#kisses turned into freckles AU

[rauchendesgnu]

Martin doesn’t have any freckles. Jon has watched him and the others for a while now, and he knows that everyone has freckles. Tim is absolutely covered in them, and he seems to get more and more every day as Sasha seems very determined to kiss every part of Tim that is not yet covered in tiny dark spots. Everyone has been loved by someone at some point. Everyone has been kissed, no matter if a platonic peck on the cheek or a heated kiss on the mouth. Everyone but Martin, it seems. Or: Jon realises Martin has never been kissed. He rectifies that right away.

I wrote another thing! idk where I heard about the AU or if it just popped into my head, but every freckle is a kiss a loved one gave you.

for @ialwayscomewhenyoucall

[tired-biscuit]

I licked it so it’s mine

pairing: stepbrother!yuuji/fem!reader

premise: After a long day of work, you decide to make use of the empty house by having some drinks and a movie night with your older stepbrother. Eventually, one drink turns into two, two become three, and so on. As the buzz of the alcohol progressively fills you with more and more courage, interesting things commence.

cw: 18+ MDNI. stepcest, ‘in the flurry of the moment’ setting, no curses AU, characters are in their 20s, intoxication, dubcon, implied corruption, coersion and pressuring from reader, descriptions of size difference, manhandling and roughness — poor yuuji gets a little too into it in the end.

wc: 6.7k

divider credit: @/adornedwithlight

———

Your big stepbrother Yuuji is likeable. He always has been.

To be fair, what is there not to like? When it comes to his looks, Yuuji is tall, handsome, a proud owner of a pair of pretty honey-coloured eyes that make him resemble a puppy, and an even prettier smile. Every summer, his skin gets this wonderful, almost golden tan that makes him outright glow from within, and his face gets sun-kissed, causing his already rosy cheeks to get dotted with tiny, barely visible freckles that gather under his eyes and only enhance his cuteness.

However, after living with him for so long, you’ve since learned that he rarely actually pays attention to his appearance, much less dresses to impress.

After all, Yuuji is a simple man. He does not care about clothes besides the level of comfort they provide, and yet he still somehow manages to achieve victory. Catching girls checking him out when he’s in nothing but his trusty pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt is a common occurrence. Even listening to flustered whispers and giggles has turned into a regular thing at this point.

On top of all that, he’s also nice. Kind and open and warm – you could use so many more positive words to describe your stepbrother’s wonderful personality, but you’re pretty sure that they’d never do it justice. Perhaps the only bad thing you could say about him is that he’s too nice. Too helpful and giving.

Especially towards the people who don’t deserve it.

And as you watch him from the corner of your eye now, hanging out at the park and licking the ice cream that he’d treated you to as a reward for beating him in his favourite video game, you try to consider yourself as one of the people who do deserve his everlasting kindness. Who do deserve to be treated nicely by him, and to hear the laughter in his voice, and to accept his almost naive generosity.

It’s a nice day out today. The wooden park bench that you’re sitting on currently is warm from the setting sun that still filters through the leaves above your heads. Small, moving patches of light and shadow linger everywhere, causing you to stare, almost mesmerized, as some of them lazily continue to dance across your big brother’s face.

Yuuji’s arms are splayed wide open and draped on either side of the worn backrest that you’re both leaning against. He’s finished his ice cream ages ago, so now he’s got his legs outstretched and his head angled up towards the sky, enjoying the peaceful tranquility that this year’s summer brings. 

There are quite a few people out and about in the park during this time of day – most of them joggers and dog walkers that are using the slightly cooler temperatures to their benefit – but if you listen closely, you can make out distant shouting and laughter coming from a group of children who are occupying the playground that’s on the other side of the trees.

The sound makes you feel kind of old, so you zero in on your sandals to keep yourself busy.

“Remember when you used to scream like that?”

“What?” 

When you turn your head to the side again, Yuuji’s gaze looks expectant.

“Back when we were kids,” he explains, jerking his chin towards the direction of the playground. “You got all shrieky and high-pitched whenever it was my turn to chase you, remember? Made you sound like a deflating balloon just by running in your direction.”

“Oh!” You take another lick of your ice cream, fully flattening the scoop before sinking your teeth into the edge of the cone. The scent of strawberries fills your nose in an instant. “In my defense, that probably happened because I didn’t like playing tag with you all that much.” 

He quirks an eyebrow at this, intrigued. “How so?”

“Well, for starters, your legs were longer than mine, which made you catch up so fast that it wasn’t fun for me anymore. Aaand your hands were also always sticky for some reason,” you reply, still chewing on the wafer. “It was gross.”

“Wow, okay.” He rolls his eyes but it immediately gets followed by a brief chuckle that escapes his lips. “Excuse me for trying to be a little bit sentimental with my clean freak of a baby sister.”

“I’m normal… You’re just nasty,” you fire back, smiling when he goes to playfully shove you.

His hand is warm when it lands on your shoulder; so warm, in fact, that you can feel the rise in temperature even through the sleeve of the thin, cropped T-shirt that you’ve put on this morning. 

It doesn’t take you by surprise. For as long as you’ve known him, Yuuji has been one to have blood as hot as molten lava running through his veins. You’re unsure how he survives it whenever the weather is scorching hot, like today for example – August has always proved to be a bitch whenever it comes to heat – but so far he seems to be doing just fine.

And while it may be weird to some, him being hot-blooded is the reason why you sometimes like to drag him into your bed during the winter months, when it’s cold and you come back home from work feeling like your toes have turned half-frozen in your shoes. Besides being provided with good company, he’s also like your own personal heater.

And that’s it. There’s nothing else to it; how could it be when he’s your stepbrother, for crying out loud! You grew up together and have lived under the same roof for years. He’s walked into your room just to leave the lights on and the door open so many times. You’ve endured his godawful Fortnite phase and have seen him be at his worst just as he did with you. The only feelings that you harbour for him are strictly platonic. 

You’re both pretty set on that.

“I should take that ice cream from ya as a form of punishment for being so mean to me,” said stepbrother teases now, pulling you back from your thoughts. When you look up at him, he’s grinning like a little boy. From ear to ear and in a way that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Cute.

“Nu-uh,” you respond, allowing the evidently distrustful tone to lace your voice. “I licked it so it’s mine.”

“Tsch.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Like that’s ever been an issue before. C’mon, give.” 

“It is for me because unlike you, I’m not- Hey!” Before you can finish your sentence, he swipes the ice cream from your hand, successfully stealing it right in front of your nose.

You glare at him now, brow slightly furrowed in annoyance, as Yuuji proceeds to lick the melting sweet with exaggerated delight. Since whatever was left of the scoop sank deeper into the cone, you realize that you’re unexpectedly intrigued by the fact that he needs to push his tongue out a little more to get to it. 

And he does; of course he does. He twirls it across the flat, creamy surface, and it’s not long before the inside of his mouth is coated in milky pink and there’s a hum of overly satisfied approval sounding from the back of his throat.

You’re unsure how to feel about the entire thing, but you definitely don’t dwell on it.

“Mmm,” he purrs, squeezing his eyes shut. He even makes sure to go as far as to smack his lips. “Mmm-mmm-mm! So good.”

For whatever reason, you feel your stomach do a weird spin as you listen to the sounds he’s making now. It’s like there’s an instant flash of heat searing through your body, similar to the pesky one that you get in the middle of the night when you’re hormonal and on your period, but before you can even properly acknowledge it, it’s gone as fast as it came.

“Again: you’re so gross,” you manage to say with a huff that’s supposed to be disapproving but doesn’t sound like that at all. The shake of your head that you add to the jab also feels somewhat unnatural. Every one of your mannerisms does, actually.

Yuuji, seemingly blissfully ignorant of your inner turmoil, laughs before he takes a giant bite out of the side of the cone and finally hands it back to you.

“Hey, at least my hands ain’t sticky this time.”

———

The house is empty when you come back home that evening.

This too is not much of a surprise, really. Your parents have been gone for the last couple of days, enjoying their yearly vacation to the seaside that neither you nor Yuuji could attend this time because of your work schedules. 

So while your mom and his dad are basking in the sun and drinking sugary cocktails, you’re waking up at six in the morning every day to make it to your dull desk job in time, and he’s stuck flipping burgers at McDonalds and honing his social skills in the drive-through booth for eight hours every day.

Poor, poor you.

“Did you see the drinks they’re having over there? Gosh,” Yuuji grumbles on this exact topic as he throws himself onto the couch and flicks the TV on. His expression looks mildly conflicted at the list of movies he’s being offered by the streaming service you’re both leeching off of, but it eases back into neutral as soon as he rests his feet atop the coffee table and crosses his ankles. “They even had those fancy umbrellas on the top and everythin’.”

“There, there,” you say, quickly patting his knee before sitting down beside him. You’re not sure why, but you pay extra attention to the small sliver of distance that you keep between his leg and your own now. The feeling from earlier didn’t fully go away yet, so touching him or him touching you still feels kind of odd.

Meanwhile, Yuuji doesn’t seem to acknowledge it at all, because now he’s resting his head against your shoulder, invading your personal space whilst he pouts.

The action is nothing unusual for him – it’s normal, he does it all the time – and yet you still swallow thickly, trying to ignore the sudden hyper awareness. 

“What is it now, you big baby?” you manage to muster out, taking the remote from him.

“Eh… It’s nothing,” he says.

“Aha,” you say.

“Well… It’s just that I want nachos and cocktails with fancy umbrellas, too!” he bristles at your prodding, pressing the side of his face even further into your shoulder. His hair tickles your cheek because of it.

“We have nachos at home,” you utter, trying to avoid the ticklish sensation.

“Yeah. Shitty tortilla chips that come in a bag, with a side of tasteless dip from the fridge,” he quips. “Yum.”

You stifle your laughter. He’s making such a big deal out of a silly thing like nachos. “I’m pretty sure they all come in a bag, Yuu… Come to think of it, theirs are probably stored in one of those big, wholesale bags that most food places get.”

“Well, I want the wholesale ones, then.”

“You’re pretty set on this, huh?”

He just gives you a look.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you ramble, pulling back just enough to make him lift his head and look at you properly. “How about… we try to make semi-decent nachos and cocktails with what we have, and have ourselves a little movie night since we’re both off work tomorrow and we definitely deserve it after all the pain and suffering we’re going through?”

Yuuji muses. “All you do at your job is sit behind a desk all day.”

You feel your eyes narrow. “So?”

“So,” he says, sounding smug. “I’d hardly call that pain and suffering.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you chide. “I wasn’t aware that your job also consisted of crawling underneath barbed wire and coming face to face with excruciating death between all those burgers you flip.”

He pokes you in the side for the insult. After jumping a little bit at the ticklish sensation, you make sure to immediately return the favour.

“Do you want those cocktails or not, Ronald McDonald?”

Yuuji stretches his arms above his head and yawns before he gets ready to stand up. “Yeah, yeah… Let’s make ‘em fancy.”

He follows you into the kitchen then, where you both work to recreate the vacation food and drinks to the best of your – and your pantry’s – capabilities. 

The nachos end up being surprisingly decent after you sprinkle some shredded cheese on top and give them a spin in the microwave. The cocktails, on the other hand, are a mixture of cheap wine from the corner store and coke, adorned with pieces of sliced pineapple at the top because you sadly ran out of cute paper umbrellas, much to Yuuji’s disappointment.

Though in the end, everything works out just fine.

You have yourselves a nice, perhaps you could even call it relaxing kind of evening. You change into your comfortable pyjama shorts and tank top, he gets rid of his T-shirt because he prefers being shirtless during the summer, and you play a couple rounds of his favourite game again; all of which you lose because Yuuji decides that he isn’t holding back this time. Afterwards, you watch a movie that isn’t all that good necessarily, but isn’t half bad either, and take rather hefty sips of your makeshift cocktails.

By the time the credits start to roll, you’re both feeling a little buzzed and warm in the face. Neither of you feels like calling it a night just yet, though – being off work the next day at the same time happens so rarely, after all – so you decide on watching something equally as uneventful and drinking some more.

So that is how both yourself and Yuuji end up drinking more than you’d initially planned. The alcohol becomes easier to swallow down when you’ve already numbed out your taste buds and have adapted them to the cheap, shitty wine flavour. It even makes the pineapple slices look cool.

And now you’re both drunk. Not shitfaced, per se, but definitely more than tipsy. Enough that it’s making your vision a little bit blurry around the edges, your limbs soft and pliant, and your mind fuzzy. Enough that it’s making you feel like you could do just about anything you’d set your mind to.

You’re both giggling like morons as you sit cross-legged and face each other on the couch. He’s desperately trying to tell you a story about one of his co-workers, who, according to him, is supposed to be very weird, but he keeps on slurring his words and keeps on losing track so often that it’s making the entire thing outright incomprehensive.

“Dude-” Your voice falters as yet another set of giggles pushes its way out. Goddamn alcohol. “You have got to stop laughing and tell me whatever it is you want to tell me about this weirdo, because if you don’t, I swear to god that I’m going to fucking lose my shit.”

“Listen… Jus’ listen-” 

“I am listening, you dumbass!” you interrupt, reaching over to flick his forehead. He flinches at the action.

“No, but like,” he mumbles now, rubbing the aching spot. “I want to tell you, but at the same time… I kind of don’t.”

This instantly succeeds in sparking your interest. There’s something he’s unsure about telling you? How curious; you tell each other everything!

You lean forward slightly, resting your elbows on your knees. “How so?”

Yuuji’s eyes flicker towards the television for a quick second. The movie is still playing – it bathes half of his face with light and the other half in shadows. 

Much to your bafflement, he sheepishly bites his lip before he says, “‘Cause it’s a secret.”

“A secret? Really?” You groan as you grab the small decorative pillow just so that you can throw it his way. Despite his intoxicated state, he’s still rather quick to deflect it. It lands on the ground soundlessly.

“What was that for?” he asks now, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, I dunno,” you say, bristling. “Did it maybe ever cross your mind that telling me that is only gonna make me want to hear it more?”

“I mean,” he says, scratching the back of his head and shrugging. “I guess…?”

You give him a pointed glare. “You know how much I love secrets, Yuu!”

“I know.”

“Then tell me!”

“No.”

You pout in answer, clearly unsatisfied.

Yuuji looks at you, his expression slipping into something that’s a bit more sincere and apologetic. He watches as you continue to avoid eye contact and push out your bottom lip, clearly trying to appear upset as much as you possibly can in order to get him to change his mind.

Sooner or later, it ends up working.

A person like him is so giving… Who is he to ever tell you no?

“Oh, fine,” he says, sighing with defeat. “Just pinky promise that you won’t tell anyone, okay?”

Your grin is pleasantly lazy because of the alcohol that’s still coursing your veins as you chirp, “Of course.”

He hooks your pinkies together and shakes them from side to side lightly as if it’ll help solidify the promise better.

“So, what’s the secret?” you ask when you pull your hand back and use it to support your cheek.

After a short moment of silence, he finally forces himself to blurt out, “My co-worker, he, uh… He thinks you’re hot.”

You stare at him, arching one eyebrow. “Wait, that’s it?”

Yuuji can feel his entire face tingling with heat now. The blush that steadily continues to bloom makes his skin slightly itchy, but he refrains from scratching it. “Yeah, that’s it.”

You watch him closely. 

“What?” he inquires, not liking the fact that you aren’t saying anything. The flush of red has crept down to his neck now.

“You’re lying,” you reply at long last, expression blank.

He sputters when he inhales a sharp breath, ready to defend himself. “Am not!”

You throw another pillow at him. He avoids this one, too. “Are too!”

“Stop throwing stuff at me!”

“I will, if you tell me the secret!”

“I already did!”

“The actual secret, dumbass!”

“Fine… Fine! Ugh,” he groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “He also said that, umm…”

You enthusiastically gesture at him to continue when his voice fades into nothing again. Curiosity is threatening to eat you alive at this point. “Yes? He said what?”

“He said-” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows thickly. “He basically told me that if you were his stepsister, that he would’ve been all over you ages ago. Or whatever.”

You stare at him once more. He stares right back.

“What?” he asks again, this time slightly more nervous. His pupils are huge and the blush is starting to make him sweat. “What is it?”

After a moment that seems like forever, you repeat, “...That’s it?”

Yuuji feels like his heart has dropped to his ass. “What d’you mean that’s it?!”

“Exactly what I said,” you say, shrugging. “Your co-worker has a ‘Oh no, stepbro, I’m stuck’ fantasy. So what?”

“I-” Yuuji’s eyebrows draw so tightly together until there’s a small v etched between them. He pauses for a long time before he says, “Don’t you think that’s weird, though?”

“Not really.” You take another small sip from your glass and place it back onto the coffee table. “I mean, have you never noticed how popular it is in porn? Lots of people are into that kind of stuff.”

“N-no…” He stutters, somehow succeeding in turning even redder in the face. “I don’t-”

“Watch porn?” you offer quickly, already rolling your eyes.

“Not porn like that,” he quips, suddenly sounding uncharacteristically snippy. 

You chuckle at the tone he uses, attempting to tame the upward curl of your lips. Things are getting interesting and dirty – something you don’t get to encounter a lot whenever it comes to golden boy over here. “Well, what kind of porn do you watch, then?”

Oh, that is very bold. If it weren’t for the liquid courage, you doubt you’d dare ask the question. But it’s out in the open now.

Hanging in the tense air that’s between you two. Waiting. Preying.

“Not the stepsister kind,” he says in a low mutter, surprising you that he even chose to answer. “I’m not into that.”

You can’t help but let the smile show now. “How can you know if you’ve never seen it?”

Yuuji gawks before letting out a nervous laugh. “...What?”

“I said,” you repeat, leaning ever so slightly closer. Enough to make him feel on edge, but not enough to scare him away. “How can you know that you’re not into it-” There’s another pause, another closing of distance. His freckles are visible now. “If you’ve never seen it? Hmm?”

“I just-” He tenses up when your knee bumps into his. The short moment of contact is electrifying for some reason; it jumpstarts his heart into a far quicker rhythm. “I just, uh, do.”

You look him directly in his sweet honey eyes. “Yeah?”

And he immediately rushes to break eye contact. “Yeah.”

“You know,” you trail off innocently, patting his knee this time instead of ‘accidentally’ bumping it. Unlike before, though, your hand remains on his leg. “For someone who swears up and down to not be into it… You really don’t sound so sure about it to me.”

“Well, I am,” he protests in a heartbeat, however the bite that’s supposed to be in the statement isn’t quite there. 

The reason behind it might be because he’s quite tipsy and can’t bring himself to be firm with you. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because he’s staring at his lap when he says it; right at the spot where you’re still touching him.

Your hand feels so warm as it sits on his thigh. And pleasant. 

He doesn’t exactly… want it to go away.

You watch as he huffs in defeat and shakes his head with evident frustration the thought must have evoked. It causes a giggle to bubble up your throat from how entertained you are. You don’t even try to stop it this time.

He could tell you off, call you names, push you away, whatever… But he doesn’t. 

No, he’s just too good of a big brother.

So you allow the flat of your palms to rest on both of his knees now. Still careful, though not nearly as much as before. Meanwhile, your own knees dig into the softness of the couch as you readjust your weight forward so that you can lift yourself just enough to be eye level with him.

Guilty anticipation pools inside his gut and turns him frazzled when you use the momentum to invade his personal space even further. All of a sudden, you find yourself nose to nose with your cutesy stepbrother. Chest to chest. So close that he can feel the heat of your breath on his lips and smell the fading scent of your perfume mixing with thin layers of sweat and sunscreen. 

“Prove it, then,” you say. Your voice could barely be considered above a whisper but the silence that follows after it is so loud.

Yuuji gulps from how unnerving this entire situation has become. Gulps. “Prove… Prove what?”

“Prove that you’re not into it.”

Thump, thump, thump! His heart is going wild. “How?”

“Watch it with me.” You move your hands upwards ever so slightly as you speak the words, but it’s not long before you’re sliding them all the way up to his thighs. 

They’re strong, his legs, and the muscles in them flex and harden underneath your touch, making the lines of his gorgeous, so profoundly male-like physique all the more defined. The hairs there are lighter in colour and they’re silky smooth. They tickle the tips of your fingers when you finally let them settle at the very edge of his gym shorts. 

Digging your nails into his skin just enough to make him jump a little, you add, “Please?”

God, you’re so drunk and… something else. Your pupils are huge; so big that Yuuji swears he can see himself in them, and the laugh you let out a moment later is girlish and kind of breathless. 

And he, well, he just looks so goddamn confused in response to it. Like a little puppy that’s been caught doing something naughty and bad. Big, round eyes, twitchy upper lip and everything.

“I, umm… I dunno,” he chokes out finally. He feels like coughing so that he can clear his throat, but he somehow manages to stifle the annoying sensation. “I just… I’m not so sure about that-”

“Pleeease, Yuuji,” you repeat, pushing, pushing, pushing. You even start pouting right at him as a means to get him to budge. “I wanna!”

Fuck.

The whine that’s appeared in your voice now makes his cock involuntarily twitch. What the actual fuck, his dick is responding to you – his baby sister. Little by little, blood is rushing south; right below his waistline until he can feel warmth slowly taking over every inch of his lower half. He tries to make it stop, to put an end to it, to slow it down at the very least, but his efforts prove to be completely useless.

His throat feels scratchy and dry now from not allowing himself to cough, and his skin feels too tight on his face. It makes him rasp as he says, “You, uh, you wanna?”

“Mhmm,” you purr in a mere instant, squeezing his thighs again just the tiniest bit. Goddammit, since when did those parts start feeling so fucking sensitive? “Wanna… wanna see you start sweating a little when you realize that your dick is getting hard over dirty shit like stepcest, you know? Wanna prove you wrong.”

A second twitch, a second rush of blood. Yuuji’s stomach spins and tightens with anxiety. His nerves go haywire. With each passing second, he can feel his cock getting heavier in his shorts. Can feel pre-cum turning the front of his underwear more and more sticky. Can feel his mind going dizzy with quick-paced lust.

You’re just so goddamn close. Staring right at him, with your tits almost on full display in that tiny thing you call a shirt, and with that infuriating, shit-eating smirk plastered on your lips. Kneeling right between his legs, talking about stepbrothers fucking stepsisters, allowing your breaths to intermingle as if it’s no big deal.

But that’s not all. Besides being too close for comfort, he’s also pretty sure that you’re quietly hinting at the possibility of something happening tonight, like letting him stuff your pussy with his cock. Hell, forget stuffing – even just seeing it would be nice. 

Not that he’s ever thought about laying eyes on his sister’s cunt, much less filling it, but now that this entire thing is unfolding in real time, before his very eyes, and he swears that he can feel the tips of your fingers subtly brushing against the ridge of his hard-on over his clothes… He doesn’t feel like refusing the idea necessarily, if it were to actually happen.

Fuuuck!

“It-it won’t,” Yuuji stammers in one last attempt at keeping his sense of morality, however all he does is end up fumbling over his own damn self like some pathetic loser. He’s so red in the face, it’s obvious now. “I, ah, I already told you-”

His sentence gets interrupted by a sudden kiss that you press right onto his still half-open mouth. 

You don’t know what exactly it is that compels you to do it, but here you are. Kissing your big brother. Latching yourself to him. Offering him things you shouldn’t.

Oh, here you are, all right.

The kiss itself is clumsy, rash, idiotic. Your teeth clash as you hurry forward to wrap your arms around his neck, and there’s a small, muffled noise – that terribly sounds like a squeal of excitement – escaping your lips when his big hands find your waist and he yanks you forward until you’re fully seated on his lap.

One second ago you were merely looking at each other, tip-toeing the line but never quite overstepping it, and now you’re grinding against one another like animals in heat, tangling tongues and tasting each other’s spit. Everything happens so fast and it’s all based on pure instinct and executed with zero thinking, because if it happened any other way, you’d surely regret it.

He tastes like pineapple and the lousy chewing gum that he bought back at the corner store earlier in the afternoon but spat out pretty soon after. You shouldn’t find the odd combination of flavours that good, you know this, but right now the inside of his mouth tastes like sweet, sweet heaven.

And possible release.

“Fuck, Yuu,” you pant between messy kisses, running your fingers along his undercut. “You’re so hard, look… Proves me right, mm?”

Yuuji wants to tell you to shut up, to stop saying things like that, to stop making him feel both so guilty and turned on at the same time because it’s complicated and he doesn’t fucking know what to make of it.

But all he ends up saying instead is, “Yeah...”

Because, as always, he’s simply too good of a big brother. Too good to tell you no.

Especially when you’re right.

And even if your big brother’s cock is hiding underneath several layers of clothing, you can still feel it pressing firmly between your legs now. Thick and heavy and in urgent need of some tender affection; a little sisterly love, if you will. It’s making you grow more and more expectant of what’s to come. There’s no space for shame left.

His size seems promising – at least judging by the feel of it. Each time you push your weight against him, circling your hips a little, he responds by pushing you down even further with the help of his hands on your hips; spreading your folds slightly apart and allowing the seam of your shorts to dig straight into your clit.

Your breathing grows laboured because of it. Slowly but surely, you’re becoming a hot mess of mm’s and ahh’s. And Yuuji, poor, sweet Yuuji, is nowhere near to being any better after he’s forced to hear all of it.

He’s sweating like crazy. Is throbbing between his legs. Is trying to tame his pulse but it just keeps on hammering and ringing inside his ears. The blush is making his entire face itch all over again and his clothes feel too tight on his body. What else is there?

Oh, even his heart feels like it’s jammed itself inside his throat when he pulls back just enough to break the string of saliva that’s bridging the narrow space between your mouths and asks, “You sure you wanna do this?”

“Just fuck me already, god,” you hiss in response. You’re so sexually frustrated that it’s making you pissy.

Neither of you has planned this nor expected this to happen, but you’ve both been feeling lonely, terribly single; are yearning to be touched. It’s been a while for the two of you, shit happens and people get too busy to enjoy the simpler pleasures in life, and you both consider the other to be attractive, so… why not?

Why not? Maybe because this entire thing could, quite possibly, be a disaster in the making.

Still, it doesn’t feel like a disaster when Yuuji’s hands wrap around your sides and slam you down on the couch. Doesn’t feel like a bad thing when he blindly hooks his fingers to the waistband of your shorts and you bring your legs closer to your chest and lift your hips a little so that he can tug them off easier.

