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seattlesellie · 28 days ago

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ೀ 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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conchcronch · 27 days ago

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Kinktober 2024: Day 5

WC: 2700

Summary: He's overworked and desperately needs you to help him, too bad he's got a mountain of work to get through before the day is done.

A/N: I'm not all that thrilled with this piece tbh, likely I'll come back to revise it post kinktober, but let me know what you think! I've been lovingly calling this part 'Croc-Warming'

You were so tired of wandering the barren walls of Crocodile’s ship, convinced you had memorized every wood grain of every board that made up this boat. By the fourth pass by his office door this evening you thought maybe this was your chance.

For days you had been begging for him, every moment you had in private you were running your hands along him, trying to press up against him, anything to try to draw him in. But nothing would work. His excuse of being overworked and exhausted had been reasonable, he was at Cross Guild meetings every day, coming home and shutting himself in his office until the wee hours of the morning, but it had been so long since you had touched him you were sure he was craving it at least half as much as you were.

The heavy office door made such a pleasing sound when you tapped your knuckles against the door, pausing for a second before hearing his low voice beckon you in. “Hi” You poked your head in, watching him look up just enough to see you before looking back down at the weighty document that sat in front of him.

“If you’ve come to whine about when I’m going to fuck you, I can make it quick. I have about 200 pages of some agreement the clown insists is a ‘bonafide’ venture for us to pursue, so I have no time for you.” You tried to not let the last part cut too deep, knowing he was overextended and hadn’t been sleeping much. But if you could just convince him somehow, you knew for a fact he would feel so much better.

“Can I help?” You tried to keep your toe soft, stepping past the threshold of his office and closing the door behind you. The wood was cold on the bottoms of your feet, your fluffy socks doing little against the frosty waters cooling the bowels of the ship. He looked up at you, fully, pausing to pull his cigar from between his teeth as he racked his eyes over you. You had intentionally come down in a nightgown he had bought you, the deep purple fabric hugging you in all his favourite ways. ”I could make you a coffee if you wanted, to help you stay awake.” You stepped closer to him, even going around his desk when he didn’t immediately stop you. “But that might make falling asleep even harder for you.” He hummed, his cigar back between his teeth as he lowered his gaze back to the legal document in front of him. You stepped behind him, thankful for how low he kept his desk chair so you were able to reach his shoulders. “Is this okay?” You asked, leaning forward so he could feel your warm breath puff out over his ear.

“Yeah” You silently began working the tension out of his shoulders, your fingers struggling to push deep enough into his tissue to make much of a difference but when you heard him groan you knew you were somehow helping. Slowly you worked your fingers up to his neck, digging your fingers into his dense muscle, rubbing circles with your thumbs on his bare skin. “Why do I feel like you have ulterior motives for doing this?” You could feel the vibrations of his voice in your fingers as you moved them back down to his shoulders.

“If by ulterior motives you mean, I want to help you relax, then yes Sir you bet I do.” He grumbled at your use of the title, loving the way it sounded in your mouth.

“Were you always so sly?” He asked, taking his cigar out of his mouth and leaning his head back so he could look up at you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, moving your hands to comb through his slicked back locks, the gel beginning to break down and leave behind his well taken care of hair. He closed his eyes, sighing as you pressed kisses along his hairline. “I’ve missed you.” He hummed, which was the closest thing you’d get to him saying he had missed you.

“To be clear, your advances haven’t gone unnoticed.” You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips that were pressed to his forehead. “But I know if we start, there’s no chance my work is getting done.”

“You’ve been working 12 hour days for the last month, I think you can spare an hour or two for some self care.” He sighed like the weight of the seas rested solely on his shoulders.

