost made her heart stop. Her eyes filled with tears with how hard her orgasm rocked her, and she forced herself to remove her fingers from her cunt, angrily wiping them on her thigh and stuffing her face into the pillow. The sounds from your video continued to play and she angrily closed the window and then slammed the laptop shut.

She hated herself for this. It had gone from a simple look, to a complete and utter obsession. Her pillow was covered in a t-shirt… your t-shirt. She inhaled your scent, reveling in the sweetness of your body mist and remembering how it hugged you like a second skin… Sweet fuck, she loved looking at your body.

She had seen you looking in the mirror and hating what you see so many times before. She watched you drive yourself crazy, fussing over potential dates and whoever was lucky enough to take you out that night. You wanted to look perfect, and you had stated so many times how you were “too big” to look perfect in anything you wore. 

How could she be supportive without giving away how fucking hot you really were? You were so beautifully soft and squishy, and she wanted nothing more than to hold you all night long and feel your softness against her muscular body. She wanted it so bad. You always complained about how cold you were… she gave you the hoodie to keep you warm in this shitty shared apartment. 

And you hid your face in it as you climaxed all over your bed sheets. No wonder you washed them so often… 

So lost in her train of agonizing thought, she almost jumped off the bed when she heard her phone buzzing on the table, charger attached at the port. With a shaky hand, she reached out and grabbed the phone, almost choking on her breath. 

It was you.

Don’t miss me too much tonight Abby! I’ll see you in class tomorrow, okay? Don’t forget my Peace Tea!

Abby groaned, hiding in her sheets for a second and rubbing away her tears with the fabric on her pillowcase. She heard it in your voice and her cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. It was always so hard to talk to you right after she fucked herself stupid to your porn videos.

Don’t YOU forget to actually bring back my charger. Not a fan of charging my phone with the same cord I use to charge my controllers.

She slowly shut off her screen and crawled off the bed, her limbs still slightly shaking as she waddled into the bathroom to sort herself out. It took all of four minutes before she was flopping back down onto the bed, the blonde hair around her face slightly damp and her three fingers on her left hand were wrinkled and pruny… She had them inside of her cunt for at least an hour and a half. 

Very easily, Abby drifted off to sleep with her nose pushed into the t-shirt wrapped around her pillow. So sweet and so cute… Abby remembered seeing the fabric of the shirt pushing into the pudge on your belly and it had her body tingle again. 

“Want you,” Abby huffed at nothing. “Want you so bad…”

Absently scrolling through her phone on Instagram, Abby didn’t notice you running up behind her, almost pushing her out of the seat she was in by the courtyard fountain. Your hands grabbed at her shoulders and she jerked forward before turning her head up and looking to see your face. For a brief moment, Abby remembered how you looked when you went full ahegao for a photo and her cheeks warmed up. It was easy to blame the cold weather though.

“Yay, It’s my favorite person ever!” You cooed sweetly, sitting on the seat next to her and removing something from your bag. Before she could ask what it was, you placed her cord on the table and grinned. “I didn’t forgeeeet…”

“I didn’t either,” Abby placed a large orange can on the surface, seeing the label that read PEACE TEA, MANGO GREEN. You immediately cracked it open and took a very big drink from the can, moaning obscenely loud at the taste on your tongue. The blonde was immediately reminded of the many videos she saw last night. And once again, what were you wearing? That fucking hoodie… 

Abby bit her lip and looked away for a second, but immediately tore her eyes back to you and stared at what she could see of your neck… the collar pulled down and Abby inhaled, hard. A large purple welt was inside of your skin, blistering that complexion and making her see red. Was that a fucking HICKEY?

“W-What is–” Abby reached out, grabbing the collar of the hoodie and tugging it down in order to see the bruise that was dark, angry, and had obvious teeth marks. You reacted like she just tried to stab you, grabbing at her strong wrist and jerking back enough that your ass slipped on the table. “The fuck is that?” 

“Nothing!” You said, way too fast. “N-Nothing, I just uh… I burnt myself with my curling iron, that’s all.” 

Abby scoffed. “Yeah, I said that too in tenth grade.”

“Dude, I’m serious!” You said, gently shoving her at the arm. Abby rolled her eyes and took a long drink from the hot coffee cup sitting on the table in front of her. When she didn’t respond, you pushed her again, and she simply shrugged her shoulders, trying not to look bothered. “Abby–”

“S’not my business,” She said flippantly, putting on a stern face. Of course, her cup crumpling under her grasp told a different story. “Can fuck whoever you wanna, I don’t care.” 

