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ohcaptains · 1 year

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don’t you dare fall in love | 3

pairing. dealer college student! ellie williams x f! reader

PART ONE. PART TWO. MASTERLIST. synopsis. ellie tries her hardest not to mix business with pleasure. or, ellie gets a new customer and unfortunately falls in love with her.

warnings. 18+. blank & ageless blogs will be blocked. clichè comments on sorority girls (sorry), sexually explicit descriptions of female receiving cunnilingus, fondling, fingering, and dry humping. not beta’d.

an. well here ya go! thank u to all those who were so patient and lovely with me<3 to those who weren’t and were mean to me...i’m giving you the nastiest dirty look rn. pls comment and reblog!!!! love u.

When Ellie gets out of her meeting with her personal tutor, she’s just about ready to throw herself down the stairs.

Catapult herself out of the window and perish on the campus floor. That way, she wouldn’t have to rewrite this God. Damn. Essay.

It sucks that she has to do actual work to get her degree, but what sucks even more, is doing the work and being told you’ve done it all wrong.

At first, Ellie was angry. Now, she’s frustrated. Tired. Was up all night writing this essay because she’s been waiting for this meeting for a whole week, and all the man did was say, you’re not actually answering the question.

“Fucking asshole,” she murmurs, pushing through the doors.

She reaches the quiet hallway of the humanities block, the dilapidated building stuffy with age. She misses her uber-funded science building. Misses the cool white and sleek edges. Here, there’s paper covering everything.

The hallways go round and round – lift creaks from the weight of students carrying War and Peace in their backpacks, year after year.

She’s near tears when she hears you calling her name.

“Els?” you ask, tone confused and edged with excitement. Ellie’s heart does its little familiar leap. She turns to you, sniffing the tears away. It’s been a minute since she saw you in the flesh. Her body aches, eager to touch you. “Hey,” she greets, the presence of you brightening her mood for a sweet second. You’re wearing a casual pair of black jeans and a band tee – Ellie owns a similar one, and for a moment, she thinks you’re wearing her shirt. “I was just about to text you –” you start, but your face twists, noticing hers. “You okay?” “Yeah,” Ellie lies. The tears push harder now, your concern making her belly flop.

You frown. “No, you’re not.”

Her lip wobbles.

“Ellie?” “Sorry, just – fuck --” her eyes are rimmed red, tears pushing over the edge. “—had a really shitty meeting with my tutor about my essay that’s worth like, 50% of my grade and I’m so busy with other work and—” a tear slips down her cheek, but you’re quick to take her in your arms, murmuring, “oh, Els,” as you cup her head and pull it into your neck.

She releases a breath, leaning her full weight into your body.

You smell like laundry detergent and coffee. Smell familiar. She’s comfortable here. It’s why she lets herself begin to cry against your shoulder.

“Awh, sweetheart,” you whisper, hands running up and down her back, soothing her like a baby.

“What did the feedback say?” “Have to change the whole thing. And I have enough time, but I have other work.” “Yeah, I can imagine.” “He basically said that if I submit this essay, I’ll fail.” “Well, you won’t, because I’ll hack into the system and change your grade for you.”

Ellie hiccups a laugh, “you know nothing about computers.” “I’ll learn for you. Take some night classes. What’s the essay for?” you ask, still rubbing her back. “English.” “I can help you if you want.” “Yeah?” “Yeah, come to mine. I’ll look through the question with you, and help you plan.”

Ellie pulls away, wiping her wet, red-rimmed eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie. You help her, drying the dampness from her chin and cheeks, and smoothing her hair behind her ears.

She beams from your touch. Her body goes hot from your care -- belly flips over.

You hold her shoulders, keeping her steady, and Ellie thanks the Gods you texted her that day. Your smile is resolute as you say, “It’ll be okay. We got this.”

When you open the door to your accommodation, Ellie is mid panic attack. “You live in a sorority?” she squeaks. When you sent her the address earlier, she hadn’t really read it, too busy trying to calm her beating heart. Going to her house going to her house.

