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seattlesellie · 3 months ago

Text

ೀ spoiled. ( part one )

📞🕯️🎀 ₊˚⊹♡ “ baby , can you call me back ? i miss you … it’s so lonely in my mansion … “ 🧸🪽🍬

pairing: ellie williams x rich fem!reader

synopsis: the mansion you live in is getting too cold , the silence is way too silent , and not even reruns of sex & the city can help … long story short , you’re feeling lonely . wonder if you can think of someone in your contacts that can help and warm you up , a certain classmate perhaps ?

warnings: girly reader , kind of desperate loser ellie , bratty spoiled rich reader so don't read if that annoys you , allusion to smut , actual smut will be in the second chapter , this is dirty so mdni as usual !

an: i wrote this such a long time ago and it wasn't supposed to be two parts but well now it is !! i will start writing the second part if u guys want to so don't be shy in my inbox. not proofread unfortunately ♡

A perfectly manicured hand rests on the fluffy white and silky smooth duvet. the Egyptian cotton, to be exact, is nothing but lavish, a sanctuary of indulgence in the realm of your own private luxury. Then, you tap your nails atop it, and the fabric crinkles. You gently sigh, but it's more so a grumble, and reach over for the ‘Dunkin’ cup standing on your wooden bedside table. It perfectly matches every single one of the furniture in your extravaganza of a walk in closet, and the bed-frame as well. You take a slow, indulgent sip out of the icy cold drink, take an ice cube out with a straw, and gently suckle on it. You place the drink back on the table, shifting your gaze back over to the flat screen television.

Carrie forgave Mr. Big again, and now she’s seen frantically pacing around the streets of New York City in her shiny Manolo Blahniks. You arch your brows, humming in high pitched amusement. you have the exact same pair!

Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda always seem to bring you a sense of comfort. Usually, your bed brings you a sense of comfort as well, and so does an icy drink with specifically eight cubes of ice. Your room smells like French vanilla, a tinge of cinnamon, and the sweetest pie you’ve never learned how to bake. Most of the time, you’d bask in the scent and feel nice, and cosy, and your nose would scrunch and your nostrils would flare out, then you’d open your favorite food delivery app and order a nice ol’ package of nine chocolate chip cookies. Then, you’d pop open a bottle of champagne and indulge yourself in the sweets deliciousness.

But your appetite is less existent than snow in the middle of August.

You’re also freezing cold, fuzzy socks and all — goosebumps rising on your skin and feeling sharp like Japanese knives.

Your best friend of a white home cat, Toodle, elegantly extends his supple frame, his lithe form gracefully ascending to nestle within the cradle of your neck. His bell gently dingles, he yawns and mellifluously meows. Right now, it sounds more like an old mans groan.

“I know, Toots… m’bored too. And cold, Jesus…” you mutter towards Toodles, who, in his usual aloof manner, closes his eyes and surrenders to the soothing hum of his purring. You puff some air out of your mouth, brain wheels turning as to find out what’s the cause of this blue mood. The air conditioning is completely turned off, you’re sure of it, and the fireplace crackles with warmth. Your entire moisturized body is covered up by a ridiculously expensive thick blanket, and it’s not the short VS nightie that makes you feel freezing, you’re convinced of that. For some reason, the frosty sensation persists. You smack your lip-glossed lips before bumping your head against your mountain of pillows, emitting a low grunt of exasperation.

You don’t know the reason for your boredom, or for this bum mood, because albeit you’ve seen this episode about a gazillion times, it never fails to entertain the shit out of your brain.

Maybe it’s due to the fact that you’re entirely alone (except for Toddles, of course, can't forget him) in a 10,000 square feet mansion. or perhaps it’s because the only lit room inside the mansion is your own.

But then you roll your eyes, because your parents are always away (at St. Tropez this time), so feeling alone isn’t a new and strange concept.

Alas, being alone isn’t the same as being lonely.

Your face twists at the depressing thought, ew. You’re not lonely, just… bored, and unamused, and the icy drink isn’t sweet enough and Carrie’s getting on your last nerve, and the 1,000 dollar blanket is starting to itch the hell out of your hyper-sensitive skin.

Which is why you get up from the bed in a moment of eureka, landing your feet against the fuzzy carpet and slide them into your Ugg’s. “Uh huh!” you chirp, you finally got it.

You’re experiencing an old friend of a feeling called (drumroll…) — anxiety, over your unfinished chem project! It must have masked itself in the form of frigidness and discomfort and loneliness.

But the project isn’t even due till next week, and you rarely get stressed over college stuff unless they’re due the next day and you’re sitting, staring down at your laptop screen, trying to communicate with it through telepathy or something of that sort.

Somaybeit’snotanxiety and maybeyou’rejustloney.

You shake away that uneasy and irritating thought, and sit your pretty butt down on the rolling chair. You click your shiny glittery pen (that always sheds some glitter onto your hand) and open up the thick as brick textbook.

You read the first question out loud.

The correct formula for aluminum nitrate is…

Valentino’s Lòco Toile Iconographe shoulder bag in hot pink?

Nope.

You shake your head, you have got to focus. You place your chin atop your palm and click the pen once more.

Al(NO2)3? or maybe it’s Al(NO3)3…

or maybe you’re so far off you need to close the book shut and throw it out of the window. You’ve always sucked at chemistry.

Which is why you were assigned to be tutored by that auburn haired, green eyed, slightly sullen, tatted up girl who went by "Ellie" — or "El", but you didn't know her like that.