Either he’s too impatient to wait or he did it by complete accident, but he manages to pull down your panties right along with your shorts. They’re both left dangling from your left ankle now, hanging uselessly and completely forgotten because he’s too busy trying to push himself inside you.

His back is hunched and his rosy lips are parted as he sucks in and exhales sharp breaths above you. They fan your forehead, cooling the sweat that’s gathered there, only causing you to shiver. 

You press your foreheads together when you lift yourself slightly with the help of your elbows so that you can reach between you, tug his waistband low just enough to expose him and guide him inside you. He grits his teeth, baring them like a threatened animal as soon as your fingers curl around the base of his cock, mindlessly stroking the impressive length, spreading the pre-cum that’s gathered at the tip without any sense of patience.

Neither of you looks into each other’s eyes; all of your attention is aimed at the spot where you almost connect. After all, his fat cockhead is bumping against your sticky pussy now, inconsistently gliding up and down and smearing arousal. Every time he teases your entrance, your breath hitches in the back of your throat and you cling onto him a little harder.

“Yuujiii,” you whine, teeth sinking into your bottom lip so harshly that you fear you might have drawn blood. He almost doesn’t recognize the sound of your voice. “What’re you waiting for?! Put it iiin!”

“Yeah… Y-yeah, okay,” he bites out, trying to stop the persistent flutter of a muscle in his cheek. His arms feel like giving in but the muscles in his biceps still flex and shudder with anxiety and anticipation when he finally presses in.

His cockhead pushes past the initial ring of muscle pretty effortlessly from how wet you’ve gotten from mere kissing and a little bit of grinding. Perhaps it’s the alcohol that’s making you so pliant and eager, but it’s easy to open your legs wider so that you can let in even more of him.

Yuuji feels dizzy; like the entire world is spinning. You’re underneath him, panting so loudly and you’re so warm inside, so accepting, so wet. Your pussy hugs him just right, walls squeezing around his girth, sucking him in further. The sensation makes him drop his entire weight right on top of your writhing body the second he allows himself to slowly rock into you and sink balls deep.

He hides his face into the crook of your neck as he begins to lazily thrust inside you, doing whatever feels best because he can’t possibly bring himself to form thoughts right now. In and out, the strokes are long, slow and deep. So deep, in fact, that they make you wince each time he hits the sweet spot that’s hiding inside.

You’ve ended up so close yet again; with your limbs intertwined and your bodies pressed tightly together that your shirt is crinkling between you. It rides up with the movement of his hips slamming against your own, exposing your stomach, making you stick to each other from how sweaty you’ve gotten.

“Nngh… You feel… s’good,” he grits out, quiet moaning already lacing his voice. His breathing has gotten so heavy that it’s creating moisture on the small patch of skin on your neck that he’s got his mouth pressed against. “Won’t last long… Ca-ah… Can’t.”

He sounds so fucking drunk as he continues to say pure nonsense into the side of your throat and keeps on pressing you into the softness of the couch. Not only on alcohol, but also on your pussy it seems. 

It makes him practically start pounding into you now. Abusing your tight little hole. He slips one arm underneath you and pulls you even closer so that he can steady himself a little bit, and wetness squelches between you as a result. Skin slaps against skin, breaths intermingle. His fingers tangle into your hair crudely – it hurts when he tugs at the roots even if you’re well aware that he doesn’t mean to.

He’s so big above you. So strong. So stupidly male. And he’s also gotten lost in the moment. For a second it makes you scared of him a little bit even if he’s the sweetest man you’ve ever met, a real proper marshmallow. And it doesn’t help that his cock is as big as the rest of him is; stretching you so deliciously, splitting you wide open, causing tears to prickle at the corners of your eyes even if the booze that’s coursing your veins is supposed to numb you out to a size like that.

“Yuuji, wa- fuck, wait…!” You cross your ankles at his waist in an attempt to slow him down, heels panically digging into his back dimples and toes curling. 

“N-no, I can’t, please… Don’t make me wait, please, please, please, c’mon,” he babbles, still not slowing down, not stopping. His eyes are half-closed and they show concern, but they’re also dark and foggy when he lifts his head just enough to look at you. “Just a lil’ more, yeah…? Yeah? Just a lil’... Ugh, keep still just a bit longer- I’m almost there. So… mmh… close.”

You try to fight against him, tugging on his hair and sinking your nails into his back, but all he does is endure it, not really caring much about your thrashing and turning. He’s got you caged underneath him, crying out his name, clawing raw red lines into his broad back. It’s all drunken breeding instinct and no brain as he uses your body like a toy, and the realization that you can do nothing but take it is terrifying as much as it is thrilling.

His pounding has turned borderline ruthless by now and in his urgency to cum, he’s pushed himself so deep inside you that you’re pretty sure he’s fucked his way straight into your goddamn womb. In his weak attempt to make you last until the end, he’s even started to messily rub irregular circles into your clit.

It makes a thin line of drool dribble down the corner of your mouth from how fucked out you’ve become in a mere fifteen minutes. The overstimulation is probably completely accidental, but it achieves the same result just the same. He outright forces the climax out of your body, and the second he feels you squeeze around him, abused pussy trying to milk him dry, he’s giving in, not resisting anymore, shooting his load inside you in an instant.

The groan he lets out is almost like a growl. He arches his back again, balls tightening, grip almost turning iron-like. You can feel the warmth of his cum as it fills you in steady waves of pleasure. 

You both stay still for a long while after that, trying to gather your senses, attempting to calm down your trembling. His cum is warm and sticky; tacky between your thighs. It starts to drip out of your hole by the time his cock softens enough to create more space. 

There’s just so much of it. A fuckload.

And he’s still breathing so hard. You both are.

“I’m so sorry… Fuck, I-” he rasps out. His mouth is so dry that he feels like he could chug an entire jug of water, but he pushes that need away for now in order to get a good look at you instead. “I just- I-”

Yuuji stops mid-sentence when he sees you push two of your fingers between your legs before bringing them up in front of your face again. He watches, eyelids heavy, as you spread them then, toying with the glimmery, cloudy white substance that’s gathered there until you gently push them inside your mouth, licking his release right off of your fingertips.

His jaw almost hits the floor. He’s so baffled by what he’s just seen that he barely registers the fact that his cock is trying to get hard again, throbbing against his thigh.

“What?” is all you say in response to the incredulous look that sits on his face now. Your voice is muffled from the way you keep your mouth stuffed full.

“I licked it so it’s mine.”

[safetypinxtales]

Santa baby | Azriel

summary: it's nearing solstice and you have an extensive list for your mate Santa.

words: 1.5k

warnings: fluff, a bit of seduction, Azriel is stupid in love, like absolutely whipped, reader sits in Azriel's lap, feminine reader (lipgloss, hair below shoulder-length), otherwise neutrally described reader, no use of y/n, it's an AU where everything is the same except Santa is a thing.

notes: well, it's been a while but it's Christmas and I have free time for once so why not write? I whipped this one up in like an hour whilst waiting for our guests to arrive today, and it has minimal editing, but it's something light and sweet for the holidays. Hope you enjoy and merry Christmas! 🤍

masterlist

The glass is cold in your hand as you waltz into the living room. The winter sun had already set on the quaint seaside cottage you shared with Azriel. He had surprised you with it after your mating ceremony last solstice, and as you took in the shadows dancing around on the walls, cast by dim candle light, a feeling of contentedness enveloped you. The amber liquid in the glass sloshed with each step you took, but never quite enough to spill over the rim. It was a practiced routine, bringing him a drink whenever you found your mate a little too stuck in his work.

His head lifted from the paperwork he had been going over as he sensed your presence entering the living room, the hand that had been carefully turning a leaf falling slack on the armrest.

His eyes dropped down to your hips, watching them sway with every step you took, gaze fixed as if in a trance.

You let out a low hum as you reached him, extending the glass. His eyes met yours as he put the paperwork aside and accepted your offering.

Slowly – gracefully and practiced – you slid into his lap, one arm snaking its way around his shoulder. The warmth of his hands on your waist spread all the way into your chest, making your heart beat just that little bit faster.

Grabbing his face, feeling the slight stubble of his cheek under your palm, you planted your lips on his. 

The kiss was soft and warm, and perfectly matched the feeling blooming in your chest has he murmured a low:

“Hello, my love.”

“Hello,” you hummed back and felt that slow tug in your chest that you had come to love so. 

You gave a loving tug back and felt Azriel shudder beneath you.

Letting you gaze flit over his face, you marveled at his features. 

The dark lashes framing those mesmerizing hazel eyes of his. The colour of the finest of honey, all swirling and golden. 

The constellations of freckles adorning his cheeks, like a map only you were privy to read.

His lips, currently smeared in your lipgloss and stretched into a dopey smile making him look just as lovesick as you felt inside.

“Hey, Az?” You broke the warm silence that had enveloped you.

“Yes, my love?” He murmured, his eyes flicking down to your lips briefly before finding their way back to yours.

You leaned in to give him another soft peck, only pulling away to rest your forehead against his.

“I have.. I’ve been thinking about something,” you whispered, feeling the breath from his curious yes? on your lips. “About what I want from Santa this year.”

He pulled back slightly at your words, eyebrows raised and that dopey smile still plastered on that pretty mouth of his. He knew as well as you that Santa meant Azriel himself.

“Oh, really? Please, do tell,” his curious hum sent you heart fluttering as you settled in further in his lap.

“Well, do you remember that dagger I liked so much when we visited summer? The gold one?” You purred and ran your fingers through his hair. His eyes fluttered as your nails lightly scratched his scalp.

“The one with the eye-sized ruby in the pommel?” You nodded. “My love, that blade is useless. You couldn’t even cut an apple with it, much less cause any real damage,” he scoffed, ”you’d be better off fighting someone with a cotton ball. That you could at least shove down their throat – hope they choke to death.”

His eyes gleamed at the gasp you let out. The soft swat you landed on his chest drawing out a quiet chuckle.

“I know it’s useless in combat, but it’s so pretty isn’t it? Besides, why would I need to fight when I have you to defend me?” You chirped with a flutter of lashes. 

You just managed to catch his eyes darkening before he pulled you into yet another kiss, this time firmer. Purposeful. 

Claiming.

When he pulled away his breath was heavier and his voice rougher as he swore, “I will always protect you, always defend you.”

“Even if I’m in the wrong?”

“No such thing.”

Your toes curled at his admission, and the hand that was tangled in his hair tightened its grip.

“Good answer,” you mused, and his thumbs swiped at your waist – up and down. 

“What else should Santa put on his list?”

You pretended to think for a moment, pursing your lips into a glossy pout, knowing just how crazy the act drove your mate.

And just as you could have predicted, his eyes dropped down to your mouth, his smile fading slightly, his eyelids growing heavier.

“Well you know that necklace that Feyre has? That she wore on our mating ceremony?” You asked.

He nodded in response, eyes still focused on your lips.

You let your cheeks pull into a broad smile, “well I saw that the jewellery shop by the Palace of Thread and Jewels has its twin in gold.”

“The diamond necklace you kept sighing about for weeks after the ceremony? The one that had me questioning if it was the mating bond that was making you so blue?” He questioned, his voice laced with disbelief.

“That’s the one,” you replied. Removing your hand from where it was nestled against his head, you moved to push your hair over your shoulder, exposing your décolletage.

”Wouldn’t it fit me so well?” You asked, letting your hands graze the bottom of your throat, following the curve down to the top of your chest, watching his eyes track the movement with a predatory focus.

Azriel’s throat bobbed, “It would.”

Your hand fell to his arm, giving the muscle hiding under his sweater a light squeeze. 

“Yeah, you really think so?” You gave him your best hopeful look, batting your eyelashes for added effect.

He simply nodded, too much of a lovestruck, mess of a male in your presence to form any actual words. 

“That’s good,” you hum, “now I only have one last thing on my wish list.”

Your mate didn’t verbally respond, but you took the squeeze of his hands on your hips as a sign to keep going.

“An apartment in the city.”

That seemed to bring Azriel back to life.

“An apartment? Is the cottage I got for us not enough?” He asked with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Well, no, I love the cottage – you know that. But sometimes it would be nice to have somewhere closer to go to after having spent the evening with the others, don’t you think?”

“It takes half a second to winnow from there to here,” he deadpanned, causing you to roll your eyes.

“But I think it would be nice to stay in the city sometimes. To be able to walk home, a stroll along the Sidra,” you gave him your sweetest, most innocent smile and added, “just you and me?”

You could see his resolve melting, and felt the largeness of his hand leave your waist in favour of gently stroking your thigh. 

“An apartment, huh?” His soft voice still had some reluctance hanging on to it, but you could tell he was warming up to the idea pretty quickly.

Your head bobbed up and down in confirmation, and an amused sigh left his lips.

“You must think mighty highly of yourself, dear, to think Santa would give you such special treatment,” he mused as he pulled you closer. 

“Well, I just have it on a hunch that Santa might know that my wonderful, loving mate, who – if I haven’t already mentioned – loves me so,” Azriel’s eyes crinkled at the corners as you continued, “works for the high lord.”

Amusement danced in his eyes, and a soft red glow started making its way up his cheeks.

“So maybe someone like that, like me. Like the mate of the Night court spymaster, deserves to be a little spoiled.” You leaned in to kiss his jaw, and stopped to whisper in his ear, “it sure would make her happy.”

He hummed in agreement, his thumb stroking across your thigh at a slow but steady pace.

“Besides,” you continued, leaning back to look him in the eyes, “I have been such a good girl this year.” 

Azriel’s administrations on you leg stopped, his large hand instead coming up to cup your face. 

He hummed lowly, eyes locked on your lips, eyebrows drawn together in a pensive look.

“You really have,” he murmured.

Again, he pulled you into a kiss, molding his lips to yours. You let yourself melt into him – your wonderful, loving spymaster – into the warmth radiating from his large body. Into the secure grip of his hands and the gentle softness of his lips. You let yourself melt into your mate, with no care in the world, besides kissing him back.

When you finally pulled away you leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “if Santa is very kind to me, I promise I will be just as good next year.”

“Yeah?” His voice was thick with emotion.

“Yes, maybe even better.” You promised, and leaned back to look at him. 

You cupped his jaw, the slight stubble adorning the skin scratching your hand in the most comforting way.

He shook his head slightly, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Not possible.”

Want to be added to my taglist?

tags: @missussimonriley @azrielshadows1nger @anuttellaa @tele86 @aria-chikage @lilah-asteria

(since I haven't written in a while, lmk if you want to be removed)

[ac1dmeow]

Can we pretty please have one of au powder where shes in love with us instead of ekko? 🥺 PLS

sí

notes: fluff, established relationship, wlw content, possibly ooc

‘ wrapped around your finger ’

powder x female reader

sometimes powder catches herself staring at you.

she would have been in the middle of meddling with one of her personal projects, eyes narrowed and nimble fingers straining to screw a pesky tiny nail, until the next thing she knows is she had suddenly turned to look at you sometime in the middle of working. she has no idea how long she had been staring for, watching you sitting beside her just a few feet away, but she jumps when your head lifts and your eyes land on hers.

looking a little panic-stricken, powder twists herself back around, readjusting her hair.

“how’s it comin’ along?” your voice sounds from beside her, making her release a breath and smile gently.

“just have some screws to tighten and light varnishing to apply. after that—should be pretty much complete.” powder finalizes looking down at her project with a proud smile, which makes yours widen. oh how adorable she could be without even trying.

you hum in acknowledgment and drag your stool to get closer to her. the only reason you had been sitting farther away from her in the first place was so she could have the room she needed to work on her things. but now she looks set to take a break, and you’ll steal any moment you can get your hands on to spend time with her.

after getting permission to touch it you pick up the object and turn it around in your hands, looking closely at all of the details and ridges. powder’s creations never fail to impress you, and it makes you admire her more after each and every one she shows you.

“as perfect as all of your other stuff turns out.” you sigh almost dreamily, placing it back down and looking at powder who’s already staring at you with a cautious expression. it softens a little and she shrugs carelessly.

“i wouldn’t use ‘perfect’ to describe my works. but i appreciate it anyhow.” powder says, avoiding your gaze and leaning her arm on the table. you’re brows immediately furrow.

“you should have more confidence in your work. you have a wonderful talent, powder.” you place your hand on her shoulder and lean closer, “show it off with pride.”

you finalize with a kiss to her freckled cheek.

powder’s cheeks heat up as she smiles down at you gratefully. she feels so incredibly lucky to have you in her life as a supportive figure, and you being her girlfriend at the same time just makes it 100 times better.

filled with an affection, powder takes your hand resting on your lap and laces your fingers together, silently raving at the way it sends happy jitters and butterflies in her stomach. her head rests atop yours when you lean it against her shoulder.

“and i mean it, lovely.” you add firmly, making powder chuckle softly.

“thank you. i appreciate it a lot. more than you probably know.”

you huff a laugh through your nose and lift your head to look up at her closely with a cheeky smile. with your free hand you poke her cheek playfully, “oh, you make it known~, don’t worry.” your joke manages to not go over powder’s head, causing her to blush and roll her eyes giggling.

“shut up! you joke about it now, but you’re not laughing once i actually get you wrapped around my finger.” the blue haired girl quips, leaning in close with a smirk and blue eyes filled with something mischievous. that makes your eyes widen—the overtly sexual innuendo was uncalled for coming from her.

your shoulders bump as you two tease each other back and fourth under your breaths, hushed giggles echoing around the large open space of powder’s private workshop; your bodies subconsciously having gotten closer with hands starting to get curious.

in a moment of silence, your eyes flutter down to powder’s lips. her own doing the same, both of you exchange a silent confirmation and slowly close the distance between you.

unknowingly to both of you, someone is approaching. the sound of footsteps halt and someone clears their throat some 15 feet away. yours and powder’s lips just barely graze when you both hear the intruder, causing you both to jump away with gasps. at the sight of the third person in the room you’re filled with immense annoyance, peeved at being disrupted.

“sorry to intrude, but, vander sent me to look for you. you’re 20 minutes late to your shift.” ekko’s eyes awkwardly shift around the room before focusing on powder, “you probably don’t wanna keep him waiting much longer…”

you frown. the girl is immediately shooting out of her seat and cursing at herself, knocking things over while scrambling to grab her stuff scattered around the area. you grimace and reach out to help her out.

“fuck, he’s gonna be so mad. i’ve never been late before!”

“we can give him and excuse.” ekko calmly suggests in hopes of calming powder down.

“tell ‘im you ate too much cheese and couldn’t leave the bathroom for an hour.” you smirk. ekko chuckles beside you against the railing, shaking his head.

powder only scoffs. “don’t make this a joke.” she grumbles. she stands up straight and tosses her bag over her shoulder, “we need to go now. please.”

she’s already halfway out the door.

the two of you walk down the busy street with your arm hooked around hers, the warm sunny weather making it feel as though someone lit a candle in your chest and made a lovely home there. ekko walks alongside you, rambling passionately about his concepts for an upcoming project of his own while you smile in acknowledgment and give your own comments.

you still deeply wish you could have more time of the day to spend with powder, alas she has a job. but so many hangout ideas are swirling in your brain and making you skip in excitement at the thoughts.

next thing you're going to do is sunbathe and go for a swim in the river; a perfect way to celebrate the oncoming summer season.

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

Nighty-Night!

Ellie Williams x Reader (Modern AU)

Summary: What sleeping and waking up next to Ellie would look like. (Fluff)

Warning: Mentions of sex like one time?

A/N: Enjoy, I wrote this in class! It’s short and rushed 🙁

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Soft breaths played in the background as you and your girlfriend huddled together into the sheets. It was early winter and late at night, specifically midnight. The weather was perfect. Blue light beeming in from the open window of your girlfriend’s window, it shed light to the dimly lit room. Being the only thing that was on was her mini lamp. Which provided little.

Ellie laid beside you, one leg inbetween yours as she nuzzled into your arms. Facing each other, you wrapped your arms around her and pulled the blanket to her shoulder. She looked like a baby, sleeping like it was her first time.

Your girlfriend had joined you a few minutes ago, why? Because she needed to finish one last round of her game. She was never one for sleeping early, she had rounds to finish. After a stressful match, she quickly turned off her console and came to nestle up beside you— even though she was practically laid ontop of you.

With her body going completely still and relaxed in your arms, she laid happily. Content with having you with her, playing with her hair and occasionally pecking her freckled face. Ellie loved these moments, when you both knew you loved and cared for each other without needing to utter a word. It was sweet.

Your girlfriend was on the verge of sleep, holding onto a thread— more so you— to keep herself awake. She needed to feel you, to not miss another second without you. Her arms tightened around you, causing you to shift closer ‘til the two of you were fully flushed against each other. Ellie’s warm forehead rested on your shoulder as you brushed through her hair. The woody scent of her shampoo fluttered into your nose and you graciously took it all in.

Slowly but surely, Ellie had given up on staying awake. And you couldn’t keep yourself from spoiling her adorable little face with a few extra kisses here and there. On her nose, cheek, forehead, and lips. On the last one, she reciprocated, kissing you back with the little energy she had. A small smile then appeared on her lips before she gave you one last peck.

You’d always had a thing for the way she showed affection, showed that she cared. Even though most of the times she was a sassy little brat, Ellie had these moments where she’d completely melt into you. Showing you her vulnerable and loving side.

“Nighty-night, Babe..” Breaking the silence, she whispered into you with softness in her tone and raspiness in her voice. “Goodnight..” And there it was, that completely relaxed and peaceful look on her, usually tense, face. (Even tenser when she was playing on the console.)

The birds outside chirped with the rising sun. That was you and Ellie’s natural alarm clock. Groggily opening your heavy eyelids, you meet the sight of Ellie asleep and ontop of you. She looked adorable and you couldn’t help but squeeze her squishy cheeks. You could lay there and watch her sleep forever and ever, and ever.

“Morning, sleepyhead..” You whispered out, fingers tangled into your girlfriend’s hair as you tried your best to brush our her disheveled tangles. Knowing Ellie, even facing your back towards her could get you in trouble. Whining would fill the room and she’d complain your ears off. She was needy as a ‘fucker in the mornings, needing to be in your bubble, in your personal space— which she claimed shouldn’t exist in the relationship.

After a few minutes of contently watching your girlfriend, she began to stirr and grumbled to herself. Green eyes landed on your face, admiring you for a second too long before she shifted to nuzzle into your neck. “Hey..” The raspiness in her voice was endearingly attractive, but you kept your focus on her and watched as she pulled the blanket over her exposed shoulder.

“How’d ya’ sleep?” Was the first question you asked her, “Awsome sause, you?..” She shot back, mainly in affection and confirmation.

The only reason Ellie had been sleeping early was because of you. Having someone to depend on was a first for your girlfriend, so letting you wash the stress off her body was appreciated. So much. And ever since you’d moved in with her, she’d forgotten about her console. Rarely on it, she claimed she’d rather annoy you. “What’s that?” She’d ask, peaking from behind you to see what you were cooking up for her. Even reading had become difficult— “So, I’m guessing that book’s more important than your baby?” She’d frown, feigning loneliness so you’d baby her. Speaking of babying, her favourite nickname that you’d given her was that. Baby.

Ellie knew she could be the clingiest person on earth whenever she wanted to be, laying ontop of you and cutting off circulation from your arms. You found it painfully adorable. “Just as awesome as you, Babe..” That was ninety-nine point ninty-nine percent false.

“Mm-hm.. this bed isn’t the best for two people. Surprised you slept good..” She was right, the mattress was definitely loved. A little too much.— Having sex on it multiple times probably wasn’t the best go. “Maybe you need a new one.” You murmured, playing with Ellie’s auburn locks. She let out a soft chuckle and shifted closer. “I’ll look online, pretty..”

Oh, and she definitely would. When it came to you, she didn’t fuck around. As they say, “If she wanted to, she would” Damn right. Ellie gave you everything you could ever want, even though it wasn’t anything too much. Logically, both of you had no business buying expensive watches and purses, especially as young adults. That didn’t stop her from buying you flowers almost every week from her drive home from work. She’d buy you the world if she could.

With a soft huff she raised her head, exposing her groggy expression and messed-up hair. You didn’t tease her, just stared deeply into her eyes, just as she was you. No words were needed in the moment, just comforting silence and warmth. Ellie reached out to gently run her knuckles over your cheeks and stopped by your ear, then her thumb ran down the side of your neck and stopped by your collarbone. Leaving your skin to tingle and your eyes to flutter.

Being stubborn and needy, Ellie had her ways of being affectionate and gentle. Especially in the morning, it was like she had this switch. One moment she was whining and desperately trying to keep you in bed, then, the next moment, she was quietly admiring you. Maybe that was a less.. obnoxious way of her keeping you next to her. It worked everytime, so you really couldn’t complain.

I LITERALLY CANNOT STOP WRITING ANOUT ELLIE, LIKE ITS SO BAD ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS HER!!?!??!? AND NOW IM GOING ON PINTEREST TO FIND WAYS TO BETTER MY FANFICS!!!!! Anyways someone save me from this curse.

[plumeria1]

A morning with Vi

Note : English is not my language. I can't believe Night routine with Jinx has passed 100 likes thank you so much 🥹

Pairing : Vi x fem reader

Content : Fluff

Warning : None

Summary : Vi and You have a morning talk.

Modern!au Vander and the others are alive (Vi was in jail for another reason, honestly I didn't think of anything)

The day Vi got out of prison, her sister Powder came to see her, and Vi was delighted to see her brilliant little sister in perfect health. She had grown so much. Vi was proud, soon Powder would be heading to university to pursue an engineering program.

Vi held Powder in her arms for a long moment, but when she stepped back, she saw you. She was so surprised, you, her best friend since childhood, were there. You had confessed your feelings to each other one month before her arrest, you had promised to wait for her and you kept your promise.

That night, she didn't leave your side for a second; it was a long moment full of tenderness, your hands exploring each other's bodies all night long.

You spent a long time admiring her tattoos, running your hand over them and and kissing her freckles.

You didn't let go of each other, spending the whole night cuddling and talking about everything and nothing. She had told you everything that had happened in prison.

Since that day, she had moved into the small apartment you shared with Powder, and you never left each other's side.

1 year later :

After another passionate night, you had once again pushed the blanket to the foot of the bed. You lay in Vi's arms, her head resting on your chest as she always did, one of her legs was draped between yours and her fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm.

Vi lifted her head from your shoulder and looked at you with a tender smile. You look at her curiously.