Now, she’s standing in front of you, and thinking – this is your house? There’s a teardrop chandelier hanging behind you, and the staircase loops around the entrance hall, feeding into the back of the house.

You frown, confused. “Yeah, did I not tell you?” “No – “Ellie bursts, clearly flustered, “-- you failed to provide me with that information.” She makes a mental note to text Dina, simply – what the fuck, man? “Is it a problem?” you wonder, leaning against the doorframe, comfortable in your home. (Wearing pyjama shorts and a baggy top, you know, comfortable)

You didn’t seem like a sorority girl. But what did that even mean?

You did have a lot of…spirit.

Ellie imagines you hosting mixers and philanthropy events.

(Imagines you wearing a lot of pink and jumpers with your sorority name on it and nothing else.) “I don’t really sell to frats or sororities,” she explains, because, yeah, that’s the reason she’s having a hot moment. She thought she knew a lot about you. This, right here, is a big deal, and yet she’s only now just finding out.

What else did she not know about you? You think for a quick second. “Oh. Well,” you smile, patting your chest, concluding, “I’m the exception,” and you take her hand and pull her in, closing the door behind her.

When Ellie’s in the house, she doesn’t let go of your hand.

Instead, she uses it to tug you closer, and your wrist pushes into her belly. “They let queer girls into sororities?” she whispers, close enough to taste the mint gum you’re chewing.

Ellie has ideas of girls on the straight and narrow. No girl kissing here, unless guys are watching. Ellie cringes at the cliché, but you’re not offended – hadn’t heard her thoughts, so, that would be why – as your lips pull into a sly smile.

You lean forward, a ghost of a kiss. Ellie’s throat squeezes. “They don’t know that I’m a queer girl,” you whisper back, the heat of your eyes all-consuming.

Ellie watches you shrug.

“They don’t know that at least a quarter of them are queer girls, but – they’re not ready for that conversation.” “But you’re out, no?” Ellie quickly stumbles. If you’re not out, then that really messes with her plans to marry you and meet all your family. “Yeah,” you shrug again, explaining, “they just haven’t asked,” as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. In some ways, Ellie guesses, it is. She beams, “Well, they’ll ask when they see you hanging with me.” “What, why?” “Because I’m a known queer girl” “Oh, you have a reputation?” you quirk, and Ellie hums, “It’s possible I may have fooled around with some of your sorority sisters.” You chew on your lip, and cock your head to the side, “But did you share a really weird and intimate high with them where you cuddled all night, woke up mid-orgasm and then it made things super weird and odd to the point where you never really spoke about it again?”

Ellie grins, “No.” You shrug, “Oh, well. I win then,” and take her hand and begin to drag her behind you like a lost puppy dog.

She’s behind you on the stairs again, and you catch her staring when you turn to say, “Let’s go to my room.” As you drag her through the house, Ellie doesn’t see anyone, but she does hear the ominous sound of girl giggles and whispering. Heat blooms in her cheeks, as if she’s got omniscient eyes at the back of her head.

Ellie didn’t get along with peppy girls – too full of inner turmoil to match their happy-go-lucky attitude. The thought makes her clutch your hand tighter, and she speeds up, bumping her shoulders with yours.

“So, what’re the rules?” “Huh?” you ask, looking at her funny. The pair of you pass a group photo, and Ellie wants to stop and gawk – try and find your smiling face – but you tug her along, sensing her motives. “Like,” Ellie starts, stuck on her phrasing. “How should I be around you?” You frown up at her, deciphering her meaning. Slowly, your frown loosens. A small smile pushes into the side of your cheek. You squeeze her hand.

“Just be my Ellie.”

The pair of you go through Ellie’s question, and you help her write up a plan, noting all of her points and the quotes she should use.

Ellie tries to focus, but the whole time she’s thinking about how close you are to her – leaning against her, pushing your shoulder into hers.