Ellie, is the one who stuttered out your name as she realized you weren’t paying attention to her tutoring, as you had your gaze fixated on the black ink etched on her forearm, a half-covered flannel and a canvas of delicate veins. A bug, adorned with intricate botanical details, unfurled its wings across her skin.

“S’uh… A moth, with ferns around it n’stuff. It’s kind of faded now though”

Her voice was raspy and husky, and she stuttered out your name. Usually, you’d hate it when people got nervous around you. It made you feel odd, ostracized, and you always insisted — you were so damn sweet, there’s nothing to be nervous about. You wore sweet perfume, sweet as goddamn cherries and cupcakes, and your voice was soft and you always smiled brightly, and so what if your purse cost more than a college tuition?

But her nerves didn’t annoy you. In fact, you found them charming, and you found her sweet. You found that all of her “Uhhh” ‘s, and her “Mhhm” ‘s, all of her stammering and her lack of ability to keep eye contact with you to be… infatuating.

Then there was that rich voice, and those eyes, that smile, those hands, those damn toned arms, those biceps and the haircut, the way two short strands of hair always framed her face perfectly and her scent — that you could tell was just a cheap cologne, but mixed with her unique fragrance, proved nothing short of intoxicating.

It was also the fact that she seemed to damn know everything — and that she was always ahead of you, and that her face always bore that coy little smirk when you got a question wrong (which you seemed to get more often than not), and that she would grab your Swarovski pen out of your hand and scribble down the answer for you, just to explain it in detail later.

The way she licked over her bottom lip and bit as wrote down.

With her long fingers and all.

When she spoke, her breath smelled of mint and the faintest tinge of weed, which made you think of how lovely it must be to be able to transform into a damn joint just so she could place you in her mouth and suck —

now you’re sticky, and god now you really are distracted, and not by a cute purse or the sound of rain pouring down on your window. Toodles stretches his tiny limbs and you hear his bell faintly dingle again. He climbs down from your princess bed and jumps up to sit at your lap. You caress down his white fur and he purrs.

You wonder if Ellie likes cats.

You know she likes pussy.

You have got to get a grip.

You massage your temples, attempting to focus on the written down questions again, but the words and the numbers seem to mix into a cacophony of odd symbols and letters, and you’re still so goddamn cold.

Albeit your eyelids droop down slowly, eyes spazzing out of focus, the assignment must be done today.

“Just, finish the damn work and go to sleep. Yup.” You mumble to yourself, a habit you picked up as a result of being alone for most of your childhood, and having to opt for the help of imaginary friends to keep you comfort. Alas, you’re older now and only have yourself to talk to.

You try and follow your command.

The problem is, you don’t know jack shit.

You wish Ellie was here, with her hair sticking to her forehead and your pen in her hand and her old chuck’s glued to her feet, as she sits down on the spare chair aside you with her jaw resting on her knees.

You wish you could hear her faint chuckle as you get another question wrong.

As a tutor, of course.

Not even as a friend, because she’s not.

Definitely not as a lover, obviously, because that would truly be so far fetched from reality — although… right now, you can’t help but think of the way her eyes fall down to your chest as a crimson blush creeps up her cheeks.

And you keep thinking about the time you purposely let your bra strap cascade down your shoulder, just because you wondered how she’d react — Which was with averting her gaze to the side and clearing her throat. Now you think of the time you wore an extra short mini skirt, not that different from the rest of them although a bit tinier, and how you kept rubbing your thighs together just to see whether she’d notice or not, which she did…

You groan and slap your palm against your forehead.

Then, you stare at another question and then at your phone. Toodles chimes in with a high-pitched meow.

“Oh my gosh Toots, so true! I should text her the questions, duh”

You’re not delusional at all, by the way.

So you send her your address.

In the meantime, you make sure your studying environment and your room are as tidy as possible. You grab your sparkly pink pen and place it near the textbook, and you grab a matte black pen for Ellie as well, a thoughtful gesture.

You also apply some strawberry scented moisturizer on your body, and spray your sickly sweet perfume on your pule points.

You slip your feet out of your slippers, and you wear your favorite heels. However, you keep your little nightie on. You’re supposed to feel comfortable, this is your house after all, and the heels — are just a courtesy, you are expecting company, and opening the front door with house slippers is entirely rude, and the silky robe… It’s long enough and proper. Ish.

You stare at your reflection down the mirror, and for some reason, you feel utterly nervous. You’re all dolled up for a person who isn’t a stranger, but who also isn’t a friend. When you coat your lips with some minty gloss, Toodles stretches his tail upwards and meows.

“Psh. Do not judge me, Toots. This is normal, I do this all the time”

Which again is a total and complete white lie, because if it was a regular friend coming over, you wouldn’t have even bothered to fix up your makeup, and you’d barely even get up from the comfort of your own bed.

As a matter of fact, not many people come by your house at all. You have your fair share of friends, but you’d much rather hang out by the mall or at one of their mansions, yours always feels just, utterly suffocating — as giant and spacey as it might be. And sure, you’ve had hook ups before, but you always went rigid when they tried to slip past your panties, and you were always… dry, as an autumn leaf.

Ellie makes you feel anything but dry.

Physically — you shake your head and try getting rid of the thought by giving yourself some good old whiplash.

You find yourself pacing around your room, until you manage to cascade downstairs as soon as you hear the bell ring. With each step you take, your heel taps the lavish ceramic pavement.