-Why are you smiling ?

-Because I realized something.

-Oh really? And what is it ?

-Well, every time we make love, you always push the blanket to the foot of the bed.

You laughed, knowing it was true.

-It's because of you, you're too warm. And you do things like that too.

-Really?

-Yes, you always put your head on my chest and stay there for some minutes without saying a word. I want to know why.

Vi sighed, closing her eyes, as if debating wether to answer.

-It reassures me. When I was in prison I was alone, so when I rest my head on you I listen to your heartbeat. It reminds me that you are here and it makes me feel better.

You placed your hand on her head, gently running your fingers through her hair.

-I thought you were going to say something silly, but actually, it's a very romantic way to say "I love you."

-I also do it because your breasts are soft and comfortable.

Your mouth fell open in mock outrage before both of you burst into laughter. Vi loved that sound more than anything.

-You know, when we make love, you do something that I love.

-Mm?

-It's when you scratch my back with your nails, it stings a bit but it means you like what I'm doing so it worth it.

-How could I not like it when you do that with your mouth?

-What do you mean by that ? She pretended not to understand.

-You know, when you-

A knock at the bedroom door cut you off. You sighed, starting to get up but Vi held you back.

-Don't go, let her knock.

From the outside of the door, Powder voice called out.

-Vi, open up, there's a package for you. You need to sign.

Vi groaned dramatically, reaching for her clothes scattered on the floor. She opened the door and turn you back with a little smile.

-Go back to sleep, I'll be right back.

You winked at her with a playful smile.

-I'll keep your spot warm.

She closes the door and you get back into bed, taking her place, and now, deprived of your girlfriend's warmth, you pull the warm blanket over yourself. As you fall asleep, you think about how lucky you were to have her in your life.

Thank for your reading 😉 I hope you liked it

[elliescumslvt]

Very Good - Ellie Williams

College AU Ellie Williams x AFAB (assigned female at birth) reader. There is no use of Y/N, or a chosen name for the reader. 3.6k words

Content includes: fingering (reader receiving), oral sex/cunnilingus (reader receiving), kissing, cursing, pet names (babe, baby, lover, love, ex), sub!reader + dom!ellie, and overall vivid descriptions of sexual activity.

The moon shone brightly in contrast to the inky sky. The light passed through the window, and lit the room a sparkly gray. I bounced my knee against the wooden desk as I rested my head against the cool surface. My eyes drooped with exhaustion as a result of my long study session. 

A loud knocking suddenly shocked me, causing my head to fly up. I begrudgingly stood up, and walked over to the door. Upon opening it, my face deepens to a blood red. 

“I need a distraction.” Ellie states, pushing past me into my dorm. She flings herself onto my bed, and pushes on her elbows to sit up. “Are you busy?”

Her words echo in my head as I bite down on my lip. Truthfully, I was behind in a few of my classes. I desperately needed to study. However, her sweet honey tone and wide begging eyes tempted me. “I’m not sure Els, I kinda need to work on more of my assignments-” Her groan cuts off my words. Brown soft strands stuck up in random directions atop her head, and her eyes now drooped with similar exhaustion to mine. My lip remains between my teeth as I turn my head away from the scene. If I had any hope of going back to studying, I could not look anywhere near Ellie. 

“But.. I need you.” Ellie begged further, her words almost coming across whiny now. Her brows furrowed together, and her eyes were no longer pleading. With lids half open and a pouty lip, Ellie made me powerless. My pulse hammered against my temples, and a rush of blood traveled to my face. I curse internally, knowing that I could not possibly say no. 

“Need me for what?” I try to play dumb, hoping that there was still some way I could get out of this. But as my eyes traveled over her outfit, I was not sure if that would even be humane of me to do. She wore a thin black shirt, decalled with a band's name I did not know. The fabric clung to her upper arms, only further displaying her muscles. Her collarbone peeked out the stretched collar, and begged to be marked with sin. Cold air blows out my burning throat as I pathetically attempt to calm myself.

Ellie’s face changes into a smirk, and it's obvious she can read my thoughts. “Come here babe, let me touch you.” Her demanding tone forces my feet to drag me over, and all of a sudden I was crawling on the bed towards her. Sage green eyes met mine in an instant, and her arms opened to invite me in. My skin trembled as I finally reached her. Hands flew to my waist, dragging me further into my company's lap. I raise my arms with hesitance, and wrap them around her neck. 

As Ellie reads my nervous expression, a brow raises inquiry. “Why are you so tense? It's just us, love.” I feel as she drags a hand slowly over my shirt before pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. We are so close that I can feel her breath against my face, and it only makes me blush more. Her hand falls back to meet the other at my waist as she whispers, “You’re so pretty when you’re flustered.” 

My heart flies into my throat, preventing me from responding. All I can manage to do is move a slight bit forward towards her. Her lips enticed me, all pink and soft. Ellie’s freckles dotted her skin like stars, only making her all the more beautiful. “I can’t help it.” I mumble, though I am barely aware that I even spoke. My thoughts were plagued with images of her lips on mine, and all over my body. 

“I know.” She chuckles, her chest rising and falling quickly with her laughter. My cheeks impossibly got darker, now a deep crimson red. Ellie notices this right away, as she knows my own body better than myself. A calloused hand moves again from off my waist, and now slides under my shirt. It moves dangerously slow, causing goosebumps to raise all over my touched skin. Her fingers glide over my stomach, the motion going straight to my core. 

“Ellie.” I breathe out, my breath wet and hot. Her existing smirk only widens, and her head tilts.

“And I thought I was the one needing you. Hm?” She teases, though her tone is warm and sultry. Her eyes bore into mine, causing a shiver to pass over my spine. My spread thighs tremble on top of hers. The warmth passing between us was making my head even fuzzier, coherent sentences becoming nonexistent. As if Ellie sensed this, she moved her lips daringly closer to mine. Just as I think she’s going to lovingly close the gap between us, she bites down on my lower lip. A whine escapes me as she does so, only fueling her further. I see sparkles shine in her pupils, her lust obvious. Her teeth now graze over the sensitive skin, pulling yet another whimper from me. Desperate for more I push my lips onto hers, the motion hurried and sloppy. I wasn’t too sure of what I was doing, since I could barely think at all. It was really pathetic how quickly Ellie could get me riled up. 

Ellie reciprocated the kiss almost immediately. Her hand resting on my stomach began to climb up my body, the heat arousing me. Rough fingers gripped at the nape of my neck, holding me still as the kiss deepened. She moved with skill, her lips perfectly mashing with mine. The embrace was slow yet sensual. Low rumbles came from her throat as her brows narrowed together in focus. My mind and hers alike were solely focused on each other. 

Struggling, Ellie ripped her lips off mine. The skin was wet and puffy, her face similar in color. Her lip quivered as if it missed mine, and she bit down aggressively on it. “Mm need you now, babe.” Her voice was deep and scratchy, sounding as if her throat dried from the loss of my body. 

I nodded enthusiastically in response, that being all I could muster. In an instant, Ellie moved to lift me off her lap, and pushed me to lay down. The bed was warming up as our bodies were, the fabric temperature only dulling my mind more. She climbed over me, and moved to straddle my waist. Her thighs melted around my sharp hip bones. They were only shielded with thin shorts, and my hands flew to grip the fabric. Her face frantically came back to mine, our lips colliding again. The kiss started fast and needy, but soon changed into something more slow and brain numbing. I tug on her shorts desperately, trying to ground my souring head. One of Ellie’s hands grasped harshly on my hip, her fingernails imprinting crescents into my skin. A pleading moan leaves me at the sinful thought of her grip creating marks. Her other hand was wrapped around my neck, not preventing me from breathing but increasing my blood flow. I took deep sharp inhales as Ellie squeezed harder. She took this opportunity to slip her tongue into my mouth. Our tongues wrapped around one another, the movement very familiar. 

“What do you need from me?” I croak out. My voice sounded whiny, and my eyes were wide and pleading. Our lips brush against each other as I speak. Our eye contact is intense, and I feel myself shrinking beneath her. 

Ellie chuckles as her hands explore my body, worshiping all of my curves. “I need to..” she pauses to lift her body off mine and blows out an exasperated breath, “Please let me taste you- you’ve been busy all week- I need it.” She takes awkward pauses as she speaks, her tone begging. Her voice sounded as if she hadn’t drunk in years, and I was the only thing which could clench her thirst. Suddenly, her fingers loop around the crown of my pants and tug on them. 

I nod frantically, unable to speak. Her face spreads into a lopsided grin, and she swiftly moves down my body. In one rough push, she separates my thighs. I whimper at the stretch, and momentarily throw my head back onto the bed in anticipation. Ellie stares intently between my thighs, and her mouth almost begins to salivate. My pants slide down over my thighs as Ellie brings them down, and the cool air hits my burning flesh. She enthusiastically pulls them from off my ankles, and tosses them somewhere on the floor. As the soft fabric hits the floor with a thump, my brain runs wild with thoughts. It was not foreign for Ellie to want to please me like this, but this time she seemed so much hungrier. 

Her starved eyes trace my thighs, her lips following in pursuit. Soft kisses press against my skin as she explores. Every freckle, every scar, and every stretch mark were being given attention. Slowly, her face moves closer and closer to where I want her most. Her expression changes into something sinister as she blows hot breath onto my panties. My neck curves backwards as I once again toss my head back. As I try to calm my rapidly moving chest, I stare at the ceiling above. However, I can distinctively imagine the smirk Ellie undoubtedly wore. 

Her hands meet with my thong, and she yanks it down my thighs. I use my legs to kick the fabric the rest of the way off, and Ellie chuckles with amusement. “Eager, are you?” Her laugh echoes inside my brain, rattling around chaotically. Her eyes trace over my features, moving tauntingly too slow down my body. They snapped to mine after a moment, and her pupils were blown. Her normal green eyes were now just a tiny sliver of iris around her enlarged pupil. Lost in a trance with her adoring glare, I fail to realize when her mouth moves down to my clit. In one long stripe, her tongue slides from my clit, down through my slit, and to my hole. The leathery muscle traces along the rim, and a low groan leaves Ellie’s lips.

“I always love when you’re on my tongue.” She confesses. This draws a small whimper from me, my eyes squeezed shut in desperation. I helplessly grind my hips downwards in a sad attempt to make contact with her tongue again. Ellie only laughs in response and the warm damp air hits my heat. “Have some patience please, Babe. I want to take my time with you. I’ve missed this.” Her needy tone adds to my pooling wetness. 

“O- Ok.” I stutter, my brain malfunctioning. I try to calm my hips, but they shake subconsciously. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I attempt to clear my fogging mind, though Ellie practically fought against my efforts. Her tongue returned feverishly, and lapped at my cavern. My hands move frantically as my body looks for something to ground myself with. They quickly find Ellie’s hair, and tug on the strands. Her auburn hair was half pulled back, though some pieces fell to frame her face. The hair ended at her shoulders with a blunt cut. Her eyebrows matched the rest, now wrinkled together as her face was buried between my legs. Calloused hands grip onto my thighs, the plush skin melting between her fingers.  

My fingers tighten around her hair as her mouth travels higher. She licked my clit repeatedly, her effort never wavering. I feel as my thighs try to pull back together, caging her head. One of her hands on my thigh harshly spread it open to give her more access. A small gasp passes past my lips as Ellie’s other hand moves to my core. One long finger circles around the rim, almost as if she was teasing me. I whimper as a plea, however she roughly pulls away tongue and all. 

“I said be patient.” Ellie demands with a cold scowl. Her palms pushed down on my hips, preventing me from obtaining any self inflicted pleasure. My body writhes from loss of stimulation, and a groan deep from my throat escapes. Ellie’s expression remains unmoving, and she does not move. My breathing increases in speed, as I begin to panic. My senses were abruptly met with absence, and the sensation was uncomfortable. 

As if Ellie sensed this uncomfort, her hands begin to gently caress my thighs, Her expression morphs into a more caring one as she keeps moving to soothe me. A warm tingle passes over my spine, effectively calming my frantic stature. “Shh everything is okay. I’ll take care of you, alright Babe?” Her loving words smooth the goosebumps on my thighs, and the muscles stop spasming. Ellie’s lips stretch into a wide smile as she sees my calm demeanor. She leans down to lay a kiss on my thigh, and then rests her head on the plump skin. Her eyelashes tickle my skin, causing me to quietly giggle. If even possible her smile brightens more, lighting up the entire dorm. The setting sun shines warm yellow rays through the windows. However, the sun could never brighten my world as well as Ellie’s smile could. 

“I love you, remember? I just want you to feel as much pleasure as possible.” She mumbles into my thigh. Her eyes looked up at my face, and I could clearly see her pupils searching sporadically to understand how I was feeling. The freckles which scattered her skin stood out against the smooth skin of my thigh, only making her appear more ethereal. 

I take a deep inhale, fully stretching my lungs. The air flows from my lips as I exhale, and ruffles Ellie’s hair. “I know.” I breathe out, my lungs now exhausted. Ellie quickly sits her body up, and kisses my lips. It is short and sweet, a strong contrast to earlier. She ended the kiss as soon as she started to feel it increase with intensity. Her lips stretch to smile as she lowers her head back down towards my center. 

I gasp out as one of her fingers press against my entrance. She moves carefully as she inserts a digit, allowing my body to stretch with the intrusion. My walls fluttered around the warm perpetrator. I look down to see Ellies’ eyes wide open. Her pupils swelled as she realized just how wet I was. Already a single finger was sliding easily, her knuckles hitting my sensitive folds. 

Ellie understood my body far past what I could understand, so she knew I was ready. Another digit presses against my somewhat widened cavern. It slides in next to the other finger, my wet slick allowing the process to be painless. I groaned out into the air as my back arched, and my knees rose. My head falls back onto the bed, and pushes up my neck and shoulders. Ellie saw this and began to slowly scissor her fingers. The digits would push apart to stretch my walls, before meeting back together. She repeats this process for just too long, and I begin to whimper. Her smile transforms into a smirk, and she finally begins to finger my arching core effectively. The fingers slide in and out with a steady speed, and they curl to rub the spongy area of the flesh. I cry out and frantically move my hands to grip Ellies’ hair again for stability. My hips rock rhythmically with hers, but this time she allows such. As her fingers dig deeper, the curling presses against my sweet spot harsher. My breathing increases as the pleasure invades all my sensations. 

Without warning, Ellies’ tongue returns to my clit. The muscle circles the pulsing mound feverishly, successfully dragging a loud whine out of my throat. My hand grips on the tiny pony tail of her half-up-half-down even harsher. However, the girl between my legs seems to give no care. If anything this devilish pain fueled her actions even further. The fingers inside me slow down, but now slide deeper into my core. Her digits still for a moment, then the tips start to swipe over my sweet sponge repeatedly. My hips uncontrollably seize away, but Ellie is quick to slam them back down. The hand not being used to plow me grabs my ass, and fondles the skin. I clamp down on my lip in hopes to muffle my pathetic whimpers. However my efforts are useless as the sound of wet sliding fills the room. As I try to center my focus, my teeth grind on the fragile feature. 

I release my lip as Ellie unexpectedly drags her tongue through my folds. She laps up the arousal and groans. One thing I could never be insecure about is Ellie eating me out. She constantly ensures me that she finds pleasure and enjoyment in the action, possibly even more than I did. It was not uncommon for my lover to barge into my dorm to demand intimacy.

My mouth falls open and desperately brings air to my lungs. The organs cause my chest to rise and fall just as frantically as they were. Ellie undoubtedly notices, and takes it as a sign to pleasure me more intensely. Her tongue muscle works hard to slide up and down my slick, and occasionally spin around my clit. My walls shake deliciously with every pressured stroke. The bedding now envelops me in an overwhelming warmth, the heat from our bodies changing the temperature. Yet in contrast my skin erupts in goosebumps. Every nerve tingles in a mind numbing pleasure. My core muscles contract, which pressurizes the growing pit in my stomach. Ellie tilts her eyes up from my lust to watch my stomach spasm with a wicked grin.

Her tongue pressed flat against my clit for a moment to say; “Come on Baby, make a mess on my fingers.” Her sensual words fly straight to my sex, causing the attentive flesh to pulse more rapidly. Ellies’ tongue teasingly flicks my clit, some drops of saliva and arouse propelling into the damp air. The fingers inside me move with the intent to drag an orgasm from me. The tips caress my skin quicker. This sensation becomes entirely overwhelming, along with the attention being given to my clit. A pressure grows substantially within my stomach, and threatens to explode. Ellies’ eyes flutter close and my skin vibrates as she moans against it. Her brows are furrowed in concentration as she begins to drag me over the edge.

The throbbing, tingling pressure in my arousal intensifies as my core snaps. A full body sensation travels over me, blocking my system from experiencing any other feeling. My back arches higher, and my thighs clash together. Ellies’ auburn locks get tousled as her head is crushed between my thighs. My clit feels electrified, and my nipples harden. My breasts stretch with my back, which makes my buds buzz with static delight. I taste Ellies’ spit from when her tongue was in my mouth instead of torturing my clit. My sight is blinded as my eyes squeeze shut. My lovers’ hair is yanked once more, this time harsher than the others. 

Ellies’ eyes remain close, and sweet enticing moans leave her soft plush lips. She drinks the lust spilling from my cavern with joy. Her facial muscles release their tension and relax as her tongue works to not miss a single drop of my orgasm. 

I moan in ecstasy. She had made me cum countless times, however this time infected my senses stronger than any other. My thighs violently quiver around Ellies’ head, though she makes no effort to escape. Her tongue still moves to happily swallow my arousal. The reddened flesh now hums with a simmering sting. I attempt to pull her away by tugging on her locks more aggressively, but she doesn’t move. My nerves scream with overstimulation and loud guttural groans bounce about the dorm. I release a hand from her hair, and it shakes as I move it towards her shoulder. I tap the freckled skin twice, and Ellie immediately pulls her face away from my heat. Her chin drips with evidence of my orgasm, and her shiny lips reflect the light of a lamp in the room. My eyes snap to hers and her love for me is obvious. Her pupils consumed the iris, and the skin around them was softened and relaxed. I watch her lashes brush against her lids as she stares up at my lustful face. I can feel the heat in my face, primarily in my cheeks. 

Her hands leave their current positions on my body, and are placed down on my thighs. The skin twitches occasionally, but the nerves have mostly calmed down. Her thumbs stroke atop some of my stretch marks with a soft kindness. “How was I?” She inquires, and the usual cockiness in her tone is absent. Her eyes traveled over my face, trying to understand how I was feeling before I was able to say. 

My exhausted body is limp on the bed. I can just see Ellie in my sight, as my head was barely propped up by the disheveled comforter. The hand still in her hair slowly slides down her neck and to her hand. I interlock our fingers lazily, my grip loose and relaxed. “Very good.” I emphasize while my expression morphs into a warm smile. 

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | five

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: you and your professor enjoy a day in new york. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, oral [m receiving], a smidge of cock worship, spoilers for antony and cleopatra by shakespeare lol, flirting, these fuckos kinda go on a date, prof joel is man of the arts idgaf, a tlou2 easter egg, oral [f receiving] and then oral [f receiving] again, sex acts in public, jealousy, sexting/nudes, unprotected piv sex, exhibitionism, dirty talk, light choking, overstimulation [f], pain kink, kinda dom!joel, describing men as pretty and beautiful because I LIKE IT, soft!joel. word count: 8.3k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: so this whole thing is almost entirely sucking fucking and flirting, and i hope you enjoy it before we encounter angst. all credit to willy shakes for the passage from A&C that joel reads in the opening scene. thanks king for inspiring the title of this series lol xo this is part five of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four.

Sunday.

The sound of paper rustling wakes you. Muted scrapes of page shifting against page.

Through your lashes you can see a thin reed of sun streaming in the window, flaring across the end of the bed to warm your skin.  And there’s a dull ache between your legs; a rhythmic throb that dances and twists through your core, through the muscles in the inside of your thighs. The type of pain that is warm – soft in its caress, like the trail of a lover’s fingertips down your spine. A sort of remembrance, or celebration. And you welcome it eagerly; delight in the sharp reminder of how it felt to welcome his body inside yours again. The hot sting of every third second, the meticulous pulse and ache of flesh that you hope stays with you for days.

Another page turns.

 You tilt your head to the side, eyes open a mere crack, and smile at the secrecy of it. At the private sincerity of this man who lies awake, sporting nothing but the thin veil of a sheet, gaze fierce and focused on an endless stream of text that raps his attention. It’s a type of heaven for him, you realise. This resting place, as calm and tranquil it is. The only weight that bears down is in the place where his wrist bends, hand coiled around the spine of a book, fingers poised, flicking impatiently against the corner of a page, begging to turn it, to see more.

You take in every ripple of muscle, every dip and curve and freckle and scar. The jut of his elbow. The hard line of his jaw. Watch pink lips part and purr as he whispers the words on the page to himself, and think about how perfect that mouth felt between your thighs.

His fingers pinch the corner of a page, pressing it down into a dog ear before he moves onto the next. You wonder what piqued his interest, what collection of words made him want to mark it, to leave a trail for himself to come back one day and remember.

You break the silence finally. “What are you reading?”

Joel flinches, glasses jolting to the tip of his nose.

“You’re awake.”

“I am,” you hum. When he stares at you for a moment you just smile, snaking a hand out from the sheet to tap the page of his book. “Tell me.” 

“Shakespeare,” he murmurs, a faint blotch of red rising at the base of his neck. You want to kiss that blush—taste it. Want to know if his skin smells like you. “Antony and Cleopatra.”

“I love that one,” you yawn. “Where are you up to?”

 “Act five,” he says. “Cleopatra’s big scene.”

“Will you read it to me?” you smirk.

There’s an upward shift of an eyebrow. The spark of a curious glint in his eye. 

“Really?” he drawls, unimpressed.

“Please?” your smile softens into something kind, something honest.

With a sharp sigh, and a quick adjustment of his glasses, Joel begins to read.

“Give me my robe, put on my crown,” he begins slowly, as if unsure. “I have immortal longings in me: now no more. The juice of Egypt’s grape shall moist his lip: yare, yare, good Iras; quick.”

His voice is a low vibration, a honeyed sound that drifts through the air and has goosebumps raising across your skin. You watch his mouth shape the words, enamoured. Savouring every glimpse of his teeth, every slip of his tongue between them.

“Methinks I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself to praise my noble act. I hear some mock the luck of Caesar, which the gods give men to excuse their after wrath. Husband, I come. Now to that name my courage prove my title.”

His hair is a mess. A shock of greying curls that have flattened against his scalp after a night of being pressed into his pillow, threatening to spring up again. That dull pain flares in your core again and you rub your thighs together in an attempt to quell the ache. But something stirs there—low, prowling just behind the pain. Something wet and wild that whispers his name. 

“I am fire and air,” Joel continues obliviously, licking his thumb to turn the page with ease. “My other elements I give to baser life. So; have you done?”

Slowly, listening—hanging—you shift against the mattress. Allow the sheet to fall down to your stomach, exposing your breasts to the morning air. Your nipples stiffen, chest tightening as he glances at them from the corner of his eye. He pauses, mouth ajar. Swallows. Brown eyes return to the page, and he continues to read.

“Come then, and take the last warmth from my lips.”

Your hand drifts across the mattress, hidden from sight as it traverses the soft plains of the sheets, the blankets, and then the skin of his thigh. Bare, but smattered with soft hairs that tickle your palm and fingertips. Goosebumps tear across his skin and his breathing hitches; the faintest cracks in his calm façade. You surpass where you can see him hardening, fingers floating up his side to rest against his stomach. Gently, you feel across the soft slopes and curves of his tummy. Glide your finger over the dip of his belly button and smile when he clears his throat, legs shifting in a restless dance. And then your hand shifts down. Past his happy trail, past the dark curls at his base, to wrap your fingers softly around his length.  

“Farewell, kind Charmian,” Joel’s voice deepens. “Iras, long farewell.”

You lower yourself on the bed, dragging the sheets with you until they rest wayward and wrinkled around his knees. Your cheek nuzzles against his thigh as you stroke him, humming in delight as his cock stiffens in your palm.

Joel sighs. “You don’t have to—”

“Keep going,” you hush, glancing up. He watches you over the top of his glasses, gaze darkening. There’s still sleep in the corners of his eyes, and it’s so soft, so domestic, it almost hurts. You look down, simpering as you admire the sight of his cock, now fully hard and leaking in your grasp.

The head is swollen, a flushed shade so reminiscent to that of his lips that you want to kiss him. But his skin is warm and smooth, like silk as you nuzzle his length against your face. Feel his wetness streak across your skin, over the closed line of your lips, the apple of your cheek. “Joel,” you urge him quietly when he still doesn’t speak.

“Have I the aspic in my lips?” His voice is hoarse when he continues; wanton, rough with sleep and desire. “Dost fall?”

You lathe soft kisses against the tip, along the vein that pulses along the side of his shaft, against the tight swell of his balls, taking your time with him. You giggle when he sucks in a sharp inhale, the muscles in his thighs tightening beneath your cheek.

“Such a pretty cock,” you whisper, swiping your fingers over his weeping head.

“Yeah?” he exhales and drops the book against his stomach, fingers reaching to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Gonna show me how much you like it?”

“Mhm,” you bat your eyelashes up at him.

Joel raises the book again, slowly, eyes unfocused and glassy but still watching—still devouring—the way your lips purse around his tip. His stomach tightens when your tongue leaves soft kitten licks against the slit, lapping at the salty precome that rests there.

“If thou and nature,” he murmurs. “Can so gently part.”

And it’s almost painful, the way he sounds. Exhalations of tragic Shakespeare mixed with soft gasps, with curses loosed beneath his breath. The occasional revered whisper of your name, spurring you on.

His free hand settles at the back of your head, thick fingers curling in your hair as your lips part to take him deeper inside your mouth. “Fuck,” he groans, hips shifting against the mattress. “That’s it, baby, god you’re good at that.”

You hum around the weight of him, stomach warming at the praise. Swirl your tongue generously around his girth, lathing saliva over his skin until it’s dripping down to his balls. You cup them gently in your palm, massage him as your lips drag to rest around his tip again, paying close attention to the way he gasps and sighs when the point of your tongue dances along the ridge at the underside of his head.

“Sensitive there?” you ask quietly, eyes flitting up to look at his face. His cheeks are flushed, eyebrows furrowed as he nods.