When you got quiet, Abby realized her mistake but all too late. When she looked back up at you, she could see how your eyes glossed over and your bottom lip quivered. Why did she have to say it like that? God, she may as well have called you a slut! Her heartbeat raced all the way down to her toes as she went to apologize. “I didn’t mean–”

“I-I’ll uhm…” You stood from the seat, brushing your hands down over your thick thighs and readjusting the waist of your jeans. Abby gulped, trying not to stare at your soft figure. “I’ll s-see you in 3rd period, Abby.” 

And as fast as you were here, you were gone. Her palms felt sweaty, and not from the drink she was holding… All it took was one wrong flex of her muscles and her triple-shot irish-creme latte was splashing all over her hoodie and down onto her legs. Abby jumped from the table, nearly falling in the process as the liquid burned through her sleeve and she immediately yanked off the hoodie. 

“Goddammit,” Her words were harsh and angry as she slammed the hoodie onto the table, shaking out her forearm that was already turning red. That’s the last time she asks for them to make it extra hot. 

“Drink much, dipshit?” Abby tensed at that voice. Her muscles bristled with hostility and she looked down to see someone skidding to a halt in front of her, kicking up a skateboard on the concrete and into her knuckle taped hands. 

“Oh, fuck off, Williams,” Abby sneered at the auburn-haired girl. Ellie snorted, taking a step to her left and purposely standing as close to Abby’s backpack as she could. The one now covered in soy milk. 

“Little bunny sure scattered fast,” Ellie tucked a hand into her baggy jeans pocket, her oversized t-shirt wrinkling on the side as she pulled down the sleeve of her black undershirt. How in the fuck did she ever stay warm? Abby had only ever seen her scrawny ass wear a jean jacket or the shittiest hoodie ever. 

“What did you just call her?” Abby declared, her hostile side taking hold at defending you. Ellie smirked, stepping a little closer and showing off a very toothy grin. 

“She’s like a bunny,” Ellie said. “Skittish and wide-eyed. And the cutest damn thing anybody gets to see. Especially when she wears those thigh-high socks? My god, just want to suffocate in her legs–”

“Don’t objectify her,” Abby snapped, coming to your moral rescue. It felt so fucking hypocritical now. She spent 2 hours fucking herself to your videos and now she was telling Ellie fucking Williams to not talk about you like that. Her rage was very misplaced. She wasn’t mad at you, or even Ellie, but at herself. She really fucked up now. 

“Down, dog,” Ellie sat down on the table’s surface and laid her skateboard across her thighs, tapping her fingers against the checkered pattern deck covered in stickers. It was such a play at Abby’s ego to call her a dog. A rumor in freshman year spread like wildfire after an ex of Abby’s said she would growl when she fucked someone. Ellie never let her live it down. “Just saying your roommate’s hot.” 

“Don’t you have someone else’s day to piss on?” Abby yanked her hoodie off the table next to where Ellie was sitting, resisting the urge to smack her with the wet fabric. Ellie simply leaned back on the table, her hands touching the surface of the wood and grinning. 

“Aw, what’s wrong Abigail? Don’t miss me at all?”

“You were the worst random roommate I ever had,” Abby snapped, tying the jacket around her waist and cracking her knuckles. “I do not miss your midnight Dungeons and Dragons sessions with your fucking friends, nor do I miss the apartment reeking of marijuana.”

“Yeesh, don’t act your age now,” Ellie said. “Just call it weed.” 

Abby ran a hand down her face, realizing quickly that this conversation was not worth the headache she was earning. She lifted up her backpack, shook off as much of the liquid as she could and carried it around by the strap. Before she could walk away though, Abby glanced at the table and then back up at Ellie’s green eyes with a grin on her face.

“Might wanna cover your ass, Williams. Now you smell like the shit you hate so much.” 

The last thing Abby saw was Ellie jumping off the table and looking at her ass to see coffee stains smearing on her jeans and her thighs. “Fuuuuck!”

When 3rd period rolled around, Abby didn’t see you. Her nerves felt like they were on fire whenever someone would open the classroom door. She looked up, hoping she would see you, and then her expression would drop with defeat. 

She had to apologize… Abby had to say she was sorry for what she said to you. But how could she if you had skipped the class? 

Abby ended up texting you, fearing the worst. 

Hey, you ok? Not like you to be late to class.