“Stay”, you gesture towards your fluffy feline companion, who responds with a squinting of his eyes. “Don’t freak out our company”

You look at Ellie’s face from the intercom’s shiny screen. You look at it so hard you nearly forget to press on the button that’s purpose is to let your tutor-guest in. A couple of strands of her auburn bangs stick to her forehead. Ellie scratches her eyes with the back of her hands and she straightens up her spine. As she waits for the gate to open, she puffs some air from her cheeks. She attempts to fix her eyebrows with the tips of her fingers, and seems to be murmuring something underneath her breath.

You’re not the best at lip reading, but your gut tells you she just whispered a “Hi”, and added your name, then — “Hey” adding your name once more.

It’s absolutely impossible for her to not be aware of how stupidly and irritatingly cute she is.

You press on the button and clear your throat. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t practice your greeting in front of a mirror as well. Your robe cascades down your shoulder, you fixate on it and contemplate pulling up the fabric.

Toodles meows once more.

Yup. You should keep it down.

It takes Ellie a good five minutes to walk the full distance from the front gate to your huge white door.

Then she knocks three times on the wood, and you squeak like a mouse although you really were fully prepared.

Your tutor wears a blue flannel with a white undershirt tucked beneath. The first button is opened, revealing a tiny piece of her pale skin. Below, her legs are covered with tight skinny jeans with a tear on the knee (you’re not sure if she fell or if it’s done purposely so), and to your surprise — no Chuck’s, but Doc Martens.

Noted. She has more than one pair of shoes.

When you greet Ellie with a cheerful — yet ever so relieved and breathy “Hi”, you kiss her on the cheek like you do all of your friends, and you can smell that cheap cologne again.

Amber, citrus, musk, lavender.

There’s a hint of actual Ellie in the mix as well — smoke, herbs, sweat… did she run here?

When you hug Ellie you focus on her scent.

When you hug Ellie she focuses on absofuckinglutely nothing — Her body goes rigid and stiff and she doesn’t hug you back until two way too long seconds pass, and she finally manages to place her hand on your waist.

But she doesn’t hug or squeeze, she rests it there.

Then she coughs.

“Hey”

You take a step back and you can tell she’s a bit flushed, or flustered — but you take it as her just running. You lean your hand against one of the thick pillars. Her orbs travel frantically from your eyes down to your… legs, that are completely bare and smooth and shiny, then they run down to your feet, which are covered with heels…

You think she might say something about it, about you, how ridiculous you look, so you’re washed up with self consciousness and shyness which is something you rarely get to feel, unless you’re with that damn girl for some reason.

Then her eyes hyper-focus on… the ceiling?

You grant Ellie a half smile and you really yearn to break the silence — but she’s ahead of you. Again.

“It’s… you have a really high ceiling” she says, then immediately glues her eyes on to the floor.

“Uh, shiny floor…” she chuckles so freaking awkwardly, grazing the bottom of her left legs doc’s on the floor so it squeaks. Immediately, Ellie apologizes.

“Shit, sorry, my shoes fuckin’ muddy. I uh, ran here”

You gingerly smile and furrow your brows. You theory has been proven correct. “You ran?”

“Walked, like, not ran ran”

There’s the tiniest droplet of sweat on Ellie’s forehead, which she wipe’s swiftly and clumsily with the back of her hand when she notices your eyes scan it. Oh, she ran ran alright. You do feel a little bad, picturing Ellie’s shoes hitting below her ass as she runs through the streets of your city, with a packed and awfully heavy mauve backpack — smacking against her back with every step she takes. You almost pout, you’re still leaning against the pillar and you smack your lips together — gloss and all, out of habit.

“Could’a given you a ride, y’know” you light sweetly. Ellie’s scarred eyebrow arches up in response. “You have a license?”

You so want to shove her shoulder playfully, but you’re convinced it’ll make her go absolutely rigid again. Physical contact bricks her up — noted.

“Why is that such a surprise?” you flash her a teasing smile. She smiles back at you.

“S’just, thought you’d have a personal driver. Can’t really imagine you driving that monster of a Rover back there —“

You nod in complete amusement. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Ellie teases, followed by a throaty chuckle. “Plus, took you more of a passenger princess type of girl”

And that sentence shouldn’t make you stutter the way you do next. It shouldn’t, but it does. You back away slowly and Ellie follows your footsteps.

“T-that’s, awfully presumptuous” you chirp. Her boots stomp on the floor and your heels click clack. “Plus, I don’t drive that Rover. My car’s in the garage with the rest of ‘em” you say matter-of-factly.

Ellie scoffs impishly behind you. You walk up the stairs and she follows suit. She’s confident when she teases, you think, which is a tad different than her usual awkward self, but if only you knew she nearly slipped down one of the steps as she noticed the tiniest, delicious, most precious piece of your flesh that was just exposed behind you as a result of your incredibly short nightie.

“Psh, so presumptuous”

As you walk towards your room, Ellie walks behind you although she has more than enough space to walk besides you. You get the feeling that she's nervous, even after her teasing and all, and you don't have to wonder why too much. Your house is huge, intimidating, filled with strange sculptures and paintings by obscure artists regular people have never even heard of. You don't have just one living room, you have three, and in each and every one of them stands a different technology piece of some sort. Also, your heels cost more than her outfit, could be more worth than the entirety of her damn closet, and most importantly — you're walking with a pink robe and some heels on.

When you reach your room, Ellie awkwardly smiles and straightens her muscular back. Then, she holds on to the straps of her backpack.

"First of all" you sigh, and now it's your turn to feel coy. "Thank you for coming over so late. I know it's like, absolutely ridiculous, and you know, you don't get paid for this so...", you flash Ellie an endearing smile, the apples of your cheeks rising sweetly as a humble thank you. "And, second of all... jus'... brace yourself?"