“S’good,” he confirms, fingers tightening in your hair as you rub that spot again. A fresh bead of precome oozes from his slit and you smile, fingers curling around his length to tap his tip against the flat of your tongue. “Jesus,” he mutters, eyelids fluttering. “Yeah, good girl.”

You shift down on him eagerly, letting the heavy weight of him slip against your tongue, inside the warmth of your mouth, until he’s pressing against the back of your throat and you can hear him moaning.

“Got the prettiest fuckin’ mouth, baby,” Joel whispers. “S’like a fuckin’ dream, seeing those lips on my cock again.”

You whimper and swallow around him. A tear squeezes out of the corner of your eye, trailing a shiny path down to your chin. In steady, measured movements, your head bobs up and down on his length, guided by the gentle press of his hand.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Take it all, baby, yea—yes.”

You relax your throat and take him deep enough to feel your nose brush against the rough hairs at his base.

“The stroke of death is as a lover’s pinch,” he reads, the cadence of his words stilted and breathy. “Which hurts, and is desired.”

Suddenly, his hips jut upward and you gag, throat constricting around him until your eyes are wet and blurry. He tugs gently on your hair, pulling you backward until you part from him with a splutter, messy strings of saliva dangling between your swollen mouth and his cock.

“God damn,” he swipes a finger across your lower lip. “Doin’ so good, sweetheart. So so good."

You think your eyes water more at that. Sweetheart.

“I want it,” you slur, lids heavy as you make eye contact with him.

“What do you want?” he pushes, cupping your jaw in his large palm. “Tell me.”

“Want you to come in my mouth,” your face warms and you lick your lips, fingers stroking him slowly. “Want all of it.” Everything.

“Okay,” Joel soothes, and then his hand drops from your hair so he can grip himself. Gently, he glides the tip along your bottom lip, trailing his salt across the skin of your chin, your cheeks, your nose, before finally pressing the head back against your tongue. “Take it, come on. It’s yours.” 

He presses between your lips, jaw tensing, and his eyes drift back to the book as you begin to move.

“Dost thou lie still?” he reads. “If thus thou vanishes, thou—Christ—thou tell’st the world.”

Your lips are tight around him, mouth sucking and moving in tandem with the strokes of your fingers, wrapped loosely around his base. Carefully, you shift to straddle his shins, forearms resting heavily against his thighs as you bring him to the brink of his orgasm. Yours.

“Fuck,” you hear him spit, and then he’s arching forward, the splay of his palm moving down the length of your spine until his fingers slip into the crevice between your ass cheeks. Gripping and squeezing the flesh there until you’re moaning too, the vibrations of your voice muddling with the wet sounds of your mouth against his cock. 

It doesn’t take much longer for coherent thought to evade him, Antony and Cleopatra flung to the wayside of the bed as his broad hands cradle your head, the tip of his cock nudging the back of your throat with every thrust. Your entire body is hot, slick with sweat, the musky scent of Joel filling your nostrils with every rushed inhale. The sounds he’s making turn rougher, deeper; raspy grunts and exhales that are almost animalistic in their intensity, and then—

“Fuckin—look at me,” he bites out, and watery eyes flutter open to meet his gaze. “Need to see those pretty eyes when I fill you up.”

And fuck you’re wet. So wet that it’s seeping onto the skin of your thighs, drooling out of you as you clench around sweet sweet nothing, cunt desperate and begging to be filled again. Tightening your fingers around his cock, you drag your mouth back to suck gently around the pulsating head, and when he comes it’s with a drawn-out, laboured groan that fades into harsh mutterings of your name and fuck and so fuckin’ good at that god damnit and that’s it, swallow it all baby, it’s yours, it’s yours, it’s yours.

You pull off him with a gasp, sucking in deep desperate breaths as you fall onto your back beside him.

Soft sheets stick to the sweat on your skin, and you close your eyes, vaguely aware of how the two of you breathe in sync; a high-strung cacophony of sharp inhales and heavy exhales.

After a few quiet moments you ask, “What time is it?”

“Eighty thirty,” he answers. The mattress jostles and tilts as his large frame shifts on it.

“Probably time to start the day,” you grumble, throat raw and tired.

But you can feel hands on your waist, nudging you backward until your head is slumped amongst the soft pillows again. And when your eyes peak open Joel is getting comfortable between your legs, glasses forgotten somewhere out of sight, hands pressing your thighs into the mattress to reveal your glistening sex to him.

And he says, “No,” shaking his head slowly, near-black eyes piercing as his lips lower to meet your cunt. “Not yet.”

You were unsure, initially, whose idea it was.

Unsure of who spoke first; if you or him brought up the idea of the museum. Unsure if he mentioned the bookstore or you mentioned The Iliad. Unsure, unsure, unsure.  

But as you stand on the outskirts of Central Park—showered, dressed, sure—eyes scanning the front window of the shop, the glass overflowing with newspaper cuttings and novel covers and author profiles and ads for signings – you are certain that it was him. Certain that he asked what your plans were for the day, head resting on your thigh, lips and beard still glistening with your come. Certain that you mentioned going to the museum, and that those brown eyes lit up, mouth splitting into a smile as he revealed that he had plans close by. Certain that he introduced the idea of going together.

A bell tinkles and your gaze sharpens, watching as his broad frame slips out the door with a brown paper bag tucked under his armpit. Joel ticks his head wordlessly to the side and you fall into step next to him, two sets of shoes scuffing against the pavement in a perfect rhythm. 

“Can I see it?” you ask, eyes roaming curiously around the street.

“Sure,” Joel holds the bag out and you take it carefully, fingers peeling back paper so you can take a peak inside.

“The cover is beautiful,” you breathe, fingers tracing vibrant swaths of gold and red, the white lettering that spells The Iliad. You balance the spine in your palm, curious to flick through to the first page. To see the acknowledgements, her author photo, anything. And as your eyes skirt over the very first page your feet stutter to a stop, pulse increasing as you spot the black marker on the page. A messily scrawled signature.

“Joel.”

Joel says your name, pausing a few steps ahead before turning back to face you. “What’s wrong?” he frowns.

You hold up the page, brows lifted in awe. “She… how did you get a signed copy?”

“We’ve met a few times in passing,” he admits sheepishly, eyes glancing between the book and your face. “I’ve always admired her work, and she offered to set a copy aside for me here. She’s very impressive, the first woman to—”

“The first woman to publish an English translation of The Odyssey,” you interrupt. “Yeah, Joel, I know exactly who Emily Wilson is.”

“And now she’s published The Iliad,” he hums. You begin walking again, the museum in sight now. “I’m lookin’ forward to readin’ it. Especially now that I’ve heard all your thoughts about how women and men translate differently. I’m sure it’ll be on my mind as I go.”

The skin on your face prickles and tightens under his attention. You’re still smiling, a wide and satisfised flash of your teeth, when the two of you reach The Met. Still smiling when he pays for your tickets and leads you toward the Cloisters.

You wander together through the exhibit. Medieval, Bohemian, Byzantine. Jean Pucelle, Robert Campin, Tilman. You catch Joel staring at the Bust of the Virgin, one hand on his hip, knee jutted out as he admires her elegance, the tenderness with which her face was carved.

“You like her?” you tease.

His shoulders stiffen and then relax into a sort of indignant laugh.

“I like terracotta,” he smarts, reaching out to pinch your forearm. When he pulls his hand away you see his eyes dart over your shoulder – a quick glance around the room to see if anyone noticed.

“Oh of course,” you nod, a mock serious expression on your face. “Me too. Terracotta virgins.”

“You know,” he huffs, turning to face you head on. “You oughta start showin’ me a bit of respect. Where’s your reverence for an authority figure, huh?”

“Authority?” your eyes widen, smirking broadly as you take a step forward, the material of your jacket brushing against his. “And what authority might that be?”

“I could fail you,” he murmurs, glancing down at your lips. “Tell everyone you’re the worst student I ever had. Never does as she’s told, always talkin’ back.”

“Oh, Professor,” you whisper back, fingers curling around the hem of his shirt, your snark emboldened by his. “I hate to say it, but you’re not very convincing in your distaste.”

You don’t wait around to see his reaction, turning on your heel and heading into the next room. Your cheeks are sore from smiling at the end of it, eyes tired from reading, and then you reach the courtyard gardens. See the cloisters. See the Romanesque columns with their fluting grooves that lead into arches, see the vast green garden with its flowers of yellow and pink and purple. Herbs and flora border the walking paths, filling the air with the scent of thyme and rosemary, and you can’t help but grin.

“Not bad right?” Joel’s voice comes from behind you.

“Not bad at all,” you turn to smile at him. “Would’ve been cooler if they had some dinosaur bones around here though. A museum should always have a dinosaur.”

“A dinosaur,” he repeats, quietly amused. “Of course, you like dinosaurs.”

“I thought, uh,” Joel clears his throat then. Glances away for a second. “Thought you might like it here; that it might remind you of your time in Greece.”

The words make your chest go all warm and tight. He looks so handsome, so easy in the middle of it all. Dark features and broad shoulders softened by the smell of flowers.

“It does,” you nod. “A little bit.”

“What was it like?” he asks.

“Greece was…” you trail off as you remember it. White sand beaches, turquoise waters, boreks and Doric columns, seemingly endless nights spent translating sheets and sheets and sheets of ancient texts. “It was wonderful, really. I feel so lucky to have had the opportunity, and Professor Samaras was a phenomenal instructor.”

Joel nods, fingers looped and resting across his stomach as he digests your answer.

“Good,” is the response he settles on, finally. “I’m glad. You… you deserve that. You work hard, and your presentation was solid.”

And it’s been less than twenty-four hours, but those words bring you calm now, not frustration like they did last night. So you smile, and thank him, and don’t stop yourself from asking him something in return.

“Have you really never been?” you ask, eyes squinting inquisitively as you watch his face, searching the emotions that flitter across it – near impossible to decipher, as always. “You said you weren’t interested, that first night when we spoke about it… but I would’ve thought… I don’t know, maybe a semester abroad or… or a fellowship?”

“Never,” he looks away. “Always too little time, too little money, too many responsibilities.”

You nod slowly, watch him curiously. You wish you could peel back his skin and see inside of that gorgeous brain, that heart. Understand every trouble, every missed opportunity that weighs on his shoulders.

“There’s still time,” you offer. “You’ve got so much time, Joel.”

Joel looks at you and you can see in his eyes that he’s grateful for the words. See that the earnestness with which you speak brings him some kind of solace, some kind of hope.

His fingers graze the skin of your wrist, curling around it to hold you in place beside him. Your body stills, eyes training carefully on the garden; the green of the grass, the pink of the flowers that bloom amongst it all. One of his fingers searches the skin at the inside of your wrist, swiping and rubbing over the tendons and veins there until he finds where your lifeline pulses. And then he strokes that spot, a calm, meticulous glide of his fingertip, over where blood thrums and rushes inside your body.

The tickling sensation has a painful knot of want curling in your chest, but you don’t stop him. Don’t pull your hand away, don’t take a step back. And with every stroke against skin, you feel it as if it where between your thighs—the soft curling of a finger between your folds, against your clit. It feels feverish, like a steady flame that spreads across your skin, up your chest to lick at the inside of your ribcage.  

“Soft,” he says, his voice low and thoughtful. “You’re so soft.” And it sounds painfully like, you’ve got so much time.

And you look at him and he knows. Your face says it all.

Says, let your hands wander wherever they like. Says, if you touched me here—now—I wouldn’t say a word, wouldn’t tell a soul. Says, everything I have to offer is yours if you could only bring yourself to take it. Says, and if your hand won’t wander, won’t stray, I’ll take it in my own and show you where to touch.

So you lead him back inside. Quiet, discreet, slipping past patrons and staff and guards until you find a bathroom. Tuck him inside and smile at the snap of the lock shifting into place behind you.

Joel’s knees meet tile with a soft thud, and dark eyes hold yours as he peels your trousers down, as he drags the slick fabric of your underwear to the side, as he presses the soft cut of his mouth between your legs. He watches you, steadfast, cheeks ablaze and pupils blown as his tongue works you open, calloused fingers holding your left thigh over his shoulder. 

And after you’ve come, face pinched and hidden behind your palm, he pulls away. Skirts wet kisses down the inside of your thigh, against the shell of your kneecap, to the bruise that colours your shin.

And he whispers, “Does it hurt?” with his fingers tracing tender splotches of purple and blue.

And you whisper, “No.” with your fingers brushing the curls off his forehead.

Afterwards you walk through the park, pressing through streams of tourists and locals alike; a lively crowd that parts and flurries around the two of you as you push forward. He fields your questions about Emily Wilson, about the years he spent doing his PhD, parrying seamlessly with queries about the West coast, about your undergrad, your roommates.

The bubble doesn’t break until Joel gets the text. Cursing softly, he turns away from you, eyes focused on his screen.

“Everything okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, yes,” Joel says, fingers flying across the touch screen, typing out a response before he tucks his phone away. “I, uh, look I actually forgot that I have somethin’ I need to do tonight.”

“Sounds mysterious,” you smile, eyebrows raised expectantly. But your smile wavers when he doesn’t match your teasing, face relaxing as you wait.

“Rachel and I planned this dinner a few weeks ago,” he explains. “When we both agreed to attend the conference.”

“Oh,” you blink. “That’s nice.”

“It’s this thing we do,” Joel offers, shifting on his feet. “A tradition, I suppose. To celebrate another conference done.” And you remember, I’ve been to twenty of the damn things. His twenty to your one.

“That’s nice,” you repeat, and hold your smile when he checks his phone again.   

Hold it when he tells you he should go, that he needs to get ready to meet her. Hold it when he hesitates, staring at you for a moment. Hold it when he presses a chaste kiss to the side of your head, lips meeting your temple, the weakest point of your skull, before turning to walk away from you.

Only when you’re alone do you let the smile fall.

After a lonely dinner, you find yourself back in your hotel room, thinking about Rachel.

Folding your blue dress into a neat square, and then a smaller square. Tucking it into your duffel bag, thinking about the rough sound of her laugh. The soft curve of her jaw, the sparkling greys that curl through her dark hair. You fold your underwear, pack that too, and think of her fluorescent toenails and her dangling earrings. Think of how sure she is; how intelligent, how charismatic. And then you think of yesterday – of her hand on Joel’s arm, soft fingers curling around the sleeve of his blazer, carting him around the conference. Leading him. Standing by his side, making him laugh.

And it burns, this hot feeling in your chest. Something dark green and scalding, fiery enough that you feel the need to sit on the edge of the bed and press your palm against the skin above your breast to tamp it down. Feel your heartbeat there, the rise and fall of your chest with each breath, and tell yourself that this feeling is cruel and unforgiving but that it is wrong. You lay out your clothes for the airport, wrap yourself up in the coarse hotel robe and push away the images your mind creates of them at dinner together. Push away the thought of her foot nudging his beneath the table, the thought of them sitting beside each other, thighs brushing like yours had on the bench last night. Because it’s wrong. Joel isn’t like that. Joel wouldn’t do that.

When Nora calls, you pick up on the second ring.

“How did it go?” she squeals, and you feel your shoulders relax at the sound of her voice.

“It was good,” you respond. “I feel good about it. Glad it’s over though.”

“You never answered my text—" the line crackles a little, muffling the last word of her sentence. “I was worried something bad might’ve happened.”

“Fuck,” you apologise. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that, I—I got caught up with something, I… I wasn’t looking at my phone.”

There’s a beat of silence over the phone. Another fried, crackle over the line.

“Oh you cheeky bitch,” she gasps then. “You could’ve just said you were getting some!”

“Nora—” you try, stomach dropping.

“Who the fuck was it?” she continues eagerly. You can almost picture the way her eyes would widen if she were here with you, hands clenched excitedly at her sides as she pushes for all the gory details. “Was it someone from the conference? Oh my god, was it someone from UNE?”

“No, no,” you rush, feeling an anxious heat rise in your chest. “It was just a random guy, we… I met him at a bar afterwards, it’s no one from Maine. No one from the conference.”

Another pause.

“And?” she asks finally. “How was it?”

You consider her question for a moment. Remember the way he undressed you in the dim light of his hotel room – slow, cautious. Remember the way he looked at you. Those dark brown eyes feasting over every inch of flesh, every mark, every freckle, every scar. The feeling of his hands on your breasts, his bare chest against yours as he pressed inside of you.

Quietly, earnestly, you say, “It was amazing,” and smile when she hollers down the line.

And this feeling is so much kinder, you think. The relief and the warmth that comes with being able to tell someone. To talk about him, even if you’re not really talking about him. Even if she can’t really know the truth.

You put her on speaker, still listening and laughing as she rattles off question after question. Did he go down on you? How big was he? Wait he was older?! You bitch! How old?! That’s hot. Fuck, I need to get laid.

“You really do,” you chuckle, laying down against the pillows and typing out a text to Joel.

Are you enjoying your dinner?

He replies within minutes.

Yeah, the restaurant is nice.

What are you doing?

“Hey Nora?” you interrupt. “I actually need to go.”

“Oh,” she huffs. “Alright, alright, I get it. You’re gonna go get fucked again. Good for you bitch.”

“I love you,” you laugh, already typing out a response to him. “See you tomorrow when I get home.”

Well my bags are packed, and I just tucked myself into bed

You watch the text bubble appear, disappear, and reappear over three times before it vanishes completely. Minutes go by; maybe ten, maybe fifteen, and then—

Show me.

Grinning, you loosen the tie around your robe to reveal a flash of the skin across your chest; the curve of your left breast, the peak of your nipple. Take a picture and make sure he can see your finger snagged between your lips, resting against the softness of your tongue.

For a moment you worry. Feel a spike of fear in your chest that if you send it someone else might catch a glimpse of his screen – that Rachel might see it. But then another text comes through, and you feel that fear melt into a warm pool of liquid.

I know you want to show me, sweetheart.

So you do. You click send and wait, teeth catching against the nail on your thumb.

The response is almost instant.

Jesus.

Are you wet?

You know I am

Are you touching yourself?

No

Good.

Dinner finished early. Where are you?

You send him the address of your hotel. Call the lobby and tell them to let him up. And when he arrives, you’re waiting for him on the balcony. You hear the heavy pad of his footsteps crossing the room, and then the slide of the glass door. Feel the broad span of his chest press against your back; outstretched fingers that glide around the curve of your waist to settle over your stomach.

Joel doesn’t say a word, nosing at the frizzled kinks of hair at the base of your neck. One of his hands drifts upward, fingers curling beneath the neckline of your robe, just grazing the curve of your breast. You let your eyes fall closed and think this feels like coming home.  Think, if this moment could last for hours, for days, for ever, that would be enough, and I’d never ask for another thing. Think, where have I been all of my life, and why was it not here with him?

You say, “Let’s go inside,” as he touches your nipple, and feel him shake his head.

“No,” he says. Presses his hips against your ass, rough denim brushing the backs of your knees. “Want you here.” 

You start to say Someone might see, but Joel pushes you forward again and your stomach presses against railing. Your eyes dart down toward the street, the road. To cars and pedestrians and tourists. 

“You don’t want that?” his lips brush the side of your neck as he speaks, the softest pressure. He tugs at your robe, guiding it down past your shoulders, elbows, until it pools around your feet. “Don’t want them to see us together?”

“That’s not—” you gasp as his teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder, hot tongue gliding over already bruising flesh. “Fuck, Joel.”

He groans against your skin, lathing wet kisses past your neck to the top of your spine. His hands are on your waist and your stomach and your tits and his jeans chafe against your bare ass, zipper catching every now and then. But your mind is hazy, a blur of thoughts that can only focus on the feeling of teeth and lips, on something long and firm pressing through the material of his pants, rutting slowly against you. 

“You’re hard already,” you breathe, surprised—delighted.

Joel grunts, distracted. “Been hard since you sent me that picture.”

A shaky breathes leave your lips as his hand skirts down your stomach, your hipbones, until his fingers slip past the glistening seam of your cunt – tender and swollen and aching. 

“But that’s what you wanted, hmm?” he rasps. You whimper as his fingers circle over your entrance, collecting your slick and dragging it upward. A flinch rips through you when he touches your clit, the nerves fraught after being given so much attention throughout the day. “You like knowin’ how much I want you? How badly? You like that I’d leave dinner early just to come here and fuck you?”

Face on fire, you nod; caught out. And then he takes another step forward, bending you further over the railing and pressing himself against you, hard enough that you can feel his cock between your ass cheeks, denim scraping the sensitive skin there.

“That is how much I want you. All the fuckin’ time,” he says. “Get it?” 

“Joel,” you stutter urgently, voice almost a squeak. Your thighs shake, knees close to buckling as his finger rubs slow circles against your clit. “S’too—fuck, Joel, it’s too sensitive.” It burns, too much – but his touch only serves to stoke the fire in your belly until it’s a roaring, raging thing, begging for more of too much. 

“I know, honey,” he groans, and you think you can hear the sound of his zipper coming undone. “You sore?”

When you don’t answer immediately Joel’s fingers still, body straightening as if he’s about to stop, about to pull away.

“Don’t,” you say quickly. “Just—”

“M’not goin’ anywhere,” Joel hushes. “Does it hurt?”

You hesitate, stomach tightening when his fingers start to move again. “It’s… yeah a little, but it’s…”

“But you like it? Like it when it hurts a little?” he fills the silence, and you can hear the change in his voice. Hear how it deepens, a gravelly effect that has your cunt tightening. You cringe, turn your head to the side in the hopes that he won’t see your reaction. But he doesn’t let it slide. Of course not. “Talk to me.”  

“Yeah, yes, I like it,” you admit, exhaling a relieved sigh when you hear his belt hit the ground.

“Good,” he says, and then you can feel him, hot silken skin on your own, the wet glide of his cock against your ass check.

His knuckles brush against you as he adjusts himself, and the weight of his tip at your opening is not unlike the brush of his fingers along your bruised shin. Tender, careful – the touch of someone that would never hurt you. Not unless you asked him to.

When Joel rocks his hips forward, cock splitting you open around his weight, the stretch is long and deep. A sweet, searing burn that has you balancing on the tips of your toes, mouth hanging open as you grip the railing and take it. The night air is cool against your skin, but warm hands land firm on your hips, thumbs circling and rubbing away the goosebumps there

“God,” he grunts into the hinge of your jaw, teeth nipping at the muscle there. “You’re so wet, so needy. Want this cock all the time, don’t you?”   

You can only moan in response – a choked, whimper of a noise that scratches its way out of your throat as he bottoms out. His thighs are warm and thick against yours, body practically moulding itself to you as you squirm, cunt pulsing around the thick length of him.

He gives you a moment to adjust, waits to feel you relax against him, and then he’s moving. Slow, powerful thrusts that have you feeling him in your stomach, and wishing you could see his face. Wishing you could watch his nose scrunch up, his lips curl into a snarl as he fucks you. Wishing that everything you’re feeling could be reflected back to you in his face, the way it was last night.

“Thought about you all night,” he says in your ear, a dirty little confession, whispered only for you to hear. “You know how sick that is? At dinner with my colleague, my friend, and I couldn’t get this perfect cunt out of my head. S’drivin’—me—fuckin’—crazy.”

And it’s sick, it’s awful, but you feel your lips peel back, face breaking into a toothy grin at the words. That envy, that jealousy, that dark green sticky feeling - all of it for naught because you were right. Joel Miller is yours.

“Yeah?” you pant, pushing your ass back into him and smiling even wider when he grunts, blunt fingernails digging into your waist. “What were you thinking about?” 

“’Bout how tight you always are,” he kisses the side of your neck, tongue flicking incessantly against the skin there. “How perfect you felt around me last night. How you take it so well.” He bites down, sucking until the skin throbs, another mark left in his wake. “How, if I can help it, I’ll never wear a condom when I fuck you again.”  

You curse, head lolling back against his shoulder. The confession makes you ache. “Please,” you mutter desperately. “Joel, please.”

“Thought about fillin’ you up,” he continues eagerly. “Fuckin’ you so hard, so deep with my come that you’d feel it for days. And you’d be mine.” His hips snap forward in a particularly harsh thrust and you grunt, cringing as the railing bites into your ribs. Mine mine mine.

“I’m yours,” you moan as he fucks you, a steady smack-smack-smack sound filling the air as his hips collide with the meat of your ass, over, and over, and over again. “You know I am.”

And you want to know what he thinks of that, want to know what comes next, but the sound of laughter echoes up from the street suddenly, and you tense, eyes snapping wide open. Joel doesn’t slow down.

“Look at them,” he hushes, voice quietening some.

His hand raises to point somewhere over the balcony, but you don’t see where; eyes trained on his fingers, his skin, the blue veins that swell and pulse beneath it. Your eyes try to follow it, but you’re looking the wrong way, following the hard line of his wrist, the corded veins in his forearm, his bicep, trying desperately, shamelessly, to catch a glimpse of his face.

“I said look at them,” his voice deepens, an authoritative tone taking over as his long fingers grip your jaw, angling it down until you do as he says.

You can see three of them. Squinting, you try to make out their faces from four storeys up. Stumbling down the street, laughing loudly, bumping shoulders as they walk.

Joel’s hips press forward and you gasp, eyes rolling back as his swollen tip nudges the deepest, softest place inside of you.

“Wait,” you whisper hoarsely, body jerking forward with every practised thrust of his cock. Say again, “Someone might see.”

“I hope they do,” he growls, hand falling to drape over your neck.

His fingers press gently against either side, cradling your pulse point in the palm of his hand. Your brain goes foggy with the pressure, mind buzzing and blurring. The sensation of his broad grip against your throat mixes with the drag of his cock between your thighs and it’s intoxicating; a high that you’ve never experienced before, and never want to end. You don’t realise how loud you’re gasping, moaning, keening his name, until you hear him laugh. A rough, elated sound.

“I knew it,” he chuckles, and you tighten around him, fingers fumbling backward, seeking purchase at the soft flesh of his hips as he continues rocking into you. His hand drops from your neck to your tits, and he squeezes.

“Admit it. Admit you fuckin’ love it,” Joel pants, every word punctuated by a white-hot press of his cock and a heavy exhalation against your neck. “Dirty little thing—you want them to see. Say it.” 

“Fuck,” you cry, spine arching as you push backward, meeting the movements of his hips.

“Fuckin’ say it,” he snaps, all hints of laughter gone now, his rough drawl only offset by the fond way his hands play with your tits. Careful, kind; every pinch, every squeeze, every caress a generous and tender display.