She’s sitting on your bed in your room, and she’s hot all over as a result – smelling the scent from your burning candle and listening to the soft music you’re playing out of the laptop speaker.

Your walls are covered in posters. Pictures of you with family and friends and Ellie is surrounded by so much you that it feels like it’s always been like this.

Always been in your room, with her head on your lap, listening to your playlist – Ellie’s got Shazam out, but you’re just sending her the link. On her main phone, now – no busted one at the bottom of her bag.

She’s so busy being with you that she’s not wondering what she’s doing with you.

What are we? She wants to ask, but then your roommate decides to come in.

She pauses in the doorway, flinching as if she’s walked in on something intimate.

Ellie watches your eyes widen an inch, but then you catch yourself, smiling and waving. “Hey,” you greet, and your roommate – actually wearing a hoodie with your university name on it -- smiles, “Sorry, just grabbing my charger.”

“No problem,” you respond, and when she finally flicks her gaze to Ellie – kept on looking around her, like she was panhandling for money on the subway – her smile loosens.

She’s silent as she grabs her wire from her bed and doesn’t look at the pair of you as she leaves. When she’s out of the door, you get up and lock it. Coming back, Ellie gets comfy on your lap again.

“Did she look at me funny?” She’s not sure what your relationship with her is like, so she steps carefully. “I think she fancies me,” you casually explain, and Ellie’s belly flops. “For real?” You nod, wiggling your brows. “Should I be jealous?” she jokes, and your lips curl, tongue peeking out as you run it across the backs of your teeth. “We were together, once.” Ellie tries to imagine the pair of you together, and she comes up blank. Though, that’s probably because she’s too busy editing the image to clip her face in. “Yeah?” “Mm, at a Halloween party.” You’re grinning too wide. “You’re just fucking with me,” Ellie huffs, rolling her eyes. “I’m not! I was dressed as a cat, and she was this like, sexy nun or something.” “Really?” Ellie asks, raising a brow and pulling a face that says, you’re full of shit. “Fine – I won’t tell you then.” “No no, I wanna hear this.” “What’s with the tone? I thought you’d for sure want to hear about my sexual escapades.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” You pull your lips together and raise a brow. Ellie suddenly feels too hot. Suddenly wants to run very quickly out of your bedroom door. Butterflies swirl in her belly, blood rushes to her cheeks, to her neck, and she feels the tips of her toes go numb.

You’ve danced around each other with this flirty banter for a while now, but it means something more now that you’ve said it out in the open.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ellie lies, hoping the red of her cheeks isn’t too prominent in the warm glow of your bedroom. You don’t lose your pursed lips, and Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Just hurry up and tell me about how you fucked your roommate.” “Say please,” you quickly rebut, and Ellie chokes.

The fuck? “What?” She laughs nervously, ignoring the quick electric bolt that shot through her groin, “fuck off.” “Fine,” you bleat, leaning back against the bedframe. “I won’t tell you then,” and Ellie shakes her head, proclaiming, “You’re insane,” and you grin at her, raising a testy brow, “It’s just manners, Ellie.”

When Ellie had imagined the dynamics of your relationship – but not relationship – it was you saying please. Preferably whispering it with your fingers in her auburn hair. Please Ellie, please do that again.

Ellie sits up from your lap, shaking the image away.

She takes in the curve of your brow, and the teasing slip of your lips. She dips closer – sudden, quick – and relishes in the way your mouth falls open an inch.

“I’m not begging you,” she whispers, not bothering to hide how mesmerised she is by your mouth.

“No?” you speak, matching her lazy tone. You nod to her, “I thought you’d be into that.”

Jesus fucking Christ, what’s happening right now? Ellie thought you’d help plan her essay and be done with it – she’d hoped for some flirty banter, but this was different. This was… Ellie leans closer, propped up by her hand that she’s planted beside your thigh. “If I say please, I want intricate detail.” “If you say please, I’ll give you whatever you want.” This girl…

“Whatever I want?” Ellie quirks. “Yeah,” you respond, and you press your forehead against hers, tone breathy as you repeat, “Whatever you want.”