It took so much self control not to watch the screen and wait for your response. Her fingers twitched, tapping on the surface of her desk as she tried to focus on the lecture but just couldn’t bring herself to focus. Her phone buzzed and she opened the message, lightning fast.

Didn’t feel too hot. Went home early. Sorry.

It was short and concise… you were still very much upset. Abby turned off her screen and put her chin on her folded up hands, absently listening to what the professor was saying but not retaining any information given. And then her phone buzzed again. 

Very slowly, she looked down and saw it wasn’t a text, but an alert from… OnlyFans?

Abby was scared to open it. She knew it was you, but it still made her nervous. Cautiously, she turned the brightness all the way down even though she sat in the back row and made sure her volume was all the way down before opening up the app to see the alert. What did you post this time? 

Her stomach dropped and she felt like she could throw up. The title alone was enough to make her feel sick. 

Fucked by hot skater girl!! 

The thumbnail was enough for her to start screaming… It was you, and who was that on top of you? Ellie fucking Williams. 

Abby doesn't have a clue as to why she watched this video. It was making her blood simmer with rage, unyielding jealousy burning a hole in her chest that just couldn’t be extinguished. You lied to her; you fucking lied to her and you had fucked Ellie Williams! AND RECORDED IT!!

It felt like watching a car accident. Knowing that the outcome was pure carnage, but too enthralled to look away from her phone screen as she hid in her car at the back of the parking lot. She felt like some horny teenage boy, sleuthing away from everyone and everything just to watch porn when she should be in class. Fuck fourth period! Abby had to see this!

The video started out tame enough. Abby recognized those stupid LED lights that lined Ellie’s bedroom walls, the brightness up and the hue set to a deep pink, your favorite color. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her shirt as she panted inside her freezing pickup truck. She could see her breath as it fogged up her windows from the inside, watching the video with painful intent. 

Ellie was kissing you, and you were reaching up to remove the glasses from her face in order to stop the frames from digging into your faces. For a brief moment, Ellie chuckled and then she shoved you down into the mattress of her twin-bed. Ellie was slipping her hands under your hoodie– fuck, it was Abby’s hoodie too. It probably still smelled like her. Every once in a while, you would ask her to spray that pine scented cologne onto the hoodie so it would smell like her… you told Abby that her scent was calming. It made you feel safe. 

Ellie’s long, dextrous fingers slipped under your shirt, her black-painted short nails raking over your soft tummy and squeezing at your thighs. The noise you made was making Abby blush from her ears down to her cheeks. 

The process of the video was borderline hypnotic. It was a mess of wet lips, Ellie’s rough calloused hands on your soft skin, your back arching and your hips rising off the bed as Ellie pulled down your panties with her fucking teeth. Abby tugged at the front of her shirt, right over her viciously beating heart. 

It should have been her. Abby should have been the one doing these things to you. Abby wanted to be the one that took those clothes off you and made you whimper for her, and for her alone. She was so fucking covetous of you. She wanted you to scream her name and to squirm on top of her as she forced you to sit on her face and ride her tongue to beautiful completion. 

Ellie knew exactly what she was doing. She moved with fluidity and skill as her head dipped down between your legs and she immediately dived head first into your cunt, drooling all over you and making you grab at the fabric behind your head– that fucking hoodie again! 

You sounded so breathy and beautiful. Ellie growled against you, drooling and slurping as she paused in her movements and zoned in on your clit, making you whine and whimper with pleasure that Abby was dying to see for herself in person. 

Abby slammed her fist into the steering wheel, grabbing at the leather with her iron-like grip. The dampness was growing in her boxers and Abby carefully pressed into the seam of her jeans, grinding down against herself. Ellie slipped her fingers inside of you, and the noise you made was beyond perfect. 

“God,” Abby gasped as she pushed herself into the seat. “Wanna fuck you…”

Ellie sped up, her hands moving at high speed inside of you and the sound of her fingers working inside of your cunt was enough for Abby to unzip her jeans and slowly push her hands inside of her boxers. She couldn’t stop herself, even if she wanted to. 

The second her fingers touched at her clit, Abby was throwing her head back against the car seat, gasping and grinding up against her calloused fingertips. The video kept playing, and the sound of Ellie fucking you without so much as a restraint behind her motions. Abby knew the sounds you were making. Ellie was mere seconds from making you cum.

“Come on, bunny… that’s it, you gonna cum? Gonna cum for me?” 

