#he isn’t going to tell them squat | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

s-4pphics · 20 days

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click!: in frame. 3 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you crave redemption more than love. [idk au]

WORD COUNT: 17.2k

WARNINGS: professionalphotographer!ellie, strugglingartist!oc who’s black, FLUFF????, angst, mentions of deceased family members, weed, sexual tension, SMUT AGELESS BLOGS/MDNI, they fuck a lot, fingering, pussy eating/face sitting, tribbing YAAY, slut shaming but consensual, fucking on camera, dirty talk mmm, STRAP SUCKING!!! SUCK MORE STRAPS!!, squirting, i think that’s it but i don’t remember tbh

A/N: omg finally….. heyyy idk when i’ll return to this fic tbh …. 😞😞 but i love them so much and i always will. fav couple imo… HOPE THIS MAKES UP FOR THE LONG WAIT BYEEEEE LOL

Ellie’s trying her hardest not to panic.

Her car is quiet, not a sound coming from either of you, ears comforted by the whistling winds and rustling trees… And Pickle’s quiet coos. She sits in your lap as your thumb caresses her head; Ellie’s can see how she looks up at you, eyes full of love. She's never going to stop reminding you of how much your kitty missed your presence.

Her mind races with unanswered questions, one of the main being why you haven’t said anything to her since the two of you left her father’s home. She yearns to hear your voice.

She yearns for you… but you’re not yourself, at least from what she can remember. She can’t shake the curiosity that’s been pestering her since you’ve reconnected; What the hell happened to you while you were apart? The energy you brought to your formerly shared home was irreplaceable: your midnight rambles, your nerve-wracked pacing, your cheery laughter… Your laugh. She misses it terribly. It’s not the same. Nothing about you is.

Ellie’s itching to ask, but her father’s statement blares red like a sonic in her mind.

Did she tell you she’s in therapy?

You want to talk… You suggested it! Ellie’s tummy twists in anxious knots, hands tightly gripping the leather of the steering wheel.

… What the hell happened to you?

“We… we can sit anywhere.” Ellie whispers to you.

She stands next to you by the front door while Pickle wanders around with her toy mouse between her teeth. You nod in acknowledgment but your gaze stays forward. Ellie peers downward when she hears subtle brushing of skin, catching glimpses of your thumbnail digging into your index finger. She grabs your hand to get you to stop. “Sit with me?” She asks gently, and you allow her to pull you towards the black cushions. You finally sit and she follows, keeping some space between you. Every bit of her attention is on you; She hopes it isn’t suffocating.

“Your…”

Ellie follows your gaze at your croak, inspecting the framed photo of young her and her parents at her high school graduation sitting proudly on the bookshelf. Your pupils are overcast in sorrow, and Ellie’s heart jerks painfully.

“Your dad’s really nice.” You whisper.

Ellie wasn’t expecting that, but she nods, “He… he really likes you. I know he was a little… standoffish, but he likes y—“

Her words are cut when two large tears dribble down your face like rain on glass. She scoots closer, brows furrowed in concern, one hand intertwining with yours while the other cups your wet cheek. “Talk to me, babe. What… what’s going on?” Ellie pushes as softly as she can. She doesn’t know how to help if you don’t say anything.

“… Is it me? D-Did I do something?” She asks with a heavy heart, and you instantly shake your head. Your free hand comes up to land on top of hers, warmth radiating off your fingertips.

“Y… Your dad’s r-really nice.” You exhale before releasing a choked sob. Ellie’s up in an instant, squatting in front of you as she tries to get you to calm down, telling you to breathe, to count, but you don’t. Ellie catches your weight as you fall against her, arms wrapping around you as she whispers comforts in your ears, blinking away her own tears. You’re holding her like she’s slipping from your fingers, each guttural sob synched with the squeezes on her shoulder.

“Shhh, s’okay… S’gonna be okay.”

Her whispers aren’t only for you. They’re for her, too.

“Ellie…”

“Yeah, babe?” Ellie’s lips brush against your forehead, and you sniffle.

“… Ever been to therapy?”

“Um… no?” She ponders with a huff at the ceiling, “I thought about it, but…”

“It’s really hard,” Ellie’s heartbeat sounds like the beating rain outside, flowing into your ears like water on rocks, “Never do it. This shit sucks,” You snicker wetly.

“… Noted,” She laughs softly and plants a kiss on your forehead. Your eyes shut when she whispers, “Wanna talk about it?”

You nod into her neck as she rubs your back, “I just… I dunno where to start…” Your mind races, brain filled to capacity with every mistake you’ve made in the past year.

“Just… say how you’ve been feeling,” She suggests. Her heartbeat seems louder… or is that yours? Your tears fall from your cheek and into her shirt.

“I just… really miss my mom.” You say shakily. Ellie sighs from above and holds you tighter.

“Me, too… it hits me out of nowhere sometimes,” She mutters, “We weren’t even… close like that, but it hurts…”

“What happened?”

“She died.” She says plainly.

You snort, “N — not that! I mean why weren’t you guys close?” Ellie mumbles oh, fuck, sorry between hearty laughs and you smile.

“I dunno… like, whenever I think back on good times, my dad’s always there. I never…” She pauses and your head rises to look at her face. She’s deep in thought, and you patiently wait for her to resurface. You brush the flyaways back from her face.

“She just… wasn’t there…” She mumbles, “And when she was, we fought. All the time…”

There’s so much more that she wants to say — you can see it in her eyes, how the trees in them brush with memory — but she chooses not to elaborate. She nervously fiddles with the charm of the necklace around your throat.

“My dad was like that.” You whisper back.

“What happened?”

You grin, “He died.” Ellie’s brows droop in confusion.

“… I’m sorry?… ”

“Don’t be. He ruined my life… Your dad’s really nice, by the way.”

A small smile stretches across her face, “So I’ve been told.” Her fingers travel over your face, over your nose, “Wanna talk about him?”

“… I think I should…”

“Up to you,” She whispers and your chest nearly bursts, “I’m listening—“

Meow!

Ellie cranes her neck to look up at Pickle sitting on the arm of the couch, right above her head. “Sorry… we’re listening.” You giggle and pat Pick-Pick’s head before laying your head onto Ellie’s shoulder. Words escape before you can stop them.

“I hit rock bottom when he died.” You breath wobbles, “Like, I thought I was there already when I dropped out but—“

“You dropped out?”

Oh… You never told her. Fuck. You’re pitiful, “… Yeah…”

“Why?” She asks, concerned. You cringe in embarrassment.

“Just… I was sad. I couldn’t focus on anything. My grades were fucked, regardless, so.” You can practically hear the whirs in Ellie’s brain turning with a billion questions. You answer the most recurring.

“No, it wasn’t because you moved out.”

“… I’m sor—“

You sit up, “Don’t you dare. Stop.”

The sadness in her eyes is evident, but she quiets. And then stands and bolts to her room like a fucking track star.

“E — what the fuck! Ellie!”

You rush after her but she’s miles ahead, already chest to chest with you in her bedroom entryway…

Or chest to folder.

No fucking way.

“I — I owe you this.”

“Ellie—“

“Please.” She whispers, “I want you to see it.”

After all this time. Her fucking portfolio.

“It’s the most… important thing to me. I want you to see.”

Her hand is gentle when it closes around yours and guides you to the couch. She simply sets the leather binder on your lap and kisses your cheek.

“Consider it my therapy… or whatever.” She huffs.

You laugh wetly. Why the fuck are you crying?

Listening to her explain her passions to you was… an enlightening roller-coaster. She’s captured imagery that reflects her emotions in the most subtle, but brilliant of ways; there’s joy, there’s anger, there’s sadness, there’s loss. You two were a wailing mess when she dedicated an entire section honoring her mother. Her father. They have the most beautiful relationship.

Romance was last. And it’s filled with you in red, right in front of that makeshift backdrop from your old apartment. You’re never gonna stop crying.

There was a time where you couldn’t look at yourself no matter what you did, completely shrouded in self-hatred and neglect, but seeing these photos of you from another perspective, from Ellie’s perspective…

You’re a wreck, but she holds you. Tells her how pretty you are. How happy she is to have you back.

Your sobs are eventually tamed by her rubs on your back, the kisses on your forehead. She hasn’t said it, and neither have you, but you feel it. That electrifying pull that takes over whenever you are separated from each other.

You wake up with a dead arm on Ellie’s couch… with Ellie’s arms around you. Your heart’s rhetorical legs are kicking its feet in the air with sparkles in its eyes. You attempt to adjust your position to alleviate the static in your hand, but Ellie’s arms squeeze around you with a grumbled whine. You hold back a snicker.

“Ellie.” You whisper. “C’mon, babe, my arm’s asleep.”

Another irritated whine. You laugh quietly and push your hips back to put some space between you. A bolt of electricity flies down your spine when a cold, stern hand latches onto your hip.

“You know better. Stop.”

Your brow arches curiously, “Whatchu gon’ do, Ms. Bott —“ You gasp, “Ellie, holy shit, are you a bottom?”

“… We’re talking about this now?” She croaks, sleep cracking in her throat.

“I’m curious! You’re great at it so I had to ask.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

You scoff, “Um, it’s a compliment. You take it like a G. Say thank you.” You push back again for emphasis. Another threatening squeeze on your hip. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hide a smile. She's so cute.

“I said stop. And I’m not a bottom.”

“Okay, lemme paint the picture. Fuckin’ milf from the club asks you to slide some silicone in her ass for shits and gigs. You doin’ it or nah,” You snark and push back harder on her, “You squirted in my mouth six tim—“

A thundering smack rings through Ellie’s silent living room as pain ripples through your asscheek. “I’m not a bottom.” She says in your ear and you attempt to hide a shudder.

“Light work, no reaction,” You groan and Ellie snickers, rubbing over the sizzling skin to soothe the ache. “You gotta strap?”

“Do you ever stop talking.” She snaps in annoyance and lets you go. You take the opportunity to jump in her lap, suddenly full of energy. Her hands land on your hips to steady you. “I don’t have a fucking strap.” She mumbles, eyes full of your tits.

“I know that’s right, baby! Hashtag BringBackTribbing,” You laugh giddily. This is the most alive you’ve felt in a year, “I look good on top? Huh?” You ask, goofily squeezing your breasts over your shirt. You jiggle them for emphasis, and Ellie flushes.

Ellie tries to hide a smile, “You’re—“

“Hot? Sexy? The best you’ve ever had?” You suggest playfully.

“— Incredibly annoying.”

“Annoyinglyyy sexy?” You hum, and Ellie’s eyes twinkle with adoration. You smile and grab her hands, lacing her fingers with yours. She squeezes gently before inspecting your fit. Her dad’s fit, moreso. You hope Mr. Miller doesn’t hate you for snagging his drip… again.

“Did you pack a bag?” She asks quietly. You shake your head, kissing her knuckles. She flushes.

“We gotta get you some stuff… if you wanna stay a little longer?”

Your jaw drops in excitement, “Are we… officially U-Haul lesbians?”

“I didn’t say that—“

“Don’t have to,” Your voice lowers as you unravel your hands, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “Wanna get me some trinkets to remember me by? Fucking…” You ponder, “Forget Me Nots or whatever?” You peck her ear, and her hands grab your ass.

“T-That’s not what that means, you idiot.” Her back arches when your lips travel down her neck, “Are you in heat or something, what the fuck—“

“Mhm,” You grind down on her and she sighs, “been outta commission for a very… very long time.” You gasp like you’re dying, “Must… drink… life-blood—“

“Does tribbing —“ You move your hips faster, and whines escape you and Ellie, “aw, shit — fuck, cause chaffing?”

“Tryna find out?” You gasp when your clit catches on fabric.

“Might fuckin’ be — fuck, like that —“ Ellie’s nails dig into your hips to help guide you on top of her, right where she needs you. The friction on your clit makes your thighs quiver. Ellie cranes her neck to connect your lips in a simmering kiss; your hands plant above her on the arm of the couch for leverage, pushing your hips down hard; She gets lost in it, no longer being able to keep up with your thirsty kisses as she whines for more.

“Can’t fuckin’ — fuck — wait —“

You try to fight against her tight grip on your hips, but she’s forbidding, stern with her clutches. She pushes you up until there’s room to pull and kick her pants off, and you follow, tugging your shirt up and over your head before clumsily yanking your pants off, tossing the discarded fabric across the back of the couch. She’s upright when your lips reattach in a fiery kiss, tongues swirling messily against one another, releasing sighs into each other's mouths.

Ellie’s hands are suddenly shy where they sit on your waist, unsure, silently pleading for guidance. You sightlessly grab her wrists and tug them up until they rest over your sports bra. She gasps in your mouth when your hands press down on top of hers so she can cup you, feeling your nipples rise underneath the fabric. You allow her hands to wander, squeezing at your chest and tweaking your nipples, body shuddering with every brush of cold fingertips against your skin.

Heat pools in your underwear as she massages all over your skin; your chest, your thighs, the plush around your hips, anywhere she can reach, she’s on, icing your skin like snow. You’re shocked at how delicate her touch is despite the coarseness of her skin, the complete opposite of yours. You tore her apart the night prior, sunk as deeply as you could into her brain, her core, the concave of her spine; touched her from muscle memory. Almost instinctive, but she’s curious. Not controlling or domineering. She’s explorative and unfamiliarly soft, and you’re stunted, but the wettest you’ve ever been and she’s barely touched you.

Her hands travel rise to pull your bra up, plush lips smacking against your collarbones as it's tossed to the floor.

You’ve never not rushed to have sex; it’s always desperate and fast, but satiating for the time being. It does the job, gives you a boost of energy, gets you through the day until you’re craving it again. The dirtiness of it all… Ellie doesn’t feel like that. Dirty.

Her hands feel like flowers against you, littering your formerly bruised skin with petals, orchids replacing the stood hairs on your neck and arms. The array of florals and green in her gaze are being passed onto you, and it’s making you lightheaded; it’s almost overwhelming. You’re torn between hiding from and searching for her.

“Ellie…”

She doesn’t answer, just traces your spine with her mouth on your neck.

“E-Ellie…?” You’re unsure of what to say, but you need to know that she’s here with you.

“Am I doing it right?” She hums against you, and your clit jumps in confirmation. She’s doing it too right and you need her closer. You nod and tug her bun out of her hair, fingers entangling with soft pili, strands softer than wool.

“Lay down?” She’s not demanding… Your heart pulls at her tone. You pull away and keep your gaze down, at the wall, anywhere but hers until you're laying back on the couch, the cushions melding with your spine. Ellie’s mouth returns, dousing you in affections. She’s careful, each breath on your hips making you jerk. For the first time, your hands are stiff, frozen. You don’t know where to touch, so you keep them clenched by your face.

“Good, baby?” She lures and you hum in approval. You’re not good. You’re about to start crying and your heart is fit to burst, to splatter and bleed tears all over her eggshell walls. You don’t know what to do.

You feel wanted with every grab at your tits, how she inches your underwear down to litter kisses along the sensitive, each trail of her tongue littered with desire. Each breath you take tremors.

I missed you so much, she keeps whispering against your skin, I missed you, baby. Couldn’t stop thinking about you when I left. You say it back, how sorrowful you were whenever she crossed your mind, how you craved her in the wee hours of the night for years, fiending to breathe her scent. Her smell is wafts of blooming roses, fresh rainfall, the sun rays peeking out from behind the clouds and dousing the streets in light.

Your underwear is down in seconds, but she doesn’t rush; makes you wait for her touch. You beg her shamelessly, hips twitching with every peck on your thighs, leaving maroon and purple blemishes on your legs before inching up, up, up, until her breath hits your dew. Your thighs quake when she licks experimentally; one quick swipe between your folds has you gasping, nails piercing the skin of your palm. Another swift flick over your pulsing bud, and you’re whimpering, hips bucking.

Look at me… Look at me, look at me, look at me, please…

The desperation in her voice lifts you onto your elbows, neck arched downward until you’re met with her clammy forehead and soft eyes, patiently waiting for your instruction. You smirk down at her with a scoff.

“You’re cute,” You mumble huskily and her feet kick like a doll behind her, kissing your inner thighs.

“Show me what to do?” she asks with doe-eyes, nibbling at the skin.

“Gimme your hand,” she extends her arm to you and you hold her wrist, licking her middle finger like a kitten. Her thighs press together and you smile, tongue darting out to swirl around the tip before sucking it between your lips. She makes a pained noise against your flesh when you pull her digit into the plushness of your hollowed cheeks, pushing her fingers in until in cranes at the back of your wet muscle. Your throat closes when you gag and she lets up with a soft sorry. An uncontrollable giggle garbles around her finger at her dark cheeks and scared eyes. You release her with a wet pop!

“You good. Ready?” Her head bobs.

“Hm…” You ponder, “Pussy is like… like an Xbox controller.”

Ellie blinks. “… Okay.”

You explain, “You really gotta feel around for the… buttons and whatever. You needa press them from the inside and… outside. At least for me… Everyone’s different—“

“I’m not fucking everyone, I’m fucking you.” She states with confidence, and wetness gushes out of you like a faucet. She eyes your cunt like a predator to a bleeding carcass, lips curling over her fangs at the flesh between your thighs.

Your voice shakes, “J-Just sayin’… You just gotta touch me and I’ll tell you if it’s doing the job or not.” She nods and her gaze changes. It’s focused and raunchy when her thumb lands on your clit; she wastes no time, pressing deep, calculated circles over the throbbing button, drawing more wetness from between your walls. You eye her like a hawk, how she traps her lip between her teeth, how she stares at your pussy with unwavering devoutness; she replies to every last one of your moans with her own, like she can feel the pleasure she’s spoiling you with whipping deep in her tummy.

Her caress picks up when your hips move on their own, bucking into her fingers, desperately seeking pleasure that you’ve abstained from for so long; it electrifies the pit of your gut, your jaw slackening when a curious finger inches down until it reaches your leaking entrance.

Okay? She asks quietly, and you nod earnestly. Please, baby, please, you beseech, walls hugging around the tip of her finger. She’s slow as she stretches you, gasping at the feel of you choking her lone digit, her hips twisting down into the cushion of the couch for friction. Pride grows hot in your core whenever her thigh twitches, dragging her pussy against the couch at every ragged breath.

You hold a hand up to show her when she asks for help, arching your finger like a hook, and she follows wordlessly. Your head drops onto the couch when she grazes past that ridge that makes you see stars. You feel her smirk on your clit before she takes it in her mouth. Your lips part over every curse squeaked at the ceiling; it’s too much too fast, it’s sensitive, you can’t breathe, but she’s taking it, hitting right where you need, pressing all your fucking… Xbox buttons—

Ellie’s fucking messy; she’s trying to replicate your efforts from last night: every spit-filled swirl of your tongue is now being thrown back onto you… in the best way. She’s a quick learner. Spit globs on your clit, mixes with the juices that build around your spasming hole while she whines like a bitch. Her mouth glistens in the darkness and your eyes cycle.

Wanna fuck you so baaad, what the fuck, she whines to herself over your cresting moans, begging for another, begging for her to reach deeper inside you. You feel so good, you taste so good, holy fuckin’ Christ—

Every word on your clit sends vibrations up to your ribcage, right in your chest where your heart pounds for her. The couch dips with her quick movements before you feel her breath on your cheeks, smell yourself on her, fingers still nudged inside you. Your eyes flutter open and a smile stretches, “Hi.” You whisper.

She smacks a wet kiss on your cheek, “Hi. Am I doing okay?” She twists her fingers against your nerves and you gasp, reply sharp. She hides her satisfied grin with another kiss on your cheek, and you can’t even snap how you want to. You’re desperate to tip, to reach that peak you’ve neglected for so long, begging her please, baby, make me cum, in her ear, seducing her until her fingers dig deep inside you again.

You praise her between jumbled swears to the heavens, and she keens, whimpering into your neck when she feels how tight your walls get on her, pushing another finger past the tightness. You’re mine, It’s a promise and she groans into your neck, fucking you harder, You’re mine, you’re fuckin’ mine, m’gonnacum! Your tongue unravels like thread and you lose focus on everything except the girl on top of you; you feel the forbidden words resting on the edges of your teeth and ready to spill, the ones you swore to never speak again; but still, the unfiltered emotions rush through your blood as euphoria spills onto her hand, dripping down to the couch.

E-El! Ffuuuck — oh, god I l — agh!

Your orgasm splatters thick all over your inner thighs, coating her fingers in white as she works you; you feel her smiling even as your brain wracks, she likes this… Maybe she’s not a fucking bottom. Your ears ring while a speckle of drool dribbles from your chin; she licks it up before kissing you, moans trading between both your mouths, your taste coating your tongue. It’s not until her thumb traces your clit again that your legs slam shut on her. She snickers darkly into the kiss and fights against the muscles in your legs.

I’m not fuckin’ done, gimme this pussy, she grits over your protests; tries to nudge her fingers even deeper inside you, but she’s struggling; you’re winded up so tight. How are you still cumming this fucking hard? You grab her wrist as tight as you can, and she scoffs, letting up.

“Fine. Meanie.” One last press to your mouth and she’s up, sitting on her knees while you whither, trying to fucking recover whatever strength you preserved… None.

You muffle into the pillow, “Ellie, what the fuck—“

Your slurs are cut with concern, a gentle hand on your thigh. For the first time, she’s not freezing, “Wait, are you okay? I though—“

You send her a shaky thumbs up, “I’m good, baby, just… fuck—“

“Oh, okay…” A moment of pause, “Can we scissor now?”