Ellie's brows arch up, but before she has time to ask — oh.

You both step into your lit room. Toodles follows by closely, entering the room as well, whilst rubbing his furry back against Ellie's calves.

"Yup..."

Ellie's fingers instinctively clasp onto the straps of her backpack once more, her eyes widening ever so slightly, but she fights to seem as unsurprised as she can — she fails miserably, because she gasps a little.

Your room is nothing but a... cotton candy dream world. A wall that's painted in pretty dusty pink, a princess bed that's nothing but a regal centerpiece. Above the bed, a canopy of gossamer silk drapes from a custom-crafted wrought iron frame, And the final sophisticated touch, a grand crystal chandelier, suspended from the ceiling. There are also clothes everywhere, empty water bottles, used sheet masks, a stack of books — some half-read, others forgotten, teetered precariously on a random corner. Ellie sticks out like a sore thumb. She stands out like a neon sign in a library, a skateboard at a black-tie gala.

You like it.

She clears her throat, stepping further into your room. "I take it black is your favorite color?" she titters sarcastically.

You giggle.

"Mhm, also I'm clearly very organized, and I hate clothes" you murmur and point out the pile of dresses haphazardly bunched in the corner of your room.

She should feel out of place. She should probably laugh, even sneak a pic — tell all her "cool" friends about how mindblowingly ridiculous the prissy rich girls room is. Instead, she thinks about how cute you must look cuddled up in a bed this big, how adorable it'd be to see your bed-head poking through the sheets at 8am, how sweet it must be to watch you skip around your room, trying on your shitload of clothes, throwing them in the air and huffing like a medieval brat of a princess. She wants to place a fucking tiara on your head. She sees your sticker collection from the corner of her eye, your vinyls, your candles, your crystals and Toodles' sofa.

And she likes it.

You take a deep breath. You shouldn't even care if she likes it or not, you shouldn't be bothered by it at all — you rarely are, but something inside of you yearns for... something.

"It suits you" she murmurs.

And that's certainly good enough, because it does.

You gesture Ellie to sit on the rolling chair next to yours, and her eyes still roam over the space of your room. “My room looks exactly the same, by the way… same uh, size too… n’stuffed animals… Shit, I like the elephant one”, she sarcastically remarks as she sits on the chair and hunches down, manspreading as she often does. Your eyes can’t help but roam down, because her damn thighs flexed under those jorts and you heard her, but you also kind of didn’t.

Ellie clears her throat and narrows her eyes. Jheez, she thinks, you must be absolutely exhausted since your eyes don’t seem to be able to focus.

“Huh?” you say, startled. You’re still standing up on those heels. Ellie sniffles and chuckles and her voice goes all quiet.

“Said pink nauseates me, that I hate those stuffed animals and that your elephant doll’s ugly as shit”

You roll your eyes and your tongue swipes over your glossy bottom lip. You bite it and you sit down on the chair. Ellie’s eyes scan over your chest and she averts her gaze like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hate you, chem tutor” you huff, resting your head on the palm of your hand. Ellie doesn’t maintain a second of eye contact but she chuckles and it’s cocky.

“You need me, and you need an A in chemistry”

You like that side of her.

You let your eyes blink lazily at her, a cheeky little smirk forming on your lips. When you open your mouth again, just to smack it on your glossy lips, you brush your leg ‘accidentally’ against hers, and rigid she goes. “Mhm, I definitely need you, Ellie…”

The apples of Ellie’s cheek shine in bright crimson and her hand flexes. She grabs her pen and clicks on it once. You didn’t mean it like that, she so obviously knows or believes, but it matters nonetheless. You like that side of her so much more.

You cross your pretty legs and let the tip of your heel graze her chair. “So, you want a drink before we start studying?”, you’re way too damn close, she nods — but she doesn’t need a ‘drink’ she needs a damn water fountain that directly flows onto her mouth and satisfies that damn drench. Is it possible for her damn knee to feel hot? Why is her knee feeling hot?

“Anything specific?”

“Jus’ waters fine” Ellie manages to murmur, lips forming a teeny tiny, shy, crescent smile.

“I was thinking more… like, wine? I have a wine cooler n’my room… if you wanted water i’d have to like, go downstairs and… It’s so lonely in there” your voice is saccharine, delicate, and it and coaxes Ellie’s mind.

“Wine’s perfect, I love wine” says Ellie.

She hates wine.

“Mhm, red or white?” — Your question comes when you lift your butt off the chair and walk slowly towards the cooler.

“Uh, r-red. S’much… richer” Ellie falters, remembering vaguely the time Joel had mentioned white wine’s for pussies. When she tried a red one, she gagged.

“Impressive” you note.

Ellie rolls the chair with the help of her heavy Doc's, and watches as you pour the red liquid into two delicate glasses. Your leg, she notices, is clad with a shiny, delicate golden piece of jewelry. Her eyes scan upwards, towards your bare thighs — the flesh is glistening, almost appearing as if it's covered with oil. Her mind drifts elsewhere, to a world in which your nightie is nothing but nonexistent, and those thighs...

Her stomach grumbles, she firmly holds onto it. Why NOW.

"Hungry?" you place the glass on the table, slightly nudging it towards Ellie.

She's starving.

you flash her a devilish smirk, cocking your head to the side.