“You have no idea how untrue that is.” You felt him begin to fidget, slowly pulling his head up which was your que to move away. “I’m sorry kitten” He reached around and grabbed your hand in his, tugging you to his side so he could see you, his eyes scanning over you as he chewed the tip of his cigar “and you look so pretty for me” you nodded, looked up at him through your lashes. He moved his large hand from your wrist to your body, running from your stomach up to your breast, thumbing your nipple through the thin material before dragging it up your neck, cupping your cheek in his hand. “I wish I didn’t have to work..” There was a sadness in his eyes, something you hadn’t ever seen there before. It was different from your moments of intimacy, where he looked at you with what you can only assume is love, this felt like remorse, remorse for having to choose work over you.

“It’s okay,” You pressed your face into his palm, holding onto his forearm with both hands as you savoured this moment of quiet contact because you weren’t sure when you would next get to experience it. “I’ll leave you to it then.” Kissing his palm before guiding his hand away from your face as you stepped away from his desk, “Try to get at least a little bit of sleep.” You looked back at him as you paused at the door, noticing the way he opened his mouth for a second like he was about to say something, giving him time to decide.

“You can stay…If you want.”

“You don’t mind?” He looked down at the papers in front of him

“I don’t.” It was late but you weren’t about to turn down the only invite you’ve gotten from him in who knows how long. You walked over to the elaborate couch he had opposite his desk, taking up your spot in the corner and watching as he worked.

After a few quiet moments of you watching him, you couldn’t help but shoot your shot. “Y’know,” You paused, waiting until his eyes met yours, an eyebrow quirking when he saw the look in your eyes. “If all you’re doing is reading, you could read over here.” You patted the crushed velvet cushion next to you.

“Why do I feel like I’m not going to get much reading done if I accept?” Despite the question that went answered, he pushed himself up, gathered the papers and walked over to the couch. He sat down, next to you, his hooked arm over the back of the couch, resting the stack of paper on his knee.

Everything about his proximity was driving you crazy, his cologne, the smell of his hair gel and watching his ringed fingers turn page after page. As you chewed the inside of your lip you scooted closer to him, leaving against the side of his chest and bringing your legs up against the soft fabric. At first you had started reading the words strewn across the pages, trying to follow the legal jargon being used but when you felt his arm wrap around you, holding you tightly against him you were reminded of the yearning between your legs.

Very slowly you ran a hand across his chest in what you hoped appeared to be a soothing gesture, rather than that of longing. But he knew you too well to assume your touch was anything other than a pleading gesture, but despite that, he didn’t stop you. Your hand moved across his wide chest, following the lines of his muscles as you slipped lower down his stomach but stopping at the hem of his vest. Every part of your brain was screaming at you to go lower, to slip your hand beneath the waist of his dress pants, to run your hand along his cock. And gods you wanted to, you’re confident you had never wanted something so badly before in your life, but you forced yourself to abstain, knowing the Guild had become something very important to him and you didn’t want to get in the way of that. “I wouldn’t stop you.” His words came out so casually, a puff of sweet cigar smoke flowing from his mouth and down over the papers.

“You wouldn’t?” You moved so you could look up at him, watching as his lilac eyes scanned line after line not stopping to meet your gaze.

”As long as I can still read, I won't stop you.” As if a gun had just been shot, you jumped to your knees, hands on his chest to support you as you moved to straddle his wide waist. He moved his head from side to side as you positioned yourself, your fingers working quickly to undo his belt, then his button, then his zipper. His underwear sat low on his hips, a dark treasure trail leading down past the fabric, beckoning you to follow it. ”Don’t think I’ve ever seen you so determined.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, finally watching you pull the waist of his boxers up enough that you could fish out his cock.

You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was half hard, the moment he had sat on this couch he knew where the night was going. He knew you were completely unable to resist him when he was so near, knowing the moment you leaned against him that he had you right where he wanted you.

When you finally pried him from his pants, he let out a long low groan, missing the feeling of your hands wrapped around his cock. He tried his best to focus on the pages, and when your hands left him he thought he may be out of the woods. That is, until he saw you hiking your dress up over your hips, exposing your bare cunt to him.

He opened his mouth to protest, but when you raised yourself up onto your knees and rubbed his swollen head against your soaked entrance he couldn’t stop the long moan he was too slow to smother.