Ellie can think of a lot of things she wants. For starters, she wants to close this gap and finally kiss you, but she says, “Please tell me your story,” and you smile, all teeth.

“It was Halloween.” “You said that.” “n, we were really drunk, and she’s like – straight straight, right?” You say straight like someone would say sorry. “Mm,” Ellie hums, her belly swirling. She hasn’t moved a fucking inch. Her palm is cramping, but hell if she’s going to lean away from you right now. This is a whole other kind of foreplay. “We’re in the bathroom.” “Here?” she asks, needing details – information. What day was it? Time?

You nod, and your nose brushes against hers. Her face blooms red again, and the brush of your touch makes her brain fuzzy. “We’re making out, and I thought she only wanted to kiss, but then she starts tryna take my top off.”

There’s a sincere edge to your tone. Your eyes are wistful, but you’re beaming – spurred by the excitement evident in Ellie’s eyes.

“Things get heated. She’s touching me everywhere, you know, hands just, between my legs, on my chest. Says she’s wanted me for ages but couldn’t say it, I mean, she’s got a boyfriend.” “A boyfriend?” Ellie asks, and fuck, that makes it worse. Or better? Either way, her body begins to ache like it did that morning – when it was just the pair of you and the world was quiet. Thrums electric and Ellie’s suddenly worried about the electric bill. “Yeah – frat boyfriend. Frat president boyfriend.” “Look at you, miss home wrecker.” You roll your eyes, “you want me to finish the story?” “I said please, didn’t I?” “You’re the worst.” “So…she’s taking your top off.” “Yeah. Then she’s taking my pants off, too. Then says, she’s never been with a girl before, can I show her?” Ellie pulls back with a groan. She can’t help it. Pulls back and falls into your lap, imagining you showing her how to fuck.

Her eyes are glazed over, like she’s somewhere else, thinking, about something else. She rubs her face and listens to your sweet giggle.

“Sorry,” she says, settling back, and you hold your hands up.

“No worries, take your time.”

Ellie waits – patiently. Waiting for you to divulge more information. Please carry on, she thinks. Please please please.

She feels like a kid at camp listening to the teens tell a ghost story around the campfire. And then what?

“You made her come?” she whispers, failing to hide the excitement in her whisper. A small, thoughtful smile finds your lips, and you lean down, hair brushing over her face.

Your thigh pushes into the back of her head, and you smell like a forest.

Your room smells like a fucking forest. Pine and vanilla.

The lights are dim, cloaking the room in a warm glow. She swears she hears trees swaying in the distance, but she realises – faintly – that it’s just the blood rushing in her ears. No trees here, she thinks. No bloody forest.

You’re looking down at her, eyes glittering in the warm light. After a stress-filled silence, you nod, whispering, “against the wall, cat ears still on. Made her come so hard it was dripping down my chin.” “Jesus,” Ellie whispers. Her legs fidget, trying to squirm from the warmth pushing between her thighs. She pushes her hair away from her forehead, even those it’s already tucked behind her ears. “Then what?” she asks, moving in your lap. Then what then what.

Your lips curl into a small smile, “Then we never spoke about it again.”

Ellie feels her eyes go dark with the memory. Imagines a film over them — lost in her own brain. Pictures you crawling on your hands and knees, on the prowl with your cat ears sitting pretty.

What was it you said again? That she was dripping all over your chin?

Her tongue peaks through her lips, pretty in pink, and she notices your small smile curve wider. Though, it’s not kind. It’s edged with something, as if you’ve made a funny and she doesn’t get the joke.

Ellie’s belly drops.

A laugh bursts out of your mouth, and she freezes. Nononononono, you didn’t. “I’m sorry—” you start, hiding your smile, and Ellie’s lips open in shock, then she’s snapping to -- jumping up from your lap, red all over.