"Oh, uhh... nope"

Famished.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #ellie williams #tlou smut #wlw smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x femme reader

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aceyalonso · 2 months ago

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touch me, please - CHARLES LECLERC

pairing : charles leclerc x best friend!reader kinktober day 12 - mutual masturbation

summary : who knew that watching 50 shades of grey with your best friend could end so well?

warnings/notes : swearing, smut, mutual masturbation, talks about sexual fantasies, brief mention of sex toys, edging, dry humping, fingering, handjob, implied oral (I was too lazy to write it)

word count : 4.8k

a/n : this is more on plot than the actual smut | yeah i dont rlly like this one

main masterlist | kinktober masterlist

8:16 PM

Y/n and Charles lounged on the plush couch in Charles' luxurious Monaco apartment, having spent the entire day watching movies. As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, they decided to watch one last film before calling it a night.

Charles scrolled through the options on his large flat-screen TV, his finger hovering over the title "50 Shades of Grey." He glanced over at Y/n with a mischievous grin. "What do you say we watch this one? I hear it's quite... stimulating."

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, so you want to corrupt me with some softcore porn, is that it?" Despite her teasing tone, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement at the prospect.

Charles chuckled, pressing play on the remote. "Come on, it'll be fun. And who knows, maybe we'll learn a thing or two."

As the movie progressed, the scenes grew increasingly intimate and explicit. Y/n found herself transfixed by the erotic displays on screen, her heart racing as Christian Grey dominated Anastasia Steele. When the scene shifted to Christian spanking Ana, Y/n felt a rush of heat between her legs.

Almost unconsciously, her hand drifted beneath the blanket, fingers grazing over the fabric of her pajama shorts. She bit her lip, trying to stifle a moan as she rubbed herself through the thin material. Beside her, Charles remained oblivious, his eyes glued to the television.

Y/n's breath hitched as she realized what she was doing, her hand stilling beneath the blanket. A wave of embarrassment washed over her, and she quickly withdrew her hand, hoping Charles hadn't noticed. She glanced over at him, but he seemed completely engrossed in the movie, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Trying to regain her composure, Y/n shifted slightly on the couch, crossing her legs tightly. She could still feel the heat pulsing between her thighs, a reminder of the desire that had momentarily overtaken her. As the scene on screen grew even more intense, Y/n found it increasingly difficult to ignore the ache building inside her.

She risked another glance at Charles, wondering if he had any idea of the effect the movie was having on her. But he remained focused on the unfolding drama, seemingly unaware of Y/n's inner turmoil.

The movie's erotic scenes continued to unfold, each one more tantalizing than the last. Y/n found herself squirming on the couch, her body reacting to the sensual displays despite her best efforts to remain composed. She could feel the dampness growing between her legs, her arousal becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

Y/n's gaze darted around the room, desperately seeking a distraction from the throbbing need that consumed her. She considered excusing herself early, retreating to the privacy of her bedroom to relieve the tension that coiled within her. But the thought of leaving Charles alone, of admitting the effect the movie was having on her, filled her with a sense of shame.

As another steamy scene played out on screen, Y/n bit her lip hard, trying to stifle the whimper that threatened to escape. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she fought to maintain control. She silently prayed for the movie to end, for the sweet relief of darkness and solitude, where she could finally give in to the desires that raged within her.

As the final credits rolled across the screen, Charles turned to Y/n with a knowing smirk. "You were awfully quiet during that one. Did it not live up to your expectations?"

Y/n swallowed hard, her face flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and lingering arousal. She forced a laugh, trying to play off her unusual silence. "Oh, you know me, just lost in thought. The movie was fine, I guess."

Charles raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying her excuse. "Right. Well, I'm going to head to bed. Try not to stay up too late thinking about Christian Grey." With a wink and a chuckle, he stood up from the couch and made his way toward his bedroom, leaving Y/n alone with her racing thoughts and throbbing need.

10:47 PM

Hours passed as Y/n remained locked away in her room, desperate to find release from the overwhelming arousal that consumed her. She had tried everything - her fingers, her vibrator, even her pillow pressed tightly against her aching cunt. But no matter how hard she tried, the elusive orgasm remained just out of reach.

Frustration mounted as Y/n tossed and turned on her bed, her skin slick with sweat and her body trembling with need. She couldn't understand why she couldn't climax, why her body refused to succumb to the pleasure she so desperately craved. It was as if her mind was holding her back, preventing her from fully letting go.

As the night wore on, Y/n's desperation grew, her cries of frustration echoing off the walls of her bedroom. She knew she should give up, that chasing the orgasm would only leave her more frustrated in the end. But the ache between her legs was too intense to ignore, driving her to continue her futile efforts long into the night.

Finally, after countless failed attempts to find release, Y/n decided to give up. She dragged herself out of bed, her body still thrumming with unfulfilled desire, and made her way to the bathroom. Perhaps a cold shower would help clear her mind and ease the ache that pulsed between her legs.

As she stepped under the spray, Y/n let out a shuddering sigh, the cool water cascading over her flushed skin. She leaned against the tiled wall, her head falling back as she closed her eyes. For a moment, she allowed herself to simply exist in the sensation, the water sluicing over her curves and washing away the sweat and frustration of the night.

But even as she tried to relax, Y/n couldn't shake the lingering need that still simmered within her. Her hands roamed over her slick body, tracing the contours of her breasts and the dip of her waist. She knew she shouldn't touch herself again, that it would only lead to more disappointment. But the temptation was too great to resist, and soon her fingers were delving between her legs once more, seeking the release that had eluded her for so long.