You cried out, pushing both hands into her hair and giving a soft tug to those auburn locks as she dived back down and gave a soft kiss to your clit. Abby wanted to feel your hands in her hair. Abby wanted to feel you grabbing her blonde hair and yanking on it as she ate you out. 

“Fuck… Fuck, please daddy! Pleaaaase, l-let me cum– I-- ohmygooood..!”

It was so fucking fast. Ellie wrapped an arm around your hips and shoved you down into the bed. Abby could see the way her fingers indented into your soft flesh and she was practically drooling. She wanted to mark your hips with bruises from holding you down and fucking you senseless. 

Her jealousy rose to a new level as she saw Ellie bring you to climax. You sounded so fucking gorgeous when you came, and Abby was so fucking pissed that her old roommate got a front-row seat to seeing her new roommate cumming. Her right hand fisted in her hair as she worked at her pussy with her left one, lifting her knees up onto the dashboard and swiftly shoving two fingers inside of herself. The video was almost an hour long, and Ellie made you cum in ten fucking minutes, flat. 

Abby pumped her digits desperately inside of her cunt, watching Ellie unzip her jeans and saw that the girl was wearing a fucking 8 inch strap. She bossed you around, grabbing at your hair and dragging you to the camera’s view and pushing you down onto your hands and knees.

“Come on bunny,” Ellie sighed with that dreamy look on her face. “Suck on daddy’s cock like a good girl.”

Abby huffed, watching your pretty lips wrap around that strap and take it halfway in your mouth, drooling and slurping on the silicone and looking up at Ellie with wide, sparkly eyes. Abby wanted you to look at her in that way…

“Fuck, baby… Just like that, yeah? Want me to fuck you?” 

Abby was hanging on Ellie’s every word, basking in her own pleasure as she pushed a third finger inside of her cunt and clenched on the digits stretching her. Fuck, she was so fucking sick for this. 

Lost in the pleasure, Abby looked back down at the video when she heard you scream. Ellie had you on all fours and her strong, veiny hands grabbed at your plump, soft rear as she slammed her hips forward and shoved that black, sparkly cock inside of your pussy with one swift motion. You went silent for a second, head back and arms trembling before you started to gasp and exhale, hard. 

It was like you had never felt something like this before in your fucking life. Abby paused her finger’s movements, waiting for Ellie to start fucking you… And oh boy, did she fuck you. 

Her hands gripped at your hip bones, slamming that toy dick into your weeping pussy like it was what she was made to do. One hand was on your hip and the other slid up your back, grabbing a fistful of your hair and letting your sounds echo into the room. Ellie’s roommate must have been pissed. 

Abby knew it was fucking depraved… She knew that it was twisted and an obsession, but she couldn’t stop. She was addicted to this– addicted to you. Her wrist was screaming for her to stop but Abby refused to let up. 

She watched the entire video, and came three times inside of her car.

Abby didn’t know what to expect when she returned  home, but seeing you nowhere in sight was not it. She frowned, searching the entire apartment for any sign of your presence… All the lights were off. You didn’t turn on your aroma diffuser, and the window was still shut… You always do the same thing when you come back home. You fill the diffuser with peppermint oil, turn on the lamp next to the sofa, and open the window a crack to let the fresh air in.

Even when the temperature was bitingly cold and you complained about it, you still wanted the window open a little. Abby teased you, but you didn’t care and proceeded to do it until she would close it at the end of the night. 

Her heart sank as she pushed her bedroom door open, dropping her backpack and cringing at the scent coming off it. If she didn’t wash it tonight, it would be unbearable by the morning. She slowly pulled out all of her school stuff, placing her laptop on the bed and carrying the bag to the laundry room. 

Abby got lost in her head again, fingers twitching a little as she scrubbed at the soy milk stain on the black mesh. Her hands gripped the strap and she inhaled hard… Her mind drifted to Ellie. How Ellie called you bunny this morning, and then how she said it in the fucking video…

“Ride daddy’s cock, bunny… Pretty fucking girl.” 

Hands flexed hard enough to tear the fabric in her hands and she slammed the backpack into the washer. Fuck it, she didn’t have to scrub it. Just soak the shit off. 

Abby drizzled the soap over the bag and slammed the lid shut, putting it on a delicate setting and letting it run. Fuck, even her shirt smelled like irish creme. Abby ripped the long-sleeved compression shirt off her body, adding it to the washer and walking away from the room. Her skin felt tight on her body, and she just wanted to curl up on the blankets on her bed and sleep until the sun came up again.