She’s looking for her coat, hands shaking “nah, that’s not funny,” she’s saying, all while the faux image of you between a girl’s thighs buzzes behind her eyes.

It was her. She was the girl. She’d even imagined taking your cat ears off and putting them on her head. “Yeah, it was – Ellie,” you laugh, reaching for her hand, and Ellie’s body reacts to the touch.

You spin her into you, pouting, “Come onnnnn, I was playing.” “You’re mean for making that up. You’re a horrible person.” “Awhhh, I’m sworry. I’m sworry, come here –” You pull her into you, wrapping your arms around her neck. Be mad. Ellie thinks. Be mad be mad be mad—oh, but you’re so soft and warm.

She falls into you, hands catching your hips — holding you steady, as her head pushes into the curved gap between your throat and shoulder. You hold the back of her neck, hugging her close.

“I’m sorry, that was mean.” “Made me all worked up,” Ellie admits. The all-familiar ache is back. Then again, it’s never far when you’re around. “Yeah?” you quirk, the tone saying: tell me all about it. “Mm.” “Thinking about me with another girl?” She breathes a laugh, then breathes in your scent, the smell causing her to hold your hips tighter.

“You gotta write my essay now, make it up to me.” Your laugh rattles against her body.

“What you on about? I gave you free material to think about.” “What?” she laughs, squinting her face together. She pulls away, and you look up at her, chewing on your bottom lip.

You glance down at her mouth, and a breath gets caught in her throat. “Nothing,” You grin, and she cocks her head to the side, tightening her grip on your waist. “No, tell me. You made fun of me, you gotta tell me.” “I don’t have to do anything, Ellie.” “I’ll get it outta you.” “Yeah, how?” “You won’t know until it happens.”

“Weirdo,” you scoff, pulling away. “Let me walk you home, they wanna do a group meeting about some charity event later.” “Ooo, little miss sorority girl.”

You smack her chest, “Hey!” but Ellie grabs your hand, laughing as she pulls you into her, catching your hips again. You gasp in surprise, hands catching hers, and your chest pushes into hers.

She feels you focus on the cavern of her eyebrow scar, then the dust of freckles over her nose. The wild brush of her eyebrows, and the small, circular, chickenpox scar on her cheek.

Ellie gets confident or forgets the proximity of your relationship — nothing new — and rests her forehead against yours.

The world gets quiet.

The buzz of your music fades out, and all Ellie can hear is the small, clipped, and shaky sound of your breathing.

Your eyes flutter closed for a brief second, and Ellie wants to kiss you. Always wants to kiss you, but this is different. This is new and sudden and sweet. It’s soft. Gentle.

Your fingers graze over hers, and she imagines holding you like this forever.

Imagines doing this, as often as she likes.

All you’ve done together, and you haven’t even kissed yet. Ellie gazes at your wet mouth.

“Wanna come to mine? We don’t even have to smoke; you can just help me with the intro to my essay.” Your lips twist, and a small smile appears. “Ellie,” you whisper, tinged with a double meaning. “What?” she asks, feigning innocence. “I can’t,” you whisper.

She breathes in deep, eyes closing as she presses her forehead against yours. “Not even for a second?” “Ellie.” “Please?” she whispers, looking at you, and your face falls. Your mouth opens an inch, the red of your tongue alluring. When you don’t respond, Ellie slowly dips lower and tentatively brushes her mouth against yours. Your breath catches.

The skin of your lips is pillow soft, and for the first time, she’s able to taste your lip gloss from the source. “Doesn’t please get me anything I want?” Ellie hushes. The music has bled into the background, a hum in the walls of your room. It rattles through her toes and dances through her chest, forcing her heart to thrum with life. Your eyes are half-lidded, lashes brushing over your cheeks when you look at her mouth. “That was a one-time deal,” you manage to tease, despite the nerves radiating off of you. “So, I can’t kiss you?” “I never said that.”

Your tone is dangerous. Ellie’s lips quirk into a smirk. “I didn’t say please though?”