“I want it,” you blubber, sight blurring into a mess of streetlights and skyscrapers and strangers on the street. “W-want them to see how you fuck me, how you take care of me.”

“That’s it,” he groans, and you can feel the way he twitches inside of you, cock jerking against your walls in hot fast movements.

“Want them to know,” you continue, and there’s tears streaking messily down your cheeks, your lips moving faster than you can control. “Want them to see us, see how good it is, how perfect.”

And it’s too much now, you think. Finally, too much of too much. The railing is bruising against your stomach. Every stroke of his cock, every graze of your nipples – Joel’s touch akin to the end of a frayed wire, sparking and spitting embers wherever the two of you come into contact. Your cunt is on fire, every inch of sticky wet flesh throbbing and smarting.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby, you gonna show them how you come for me? Gonna let them hear it?”

“I can’t,” you choke out, shaking your head numbly. Yours lungs are on fire, mouth dry as you try fruitlessly to suck in breath after breath. “Fuck, I don’t think I can—”

“Hey,” his voice calls. A rough finger wipes across your cheek, smearing the salty tears further across your skin. “You can, you can, I can’t—I fuckin’ need this, need it.”  

“It’s too much,” you gasp frantically. But your words aren’t matched by the desperate grind of your hips. Aren’t matched by the way you twitch and shake between him and the glass, abdomen tensing tighter tighter tighter with every thrust. “Fuck, I’m—I’m close but it’s too much, Joel, it’s too much, I can’t, I can’t—”

He pulls out quickly. You gasp wetly at the loss, at how your walls clench and suck around that empty warm space in his absence. Deft hands grip your waist, tilting and turning you until your back is against the railing now, and his mouth is between your legs, wet lips and tongue so soft in comparison, so soothing against that burn.

There’s no shying away now, no stuttering or whining – you simply melt, thigh softening around the curve of his shoulder, allowing him to hold you up as his tongue teases and coaxes you to the edge of your third mind-numbing, toe-curling orgasm that day.

And you don’t notice at first how his bicep shifts and flexes beneath your thigh. Don’t notice how he groans and sighs against your messy cunt, panting and muttering your name as he strokes his cock in tight, wet jerks. And when you come, gushing into his mouth, his eyes snap open, endless spheres of deep brown gazing up at you, desperate to see. Your legs tremble with the force of it, hands grappling for purchase on his shoulders, in his hair. And with your lips parted, tears drying on your cheeks, you watch the way his face crumples—wrecked. How eyebrows furrow and eyelids flutter shut. Joel’s mouth slips away from you, teeth sinking into the flesh of your thigh, something to ground him as he grunts, a low, ragged sound, before you feel him come in warm, thick spurts against your calf.

“Fuck,” you mumble deliriously. Can hardly hear yourself over the roar of your pulse in your ears. “So good, you’re so beautiful.”

Joel’s face is flushed, skin tinged with a deep red that settles across the highest peaks of his cheekbones and disappears into his beard. And when his eyes open again, drowsiness swimming beneath those heavy lids, you can see the way they shine. Glistening with something wet, something earnest. You thumb gently at his waterline, swiping away the tears like he’s done for you. 

His lips press a chaste kiss to the pad of your thumb, tongue snaking out to lick his tear from your skin, and you think you must repeat it, So beautiful, because he smiles. Breathing heavily, eyes wet, he grins for you. A flash of white that he quickly smothers against the skin of your leg.

After catching his breath, Joel leads you inside and helps you shower. Stands outside the glass door, hand gripping your elbow to brace your shaking frame as you glide soap over your arms, down your legs. His fingers dig in firmer when you slip a hand between your thighs, whimpering as warm water streams over the sensitive skin there. He doesn’t flinch or shy away when specks of water flick out and dampen his shirt.

“You okay?” he asks as he helps you out, wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

You nod, mind still foggy, and let him rub the coarse fabric over the skin of your arms, your legs, drying you off before he tucks you back into your robe. And when he leads you back into the room, helping you carefully onto the bed, a flash of concern splits across his face. He takes a step back, a step away, until his back is brushing against the wall.

You lay down on the bed, heavy limbs splayed haphazardly across the soft blankets and pillows. Your robe is open, the tie still forgotten somewhere on the balcony, revealing the skin of your stomach, your thighs, still dotted with warm droplets of water.

And Joel's not far, not really; tucked away in the corner of the room, unsure, arms hanging listlessly by his sides as he stares. Takes in every inch of you as if it’s the first time all over again. Perhaps, as if he’s worried it will be the last.

“I should go,” he says, painfully unconvincing.

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, eyelids heavy as you stare back at him.

Your lips part in a soft yawn as you scratch languidly at the skin over your ribs, and dark eyes follow the movement of your fingers. Watch how your skin smarts and pulls beneath your fingernails until you sigh in contentment, the itch disappearing.

“You gotta be up early,” he says.

“I do.”

“And it’s late,” his eyebrows raise.

“Is it?” you smile. Raise your eyebrows in return and laugh when he sighs, hands twitching at his sides.

“Are we really doing this again?” you ask, smile slipping when you notice his frown. The twisted furrow of his brows, the curl of his upper lip. As if all of the features on his face have pinched together in the middle. Something churns in your stomach; a sick feeling that rises to lodge at the base of your throat. Waiting. “Talk to me.”

“M’tryin’,” he admits quietly. “Tryin’… tryin’ to be good. I want to be good.”

Your heart drops. And then, driven by some emotion that you can’t name, don’t want to name, it climbs its way back up, lurching forward in your chest. It claws and scrapes and tears itself out through a crack between two of your ribs, flinging itself across the room at him.

“You are good,” you whisper. Feel your bottom lip wobble, unsteady but sure. Certain of nothing but this as the words slip out. “You’re good, Joel. We are good.”

And when he smiles you think you can see it in his teeth. Little fragments of your heart; the beating core of you, dark red and macerated in the cracks of his canines, the lining of his gums.  

Joel closes his eyes and repeats the word. A softly murmured, Good, as if the word itself confounds him, and you think you must be imagining the red smeared across his chin. Your blood seeping out past his lips, dribbling down to stain the skin of his neck.

“I hope you’re right.” He takes a deep, steadying breath. One that shakes the planes of his broad chest, makes it rise to its fullest potential before he sucks another in, shoulders relaxing, and walks across the room towards the bed.

Towards you.

thank you for reading! x

[nanaslutt]

gojo's first time meeting you and instantly noticing your freckles. like nothing other than your freckles, not even the clothes you're wearing rn or your hair or eyes.

freckles.

and im absolutely sure geto would be so fed up with gojo ranting about how he wants to kiss every single one of them.

oh my god this is so cute???????? this reminds me of gojos cannon reaction to seeing geto for the first time and thinking “bangs” lol

contains: fem transfer student!reader, 3rd year satosugu, geto choosing to stay at jujutsu tech au, the boys are both 19 here, Geto has morals, gojo uhhhhhh, crackkk, fluff, perv!gojo, masturbation, caught masturbating, fantasizing

note: the toji fic will b posted later tonight or tmrw morn :p

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

Freckles………

If you looked close enough you might be able to see the white orbs floating around Gojo’s head,

“Uhhh, sorry is there something on my face” you spoke up when he didn’t say anything after you introduced yourself.

Satoru getting jolted out of his trance when suguru landed a mean smack on the back of his head, pouting at his dark haired bestfriend.

“Sorry about him,” geto apologized on his behalf, “he can be quite oblivious to how his actions affect other people.” suguru grit behind his teeth, looking out the corner of his eye to see satoru shooting daggers at him.

“Asshole…” the white haired man mumbled under his breath, looking up from under his white lashes, gaze set back on your face, watching you rub the back of your neck, saying something to geto.

Words leaving your mouth sounding muffled as his gaze dropped to your neck, noticing that the brown spots trailed further and further down the length of your neck, even traveling under the collar of your shirt, where the cloth obstructed his view.

Lip twitching up breifly at his annoyance, wanting to see just how far the freckles really went.

“Right satoru?” Suguru laughed, both of you directing your attention to the albino, “god da-“ smacking him harder once more on the back of his head, sending him his body curling in on himself on the ground and groaning, “manners satoru jesus christ.” suguru smacks a heavy hand over his face at gojos antics.

—

Gojo let his head fall of the edge of sugurus bed, silky hair falling around his ears, suguru laying against the headboard, flipping through some magazine, sugurus low-fi playlist playing softly in the backround.

“God….did you see how her frek-“ Geto swiftly cutting him off by kicking his foot into his shin, “satoru i swear to god if you say one more thing about her fucking freckles i’m going to cut out your tongue.” he spat, not looking up from his magazine.

For days after your first meeting he would not shut up about how cute he found your freckles.

Learning when you wore a skimpy tank top when sparing with shoko, that the cute spots not only covered your pretty face, but your arms and hands too.

Watching the light hit your skin as your body moved swiftly, shirt lifting when you flipped and twisted yourself, seeing the freckles and moles scattered across your tummy.

Shirt barely having lifted for a couple milliseconds, but he didn’t have good eyesight for nothing. Gojo quickly memorizing the placement of the dots and engraving it in his brain.

Brain practically short circuiting when the sun was beating down on the school a little too how one day, meaning he got to see you in shorts.

short, skimpy, tight, shorts.

It was like you wanted him to look, leaning over the counter, knees perched on the stool and elbows on the counter, cradling your soft cheeks in your hands as you spoke to shoko over the table.

Twisting your hips on the swivel stool, making the fabric of your shorts raise, letting him see even more brown spots on the insides of your thighs from his place on the couch behind you.

“torruuu,” geto caught him off gaurd, whispering into the shell of his ear, “quit bein a fucking perv.” turning to look at the not so friendly looking smile plastered on the dark haired mans face. ugh. buzzkill.

Taking them back to the present, “I know I knowww, you hate beauty we get it..” gojo drawled, sticking his tongue out and rolling his eyes. Lucky the bed blocked geto’s view of gojo’s face from here, as he probably would’ve hit him.

“I just cannot stop thinking about kissing her cute little face, maybe her neck..” pausing for a second, getting too absolved in his words, “below her neck…” he whispered.

“Satoru, stop telling me about your perverted fantasies about our new classmate, please.” letting the magazine drop into his lap as he finally let himself look down at the man.

Geto quickly noticing the extremely obvious tent in his pants. “You have 2 seconds to get you and your boner off my bed or your not gonna like it.” geto growled.

Gojo let his body slide of the bed backwards headfirst into the hardwood floor. “You hate meeeee,” he dragged out his words dramatically, “You hate my happinesssss” he continued, geto closing his eyes and shook his head, feeling a headache come on at his antics.

“I hate your penis.” Geto corrected. “She has a mind of her own, it’s not my faul,” gojo defended, sprawling his limbs out on the floor.

“Did you just refer to your dick as ‘she’?” Geto asked, needing to clarify the insanity gojo was spouting, leaning over the end of his bed to get a better look at the white haired freak.

“Well yeah,” he stated like it was obvious, “cant be a ‘him’, that would be gay.”

Geto blinked at him, glancing at the ceiling to center himself before he looked back at the man on the floor. Leaning back out of view, he picked up the magazine, throwing it straight at gojos crotch. Of course now of all times when geto decided to assault him, he had his infinity on.

“Oh that would’ve hurt so bad,” gojo closed his lanky legs together, covering his crotch with his hands. “I cant believe you really went for my nads.” gojo bit his lip in offense, faux crying at getos meaness.

Geto just rolled his eyes in response, flopping back into the bed, folding his hands over his chest as he was left entertain-less.

—

When the two of you finally exchanged numbers, he used the opportunity to ask to take a picture together; for your profile picture of course!

Definitely not because he wanted to stare at the picture by himself for hours; pinching the screen between his fingers, zooming in and out of on the photo as he now could really map out each and every one of your freckles.

Blushing when his brain compared them to the constellations, how romantic he thought.

What happened next was… less romantic.

Phone laid out on the bed underneath him while his hand laid next to it, bracing himself as he hovered above it, other hand rapidly stroking his cock.

Staring into your eyes unabashedly, no geto around to tell him off as he engraved whatever piece of your face he wanted into his brain permanently.

Squeezing over the tip when he looked at how big his hand looked compared to your shoulder, palm resting on it in the photo.

Twitching at the mole placed perfectly on your cleavage, getting a great view of the crack between your breasts from the high angle he held the phone at. Mentally patting himself on the back for that.

He had zoomed in onto your half of the photo, not wanting to look at himself while he masturbated.

Mouth watering with the urge to press his lips against every single one of your freckles. Imagining you giggling and blushing while he tickled your face with his soft lips making him dizzy.

Gojo imagined your hand instead of his, wrapped tightly around his cock. He imagined pressing his length against your plush lips, rubbing the tip over them, feeling your tongue dart out and lick his tip.

Groaning out your name when he came, abs clenching when ropes of cum spurted out of his dick, and all over the sheets underneath him.

Grimacing when he watched some of it land on his phone screen; disgust being slightly overpowered by how erotic your pixelated face looked with his cum decorating it.

“Satoru did you take my charger again? Swear i’m gonna kill you-“ Suguru cut himself short when he slid satoru’s door open, taking in the scene in front of him.

Geto wasn’t able to fully see his phone, but he knew full well what his jerk off material was.

Satoru gave him a dopey grin, practically seeing smoke emit from atop getos head as he slammed the door shut, kicking his foot against the wood and yelling out, “cant believe i’m best friends with such a pervert!” down the hallway, voice getting quieter the further he got away from gojos room.

Satoru didn’t care though, gazing back at his phone, picking it up in his palm before using his thumb to smear the cum over your smiling lips lewdly.

He absolutely needed to get his hands on you, and he would make sure he did.

[loveshotzz]

I have to know what would we do to spoil our old man on his birthday 🥺🥺🥺🥺

we’d spoil him rotten 🥺

here’s semi spicy 18+ blurb about giving our favorite old man a massage on his birthday ♥️

(this blurb is for my au All I Really Want Is You but can be read as a stand-alone. Steve is 43 and fem!reader is 31 requested so long ago by @joekeerysmoles 💕) wc:600

The rose oil that covers your hands makes your fingertips glide over his broad freckled shoulders with ease. Eucalyptus hangs thick and heavy in the warm air, crackling from the wooden wicks inside the candles that provide the only light in his room. They help the nerves that still flutter even after a year of saying ‘I love you’.

Steve lays flat on his chest underneath you only in his boxer briefs, the gold Gucci emblem around the waist band shimmers in the low light. Your knees sit on either side of his hips, dipping down the plush bedding of his new king size mattress. A 43rd birthday gift to himself, while you sit in nothing but the thin red lace of the one you got for him.

Leaning forward with a smirk, your lips ghost across two of your favorite moles that dot the back of his neck, the tip of your nose tracing the shell of his ear.

“Happy birthday old man.”

Applying just enough pressure up the dip of his spine, you earn a low moan from him that vibrates deep in your core. It takes every ounce of your willpower not to rock your hips and chase it.

“Honey,” his voice comes out muffled from around the tops of his hands,“I wish there were words to describe how good this feels.”

Giggling with a chest full of pride, you catch a flash of his white teeth, stubble covered cheeks pushing up at his favorite sound. One of his big hands slips out, shoulders flexing with his movement as he reaches back to squeeze at the soft dough of your thigh before disappearing back to where it came from.

A content sigh escapes from between his pink lips as your focus shifts to his neck, your fingers digging at the tense muscles under his gold chain. The metal glistens with oil every time it catches the glow of the flickering candle, while your thumb and forefinger knead behind his ears.

“Shit, baby.”

Huffing with furrowed brows, he readjusts so he can turn his head to the other side. The movement slides you forward, creating just enough friction to bite down on your bottom lip. The dull ache between your legs becomes even harder to ignore, and you wonder if he can feel just how wet you are.

“Yeah, is that the spot?” You coo all sticky sweet, working it with even more focus. He sucks in a sharp breath, his teasing kisses all night spurring you on.

”God, fuck - yeah, yeah, right there.” He groans loud enough to drown out the sounds of The O’Jays vinyl playing downstairs, your thumb finally loosening up a hard knot.

His whole body melts under your touch, the hard lines of his face relaxing while the blunt ends of your nails scratch at the silver hairs hiding in the nape of his neck. Letting go of his long work week with deep breath, the movements have your hips rolling on their own, his oiled sun kissed skin making it too easy to do again.

He hums knowingly, relishing in the soft tug of his hair loving the way you squeal when he flips himself over. Big hands grab at your hips to keep you in place, the effects of your massage had on him becoming obvious nestled between your thighs.

There’s still no preparing for the sight beneath you, and despite seeing it almost every day, you still can’t believe he’s yours.

His soft hair is a tousled mess of auburn and silver on top of his head, begging you to drag your hands through it. The five o’clock shadow that peppers his strong jaw is at your favorite length, and sometimes you think he grows it out a little longer just for you. His gold chain that hangs off his neck fits like a choker, no longer lost in the thick patch of chest hair that you swear has a few more gray curls inside of it after today. Letting your hands wander his chest, your gentle touch makes the subtle muscles of his abs twitch. Perfect teeth biting down on his full bottom lip, watching you in awe.

“You know I hate my birthdays? Always have.” Steve hums, warm palms gliding up your thighs, squeezing at the soft dough before digging his long fingers into your hips, “Now I wish it was every day with you lookin’ like this, pretty girl.”

”Who says it can’t be?” You grin, running your slick hands back up his pecs, nails scratching in the coarse hair there.

Leaning forward, you fix his chain bumping the end of your nose with his, rolling your hips slowly, you feel him twitch inside the soft cotton of his briefs.

”It certainly feels like it,” he whispers with a smile against your lips.

[xervn]

𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 🔧

oneshot | mechanic ellie x reader

ao3 link

summary: your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, but thankfully ellie shows up and offers her help

18+ MDNI | 6.3k words | tags; modern au, porn w/ plot (like 70% is plot tbh), kissing, vaginal fingering, pining from reader? arguably, no use of y/n, not proofread

my first post on tumblr EVER and my first time seriously writing smut, so pls be kind!

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It’s midday and you’ve been driving down an isolated road in fuck-knows-where with the hopes you’ll be able to find a gas station in at least 15 minutes. You’ve been driving down this straight road for what felt like ages now, your only surroundings being orange-colored sand and leafless plants. 

Never in your life has driving made you more anxious, it was like you were in charge of safely disarming a bomb. You gripped the wheel and glanced at the gas gauge occasionally, each look wearing your hope thinner. You were supposed to fill your tank before leaving, but it wasn’t in your plans to get lost in the first place. You knew your incompetence would catch up to you eventually, but you didn’t think it’d be now. 

Your teeth grit against each other as you raced against time. You desperately repeated affirmations, hoping they would help you along the way. Maybe if you ignored the fact you could be stranded, you’ll get to your destination faster. 

My gas is NOT running out…

I will NOT have a mental breakdown…

I AM responsible…

Not even a good moment later, the engine starts sputtering as if you called it upon yourself. You desperately tapped at the fuel gauge, resulting in the amount dropping drastically. To your surprise, it’s been showing the wrong amount the entire time. You drove towards the side of the road so you could let the tank run out while you spit out a colorful array of obscenities. There was no doubt in your mind that this might be the worst day of your life.

You slammed at the dashboard of your piece of shit, beat up, 2012 Toyota Tacoma with unprecedented rage, dropping your head onto the steering wheel in defeat. The depleting noises the engine made as it slowly died only added to how you were feeling. Your face heated up and your eyes brimmed with tears; not because you were sad, but because you were so damn pissed.

“Fuck my life...” You sobbed out, forehead pressing harder into the wheel. 

The sudden blaring sound that came from the car’s diaphragm jolted you up and caused you to yelp out. Everything’s silent for a while— you included— like a city before a tsunami attacks or the quiet before a dam bursts. In proper fashion, you unleashed a waterfall of tears; slowly, but surely, turning into a wallowing mess. Tears, snot, and saliva everywhere all because you made an irresponsible decision and drove a terrible car to make irresponsible decisions in.

Out of frustration, you honked some more, beating at the wheel’s center like there’s a solution inside of it. Certainly, this wasn’t the best way to handle your situation, but it was the only thing you had the energy to do. Amidst all the beeping and profanities, you failed to notice a car pulling up beside you. They honked their horn in unison with yours and the harmony caused you to frantically look around for the source.

You turned to your left and your gaze was met with a green set of eyes. It only took a second longer for you to realize who or what was looking at you. A woman with short auburn hair and a freckled face was shooting you a concerned glare.  

All that was running through your head now was that a woman was looking at you and the manic episode you were having would undoubtedly scare off any future prospects. As your stomach turned into knots of shame, you muttered a low swear and quickly wiped away the remaining tears on your face. 

You took a deep breath and calmly rolled down your window, which took an agonizingly slow amount of time. You occasionally spared the woman a few awkward glances with an equally awkward grin. Your humiliation built up along with the comically loud sound coming from the rolling window. After what felt like an eternity later, the window finally rolled down and you looked up to meet the woman’s gaze again, further examining her features.

Right there and then, you swore your heart fell out of your ass. You never thought you’d find yourself saying something so cliche, but the lady was a sight for your teary sore eyes. She was wearing a simple gray tank top, which showcased her spectacularly shaped arms and tattooed forearm.

The sight of her alone made you question your sanity. Maybe you were imagining her to make you feel better? You wouldn’t be surprised if you did.

 As you looked up at her even more attractive face, you noticed her scarred brow was perked up, which could only mean she noticed you staring, and based on the subtle curl at the corner of her lips; she found it amusing too.

 Your face instantly warmed up. You needed to defend your ogling quickly, but before you could manage out a single word, the beauty beat you to it.

“Are you okay?” The woman questioned, the slight lilt at the end of it only deepened your embarrassment. It physically pained you to imagine how much of your breakdown she saw.

“I’m fine, I was just...” You couldn’t finish your sentence, so you let out a sheepish laugh to fill in the space. 

“You sure? It looks like you’re having some trouble.” The woman gestures her head at your car as she speaks, not breaking a second of eye contact. 

You chewed on your lip, nervously shifting your stare before admitting, “Uh, yeah. I ran out of gas...”

“Looks like it slightly inconvenienced you.” 

A subconscious scoff fell from your mouth as you lazily gestured around you. “Slightly?”

“Just a guess. I could hear the honking a mile away.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the only thing that works on this junk.”

The woman let out an amused hum, casually glancing at the road behind her before turning to you again. “Did you already call for help?”

“Nope...” You responded, your eyes still wandering off.

 The woman idly wet her lips in thought before driving up the road. For a moment, you thought she rudely left you stranded on the side of the road, but after carefully looking, you noticed she was driving a tow truck. 

Your previous thought that she might be a figment of your imagination immediately came back, because what the hell? A real-life angel came to save you at your lowest. She parked in front of your car and stepped out of the vehicle and you peered out the window of yours, shamelessly following her movements in awe.

She was slim, lean, and held an average height. The jeans she was wearing fit her so nicely, you actually had to pinch yourself to stop looking. 

You reached for your rearview mirror and pointed it towards yourself, making sure most of your makeup was intact. Much to your dismay, your eyeliner was smudged, and your lip gloss was wiped away. So, not only did she watch you wail like a baby, you looked like one too. You glimpsed back at the woman, making sure she wouldn’t catch you in the act of dolling up for her. 

You stepped out of the car after quickly fixing your makeup, a bit shy to face the woman now. You weren’t particularly dressed like you were ready to do any flirting today, sporting a white graphic crop tee and distressed blue jean shorts. Nonetheless, you fidgeted with your clothes before approaching her. 

She double glanced at you as she moved stuff off the truck’s ramp, eventually blurting out, “I don’t have any gas in my truck, and uh–“ She abruptly stopped her action to look at you as she spoke, “– there’s no gas station out here for a while, but I have a garage not too far away.” 

“You’ll help me? I mean, is it okay? I don’t wanna shit on your plans.” You asked, but mostly out of decency. You needed the help after all. Plus, your only other option was to wait for another mechanic instead of just going with this extremely hot one.

She grinned and nodded a few times reassuringly. You found that every little motion she did melted you a bit. Just the tease of a smile from her could turn you into pudding. “It’s no problem, I was headed there anyway. It’s not every day I get to rescue a damsel in distress.” 

You bit down a bashful grin as you muttered a thanks and she told you to wait in the passenger seat. When you walked off, you swore you could feel her eyes burning into you. You couldn’t tell if it was a phantom feeling or if she was actually staring you down, but every inch of you hoped for the latter.

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You took a look around your surroundings. The car smelled like diesel and marijuana, but you weren’t expecting much from a tow truck. There was a cute 3D dinosaur pendent hanging off the rear-view mirror and the car had small handmade stickers across the dashboard. 

Before you could look any further, the woman stepped into the driver’s seat and started the car. She just hooked your car up to hers, so she had to take a look behind to make sure it was in place, setting her tattooed arm on your headrest as she did so. Your heart skipped at the closeness and all you could do was stare at her like a dork.

It was slightly perverse how much you enjoyed staring at her face. You’ve seen beauty before, but she was a discovery. Another plus was that she smelt really good. She didn’t wear a sweet or flowery perfume. She wore something earthier, and it blended in perfectly with that slight hint of gasoline. The best way to describe it is that she smelt like a pinewood air freshener in a new car but fucking hot. 

The woman caught you off guard with a glance, her own face a bit shocked to find you looking at her. You quickly averted your gaze and eyed the road up instead, pursing your lips together as if nothing happened, attempting to ignore the shame away.

You were obviously embarrassed, and that usual mortified feeling washed over your body. She didn’t laugh or anything, but as she retrieved her arm and put her hand on the wheel, you nervously glimpsed at her face and saw a small, smug smile. 

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The drive was painfully quiet. All you could hear was muffled crunchy sounds of the road and the humming of the truck’s engine. You sat there, fiddling with your shorts as you slowly zoned out.

“Where are you headed?” The woman blurted out, causing you to abruptly turn her way. She was still focused on the road ahead, so you took the time to peer at her side profile, in which you deemed needed to be framed and hung up in an art gallery.

“I’m going to see my family upstate for the holidays.”

“How long have you been driving then?”

“About... three hours.”

“Three hours and you didn’t think to stop for gas?” She huffed out a melodic laugh and peeked at you. You’d let her tease you as much as she wanted as long as you got to hear that laugh again. 