Her heart stopped for a second as she paused in the doorway, her hand grabbing the frame as she scowled. What if the reason you weren’t here… was to be with her? What if you were with Ellie right now? What if you were being railed by her all over again? Would you record this one too?

Abby felt dirty. She had to shower. 

As quickly as she could manage, Abby was stripping off her clothing and heading into the bathroom where she cranked up the water as hot as she could handle, jumping in and washing away the filth of today. 

When she closed her eyes, she thought of you. The way your eyes roll back in your head, the soft giggle in your voice when she tells you something funny, how your legs quivered when you climaxed, the way your head rested on her leg when you fell asleep watching a movie with her… Your soft breathing when Abby would stare at you and dream of how your lips would feel against her own.

Abby wanted to cry. She was no better than any of those other fucking creeps on that website. She was no better than some gross man watching you get fucked by Ellie fucking Williams, getting off to it and then feeling guilty about it afterward. 

Everything was a fucking mess. And for some goddamn reason, she just couldn’t fucking stop! 

Even after her shower, Abby was right back to square fucking one. Fingers moved against her cunt, focusing on her clit this time around and watching Ellie rail you all over again. You were sitting in her lap as she watched you bounce on her strap, holding you at the waist and digging her fingernails into that soft body of yours. 

It gave Abby a new reason to fucking hate her. She takes everything that she wants. Freshman year was spent in torture. Ellie would eat the stuff she labeled in the fridge, would never return her movies, used her Xbox… stole her girlfriend right out from under her. Yeah, Abby and Nora broke up, but Ellie swooped down immediately and Abby felt so fucking replaceable that it hurt. 

This was the one thing she didn’t want Ellie Williams to fucking have… and she got you. She got you in her bed, and Ellie left her fucking marks all over you. Bruises on your ass, hickies on your neck, claw marks on your back.

“F-fucking hate you,” Abby huffed into the pillow that your shirt was still wrapped around. She looked at her phone and seethed with rage. You kept calling her “daddy” and kept making those fucking noises that Abby loved so much that she felt stupid. “Little whore…” 

Abby had left the bedroom door cracked, convinced that if you came home at any moment, she would notice… but that has never, ever worked before. You were so damn sneaky that you made Abby scream on multiple occasions. 

You slowly opened the front door, placing your keys on the hook next to it and peeking inside. The apartment seemed quiet… that was good? Maybe Abby went to sleep or something. With a little breath through your nose, you closed the door as quietly as possible behind you, brushing off the snow on your outfit and in the midst of removing the hoodie from your body.

It was then that you heard it. Hands stopping halfway through taking off her sweatshirt at the entryway, you heard a soft moan come from the bedroom. Abby? Maybe she was sleep-talking again. 

You ignored it at first, but then it happened again, and it was followed up with words that felt so heavy and gravelly, you felt color rise to your cheeks. “Gonna f-fucking destroy you… fuck you, bunny…” Abby then breathed out your name… your fucking NAME!! You felt like you were gliding. 

Before you know it, you were standing in front of your shared bedroom door and you peeked inside of the room. Your eyes widened and you had to cover your mouth to hide the noise you made. Sweet fucking god, did you die and go to heaven?!

She was watching it… Abby was watching your video that you posted this afternoon… Abby was watching you get fucked by Ellie, and she was fucking touching herself while watching it! The sound of her fingers slipping all over her cunt before they plunged inside of her pussy had your eyes rolling back, the wetness growing between your legs and your fingers twitching on your face as you kept your hands over your mouth.

Ellie’s voice echoed in the room. “Come on, baby… bounce on daddy’s dick like the little slut you are!” It was demeaning and depraved, but hearing Ellie say those words to you last night, you almost felt your heart stop. That skater girl, fuck… Ellie was so hot, and she knew it. Her taped fingers adorned with silver rings, her grunge aesthetic, those black framed glasses, that undercut, and those freckles. 

The woman was a walking wet dream. Ellie was hot as fuck, and when you asked her about this, she was all to happy to oblige. She’d never done porn before, but Ellie would do anything you asked if you looked at her in that way that made her stutter. 

At some point in the night, you forgot the camera was even there… You were simply in the moment with her, pretending like this wasn’t a way for you to make money but your raw, carnal desire for the delinquent to fuck your brains out. 

And then, there was Abby… Abby saying you could fuck whoever you wanted and that she didn’t care. It left such a hollow feeling in your chest. She seemed so flippant, and so unconcerned. Abby didn’t care who you fucked… why did that bother you? 