“Can I fucking breathe!”

“You can breathe after! C’mon, U-Haul lesbian!” She pats your ass excitedly.

“After Hot Topic. I need shirts.”

“Nuh uh,” A kiss against your knee… up to your thigh, on your waist. “Wan’nit now.”

“Unhand me, hooligan — ow!” You squeak when teeth sink into your side. Ellie sighs in dissatisfaction, but she lets you go.

With one last wet kiss on your cheek, of course.

Hot Topic has lost their entire mind. $15 for a ring set? You almost convinced Ellie to steal them but she said getting caught wasn’t worth it.

She did buy two new Spidey-man shirts, though… For a whopping $45. Geek. Bring. Back. Stealing.

After ranting about price spikes to the cashier, you and Ellie barely make it three skips down the strip before your eyes catch a glowing, maroon sign. You yank Ellie back before she can continue down, a villainous smirk glued to your face.

“Oh, Ellliiieee,” you sing.

She spins, “Hm?” Your lower lips traps between your teeth, an arm holding her tight against you. She stiffens at your hushed proposal, fingers clenching around your hand.

“You ever been to 9M Sex?”

You hear her swallow before a shuddering exhale.

“That’s not very subtle, is it?” She mumbles and you cackle.

“So… what do you think?” You say, voice laced with seduction.

Ellie refuses to make eye contact. She’ll die and rot if she does; her corpse will be infested with grime and maggots in the next twenty-seconds. She won’t look at you… or the twenty-inch, plastic-wrapped dildo held between your legs.

She burns where she stands; how is the carpet not sizzling into flames from beneath her?

“… I dunno.” Ellie mutters; She does know. Knows that you’ve been testing her since you stepped foot into this demonic space. You’re a succubus with violent intentions with every grip on her waist, every whimsy confession you throw in her direction after eyeing the lecherous items on display.

I wanna use that on you… You whisper when you pass every vibrator imaginable, You’d look so cute in this, baby… as you point at a fucking maid costume, I wish I could touch you right here…

It’s embarrassing how badly she wants you to. It wouldn’t take much convincing to lure her behind one of these lingerie racks and pull her underwear to the side with your tongue down her throat… again, she swears it. One more salacious twinkle from those brown eyes, and she’s all yours, whenever, wherever. Anyway you want her until you’re satiated. The rush you give her is intoxicating.

“Oh, c’mon! It’s fuckin’ funny! How the fuck would this fit in somebody!”

“I’m sure they’d make it work,” Ellie cringes at how high her voice sounds. What the fuck is she, twelve? Closeted all over again?

You throw the… cock over your shoulder like deadweight, and Ellie blushes. She’s oddly endeared at your shamelessness; It’s very reminiscent of when you two first met… Why does that feel like a lifetime ago?

Light is beaming off you, and Ellie can’t get enough. This is the happiest she’s seen you since you’ve reconnected; you’re goofy and loud and full of color, completely unapologetic… Is it wrong to say that she’s envious? She’s never met a person so… secure. The store is nearly empty, but she can’t help but think that you’d act the exact same if it were stacked to the ceiling with people, parading around with your fluffy handcuffs and cat ears to match with a smile that glows for miles.

Ellie would give anything to have that… The ability to dismiss conformity. Leaving her home is still a journey for her. She’s forced out of her own thoughts by your gasp, “Ellie… oh my fucking god…”

“What’s the matter?”

“… Turn around right now.” She follows your line of vision and nearly passes out... There’s absolutely no fucking way. An eggplant… but silicone… With an adjustable strap? No fucking subtly. Ellie can hear the rusty, unoiled, screws in your brain churning, conjuring up something absolutely disgusting… Her spine tingles.

“Babe…”

“Y’know we’re buyin’ that, right?” Your lips are at the shell of her ear, voice alluring. “I refuse to leave without it.”

Ellie gawks at that phallic vegetable; Why is it so fucking big? “I’m not having that shit on my card history.”

“C’mon, suga mama. Get us somethin’ special…” Her spine quakes at your purr, “Don’t you wanna fuck me… Ms. Bottom?” She can hear the smile, and her teeth grit so tight, bound to snap.

Ellie whips around with a snippy voice, “I’m not a fuckin’ — “ Her eyes travel to ensure your seclusion, “I’m not a bottom. I told you that—“

Your hands cover your ears, “Blah, blah, blah! Lalalala—“

“You’re pissing me off—“

“Get that eggplant and show me how much.” You’re sinful with the low airiness of your tone. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Liar.” Her entire body gusts into flames. You pout and shake your head, “I mean it! Take care of me with the best root vegetable, mama.”

“You’re insane…”

Your brow arches, “Maybe so. I’ll make sure to use a coupon. Ain’t nothin’ like 40% off a nut.” You waltz past her without a care in the world, throwing all your supplies on the counter like they’re groceries. Even threw the cashier the sweetest wonderful weather we’re having, ain’t it!

Ellie swiped her card with her eyes glued to the floor, shoving the receipt that read have a sex-filled day! to the bottom of the bag.

The air in Ellie’s home feels heavy.

Your eyes are locked onto her. Her back is to you where she squats on the floor, refilling Pickle’s food bowl with salmon pâte while you rest on her sofa. She can feel the intensity of your gaze through her jacket; it scorches her bones and leaves cracks in the marrow wherever they travel, goosebumps rising on her skin.

Neither of you have said much since returning home — particularly due to Ellie being intimidated by your sudden calmness. The energy you’re radiating has flipped completely, and it’s only been an hour; The second you picked up your sex shop bag from the service counter and climbed into the passenger seat, you went docile, zoned in on every movement she made with floaty pupils. She’s still shocked you didn’t start undressing in the car.

Ellie gives Pickle one last kiss before standing, cringing at the pops from her knees. You’re sitting on the crack of the cushions with your legs crossed, hands politely folded and resting on the point of your knee. Your eyes remind her of clouds, plush and delicate.

“What.” She rasps. You merely shake your head, “I can’t look?” You ask, eyes glossing. Hers match, crystallizing like diamonds in the dirt, “Do what you want. I’m gonna shower.” Ellie’s legs move with the pounding in her chest, halting when you say

“I’m coming with you.”

“That’s fine,” She rushes. It’s not fine. Her body’s going to give out. It almost does when you frolic past her, the carve in your now bare back on full display, discarded Hot Topic shirt in hand when you push the bathroom door open.

She follows like a dog. A wolf. She’s so fucking hungry.

Steaming water beats down on both of you like rainfall as your mouths meld together, swallowing every sigh, every desperate whimper. But still, your arms stay pinned behind your back. Ellie’s tried everything: sucked at your throat, gripped your ass in her palms, licked up your neck, but you won’t fucking touch her. She’s dripping for you, aching for your hands to caress her; she thought pressing herself tight against your body would finally get you to crack, but you’re stone. Tough as brick. Completely unreceptive.

She knows what you’re doing… You know what you’re doing, and your attitude is driving her up a wall. Your ego’s fucking huge, that’s for sure.

All this over Ellie enjoying bottoming; She’s not a fucking bottom, she likes to bottom, to be taken care of; there’s a difference. It’s not her fault you’ve perfected your craft; Your touch is addictive; every nerve underneath her skin vibrates whenever you glance in her direction, let alone touch her.

When your lips reconnect, it’s harsh. Ellie’s bothered to say the least, and you try not to smile. Your giddy laughter is swallowed by her when she traps you against the cold, wet wall, your back barely arching away from it before she holds you down, attacks your neck with precision. Your thighs squeeze together with each suction on your skin, hips pushing down onto the thigh that’s pressed tight between yours.

“I fuckin’ hate you—“ She spits in your ear. Your grin is pageant-ready.

“Doesn’t look like it, bottom—“

A heavy, veiny hand cracks on your thigh, and you squeak, “Just admit it! It’s not a bad thing—”

“I know it’s not. I’m not that, though.”

“Okay, baby.”

“Shut up. Turn around.” You teasingly kiss her chin before twirling like you’re on ice, cheek smashed against the wall and ass sticking out for her, wrists bound by an invisible string at the end of your spine.

“I got some waterproof stuff—“

Be quiet, She snarls like you did on night one, and you’re silent. Ellie sucks the skin right under your ear and your leg kicks out slightly. Her curious fingers slip between your legs and are instantly coated in silk. Your weightless head falls onto her shoulder, sighing like an angel at the gentle flicks on your clit. Yeah? She whispers when you groan her name out, chest and ears beet red.

Yeah, baby, fuck, you treat me so good, You mumble back and she inhales deeply, walls jerking, Such a s-sweetie pie, The noise she makes in your ear is very reminiscent of a wounded animal, nasal and high. Her working wrist gets sloppy seconds after, and your jaw slacks. She’s rushing, eager for you to cum, to make her dirty all over again.

Ellie loves how deep your voice gets when you fuck; dry and thick and melts her like butter, makes her dizzy. She would beg you to talk back if she wasn’t on this fucking power trip; she wants you to shake under her. Humble you a bit. Y-Yeah? She croaks.

Ellie’s blanking; She’d planned to say so much when you pulled her into the muggy space by the chain around her neck, but she can’t fucking think. You smell so fucking good and your skin is soft as cotton.

F-Fuck yes, oh f — uck —

A nasty grin grows on Ellie’s face when your legs start to wobble, hips arching off hers to get her fingers closer to your pussy.

Uh huh, She hums, squeezing your wrist in her stagnant hand and forcing it around until it rests over your pussy, hold it open for me. Your hips buck back harsher than she anticipates; Ellie barely catches herself, forced to hold you up, trapped completely between her and the wall, fingers attacking your well-exposed clit. Her tongue swirls on your neck as you ride her hand; She wishes she could see your face properly, take in the way your lashes flutter right before your peak crashes into you, how the brown in your eyes cascade into darkness, full of lust.

It’s her favorite part; how your moans pitch as your walls squeeze in one tight pull. They spasm in harsh twitches as your clit jounces; Ellie feasts on every single quivery alert of your orgasm, boasts in silence after each exclamation of Ellie, Ellie, oh, fuck!

She’s officially made you cum twice. Four more out of you, and you're fair game. Her stomach twists as she holds you down; You’re so loud and she loves it, that satisfied twinge in your voice at its peak. Ellie’s arm is tight around your waist; There’s so much pressure where she whisks your clit, lips closing around her two fingers.

A tight hand closes around her wrist when you beg her to stop, Okay, babe, fuck fuuu— ah! —

But she doesn’t let up; rubs you faster, spits nastily in your ear, Say you’re sorry, she gravels onto your cheek, Make it good, too.

Ca — El — uhhh! —

Yeah? Want some more? Tell Ellie how sorry you are.

Fuckfuckfuck — I-I’m — Oh god, I’m sorryI’msorrybaby—

Ellie feels merciful and drops her hand, and you go lax against her. She’s forced to smash her body against yours so you don’t drop to the floor. She lets you ride out your aftershocks, the last bits of cloud nine, lips pressing into your shoulder.

Your panting eventually slows, “Ellie…”

“Hm.”

“I hope you know…” you scratch, “… that I’m boutta fuck the living shit outta you.”

She kisses your shoulder before scoffing with an arched brow.

“Okay.”

Ellie’s choices in room décor never fail to amaze you. She’s so endearing.

Her adult room seems much more lived in; some clothes scattered on the floor and slung over her black love seat, laundry baskets, open drawers with neatly folded clothes… so many mirrors. There’s one by her nightstand, two small, circular ones stood on her dresser, two full-body ones by her window. You can see yourself in every direction you turn. Her walls are made with black brick and littered with green and yellow fairy lights, draped decorative leaves surrounding her Spider-Man(Toby McGuire and Miles Morales) tapestries. Multiple black, furry rugs cover the floor. And the posters… Bless her heart. You’ve never seen so many constellations and planets on one wall, let alone four. Her bed is so messy, though. Her poor stuffies are face-down. It’s a crime how fucking adorable she is; Your heart is jumping for joy.

“You don’t make your bed?” You ask slyly.

She pauses her towel-wrapping, “… For what.”

“Um, for tidiness. Aesthetic, if you will.”

She blinks at you, “That’s dumb as fuck. You’re gonna lay in it anyway. I want a kiss.” She walks towards you and steals one… and another, and another until you’re both smiling. Your arms interlace around the back of her neck.

“Make your bed or I’m snitchin.” Your whisper is followed by a peck.

“Snitchin’ to who?”

“P-Papa Miller.”

“Don’t talk about him when I’m horny.”

She unravels your towel and lets it drop to the floor, “S… Sorry.”

“You’re not forgiven. Lay down.”

You sit on her bed like a cat scoping the scenery, “Or what? Gonna hit me? In my face?” You purr.

She rests her hands on your knees, bending her spine to kiss you, “Maybe.”

“No balls.”

She smiles and smooches your nose, “You’re right. I would never.”

“What if I want you to.”

She scoffs and stands upright, “I’m not… fucking hitting you—“

“What if I ask politely…” You deepen your voice mockingly, and she shudders, “Oh, Ellie Williams, my dearest flower, may you do me the honor of bruisin’ my cheek with an affectionate handprint?”

“Dude—“

“You don’t have to… but if you wanna, I’m not opposed.” You fall back onto your arched elbows, knees pulled high in the air. Ellie’s stare is disgustingly enticing as her eyes travel from yours, all the way down to your calves, but she makes no moves. You love how patient she is.

“Your hands are so fuckin’ nice.”

She snorts and looks down at them, squeezing a tight fist and inspecting the blue-green veins. “They are? They don’t feel dry?”

“I love how cracked they are. Scratch me up, papí.”

Ellie’s nose turns up as her ears glow, feigning disgust, “Shut up.”

You smirk and your thighs separate, inch by inch, gooey lines of slick snapping when your pussy’s on display, “Make me.” She swallows. Ellie decides her hair has dried enough, shaking the towel from her head and crawling on top of you in seconds. Her mouth mushes against yours; Her aggression is so delicate. Her lips stroke yours until they dust your cheeks, down to your temples. You eye the neon glow-in-the-dark stickers on her ceiling, “Gonna fuck me under the moon, space ranger?” She licks over your mumbles, nibbling at your lips. “M-Maybe…”

“Havin’ second thoughts, bottom?” You poke and her jaw tenses.

“Put your fuckin’ leg up.”

You oblige, flattening the other so she can straddle your lax thigh, “Goin’ back to our roots, I see. Traditional lesbianism.” You sigh when her dripping pussy hovers over yours. Ellie has the prettiest cunt; You’ve told her probably a thousand times, now, but fuck, it’s perfect: soft strands of hair submerged in slick, plush lips surrounding her red clit. Your pussy flutters like she’s crushing whenever Ellie finds her balance on top. She fits her shoulder in the arch of your calf, and you’re patient, dragging a light fingertip around her areola. Her tongue wets her lips before she closes the space between your pussies. The muscles in your thighs clench at your intertwined warmth.

Ellie holds your gaze, forest shiny with arousal with a hand gripping your raised thigh.

“Send me to the stars, space ranger.”

She chokes a laugh before kissing your ankle, “You’re cute.”

“No, you,” you cheese. Her smile matches yours before she experiments, finds comfortable seating on your lap before her hips grind forward, just barely. Her maneuvers are shy, a bit unsteady, but she’s entrancing; Ellie’s face is perfect… Have you ever told her how beautiful she is?

A trembling whisper from her, Why’re you looking at me like that? shows that you haven’t, not nearly enough, at least. Astonishment settles in your vision; You’re stunned to silence by her. Breaths leave ragged through your nose, eyes trailing over every inch of her face; the curvature of her nose, every pore, every scratch and scar. She’s an image, a neglected picture that deserves all notoriety. To be hung in ancient museums; A modern Mona Lisa.

Ellie…

Mhm?

I really like you…

She’s motivated, hips pushing forward and back, pressing down, as tight as she can get the gap. H-How much?

Too much, and it’s a fact. A terrifying one that you can’t ignore. She moans in response and holds the hand that rests on her hip as she rides you, the cup of her breasts jumping, the remainder of shower water mixing with fresh bubbles of sweat in between the valley, glistening under the last bits of sunset. Tell me, tell me, she begs and moves faster, and your heart rate skyrockets, from nerves, from…

You're perfect, y-you’re so— Her mattress springs wheeze under the sudden pace of her thrusts. Your whimpers seem to drive her, I missed you so much. You’ll never fail to remind her; shame on you if she ever forgets. Wetness squelches between your bodies, the friction sparking the wires in your spleen, back arching with every catch of her clit on yours.

Stay with m-me, Her voice breaks, and your hand is numb from how hard she grips it, Don’t… don’t go… I like when you’re close to me… Your eyes attempt to close, but you can’t allow it. You drink in every inch of her, and you burn warmer when she does the same, always returning to your eyes before beginning again.

You’re gonna make me cum, She gasps brokenly, disappointed. You’re begging now, for every drop she has. You want all of it; the claws that sink into her are desperate when her head falls back, her nipples tighten, her pleasure racking off the walls. Your hips buck into hers and she squeals, tries her hardest to keep her balance, but she’s cracking. You feel her throbbing, can almost make out her heart pounding over yours; she’s warning you, she’s right there, and the incoming destruction is evident in her voice.

Her cry is long and drawn as her clit beats, blush burning in her cheeks as she scrapes at your skin, pulls at your fingers to center as she transports to euphoria. Tears jerk in your eyes when you hear her confession, heart shattering in your chest as darkness takes over you; it’s disgraceful how you’re silent as she lays everything out for you to take. You cry in silence as she rides out everything she deserves.

I love you… Don't leave me… I love you, baby, I-I love you…

Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… Exhale…

You count how many seconds it takes for Ellie to breathe. She’s sound asleep with her back to your chest, her arms outstretched in front of her. Your arm rests over her hip as you welcome every waft of her citrus shampoo. It’s doing wonders pausing your incoming breakdown. You’re so, so sick.

I love you… Don’t leave me…

It replays in your mind against your will. Over and over, it bounces around your skull until your temples pound. You’re not sure what’s more nauseating: the word she used or that she meant it. You could see it in her eyes, promises of adherence, careless and unbound yearning and devotion. You’re to blame, though. You practically pulled it out of her after your own declaration; I really like you… What an idiot.

You admire her in every possible way. Her bravery, in particular.

You don’t deserve to be in her presence, but still, you rob her of time. She showers without you present, and you desperately wait for return so you can hold her again. She’s scared that you’ll leave her when it should be the other way around; It’s been your only fear: her realizing that she deserves everything you aren’t. Someone happy, pure-hearted, successful, just like she is.

Whatever attracts her to you must be an unimaginable pity. How could she love someone as manipulative and slimy as you? It’s unfathomable.

And yet, you still lay next to her, under her stars.

You separate from her as slyly as you can to sit on the edge of her bed, palms digging into your eyes before purring erupts from behind you. You feel nuzzles against your back and you snicker; Pickle’s a vessel of comfort. She never fails to appear when you're in dire need. She’s beckoned over with soft clicks of your tongue, taking refuge on your lap and licking at your thigh. Your lips mash against her little head, peppering kiss after kiss until leaps onto the floor, exiting the room and moving down the hall. You use kit-kat as an escape even if your heart aches to be near Ellie.

The journey to her living room is slow due to you examining the framed pictures on the wall. Some are photos of just her, while others are her and other nameless people you don’t recognize, all smiling wide. She’s being hugged and kissed on her cheek by presumed friends — maybe family — all while holding the camera in her shaky hands, thanks to the blurred image. There’s photos of her on vacation, on beaches, photos of fireworks and birthday cakes, and so many photos of her father.

There’s so much light in this hallway, even in void night, and she’s in the center of it. You can’t stop crying.

Your body drags to the couch to retrieve your discarded backpack, digging for your phone. You haven’t touched it since you’ve been here, and you’re shocked to see that it’s still charged. The influx of missed calls frightens you; they’re all from work. You rush to listen to your last voicemail.

“Hey, sweetheart! It’s Professor Meyers! Professor Rosnon’s been trying to get in contact with you, so I thought I’d reach out, as well. We’ve got an amazing offer for you if you’re interested! It’s too much to describe on the phone, so I hope we can meet up in person very soon and discuss the details. Get back to me as soon as you can. Enjoy the rest of your vacation, buh-bye!”

That was yesterday morning. Fuck your life.

Your sketchbook stares back with impertinence as your tears dry; It’s been months and still nothing from your imagination has transferred onto paper. Why do you continue to disappoint yourself, staring at a blank page with your pen in hand?

“H-Hey.”

You don’t react to Ellie’s call, just continue to tap your pen on the edge of your book. You can’t stop thinking about her hands. She appears from behind the couch wrapped in her Princess Bubblegum blanket, scratching at her nose.

“I was cold…” She mutters with a soft laugh, “How do you stay so warm?” You merely shrug, tongue tied in indestructible knots.

“Can I sit?” Your head jerks and she’s next to you in seconds, kissing your cheek, then your shoulder.

“What’s the matter, baby?” She whispers against your skin, and you sigh.

“Just girly things,” You chuckle darkly before bluntly asking, “Are you mad at me?”

“No — what?” Her voice is as delicate as rose petals, “Why would I be mad?”

“I didn’t say it back.” You say.

“… Say what back.”

“You told me you loved me and I didn’t say it back. I didn’t… say it. I dunno why I didn’t!”

She stares incredulously, “It’s… That’s fine—“

Your book goes flying into the cushion before you stand, “Ellie, it’s not fuckin’ fine! None of this is fine! I don’t know if it’ll ever be fine! I’m not… I’m not fine.” You exasperate, “Am I… I can’t stop… overthinking everything! I wanna make…” You sob and pace.