“I thought I had enough! My stupid tank was reading wrong.” You responded, puffing your cheeks out at the thought.

“I’ll fix that too then.”

“That’d be appreciated.”

“Why’re you driving that old thing anyways?”

You shrugged as you spoke out, “Well, I’m a college student and it’s better than nothing.”

“Really? What’s your major?” She looked at you for a moment with genuine curiosity. It didn’t feel like she was just looking for small talk.

Her interest was comforting, but you were slightly wary to say it. Your major didn’t necessarily scream out sexy like psychology or law would. You hesitated before slowly speaking out. “… Astrophysics.” 

You knew the chances of her having any idea what your nerdy major was about was incredibly low. You bit your lip as you waited for the awkward ‘oh’ or ‘cool’ that usually comes after. 

“Astrophysics? That’s actually fuckin’ sick.”

Your brows rose in shock, never expecting anyone to respond that way. “Yeah, I like space stuff... I guess...”

You rubbed your forehead at your dull awkwardness and the woman let out another satisfying laugh at your lack of explanation. “That’s one reason to get into it. I like space stuff too. I think constellations are pretty neat.”

You smiled to yourself at her sincerity, and consequently, the thought of stars perked you up in an instance. “Me too! I had the perfect view of Aquila from my backyard growing up.”

“I’m jealous. I struggle connecting them myself, so I just go to that one space museum in the city to look at ‘em. But, fuck, if I could see– I know this is basic, but– if I could see Ursa Major with my own eyes?”

“You haven’t? The Big Dipper is one of the easiest to find.”

She chuckled before she spoke. “You’ll need to help me find it then.”

Help her find it? Lay underneath the stars and connect them with her? It was a very nice thought in your head, but you’re 100% sure she said it without thinking. You expected the previous silence to continue after that until she broke it again.

She was clearly embarrassed by herself, twisting her lips before finally saying something. “My name’s Ellie, by the way.” 

You sheepishly responded with your name and Ellie subtly smiled as she continued to drive down the road. 

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You guys pulled up to the driveway of the mechanic garage. There was a large decal with ‘MILLER AND CO’ over a wrench painted on the metal doors. The area was just as deserted as the road you guys drove on, minus the few farms around now. 

“Is this yours?” You asked.

“Nah, it’s my dad’s. I try to enjoy it like it’s mine though.”

“Has this always been what you’ve wanted to do?” You wondered out loud, only to feel regretful after. You didn’t know her, and you were already asking personal questions. The slim chance she’s suddenly put off by you made you wanna curl into a ball and cry.

“I mean, I always wanted to be an astronaut growing up, but that was never in the cards for me. Things changed when my dad adopted me, I was practically glued to him. I did everything he did.” Ellie freely answered and it dropped your worries instantly. You found her openness incredibly attractive. At that moment, you could feel yourself yearning to learn more about her. “I still love everything about space though, don’t get me wrong.”

“And dinosaur stuff too?” You cheekily queried as you pointed at the rearview chain.

Ellie glanced at the cutesy decor and chuckled. “And dinosaur stuff too.” 

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After getting the cars into the garage, Ellie steps out of the car and walks over to your side. You watched curiously as she strolled to your door and popped it open for you. 

You stared and she stared back expectantly, gesturing for you to hop out. You smiled slightly at that, and Ellie smiled back. God, you could watch her smile for days on end.

“You can sit anywhere, it shouldn’t take too long.” Ellie said as you stepped out, closing the door behind you. 

You turned to face her before continuing the conversation. “Thanks again. Also, err... how much is it gonna run me?” Your teeth clenched a little as you asked. It wasn’t the first thing that you wanted to say, but you weren’t made out of money. I mean, look at what you were driving.

Ellie snorted at your expression and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.” 

In response, you gave a doubtful look. There was no way she was this kind and wanted nothing in return. 

Leaning against the truck door, Ellie playfully rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. This is my good deed for the month.”

“Nothing? Nothing at all?” You quizzed, your brow perking curiously.

“Nothing at all. But if you insist…” She went on, looking off as if she was really changing her mind.

“No! No... Thank you.” You blurted.

You cursed yourself at how vulnerably broke you were being, and Ellie smiled wider than she had before. Once you caught onto that smile, your eyes latched on. It was only natural to stare at her teeth, her lips, wondering how they’d feel on yours; if she’d smile between her kisses. 

You quickly snapped out of it before you spiraled any further, but clearly not fast enough. 

“You have a staring problem, y’know?” Ellie stated, slightly tilting her head as she let her eyes travel over your body. A stare for a stare if you would. 

“I wouldn’t say it’s a staring problem.”

“If it’s not staring, what is it?” She asked with her eyes locked onto yours.

“Admiring?”

Ellie was slightly surprised at your sudden boldness, her smile faltered for a millisecond before quickly returning. 

“Hm, I could say the same.”

She basically confirmed she was also checking you out. Meaning, you had a chance. You looked away as you blushed fiercely, and in the corner of your eye you could see Ellie doing the same.

You don’t know when it started, but the vibe between you two became pleasantly tense. Any previous worries and doubts that Ellie might not like you vanished. You clearly had a chance with her, and you planned to see how far your luck would go. She turned away to clear her throat and pushed off the truck. You decided to move away yourself, finding a nice chair to settle yourself on. 

The spot you sat at put Ellie in your direct line of sight. You should probably call your family and tell them you’d be running late, but you were comfortable where you were. Ellie was incredibly captivating; you wouldn’t mind trailing her with your eyes as she did simple tasks like filling up gas for the rest of your life. She was like a really good fucking movie.

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Thirty minutes into your imaginary film, you thought the picture quality was getting better, but you discerned it was just Ellie getting closer. 

She rubbed her oiled hands off her shirt as she approached you. “Can you help me with something? I j–“

You sprang up to your feet before she could finish speaking. You didn’t need to hear what she had to say next. It wouldn’t hurt for her to see how interested you were.

Ellie went wide-eyed at your eagerness, shaking her head lightly. 

“You could’ve let me finish talking first.” She said with a subtle, taunting smile.

“I didn’t need to. I’m already getting serviced for free, so I’ll gladly do it.”

“Getting serviced, huh?”

You smiled coyly at Ellie as you recognized the implications of her childish repetition before correcting yourself. “I’m already getting helped.”

Ellie retained her smile as she turned back to the car, gesturing for you to follow her with one of her stained hands. You followed her over to the driver’s side of your truck where she knelt down and shifted an arrangement of tools on the cement floor. 

“I need to fix the wiring underneath your car to fix the fuel gauge. If you could hand the tools to me when I ask for ‘em, that’d be great. Can you do that for me?” Ellie questioned in a honeyed voice. She looked up at you, waiting for your answer; a cruel grin barely tugging at the corner of her lips. 

You only nodded as her stare left you too flustered to speak. You knew the intentions from her tone of voice alone and, boy, did it work. She was teasing you again, but even more obvious than the last. 

She fixed a set of tools on a white cloth, setting the toolbox open and nearby as well. You weren’t stupid, you can tell what almost all the tools were. Driving a car you do; it was only a matter of time before you had to do temporary repairs yourself. However, you realized the opportunity you had laid out in front of you, and you were most definitely gonna take it.

Ellie spoke as she retrieved a tool from the box, glancing at you to make sure you were following. Of course, you made sure to pay attention fully. 

Her gorgeous green eyes laid upon your dreamy lash-filled gaze up and you could read the subtle fluster off her face. “This is a ratchet. I.. I’m sure you know that already though.” Whatever you were doing was working and Ellie’s little stammer was evidence.

You looked at the tool and pushed out your full, bottom lip, slightly shaking your head. “Nope. I do now though. What’s next?” You immediately resumed your gaze at Ellie before you could even finish speaking. 

She grinned and it was clear she didn’t believe you, but the look in her eyes had a mischievous glint in them; so you knew it was definitely safe to continue. 

“Alright, princess. This? —“ She paused to pick up another tool mid-sentence, and the break gave you just enough time to process the panty-soaking pet name. “— Is a screwdriver. The pointy end screws things in.” 

You didn’t bother to look at the tool this time, making sure every inch of your face was telling her you wanted her to screw you in. 

“Uh-huh.” You nod with your eyes glued on Ellie’s.

Ellie laughed lightly with a new tone to it. You couldn’t describe it if asked, but you could describe how it made you feel. It took everything for you not to clench your legs together to relieve your now growing pressure.  

“Are you keepin’ up with me?” She said, teasingly. 

You grazed your teeth along your bottom lip, and you hummed in response. Ellie licked hers like an effect from your cause before she continued to school you on the tools she needed. 

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You two engaged in the flirty lesson until it eventually ended, and she left to fetch a garage creeper from a tool station nearby. 

Ellie set it at the side of the truck, where the driver would be, and sat down and laid back on it. You were sitting on the floor by the tools now, so you could easily watch her work. She rolled backwards and underneath the car, adjusting herself on the trolley by sending her hips forward so sexily you wondered if she did it on purpose. In that motion her top rode up a bit and since you were so close, you could ogle up her midriff freely. 

“Screwdriver. Enjoying the view?” Ellie suddenly quizzed.

Without a second thought, you handed her the screwdriver only taking a moment longer to register what she said after.

By now, you felt less embarrassed by Ellie catching you staring since she obviously enjoyed it. “The view? The view is nice.” 

“Just nice?”

“The view is really nice. Amazing, even. It’s a nice area, I might even move here.”

Ellie huffed out the faintest chuckle. “Are we talking about the same thing?”

“We are, don’t worry.”

“Feel free to admire all you want then.” You could tell she was smiling as she said that despite barely being able to see her face.

The light banter you guys shared gave you twinkles all over your body. You wondered where this all might lead to. Perhaps nothing at all, or, as you hoped for, her number at least.

Ellie tosses the screwdriver to your side with a low hum before holding her hand out. “Pass me the torque, please?”

You reached into the toolbox, staring dumbly at the items. It seems you might’ve really needed the walk through after all. Along that tutorial you failed to learn what the hell a torque could be. “Let me try to find it...”

You looked through some more, trying to see what method could help you single out this torque. Meanwhile, Ellie rolled from underneath the car and sat on the creeper, rolling forward and towards you. You were so caught up in Ellie’s request, you failed to notice her presence.

 When you finally chose a tool, Ellie’s hand happened to land onto yours. You and Ellie shot each other surprised glances and Ellie eased the tension with a subtle smile. She pulled her hand away, but not fully nor quickly. Not quickly at all. 

In fact, she lingered like she wanted you to remember how her fingertips felt; slowly sliding her digits up the back of your hand. Just like that, everything felt like it was in slowmo. Everything but your heart, which was beating faster by the second. You knew you had to pull yourself together quickly. This moment could potentially make or break something.

“I found it.” You spoke out so lightly it could be mistaken for a whisper, peering your eyes into Ellie’s green pair. You didn’t have any expectations for what would happen next, but you were practically shaking from anticipation.

“Took you long enough. Do we need to go over it again?” Ellie responded just as low as you spoke. The husk and tease around her words made you clench around nothing, embarrassingly so. 

You didn’t let that stop you, however, letting yourself indulge in her teasing for your own guilty pleasure. “Maybe… What’s this again? A hammer?”

Ellie grinned at your faux naïveté, her head cocking to the side. “I know you’re smarter than that.”

“I just need a quick reminder.” You grinned back as you spoke.

“That’s not what you really want though, is it?” Ellie’s smile faded into a less prominent, yet more seductive one. 

You could swear up and down her eyes flickered down to your lips a couple times, so you naturally started leaning towards her. 

What you failed to realize was that Ellie had already started to lean towards you. She dropped off the creeper, decreasing the distance between you two dramatically. She leaned herself against her hands and spread her legs, leaving you kneeled between them. There were no coherent thoughts in your mind, but you finally had an expectation and that was Ellie’s lips on yours. 

Your lips collided and your eyes fluttered shut. You instantly dropped the torque back in the box and stiffened a bit, not sure if this was really happening or not. However, whether it was real or not, you wanted to do a good job. 

The kiss started off slow, testing the waters. Ellie’s smooth, gentle lips made you feel tipsy along with that smell you loved blocking your senses. You were completely intoxicated.

Ellie slid her palm on your hip and gradually roamed the small of your back. The sudden touch shot electricity through your body. She was balancing herself on one hand now, but she attentively stayed on your lips. You couldn’t stop the greed for more rushing through your core even if you wanted to. You placed your hand on the nape of her neck, desperately bringing her in to deepen the kiss. 

You could feel the grin etched into her lips and it only drove you further. She obliged to your wishes and parted your lips against hers with minimal effort, easily intruding the tip of her tongue between. Your tongues slid and ran across each other sensually, and the messiness of it all had you sopping where you knelt. Too lost in the moment, you accidentally let a low moan escape. If Ellie couldn’t tell how needy you were, she could tell now. 

She slowly broke away from your lips, and it left you both panting heavily. Your face, confused, and hers, studying. Did you turn her off? Did you do too much when she was probably expecting something less? You tried to avoid her eyes, too disappointed with yourself to look.

Ellie didn’t let the eye-contact break, following your eyes with a worried expression. “Hey, hey... It’s alright. You’re not in trouble.” Ellie said, letting out a cruel laugh at the end.

You frowned at the teasing this time and your embarrassment was even more evident.

Ellie took your expression in consideration as she leaned in to peck the corner of your lips. The gesture eased your worries, but you were unsure of how this would turn out. She gave you a brief smile before finally saying, “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

You nodded your head slowly and Ellie frowned at it. “I need words.” She said, more sternly than you’d expect. 

She was quick to get a few words out of you. “I… I want this.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” She replied, leaning in to connect lips with yours again. You didn’t realize how much you missed that contact until you felt chills run through your body. 

You missed her lips on yours despite only kissing for so long. The hand Ellie had placed on your back drifted lower and grasped your ass, earning a moan from you, which Ellie took great pleasure in hearing and feeling. 

By now, your knees were starting to hurt, and it took a lot of restraints not to topple over Ellie. However, you refused to move your lips from hers, you just got them back. 

Unfortunately, Ellie must’ve noticed your stubborn shuffling since she pulled away despite your muffled protests. 

“Let’s move somewhere more comfortable.”

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Ellie cracked open the door for you to a small lounge space and placed a quick apologetic kiss on your lips before walking off. She had noticed her handprint smudged on your shorts on the way to the lounge and it reminded her that she had to wash the car grime off before doing anything more with you. At this point you were so pent up you probably wouldn’t mind. You decided not to dwell on what risks you’re willing to take to fuck Ellie and sat yourself on a brown couch that felt a lot comfier than it looked. The vibe of the room was similar to Ellie’s car minus the smell of weed. Speaking of smells, it smelled just like her. 

Thoughts of Ellie panting and briefly taking your lips between her teeth flashed through your mind. The vividness, considering it just happened, made the heat between your legs increase. You instinctively pressed your thighs together and fought the urge to take care of yourself right there and then. 

Thankfully, Ellie strolled into the lounge and shut the door behind her, and it finished with a lock click. Your eyes met as she strolled towards you, plopping on the couch next to you.

Ellie opened her mouth to say something, but you didn’t want to hear it. Not right now. You cupped her face and pressed your lips into hers and you shut her up instantly. She leaned over you, pressing you back into the couch. Amidst the smacking and passion of your mouths against each other’s, Ellie’s hand drifted up your waist; thumbing along your skin. Everything was so hot and cloudy now; you couldn’t think about anything other than how good you feel. 

At some point, Ellie’s leg was kneeled, and her thigh was wedged between your legs. You only became aware of the new positioning after accidentally pressing yourself against her. You were laid down on the couch, completely dazed with Ellie hovering over you. She noticed you coming back to reality and grinned smugly as she moved her hand underneath your top and groped at your breast. You arched into her touch, keening, and Ellie rewarded the sound by rubbing her thigh against your clothed clit. 

You gasped sharply and the brief friction had you bucking for more. Your barely audible pleas must’ve triggered something in Ellie as she bent down to kiss you, taking your lips between her teeth. The feeling is even better than you remembered.

The intensity of the kiss is wet, hot, and you can’t remember when you last took a breath. You placed your arms over Ellie’s shoulders and lightly ran your fingertips along her back, rolling your hips into Ellie’s thigh. You were so close, so close until.. you suddenly lost contact. Ellie moved her right hand to your hip, gently pinning you down so you couldn’t move as she placed her thigh out of reach. 

She has pulled away from you too often and you weren’t going to back down quietly this time. You broke off from her kiss-swollen lips, rather reluctantly, and begged. “Ellie! Please… just—” 

Ellie shushed you and whispered directly into your ear, her breath hitting your cheek and sending shivers down your spine. “I’m gonna fuck you myself. Be patient.” 

You weren’t gonna argue. You wanted that. You wanted her. Ellie moved her hand from your hips and went to loosen the button of your shorts. She moved her legs so that yours were fully between hers. You unwrapped your arms from her shoulders and helped her tug your shorts down urgently, lifting your hips to speed the process. 

Ellie positioned herself so she could tuck your knees in. She parted your legs and leaned back, taking a moment to appreciate how wet you were for her; your slick heat coating your underwear, glistening, all for her to see. It would’ve embarrassed you in any other instance, but you were so filled with lust, none of it mattered. 

She pressed her thumb against your clit, through your undoubtedly soaked panties and peered down at your face: brows furrowed and brimming with want. Ellie wasn’t gonna make you wait any longer. She moved the fabric out of the way and finally rubbed your bare clit with the pad of her thumb. You panted heavily, moving into her touch. 

Ellie leaned towards you, turning her wrist clockwise and dipping her fingers between your folds, rubbing your labia between her middle and ring digits. You groaned out and quickly pulled up your top and tugged your bra underneath your tits so you could grasp at the sensitive area. 

Your wetness coated Ellie’s fingers perfectly and it was only a matter of time before she fucked you with them senselessly. She coaxed your clit between her fingers, and although you were too wet for much friction, the pressure was just enough to get you there. 

You fondled and squeezed at your chest, pinching at your nipples as your eyes clenched shut; concentrating on that release you needed so badly. Ellie was practically salivating at the sight, still hunched over you and getting off from the look of you alone. 

Your much anticipated orgasm rolled through you, crashing in like a wave. You moaned loudly, arching your back and rolling your hips forward.

 Ellie slowed down and helped you ride out your orgasm before suddenly slipping both fingers into your entrance. The sudden intrusion made you whine, and Ellie dipped down and pressed a kiss on your cheek. Your eyes were brimming with tears, but you needed her to move. You needed her to fuck you badly. 

You squirmed under Ellie and she placed her free hand on the cheek she kissed, thumbing along it as she cooed at you teasingly. “Shhh.. You’re gonna ruin the makeup you fixed just for me.”

Ellie’s thumb creeped towards your swollen and gloss-less bottom lip, the aftermath of rough, sloppy kissing. You mouthed out a ‘whoops’ and faked a pout. 

Ellie laughed as she gazed down at you. The sight of her flushed red, freckled cheeks smiling down at you only made you want her more. Ellie felt your need squeeze against her fingers, and she made sure that you knew she knew by glancing down at her fingers filling your cunt. She bit her bottom lip and decided to give you what you wanted, slowly pumping her fingers in you. 

You keened colorfully, raising your tucked knees and wrapping your legs around Ellie’s waist. You needed her deep. She picked up her pace and curled her fingers, hitting that soft wall. She was doing everything right, there was no doubt in your mind she was an angel, a sexually experienced one at that. You pulled her down, meeting her halfway so you crash your lips into hers. 

Ellie moaned over your lips and, god, you were so close. She slid a third finger in you, pumping and curling her fingers; knuckles deep. You were so close you were seeing stars, it made you think back on the little conversation you two had in the car and you wondered if this is what she meant. Then just like that they fucking connected. 

You cried out as you came, tightening your legs around Ellie’s waist as you gushed over her fingers. She kept her fingers in you until you finished. Once Ellie pulled out, you groaned from the loss and she muttered out an apology.

You gave her one lingering kiss before plopping back down. You were utterly exhausted and aching. Aching... pleasantly, but that wasn’t the point. Your mind slowly started recollecting everything that happened. You were just fucked by a hot stranger you met in a town you still don’t know the name of.  You’re not sure you would’ve remembered after this anyways. 

“Usually I would help clean up, but...” Ellie gestured around her. You almost forgot you guys were at the back of a mechanic’s garage. 

You snickered and nodded understandingly. “Right. I know.”

You two stared at each other awkwardly despite what occurred not even five minutes ago. Ellie ruffled with her hair before speaking out, “So… Can I take you out sometime? When your trip is over?”

You pushed up so you were at eye-level with her. “I... I think we’re past that, but yes. Yes, you can.” You leaned in for a kiss and she returned it with a grin.

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[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 3

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), praise kink? WC: 6.7k AN: y'all i am SO proud of this chapter!! i'm so so so excited for you all to read it, i loved writing it so much. thank you all so so so much for the love you have been giving this fic, it means the absolute world to me. requests and asks open, as always!

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, [Ch. 3], Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6

Chapter 3: Bonding

In the morning, you woke up slowly, with the taste of night-old beer and regret in your mouth. And also a splitting headache. But your bed was really warm, much warmer than usual, and you snuggled into the covers for another minute. Just one more. And then you realized that it wasn't the covers you were snuggling into, but a person. A person who had their arms wrapped around you. The memories surged back--Anakin, the loud music, truth or dare, kissing him, straddling him, his body against yours. You patted his arm a few times, suddenly completely awake. He let out a low noise of annoyance, but you kept tapping him.

"Five more minutes," he groaned, deeper and gruffer than usual. In that voice, you could hardly refuse him. Five more minutes, fine. With his nearness, warm and stable against you, your heart was beating at a thousand miles an hour. You thought back to the night before, how hard he was for you and how smooth and warm his skin had been under your fingers when you teased below his shirt. Those thoughts would have made you horny beyond belief--fuck you right then and there, maybe--but you had the joy of a massive headache that blocked all of those fun thoughts. The light was too bright to close your eyes and drift off, so all you could do was turn around, awkwardly shifting underneath his arm, to look at him.

Anakin had little freckles on his cheekbones, you realized when you looked at him up close. When his face was completely relaxed like this, he had a kind of ethereal serenity about him. You feared that, if you didn't hold him tightly enough, he'd run away and jump into the sea like a selkie, never to be seen again. He was almost inhuman in that moment, all sharp angles and full lips. The morning light kissed his skin like it came from some radiance within him. He wasn't just handsome in the college-jock kind of way, he was truly and deeply beautiful, you realized.

Calling this Anakin a dumbass, an asshole, or a motherfucker felt just wrong. It would be like calling the stars in the sky boring. Laughably silly. With his jaw slack from sleep, he was a marvel, a gift from nature itself, molded and crafted into a careful, wonderous machine of blood, feelings, and thoughts. And he was laying there with you. If this Anakin wanted the prize, the money, the job, whatever, you would give it over in a heartbeat. All of that just didn't matter in this moment. And that was terrifying.

As quickly as you could, you tried to ground yourself in what was really important to you. Creating something meaningful. Winning. You reminded yourself all the times Anakin called your work amateurish, or the way he still denied damaging Barriss's bot. The way he'd raise his hand to argue that your answer was wrong in lecture during second year. Other images flashed in, unbidden. Anakin's kind eyes when he realized you were upset, before your first kiss. Anakin's sweet voice last night, full of respect for you. The way his teammates obviously respected him. You willed your mind to go back to his smug smile and the way he hogged the soldering station.

Anakin shifted a bit, then opened his bleary eyes to the morning light. It wasn't that late, you knew based on the fact that Ahsoka hadn't pounded down your door, but it was a Sunday, so maybe she didn't intend to. You reached for your phone on your nightstand, which was mercifully alive but hanging on for dear life at 3%. There was a text message from Ahsoka.

Slept over at TKD on the couch, heard u got home safe! ;) Go get some!

Ah. So she clearly thought you and Anakin had fucked. Not that you minded, really. Even if he was an asshole, or if you felt however you did about him, he was still hot. You definitely intended to screw his brains out as soon as you felt better. You tapped him again.

"Mmm, good morning," he mumbled out, "what time is it?" You clicked on your phone.

"11:55," you told him. He bolted upright.

"Shit, we slept through breakfast," he said. He was right, you had. Not that you got breakfast much. You shrugged. Anakin's eyes passed over you, catching your mussed hair, the smudges of mascara surrounding your eyes, and last night's now disheveled dress, then appeared to realize that he was, indeed, pantsless in your bed.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was hushed, tentative. He wasn't saying it outright, but you both knew the question was actually do you regret last night? You took a moment before answering him, trying to find the most correct phrasing for how you felt about it. About him.

"Honestly, I--" you started. His eyes widened, and he read into your hesitation a bit too much. Anakin got out of bed instantly, a gesture that would have been more dignified if he didn't have to shimmy out of the comforter and then hop over you to do so. The lack of his warm weight behind you made you feel oddly empty.

"I knew it, I'm so sorry. I'll leave now, I just--" Anakin said as he grabbed his jeans and started putting them on. Were you imagining it, or was he flushed red in embarrassment? It was kind of cute.

"God, you're stupid. Get back here," you said, motioning for him to come back. Anakin paused, his jeans pulled halfway up, then caught your eye. Based on your annoyance, he sensed that this probably wasn't a get-away-from-me type of conversation, so he finished putting his jeans on and buttoning them, then sat down on the edge of your bed. He was still tentative, like if he said or did the wrong thing, this moment would disappear. Anakin perched carefully on the edge of your bed, as far from you as mathematically possible. He probably had run calculations in his head, you thought.

"I was just saying that I'm too hungover, but we should still… Just not right now. My head is killing me." As you spoke, a smile grew on his face, but then he tried to hide it by pressing his lips together, an effect you would have thought worked better if he wasn't so horrible at it.

"Oh," he said, still obviously elated, but then his expression turned to concern, and he scooched an inch closer to you. "Do you have any Tylenol, or, like, electrolytes here?" You shook your head, and he rolled his eyes. "Of course not." He didn't seem to think you capable of planning in advance, which flared annoyance inside you, but you decided to tamp it down. For now.

"Nah, I think I just need water and food. I'm gonna head down to lunch once I get dressed, then the lab," you told him through a yawn.

"Already? You practically live there," he laughed. Nerd, his tone cried.