There’s a heated 30 seconds where you pluck up some courage. Ellie can hear the cogs turning in your pretty little head before you conclude that, “manners are overrated,” and press your cherry lips against hers, sticky and artificially sweet.

The world stops in that movie magic kind of way.

Reality flutters to a pause, the music switches off, the natter from your roommates downstairs goes quiet, and Ellie can no longer hear the constant anxious beating of her heart.

It’s just you and your mouth – the press of your lips, no tricks, just the delicate touch of yours against hers.

Ellie is 15 again and playing truth or dare at that camp her uncle forced her to go to.

She’s picking dare and kissing Jessica Carter, the daughter of a man that owned a slew of Ice Cream shops in Salt Lake, and it means so much more to Ellie than it does to Jessica.

She feels the electricity of the kiss pulse throughout her body, like she’s got her soapy fingers in a light switch socket, and as she pulls away and Jessica laughs – giggles, cupping her wet lips, I can’t believe we just did that – Ellie feels the cavern in her chest close just an inch.

She was about to thank her, but then she thought better of it.

Pulling away now, there’s no Jessica, it’s you, and you’re pressing your fingers to your lips like you’re holding them out to a cat, nervous as to what’s going to happen next.

Ellie leans her forehead against yours, lips numb.

You’re breathing like you’ve run a marathon. Then you kiss her again.

Ellie stumbles back from the shock, but you move with her, guiding her back until her legs hit the bed frame.

She makes a quick decision – pulls away and gets back onto your bed, hoping you follow her down. Thankfully, you do – quirk a nervous smile and knee walk over to her, spreading your legs and clambering onto her lap.

You sit back on her thighs with your knees pressed against her hips.

The position is a memory re-lived, except this time, you’re both alert – no sleep to mask the feeling, just the nerves pulsating through your veins. New new new, it’s saying.

Ellie reaches out and steadies your hips.

Taking a shaky breath, she slips her thumbs under the fabric of your shirt and runs the length of your shorts. The skin there burns, heat radiating off of you like a furnace, and it’s as if you enjoy the touch, as you take Ellie’s hands and cup them with your own, keeping them against your skin, before dragging them around your hips.

Ellie catches your eyes, breath lodged in her throat.

It stays there while you run her fingers up and under your shirt, painstakingly moving her hands over your stomach, over your rib cage, and Ellie’s heart swells in her chest as the tips of her fingers feel the underwire of your bra.

Ellie can’t decide what she wants.

There are too many options – kiss you, undress you – and she so badly wants all of them all at once. When you finally drag her palms over your breasts, she feels your nipples pressing through the thin and lacey fabric, and her belly swirls, the pressure pushing low.

Your breath rattles in your chest. “You okay?” Ellie asks, and instead of answering, you bow down to kiss her.

This kiss is different. It’s desperate. Tinged with the need to tell Ellie it's okay, it's okay, as you slip your tongue in her mouth. She groans.

It’s deep and low, echoing around the room, and there’s a fleeting second where Ellie is embarrassed, but you swallow the sound down, hips reacting, pressing into her crotch.

Ellie aches with the memory of before.

She wants to tease you, wants to say, you gonna come like this again? but you drag your lips over to her neck, and she whines pathetically.

Oh fuck, she thinks. Ellie goes liquid, like syrup. She melts into the mattress, hands relax on your breasts, and just – lets you pepper kisses over her throat. Let’s you run your tongue under her jaw, and her hips buck in response. Jolt up into your crotch, and your breathing changes, now coming out in long, deep pulls.

You mark her neck with your mouth, and Ellie feels the suck of your lips in her gut. Her hands go exploring, sliding over your tits, and she rubs her thumbs over your nipples, listening for your breathing stutter.

When you mumble a desperate fuck, into her throat, Ellie suddenly wants you on your back.

She knocks the pair of you over, and you fall back onto your mattress, grinning up at Ellie with a wild smile. You take her in. Eyes flutter over her like butterflies, taking in her statue as she sits on top of you. Suddenly, though, your smile changes. Goes nervous.