While her fingers worked between her legs, her mind began to wander, conjuring up vivid images of the erotic scenes she had witnessed on screen. At first, she imagined herself in Anastasia's place, bent over Christian Grey's lap as he delivered firm, stinging spanks to her bare bottom. The fantasy sent a shiver of excitement down her spine, and she increased the pace of her strokes, chasing the release that had eluded her for so long.

But then, almost without her conscious control, Y/n's thoughts shifted, and it was Charles' face that filled her mind's eye. She pictured herself over his lap, her shorts pulled down as he brought his hand down on her upturned ass. The thought of her best friend spanking her, dominating her in such an intimate way, caused a fresh wave of arousal to crash over her, and she let out a soft moan.

The forbidden thoughts of Charles continued to flood Y/n's mind, and she found herself edging closer and closer to the brink of orgasm. Her fingers moved faster, delving deeper into her slick folds as she imagined the feeling of his strong hands gripping her hips, holding her in place as he punished her for her naughty behavior.

But even as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable intensity, Y/n couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at her conscience. These were her best friend, her confidant, the one person she trusted above all others. How could she harbor such explicit fantasies about him? The shame of her desires warred with the all-consuming need that throbbed between her legs, leaving her teetering on the edge of release.

Just as Y/n teetered on the brink of orgasm, her conscience caught up with her, and the guilt she had been suppressing came crashing down. She snatched her hand away from her aching core, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to compose herself.

"What am I doing?" she whispered to herself, her voice trembling with a mixture of frustration and self-loathing. "He's my best friend, and I'm fantasizing about him spanking me like some kind of pervert."

Y/n sank to the floor of the shower, her back pressed against the cool tiles as she tried to calm her racing heart. She knew she needed to get a grip on herself, to push these inappropriate thoughts from her mind, and to focus on the friendship she valued so deeply. But even as she tried to rationalize her feelings, Y/n couldn't deny the lingering ache between her legs.

Y/n quickly finished her shower, lathering up her body with soap and rinsing away the evidence of her shameful desires. She stepped out of the stall, wrapping a fluffy towel around her still-tingling form. With a sigh, she padded over to her dresser and pulled out her usual pajamas - a tank top and a pair of tiny shorts that hugged her curves.

As she slipped into the revealing clothing, Y/n couldn't help but wonder if Charles would approve. Would he find her attractive in these barely-there garments, or would he be disgusted by her blatant display of skin? The thought sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through her body, and she had to resist the urge to touch herself once more.

Y/n laid back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling fan as it lazily circled above her. The cool air from the spinning blades caressed her skin, doing little to quell the heat that still simmered beneath her surface. Her mind raced with thoughts of Charles, of the forbidden desires that had consumed her during her failed attempts at self-pleasure.

She knew she should try to sleep, to put an end to this torturous night of frustration and guilt. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face, heard his voice, and felt the ghost of his touch on her skin. Y/n rolled onto her side, hugging her pillow tightly to her chest as she tried to banish the intrusive thoughts. But even as she drifted off into a fitful slumber, her dreams were haunted by visions of her best friend, and the shameful things she longed for him to do to her.

1:29 AM

Around 1:30 AM, Y/n finally gave up on the prospect of sleep. She tossed and turned restlessly, her mind and body still thrumming with the aftershocks of her earlier arousal. With a frustrated groan, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet.

Padding out of her room and down the hallway, Y/n made her way to the kitchen. She filled a glass with cool water from the tap, bringing it to her lips and taking a long, deep drink. The refreshing liquid soothed her parched throat and helped to clear her foggy mind.

As she leaned against the counter, sipping her water, Y/n's thoughts once again drifted to Charles. She couldn't seem to escape the memories of their movie night, of the way her body had reacted to the erotic scenes on screen. The ache between her legs had subsided, but the guilt and confusion still lingered, weighing heavily on her heart.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her hand poised to knock on Charles' bedroom door. She wasn't sure what had possessed her to come to him in the middle of the night, but something deep inside urged her to seek his comfort, his guidance.

After five seconds of silence, Y/n began to turn away, her footsteps soft on the carpet as she started to make her way back to her own room. But just as she was about to round the corner, she heard Charles' voice calling out to her. "Y/n? Is everything okay?"

Y/n froze, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to gather her thoughts. She knew she should just pretend she had made a mistake, that she had been sleepwalking or something. But the words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them.

Y/n turned back to face Charles, an awkward expression on her face. "Hey, um... I know this is kind of weird, but is it okay if I stay in your room for a little while? I think there might be a cockroach in mine."

She cringed internally at the lie, knowing full well that Charles had just had the entire apartment deep cleaned earlier in the week. There was no way there could be any bugs lurking in her room. But Y/n couldn't bring herself to admit the real reason for her late-night visit - the confusing mix of desire and guilt that had driven her to seek out her best friend's company.

Charles raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "A cockroach, huh? In the middle of the night?" He leaned against the doorframe, his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest. "You know, I think I might have seen a few of those little critters scurrying around in your room earlier. Must be a new species - the ones that only come out at 1:30 AM."

Y/n shook her head, a sheepish smile on her face as she realized how ridiculous her excuse sounded. "Never mind, forget I said anything. I'm just being silly." She turned to leave, her emotions still in turmoil from the events of the evening.

Charles felt a pang of guilt as he watched Y/n turn to leave, her shoulders slumped in defeat. He called out to her, his voice softening. "Hey, wait a second. I was just joking around. Of course, you can stay, if you really want to."

She paused, glancing back over her shoulder at Charles. She bit her lip, considering his offer. The thought of being in such close proximity to him, especially after the forbidden fantasies that had consumed her earlier, sent a shiver down her spine. But at the same time, she craved his comfort, his reassurance that everything would be okay.