“I want you happy. You deserve… aaalll the good shit that life has to offer!” Your arms flail, “You’re so… I can’t fucking think when you look at me! All my brain cells fucking explode and I never wanna look away! I just wanna sit and stare at your fucking face all day long! Fuck working, fuck a mortgage, fuck — fuck everything! Life is fuckin’ dumb and pointless if your not in the center of it! I’m so—“

“I love you.” She whispers, water in her eyes.

“I can’t… accept that—“

“Me loving you?”

“Yes! Well… no—“

“So you want me to love you?”

“Ellie, please, I can’t fuckin’… breathe—“

“Yes, you can. And I’m so in love with you,” She says with certainty, and somehow, your brain convinces you that it’s conniving. “I was in love when I left… and I’m still in love now. You make me so… excited about life.” She continues mutedly, “If you don’t… wanna stay, I understand. But I had to tell you anyway.”

“I…” You wail with knuckles in your eyes, “I love you so much…” Ellie’s sighs in relief at your cry. She chuckles wetly before you feel her arms around you, “You’re such a fuckin’ lesbian, it’s actually hilarious.”

“Fuck off!” You holler into her shoulder, “This is your fault! Why are you so perfect! Fucking… fucking bitch—“

“Say you love me again,” she pleads into your sweatshirt, and you repeat it like a prayer. I love you, I love you, I love you so much! Ellie rocks back and forth where you stand, a delicate, scratchy hand rubbing your back under the cloth.

You're back in Ellie’s room. Your pen is moving. On paper.

When Ellie ushered you to bring your sketchbook to bed, you couldn’t stop laughing; continuously questioned your ability, trying to convince her how pointless that would be, but that gentle encouragement in her gaze got you here: on another blank fucking page with an exhausted pen. You hate lesbians.

The lines on the sheet are subtle, gently grazed across white with little focus; The image isn’t super descriptive, but it’s shapely. It looks like… something; That’s all you need right now. Ellie’s watching curiously, eyes flickering between your busy hand and the slowly filling sheet.

“Pretty.” She says.

You snort, “It’s literally a blob.”

“To you. Art is subjective.” Your eyes roll before they land on Pickle resting on Ellie’s throw pillow. “What, you hate it, too?”

“Don’t do that! She loves it!”

“Look at her eyes! Nothin’ but homophobia!” Ellie nudges your knee with hers in disapproval, and Pickle blinks.

“Be quiet. Keep doing that.” She nods down at your paper, and you smirk. “Yeah, baby? Like when I do that?” You hold her faltering stare and scribble blindly, “It’s gettin’ you there?”

Her cheeks grow plump and shine, almost reaching her eyes, “Stop… or no more kisses.”

Your jaw slacks, “You wouldn’t dare!”

“I would! C’mon, finish for me — “ Your body crashes with laughter at the innuendo, and Ellie cringes.

“Can you focus for two seconds!” She scolds between your cackles.

“I’m so — sorry, it’s just too good, holy fuck—“

“It wasn’t that funny.” She says blankly.

“To you! Comedy’s subjecti—“

Ellie holds you down by your hips before jumping into your lap, glare sizzling past your teary eyes.

“Oooh, la la, quite the dejavu moment.” You snicker up at her, book and pen forgotten.

“Am I a joke to you?”

Your brow curves scoffingly, “Might be. And what about it?”

“I think you needa break.”

“Word?” You toss your pen and book with the quickness, “What we doin’, space ranger?”

“You’re not doing anything. I’m gonna ride your cock.”

Your eyes turn to globes as she undresses herself above you, throwing her tee and maneuvering so she can kick her underwear over the bed, only clad in her fuzzy Saturn socks.

“Where’s the bag.”

“… O-Over there,” You point where you threw it mindlessly after your couch escapades, and Ellie’s up to retrieve it. You eye the dip of her back and gawk at her fucking ass when she bends over to rummage through the bag. “Are… are you serious right now?”

“Yup. Take your clothes off.” She calls back plainly.

“… Alright.” You unclothe into your boyshorts in stunned silence. Since when is she this bold? She returns with full hands: cotton candy flavored lube, a small bullet, and the longest fucking eggplant you’ve ever seen in your lifetime. She throws them onto the mattress carelessly with a shrug, “I think you need some inspo. Am I the best girlfriend?”

Your heart jerks in your chest, veins reaching out for her “… ‘Course, baby… shit.”

Ellie holds up the strap by the leg adjustment, “I’m sure you know how to put this on.” She throws it into your lap before popping open the baby blue lubricant. Your face burns when you swing your legs over the bed to pull the harness up your legs. You can hear her giggling as the aubergine jumps up and down above your pussy. She offers to help and you instruct her through tightening the bands until they fit snug around your hips and thighs.

Your brain’s in overdrive; the curved girth of the silicone builds arousal in your underwear, envisioning Ellie’s plush walls stretching and pulsing around the purple length, her creamy silk building around the perimeter of the green tip at the base. Your clit leaps beneath the fabric.

“Are you… You want some head? Like… before this?” Your fingers point at the eggplant. Ellie shakes her head with the bullet in hand.

“Just lay down.”

“Ellie—“

Her hands clasp your steaming cheeks, her lips brushing against yours when she murmurs, shhh… take good care of me? Your heart flutters where it sits in her hands, Don’t I always? You choke, and she hums with a smirk before her lips curl against yours. Poking fun at her for being a bottom is long gone; This is the most sure you’ve ever seen her in this setting. You’re often the hand that guides, lures her in, eases the unwanted tension and leads you both to gratification, but now she’s doing that for you; her tongue slides over your mouth one last time before balancing herself on the edge of the bed and dropping to her knees, eyes lined up with the fat tip of the toy.

Oh … Oh.

You’re one of the most… talented people I know. She flatters, so lustful and genuine. I know that side of you is still in there. It’s all gonna come back to you… M’ just gonna help.

Is this your proposal of being my muse? You quirk. She shrugs, her hand closing tight around the length, Could be. Depends on how good you think I do.

Always do so good, You acclaim, I love you… fuck—

Ellie kisses the tip before purring, I love you more… Anyone ever do this to you?

… Is this a trick question? Uhh… Like… like, one time. Despite your doubts, you choose honesty. The memory is lackluster and quick. It was decent enough. Merely for experimenting purposes.

The twinkles in her eyes catch flame, What’d you like about it. She asks, but it’s not a question; it’s sharp, and you almost start crying.

I-I dunno—

Before you can lie, a glob of spit lands all over the head. The glare she sends you is both icy and hot as she massages in the wetness, gliding it all over. Your knees buckle under your weight, and she leers up at you. You like it like that? Nice’n sloppy?

You’ve had… so much sex in your life, and never once, in the history of the universe, have you ever been this fucking wet. If you were to go on a casual midnight stroll right now, sloshy noises would echo from between your legs for miles. The glint in her eye is knowing, and spit gathers all over her tongue as it swirls around the tip. The sounds her lips make are sinister; your chest concaves in a wheeze.

When the tip slides a hair deeper on her tongue, you choke a pained noise. She releases the tip when your body stutters again. She says nothing, simply shoves you down onto the bed by your thighs, planting herself in between them once more. There’s so much fucking spit; it slides down in droplets all over the sides of the silicone as she slobbers on the crown, preps it for when it slides down her throat. Her mussed blankets are clenched between your fingers; your breathing is ragged.

Such a good fuckin’ girl, Your tongue swells, and Ellie keens, eyes sparkling underneath stray auburn when they flutter at your praise. Your cramped fingers brush the strands away before knotting in her hair. The bun at the back of her head slowly loosens, trapping your digits in her locks. A soft whimper leaves her when you pull.

For some reason, your eyes travel, only for a second, but you’re met with an elongated image of Ellie’s dotted spine, the goosebumps on her skin, the way her head bobs half an inch at a time, all in her full body mirror. You choke on a whine, and the muscles in Ellie’s back twitch.

Oh my fuckin’ god, Your fingers tighten in her tresses and she whines, the arch in her back deepening. Your walls pulsate when you catch the glistens of slick spilling from her entrance at your sounds, both holes clamping down, pleading for you. Gonna let me fuck that pretty throat?

Her moans are sloppy and wet. Her head bows, and you know she’s taking you deeper, nails digging into your thighs. It’s a curse that you can’t feel the tightness of her sunken cheeks. She pops off you, desperation leaking from her when whines, Fuck my mouth, baby, please, lips gliding all over the underside. You move on autopilot, sliding up further onto the mattress, feet planted on the floor and hips hanging off the edge of the bed. Ellie’s nasty; practically making out with your tip while you stabilize your position. It’s fucking messy, how her saliva drips down the base until it meets the harness, small beads building on your bare thigh.

Stick your tongue out, you order before squeezing her face in your free palm. Her pink muscle lulls until it lays on the connective skin between your thumb and index, coated in drool. It’s not enough for you, though; Saliva builds in your mouth before it shoots onto hers, and she moans when it splatters all over her tongue, speckles landing on her cheek. A heavy hand comes down to pat her cheek, and she cries a quiet I love you. You smile and it’s dark, Uh huh, love you, too. Keep it out, your thumb drags on her bottom lip until her tongue rests flat over her bottom teeth.

The hand that twines in her hair is harsh, Hands behind your back, you say and she does without questioning. You kiss her cheek before guiding her head steady towards the tip until it sits on her tongue. Her jaw widens when your hips rise off the mattress; you hold her still an inch forward, her mouth closing around the wrist. Her noises are quiet and docile, and she swallows; You shudder when you watch her throat close before pulling out.

Okay? Want more?

Her eyes plead like a puppy’s, tongue cycling on the prong. Breathe through your nose, Your hand loosens a bit in her hair, Just pull off when you wanna stop, okay, baby?

One whine of approval and you’re pushing in again; Her hips twitch in the mirror as her mouth fills and you snicker; her thighs are coated in slick, a thin line dripping onto her furry rug. That’s my girl, fuck, you’re so cute, You grit and her fingers clench. The pace of your hips kick up slightly, testing to see how much she can take. You monitor her every move: the way her eyes float empty in her skull when her cheeks expand, how her breathing quickens when your thumb caresses her scalp, how tight her throat gets when you push too deep.

Look at how wet that pussy is, Ellie moans over your thrusts. Slobber coats her lips and chin; dribbles all the way down to her chest. Your bottom lip traps between your teeth.

You plunge too deep apparently; she gags and pulls off and explodes into a fit of coughs, forehead falling onto your thigh as she heaves. You kiss her head and apologize frantically…

And then, she starts giggling.

“Fuck — Fuck, I’m sorry —“

She snorts and coughs some more, and you’re stuck. You hold both of her sizzling cheeks in your hands and kiss all over her face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry —“

“You’re really hot.” Her voice is croaky and broken and more slick gushes from you. How shameful.

“Me?! Are you fucking — are you okay?”

“Mhm.” She hums before pecking your lips, “Fuck me now? I’m… I’m so wet,” She whispers like she told you something secretive. You can bet every minuscule dollar you own that you’re wetter, but anxiety settles in your stomach. Your girl’s asking you to fuck the daylights out of her after nearly killing her with the fucking dick-shaped vegetable on your waist, and you’re panicking.

“Ellie, I’m scared as fuck, not even gon’ lie—“

“Nothing to be scared of. I trust you.” Another kiss before she mutters, “Take care of me?”

“P-Promise.”

Your mind rushes.

The past twenty minutes have felt like a blur; you hardly recall pinning Ellie down on the mattress to keep her still while your tongue swirled inside her, how tight her walls clamped down on two fingers, how she scratched and squirted and squealed for you to fuck her.

And now she’s beneath you, hips twirling up, desperate for friction as her nails tear at your hips, but you ignore her. You’re gawking at the lubricated strap that rests on her throbbing cunt, how the inches almost touch her belly button. You’re trapped in a daze as your hips move mindlessly, brows furrowed.

W-What’s the matter, baby? She keens at you.

Nothin’ You’re gruff, Thinking.

And you are thinking… about how Ellie’s going to take this shit. The length is concerning on it’s own, but it’s so fucking wide and curves up. You recall the amount of times she’s winced when you fingered her. It should worry you; how far she’s going to stretch to take it all, how much her softness is going to resist against something so big. Your head is twisted where it wanders; conjures up disgusting visuals of her begging you to split her open, to make her take it, to give it to her as mean as you can. You can’t help it, though; She’s an angel when she cries.

Agitation creases in her brows, “Gimme it—“

“I think it’s gonna hurt,” You slur. Her taste swirls on your tongue when you speak, and it makes you wetter.

“I don’t care. Give it to me,” she snaps. “Want you… inside—“

Your brow flits, “Want me inside? I’ve been inside. A lot, actually.”

“Don’t fuck with me right now.”

“Ellie, c’mon! Look at this shit! There’s no way—“

“I’m lying here telling you to do it! Fucking —“ She sighs in annoyance, “Let me get on top. You weren’t supposed to do shit anyway.”

“Ellie!—“

“Stop talking and lay the fuck down!”

You plop down onto your back with a slew of curses, and Ellie takes — snatches the reins from you; she leaps into your lap, lube in hand, scolding sizzling on her tongue.

“I don’t wanna hear shit. Just… let me do it.”

A cheesy smile grows, “… You’re not you when you’re horny—“

“What the fuck did I just say!” She squirts more fluorescent blue into her palm and blindly massages it into your strap. It’s horribly messy by the time she’s done, taking it in her hand and lining herself up without warning.

“… Wha—“

Her non-lubed palm clamps on your mouth, silencing you with a hefty eye roll. Ellie arches a brow when you hold two thumbs up in silent encouragement. You love your girlfriend!

Ellie steadies herself with a mumbled, please, God, don’t let me die, right above the tip before her hips drop not even an inch. You’re a hawk the way you eye her tiny hole expanding around the girthy crown. Her breaths are heavy and ragged, but she takes her time; hips rising when she’s taken too much, sinking when she’s comfortable, and you’re hypnotized by it all.

Her hand drops from your mouth and plants on your chest when you’ve finally quieted — besides the mumbles of ohmyfuckinggod when her lips manage to swallow up the tip. Her bottom lip bruises from her teeth, tears welling in her eyes and her thighs twitching. She looks like she’s hurting and your heart shatters. Carnality be damned.

“E-Ellie… baby, we don’t have to—“

You’re so… fucking big, she squirms, and you stiffen.

Your nails latch — sink into her hips and your jaw slacks; gaping at how she struggles to take you, how she winces and gasps at the stretch until she’s halfway. You’re doing that to her, getting her nice and full; it takes all your strength to keep your hips flat on the bed despite every cell luring you to stuff her to the brim.

… It hurt?

I don’t — know — fuck, Ellie’s eyes flit in every direction: locks onto the ceiling, the bed frame above you, your breasts and your dick. Ah, shit —

Good? You confirm and she hums, whimpering to herself until her ass rests on your thighs. Any traces of dark purple are no longer visible, only hints of bright green glowing from the base of the harness.

You whistle lowly, Damn… you’re real as fuck.

Gimme a sec, She sighs, and you raise your palms, Whenever you’re ready.

The longer she sits, the more relaxed her face becomes; flush darkening on her cheeks and above her breasts, more slick ringing around the circumference.

… This is very interesting, Ellie says aloud, and shocked laughter bursts through your chest. She’s fucking hilarious, actually. Scale of one to ten? Your brows give a mischievous wiggle, and she pauses, hips moving around, testing the waters. Her eyelids bat gently.

… S-Seven ‘n a half? She moans, and you smirk, You sure? It looks like an eight to me.

She glares playfully, Gonna have to work for that rating.

You squint up at her before sitting upright, chest to chest, and her arms wrap around your neck for balance. I’m waitin’ on the green light, you whisper against her lips. She laughs weakly, One star rating on Yelp. Too much back talk.

You kiss her around a smile before pecking all over her cheeks. She grabs the back of your neck to hold you still, melding her mouth on yours. You swallow her soft noises when your tongues intertwine, hands cupping her ass. Ellie’s jaw slacks when her hips raise and drop, gasping on your tongue. You lick into her mouth and hold her steady, nails deep in her soft skin when her pace quickens.

You grin, Yeah? Better?

Ellie nods and a hand slips between you, and you groan aloud when her fingers meet her slippery clit, the tips dripping wet in seconds as sloshing noises echo through her bedroom. Your arm wraps around her waist to yank her down, and she squeaks, back arching, chest shoving against yours. You done showin’ off? You grit against her cheek and she huffs. Ellie’s hands shove at your shoulders until you’re laying flat on the mattress, and you snicker. Her hold is strong on your chest as she bounces, her tits trembling every time she comes down.

The way she says your name is intoxicating; so drawn out and velvety and makes your cunt tremor. Your eyes trap on how she touches herself; one hand settled on your chest while the other rubs at her clit, pulls at her nipples, makes them shine with her juices. You’re aching to touch her, but you stay put; let her have her fun.

You catch movement out the corner of your eye; Ellie’s trapped in another mirror off to the side, shrouded in pleasure: head thrown back while she cries at the ceiling, slurred flattery of how good you feel inside her igniting the flame in your core.

Look how good you’re takin’ that shit, you groan and the muscles in her ass squeeze in the mirror; you can feel the ripples in her cunt pulling at your strap, and it nearly sends you. What you’d give to feel her flesh choking around you when she breaks, succumbs to pleasure while you explode inside her. It enrages you to no end.

Your pupils meet at the bridge of your nose when a clammy hand inches up your chest to the column of your throat to rest. Ellie whines from above, a shaky C-Can I? You're about to make a mess all over her sheets. You hardly register the desperate bobs of your head, and her grip tightens around your neck. Pinches down on the sides, and your soul leaves your body.

You like that? She snickers dark around a moan and fucks down harder onto your lap, You’re so fucking — holy, fuck —

Your hand clamps around her wrist and she squeezes harder; the hold is threatening, and your clit jumps. Your promises are wet and muffled; exclamations of m’yours melting on your tongue. Your girl is going to break you.

Her efforts eventually slow, and you know she’s getting tired. You look up, right into her eyes and you nearly break. They’re pleading, imploring you to take care of me, make me cum for you; she eases into a steady grind, and the pressure from her hips add friction to your clit. You curse lowly, and she whimpers back. You’re already so close from how long you held off, but you don’t want to cum yet. She’s getting hers first.

E-Ellie, get up—

You barely finish your command before she lifts up and off, strings of slick connecting her pussy and your dick together. Your maneuvers are quick; you’re up on your knees in seconds and grab her hips, guiding her until she’s on all fours, facing all of the mirrors at the front of her room. Your mouth waters at the sight of both holes pulsing sporadically, begging for your cock.

Your hand deepens the arch in her spine until she’s face down on a lone pillow. Your heart swells when Ellie extends a shaky hand to you, fingers curling tight around the hand that rests on her hip. You kiss her wrist and she sighs happily. You grab your slippery dick and line it up at her entrance; her hips push back when you nudge inside, wet gasps leaving her as you split her all over again; but this time, you can see it. You’re moaning with her, a thin line of drool landing on her asscheek.

It hurt, baby? You grunt, stupid with lust, body on fire, Huh? She can’t even talk, just shoves her face in the pillow and says your name, over and over. You push in deeper, and she groans, sobs, begs for you to fuck me, baby, fuck me fuck me fuck me, please—

That’s all it takes; your hands clutch tight on both hips to yank her back onto your cock. A shocked squeal rattles the four walls that enclose such filth when she’s finally stuffed full: she spurs on your aggression, jumbled yesyesyess hitting the pillowcase, her nails sinking into your wrist. Your strokes are deep; you watch how tight she grips your dick, plush pink milking every inch that leaves when you pull out, desperate to keep you in place, a light rim of cream building around her lips.

You and Ellie’s teary eyes lock in the mirror on her dresser, her pink lips gaping around each crude praise she throws at you. It’s music to your ears.

You hi — hit it so good, baby!

Just like that — oh, god, yeah! —

I love you so fuckin’ much!

Her messy hair flies in every direction, bounces with your thrusts, enticing you to grip it. Dark red wraps around your tight fist and you pull, and she goes stupid, eyes crossing in her skull and glossy drool hanging off the edge of her bottom lip.

Your yanks get her up until her sweaty back meets your chest, arch deepening when you lean into her, lips caressing her tinted ear.

You love me, mama?

She shudders on you, Fuck, yes — so fuckin’ much! Love this dick!

Yeah? It’s yours?

F-Fuckin’ mine… A—All mine—

You reach around to find her clit, and she gushes around you, Show me who it belongs to. You beg and she meets your hips, Get me fuckin’ nasty with it, cum all over your dick, baby, your words hit her like a threat, and she wails curses; sucks you all the way in when the tightness builds; you push in as deep as you can and it sends her over. Ellie’s thrashes and you're forced to hold her up, arm thrown around her chest while she grinds back onto you; you can feel how hard she’s cumming as the base jerks with her pulses, your name a constant on her tongue. You grind into her until she shakes, nails scratching at your hips to stop you.

Ellie’s limp when you pull out, purple coated in white creaminess, and she whimpers like she’s begging you to come back home.

Lay down, you choke. Your walls won’t stop clenching.

She turns her head to kiss your neck before supporting her weight on her hands.