“What does this mean for us?” you whisper, and Ellie shakes her head, moving to kiss you again. Now on top, she swells with the feeling of control.

“Don’t think about it,” she mumbles, then tastes cherry again.

Ellie’s a hypocrite because all she does is think about it.

Up all night in bed, thinking about it. Thinking about how she wants you as her girlfriend, but she hasn’t even taken you out on a date yet.

Doesn’t know about your family. Your friends. Doesn’t know your favourite movie, or colour. All she knows is your weed order. The thought makes her sick with shame.

The mumble of her name coming out of your lips brings her back.

You stuff her shirt in your hands, and Ellie wants it off.

Wants your hands all over her, wants to grind her hips into yours like you did hers, with your hands on her hips guiding her.

“Wanna see,” you mumble, tugging at her shirt, and Ellie’s skin prickles.

She drags her hips back, the seam of her jeans pushing against her crotch, and sits up straight. She grins, all teeth, then fists the shirt, pulling it up her chest. The lines of her muscles are revealed, along with a few white scars that dot her stomach and back. She’s wearing a casual cotton bra, but you look at her as if she’s donning silk. “So pretty,” you whisper, blinking up at her, and that shame that sat inside of her dispels. You slide your hands over her chest, and the warmth of them pushes into her bloodstream. “Pretty?” Ellie quirks, needing something to distract herself from the languid movement of your hands. You trail your fingers over her ribcage, then push your pointer up her breast bone, mouth open an inch, ignoring her, and Ellie’s limbs go jelly.

You’ve got your goddamn explorer hat on as you drag the base of your palm between her tits, your spare hand lazily rubbing her hip bone.

“What’re you doing?” she asks, words coming out as a breathy whisper. You flash a small smile, “committing you to memory.” A dangerous pressure builds in Ellie’s heart. Her cheeks bloom red, her skin prickles, and she feels light-headed, as if you’ve removed all the oxygen in the room.

You hook a finger around the elastic of her bra and tug her forward. Ellie catches herself on the mattress beside your head just as you kiss her, pushing your tongue into her mouth and crotch up into hers.

She shudders.

The kiss is all tongue, desperate, as she bumps her nose against yours to taste you. She’s preoccupied with your mouth, so she doesn’t notice your hand sliding between her thighs. When she does, she forgets how to kiss. “S-Shit,” Ellie stutters, caught off guard. Your touch is gentle, just, lazily rubbing your fingers into her jeans. There’s a lot of fabric between you, thus Ellie’s left the chase the friction.

Resting her forehead against yours, she clutches the sheets beside you, rolling her hips into your hand. She blinks at you, opening her eyes, and you’re staring at her like she’s an artwork – trying to memorise every brush stroke.

You bump your nose against hers, flexing your palm. Ellie hums again.

“You sure you wanna do that?” she jokes, clutching onto any semblance of sanity. You give her a lazy smile, lips wet with her spit. “’s ’only fair.

“Not –” Ellie starts, but chokes, your knuckle just hitting the top of her pussy. Her eyes flutter closed, mouth opening an inch, and you must sense the shift, because you keep your hand there, nodding, knowing what she was going to say before she said it.

“Gonna make you come 'cause I want to, not ‘cause I have to.” “Fuck – okay,” Ellie relents. There’s no way she’s going to leave in the middle of this. She can’t. She’d probably collapse mid-way. A pressure pushes between her thighs, hot and constant. Her pussy clenches around nothing and she whispers something. Sounds like your name.

Been a minute since she’d had a hand other than hers between her legs.

Ellie lazily chases your palm, thinking that If she moves too quickly, this moment will poof into a dream. Doesn’t want to scare it away.

To hide her red face, she nuzzles into your throat, roles reversed from that morning, except Ellie didn’t have her hand between your thighs. She tells herself it’s her turn to do that next.

You pop the button on her jeans, and Ellie glances down at your hands, seeing/feeling them tug at the band.