"Big words from someone who is always there before me," you said reflexively. The retort had come out of your mouth as easily as breathing, and you hoped he didn't hate you for it.

"Touche," he said, though there wasn't any annoyance in it, just a smile. A silence fell between the two of you, and, unlike most times, it was comfortable. You weren't fuming, which was definitely a new one. Anakin looked down at his hands resting on his thighs, then seemed to work up the courage to say something.

"Look, before you go downstairs, can we talk? Actually talk?" What on Earth did that mean?

"You go first," you said. What did he want to talk about? As far as you were concerned, your positions were clear. Maybe you'd fuck tonight, maybe not, and then he'd be out of your system. You could get back to work. Something twinged in your chest, but it was from your hangover.

"Okay, so, um. I think you know that, even though you're literally the worst, I am… attracted to you. Somehow. And that I'd like to, y'know. Do stuff. I just feel weird about it because of the competition," Anakin said. His confession that he was attracted to you stirred something inside you, but you ignored it.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, like, I don't know about you, but if we… did things. I think I'd feel more upset if you won. Not that you will, to be clear, but if someone sabotaged my project and cut off my hands, you might have a shot." You snorted, then smacked his shoulder. He held up his hands, defensively, but he was grinning from ear to ear.

"But, I think I'd also feel weird when I win. You've been really helpful. At staying late so that I can use machines, to be clear. So I've been thinking, we're engineers, right? And, most of what we do is optimize. So why don't we optimize this competition? Maybe we could split the prize money. Because if I don't win, you do, and I need that money. Like, really need. And I'd rather get something than nothing at all if you win, and, for that insurance, I'm willing to let you have some of my prize money. And, in exchange, we help each other as much as possible to make sure that the two of us get first and second place."

Initially, you bristled. Giving away some of your hard-earned prize? That motherfucker was trying to take away from your victory. But, then again, with the way your tests were going now, there was no certainty that you'd be able to produce a working prototype by March. And, if you didn't, he'd probably win. Souring his win just a little would probably feel really good, you reasoned, given how full of himself he was now. The idea wasn't horrible, you thought. You decided to be honest, even though it almost killed you.

"You'll only hear me say this once--and don't you dare tell fucking anyone--but I don't know if I'll win. It's probably rigged in your favor, anyway." You ignored the indignant "hey!" Anakin let out, and continued. "So sure. That works for me."

You held out your right hand for him to shake. The sight was probably hilarious, given that you were still in bed with last night's dress and last night's makeup, but you were deadly serious. Anakin shook your hand, still smiling, and then pulled you up.

"C'mon, get dressed. Don't wanna miss lunch, too, or else we'll never see the lab in the daytime!"

Two hours later, you found yourself on the shuttle to the engineering building. You'd probably walk back long after the shuttle system stopped running, so you wanted to spare yourself one walk in the biting cold. Anakin was sitting next to you--the two of you and Ahsoka had eaten together, and you had spent most of the time getting questioning glances from her. His thigh was warm against yours in the cramped shuttle seats, and you caught him smiling at you once, which made your heart flutter.

You were not alone in the lab. You decided not to question why that was disappointing. On the upside, you got to see Barriss, who was in the corner of the lab, tapping something out on her phone. When she saw you, she came up to you and asked you about how you were doing, and you answered honestly. Tired.

Asajj was on the other side of the room and shot you a glance, but you ignored it. She wasn't your favorite member of the engineering department, but she was an environmental engineer. Not your circus. In the few classes you'd shared, she was kind of a bitch, actually. Barely acknowledged you. She narrowed her eyes at Anakin when he followed you into the lab.

You kept chatting with Barriss for a while, catching up. You felt like you hadn't seen her in ages, especially since she got a job working as an admin assistant for the department. She told you about her new idea for a thesis, some sort of collapsible electric bicycle, and how she was trying to make a better replacement for electric scooters. She pulled up her chair to sit next to your lab bench while you tinkered with your prototype, peppering in some questions about it. You lied through your teeth. It was going great, actually. You were more than on track. You had passed your initial tests with flying colors. Right as she was about to leave, you had worked up the nerve to say the truth, that you were terrified of how it was going. She would be the only person you'd ever admit that to--God knows you wouldn't tell Anakin.

Well, actually, now that you were in your agreement, maybe you could. The idea made you feel scared, honestly. What if he sent you on a wild goose chase? While you were thinking, Barriss said goodbye and rushed off to go get a late lunch, leaving just you, Anakin, and Asajj in the lab.

Now that Barriss was gone, you let yourself deflate. Pretending to do something productive while she watched killed you a little bit, and you found yourself not wanting to do anything else today. Maybe eat some pasta and sleep. Anakin came up to your bench a few times, checking to see how stuff was going, but you weren't really feeling up to engaging with him. You fended off his questions for several hours as you agonized over your failed test, checking the software's code over and over. It still worked on all the test cases other than the one where it really mattered, the one that took it from being a model on your computer to a device that looked at real, physical eyes. Sometime right before dinner, Anakin came up to your desk again, looking frustrated.

"Hey," his voice was low, so that Asajj couldn't hear. "Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

"Why do you want me to?" You couldn't help it. You were being defensive, and you felt guilty the moment the words left your lips. His eyebrows furrowed.

"Because…" he trailed off, expression inscrutable, then continued after a moment, "We promised to help each other. I just want to help, honest." You studied his completely earnest face, so open. You faltered, for a moment. Even though you'd had that nice conversation earlier, you couldn't help but still see his face biting out a mean comment, or his sweet smile when he told you the circuit design you had drawn in freshman year for your final project looked fine, even though it had glaring errors. You could handle this on your own. Maybe, just maybe, if you got desperate, you could ask him. But not right now.

"I--It's fine. I think I just need to work on it a bit more." That seemed to placate him, all the way until you told him that you were going to go back home, to have dinner and study, then call it a night. He gave you that same inscrutable expression, which was kind of starting to annoy you, and wished you luck.

You, in fact, did have dinner, but you couldn't study. The equations swam in front of your eyes, all of them turning into questions of focal distance and refraction. You tried for two hours, and it was nine already, so you decided to switch tasks. Maybe now you would make some progress on your thesis.

And, so, the minutes ticked past as you sat alone in your bedroom, flipping through pages and googling random things like "refraction of printer paper." Ahsoka was studying for some exam she had tomorrow, and she said she'd be out late at the library, so you had room to spread out. You found yourself pouring cups of tea in the kitchen more often than was technically productive, and, more than a couple of times, you wanted to throw your prototype against a wall.

It was 11 when you caved and texted Anakin for help. It had been almost a week since you had this issue, and you were really getting to be behind, so this qualified as desperate. And if he was going to make fun of you, so be it. You cringed a bit when you saw that his contact name was still Asshole, a change made in anger in junior year when he called your group project idea the most boring thing he'd ever heard.

You: U up?

Asshole: bffr did you actually just send me a u up text Asshole: yes i am up

You: Can you come over? You: To help with an optics question

Asshole: yes Asshole: be there in 10

You: Thank you

Asshole: course

You changed his contact name back to Anakin. He deserved that much, at least. And, in the ten minutes before he came, you changed into some kind of lacy set of lingerie you'd bought the last time you went clubbing. Just in case. When you were with Anakin, there was always a chance things would go there, even if you called him over for a math issue. You threw your favorite comfortable pair of shorts back on, along with a loose Coruscant U shirt.

When he arrived, looking upsettingly hot in the bomber jacket, white t-shirt, and jeans he was wearing, you led him to your room, trying not to imagine the other reasons you might bring him there at night. Once he understood what your project was trying to do, his fingers scrolled the code you had written. He asked the right questions about various modules you'd used, then turned his attention to the hardware. He re-ran the tests, then grabbed your prototype and moved your detector around the room a bit.

Twenty minutes later, he had a diagnosis.

"I'm afraid the reason your machine doesn't work is that… you're stupid."

"What?" If you didn't need his help so badly, you would have smacked him.

"Yeah, look. First of all, you're getting a false negative from the fact that your code says to output a 'no glaucoma' response whenever it doesn't see glaucoma. So you could point it at the wall and it'd tell you that it doesn't have glaucoma, because, technically, it doesn't. And it's not reading either of these images accurately because, look, when you hold the paper like this," he lifted it up at a diagonal, "you can see that there's some reflection of light off the ink you used to print it. There isn't that in the training images you showed it, so it doesn't read it right. I bet if you did this whole thing on an actual eye with glaucoma, not a printed picture, you'd be fine," he said. "You've spent so much time hooking up the camera that you didn't spend enough time on making a good test, that's all. And, also, you need to make sure there's a way for the program to recognize whether something is an eye or not. That would also be helpful."

A certain calm took over him when he started explaining, like you saw in him when he was doing something particularly difficult. Those were the moments you found him most attractive, and, right now, the first time he was helping you for no other reason than that you asked, you thought this might be the most attractive you've seen him. His hands, gesturing. His eyes, sparkling. I want to kiss him. The thought propelled you to stand up, so that you were closer to his height.

"Thank you, Anakin. I mean it. As much as it hurts to admit… you're probably right," you said. After a beat, you continued, your voice lower than before. "And I'm really glad you came tonight." The confession slipped out of your lips like a secret, quick and quiet. Anakin's body was so close to you, you could have pressed yourself against him if you just leaned forward.

"You're welcome," he said in the same husky tone, his gaze flitting from your eyes to your lips. The air was charged with something, some kind of magnetic pull between the two of you. His softness toward you was new, exciting. Your hand reached out, brushing his wrist before finding his hand. When his eyes widened and he shuddered out a breath, it was like a jolt of lightning. He wanted you, badly. So badly even you could tell. The previous times you had done this, it'd been the heat of the moment driving you. Now, you weren't sure how to get from here to making him horny. This was soft, almost romantic, not angry and sexy and intense. What could you say?

"So, um. Wanna watch something?" Your suggestion was a little bit stupid, but Anakin's lips pressed together as he tried to subdue giggles. He failed, and started full-on cackling. You felt your whole face get warm from embarrassment. Well, damn. There goes that.

"Did you really actually for real just ask me to Netflix and chill with a straight face?" He was almost wiping away tears, apparently. Jesus Christ, you were just trying to break the ice. You smacked his upsettingly hard chest in annoyance.

"Stop laughing! Or else I'll--" you were trying to find some threat, something to say that would actually get him to shut up, when he jumped in.

"You'll what? What are you gonna do about it?" Something in his voice morphed, mocking, and though he was smiling, it reminded you more of the expression an animal makes before catching its prey. Self-satisfied. Smug. So, so fucking handsome.

You didn't need another second before you slammed into him, kissing him with a kind of fever you had only imagined. He'd been riling you up for days, weeks, months at this point, and you were finally going to get him inside you. Your hands found their way into his hair while he pulled you to him by your lower back. When you gently tugged, he let out a little noise deep in his throat and started nudging you toward the bed. The effect you had on him was overpowering, addicting. And, if you were being honest, he was riling you up just as much. His thumbs were playing with the skin that was directly under your tank top, sending little fires to your core.

You finally reached the bed, still kissing sloppily, and then he pushed you down onto it before connecting your lips again and climbing over you. Though he was hovering over you, supported by his arms, Anakin kept his hips just out of reach. You horribly, horribly wanted to feel that hardness pressing against you again. You trailed your hands down his chest, all the way until you reached the button of his jeans. You ghosted your hand over his length, trapped against him in his jeans, and he let out a hiss of air.

"Be patient," he said, going back down to kiss you. He notably didn't remove your hand, but you decided there was something else you'd like to explore first, anyway. As he slipped his tongue into your mouth, you moved your hand up his shirt, running your fingers everywhere they could reach. He was taut and warm, so smooth as you felt the divots of his stomach and the clenched muscles in his chest. You knew he was an athlete, but he was properly built in a lean and strong sort of way. You could have sworn you felt abs under your hand, which was only confirmed when he quickly pulled away from you, then shrugged off his shirt. Anakin could have been carved from marble. Even though you were drunk on him, a piece of you recognized the same otherworldly sense from that morning. Like a statue of Apollo had broken out of stone and stepped into your life, still above you and staring down with such intensity that it made you shiver.

His hands came up under your tank top, sliding up your stomach before they reached your bra. Tentative, warm fingers slipped under the wire and grazed the bottom of your breasts. A positively embarrassing moan slipped out of you. He chuckled against your neck and brought his hands further up until his fingertips traced your nipples. The moan that followed was even needier, and you didn't even care.

"Stop teasing me, Anakin, please take it off," you whined, pressing your chest up into his hands and lifting your arms above your head. He didn't need to be asked twice, and slipped one hand behind your back to unclip your bra--with some ease, which surprised you. Everyone you'd been with before had struggled at least a bit, but apparently Anakin was a natural. You briefly wondered how many other people he'd slept with, but you abandoned the thought when jealousy flared in you. Anakin then brought his hands back down to the hem of your tank top before pulling it off above you, then gently guiding the straps of your bra down, finally exposing you. His eyes over you, hungry, starving.

"Fuck, you're so pretty. You have no idea what you do to me," he groaned before leaning down to your collarbone and trailing wet kisses down until he reached your nipple. His wet, warm tongue darted out to circle your sensitive skin. His right hand came up to play with the other, pinching and pulling and twisting until you were mewling. Then, he let his mouth trail even lower, kissing down until he was right above the drawstring of your shorts.

"Can I take these off, baby?" He was looking up at you with that smirk, the one that meant he knew you wouldn't say no. Of course you wouldn't. You nodded feverishly, and he undid your shorts and drew them down your legs. As he did so, the word stuck in your head. Baby. Did he mean that? Either way, you weren't going to question the way it slicked your pussy. Your shorts landed somewhere at the foot of the bed, but you didn't care. You were too busy watching Anakin take in the lacy underwear you had on.

"Damn. Do you have someone else coming over, or was this all for me?" His tone was light, but he was looking at your pussy like a man possessed. He was practically drooling.

"Shut up, Skywalker, and just take them off." He did so, happily, hooking his fingers under the waistband and drawing them down your legs until they were all the way off. If you thought he was staring before, he was practically glued to you now. One of his hands came up to rub your upper thigh before he drew it closer, inward. By the time he got close your pussy, you were thrusting up and trying to get him to touch you, rub you, finger you, whatever. As long as he put his hand on you, you'd stop feeling so sensitive and needy. But then his finger trailed up to your other knee, perfectly skipping your pussy. That motherfucker. You groaned, and you swore you could hear him chuckle. Asshole.

"Look how soaked you are. Is this all for me?" He was sin itself, a demon sent from hell to tempt you. Well, it was working. You nodded. There wasn't any shame or anger left, just a desperate need to be touched where you wanted it. Needed it.

He trailed one finger to your clit, then ran it down the rest of your slit, letting it linger right on the opening of your pussy. He tapped it once, twice, and it made a wet slapping sound that would have made you a little embarrassed had you been less turned on. But this was Anakin, and he was clearly enjoying this as much as you were, if the rock-hard outline in his jeans was any indication.

Anakin slid the finger inside you and groaned at the feeling of your pussy clenching down on him as he curled it upward. His thumb came to play with your clit, and you blurted out his name. His eyes shot to you as he took in a ragged breath. So he liked it when you said his name, got it.

And then he lowered his mouth onto your clit, and his name came out of you immediately. When his tongue started moving, fast and warm, rubbing little circles into your clit, you started chanting his name like a prayer. He added another finger inside you, stimulating you everywhere. Your hands tangled into his hair. This had to be the best head you'd ever gotten, you realized. The last person to go down on you was probably your boyfriend in junior year, and he was sloppy and got tired quickly. It almost felt like he couldn't wait for it to stop. Anakin, on the other hand, ate you like it was worship. You could tell he was reading you, then changing what he was doing when he saw a good reaction he wanted to repeat. If there was a movement you liked, he would find it and do it again and again until your legs shook.

Words spilled out of you. Telling him how good it felt, how much you wanted him. Things you would never say, only think, if he wasn't destroying you. You thanked your lucky stars Ahsoka was out, because not even three walls between you would be able to muffle your moans. You grabbed his hair particularly viciously as you were getting close, and he groaned against you before somehow getting even faster with his tongue, finally bringing you over the edge. Pleasure washed over you, and the world was still for a moment before the first wave of your orgasm hit. And, when it hit, you let out a moan so loud you were sure the neighbors could hear. You didn't even try to hide it from Anakin, who could definitely feel you twitching and clenching around his fingers.

"Fuuuuuuck, baby. You look so pretty when you cum," he said as he pulled away a bit, before pressing a kiss against your inner thigh while your legs shook around him. You caught your breath, but your pussy was still hungry. Demanding. Anakin got up from between your legs, still panting, his chin covered in a combination of spit and pussy juice. You took a mental snapshot for later reference. His eyes were so wild, and you knew you were about to get fucked like never before. Anakin was back over you, and you reached out your hand to the hard flesh that was practically bursting out of his jeans. As soon as you grazed it, he grunted, looking you straight in the eyes.

"You want it?" You nodded as fast as you can. Anakin smirked in that way that usually pissed you off, but now it just made you wetter. "Tell me how bad," he commanded. You didn't know where the words came from, but, once they started, they didn't stop.

"Fuck me, please Anakin. Please. I've waited so long and--I, Fuck. I need you inside me, more than anything in the whole fucking world, please," you begged. His jaw clenched as he smiled, obviously satisfied by your answer. He popped open the button of his jeans before undoing the fly and pulling both them and his boxers off in one go.

His cock almost made you drool, and you vowed to have it in your mouth next time. You'd had this one boyfriend, and you had sworn to all your friends that he was the biggest you'd ever had, seven inches. Anakin blew him out of the water. He was at least eight, if not more, and girthy enough that you wondered if you could even wrap your lips around him. The light skin of his shaft had purple and blue veins that snaked upward, and you longed to taste them. He was leaking a bead of precum, which he smeared across his head with his thumb.

Anakin turned around and pulled a condom out of his jeans. Had he planned this? Did he come here, knowing, hoping that you two would finally fuck? He obviously caught your weird look, and looked at you with knowing eyes.

"What, did you think I didn't know exactly why you wanted me here tonight?" Anakin chuckled, and you had the good decency to look a little bit embarrassed, but he rejoined you on the bed quickly enough that it didn't really matter.

"Damn, you look fucking amazing like this," he breathed, a little bit wonderous as he looked down at you, your legs spread for him. He situated himself between your legs, then wasted no time teasing you before he thrust into you with a loud moan. You let out a strangled sound, finally full to the brim with his cock, which was hitting parts of you that your fingers never could. And then he moved, and every nerve in your body was on fire. Your jaw opened, slack, as he pressed his forehead to yours and drilled into you. You were so wet from his spit that everything was sliding just right.

"Shit, you feel so fucking good. I'm not gonna last at this rate," he grunted out as he sped up.

"I don't care, Anakin, just fuck me," you moaned out. His hips slammed into yours, finally giving you what you'd been fantasizing about when you were alone. You relished the way his eyes squeezed shut, the hot breaths he huffed out, trying to stave off his release. He was fast and efficient, but listened to your reactions as he fucked you, adjusting angles until you were making the loudest noises you had that night. It felt like he was stretching you out, filling you up until there was no more air left in your body. Then, suddenly, he pulled out, leaving you empty and wanting.

"Ride me," he growled. You scrambled to sit up, and he sat himself up against your headboard so that you were in his lap. Using your tired thighs, you lifted yourself up just enough for him to slip back in, which he did with ease as you both let out moans. You started raising and lowering your hips on him, working your way slowly so that he was fully inside you. From this angle, he was even deeper, if that was possible. Anakin's hands came up to grab your ass, squeezing it and occasionally giving it a gentle smack. You sped up, and words started tumbling out of his lips.

"Fuck, you don't know how much I wanted to do this at that stupid fucking party. You looked so fuckin' hot, I almost came when you sat on me," he confessed before letting out a particularly loud moan. You thought back to the way he was looking at you at the party, and it was the same glare he was casting you now. Like he'd give anything to be with you, like he was desperate for you. And he was. He kept repeating your name and how good he felt as you bounced on him.

"Shit, baby, I'm close," he gritted out. You could see it in the way his eyes squeezed, his brow furrowed, and his arms clenched around you. Your thighs burned, but you got faster. You were going to make him cum as hard as you possibly could. Soon enough, his breathing got faster, louder, letting moans fall from his lips freely. Then, he came so powerfully you swore you could feel it too. His hips twitched and jerked up into you as spurt after spurt shot out of him and into the condom. He threw his head back against your headboard, scrunching his eyes shut and moaning out your name. You could feel every twitch of his cock, every jump of his muscles under you. It was joy itself.

Once he finished cumming, you lifted yourself up and let his cock slide out of you. He was still panting, flushed and sweaty, but he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you to him. Your head was resting against his chest, his left arm around you, as he pulled off the condom and tied it off, tossing it into your bedside trash. Both of you were a little bit more recovered, but your voice was still hoarse when you spoke.

"Fuck, that was amazing," you said. And it was. It really, truly was the best sex you had ever had. Anakin seemed equally as happy when he looked down at you with that soft, tender look in his eye.

"Really?" You gave him a little mhmm before he continued, "I feel bad I came so early. It's just, it's been a while for me." The confession came quickly. Like he almost wasn't sure whether to say it, but you were glad he did. You felt the same way.

"Me too, like six months. You?" The hand on his chest traced patterns across his stomach.

"Two years," he answered, like it was nothing.

"What?!" You expected him to say a month or two, maybe three at maximum. How could a guy who fucked that well stay celibate for that long? There was no way this was his first time back after so long. It was just impossible. He obviously saw the shock on your face, then elaborated.

"Yeah, since I broke up with my ex, I just… haven't found someone I wanted to do it with." Anakin was gazing at you with such affection that, for just a second, you thought it might be love.

"Until me." You didn't know where the words came from, but he didn't seem to mind. Part of you just wanted to hear him confirm it.

"Until you," he added as he gave your forehead a kiss. You lay there, your legs entwined and your hand rubbing patterns on his stomach while his pet your hair, in a happy, contented silence. The minutes passed, and his breathing slowed back to normal, but the look he was giving you didn't change. It was terrifying. You found yourself saying something to cut off the thought.

"Hey, you wanna know something funny?" You asked. Anakin, entangled in you, cast you a questioning look.

"What?"

"Check the pocket of my pants," you said. He pulled his arm out from under you, then got out of the bed and found your shorts behind your chair. From their right pocket, he pulled out a condom, and then burst out laughing. You joined him, and, in the moment, you felt like you were on the same team, the two of you against the world. The feeling only intensified when he kissed your forehead, still smiling.

"I'm gonna go get us something to clean up. Be back in a second," he said as he pulled on his boxers and pants again, before leaving the room to go find your bathroom.

He returned a few minutes later with a towel, soft and warm under his fingers. One of your washcloths, which he'd run under warm water to keep it comfortable. As he cleaned you up, then waited for you to use the bathroom, you wondered when he became so caring. So considerate and sweet. But maybe he had been that way the whole time, you thought as he put his arm around you in the bed. His skin against yours felt amazing, even better than it did during sex. For the first time, as you drifted off with your head against his chest, you wondered if being with him like this could happen more often. Maybe all the time. And then the words slipped from your mind, like footprints in sand on a beach, before you finally fell asleep.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @skywalkercinema @throughparisallthroughrome @anak1ns-wife @radiantvader @eloquenceinpurple @rosekillerdaughter @doblasftcisco @rhiannonhippiegirl @mistress-amidala @mortalheartache @xorilixx @sunnytotheend @olivia091108 @aniiuv @sotal3rsa @springnaiad @bettysgardenswift @ursogorgeous13 @avalovesjoe1 @anibeaar @anisluvrgirl @johnbassplayercutie @mcdonaldshelppage @usuck

[s-soup111]

Make sure it kills me

Paring: Jinshi x (f) Reader

Genre: angst

Tags: , one-sided love, arranged marriage, hanahaki au

“You’re breaking me.” You concluded in your letter. It’s not as if you were going to send it anyway, you placed the carefully folded letter into your locked drawer along with all your other heartfelt paragraphs. What was the point? He didn’t return your feelings anymore. Yes, maybe you did once share small intimate glances, hold pinkies as you walked down the flower garden together. Maybe you did share secret kisses under the softening gaze of the moon-lit pond. Where did that go?

“Was it ever real?” You ask yourself.

Maybe it was. But that was all in the past, Jinshi no longer belongs to you, he belongs to that servant named Maomao. You’ve seen the way he looks at her, with gleaming eyes and intrigued grins. You’ve seen how he gave her his hair pin, you’v seen it all. Jealousy swirling in the pit of your stomach, how pitiful.

Why does he love her? She’s just a servant, strange green hair and a freckled face, she is nothing compared to a beauty like you- you held a graceful complexion, you had an air of confidence not only beautiful but superiority. Just as the daughter of the emperor should. You were perfect, so why doesn’t he look your way anymore? Maybe it was because of how perfect you were. Maomao was anything but perfect, an unpredictable character and lower class. So imperfect but kind.

You choke on something, suddenly you find it difficult to breathe. You struggle in your room but no one comes to help you, all your ladies in waiting are outside by your order. How ironic. You hyperventilate in your own room, coughing, tears swelling in your eyes- you reach out trying to grasp onto something. You fall and your sight fades.

Jinshi is not aware of your falling ill until Maomao is summoned into your quarters. Jinshi knows you will be fine, he is not so concerned for your health as he knows Maomao will fix you some way or another, so he does not find the need to visit you. Not until Maomao ushers him urgently with a sense of panic in her eyes does he start to notice something is wrong.

“The madam is severely ill.”

Jinshi rushes to your quarters as soon as he hears this, you never get ill, so why now? As the emperor’s daughter you have been treated with the utmost care, therefore almost never falling ill. He drags Maomao with him, telling her to fix you immediately, not a request, an order. She’s never seen him this way, not with sweat falling from his face in panic, eyes scanning you with concern, hands shaking. Not the usual flirty, perverted man she’s used to.

You open your eyes, searching around your room for any signs of human presence, you see Maomao sitting next to you, head hung low with dark circles sitting under her shut eyes. She must have taken a long time to treat you, you are grateful. You try to raise yourself but it strains your body, your arms supporting your body are weak and unstable, you let out a dry cough- leaving behind a beautiful pink petal on your bed; yet you do not notice and leave your room quietly.