Nuh uh, You tsk, On your back. Needa see you when I cum. You say, and she whines like a bitch, slick and cum flooding at her entrance. You help her maneuver and yank her closer until she’s staring up at you and her entrance lines up with your strap, eyes delicate and trusting and obsessed. The trees in them brush with ferocity and need for you; a tight hand squeezes her cheeks so her lips pucker, and you bend down to kiss her. It’s gross: desperate and uncoordinated tongues entangle with one another, spit spreading on the outside of each other's mouths, loud smacking noises filling your ears with lecher. It gets you hot, and you melt when Ellie’s hand blindly grabs for your dick to slide it between her sopping lips. Your body flattens on top of hers as she guides you in, her mouth opening around moans as you stretch her all over again.

There’s still resistance; How’s she this fucking tight?

Your hips follow her guide until you're nudged deep, barely half an inch of green exposed. Her thighs spread wider around your waist so you fit snug between, no space amidst your bodies. Your elbows rest on either side of her head, holding you up while your tongues swirl. Your knees dig into the mattress and your hips move on autopilot; your tongue dazedly licks over her lips to her jaw, bruising the skin a deep maroon. The sounds that erupt from her cunt are filthy, begging for your cum in earnest.

Your eyes flutter open to study Ellie’s face; her body bobs when your hips meet, her eyes squeezed shut and her battered lips glistening, sinful verbiage spilling from her, completely brainless as her peak approaches.

Your head drops into her neck and she holds you close, moaning against her throat with every deep thrust; the stimulation on your clit is nearly too much; You’re so sensitive, but you drill into her, take what’s yours. Her nails are deep in your back and it stings, wetness spilling from you from the pain. You’re hardly fucking her, just grinding your hips as you chase your release, filling her deep.

She’s mumbling about how hard she’s going to cum. Yeah? You spit in her ear, Gonna fuckin’ cum? And she squeaks out curses in approval. Ellie’s moans pitch high before slick splatters on both your thighs, soaks through the sheets. You lift your heavy head to watch Ellie jerk and sob and confess her utter devotion to you as long as you continue to fuck her like this. You love her so fucking much; She deserves to feel this good; to wake up to pleasure and put back to bed with it.

Ellie’s orgasm breaks her; her babbles slur and crack as they hit your lips: you make me cum so good, fuck me ‘til you cum, I love you so fuckin’ much; she’s all over the place but she begs for your pleasure, begs for you to release . The pace in your thrusts rebuilds; you’re moaning in her mouth, clit throbbing in your soaked underwear. You can practically taste your release where it sits on the edge of your tongue, completely unbound when you slur promises;

Gonna give you all my fucking cum.

You take in how far her pretty eyes roll at your confession, how cravingly she begs for you stuff her with sticky white; it makes your clit jerk, once, twice, until your walls pull in tight—

Ellie’s orgasm triggers your own; the pleasure is so intense that it’s painful and your vision whites out, all while she coats your waist in love and desire and slick. You’re both so loud and can’t keep still, sultry bodies trembling against one another. You grow lightheaded when Ellie’s hips fuck down and onto you to prolong your orgasm, voice dripping in seduction in your ear as she encourages you to fill her up, to keep her good and dirty.

It feels like minutes pass when the pleasure finally subsides; you can’t stop shaking and there’s no strength in your limbs, resting completely weightless on top of your girlfriend. Your head rests in Ellie’s palms as she pecks all over your face, thanking you, asking if you’ve found any inspiration.

You’ve never been so excited to draw an O face in your fucking life. You need new pens!

“… Ellie?”

“Mhm?” She sounds just as wrecked as you feel, and a smile settles on your face.

“D-Did I earn that eight?”

She exhales a laugh before kissing your sweaty forehead, “And that five star Yelp review.” You wheeze out a celebratory yaaay and Ellie’s body rocks with laughter beneath you.

The sun is going to rise soon. Ellie’s not tired.

She loves dawn. It’s her favorite time of day: the giant, boiling orb just barely cresting from behind mountains, birds flocking and framing the rays of light, clouds orange and pink and a misty blue. She’s taken hundreds of pictures of that gorgeous scenery alone; It’s funny how she feels like something’s missing from them now that you’re back in her life.

She wants you in the center of every picture she takes. In all of her favorite places… In her car, in her room, in water. You’re a fucking star on camera.

A freshly showered Ellie rests on her bed(with new sheets… her blue ones are forever ruined) as she rolls up, eyes glued to the back of your head. You’re sitting on the floor, right on her fluffy rug, the sound of pen scratching against paper surrounding you, secluded in a space of peace. Proud can’t describe what she feels.

Ellie seals the blunt as she imagines what you’re creating. You told her she couldn’t see until it’s finished, but she’s becoming impatient. Ellie’s nosy; She thought giving you puppy-eyes would work like every other time, but you simply got up and moved somewhere private with a twinkle in your eye.

Ellie reaches for her lighter on her nightstand and sparks, “Wanna hit?” You deny calmly, focused, entranced by your imagery, and Ellie sighs. She's happy you’re easing back into drawing, but she wants attention. She’s in love; Sue her.

Ellie puffs in silence. The more she inhales, the fonder she grows. Why’re you so far away? She smokes half the blunt before stubbing out the end, placing it on the ashtray on her small desk. She tries to be sly and creep behind you slowly to get a peak of your creation, but the shuffling of blankets exposes her. You whip your head and shut your book with quickness, a smirk on your face. Her bottom lip traps between her face to hide a smile when you ask,

“Can I help you?”

She inches closer until her lips graze your ear, inhaling her cinnamon body wash on you, “Come to bed?”

“In a minute, baby, promise.” You whisper back when she kisses underneath your earlobe. She hums in disapproval, “Now.”

“And if I don’t?”

Ellie says the first thing that comes to mind, doesn’t even bother to play into your frisky threat. It’s terrorized her mind for the past four years, kept her company when you were gone and she had to settle with her own hand.

You’re a fucking star on camera.

“… You ever made a tape?” The proposal is quiet and husky, and your eyes turn to globes, stunned and instantly filled with darkness.

“… Are you serious?” Ellie nods, her tongue teasing the shell of your ear, lips inching down to your neck, sucking at your shoulder.

“Oh, you’re crazy.”

“Come to bed.” Much more stern, and you shudder, tossing your book to the side.

“How do cam-couples do this shit, what the fuck.”

Ellie’s attention gets pulled from her tripod and lands on you, back arched with her iPad in both hands that extend out to the bed frame. The camera’s on you, trying to get the perfect capture of your ass, constantly adjusting your form.

“It’s truly a skill,” Ellie mumbles back, securing her camera. She ensures that the plate won’t wobble before carrying it by the stand and placing it beside the bed. “You look excited.”

“Excited like yaaay or excited like horny?” Your ass wiggles teasingly and Ellie snorts.

“Both.”

“Y’know, for someone who’s never done this, you look like a professional—“

Ellie scoffs, “I am a professional. Degree and two licenses—“

Your jaw slacks around moans and your hips thrusts back, “Fuuuck, that’s hot. Rub it in my face some more, it’s getting me so wet—“

Ellie stares blankly and you burst into cackles, dropping her device on the freshly made mattress.

“Nerdy Spider-geek wrecks school slut’s pussy non-stop orgasms—“

Ellie sits next to you, adjusting the lense, “What the fuck are you talking about.”

You snort, “Our vid title. Or — orrr, I gotta better one! Constellation station makes astrology-loser girlfriend see the Milky Way—“

“No one’s gonna click that.”

“I would!” The bed dips behind Ellie, and goosebumps rise on her skin when your lips connect with the muscles in her back. Graze all the way up her neck, “And you would, too. Lil’ freak.” Ellie’s core gives a tight squeeze. What a change of fucking events: used to be bullied over being the school’s freak show, and now her body’s begging her girlfriend to throw it in her face one more time.

“I’m not posting anything.”

You tsk, “A shame. Could’ve used that OnlyFans bag.” A dreamy sigh from you, “You know you can do whatever you want to me, right?”

“I’ve been told.”

“And I meant it.” You’re a fucking siren, “Your time to shine, baby. Nothing’s off limits in my book.”

Ellie’s stern, “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Whatever you like, I like. Wanna feel how wet you make me, space ranger?”

You and Ellie are polar opposites, and somehow share the singular fucking braincell when you’re horny. You have the same effect on her. She turns her head to meet your eyes, “Can I fix the camera first?”

A gentle peck on her cheek gets her body thrumming, “Ay, ay, captain.” And you fall back onto the mattress, rolling until you reach the other side of the bed. You’re up and running to the bathroom… with the 9M Sex bag in your hand.

… Ellie’s never been more afraid(wet) than she is right now.

The set up is ready. One tripod simply wasn’t enough to capture all that you bring; Ellie found another thrown in the back of her closet and got it situated, angled and ready, at the foot of the bed where her phone and iPad lay. She doesn’t know why she’s so nervous like you didn’t just beat her walls down a few hours ago. This discarded blunt isn’t helping her, either.

Ellie’s confident that she’ll faint mid-stroke—

“Smells like pussy in here.”

Ellie blushes and turns at your call from the bathroom entryway. She’s engulfed in flames at the sight of you.

… You’re cute. She’ll give you that.

She scoffs a laugh around smoke at the alien antennas in your locs, and the green alien head on the triangle of your thong. Her eyes squint as she watches you pose in the doorway, bent over, squeezing your breasts. She scales your body as you prance over until you’re standing in front of her, staring down into her eyes.

“Whatcha think, space ranger?” You seduce, pushing your tits into her face, “Wanna teach a clueless little alien about sexual healing?”

“You’re… insane.”

“You love it,” … She does. Fuck, she does. You leer at her, “Is she rollin’?”

… Weed? Always.

… Camera. Camera!

Ellie drags her free hand up the back of your thigh while sticking her blunt between her lips, blindly reaching around to the camera. Her fingers feel around until a small beep slices through the weighted silence, the red light indicating the start of a recording.

“She is now.” Ellie takes one last rip, and it chokes her a bit, smoke wafting up to your nostrils before she stubs it out, discarding her tray and lighter to the side. The scent gets you giddy.

You hum, and Ellie falls back at your shove, and

she’s pounced on in no time. Your finger locks around her Spider-Man charm to pull her closer. You’re slow at first, teasing her mouth with yours before pecking, licking over her lips like a kitten while she gets handfuls of your bare ass. Boldness sparks in her chest when she thinks about the camera directly behind you; her hands move mindlessly, pulling your asscheeks apart until the string is right above your stretched asshole, your pussy lips swallowing the tiny triangle.

You moan into her mouth when the bunched fabric rubs against your clit; the fabric is already soaked through and sticky, and the kiss breaks with Ellie’s satisfied grin.

Adrenaline jolts through her body when her mouth trails down your jaw, a tight hand clamped around your soft cheeks to force your head wherever she needs it. She drinks up every small noise you breathe into the muggy air, mouth tickling the shell of your ear like a feather, Ride my fucking face, she whispers — demands; it sounds like she’s begging, and you gasp.

Do it, Ellie beckons, Show out, superstar.

Your girlfriend is so fucking sexy… But, of course, your dark thoughts win.

“S-Should I make, like… alien noises when I bust, or somethin’? E.T, phone home type shit?”

Ellie snaps with a glare, “Don’t kill my fucking vibe.”

“Okay, damn! My fault! Just tryna be cute for the vlog.”

“… It’s not a fucking vlog—“

“Day in the life of annoying artistic lesbians who are also gay—“

“I'm drying up.” Ellie’s palms dig into her eyes.

“No you’re not,” you purr before climbing up her torso. She grabs your waist before you reach her chin.

“Turn around. Want the cam to see your face.”

Your antennas wiggle on your head when you switch positions, “… Beep bop beepboop—“

You fall over in hysterics at Ellie’s hollered laughter. “Oh my — PFFFT —“

“STOP FUCKING LAUGHING!” You scream back at her, wiping tears from your face, “I’m tryna be cute!” You huff and swing a leg over her waist, and Ellie silences. The length of your back is on display for her; You’re cracking jokes about fucking alien sex but she’s not listening. How could she when your ass rests pert on her chest, when the sight of your dripping cunt and tight asshole is right there? Practically on her chin—

C’mere. Back up a little. She whispers, but you’re shy, only inching up her chest with sparkly eyes. Ellie rolls hers before wrapping her arms around your thighs to yank you back. She snickers and eyes the wet alien over your clit.

Her smile drops when a sly hand slides over your ass, index finger hitching into the string of your thong to pull it to the side. A moan leaves Ellie’s mouth when your pussy clenches from above, and you snort mockingly.

You’re easy as fuck. Such a cutie pie—

Shut the fuck up, you only laugh harder, and Ellie’s hands twitch, irritation sizzling in her fingertips. You’re so fucking annoying and she’s soaking. She’d drink you for days.

The next moments go by in a flash; your thong is shredded by icy hands, dangling limply from your waist as excited squeals leave your mouth. Ellie’s tongue is aggressive where it swipes all over your cunt, arms synched tight around the meat of your thighs to hold you still. Your smell intoxicates her, turns her mind lucid, makes her squirm and ache. Every second that passes, her excitement to re-watch your creation grows. She wishes she could see you.

You love cameras, attention — limelight. You deserve every inkling of praise; mutters against your cunt how good you are, how soft your pussy is, how bad she wants to make you cry. Ellie growls into you when your hips start rocking on her face, testing the waters with your hands planted on her thighs. Her arms drop flat on the mattress, allowing you full access to use her. Ellie’s tongue lays over her bottom lip, and your movements bolden. Your hips curl, slick smearing all over her mouth to the tip of her nose.

F—Fuck, baby, oh shit—

Ellie moans like she’s urging you to drench her entire face. Her tongue slithers inside your cunt and you choke out her name, nails sinking into her thighs. The muscle moves inside you with purpose, swirling up against your walls as they squeeze down. The cries that leave are too much for her; she swears there’s a puddle left on the blankets beneath her.

When you gasp, fuck, baby, cumming for you, Ellie whimpers and her thighs squeeze together. Her arms pull you as close as she can get you, slurping and sucking at your clit as it pulses through your orgasm. You beg her not to stop, thighs quaking around her head. Ellie alternates from flicking your clit to sucking cum from your slit, and she envisions your gorgeous eyes rolled back beneath her eyelids.

Wanna make me cum again, baby? Yeah? Your sonics tremble alongside Ellie’s thighs. She knows you're smiling like an angel at the lens and she sobs for more of your cum, more of your taste. Your moans pick up with the snaps of your hips once more.

F-Fuck me with your tongue, Ellie, You plead and she listens; Your walls melt around her, softness closing in around the wet muscle. Ellie’s whole body twitches when a soft hand rests above her boxers, right on her swollen bud and rubs. She's bucking up into your palm, desperate for friction, but you don't... give it. She groans against your lips and sucks you harder, and you squeal.

It doesn't take long for you to peak again; slick glides down Ellie's chin and drowns her, coats her throat in dreamy stickiness with her nails in the fat of your ass.

She slurps and eats you up until you're running up the mattress with her name melted on your tongue.

“How the fuck — oh my fuckin’ god, put your head down—“

Ellie snickers at you struggling to get her in the frame of the iPad camera. She comfortingly rubs over your ass, “There’s a camera right in front of you, babe—“

“Not good enough. I’m tryna watch you hit it.”

More jerking around. More flipping of the device. More sighs of annoyance before you strike gold. 80% of Ellie’s face is in frame… alongside her pretty titties. Mission somewhat accomplished. You watch her smile through the lens before sending a thumbs up. The iPad gets adjusted before you throw her one behind your head.

“Uhhh… So what now?”

“What do you mean.”

“I just… stick it in?”

“Mhm. Touch anywhere. Fuck me however you want. Make love to me. I’ll love it. I love you.”

Your voice turns her into the largest puddle of pink glitter. That deep, broken twinge gets her bones sizzling. “I love you more.”

Your hips buck back on her so hard that she almost falls over, but she managed to catch what you’re throwing. Barely. Her heart’s in her throat.

“Prove it…”

Ellie can see your smile and her teeth grit at your snicker.

“Fucking bottom.”

Your head gets pushed down into the sheet, and you smile, antennas standing tall. You grin so goddamn wide. Lottery. Lottery—

Everything is silent… Minus the little alert of the started recording when Ellie whispers against the curve of your ear,

“Don’t start that shit again. Don’t.”

You whimper as audibly as you can with a smushed cheek. It seems to push her; she’s reaching between your legs and your clit leaps in appreciation. In infatuation. Her fingers slosh between a deep brown and pink as she messily kisses your sweaty back.

“Behave.” Her rubs are deadly on your clit,

“I-I know we were joking earlier—“

“What now—“

“You like being called daddy?”

Everything stops. Your brain never fails to ruin your satisfaction. “No, what the fuck—“

“Damn… forreal?”

“Dude—“

“Just asking! You may proceed.”

When Ellie senses that you’ll finally shut the fuck up, she does, and you’re happy again.

“If you call me mommy, I’ll strangle you.” Ellie slurs wetly against the end of your spine. She tsks when she catches your ass and cunt squeeze down at the threat, walls sucking hard on the finger she hadn’t registered slipped in. Fucking high-fiving each other.

The curve in your spine deepens when a certain tip rubs up against your clit. Nestles right in between the plump of your lips. Slides back and forth slowly.

You’re so loud already… You’re watching your own nut build right in front of your eyes; You can’t help it. In front of your sexy ass girlfriend. Mainly due to the mirroring of Ellie staring at where you two connect with such thirst. She’s ravenous for you and you fucking love her.

“Fuck me, baby, please, please.“

“I like that.” She states plainly, so you get louder.

“Please, Ellie, please? Ple—”

A recording alert and a flash appears in your lens. Ellie holds her phone up as she captures you from the back; all over your spine, your ass, your holes that desperately twitch and beg for her entry.

“Shhh, gotchu, honey. Just playing with you.” She coos quietly. Your body wracks at her voice and she hides a smirk with teeth in her lip. “Wish you could see how much you’re leaking right now. So fucking sexy.”

No brain. Brainless. You’re brainless. Just Ellie and pleasure and happiness and love. Your blinks are lost. You may never go back to your dad’s again.

You can’t see her guide herself in but you feel it. Feel that nudge inside and your mouth gapes. The iPad tremors with your shaky movements as she presses in. She takes her time, captures every pant and jerk of hips before she halts them with a stern hand. When she’s fully sat inside you, she locks eyes with you in the front frame. Drinks in your muted pleads of her to wreck you however she pleases.

Ellie holds your gaze when she pulls out. She’s battling; conflicted between watching how your eyes welt and shine or memorizing the stretch of your cunt. Jade crystals flit back and forth. Anywhere they can reach.

H-How ya doin’ back there?

A harsh thrust from your girlfriend earns her a guttural noise from your lips before she mumbles, Think m’ good.

You are, baby, fuck—

Praise gets her going. She stops her own recording and tosses her phone some fucking where before hands close around your hips — tightly, so tightly. Holds you steady and still before she takes.

Ellie might not use this fucking iPad footage. The screen fucking rattles every time she hits and crests deep inside you, bruising you. All that’s caught in the frame is your lovedrunk eyes and your loud, slobbery mouth and glittery antennas bouncing on your head. Quick glimpses of Ellie’s tits jumping.

There’s a constant change of pace and it gives you whiplash. Her fucking goes from brutal to passionate to leisure to just fucking grinding while she’s fully submerged in your wetness. She’s experimenting, as she should! You treasure every grab and scratch and tug at your skin. She’s yanking and pulling at you like a fucking rag doll and your body goes lax.

So does your fucking tongue, apparently.

“The fuck did you just say?” Ellie spits down at you.

But she doesn’t stop. She fucks you faster, and you start sobbing.

“Y-You fucking heard me. I know you wanna—“

“I’m not saying that shit.” Her hips snap with intent to punish and the device falls from your hands, face planted deep in her soft blankets and tugging at her sheets.

“Just say it! Sayitsayit—“

Ellie groans like an animal from behind you. Grabs the back of your neck and shoves your face down into her sheets, muffling your shouts and begs to degrade the living shit outta you. Call you disgusting names that got the two of you in that complicated mess when you first met. The slapping of wet skin and your screams make her crazed and wound up so tight that she almost slips.

Ellie’s trying to ignore the piercing, tearful pleads of callmeaslutcallmeaslutimyourwhore but she’s leaking like a fucking faucet. Knows she shouldn’t reopen that fucking Pandora’s box when you’re so vulnerable, but she’s fuckdrunk and so are you.

“You gonna cum?”

You nod.

“You like when I’m mean to you?”

You nod faster and Ellie’s tummy squeezes. She scoffs a disgusting laugh before her body melds against your back, your angled knees slipping down the mattress so she’s fully laid on you, viperid tongue right at your ear…

It's just this once... You know she loves you... One little jumbled slur wouldn't do too much harm. You're begging her for it, aren't you?

Something in your mind breaks over the next minute and a half. The last memory you have is Ellie’s teeth nipping at your lobe before she whispered,

I love turning you into my nasty little slut.

And that was that. You entered another universe filled with white noise and colorful lights and Ellie and… a lotta wet. You could’ve been in the Atlantic with how drenched her mattress is right now. You owe her an apology.

Top 2 best nuts of your life and it’s not 2.

Your pussy’s still twitching around her even though she’s left you immobile. You hardly register her mumble against your back,

“I didn’t get my pic.”

You make a questioned, weak noise. Your index finger twitches, so she grabs your wrist to kiss it.

“I needa pic of your O face. I’m starting a collection. We gotta run it back again.”