Well, the answer was obvious now.

Your hands trembled as your fingers slowly slipped inside of your jeans, watching Abby with burning intent as she practically rode her fingers to your video. Ellie continued that hot talking, but the words Abby said was what made your cunt throb with pleasure. God, her hands were so fucking big and so strong; Her ass looked so good. And fuuuuck, those back muscles that glistened with sweat. 

Why did Abby have to be so fucking hot? And why did she have to flaunt it all the time? Seeing her fresh back from the gym was borderline torture. You wanted her to grab you, pin you down, and fucking destroy you, just like she said she wanted to. How depraved were you?!

“Come on… come on!” Abby huffed through clenched teeth, clearly nearing her orgasm as your loud cries of pleasure echoed in the room. You blushed, pressing your fingers against your clit overtop the cloth of your panties and slowly rubbed. You kept a hand over your mouth, drooling as Abby came closer and closer to completion… It would have been so fucking easy to watch her like this forever. She was so fucking gorgeous. 

Oh, but fate was a dirty whore. Your phone slipped out of the front pocket of your jeans and hit the floor. It was so loud in the quiet that you reacted to the noise like a gunshot, stumbling backward and feeling your face go pale. 

Abby’s movements came to a screeching halt, sitting up from the bed and looking over her shoulder while putting an arm around her chest to try and hide herself from whoever was behind her, like it was someone other than you. The video continued to play until Abby all but broke her phone’s power switch with how hard she squeezed it, throwing the device away like it was on fire. 

In your haste, you had pulled your hand free from your jeans, but the zipper was still down and the denim was squeezing against your lower hips. It was clearly obvious what you were doing, and if that wasn’t an indicator, the slick on your fingers was. 

You were frozen in place, body shaking as you looked at Abby’s eyes that refused to look away. She looked as if she could cry at any fucking second. You bit your lip and stepped forward, nerves on fire and hands twitching. Abby immediately backed up, her spine meeting the wall as she grabbed the blanket from her bed and pulled it close to her skin.

“N-no, no, fuck,” Abby immediately started rambling. “M’sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t think you would… god, I’m so fucking sorry! I know, I know I’m fucked up and I shouldn’t have–”

“Abby,” You tried.

“I’m not… I’m not like this with other people, I don’t–”

“Abby.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I don’t know why its like this with you, I just–”

“Abby!” You slapped your hands against her face, squishing her cheeks and slightly crouching down. From here, Abby could see the many hickies that Ellie left on your neck from the night before. The rage began to return at seeing those marks, wishing that it was her that gave them to you. “Stop talking.” 

“No, no, I need to explain–”

“You really don’t, honey,” You said in the sweetest tone ever. Abby forgot her point for a second. “You have no idea… how fucking hot that was, do you?”

Abby didn’t say anything until you pinched her cheeks again. “I… I uhm…”

You chuckled, eyes closing for a moment as Abby stared at you. Those beautifully long lashes of yours and that soft blush that decorated your cheeks… She could smell the mixture of your body mist, and her cologne. Abby whined. You looked so gorgeous in her hoodie… 

“Honey,” You made her brain skip like a scratched record disk. Her heart sped up and she very cautiously reached out to grab you. Her huge hands hovered just above your hips and you pushed her damp honey blonde hair away from her icy-blue eyes. It just took one glance down at her lips and Abby was done for. 

“W-What about–” Abby choked, sitting back for a second to keep you at bay. “What about Ellie?”

You blushed a deep red, and Abby didn’t like that. But your answer was quick and concise. “Ellie isn’t you. She can never be you, Abby… Who do you think I imagine when I make those videos, huh? Why am I always wearing your hoodie in all of them…” 

Her icy blue eyes trailed down to your body under the hoodie, seeing how it was loose around you but still so fucking beautiful against your skin. Abby looked at you like she wanted to eat you alive and ruin you until you were sobbing.

“Abby,” You whined desperately. “I can’t take it anymore… please–”

“P-Please what?” She tried to sound dominant, but your presence was holding so much power over her that she ended up stuttering over her words. A blush decorated her cheeks as she felt you slide the pad of your thumb across her pouty bottom lip.

“Please. Kiss me.” 

And when she did, there was no going back. 

[angelicbloom]

Gotta be me some day

Ananda Lewis at Hello Kitty’s 30th Anniversary Party in 2004. ♥️🕊️

[angelicbloom]

Just gotta get through this phase

How it feel to finally accept and embrace the cringe of reading x reader fics