The moon is bright; yet it is a cold and star-less night, you stare at it for some time before you feel the icy breeze get to you. Your body feels weak and worn. In another timeline, Jinshi would wrap his robes around you, shielding you away from the wrath of the night. You walk away pathetically, not the blood trickling from your mouth.

Jinshi watches you from a distance, he is paralyzed by your beauty, ethereal in the moonlight fanning your pale skin, he watches you gaze into nothing in particular, he sees puffs of smoke leave your mouth every time you exhale. You must be cold, he is too unsure if he should go towards you. He sees you turning to move away, his eyes catches something but isn’t sure what it is. Suddenly, he realizes Maomao isn’t next to you and worries. But this time, he worries for you than her.

You are heard by the maids weeping and sobbing in your sleep, often beseeching Jinshi to come home, the life left your body, only leaving some empty shell, your body pained and ached, vomiting blood and pretty pink petals, your health declined to the point you could not manage your household affairs and Jinshi was forced to take over. Jinshi visited your room as much as he allowed himself to; he watched your weak frame struggle to breathe as more tears rolled down your face.

For some reason his heart ached to see you like this, he thought he’d lost feelings years ago. Maybe his heart just didn’t want to let you go.

“Beloved..?” You reach out one night. Jinshi is nose-deep into his work as he hears your voice. He turns around abruptly, heart hammering in his chest. You looked enthralling even deeply ill. Though, you had tears staining your face, “Jinshi, please.” You cried. You coughed, spitting out flowers that tasted bitter on your tongue.

“You’re breaking me, please stop this my love,”

“You know I can’t do that,”

“Then kiss me. Kiss me like you love me, tell me you love me even if you have to lie.”

“I love you.”

You look at him, the ache in your heart has not gone.

“You’re merciless.”

[for-a-longlongtime]

Guilty Pleasure (6/7) - dbf!Joel Miller x reader

An open bar and Joel in a tailored black outfit mean trouble at your father's garden party. Enough reason to do something you haven't done before.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, mdni 🔞🔥 Series warnings (tba): Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 43), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy', outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU. Word count: 3.4K A/N: I finished writing the final chapter last night and y'all, I'm giddy as fuck. Big BIG thanks to @milla-frenchy and @reallyrallyauthor for your support and reading Part 6 and 7 early to make sure this hits juuust right!

< part 5 | series masterlist | main masterlist

There are too many people in your backyard. Mingling, chatting, networking, kissing ass - all accompanied by canapés that are too fancy, beer that is so painfully hip and micro-brewed that you don’t even want to try it, and outfits intended to seem semi-casual yet also upstage everybody. You hate these gatherings. It’s far from the first time you’ve had to endure them because of your father’s work, though. Even your grandmother liked reminding you when you were little that your grandfather also hosted affairs like this. “It’s important to build connections.”

You don’t care. All you give a damn about tonight - or maybe these days, if you are honest with yourself - was Joel, dressed like a fucking vision. Well fitting black pants, that you suspect are tailored, an ever better fitting black dress shirt which is absolutely tailored, and matching black boots. His hair, usually curly and messy, now looks so sharp that you wonder if he got a haircut this morning; it’s a little shorter, definitely neater, and brushed back a little.

But what your eyes keep going back to the most are the few buttons on his shirt that are undone, showing off his tanned skin and a smattering of freckles you had barely noticed before. It makes you want to trace every single one with your tongue and find out if he would whine when you'd suck a hickey on his neck.

He’s at the bar, waiting for his drink, so you slide in right next to him and bump against his arm. “Hey. Don’t tell me you’re drinking those craft beers?”

“Jesus. No, of course not.” 

The expression on his face is one of instant disgust, and you can’t help but laugh at the candid response. “Wow, didn’t think there’d be someone else who’d hate them as much as I do.”

Joel grumbles something, then gives the bartender a nod as he takes a glass of whiskey from him. When the guy turns to you to take your order, you point at Joel’s glass. “I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

The guy gives you a doubtful look. “Can I see some ID?”

“Yes, you can. It’s called ‘I’m the daughter of the guy who is paying your salary tonight’ and I’m twenty two. Thanks for making that drink now.” You stare at him, daring him to push back against you - you are NOT in the mood for this tonight, especially not in front of Joel. After a few moments, the bartender sighs and shrugs as he turns around, reaching for a glass and some ice. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, so you turn towards him to give him a similar look. “What? Go ahead. Say it.”

“Say what?”

“That I’m being a brat.”

“Nah.” Joel shakes his head as he sips from his whiskey. “You’d just get off on that. That’s not brattiness - you’re actually being rude,” he says, then wanders off to go talk to someone nearby.

You stare at him with an open mouth, anger starting to creep into you. How the fuck does he dare to just say something like that to you? It hurts, and most of all it gives you a pang of concern that maybe you’ve ruined your chances with him - between this and the way he responded at the pool a few days ago.

“Oh honey, forget about it.” The bartender gives you a look that’s bordering on pity and disdain, his inflection drastically different all of a sudden as he pushes a glass towards you. “That man ain’t into you. Wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole. Why don’t you go find somebody of your own age to play with, hmmm?”

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”, you snap at him as you grab the glass and stalk off, his words feeling like claws that have sunk into your skin and won’t let go of you. The burn of the liquor doesn’t help you in the way you’d hoped for, and you find yourself craving something stronger, sweeter. Anything that’ll help you take the edge off.

Anything, in this case, turns out to be 6’3”, blond, looks like a jock and is named… Brady? Brody? Brad. Ben. Blake. Something like that, you can’t remember, but it’s unimportant after having chatted with him for all of ten minutes. What matters is that he’s not a bad kisser, smells fine - not woodsy like Joel unfortunately - and his hands are large as well as eager, pressing you with your back against the solid wood of the pergola. 

If it wouldn’t ruin the mood for him, you probably would’ve laughed at the irony of making out with Blaine - Brandon? Brayden? No. Bruno. Bruce. Barry. Maybe it was Chad after all - right against the pergola that Joel had built over the past couple of days. 

You’d been watching Joel from your bay window, his muscles straining in the sun, while he grunted the way you had memorized from his Instagram videos. And for all of those three days, you’d had several orgasms as you’d watched him. Some of them were thanks to your fingers, others due to toys - varying from the small bullet vibe to the thrusting rabbit vibrator you used for longer sessions. But in the end, all of this had been going on for too long. The flirting, the way you’d feel him look at you regularly, the build up of tension; it had you feral by now, and you just wanted Joel.

You are gonna get him. Soon. Even if it means needing to make him jealous.

“Should we- should we go inside?” Jock guy pauses his kisses, leaning his forehead against yours as he runs his hands down your body, and you can feel him press hot and heavy against your thigh. Fuck, he is hung. “We’ll have some more privacy, and…”

“No, this is fine,” you say quickly, your eyes scanning the crowd of people across the yard. Most of them are unaware of your makeout session, and your glance slides right past them, but suddenly you detect Joel not too far away from where you are. He is staring right at you, gripping his whiskey glass in your hand, and when the guy next to him says something, he only shakes his head, not breaking his glance with you.

“Are you…”

“I said this is fine,” you said sharply to the guy with his hands on your hips. A frown plays over his face, and in a gesture of good will you let your hand brush over the crotch of his pants, tracing the outline of his dick. “Nobody is watching.”

He groans, his lips finding yours again as he pushes himself against your hand. You kiss him back eagerly this time, your arms around him as you turn him just the slightest bit so you can keep your view of Joel. He’s talking to the guy next to him now, a back and forth conversation, but every now and then his eyes slide back to you, and then there’s a nod he gives you that makes you shiver.

Baxter, or Bart, Bobby, or whatever the hell his name is, slips his hand under your skirt, and you moan when his fingertips trace your lacy underwear. You hear how he sucks in air for a second, then his chest almost puffs up in pride at how wet he finds you. Silly guy. He thinks it’s because of him, that his not-too-bad kisses have riled you up so much. Has no damn clue how Joel’s eyes are back on you again.

“Touch me,” you breathe at him, and then hold your breath when he does so. Thick fingers - though not as thick as Joel’s - slipping under the fabric of your panties, pulling them to the side while your eyes remain locked on Joel. You’re trying to merge the touches with your fantasies and the visual of Joel right in front of you, conjuring up his voice. You think of the way he’d tease you with slow, playful strokes over your pussy, each time a little more focused on your clit, making you delirious with need before he’d even consider sliding a finger into your soaked cunt.

But reality seems more than unwilling to blend with your fantasies. While initially the guy seemed to smell fine, you’re now noticing the overwhelming amount of generic fuck boy cologne he’s wearing, the scent unsettling and clearly something Joel would never even wear. He doesn’t smell like a hard day’s work on Joel does and his hands are too smooth, too well taken care of. No roughness from manual labor whatsoever, no finesse to tease you, and definitely not much muscle memory on how to properly get a woman going. 

Instead he’s just clumsy, perhaps because all the blood has rushed to his cock that’s pressing insistently against you. Substitute-Joel’s fingers slide over your folds only one disappointing time, clearly not even attempting to find your clit. He fumbles around as his own breathing grows heavy, then suddenly tries to push two fingers inside of you - without any further prep or even checking if that’s okay with you. 

It abruptly ruins the horny spell you’d been under several minutes ago, and you swear as you grab his hand to stop him, your pussy strongly objecting to his fingers trying to invade you. 

“Hey! Fucking hell,” you hiss, pulling his hand out of your underwear before he can go any further. “You always fingerbang girls without properly prepping them?”

“What? You’re practically dripping on me,” he hisses back as he looks confused. But you’re not about to end up in a discussion about how being wet doesn’t mean he can just shove his fingers inside of you - let alone without any warning.

“Never mind,” you say as you push him away from you, then straighten your clothes as you move away from the pergola. “Let’s just forget this happened, okay? I’ve gotta go say hi to someone.”

“Bitch,” he mutters at you, adjusting his tie and the collar of his shirt. On most days you would’ve gladly torn him a new asshole for that, but you’re just not in the mood to further engage with him. So you start to head into Joel’s direction, but then see that he seems to have moved elsewhere, leaving you to look around in confusion.

You look up when you hear a group of men laugh, and see your father shake some hands as he offers his audience a few more words. Joel is there too, you realize, still with a drink in his hand. Your father gives him a friendly pat on his arm, which is returned with Joel’s signature nod, as he then heads over to some other people who look more than eager to greet him. It makes your skin crawl to see him acting like some kind of politician, eager to make a good impression on everyone, and you quickly turn away from him to look back at Joel - who is now looking straight at you again, without saying anything.

It’s not until you’re back at the bar for another whiskey - you’ve lost track of how many you’ve had - that he shows up next to you, giving you a gentle nudge like you had done to him earlier. “D’you eat anything recently?”, he asks, absentmindedly playing with a coaster on the bar. You can smell the smokey alcohol on his breath, see that the buttons on his shirt are just a little more opened than they were a little while ago, and it just makes you ache for him.

“Shut up, Joel,” you mutter, but he doesn’t follow your suggestion - instead he picks up the whiskey that the bartender slides over to you and takes a sip of it.

“A water for her, please?”, he asks, then covers the liquor glass with his hand when you try to reach for it. “No. You’re done.”

You’re starting to seethe at this point. “Who the fuck you think you are telling me how much I can drink?,” you snap at him. His eyes are infuriatingly calm, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips makes it clear he’s a lot more amused than you are.

“Easy, darling. Just looking out for you, okay?” He pushes the glass of ice water on the counter over to you, but you have half a mind to throw it at him.

“Why are you bothering me?”

His eyebrows raise at the word ‘bothering’, but he doesn’t quite respond to it. “Just have some water and food,” he says softly. “You’ll feel like shit if you don’t.” 

“You’re drunk too.”

Joel rolls his eyes at you. “Yeah, well… have to get through this all somehow, don’t I? Been drinking water too, though.” He gives you a look as he takes another sip of whiskey, sighing.

“I don’t get why you’re here.” Your head is spinning a little, but at this point you’re not sure if it’s the booze or proximity to Joel that’s getting to you. The memory of that jock guy’s cologne is far from your mind by now, replaced now by that smell that you crave - the cologne you would recognize anywhere, layered with Joel’s own scent. And it’s driving you mad. “Nobody is making you, unlike they’re doing with me.” 

A smile plays over Joel’s face and he shrugs. “Your mom asked me.”

You can’t help but laugh. “My— what? And that’s why you’re voluntarily subjecting yourself to all of this?” You gesture around the yard, the groups of stuffy people, pretentious bite sized food and music that makes you desperately want to connect your phone to the speaker system. “I’ve been to so many of these. It’s awful, every single time.”

You’re waiting for him to tell you it’s not that bad, or even that you should suck it up. But instead he simply doesn’t respond, and only gives you a raised eyebrow as he has some more whiskey. When he puts the glass down on the bar, you impulsively swipe it and drain it before he can interfere, waiting for an actual retort this time. 

A frown slides onto his face and you grin almost triumphantly at the reaction, pushing the empty glass back towards him, only ice cubes remaining in it now. “I think you like dramatic,” you then blurt out, and see how he blushes slightly, the red flush creeping up from his chest to his neck.

“That what you think?” His eyes flick over you, and you nod, poking him in the chest with your finger. 

“Yeah. You’re… practical. Proper. Maybe kinda boring. You got your routine.” You really should stop talking with all that liquor in your system, but you refuse to admit he was right about you needing to sober up. “Maybe getting close to a midlife crisis? Working your job and then all the reno on your house. Don’t see you chill a whole lot.” 

You run your finger a little down his chest, then place your full hand against his shirt as you lean over to his ear. “I think you want some fun,” you whisper in his ear, barely audible due to the music playing at the party. “Somebody who shakes things up. Brings a little drama and excitement.”

Joel’s eyes are slightly unfocused from the whiskey, just like yours probably are, and you can tell that his guard is down in ways that you haven’t experienced before. “Old, huh? Boring, old, and close to a midlife crisis,” he says after a moment, a smirk on his face as he shakes his head. “But you would shake things up? Why would you bother with an old man?”

“Maybe I’m into that.” You bite your lip as you hesitate for a moment. “The whole DILF thing. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you watching me.”

His smirk widens into an actual grin now as he laughs, looking away at some commotion or a gathering that’s happening at the party. When he looks back at you, his eyes are darker than usual, and you can’t help but feel a shiver run down your spine.

“Little girl. You are in over your head.” His words are measured and quiet as he seems to pick them carefully, his hand now reaching for yours that’s still resting against his chest, and he gently pulls it off his shirt. “ Y’don’t even have a clue of what you’re playing with, darling. What are you gonna do? Rock my world? At your father’s party?”

“I don’t give a shit about his party,” you say sharply, but he shakes his head, interrupting you.

“But that’s the thing. You do,” he murmurs. “Y’couldn’t be more thrilled than to do so here, just to make a scene. Like you did with that guy.”

You feel victorious hearing him confirm that he had been watching you, and together with his ‘little girl’ comment it’s enough to make you soak your panties on the spot. “Were you jealous?”, you ask him challengingly.

He chuckles again, this time getting up from the barstool, and you take in his physique, admiring the way those tailored pants fit around his thighs. “Have some more water. And food,” he tells you, and in the split second you have before he turns away, you make up your mind. Perhaps it’s more like instinct, to do what you’ve been stopping yourself from doing for a while now. 

You grope him. 

Fingers quick as you cup him through his pants, closing around his balls and a part of his dick. It takes effort to bite back a whimper at finally feeling him, thick and hot and heavy in your hand, after all those weeks that you’ve been here and tried to figure out what the right move was. You hold his eyes defiantly, lips parted as you’d like to use your words but they all seem stuck in your throat.

His surprised intake of air when you grab him is immediate, and he looks frazzled as he shakes his head, tugging your hand abruptly away from his cock. “You out of your damn mind?”, he hisses, looking more than just a little flustered. “In front of everyfuckingbody?”

“So come insi—” The words die on your tongue when you suddenly see your mom approaching from a couple of feet behind Joel, unaware of what’s happening between the two of you, but apparently in search of you as she calls your name. Joel and you immediately step away from each other, him leaning against the bar as he seems to need a moment to compose himself. You have even less time to plaster a smile on your face for your mother, so you just nod enthusiastically as she rambles at you about some person’s son you should come meet. Your heart feels like it’s hammering out of your chest as you force yourself to tell her that you’d love to meet them, bringing a smile to your mom’s face.

Just as you’re about to join her to meet this person, your mom pauses at the bar and puts her hand on Joel’s shoulder. “By the way, he said that he could use your help with moving that thing, if you have time? Think he’s inside, couldn’t find you,” she said, and Joel nods while humming something affirmatively. His eyes flit to you for a split second before he looks down at the bar again, and he seems to wait until the two of you have moved away until he goes inside.    

You’re in a mild daze as you follow your mom through the crowd, performing the role you’re expected to play, while the moment that you grabbed Joel plays on repeat in your head. The gasp that spilled from his lips, the way he didn’t say “no” - just “in front of everybody?”, which was an entirely different thing, and frankly… he wasn’t wrong.

You can wait. Just that little bit longer. It’ll be so worth it.

part 7 >

Joel's outfit at the party (as a dress shirt and pants instead of a jumpsuit):

series masterlist | main masterlist

Thank you for reading, commenting or reblogging - I appreciate it so very much 🙏

🚨 Follow @longlongtime-updates + turn on notifs to see when the finale drops later this week!

[sapphic-gardn]

come clean

modern au!ellie williams x afab!reader

summary: ellie makes you clean up the mess you made on her strap.

warnings (18+ mdni): smut, swearing, pet names (princess, angel, baby), strap usage (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), a little overstimulation, one (1) ass slap, cum eating, strap sucking (ellie!receiving), no specific descriptions of reader’s appearance, i think that’s all but let me know if i missed something!

word count: 0.8k

a/n: this idea struck me while i was tipsy and extremely Horny. thank you for the love on i will. thank you for the likes, comments & reblogs—you guys make my heart explode. i love you.

“Ngh–fuck! ‘M g-gonna come– jus’ like that, Els, pleaseplease–”

The front of your body is pressed against the pale oak surface of your dresser. Ellie’s hands rest on the curve of your ass, pulling the meat taut, enamored by the debauched image of her cock riving you open. Her palm comes down with a smack on the soft integument of your derriere, the sting of the impact shoots to your core.

“Oh my god, baby— so wet..takin’ me so well,” Ellie gawks at the sight of your pussy weeping on her cock. The shaft slipping in and out so fluidly, the white ring of your cum forming at the base. She throws her head back, brows furrowed, mindlessly pounding into you. The kickback of the strap grinds against her puffy clit each time her hips meet your ass, the recoil encouraging her to go faster, harder.

“Come all over my cock, baby– fuuuck,” Ellie rasps, barely audible, her high approaching quickly. Her movements turn erratic, desperate to see you unravel for her. Her grip finds purchase on your plush hips, white knuckling the flesh, sure to leave tender bruises under their press.

The white hot sensation grows in your lower belly, traveling quickly to your peripheries.

“E-Els– fuck! I’m co-coming–” Your eyes roll back in ecstasy as your orgasm washes over you, a white haze clouds your vision. Your chest squeezes the air out of your lungs, choking on inaudible moans. Your pussy clenches around Ellie’s girth, squeezing, milking her cock as if it were real.

Grunts and groans slip past Ellie’s lips as she works towards her own release. Her thrusts become sloppy, harsh, quick, as she chases her high.

A whimper escapes Ellie, “ohmygod— ‘m coming oh fuuuck!” With one last thrust, Ellie stills inside of you. Her body folds over, sweaty skin meeting your own, feeling each gasp and convulsion that accompanies her orgasm.

Hot breath fans over the back of your neck, followed by gentle kisses that lead down, down.

Ellie slips out of you, falling to her knees, legs still shaking. You feel her presence at your core, “Els— too much, ‘s too much,” you plead with her.

“Gotta clean you up, princess.” As soon as the words leave her, she is diving into your folds, eating you from the back. Suckling the tangy nectar, moaning into you as she does so. The pressure of her tongue laps against your sensitive bud, you try to pull away but her hold is unforgiving, inescapable.

“Taste so good, baby, can’t let it go to waste.” Ellie pulls away, you peer over your shoulder, admiring the drunken expression painting her face. Your slick covers her chin, lips, nose…glistening against the rays of sunlight beaming through the window. Ellie looks god-like, heaven sent in this moment, freckled skin gleaming in sweat beads, half lidded eyes that look back at you, consumed by adoration.

Ellie stands, she lightly taps your ass, “On your knees, angel.”

You obey, slowly lowering yourself onto the hardwood, gazing up at Ellie, waiting for a command.

“Suck it.” Ellie pushes out her hips, still strap clad.

“Wha-”

“I said, suck it. Taste yourself on my cock, baby.” A sly smile tugs at her lips, “Clean up your mess.”

Ellie knows it isn’t real. She knows the purple appendage attached to the harness on her hips is merely silicone. But, fuck, it feels real when you swirl your tongue around the tip, gripping the base with your nimble fingers.

You flatten your tongue, licking from base to tip, gathering your own release onto your tastebuds. Wetness pools at your core, the sight of Ellie towering over you while you suck her silicone cock is erotic, hot. Especially when she moans and throws her head back as if she can feel your tongue gliding over the veins and ridges.

You take her deeper, fully into your mouth. The tip prods at the back of your throat, triggering your gag reflex, “Fuck— you look so pretty when you choke on my dick, baby.”

Tears fall down your cheeks, you gaze up at Ellie through damp lashes, mouth full of her cock. Her chest heaves, her eyes squeeze shut, overwhelmed by the lewd image, trying to burn it into her memory.

The resistance of your throat is too much, the kickback overstimulating her swollen clit, “O-Okay, baby…too much.” Ellie cradles your face as she pulls out of your throat. She notes the look of contentment on your face, pure bliss. She extends her hand, “Let’s actually get cleaned up now, yeah?”

She pulls you into her, leading your wobbly legs and sore knees to the shower.

-end-

a/n: sorry this was a suck ass ending. idk how to end fics. also this is my first ellie smut so be nice thank you 🙏🏼 i hope you enjoyed it yay!! -jen <3

[raichett]

Scarian kiss from an Arranged Marriage AU that will never be written any further than this, enjoy <3

The Watcher of the Eclipse of the Sun over the Third Spire's mouth, when Scar finally presses his lips against it, is all wrong. For a human, he silently appends, as his thoughts scatter and waver, trailing away with part distraction as he tries to make some sense of the feeling, and, honestly, part disassociation. It's probably completely right and normal for a Watcher, one to whom Scar is now forever tied to, so he guesses he might as well start getting used to it sooner or later.

In front of a solemn audience is not the way that Scar would have wanted to first kiss his new - husband? Wife? Partner, he's going to go with partner, because he and the Watcher of the Eclipse of the Sun over the Third Spire (gosh, that's a mouthful of a name, and he didn't even get told it until a mere three hours before the ceremony) had never even met before they were both inside this grand hall - and it's beautiful, stunning, it truly is, but Scar's not been able to fully appreciate it - and certainly have never held a conversation. The first time he heard his partner's voice was the wedding vows, for crying out loud.

The Watcher of the Eclipse of the Sun over the Third Spire's lips buzz against Scar's, like the air before a thunderstorm turned physical and solid, pins and needles muffled and without pain. Their lips are not damp and their mouth is not wet when Scar dares to swipe his tongue briefly inside; but somehow the suggestion is there, like reaching out to grasp clothing hung out to dry to check whether you can start folding it up yet, and thinking that no, it's not ready, it's still a little damp, but then realising a second later that it's not damp, it's just cold.

The lips Scar is kissing aren't cold, nor are they warm, the temperature of a room where one is not particularly aware of the temperature inside because it simply isn't of note. Scar wonders how his mouth feels, how it tastes to his partner, because their taste is all wrong, too. It tastes like a sunbeam, like if Scar could pool the streams of golden light filtering through a window and cutting a shaft through the air, illuminating all the dust, into his palms and then drink from them - that would be the taste. It isn't sweet, or sour, or spicy, or - anything in any word Scar could try to apply. It's just warm; warmth without temperature, wrongness without malice, inhumanity without monstrosity.

When Scar reckons enough time has passed, he breaks the kiss and leans away. They can't have been kissing for more than a few seconds, really. A stuttering applause starts to fill the room, but Scar's only looking at the Watcher of the Eclipse of the Sun over the Third Spire's face. It's half hidden behind an elaborate mask over the nose and eyes, extending out into an array of wavy stylised sunbeams, inset with jewels and gems, the whole thing moulded from precious metals. The gaze behind isn't visible, darkly tinted crystal or glass obscuring it, preventing Scar from truly catching it. Likewise, there are other such dark shapes, ovals with pointed ends and pointedly outlined in the complex pattern of the mask - Scar wonders if there are eyes behind all of them. The face, otherwise, looks human enough, with pink lips and pale skin, a smattering of maybe-freckles peeking out the bottom of the mask, glinting the wrong colour, and he knows he felt teeth and a tongue in the other's mouth.

The formal ceremony - some mix of human traditions and Watcher traditions, Scar knows, but he just does what he's told to when he's told to do it, having been too mixed up in tying up his own life neatly to have taken much part in the logistics of the marriage itself - disperses into an adjacent courtyard. Amongst the guests, Scar can hear distant murmurs of rote congratulations and conversations, all of them probably precise and polite and political, carefully thought out ahead of time. Suddenly, he's alone with his new partner, both of them the afterthoughts of those with far more power than they; trinkets swapped about, put on display, admired momentarily, and then left behind.

Bold, Scar takes the Watcher of the Eclipse of the Sun over the Third Spire's hand - four fingers and a thumb, mostly human except for how they have no fingernails, only a vertical slit running around the fingertip from which Scar supposes the talons are unsheathed - and presses another kiss to the tops of the fingers as they curl, unresisting, into his gentle grip. "My name is Scar," he says, softly, wanting to get to have his own introduction. He usually flourishes here, starts spouting off an energetic script, but the sudden emptiness and quietness of the room presses down, and he can't; it doesn't feel right.

The Watcher of the Eclipse of the Sun over the Third Spire seems to observe him for a moment, watching in that heavy way their kind are known for. Then, they tighten their hand a little, holding his in return. When they reply, the words are picked out and pronounced carefully, unlike the recitation of the scripted vows, spoken in a way that puts Scar in mind of someone communicating in a language they are still learning: "My name," they say, "is Grian."