Another broken wheeze. A death sentence is what you have. What your girlfriend will give you.

Ellie was a virgin when you met her… but was she really?

You have no idea what time of day it is, what day it is, or where your fucking cat has ventured off in the house, but you’re about seven —maybe eight— nuts deep, and your girlfriend is still fucking you.

You thought she was joking when she shoved her phone in your hand and instructed you to capture the moment right before you bust all over her, but she actually meant it… What the fuck does she think you are? Smart? Not in this fucking state. How do you even work this goddamn phone again?

C’mon, baby. I just need a good one. Give it to me ‘n I’ll stop.

Her pleading moan is a double-ended sword. Your legs are so sore from being held in air as she plowed you, but you’re also a deranged, sex-obsessed, girlfriend-obsessed lesbo. Do you really want her to stop or has the dopamine melted all your brain cells? The amount of mid-orgasm photos you’ve taken over the past hour could’ve filled a museum, but Ellie’s always dissatisfied, saying that she can barely see your face because you kept wiggling around. What does she expect!

She’s digging for that picture, though. Right at your cervix.

Been such a good little slut. Taking it so good. Just do this last little thing for me.

You’re nodding but you’re not listening. Bells and whistles ring in your ears as your filled hand shakes. The tightness in your walls steals your breath for a second.

Tell me when you're boutta cum.

You somehow manage to get a squeak out, barely audible, but Ellie gets the point. Her hands find refuge underneath your knees and bring them up higher while she mouths at your neck. It happens all over again; that cresting feeling right before you crash.

I love you. Make it good.

Ellie’s ears split at your shouts of her name, but she grins madly at the sound of frantic camera clicks coming from above her. She plants a doting kiss on your cheek.

You hope you did. You really hope you did.

taggiessssss thanks 4 waiting :3 @dyk3ang3l @ellieloml @inf3ct3dd @fromminaa @womenofarcane @sawaagyapong @mina-281 @aouiaa @bbglmfao @i00rii @sakiigami @starologist @southelroys @diddiqueen @trackinglessons @ellieswhorcrux @villainousbear @p4ison1vy @tohoko @yuckyfucky @dollyfleurs @elsbunny222 @sevsbimbo @amiorca @alittlextrahoney @gato-chino @topiatwin @r3wbeef @elliesatchel @muthafuckingstargirl @callmewhenyoukan @macaroni676 @draculurasblog @ellieaesp @@gravygranules @elsblunt

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x black!reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams angst #lesbian #tlou smut #in frame ✎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･#works 𖧧࣪

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bubblebaththoughts · 5 months

Text

Somnophilia

perv!Lo’ak x Fem!Omatikayan!Reader

kinkmas masterlist

warnings: 18+ MDNI! SOMNOPHILIA!!!, kinda dark, dubcon, pervy Lo’ak, Lo’ak is a little delulu, P in V, “unwanted” touches, Reader is Kiri’s best friend.

“Kiri! Stop it!” You shoved her off

“Ah- Someone has a crush!!!” Kiri teased

You both hear the flap of the tent-like marui pod swoosh open and then closed, neither bothered to look and see who it was as you two were basically in the middle of a wrestling match.

“You like him!” Kiri pointed in your face

“She likes who?” The person who walked in now spoke up, making you and Kiri finally look up to see who it was.

You knew who it was by his voice, Lo’ak. Kiri’s face dropped as she saw him, looking over at you for a second to widen her eyes.

“None of your business.” Kiri answered for you, crossing her arms at Lo’ak

He merely shrugged, passing the two of you to sharpen his hunting knife in the corner. He kept his head down, grinding the sharp edge against a stone as you and Kiri resumed your conversation.

You must have forgotten Lo’ak was there, and he could hear about your admiror“And then Nìtem was adjusting me and I-“

“Nìtem?” Lo’ak interrupted, almost dropping his knife “You like Nìtem?”

Your eyes snap up at him, a murderous glare.

“Brother, I suggest you keep your mouth shut.” Kiri warns, a stern look crossing her face

“Seriously? Nìtem!” Lo’ak scoffed

“What do you care?” You ask, your eyes narrowed at him

“I didn’t.” Lo’ak shook his head “I don’t care.”

“Mind your own business baby brother.” Kiri sassed

Lo’ak rolled his eyes, going back to sharpening his knife with a huff.

“I wanna go look at the stars.” You sighed, lying down on the floor and staring up at the low ceiling of the pod.

“Then go look at the stars.” Kiri suggested

“Are you going to come?” You perked your head up

“No it’s cold.” Kiri smiled “If you want to go out there, you’re on your own.”

“I’ll go.” Lo’ak said, lowly

“I’d appreciate it if you stopped listening in on my conversations.” Kiri’s eye glared around Lo’ak

“And I’d appreciate it if you would stop being such a baby.” Lo’ak sassed back to his sister.

“I’m going to look at the stars, I don’t care who comes.” You shrug, walking out by yourself

You hear footsteps beside you, Lo’ak’s footsteps.

“You really like Nìtem?” He asked softly

You shook your head, “No.”

“Then why-“ Lo’ak began

“Just because he came up in conversation doesn’t mean I like him.” You tell him, peeking back to see his face

You find an area that isn’t completely covered by trees so the stars were all visible.

“So why did you want to see the stars?” Lo’ak asked as you squatted down on the mossy ground

Your eyes snap up at him, “Why did you want to come out here with me?”

Your hands feel around the ground, making sure it was smooth so you could lay down to watch the sky.

“I asked you first.” Lo’ak countered as he got down on the ground next to you

“Because, I mean-. Look at them.” You pointed up at the sky. “They’re beautiful.”

“Yeah, they are.” Though Lo’ak’s eyes never left you as you were explained your reasoning

Your head turns to him, “So why did you come out here with me?” You repeat tour earlier question

“Just-“ Lo’ak began “Just gotta keep an eye on you.” He shrugged

You scoff, “If anyone should have an eye on them it should be you, Lo’ak.”

He mocks offense, placing a hand on his own chest, “How could you say that?”

“Whatever, troublemaker.” You roll your eyes, tilting your head back up to the sky “And stop staring at me, watch the sky.”

Lo’ak listens, for the first time ever, and readjusted himself to look up at the sky.

You are comforted by the silence of the world right now. The clan were all, for the most part, asleep. And soon you felt your eyes getting heavy and then very soon after that, you had drifted off to sleep.

Lo’ak hadn’t noticed until he had heard a light snore come from you. That’s when he looked over and noticed your sleeping form.

At first, he wanted to wake you up, but he felt it was best to leave you alone. But he didn’t want to leave you there, what kind of friend would he be if he left you there?

But it was cold out here, like Kiri had mentioned. He debated with himself, but figured if he just got close to you, your body heat would keep each other warm.

So Lo’ak scooted close to you, slipping his arm around your waist and holding you as close as he could allow himself.

Sleep wouldn’t come to Lo’ak like it did to you. Instead, all he could think about was how close he was to you, how the curve of your ass fit perfectly against his hips, how your head rested on his shoulder, how hard he could feel himself getting.

He tried to brush it off, go to sleep, anything. This wasn’t the best time, at all.

He found that his hands had a mind of their own as they gently squeezed at your hips, absentmindedly pulling you back on forth on to him for some sort of relief.

Lo’ak shifted against you, his eyes flickering down to your sleeping face. You wouldn’t mind, right? Fuck it, he didn’t care.

He leant down, his lips peppered kisses on your neck as his long fingers slipped under your loincloth.

You sighed, making Lo’ak pause, he peeked down at your face, you were still asleep.

He continued his venture to your pussy, pushing your loincloth completely out of the way.

He had to hold back a moan as his fingers separated your soft folds, Eywa, you were so wet, so wet for him, you just didn’t know that, yet. His finger circled your clit for a moment before he moved it down to your tight hole.

He edged to tip of his finger in, watching your face for a reaction. Once you didn’t react, he sunk his finger in.

Your body naturally reacted to him, your walls gushed around his single finger. He smirked down at you, you were being so good for him.

Slowly, he started to gently thrust his finger in and out of you. While somehow still asleep, you arch your back against him, a low breathy moan leaving your lips. You were so reactive.

Suddenly, the best idea he’s ever come up with popped into his head. He pulls his finger from you with a quiet “pop”.

Lo’ak maneuvered himself from behind you and gently laid you on your back, He slowly untied your loincloth and discarded it. Then he spread your legs until he could fully see your pretty pussy, all splayed out tor him, dripping wet.

“Fuck, sevin…” He muttered to himself lowly as he sunk in between your beautiful legs.

He admired your beauty for a second before he used his fingers to hold your pussy lips apart so he would have better access to your little clit.

He leaned in, taking your clit in his mouth, swirling his tongue on it. He began to hear your breathy sighs once again as he continued his advance on you.

You slowly begin to drift from deep sleep, feeling a beautiful sensation between your legs. Your eyelids flutter open and you can barely make out the silhouette of a figure hovering over your pussy. You soon realize that it's Lo’ak and he's definitely in between your legs, his tongue gliding along your sensitive skin.

“Lo’ak!” You gasped down at him

His eyes flickered up at you, a smirk falling on his lips before he looked back down to continue his meal.

His tongue is gentle and playful as it swirls in circles around your clit. His movements are slow and calculated as he teases you, running his tongue along your inner and outer lips. His breathing is heavy and you can feel his desire for you emanating from his body.

He slides his tongue back up to your clit and sucks it into his mouth, gently biting and licking it. You moan softly in pleasure and arch your back, pressing your hips up against his face. His hands wander up your body and he kneads your breasts, pinching your nipples between his fingers as he continues to pleasure you.

“Lo’ak… please.” You didn’t even know what you were asking for, you didn’t know if you wanted him to stop… or to fuck you with his tongue harder.

Your desire for him grows and you can feel your orgasm building. He moves his tongue faster and faster, pushing you over the edge. You cry out as pleasure washes over you, your orgasm rippling through your body. He doesn't stop until every last wave of pleasure has passed and you collapse onto the ground, exhausted.

He crawled up to you, hovering over you.

“What the fuck Lo’ak!” You cursed at him, out of breath

“You wanted it, sevin. Your body was calling for me.” He grunted into your ear, then leaning down to kiss, bite, and suck on your neck.

“Aha- Lo’ak- You shouldn’t.” You try to push him away

“Why not, sevin?” He whined to you “Made you feel so good, didn’t I?”

“You did but-“ You began

“But what? No need to fight me if you want this. C’mon pretty girl, don’t make me stop.” He was more focused on leaving love marks on your neck than to listen to you

“We might get caught.” You tried to reason with him

“That’s a risk I’m definitely willing to take.” He moaned against your neck. “Besides, no one is awake sevin, no need to worry. It’s just you and me, and the stars.”

“Hah… Okay.” You give in

Your hands wander his body, gliding up his torso to his shoulders, then his neck as he peppered kisses on yours.

“I’ve wanted you…” He leaned in, kissing your lips “…for so long.”

“Lo’ak…” You whined against him

“Patience, sevin.” He remarked, pulling away, he brings his hand to your cheek, his thumb rested on your lips as he observed your beauty.

You feel his hands on every inch of your body, exploring the curves of your hips, the swell of your breasts, and the contours of your face. His lips follow suit, sending tingles down your spine as he leaves a trail of kisses across your skin. His hands wander further, pushing against your inner thighs as his mouth finds its way to yours.

His kiss is passionate and hungry, his body pressing against you as he holds you close. You feel yourself melting into him, every inhibition and worry slipping away as you succumb to his touch.

He continues to explore your body, like his hands and lips never want to be still for a moment.

His hands wander further south, caressing your inner thighs before he slips a finger inside of you. Your eyes close and you moan with pleasure as he slowly moves his finger in and out of you. You feel his hard cock on your thigh and you open your eyes to see him looking at you with pure desire. He moves his finger faster, and you arch your back as the pleasure builds inside of you.

“You getting close again?” He asked, teasingly

“Mhm..” You moan, too embarrassed to use your words

He slides his finger out, making you whine.

He moves so that he is on top of you, pushing his cock against your slick pussy. You gasp as he slides inside of you, filling you completely. He moves his hips in deep theusts, driving you wild with pleasure.

“That feels better, doesn’t it?” He whispered to you as he brought his finger back down to your cunt, this time focusing solely on your clit

“Faster… please.” You moan in response, trying to grind against his slow pace.

“You got it princess.” He smirked, speeding up his thrusts

“Ah! Lo’ak!”

“It’s okay, you’re right there aren’t you?” His head leaned down to kiss on your neck again

“Yes!”

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, until you can't take it anymore. You cry out as you reach the peak of pleasure, thrashing against him.

“You’re squeezing me so good sevin, c’mon, make me cum pretty girl.” He moaned

You pull him against you tightly, letting him decide the pace now that you had already cum.

With a whimper, he’s cumming, and he’s cumming deep inside of you.

You feel his warmth as he fills you with his cum, marking you as his own. You lay there, panting, your body still trembling from the pleasure he has given you.

“Told you we wouldn’t get caught.” He smiled, reaching to your face to push your hair back

“Whatever,” You whine, pushing at his chest

“You don’t think I’m going anywhere do you?” He asked with a tilt to his head “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

He leans down, biting your neck gently and then whispers: “You’re mine now.”

taglist: @danniackerman @loaksslut

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cameronspecial · 2 months

Text

You Will Always Be My Business

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.5K

Summary: Y/N goes on her first date after her break up with Rafe and he has something to say about it.

A/N: This is inspired by this post.

Masterlist

Rafe and Y/N broke up about two months ago. Y/N couldn’t deal with Rafe’s possessiveness and addiction anymore, so she had to end their relationship for her own sanity. She was surprised by how easily he let her go because she expected more of an argument from him, but after his pleas to not leave him were ignored, he accepted their fate and left. Even with his vices, Y/N was heartbroken by their separation. There was a side to Rafe that only she got to see and it showed her the man he could be if he wanted to. It showered her in love with no limit.

Now, two months later, Y/N is getting ready for her first date with Aaron. She is nowhere near healed from the breakup; however, she needs to try to move on to help the process. Aaron knows about Rafe and also just got out of a relationship, so they are both on the same page with what this relationship is. She finishes putting her earrings in when the knock comes at her door. She jogs to the door and opens it with a smile. “Hey, Beautiful. Are you ready to go?” Aaron greets. She nods while grabbing her purse, “Yep, lead the way.”

———

The door to the car shuts with a thud and Y/N thanks Aaron for dropping her off. She jogs to her front door, fumbling with her keys as she places them in the lock. “The date must not have been that great if he isn’t coming inside.” She jumps at the voice coming from her side and turns toward Rafe. The porch sensor finally flicks on, illuminating him clearly. She doesn’t know what to say to him, so he continues. His head flicks toward Aaron’s car, “Might want to tell him you are safe. Don’t want him waiting there all night.” She turns to Aaron and gives him a thumbs-up. When Aaron looks unsure, she nods. The sound of his motor fades as she enters her house with Rafe in tow. “What are you doing here?” she questions, going through the motions of getting comfortable. Rafe drops to a squat to undo the buckles of her heels, “A little birdy told me that you were going on a date. I wanted to check in and see if he treated you like the gentleman you deserve.”

“We aren’t dating anymore, so how I get treated by other men is none of your business.”

Rafe stands to his full height, towering over her. His hands drop onto the back of the couch she is leaning against and traps her within his arms. He leans forward so she can feel his breath against her ear, “You will always be my business. My heart is completely and utterly yours and yours is mine. No matter how long we are apart, we will always be each other’s. So if you need time to play the field, then you take it because, in the end, you are going to come back to me.” Her breath hitches when he presses his lips against her cheek. He takes tentative steps back before leaving her alone to question the validity of his statement.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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shotoh · 11 months

Text

❝ SO… ASS, T!TS, OR THIGHS? ❞ feat. itoshi sae

— what’s his preference?

cw + tw. 18+, smut, minors dni, fem!reader, dom!sae, all characters are aged up to over their 20s, sae’s ogling you (respectfully and as your boyfriend), backshots, oral (f!receiving), pet names (sweetheart, love), lowkey exhibitionism, spanking, hinted creampie, brief religious imagery idk i’m putting this here just in case

notes. kaneshiro did not know the demons he unleashed when he decided to tell us sae has an ass fetish...

ass.

sae’s a very straightforward man who knows exactly what he likes and dislikes. and to put it bluntly, he loves your ass. the man has a canon ass fetish and we’re going to respect his tastes to the t.

that isn’t to say he doesn’t have an appreciation for your other assets (i’m sorry) though. he always ensures that every part of you is loved and revered, whether by buying you clothing that emphasizes your beauty in all the right areas or exchanging subtle (and/or not so subtle) touches, ghosting his hand or straight up palming your lovely curves.

but if there’s ever a chance you catch itoshi sae slipping, it’s because of your gorgeous ass.

regardless if he’s able to admit it or not, sae is the reason why you two can’t work out at public gyms anymore. 1.) because he gets recognized way too easily as a world renown professional athlete. and 2.) because he can never stop ogling your ass as you’re working out. and, for an added bonus: 3.) because of what ends up happening after you catch him doing so.

there have been countless times, you’ve found yourself in a squat or pose which focuses on your glutes. while in those positions, your ass looks incredible, and sae is always there to let you know even if he never says so out loud. you’d be hands and knees on your mat, ready to do a few sets of leg kickbacks, and the midfielder will be a couple machines away, sweat clinging to his workout gear as he reaches for the water bottle next to his feet.

when he takes a swig from his hydro, his ocean blue eyes are evidently at an angle. if you draw his line of vision, you’ll discover he’s watching you go through your exercises. it’s almost a ritual for him, to observe and admire the way your butt is accentuated with every stretch, your muscles flexing along your well-developed curves as your seamless shorts cling to you like a second skin. all this is done out of utmost respect, of course. at least that’s what sae likes to think.

you’re not at all oblivious to his wandering eyes, and sometimes you like teasing your audience, angling yourself in a way that allows him a clearer view of your movements. after you finish going through the motions, you stand up from the mat and stretch before turning over to send him a cheeky little wink. to add more oil to the fire, you bring your hand behind you and lift your cheeks, before releasing them to let them bounce before his eyes.

it’s downright hypnotic and sinful, but sae can’t help but indulge in the devil as he swings his towel over his shoulder. then, he immediately drags you in the showers with him to watch your ass bounce some more, pistoning his hips against you and splitting you on his cock under the running waters.

“what did you think was gonna happen when you pulled a stunt like that, sweetheart? such a naughty girl,” he grunts, muttering curses about how well you’re taking him while his eyes are glued on the flesh ricocheting off his thrusts. honestly, he has some nerve reprimanding you when he’s the one who started it with his obvious gawking, but if it means you’ll be blissfully filled with his cum and creaming all over his cock, you don’t have any complaints.

eventually, sae has his own private gym installed in his residence. which is what he honestly should have done in the beginning given all the money he has, but his trips to overseas matches doesn’t grant him many opportunities to use it.

that aside, your prior antics don’t really change, except the two of you are much more shameless since you don’t have to worry about stray eyes or cameras everywhere. usually, you find yourself only a few sets into your routine before sae is bending you over the equipment while pulling your leggings down to your ankles. yet somehow he’s not tearing a hole through them, to your astonishment.

he has some class at least, but that means little when the midfielder prys your asscheeks apart with firm hands, fixated on how your glistening pussy twitches and your flesh overlaps between his fingers. “what do you want, sweetheart?” he asks in a deceptively gentle tone given his grip that makes you feel so exposed.

you crane your head, features flustered and hot. “cock, sae.”

“where?” his stoic expression acts ignorant even when he already knows what you’re about to say.

“inside me!” you cry and you’re met with a quick spank that stings your ass.

“manners,” he reminds you, piercing teal eyes glowing at the mild red imprint he left behind.

your voice is quieter but shaky, “i-inside my pussy, please… i’ll behave...”

“that’s all i wanted to hear, my love.” he rewards you with his lips over the faint mark on your skin, tenderly soothing the pain while worshiping you all the same before he moves away to line himself to your hole. he enters slowly, loving how your tight, yummy walls take him as his length gradually disappears. your nails dig into the leather beneath you, and you rasp a sensual cry as his cock deliciously kisses all the right spots inside you over and over again.

#sae x reader #sae smut #blue lock smut #bllk smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #itoshi sae smut #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae x you #sae x y/n #blue lock imagines #blue lock headcanons

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wynnyfryd · 6 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 15

part 1 | part 14 | ao3

“Please please please please pleeeeease,” Dustin whines, tugging hard on the hem of Steve’s shirt.

“Dude get off me.” He slips the last of the leftover containers into the fridge, slams the door shut, and turns to glare at Dustin, who oh-so-conveniently had to step out after dinner to ‘walkie Lucas about a homework question’ and left Steve and Eddie to do the washing up.

In the absence of a Henderson buffer, the air between them had pretty immediately gone stale. Hesistant and charged, overly formal; fucking weird. Eddie moves like a weirdo, sways his hips out of the way of counter corners instead of walking a straight path, like some swaggering drunken pirate, and he spent the last ten minutes awkwardly traipsing around the perimeters of the kitchen as if Steve were a landmine he might set off at any time.

So yeah.

Steve’s feeling a little ungracious at the moment. “Seriously, what is so important that you can’t just show it to us tomorrow?”

“Ummm, scientific discovery? Wonder at the natural world around us?? Where’s your sense of adventure, Steve?”