Y/n walked past Charles and into his room, immediately slumping down onto his bed. She let out a heavy sigh, her body sagging against the mattress as she tried to process the whirlwind of emotions that swirled within her.

Charles followed her into the room, closing the door softly behind him. He could see the tension in Y/n's posture, the way her brow furrowed as she stared blankly ahead. "Wow, okay. Something is really bothering you, isn't it?" he asked gently, moving to sit beside her on the bed.

Y/n nodded, her face buried in the sheets as she tried to hide the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She couldn't bring herself to look at Charles, to see the concern etched on his handsome features. The guilt and shame that had plagued her all night surged to the surface, threatening to overwhelm her.

He placed a comforting hand on Y/n's back, rubbing gentle circles as he waited for her to speak. He knew her well enough to recognize when something was truly troubling her, and he wanted nothing more than to ease her pain. "Hey, it's okay," he murmured softly. "Whatever it is, we can talk about it. I'm here for you, always."

She took a deep, shuddering breath, finally lifting her head to meet Charles' gaze. Her eyes were red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears, her lower lip trembling slightly as she spoke. "It's just... it's such a silly reason to be feeling this way," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

He frowned, his brows knitting together in concern as he tried to decipher her words. "Silly? Y/n, there's no such thing as a silly reason for feeling upset. Whatever it is, it's important to you, and that means it's important to me too." He reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

Y/n stayed quiet for a long moment, her gaze dropping to her lap as she fidgeted with the hem of her tank top. Finally, she looked up at Charles, her eyes wide and pleading. "Promise you won't laugh, okay? This is... this is really embarrassing for me to admit."

Charles' expression softened, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I would never laugh at you, Y/n. You know that, right? Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm here to listen, not to judge." He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, his thumb tracing small circles on her skin.

Y/n took a deep breath, steeling herself for the confession that burned in her throat. "I... I was so quiet during the movie because I felt... I felt so horny," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't stop thinking about the things they were doing, about how much I wanted to do those things too."

Y/n's cheeks flushed a deep crimson as she continued, her voice trembling with a mixture of embarrassment and desperation. "After the movie, I went to my room and tried so hard to... to cum. I used my vibrator and everything, but nothing seemed to work. It was like my body just wouldn't cooperate, no matter how badly I wanted it."

As Y/n's confession spilled from her lips, Charles listened intently, his eyes widening slightly as he processed her words. He could hear the desperation in her voice, the needy, whiny tone that sent a shiver of arousal down his spine. Despite his best efforts to remain objective, he couldn't help but feel a stirring of desire at the thought of his best friend in such a state of wanton need.

"I... I thought of you," Y/n admitted shyly, her gaze dropping to the floor as she fidgeted with the hem of her tank top. "And it almost made me cum, but then I felt so guilty because we're just friends, and I shouldn't be thinking about you like that."

Charles swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to process the weight of Y/n's confession. He knew he should be shocked, maybe even disgusted by the thought of his best friend harboring such forbidden desires. But instead, he felt a surge of heat pooling in his lower belly, a primal hunger that threatened to consume him whole.

"Y/n..." he breathed, his voice low and husky as he reached out to cup her cheek with his hand. "Listen to me. There's nothing wrong with feeling the way you do. Desire is a natural thing, and it's okay to want someone you care about." His thumb brushed lightly over her bottom lip, his eyes darkening with a mixture of tenderness and lust.

She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes as she pulled away from Charles' touch. "No, it just feels wrong. We grew up together, we're best friends. I shouldn't be thinking about you like this, shouldn't be wanting you the way I do." Her voice cracked, the weight of her guilt and confusion evident in every word.

Charles took a deep breath, his eyes locking with Y/n's as he spoke. "Listen to me, Y/n. I... I've thought about you before. I've touched myself thinking about you, imagining how good you would feel around me, how pretty you would sound moaning my name." The words hung heavy in the air between them, the silence stretching out for a long moment.

Y/n's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat as she processed Charles' confession. She had never dared to dream that he might feel the same way, that he might have harbored these forbidden desires just as she had. Slowly, hesitantly, she leaned in closer, her gaze never leaving his.

Their lips met in a kiss, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through Y/n's body. She melted into Charles' embrace, her hands coming up to rest on his chest as she deepened the kiss. All the guilt, the shame, the confusion that had plagued her for so long seemed to fade away, replaced by a burning need that consumed her very being.

As the kiss deepened, Y/n felt a surge of desire coursing through her veins. She pressed herself closer to Charles, her body molding to his as they explored each other's mouths with increasing fervor. The thin fabric of her shorts did little to conceal the heat that radiated from her core, and she could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against her through his pajama pants.

Lost in the haze of passion, Y/n began to grind her hips against Charles', the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her body. She moaned softly into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair as she lost herself in the sensation of their bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

Charles broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he gazed down at Y/n with hooded eyes. In one swift motion, he flipped their positions, pinning her beneath him on the bed. His hands roamed over her body, slipping beneath the hem of her tank top to caress the smooth skin beneath.

With deft fingers, he tugged at the waistband of her shorts, sliding them down her legs along with her cotton panties that suited her perfectly. Y/n lifted her hips to assist him, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of desire and anticipation. As Charles tossed the garments aside, he took a moment to admire the sight of her naked form spread out before him, her skin glowing in the soft light of the room.

Charles hurriedly stripped off his own pajamas, revealing his toned, muscular body. He settled himself between Y/n's thighs, his hardness pressing against her slick folds. "Touch yourself," he commanded, his voice low and husky with desire. "I want to watch you pleasure yourself, Y/n."