“I knew you m-missed me.” You sighed, rubbing him between your folds enjoying the way he was struggling to hold the pages steady behind you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He huffed out, the words barely slipping from between his clenched teeth.

“I’m ah I’m keeping your cock warmmm.” You slowly lowered yourself down, his cock head pushing past your ring muscle with the sting of stretch.

“Fuck you’re too tight.” He pinched his eyes closed and his jaw clenched.

“It’s fine I’m s-stretched.” It was taking every ounce of your self control to not sit straight down on his cock but you knew it would be too much. “Just lemme get it all in then I’ll stop b-othering you.” Piecing your sentence together was a struggle, the feeling of his length stretching you more than your fingers ever could was causing your brain to blank.

When you finally sat against him, his cock nestled between your tight walls you laid against his chest, a shaky sign leaving your body. “You settled now?” You nodded, one hand feeling your lower stomach, half expecting to feel him bulging out of you.

The sound of his heartbeat steadying as you leaned your head against his chest lulled you into a sleep you didn’t even realize you needed. His hooked arm wrapping around your waist to keep you against him while his hand flipped page after page.

You didn’t know how long you had been asleep but you awoke to the sound of a heavy stack of papers falling on the ground, his hand rubbing down your back slowly. “Fuck kitten.” He groaned quietly into your hair, his lips moving against your head as he raised his hips to push himself somehow deeper. “You’re so good at keeping my cock nice and warm.” You blinked sleepily, looking up at him through heavy lashes.

“Are you all done?” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Think you can get up on those knees of yours and ride me?” You pressed your hands to his chest, supporting yourself against him as you pushed your body up onto your knees, his cock sliding out of your hole. “Take it real slow kitten, I won’t last long as it is.”

His eyes were focused down at your cunt, watching it sink down on his cock. The curved side of his hook ran down your back, pressing into the small of your back and making you arch into him. “Touch yourself.” He leaned back, his hips bucking up as he relaxed into the couch. He loved watching you do all the work, his eyes following your hand as it slid down your stomach, your fingers slipping down until your clit was between your index and middle fingers. You moved them slowly, rubbing along either side of the sensitive bud as you rode him. “How’s it feel?”

You nodded, furrowing your brows as you pinched your eyes closed in an attempt to put together a coherent sentence. “It feels…fuck it feels as good as the first time.” His hand moved from your hip to your cheek, drawing you into a kiss. It felt like it had been years since he had kissed you like this, tongue sliding along yours as he groaned into your mouth. “Croc” you whispered as he swallowed your words “Will you cum inside me?” He didn’t answer right away, just smiled against your lips.

“Only if you cum first.” You nodded, his lips overtaking your own again, ending any further conversation. The combination of your fingers moving against your clit, his tongue entertaining with your own and his cock bullying its way against your cervix, it didn’t take long for you to clench around him as the crashing wave of orgasm overtook you.

Your legs tensed, slamming you down and taking him as deep as he could go. Your walls quivered around him, ushering him to his own climax. The air was knocked from his lungs, the pleasure overtaking his body entirely as he filled you with his cum. The feeling of warmth flooded you, and just when you thought you could never feel more full then you did, he just kept going. His hips thrusted up into you, each thrust weaker than the last until they slowed and you could lay limply against him.

“Fuck” was the only word he could produce, all others seems too far away. He rubbed his hand along your back, not minding the thin layer of sweat that had gathered on any exposed skin. “Kitten, let’s get you up.” He leaned forward, speaking directly in your ear.

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not ready to move yet.” Your voice was raspy, clearly you had been louder than you realized.

“I want to get you cleaned up before bed.” Your eyelids feel heavy and the stiffness in your hips was beginning to morph into a pain. “I’ll run us a bath and then we can get some sleep.” A bath sounded so nice, you wanted to tell him how badly you wanted that, but words were just out of reach.

“You’re…you’re going to come to bed tonight?” Slowly he lifted you off his cock, shifting you to being carried bridal style as he walked through the halls you had spent so much time pacing through, waiting for him to finally let you in.

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