“The last time I followed my sense of adventure out to your cellar I almost got—” His eyes cut sharply to Eddie, who’s doing a terrible job of pretending not to eavesdrop. Steve scrambles for a way to end his sentence that isn’t eaten by a creature with a razor flower for a face. “—uh, mauled.”

“Mauled?” Eddie asks, eyes bugging out. “Henderson, I’m not following you into the woods to get to turned into some feral thing’s chew toy, man.”

“It was fine,” Dustin insists, covertly kicking Steve in the shin.

Steve thinks of his NDAs and plays along. “Y-yeah. Totally fine. It was just, like, a rabid raccoon or something.”

“That… does not sound fine.”

“It’s cool,” Steve tries to reassure him (no idea why, really; that cellar’s nightmare fuel.) He throws a dish towel over his shoulder, nods his head decisively. “I’ll bring my nail bat with us.”

“You’ll fucking bring your what?”

—

Steve drags his nail bat through the leaves on the narrow trail, the wood thudding along behind him as they make their way to the cellar, a detached storm shelter at the far edge of the lot. It’s dark out here. And cold. His breath hangs in a puff of wet fog when he mutters, “Seriously, Dustin, this better be Noble Prize worthy stuff.”

“It’s Nobel,” Eddie says.

“Huh?”

“The, uh- the prize? It’s No-bel.”

“….Well, that’s stupid.”

“Why would it be Noble?” Eddie snorts, but his eyes are curious and kind.

“Because— because you have to be Noble to earn it? I don’t know!” Eddie laughs like he finds the answer cute. Steve doubles down. “That makes perfect sense, and you know it. A Noble Prize for a Noble Effort. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” Dustin grunts as he unlocks the cellar doors. “Now come on.”

—

The cellar's just as creepy as Steve remembers: low ceiling, dusty cement blocks, a single, sad lightbulb dangling on a string. He eyes the dark corner on the far side of the squat room, bricked up now but it wasn't before; there were tunnels under here, once, vast networks like blood vessels to the beating heart of a monster Steve still can't fully comprehend. He grips the bat a little tighter.

"—Shit," Dustin says suddenly, cutting himself off mid-ramble about how cool his latest science project is, how it puts Cerebro to shame. "I forgot the remote." "You want me to go get it?" Steve offers. "No!" Dustin says it in a rush, then stammers, "No, that's okay. You won't know what to look for." He seems nervous. Jittery. Maybe the cellar creeps him out, too. "Be right back, just wait here."

"Grreeeat," Eddie replies as Dustin jogs back up the stairs, cupping his hands around his mouth to call sarcastically after him, "We'll just be loitering in your murder basement, then; take your time!"

With Dustin gone, there’s nothing to do but stand there metaphorically twiddling their thumbs. Steve’s idly swinging his bat in a wide sweep around his calves, and Eddie’s staring at the ground, scuffing the toe of his shoe into a streak of dirt, arms crossed over his chest, head bowed. He’s humming something that Steve can't quite make out, but it doesn't sound like the stuff he usually blasts from his van. It's softer. Easy. Almost pop.

“Hey, wait a sec...” Steve holds up a finger, turning his good ear toward the stairs. The leafy crunch of footsteps isn’t getting any quieter, and now it sounds like there are two pairs, getting louder; circling back. “You hear that?”

Eddie nods. Looks serious and spooked. Steve raises his bat, a sudden spike of fear; he creeps over to the stairs. “Hey,” he calls to the darkness. The rustling noise picks up, a swish of movement through the brush, and then the crrrrroak of something metal. Something heavy, groaning on its—

Hinges. Hinges. Son of a bitch, the cellar doors. “Hey!” he shouts, breaking into a run. “HEY—!”

BOOMMMM.

The doors slam shut with a heavy crash and the grating clink of more metal scraping metal. Steve bolts up the stairs, shoves with all his strength against the slanted doors above him. The doors don’t budge. “What the fuck?” Eddie shouts from the bottom of the stairs.

Steve pounds against the doors. “HENDERSON?”

Eddie comes up to join him, using his forearms like battering rams to try to bash the doors open. His voice cracks when he hollers, “Henderson, for real, man! I-if this is some kinda- some kinda sick fucking joke it isn’t funny!!”

“It’s for your own good!!” a voice that isn’t Dustin yells through the gap in the doors, and Eddie squawks, “MIKE?”

Mike?? MIKE?? Oh, that goddamned ungrateful, conniving little—

“We just wanted you two to talk to each other!” Mike says.

Dustin adds, “For real this time."

“Yeah, for real this time!”

Steve punches the doors, and Eddie bares his teeth like he can scorch a hole through the metal with the heat of his glare alone. “Wheeler, you are SO dead!!”

“So fucking dead!!!” Steve agrees.

---

part 16

tag list below the cut, comment if you want to be added tomorrow (or dm me if you want to be removed)

@acedorerryn @ahsokatanoss @annabanannabeth @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awolfstudio @bananahoneycomb @bronwenmarie @burymestanding @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @cr0w-culture @cuips-not-cute @dawners @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @evillittleguy @fandomfix8 @foolofentirelytoomanyfandoms @goodolefashionedloverboi @gregre369 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @heartsong18 @hellion-child @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @messrs-weasley @nburkhardt @noodle-shenaniganery @novelnovella @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #st fic #my writing #my fic

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moonstruckme · 6 months

Note

Hi I love your poly marauders fics so much!! Is it possible for you to write one where the reader has to go to the doctors but she absolutely hates the doctor and needles. Totally fine if not 💗

Thanks lovely!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Remus has strong-armed you into looking at your ankle again. Almost literally strong-armed you, with James as his lackey, your curly headed boyfriend keeping an arm wrapped around your shoulders that’s as affectionate as it is binding. Remus gnaws on his lip as he prods at your swollen leg, making quiet sounds of discontent at whatever he feels.

He looks up at you, brows knit together. “The swelling hasn’t gone down at all, dove.”

“It will soon,” you say faithfully. “It’s only been a couple of days.”

“You should at least be able to walk on it by now.”

“I can,” you reply. “It doesn’t feel great, but I can walk on it.”

He gives you a deadpan look, and you can feel James’ silent chuckling against your side. “That’s not what I mean,” Remus says. “I’m sorry love, but you need to get this checked out.”

You open your mouth, but Remus reads the argument in your face before it passes your lips.

“By a professional,” he clarifies.

You huff, crossing your arms in front of you. “What’re they gonna tell me that I don’t already know? Rest, elevate, etcetera, etcetera.” You roll your eyes. James begins to sweep his thumb back and forth on your shoulder, trying to pacify you. “There’s no point in going into some cold office for that.”

“Unless it’s more serious than we think,” Remus counters. His eyes are worried, but his mouth is set in a firm line. “If you’d only twisted it, it wouldn't have swelled up this badly. And even if it isn’t that bad,” he goes on, bulldozing over the protest that comes to your tongue, “at least they’ll be able to give you a real compress. These bandages get too loose, which probably isn’t helping with the healing.”

“It’ll heal if I give it time,” you say stubbornly, pulling your leg from his grip and starting to rewrap it yourself. “Stop worrying so much.”

“Dove.” It’s his no-nonsense voice. “Our deal was that if it wasn’t getting better after three days, you’d go get it looked at.” He ducks to make you meet his eyes, softening when he finds them. “It’s time, sweetheart.”

You’ve just finished rebandaging your ankle and are deliberating between arguing more or just sitting in silent opposition when you hear the rattle of Sirius’ keys. Remus rolls his eyes (out of habit at this point, you think) when he kicks in the door.

“You’d think I was eighty, hungry at five thirty in the after…whoa.” Sirius trails off as he senses the sober mood in your home, and his eyebrows pinch when his gaze lands on you. “What’s got you so riled up, lovebug?”

James hugs you tighter to his side, impervious to your sulking as he rubs your upper arm roughly. “She’s gotta go to the doctor,” he says.

“Aw.” Sirius pouts, coming the rest of the way towards you to drop a kiss on your head. “Ankle’s not doing so well?”

“If anything, it’s getting worse,” Remus sighs.

“Is not,” you snipe back.

“It’s not going to be as bad as you think, baby.” Sirius squats in front of you, taking your hand in his. “Let’s just go now, yeah? Get it over with.”

Even Remus looks surprised at that. “Alright,” he says after a second, “yeah, that’s a good idea.” He stands, and so does Sirius, pulling your hand upwards with him like you’ve any likelihood of following it.

You look at James for help. Even he seems resolved, but his eyes reveal more sympathy for your plight than the others’. “I know you’re nervous,” he says softly, hand brushing your cheek to slot a strand of hair behind your ear, “but do you really think we’re gonna let anything bad happen to you?”

You sigh, and when James stands you let him take you with him, his arm around your waist to support some of your weight as you limp out to the car. Sirius forgoes his usual place in the passenger seat to sit with you and James in the back, the both of them providing silent support by way of half-hugs (James) and a steadying hand on your leg (Sirius). It’s very difficult to be cross with people who are showering you in affection, but you manage. You sit sandwiched between them with an immovable frown on your face, spiraling deeper and deeper into your thoughts until suddenly you look up and the car has stopped.

Remus has turned around to face you from the driver’s seat. “C’mon, dove,” he says, and you notice that you’re the only one with your seatbelt still on. You take a breath, finding that your throat has become clogged with tears you didn’t feel coming on. You bite down on your lower lip, hard.

“Angel,” James sighs, and your guilt for putting them through this almost rivals your anger at them for putting you through this. He unbuckles your seatbelt himself, hauling you up against his side. Your face is hot with shame and unshed tears. “It’s a thousand times worse in your head than it’s actually gonna be, my love.”

Remus looks genuinely apologetic as he reaches over from the front seat, rubbing your knee. “I hate that you’re having to do something that makes you so anxious, sweetheart, but you’re in pain. We can’t make it better all by ourselves.” You meet his eyes, and he pushes his advantage, giving your knee a little squeeze. “Let’s just go inside, I’m sure it won’t take long. Okay, darling?”

“Okay,” you assent, following Sirius out of the car and allowing him to tug your arm over his shoulders, helping you hop towards the door. “Sorry I’m making this so difficult.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Sirius insists, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. James and Remus are both quick to agree. They’re laying on the affection rather thick, and any other time you’d be irritated by the delicate flower treatment, but right now you appreciate it. “We all have things that freak us out a bit,” Sirius goes on. “Remember when James saw that baby snake behind our place?”

“Ugh.” James shudders. “We agreed not to talk about that. I still think we should move.”

Sirius grins at his boyfriend’s misery, lightly bumping your hip with his. “There you have it, lovely. We’ve all got our things. So don’t worry about this, yeah? We’ll stay with you, and afterward we can hunt down Remus’ comfort chocolate.”

Remus huffs but doesn’t protest. Later, he’ll bring the chocolate out of hiding to give it to you himself.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 14 days

Text

Called to Duty 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You’re tired. You’re always tired these days, but you gotta do what you gotta do. That’s going to be your life from now on. Not what you want, but what you need.

You wait in line at the grocery store. Their in-store sourdough isn’t as good as the bakery but you can’t spare the extra dollars. You have your essentials; chicken, rice, some broth for those days when you can’t quite keep solid food down. Some fruits too for the mornings, and a sneaky pack of cookies.

The woman behind the counter packs up here bag. She rubs her hip as you swipe your card, as if she can feel your pain. You suppose she has few aches and pains from years of standing behind that till. She hands you your receipt and asks if you need help. It’s two bags, nothing too heavy. You slide them into the rolling bag you dragged down with you and head out.

You’re almost breathless as you get through the front doors. You get dizzy spells but the doctor says it’s just a dip in your blood pressure. You sit on a bench outside the grocery store and rub your stomach as you wait for it to pass.

As you close your eyes against the springtime sunlight, a familiar tone nestles behind your ear. The timbre sends a shiver up your spine and your hug your middle out of instinct. You don’t look over as Thor’s rolling baritone wafts through the air.

You stand and pull your bag in the other direction, as fast as you can. The wheels hit a line in the pavement and twists, the handle falling from your hand. It clatters to the ground and you hurried scramble to pick it back up as an apple rolls close to the top. You squat halfway and lift the handle, glancing over as silence pervades.

Your eyes meet his and you cringe. You quickly turn away as he pulls the phone away from his ear and tilts his head. You touch your stomach again. Did he notice? Did he care? He hadn’t before.

“Eh, been a while, kitten,” he purrs after you as his footfalls quickly descend, “where are you off to?”

You ignore him, turning towards the curb as you look up and down the street. You need to get out of here. He stands beside you and you flinch as he puts his hand on your lower back.

“Why’re you running away?” He says.

You scoff, “don’t tell me I’m the one running away.”

You drop your arm and drag the bag off the curb and across the street, as quickly as you can move yourself. You know he’s following. You know him better than he thinks you do. You turn down towards the pharmacy.

“You look good. Healthy,” he remarks, “you’ve... filled out.”

“Get away from me,” you hiss.

“Don’t be rude. I’m just checking in on you, as any good person should.”

You stop short and face him defiantly. His cheek dimples and reflects a memory back at you. The day you told him. The day he asked who you thought the father was. The day he shrugged off his responsibility on the back of rumours.

‘Couldn’t possibly be mine. How could you know for sure? How could anyone?’

That grin. That taunting grin.

“You shouldn’t be worried about being a good person, you should be a good father,” you sneer, a crack in your voice. “And you are neither.”

He laughs, “you always were dramatic, kitten, but the way you meow for me... I hear the hormones make you wild--”

He reaches to touch your cheek and you swat him away, “don’t.”

“One last time, for old time’s sake,” he coaxes.

“You are so gross,” you snip.

“You can’t be mad at me because you opened your legs--”

You push him. Stupidly. You shove him in the stomach with one hand. He barely reacts as you turn and stomp away with your groceries rolling at your heels.

Your eyes sear hotly as you swallow back the protest. It was only him. There was no other possibility. No one believes. Who knows who she slept with? She was always down at the bar, wasn’t she?

“I miss those claws, kitten,” he calls after you.

You grit your teeth and storm towards the brick facade of the pharmacy. You shake as you try to fish out your keys. You let go of the rolling bag in frustrating as you dig down in your purse. The cart falls over again and your keyring jangles out onto the pavement with it.

You let out a grunt and stand, staring at the catastrophe as the apple rolls out of the bag. You lower your head and steel yourself for the reach. Even at four months, with just a bit of belly, everything is so uncomfortable.

A thick hand scoops up the keys then the apple. Sy hooks two fingers around the handle of the bag and stands. You look at him, lip quivering, and quickly bat away your tears. You dab your eyes with your knuckles.

“Here,” he stands the bag up and drop the apple inside, then holds out your keys.

You sigh, “you.”

He frowns as you take the keyring, “me? I was only helping--”

“Yeah, because you feel bad for me. Please,” you shove your keys in the door, “don’t.”

“Feel bad? No. That’s not why... I... people should help each other. Especially those in need.”

“Yeah, yeah, I need to close my legs. I need to figure it out,” you huff and pull the bag through the door and shove it through, “thanks. I’m good.” You take a step inside and stop, angling back to him, “you forgot your stuff at the pharmacy. They’re holding it at customer service--”

“It’s yours--”

“Stop,” you put a hand up, “okay? Just stop. You can go get your money back then.”

His thick brows draw together and he grazes his hand over his buzzed hair, “I saw you talking to Thor.”

You snort, “yeah, I ran into your buddy. So what?”

He crosses his arms and shifts his stance, his works boots dragging loudly, “you’re mad at him.”

You close your eyes and suck in a breath, “I don’t want to talk about this, especially with you. Fine, go back to him, tell him how pathetic I am--”

“Why would I do that?” He sounds genuinely confused.

“I’m not stupid. You were always down at The Horn together. Whatever this is, I’m not falling for it.”

He squints then looks past you. Your turn and inch the door towards the frame. He steps forward and slaps a hand against the other side, holding it open.

“He is not a man or a friend if he’s done this to you,” he says. You arch a brow as his blue eyes meet yours, “you deserve better.”

He eases the tension in his arm as you lean on the door. He lets it snap shut and you wince at the click. You grasp the latch but don’t turn it as you listen through the wood. The friction of his hand drags down the wood.

“I will give you better,” you barely make out his mutters as the tread of his boot scrapes on the pavement. You twist the lock and fall back against the wall. What is he doing? It has to be a trick. It has to.

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #drabble #series #au #backwoods au #sandcastle #called to duty

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albatmobile · 1 month

Text

parent teacher conferences and other places to meet a pornstar

next: [2] coming soon: [3] [4] || ao3

𓅪 Rated: E | 4.5k includes: cam girl AU, teacher AU, masturbation, public sex, caught, fingering, voyeurism, come swallowing, facial, deep throating misunderstandings, confessions

𓅪 cam girl fem!reader x jason todd, eventual cam girl fem!reader x roy harper, eventual cam girl fem!reader x jason todd x roy harper

You hated people your age. Always quick to judge and even quicker to shun.

Kids, on the other hand? You could deal with them.

Kids couldn’t turn their noses up at you, they couldn’t gossip about you and they definitely couldn’t use Google. If they could, they’d find your not so clean history. You’ve never been fucking arrested- none of that shit. No, you needed to make up extra money to compensate for the low paycheck you take as a teacher during the day by becoming a camgirl at night.

It hasn’t been a problem at this school yet, but it always seems to pop up at the most inconvenient times. Eventually, a dad catches whiff of it, their wife gets jealous and you’re quietly let go. This is your third school in four years and you didn't really want there to be a fourth.

That’s why you dread running into parents who come to pick up their kids.

You catch this all-telling gaze of a redheaded man from across your classroom. He’s helping Lian with the cupcakes she’d brought in for her birthday today and you quickly adjust your glasses, hoping he won’t recognize you.

The hope is in vain.

Your smile is strained as he makes his way over to you with his little girl and leftover cupcakes in tow. His gate is too assured, his eyes too jovial. So, you do what you do best: ignore the parents.

You bend down to Lian’s level to help her remove the cupcake wrapper from the red cupcake her dad’s given her. “Did you have a good birthday in class today, Lian?” She nods excitedly, chomping into the dessert with gusto. “Do you have any fun plans for tonight?”

Your question is obviously for Lian, but it’s her dad who responds.

“Do you?”

You clear your throat, standing from your squat as you face the redheaded man. This isn’t the first time you’ve been hit on but it always throws you off guard when it happens.

You shut him down easily, “Grading Lian’s test from today. Isn’t that right?”

Her pigtails bounce up and down, “It was about the different types of clouds in the ‘mosphere.”

“Atmosphere,” You correct her with an amused smile.

Much to your chagrin, he continues on like you haven’t rejected him. “You look like someone I know of,” He trails off as if trying to place your face.

Mr. Harper- Roy, you correct yourself, looks to be in his mid-30’s. He has a decent amount of stubble, crows feet grace the corners of his verdant eyes and his hair looks like it used to be a brighter orange than the faded strawberry color it is now. He’s exactly the type of audience you cater to on your porn channel.

“A person you know of,” You repeat his words with an uninterested drawl. You wish the conversation would resolve itself or just fucking end. This beating around the bush shit isn’t for you. “Odd phrasing, but alright.” You need to change the subject and quick. “I’ll be seeing you at the open house next week, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, babe.”

You barely contain your eyeroll as you correct him on your name. “It’s Miss,” You tell him your last name again sternly.

“You’re killing me, Miss,” He says your last name, obeying your correction.

“Tragic, I’m sure. Anyway,” You continue on unphased as you focus on saying goodbye to Lian.

He finally moves out of your classroom but lingers in the doorway, “Have you… Were you ever a librarian?”

Don’t reveal anything. Don’t reveal anything.

You calm your breathing. It’s too pointed of a question for him to not know the video that made you famous: a librarian who gets bent over any and every surface in the library.

“I’ll see you next week, Mr. Harper,” Is all you respond.

You’re fucked.

➸💋➸

The Sunday before the parent teacher conference, you’re scheduled to stream.

Most of your material is solo streams and uploads, which makes it easy for you to make content and stick to a schedule. The few production videos you’ve done required a lot of coordinating and planning in advance. It’s a total hassle. That’s why you like your streams. You’re able to wear what you want, use whatever toys you want and you get to pick the location.

The library closest to you is always deserted, especially so on the second floor where the old Fax Machines are stored. The second floor holds records, old newspapers and magazines as well as a smaller collection of nonfiction. Total snoozefest for some, but the perfect public filming spot for you.

The nonfiction section is a separate room from the rest of the second floor and is hidden behind the shelf of vintage magazines. You’ve filmed in here a few times before, but never streamed. This is why you’ve chosen to come in around two hours before they close to eliminate as many possible chances for someone to catch a peak.

You’re giddy as you wave to the librarian who always seems to be behind the counter as you make your way up to your favorite spot. You’re wearing a cotton, white wrap dress, no bra, red thong and heels. The light material shows off everything. Coupled with your signature glasses, you look irresistible.

There’s one desk inside the room, right in the middle that you quickly shove out of the doorway view. The heavy desk is the bane of your existence, especially in your fucking heels, but this way no one can see you unless they literally walk into the room. It’s not fool-proof, but it’s what you’re working with.

Always punctual, you start your stream right on time.

avid_reader began stream

Slowly, viewers trickle in as butterflies stir in your stomach. No matter how many times you stream, you always feel a rush of anxiety as soon as you click ‘Start.’

Private streams are a whole different ballgame.