Y/n's hands trembled slightly as she reached down, her fingers grazing over her sensitive clit. She let out a soft moan, her hips bucking involuntarily at the contact. Slowly, she began to circle her clit with her fingertip, her other hand reaching up to tweak and pinch at her hardened nipples.

Charles' words sent a shiver down Y/n's spine, his commanding tone igniting a fire within her that burned hotter than ever before. "Show me how you like it," he growled, his eyes dark with lust as he watched her every move. "I want to see you squirm."

Emboldened by his encouragement, Y/n increased the pace of her ministrations, her fingers moving in a frenzied dance over her most sensitive spots. She arched her back, pushing her breasts up towards the ceiling as she pinched and tugged at her nipples, the pleasure mingling with a delicious hint of pain.

Her hips rocked against her hand, seeking more friction, more pressure. She could feel the wetness pooling between her thighs, her arousal growing with each passing second. Y/n's moans grew louder, more desperate, as she chased the release that had eluded her for so long.

Charles watched with rapt attention as Y/n brought herself closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. His own hand moved slowly over his throbbing erection, his eyes never leaving her face as he drank in every gasp and moan that fell from her lips.

Just as Y/n teetered on the brink of orgasm, Charles spoke up, his voice low and authoritative. "Sorry baby, I'm the only one that's allowed to make you cum tonight, okay?" His words sent a jolt of excitement through Y/n's body, her movements faltering as she processed his command.

Y/n whimpered, her hips stilling as she looked up at Charles with pleading eyes. "Please," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need to cum so badly. Let me finish, I'm so close."

He gently took Y/n's hand away from her dripping pussy, replacing it with his own. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss as she arched her back, desperate for more friction. His left hand reached between her thighs, his fingers gliding easily through her slick folds.

Her own hand found its way to Charles' throbbing erection, her fingers wrapping around his shaft as she began to stroke him in time with the movements of his hand against her core. Their bodies moved together, their moans mingling in the heated air of the room.

As their foreheads pressed together, Y/n's moans grew louder, her body trembling with the intensity of her pleasure. Charles groaned, his own arousal reaching a fever pitch as he felt her tighten around his fingers. He could sense that she was close, her hips bucking wildly against his hand as she chased her release.

"That's it, baby," Charles encouraged, his voice rough with desire. "Let go, cum for me. I want to feel you come undone." His words seemed to push Y/n over the edge, her body convulsing as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. She cried out, her inner walls clenching around Charles' fingers as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her.

As Y/n's orgasm crashed over her, her hand faltered around Charles' cock, her grip loosening as she rode out the intense waves of pleasure. But despite her momentary lapse in attention, Charles found himself teetering on the brink of his own release.

With a guttural groan, he thrust into her hand one final time, his hot seed spilling over her fingers as he came hard. Y/n watched in awe as his body shuddered, his hips jerking with each pulse of his climax. She squeezed him gently, coaxing out every last drop of his essence as they both came down from their high.

Even as the aftershocks of her own orgasm continued to ripple through her body, Y/n kept stroking Charles' cock, her hand moving in a steady rhythm as she coaxed him through the final throes of his release. She marveled at the way his flesh twitched and pulsed beneath her fingers, the heat of his spend mingling with her own slick arousal.

As Charles' breathing gradually slowed, Y/n released his softening member, bringing her hand up to her lips. She licked a stray drop of his cum from her fingers, savoring the taste of their mingled essences. A satisfied smile played at the corners of her mouth as she gazed up at Charles, her eyes shining with a mixture of adoration and contentment.

She let out a soft, breathless laugh as she gazed up at Charles, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of mischief and satisfaction. "Fuck, I should've just told you about how I was feeling while we were watching the movie," she mused, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. "Maybe you could've just helped me out right there, saved me from all that frustration."

Charles chuckled, his arms tightening around Y/n's waist as he pulled her closer. "Mmm, I like the way you think," he murmured, nuzzling his nose against her neck. "Next time, just say the word, and I'll be more than happy to lend a hand... or a tongue."

He shifted his position, moving to straddle Y/n's hips as he settled his body between her thighs. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close in a tight embrace as he nuzzled his face against her neck. Y/n sighed contentedly, relishing the feeling of his warm skin against hers, the steady beat of his heart echoing in her ears.

As they lay there, basking in the afterglow of their passionate encounter, Charles nuzzled his face against Y/n's neck, his breath hot against her skin. "So…" he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "Are you up for another round?"

Y/n's eyes widened, a fresh wave of desire coursing through her veins at the thought of experiencing the same mind-blowing pleasure once more. She gazed up at Charles, a coy smile playing at the corners of her lips as she reached up to tangle her fingers in his hair. "Mmm, I think I could be persuaded," she purred, arching her back to press her body flush against his. "But only if you promise to make it even better than the first time."

Charles' eyes locked with Y/n's, a smoldering intensity burning in their depths. "Of course, baby," he murmured, his voice low and husky with promise. "I'll make sure it's even better than the first time."

With agonizing slowness, Charles began to lower himself, his lips trailing a path of fire down Y/n's body. He paused at her breasts, lavishing attention on her sensitive nipples before continuing his descent. Y/n's breath hitched as she felt his hot breath ghosting over her slick folds, her hips lifting instinctively in search of his touch.

Just as Charles' tongue made contact with Y/n's aching core, he whispered those three little words that she had been longing to hear. "I love you," he breathed, his voice muffled against her flesh.

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