Though you do offer it, you charge a steep price for private cams. So far, only your top fan has been able to meet that price more than once. The dude isn’t a creep, nor did he have any kinks you weren’t comfortable with, hell, the dude was pretty funny too. Out of all the fans to get you in private, you’re glad he’s the only reoccurring one.

From his requests, you can definitely tell he’s an ass man. You also know that he likes when you wear clothes like you are today: inconspicuous yet revealing. Though he’d never say no to your lingerie, he always preferred tight fitting, see-through tops and short skirts more so than babydolls and matching sets.

Before you get too into everything, you tease the camera you’ve set up on the desk with your nipples that poke through the fabric. You adjust your glasses that fall down the bridge of your nose as you do so, earning you your first tip of the night.

You like to wait for your top fan to join, or at least give him a chance to, but you don’t have to wait too long before his name pops up.

inmyarsenal: this is gona b gud

Though his typing is horrendous, it easily brings a smile to your face, something he notices and tips generously for.

It’s going to be a good night.

You reach your first goal and slowly draw your tits out of your dress out into the open. Your nipples are already perky as you grasp your hands around them and squeeze. Your nipples poke through your fingers as you jiggle your grip around your breasts

inmyarsenal: someone’s gonna walk in on you babe

You bite your lip, looking toward the empty doorway, “I’ve been lucky thus far.”

inmyarsenal: i want t walk in on u baby. sO good for me

He sends another tip, completing your next goal all on his own.

“Eager today, aren’t we?”

Your stomach flips, knowing what comes next. You shoot another worrying gaze toward the doorway before scooting the chair back a bit from the desk so the camera can see down to your knees as you spread them. Your red thong is on full display for your thousands of viewers.

You pull up on the fabric, leaving the thong to disappear into your pussy lips as you do. You tease a bit longer like this before finally puling the fabric away and exposing yourself fully.

You spend a few minutes slowly rubbing your cunt until you feel wet enough for what comes next. You tease the egg vibrator against your entrance, noting how the tips come in what seems like every second now. Within a minute, you reach your next chat goal- this one allows the tippers in the chat to set the speed of your vibrator. The more they tip, the longer they get control over it.

You slip the egg inside of you with a breathy moan. You use the silicone string that hangs out to continue to make the vibrator bob in and out of your hole, moving the camera to offer an up-close view of it.

No one in the chat gets a chance to call dibs before your top fan swoops in with a tip big enough to control the remote for over 15 minutes. You both know that you won’t last that long with him on the controls.

He starts off strong tonight, easing you into it for only so long before he ups the ante. Your settings on the app allow your viewers to control the tempo with their own vibration patterns that they create, meaning every single sinful vibration is caused personally by him. It makes it that much better.

Today, however, it’s like he has a personal vendetta against you or something with he way he clearly wants you to leave the library with a squirt stain on your dress. Hell, he’d probably tip extra just for you to film your walk of shame, too, the fucking sadist.

“Fuck,” You can’t hold back your moans any longer, not caring how loud you’re being when it feels this good.

One hand teases your nipples and squeezes your tits while the other rubs desperately at your clit. Your legs are spread over each side of your chair at this point, though they’re not much support when they’re shaking this hard.

You’re about to come when you notice him out of the corner of your eyes.

“Shit!”

He’s not the ugliest person to orgasm to, that’s for sure. The man, however, is someone you fucking know.

ABORT! ABORT!

If anything, your top fan seems to pick up that someone’s walked in on you and uses the last few seconds of his control to push the vibrator to its limit. Your hips fly from the chair, arching as you orgasm with a pathetic whine.

You end your stream, shaking and panting while your come-hazed mind struggles to address the Wayne ward in front of you.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” You rush, trying to regulate your breathing.

You’ve already covered yourself up with your dress, but your thong is around your ankles and there’s no nonchalant way to fix it. That, and the large wet stain that now adorns the lower half of your dress from the front and the back.

Luckily, as soon as you ended the stream, your vibrator ceased, though it still remains inside of you.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

You’re at a loss of what to say, what to do, let alone where to put your come-dripping hands as you stare wide-eyed at the gorgeous man in front of you.

Normally, you’d think it was a pick up line, but no, you have met before. Many times.

Your mother had been Bruce Wayne's elementary school teacher. Each year you were invited with her to the annual Wayne Gala. Even after her passing years ago, the invitation still came, now addressed to you. Throughout the years of attending, you’ve met him a couple of times, but never much past the standard ‘how are you’ and never memorable enough to even remember his name.

This is a lot more than a ‘how are you.’

“I don’t really know how to answer that right now.”

Surprisingly, he snorts, “I can grab some towels from the bathroom for you.”

You just nod dumbly, half planning to escape the second he turns his back, half wanting to stick around and see how this all plays out.

While he’s gone, you pull off your thong and shove it in your bag along with the vibrator you pluck out.

Moments later, he returns with what seems like the entire roll of paper towels. He hands them to you, eyes never leaving your face before moving out to roam about in the room over.

You try to hurry up, wiping yourself down and packing up your shit at record speed. You walk into the other room sheepishly, paper towels still scrunched up in your hands as you meet his quirked brow and blank face.

"Thanks," You say, hoping he won't bring it up.

Luckily, he doesn’t.

“So,” He draws out the word. You’re honestly surprised he hasn’t left at this point. “You like nonfiction?”

You burst out laughing, something he appreciates with a small smirk as he turns over a title in his calloused hands. “I just like that it’s private up here,” You tell him your actual favorite genre before asking what’s been on your mind. “You’re Dick, right?” Out of all the Wayne ward’s names, this is the only one that springs to mind.

He huffs, putting the book back on the shelf, “Fuck no.”

“Sorry,” You hesitate. Should you just leave him alone and flee with whatever little dignity you have remaining?

“I didn’t mean it like that,” He sounds apologetic. “It’s Jason.”

That name does sound familiar.

“Jason,” You repeat out loud without meaning to, something he notes with a small smile.

“That’s the one,” He drawls with a deep, gravelly voice. Most normal people would respond with their own name, however you just sit there in your squirt covered dress as he flits into the nonfiction room you’d just been in. Oddly enough, he asks, “Can’t really recall your name either, if I'm being honest, kid.”

“‘M not a kid,” You mumble in embarrassment, holding your laptop case against your wet spot. You’re 25 for fuck’s sake.

“Probably a good thing considering what I just saw,” He jokes lightly, though his attention appears to be on the books in front of him. You can tell his gaze is slightly unfocused, though.

You tell him your name as you make to leave. “Maybe I’ll catch you around,” You say.

His emerald eyes finally lock onto yours again, “Maybe you will.”

➸💋➸

At open house the next day, all the dads stare at you, while the moms result to glaring at you.

It’s what you’re used to.

You’re hot as fuck, it’s why you do porn. It’s why men like Mr. Harper think you have a familiar face.

Speaking of, the man’s been well-behaved for the most part. Aside from his lingering emerald gaze, he remains in the back of the room with crossed arms as he leans back in Lian’s chair.

The button-up you’re wearing shows off your lofty cleavage and tucks nicely into your skintight pencil skirt. To someone like Roy, you assume you look like a walking wet dream. Your hair’s up in a bun and your signature glasses as your red heels clack along the laminate floors.

You go over your plans for the remaining half of the year as well as the project and letter the kids had created for the open house. It’s an hour long event with time left for questions after, meaning you’re fucking drained by the time you’re ushering the last of the parents out the door. Surprisingly, Mr. Harper doesn’t linger, nor does he actually say anything to you. It’s entirely odd, but you’re not complaining.

You need a fucking drink.

You didn’t plan to go to a club, it’s totally not your scene. Somehow, tonight it feels right.

It’s a seedy place, but the drinks are strong and cheap and it’s exactly what you need after a long day like this one. You’re still in your teaching attire as you settle into the practically empty bar. Monday nights and clubs don’t exactly mesh well, meaning it’s close to dead but that’s fine with you. You’re just here for a few drinks, then maybe treating yourself to some Chinese food.

You let your hair down, shaking it out as the lanky bartender comes over to take your order.

There’s a man across the bar from you. His face is obstructed by a red hoodie as he asks the bartender for something. If you tilt your head just right, you're able to get a better look at the white tuft of hair hanging prominently in front of his eyes. It kind of reminds you of Jason…

It’s as if he feels your curious gaze on him because his sharp one flickers your way.

Green eyes meet your wide ones.

It is Jason.

Do you make the first move, or does-

Before you can finish your mental question, he raises a questioning brow your way as if asking for an invitation to come closer. You grant it, moving your purse over so he can sit.

“Hey,” You say as his hulking form sits down beside you.

“Not feeling nonfiction tonight?” He gestures down to the book you’d been reading before he approached.

You blush, hating how easily he has a hold over you.

Though you’d only planned to stay for a drink, you order another just to keep the conversation going. The two of you talk about everything and anything. The one topic the two of you keep coming back to is books and he doesn’t exactly let you off the hook for the library.

“Don’t think I’ll ever view that section the same way again,” He takes a coy sip of his whiskey.

“I really am sorry,” You apologize genuinely. “I didn’t know anyone even used that section and I-"

You start to ramble but he cuts you off gently.

“Trust me, I didn’t mind,” You watch as he downs the last of his drink and signs his tab. “You want to get out of here?”

You blush even harder. The liquor settling into your system warmly surely doesn’t help any, nor the heat behind his half-lidded eyes.

“I don’t know if I can wait that long,” You bite lightly at your lower lip.

“You do like public places, don’t you?” You snort, covering your face in embarrassment, but he won’t allow it. He removes your hands from gentle, placing gentle kisses to each.

“I do,” You agree with a light smile.

“There’s an alley out that door,” He offers lowly.

It’s all he has to say to get you up and out of your seat, following behind his muscular form.

His thumb draws light circles against your hand as he holds open the door for you to leave through first. “Shit,” He says suddenly. “You left your purse.”

You look behind you and notice that, yes, your dumbass left it on the seat next to you. Without another word, he leaves you to grab it.

You still have your phone on you and use the camera app to check over your makeup and hair as you wait in the alley for him. You hear a random noise from the rooftops, but think little of it as the hooded man sneaks up behind you. His large hands caress you from behind as he pulls you backward against his strong chest.

“Can I touch you?” He asks lowly.

Your breath sputters, wanting nothing more, “Jason.”

His hands slip even lower on your torso, applying a gentle pressure as he reaches your lower stomach. “What kind of panties are you wearing?” You can’t help but snort. He must’ve liked the red thong because you feel his dick stir to life when you mention much of the same. “Shit,” He groans when he shifts up your dress.

He runs his fingers along the fold of where your thighs meet your pussy as if to check if you’re telling him the truth.

You hear more clattering from above but can hardly focus on it when Jason turns you around to face him. It happens so fast that your mind’s still reeling from the action as he backs you against the brick wall of the club to finally slip a finger inside your thong.

“Fuck!” You buck against his calloused index finger as his body molds against yours.

His lips capture yours in an instant with an intensity that leaves you crying out with want. It’s muffled against his lips as he holds your hands above your head with only one hand while the other focuses on working through your already slick folds. He refuses to touch your clit, which leaves you mewling and struggling against his hold.

It feels so fucking good.

All of a sudden, there’s a loud ‘thump’ that forces Jason to startle slightly away from your gasping form.

“Ma’am,” A gruff voice startles the two of you. “Are you alright?”

Before you can respond, words are already out of Jason’s mouth. “Arsenal?” Jason asks, sounding entirely confused.

Your head untucks from Jason’s sweaty neck to see a random-ass dude in a costume staring at the two of you. Your mouth is wide as you take in the new form in front of you. Your eyes trickle lower on his red uniform to where it protrudes out around his crotch.

Apparently, Jason’s seen enough. His hand shifts slightly as he moves and you can’t stop the light breath it draws from you.

The costumed man visibly takes in the man’s face as if it’s familiar.

“I thought she was in trouble,” He trails off as he realizes that everything going on here is completely consensual.

They stare each other down for a few more seconds before Jason’s lulling you back in.

Instead of stopping, Jason’s fingers soon begin again and you resort to hiding your face against his neck as you allow it. He notices the man’s continued presence and smirks down at you, “Are you good with this?”

You nod, moaning loudly when he rewards you with another curl of his thick finger. You definitely aren’t used to doing this shit for free, let alone for a live audience, so you feel a bit shy. The shyness only lasts for so long before you suddenly grow bolder, throwing your head back erotically as Jason brushes against your g-spot.

Jason nips at your neck, leaving bites and bruises in his wake, but your half-lidded eyes are focused on the masked man in front of you. He’s yet to move, let alone breathe, it seems.

You can't deny that he’s ripped, nor that his muscular arms are doing things to you.

He’s hot.

“I don’t care if you touch yourself,” The words are out of your mouth before you can realize it.

It’s as if the floodgates have opened as the vigilante begins palming himself through his suit. His movements are erratic and sloppy as if he’s never touched himself before, though you suppose he’s never run into a camgirl in an alley before, not that he even knows.

You don’t even have to try to put on a show, Jason’s really that fucking good. Every moan, every writhe of your body and every shaky word you beg are all real reactions to his skillful hand.

Jason’s hand picks up speed as you draw nearer, his lips catch deliciously against your own as he coaxes your tongue lewdly with his. “There we go,” You whimper, then cry out as his fingers squelch in and out of your slick cunt. “Just like that.” With Jason and the other man’s eyes attached to your pathetic form you come, nearly crumbling to the ground as you do. Luckily, Jason’s strong arms catch you with a small laugh, “You alright?”

It’s your turn to laugh, “Fucking amazing.” You bite your lip, eyeing the obvious strain in his jeans, “Would you want me to-?”

“Fuck yeah,” He breathes out, pulling you in for a deep kiss. You tantalizingly pull your hair up, something you did in your infamous scene.

Both men watch with slackened jaws as you squat down and unzip his jeans. His clothed cock tents out from the opening of the zipper and you waste no time in sucking at the head through his boxers. Once the fabric is thoroughly soaked through, you pull him out to fully admire.

You bite playfully at your lip, staring Jason in the eyes as you spit on his bobbing cock before slowly taking his length down your throat. When you reach the hilt, you moan, feeling the vibrations of it settle across his skin, “Mm.”

“Shit,” He groans and his arms shoot out on the brick wall behind you as if to control himself from fucking into your mouth. “Done this before, babe?” He teases you, though his eyes are completely dark with lust.

“A time or two,” You jest back with an impish smile. Your glasses have completely ridden down to the tip of your nose at this point, something he notices and pushes back up with his thumb.

The action causes a loud groan from the vigilante beside Jason, “Fuck, man.” He’s eagerly fisting his cock at this point, eyes never leaving you.

“Want to taste her come?”

The moan the other man produces sounds pained, desperate, as he latches onto Jason’s calloused fingers coated with your slick.

You suck more eagerly, watching the whole interaction with fascination. You’ve never done something like this before, but you don’t think you’d mind doing it again.

“You taste so good,” The other man mumbles. You have no choice but to blush around Jason’s thick length, deepthroating him until tears spill from your eyes. “So good,” He mumbles again, completely lost in you.

You swap between teasing and deepthroating until you can tell he can’t take it any longer and attempt to finish him off with one of your signature moves.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-“ Jason caresses the back of your head as he empties out into your mouth. He pulls out and splatters the remnants of his come across your lashes.

You blink heavily, turning to the other man as an invitation, “Not sucking your dick, but you can come on my tits.”

“Fair enough,” He mumbles, completely distracted as you pull your tits out of your bra.

Your tongue pokes out to taste Jason’s come on your face while your hands squeeze at your tits like you had on stream. Poor dude doesn’t last another 20 seconds before his hot come splatters across your chest with the rest of his load drizzling down into your bra like a claim.

Definitely have to wash that when you get home.

Both men help you stand, though the vigilante takes off soon after zipping his pants.

Jason sticks around to walk you to your car, sending you off with his phone number.

When you get home, you barely have time to reflect on what the fuck had gone down in the alley when your laptop chirps oddly. You set down your purse on your kitchen island as you traverse over to your desk. Upon opening it, you find your channel pulled up and see inmyarsenal has left you a $200 tip.

You shake your head quizzically, eyebrows furrowing as you search to see if it’s been a mistake, considering you haven’t streamed since the library. You go to refund it to him only to see the note he’s left with it:

inmyarsenal: have to stop coming by your streams. tAke this as compensation- no refunds :)

A/N: I've been waiiiiting to finishing this fic since last april!!! not super edited if i'm being honest

if you'd like to send me nice things in my ask box, it would make my day :,)

[next] || ao3 || pinned

#reader x roy harper #reader x jason todd x roy harper #jason todd x reader #reader x jason todd #dc x reader #x reader #my fic: parent teacher conferences and pornstars

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wjhik · 2 months

Note

More dad!Jude please‼️‼️

Y/N’s POV:

Jude and I, along with our three energetic kids, Arlo, Lily, and Mia, were getting ready for a delightful day out. “Alright, everyone, let's get our shoes on! We’re going to have the best lunch ever,” I announced, fixing my breezy sundress in the mirror. Jude was wrangling little Mia into her shoes while Arlo and Lily giggled, racing around the house. “Don’t run in the house! You’ll break something!” I yell out to my 4 and 5 year old to get their attention. “I want ice cream!” Arlo exclaimed to his father, his excitement apparent as he tugged at Jude’s hand.

“Of course, buddy, but let’s have some real food first, yeah?” Jude chuckled, tousling Arlo's hair affectionately. I smiled at the sight, my heart swelling with warmth as I watched my husband effortlessly connect with our children. I couldn’t ask for a better man to be the father of my children.

As Jude and I were following behind our children who were leaving the house, he pulled me in by my waist. I was shocked by the sudden action and gasped, “Jude!” He looks into my eyes and then down to my lips. “You look delicious, my love.” He leaned down to peck my lips. I protested into the kiss. “Baby. Not now.” I said sternly, but secretly blushing at my husband's actions. He let go of me and let me walk out of the house, him following close behind. He curved his neck to see if our kids were watching and gave me a quick spank. “Jude!”

↭

After a satisfying lunch filled with laughter, spilled drinks, and mess, we made our way to the park. Arlo took charge, leading his sisters on a wild adventure through the playground while Jude and I watched closely, trailing behind them. We share knowing glances. “Do you ever remember us being that full of energy?” Jude whispered, his hand finding Y/N’s as they strolled along the path.

I grinned, squeezing his hand gently. “I wouldn’t trade this chaos for anything in the whole wide world” I replied, stealing a quick kiss. The kids, oblivious to their parents’ tender moment, continued their antics, racing around in a game of tag that seemed to have no end.

“Lily, mind your sister please.” Jude chimes in. Just as he said that, the youngest got pushed over in the midst of the chaos caused by the older two. Jude and I jump up to check on Mia. She’s crying loudly, however she is fine. Jude picks her up and bounces her up and down in an attempt to cheer her up.

“Now, what did I tell you guys?” I asked the kids. “Be careful.” They said simultaneously. “Yes, and did you do that?” I followed up. “No, mama.” They said once again. I crouched down to speak to them at their level. “Right. Now, I want you to go to your sister and apologize and give her the biggest hug.” I told them. They sprung up and jumped up at their dad in an attempt to reach their sister. Jude squatted on the floor and put the baby at eye level. They smothered her with hugs and kisses and she started laughing her little bum off. Mia wriggles in Jude's arms, trying to get out, so he lets her down. She waddles back out to the small grass hill where she and her siblings were playing and the fun began once again.

As the sun began to set, Jude and I scooped up our children and moved to where the spring fireworks would be taking place. We found the perfect spot to settle down and laid our fuzzy picnic blanket out. Jude and I lay down with Mia in his arms. Arlo and Lily snuggled up between us, their eyelids gradually growing heavy with the promise of dreams. Mia, nestled in my arms, gazed wide-eyed at the colorful bursts in the sky as Arlo pointed out the shapes and sizes of them.

As the final firework fizzled out, the kids now fast asleep, Jude leaned in close to me, his voice low and suggestive. “You know, watching fireworks isn’t the only thing that lights up the night.” I laughed softly, feeling a familiar spark ignite between us. “I think we can manage to find some more sparks later,” He teased, his eyes dancing with mischief as we gathered our sleeping children, Lily and Arlo in their father’s arms and me pushing Mia’s stroller and headed home, the memory of our playful day lingering like a sweet summer breeze.

#football x reader #footballer x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham drabble #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham one shot

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hardcandycigarette · 1 year

Text

Long Way Down Part One

Part Three

Here's the story of married Harry who's a dad to three small kiddos, and married for over seven years to Y/N. Marriage is always hard work, but what happens when being married to a pop star becomes too much for Y/N?

WARNING-slight references to sex, curse words

This is angst angst and more angst. There are other parts to the story, and with enough feedback, I'll post more to this story.

Word Count 4.7K

“Japan. Chile. Australia. Oh, and let's not forget Madagascar. Mada-Fucking-gascar, Harry. Who goes to Madagascar? Why the one and only Harry Styles? That's who. You realize most people never see any of those places in an entire lifetime, right? But you, you went to all of those places THIS YEAR!” Y/N stomps to their daughter's room picks her up from her crib, hoists the baby on her hip, and walks out of the nursery and down the hall.

Harry follows her to the kid’s bathroom. "Y/N, baby, it was all for work. I don't care about those places, don't even get to enjoy them."

"It doesn't matter. You still got to go. And that's in addition to your normal New York, LA, often Paris or Rome. Those places are just another day at the office for you. Do you want to know where I've been? Whole Foods. Baby Gym. Holmes Chapel. The park. School runs. Yep, that’s about it. Oh, the doctors, and kids' birthday parties; on wild days, a friend comes for a glass of wine when I can finally relax at 9 PM. So don’t do this with me, not this time.” She begins to undress the baby. She’s seething but keeps her voice down so the little one isn’t upset.

“Do you know how many days you’ve been home since the tour ended? I’ll tell you because I know exactly. 26. You could’ve paid someone to do your dirty laundry and brought home clean clothes. Even the slightest gesture to show you get how hard it is around here.”

“I’m sorry. I was so focused on just getting home I didn’t even think of having them done.” Harry turns on the bath water and tests the temperature.

“Oh, poor thing. Traveling the world in the lap of luxury must be torture.”

Harry walks to the door. "No, Y/N, no. You know what a tour is like. You've been on the road with me. You know how utterly chaotic it is. Yes, I should've thought about the laundry, but I didn’t.”

She places the baby in her bathtub seat, squats, and begins soaping her up. “Of course, you didn’t think of me.”

Harry is leaning on the doorframe of the bathroom now. “Babe, swear if you give me just a bit to decompress, I'll be happy to give you whatever ya need. We’ll take a family vacation, go someplace nice, the five of us, any place you like, you pick.” He extends his hands in her direction.

“You've been home 26 days. That's how long you've had to decompress.” She uses air quotes around decompress. You've done zero loads of laundry. I do at least four a day, trying to catch up with everything. Laundry never ends even when it’s just me and the kids. You leave a trail of mess in every room. You do nothing to help, nothing. It’s like you’ve completely checked out on the fact this is supposed to be a partnership.”

“My job isn’t just dancing around in sparkly trousers for an hour or two. I’m fucking exhausted too. You’re not playin’ fair, Y/N.”

"Thing is, I'm not playing at all, Harry.”

“A vacation with the five of us is a vacation to you, Harry, not to me. I love you guys, I really do, but I need a break. I needed this just for me. I wasn't asking for much, Harry. Five days for myself, time to decompress, as you call it. I wanted to be with my friends and sisters, but you know what, never mind. Go. Just go. We’ll talk about it when I’ve put her to bed.”

“I’ll put her to bed.” He closes the door behind him when he steps out.

Harry hears her singing Adore You. The song always makes the baby smile. Y/N can’t be completely furious if she’s still singing his songs. Harry couldn’t be more wrong.

When Y/N finishes with the bath, she wraps her daughter in her little duck towel with a hood and exits the bathroom. Their son’s door is cracked down the hall, and she hears Harry talking with him. She stands just outside the entrance to eavesdrop.

“That sounds like a good time, buddy. I’m glad you had fun with your friend. Did you make sure to hug him and say thank you before you left his house? Did you thank his family for having you over?”

“Yes.” He sounds so tiny for someone who wrecked Y/N’s nerves with his big voice the entire time Harry was gone.

“So, let’s get snug as a bug in a rug.” Harry wraps the blanket over their son and kisses his forehead. "Have a good sleep, and we'll have some fun in the morning, yeah?”

“Love you, Dad.”

Harry walks across the room and turns off the light. “Love you even more, bud. See you in the morning.” He closes the door when he leaves the room.

“Thank you.”

“He’s m’ son too, Y/N.” Harry walks toward the couple’s room, head hanging down; he drags his finger along the wall.

He doesn’t stick around to help put Lola down, be it because he forgot he said he would put her to bed or he's just upset.

Y/N walks to Lola’s nursery, dries and lotions her, dresses her for bed, and places her in the crib, hoping she will go down without a fight. "Love you, punkin’. Good night.” She kisses her and stands near the bed. She waits to see if she cries. When she only babbles, y/n turns on the baby monitor and nightlight, then crosses the room, turning off the light as she exits, but only closes the door partially.

Y/N heads toward the bedroom, dreading how the rest of the evening will go. Harry is sitting on the bed reading a book about Japanese art, his readers slide down his nose as he pretends to be intensely focused, but she knows him and knows he’s not focused.

She walks to the dresser, opens a drawer, and gets some pjs. She’s too pissed off to bother with a shower but goes to the ensuite to undress. “Don’t have to pretend you’re reading Harry.” She changes her clothes and tosses the dirty clothes in the hamper, does her skincare, and brushes her teeth. She picks up a pair of Harry’s gross, beat-up sneakers as she enters the bedroom. "These are nice," she says, tossing them across the room.

“Cut the crap, Y/N. I know what you're doing. You're not getting a fight out of me, so toss all the shoes you want. I'm not going to argue with you. The passive-aggressive stuff stopped working a long time ago."

She exhales and sits on the bed. "Not being passive, Harry, just aggressive. I'm tired. I'm so tired." She falls back on the bed.

He crawls over to her and plants a kiss on her lips. “Mmm, minty.” He smiles.

“Yep.” She closes her eyes.

He kisses her again. “Come over here; Let’s have a snuggle and a good night’s sleep.”

“I can’t tonight. I just can’t.” She sighs as she climbs to the pillows, placing her head down on the fluffiest one-her favorite one.

“Can’t what?”

“Have sex.”

“Wasn’t trying to.”

She rolls her eyes. "Okay. I don't know your pattern exactly; whenever you want to get frisky. Just met you, have no idea what you're like when you want to pretend an argument didn't happen, makeup, move past it, and get what you want.”

Harry’s eyes narrow. He swallows the lump in his throat and shakes his head in disbelief. “Wow. I can’t believe you just said that. That’s one of the worst things you’ve ever said to me. To imply I manipulate you for sex.” Harry stands, grabs his pillow, and walks to the door. “I’ll be in the guestroom.”

The following day she slowly opens her eyes and reaches over to Harry, but he’s not there. She thought that after he cooled off, he'd return to bed. She thought he’d slip under the covers once he knew it was safe and she was asleep. But he didn't come back to bed. She sits up and looks around the room. Gross sneakers are still across the room, three of Harry's hoodies over the recliner, one of Lola’s toys, and an empty water bottle next to Harry’s wallet -the room is a disaster. She sighs, rubs her face, and flops back down. The house is quiet, almost too quiet. Why is it so quiet? In a panic, she sits up, throws on her robe, and walks to the door. She flings it open and rushes down the hall. When she gets to Lola's room, she pushes open the door; the light is off, and Harry, bare-chested, sits in the recliner, rocking her. "Is she sick? What time is it? Where is everyone?"

"No, she's not sick, Y/N, she's m’ daughter, and she needed a cuddle with her daddy."

"Oh. Look about last night…."

"Not right now, Y/N. Let me enjoy this. Archer and Poppy are in the playroom watching a film. They’ve had their breakfast.”

She nods and leaves the room. She can’t hold back her tears as she walks to the kitchen. But her tears abruptly halt when she enters the filthy kitchen. Harry obviously made breakfast for everyone. Pancakes and bacon are covered with a cloth and a note with Mumma written in crayon to let her know it is hers. But the tenderness she feels doesn’t last long as she scans the kitchen. The dirty plates, cups, pots, and pans litter the kitchen and breakfast nook. The stove is splattered with grease and batter, and God knows what else. She starts to gather the dishes to clean them and load the dishwasher. Once everything is in the sink, she sits at the table in the breakfast nook, picking at the plate of food left for her. She isn’t hungry. Lately, she never is.

"Not as good as yours, but not half bad.” Harry breaks the silence as he stands next to the fridge arms folded over his muscular chest.

“Where is-“

“Living room in her pack-n-play.”

“Okay.” She picks up a slice of bacon and bites into it. She tosses it back on the plate.

She stands, walks to the sink, and begins cleaning off the excess food.

“I was going to do that as soon as I got done with the baby. I didn't have time to juggle it all."

“Really? Didn’t have time? Couldn’t juggle it all? That’s rich.” She shakes her head and chuckles as she places the cutlery into the designated basket in the dishwasher.

He shakes his head, looking at the ground. He cocks his mouth to the side and clicks his tongue. "Touche." He walks over and begins placing the dishes in the dishwasher.

She moves, allowing him the glamorous opportunity of a lifetime. “Wonder when the last time you did this was. Long before X-Factor, I’m sure.”

“Don’t.” Harry scrapes off a dish.

“But why not? You get to have all the fun. You get to do all the talking. You get to see all the things. Meet all the people. You get it all.” She leans against the counter, tapping her fingers.

“Y/N, I’m warning you-don’t.”

Her eyes widen, and she stands with a smirk on her face. This man bought all the audacity. “Warning me? Warning me? What are you going to do if I don't stop? Nothing.”

To get her attention, he throws a glass, aiming it at the sink, but not realizing the force behind it, it crashes into the stainless steel and shatters.

They both jump back, then freeze.

He reaches toward Y/N. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to."

“Get out. I mean it, Harry. And I don’t mean the kitchen. You leave this house. You leave this house now, and don’t come back.” Her words are low and deliberate as she stares at the floor.

“That was out of order what just happened. I'm sorry; you know I'd never lay a hand on you or do anything in the world to scare you. Don't know what came over me."

“I said get out.”

“Excuse me? Don’t come back to my own frickin' house? You've got to be kidding. I'm doing no such thing, Y/N. Will I go downstairs and stay in the entertainment room or sleep in the guest room? Sure. Will I take the kids out for the day? Sure. But leave? No. We’ve never spent one day apart in anger, and we aren’t starting now, so get that idea out of your little head.” He points to his temple, gritting his teeth.

“Fine, then I will.” She pushes him out of the way when she passes him to leave the kitchen.

Harry follows her. “You’ll what, Y/N?” He grabs her arm, attempting to stop her.

“Get your damn hand off of me, you big bully.” She jerks away, storming toward the bedroom.

Harry goes to the living room to get Lola. He hears their bedroom door slam. Poor girl is probably scared. She’s never heard people shout before, especially her mama or daddy. And now her mama says she’s leaving? The words don’t even sound right when Harry says them to himself. Harry approaches the bedroom, tapping on the door. “Y/N, the baby, it’s time for her feeding.”

She marches toward him and takes the baby. “Of course it is; one more thing your pathetic ass can't do around here. Now, get out." She pushes against the door.

Harry walks out and closes the door.

***

Downstairs, Harry talks to Poppy and Archie, making sure that if they heard the yelling, they aren't scared. "Arch, you okay, bud?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t look up just keeps playing with the Barbie and Ken dolls.

“Pop, you doing okay?"

“Yes, daddy. Are you?” She walks over and hugs his legs.

“Yes, baby, Daddy is fine. Are you guys in the mood for a trip to the zoo? Maybe some pizza and ice cream after?

“Yeah.” Poppy detaches herself from her daddy and jumps up and down.

“Can we go now?” Archer says, dropping the dolls and standing up.

"We can. Let's go get dressed, yeah?" Harry walks toward the stairs to the home's main floor.

The kids follow him up.

“Are mumma and the baby coming?” Poppy asks.

"Not sure, baby girl.”

Archer interjects. “If they’re gonna yell, I hope not."

Harry turns around. "There won't be any yelling, buddy, but that's not nice what you just said. We never say things like that, especially about your mummy or baby sister. We always want them included in whatever we do, always. Don’t ever say anything like that ever again.”

Archer is crying now. "Sorry, Daddy, I didn't mean it."

At the top landing of the stairs, Harry stops and kneels to Archer putting his arms around him. "Come here. Let's hug Daddy, yeah?"

Archer slowly puts his arms around Harry’s neck. “Didn’t mean it, Dad.”

"I know, buddy, we're all having a bad day, but what is the one, very most important rule in this house."

“Treat people with kindness.” Archer releases himself from the embrace.

"That's right, treat one another with kindness and love and goodness."

Archer sniffles. “I will.”

“All right, to our rooms, we go.” Harry leads the kids into the hall.

Harry feels like his heart just broke in two. The one thing they’d both agreed on before having kids is they would raise them in a peaceful home. They both came from divorced parents and knew what it was like when the family was immensely unhappy.

Harry ushers the kids to their rooms once back in the central portion of the house. "Okay, lollipop, do you need daddy's help getting dressed? Or do you want to try by yourself today?"

“I can do it, Daddy,” Poppy says. She pushes her blonde curls off her face.

"Good girl. Now, if you need me, call me, okay? And if you want something hanging up, remember no climbing; call for me, and I'll get it.” Harry pats her on the back.

“Okay.” Poppy skips to her room.

“Arch, do you need help?" Harry asks, following Archer as he walks to the room next to Poppy's.

“No, I got it.”

"Okay, guys, I'm going to help mummy with Lola. I'll be just down the hall."

Harry takes his time to get to the end of the hall. He taps on the door before entering. “Love?” He pokes his head in the door.

“Yeah.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yes.” She snuggles the baby closer as she nurses her.

“Gonna take the big kids to the zoo. Can I take Lola?”

"She's your baby too, Harry. Please don't ask me a question like that. Of course, you can take her.”

“All right, by the time I'm dressed, she should be finished, and I'll get her ready." Harry walks to the bathroom.

“Pretty sure I’m capable of getting my child dressed,” she mumbles.

Harry snaps around. "What the actual fuck is wrong with you, Y/N?" He's angry, but he keeps his voice down. "First, I do nothing, and then you pop off like that when I try to do something." Harry turns to walk back to the ensuite.

"Daddy's a grumpy pants, isn't he, baby girl? It's okay; you've got a mummy. She’ll take care of you, just like she always has.”

Harry stomps out of the bathroom, mouth full of toothpaste. “No, Y/N. No. You aren’t going to do that shit," he says, toothpaste foaming from his mouth as he flings the toothbrush and points it toward her.

She sighs. “Okay, Harry, whatever."

“Whatever? Whatever?” I’m done with this Y/N. Do what you will, hate me if you want, but don’t bad mouth me to our kids.” He walks again to the bathroom sink, and turns on the water, rinses his mouth out, dries it off.

“It’s not exactly like she understands what I’m saying.”

"Not exactly the point, Y/N.” He returns to the bedroom, then walks to the recliner, grabs a hoodie, and puts it on as he approaches the bed. "These babies are my entire life, Y/N. You know that, so think what you will of me as a husband, lover, and partner, but don’t you ever talk about me like that to our children.”

She’s burping the baby now, patting her on the back. “The kids are your entire life? I get it. Performing is your first love. No room for me.” She pulls her bottom lip in with her teeth and stares at nothing, looking at anything but Harry. Her eyes water, holding onto her tears.

Harry walks to her side of the bed. “You know that’s not what I meant, baby.” He sits on the bed next to her, his voice calmer now.

“No, I get it, Harry. Trust me, I do. I wouldn't blame you if you stopped loving and wanting me. Furthermore, why would you want any of this? I mean, look at this whole thing, and then there’s me. I’m a mess.”

“I’m looking at you. I see you. What are you talking about? And I love this mess, and I love you.” He places his hand on her knee. He pushes his eyebrows together and searches her face.

“It’s over, Harry.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “You’re tired and frustrated, but that’s life. It’s not over.”

"It wasn't a question." She hands Lola to him and stands. She tugs at the bottom of her t-shirt, the shirt she borrowed from him when they were dating and never gave it back. It's faded and stretched out, a picture of One Direction but with the words Spice Girls written on it.

Harry says nothing and watches her. She walks to the closet, grumbles, and grunts, knocking about with a few curse words sprinkled in. Once she finds what she's looking for, she returns to the bedroom, drops a suitcase on the bed, and then unzips it.

"Y/N, baby, what are you doing?"

"I told you I'm leaving. You didn't think taking the kids to the zoo would stop that did you?"

“This is crazy. I’m gonna put Lola in her crib. I’ll be back.” Harry stands, walks across the room, and exits.

A few moments later, he returns. She removes clothes from the dresser. Harry approaches her and places his hand on her elbow. "Baby, let's talk about this. You can leave me, in theory, until we can figure something out, but you can't just walk out on the kids."

She shrugs him off her. “Don’t touch me. There is nothing to figure out, not between us. As for the kids, of course, I'm not leaving them forever, don't be so dramatic, but I am leaving for now."

She goes to the bathroom. Harry can hear her gathering items from the vanity. He sits on the bed, dropping his head in his hands, then lifts his head resting his fingers tips under his chin. He stares at two crayons on the floor under the dresser. He makes that his sole focus, unable to look at her when Y/N returns and tosses the cosmetics bag into the suitcase. She huffs and sighs.

“I might not help as much as I should. I get it, but this, this is one time I’m not lifting a finger to help you. So you can cut the sound effects.”

There’s a soft knock at the door before the handle turns, and small hands push the door open. “Daddy, are we going to the zoo?”

Tears have started to roll down Harry’s cheeks. He wipes his face and sniffs before Poppy comes in. “Yes, baby girl, but give Daddy a minute. Go play nice in your room. I’ll come to get you when it’s time. And Poppy, please wait to be invited in before opening the door. You know the rules.”

“Okay.” Satisfied, she pulls the door closed.

"You see that, Y/N. Our kids need us. Our kids know when something's wrong. They heard our shouting earlier. We can't do this around them." He stands and walks over to her. "Listen, let me call Mitch and Sarah, and see if they can take them for the night, yeah? Or Jeff and Glenne might not mind, then we'll get dressed, go have a nice dinner, come home, and relax, just the two of us.”

“Why so you can get laid, Harry?”

"Y/N, where is all of this coming from? That's the second time you've remarked that I’m somehow this sex-crazed maniac that has to jump through hoops to trick his wife into having sex with him, yet you also say there is no way I could still want you.”

She shoves sneakers into the suitcase. “Oh, believe me, I know you can find someone to have sex with, no doubt about that." She shakes her head and smirks. "Never had any problem getting that, did you?"

“What is wrong with you? Do you think I’ve been with someone else? Is that what’s got you like this?”

She continues throwing things in the suitcase, then zips it up. She returns to the closet, retrieves another bag, unzips it, kicks it along the floor, and continues packing. “I told you. I can’t do it anymore. I’m tired. I’m forgetful because I’m overwhelmed. Important things aren’t given their proper attention. I mess up more often than I will admit. This isn’t good.”

“If this is about going out of town on that girls’ trip, then go.” He extends his foot and closes the top of the luggage. “Have fun. Go, but don’t ruin our family just because you weren’t getting your way.”

“Fuck you, Harry. Because I wasn’t getting my way? It’s not that. It’s that it’s always about you. Always. It’s when are you leaving, when are you coming back, coming in late from the studio, FaceTiming at 3 AM just so I can see you and hear your voice, important events, meetings, everything is about you, and I'm sick of it. You know you're the one that wanted a third baby, or hell, a second baby, for that matter. I was happy when it was just the three of us, all traveling together, but you wanted a larger family, and as usual, I wanted to give you what you wanted.”

He stands next to her, reaches over and takes her face in his hands, and turns her toward him. He sees her face, but she’s a stranger. He hadn’t noticed the new lines between her eyebrows, the dark circles under her eyes, or the sallow shade of her skin. “Tell me you don't regret Poppy and Lola. Please tell me you don't regret those two perfect little girls. Because I love you, Y/N, but if you tell me you regret them, I can't forgive you. Ever.”

She pulls away. "I do regret the timing. I should've insisted you take a multi-year hiatus before expanding our family because I made my life worse to make your life better."

He drops his hands from her and walks across the room to the window, which overlooks the expansive garden below. “Worse? How could anything about those babies make your life worse? Take it back before I say something that can’t be unsaid.” You knew what you were signing up for, Y/N. You knew the life I live and how hard it would be, but you said ‘I do’, you agreed this was the life we would live,” he says.

“You don’t see that even then, it was about you. It was what I agreed to, but what about me? What did you agree to do for me? What sacrifices were you willing to make? I gave up my career, so I could give you a home, take care of the kids, and always be available to support you in anything you needed me to support you in, travel with you." Sitting on the bed, she shoves her legs into her denim flares and stands. She walks over to the dresser and retrieves a black sports bra.

Harry turns to her. "Okay, what do you need? What do you need my support with? Besides the house, the kids? What is it that you’re missing?

She removes her t-shirt and puts on the bra. "Everything."

“You've got to give me specifics, love. Have to help me here, at least with this. I can't read minds, baby. Believe me, if I could, this wouldn't be happening." He walks to her.

She pulls on a lightweight black sweater. "I need you to know me, Harry.” She goes back to the luggage, bends down, and zips closed the second bag. “I needed you to pay attention, to see that I’m drowning here.”

"Okay. We'll have the maid come more days during the week, and we'll get a sitter, nanny, or whatever will make life easier for you. After the three nights in Manchester, I'll devote my time to you. But I have a contract I have to do these nights in Manchester, besides it’s kind of home. We can stay at Mum’s. All of us go together.”

“It’s not just about the housework or the kids. And I don’t want to follow you to Manchester. I need you. I need a husband, a partner, not a sugar daddy who keeps knocking me up.”

“Oh, get off it. Lola's over a year old, and never do I push you for sex, not ever.”

“Whatever.” She pulls the two suitcases upright, rolls them to the door, exits, walks down the hall, and passes the three bedrooms along the corridor. She can't stop, or she'll never go; if she stays, she'll make things worse. She knows she's on the brink of breaking completely.

Harry is behind her.

They make it to the front door, and she slides her feet into her loafers. As she opens the door, she turns to him. "Everything you need to know about your kids is in a folder on my desk in the office. There’s frozen milk in the fridge.”

He reaches out, but she shakes her head. “Don’t.” She snatches her purse from the hook by the front door.

"Y/N, please, baby."

"Goodbye, Harry." With that, she steps out, dragging the luggage behind her. She doesn't look back.

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