You turn into her head, “Jesus, these painted on or something?” and Ellie breathes a laugh, “Didn’t expect someone else taking them off.” “I need easy access from now on, only sweatpants.” “Noted.” Your smile goes silly, “preferably those grey ones you wore when I came over that time, when I made you dinner.” “Thought you liked those ones, caught you staring at my ass.” “No you did not.” Ellie kisses your neck, “It’s so sexy when you gaslight me.” You huff, “You gonna help me take them off, or watch me struggle?” and a slow grin builds across Ellie’s face. “Wanna see you work for it.” “Well, you’ll be watching for a while. Enjoy the show!” you joke, trying to drag the denim off of her hips. You grunt loudly, brow furrowed as you tug.

Finally, you throw your hands up with a huff, then pout and cross your arms. Ellie’s leaned back at this point, and she mimics your face.

“Defeated by The Gap,” Ellie sighs. “I’m gonna put in a complaint. Tell them that their stupid jeans stopped my girlf—” you catch yourself, eyes widening.

Ellie goes still.

There’s a second where she hears the crowd cheering in the background, but it turns out it’s a kid crying on the street outside.

“What did you just say?” she asks, tone filled with awe. She cannot help the shit-eating grin that splays across her face. It’s so big that you have to cover your face from the shine. “I said nothing.” “Um, I heard something.” “You didn’t hear anything.” “I heard the word girl and then an ‘F’ sound.” “You didn’t! I’m telling you; you’re hearing things. Going crazy.” “Ummmmmm,” Ellie drags, squinting down at you.

She tries to pull your hands away, but you won’t budge. “I heard something!” “I was going to say, girl fellow!” “Girl what?” Ellie laughs, eyes alight with humour.

“Yeah—” you start, pulling your hands away and masking your features. You’re a beacon of control.

“Girl fellow. It’s this new thing I coined. A girl who is a fellow, as in friend.” Ellie squints, “Fellow means boy, you weirdo.” “No it—” you frown. “Does it?” “Yes, have you not seen Robin Hood?” You pause, “No.” “Oh my god!” Ellie erupts. “How have you not seen Robin Hood? I used to be obsessed with it.” “Everything makes so much sense now.” “The fuck does that mean?”

You push your hands into her hips, fingers tickling. “Do you have a pointy bow and arrow at home? A little green hat?” “Shut up,” Ellie laughs, trying to bat your hands away. She catches them. “That makes so much sense,” you start, joking around, “You’re far too into social justice.” “How are you bullying me about world change? You just called me your girlfriend!” “Fellow!” you correct. “That means girl boy!” You grin triumphantly, “Welcome to the 21st century, Ellie.” She rolls her eyes, “you’re so annoying.” “Your jeans are annoying.” “My jeans are cute.” You point a finger at her, “I’m gonna fight your jeans.”

Ellie dips low and kisses you, mumbling into your mouth, “mm, my money’s on the jeans,” and you wrap your thigh around her ass, using it as leverage to roll her onto her back.

You suddenly slide down, standing at the edge of the bed and shoving your hands into the band of her trousers. With a determined look, you manage to pull them down, “fuck your jeans.”

They end up on the floor, and Ellie’s left in a pair of boxers and her bra. She’d clap for you if she wasn’t so suddenly dazed. You appear on top of her, and she automatically wraps her arms around your shoulders, humming contently as you kiss her.

When her brain comes back to reality, she manages to switch positions again, knees pressing beside your thighs. With a tentative touch, you trace your hand over her stomach, distracting her with the wet of your kiss.

When your fingers touch the band of her underwear, Ellie’s breathing changes. It’s all suddenly real.

“Wanna stop?” you breathe, tone sincere and gaze gentle. Despite the bubble in her chest, Ellie has never wanted to continue something more. She shakes her head, eager. “Fuck no.”

Your sweet giggle distills the tension. “Good,” you grin, sliding your fingers lower, “wanted to do this since I met you.”

The tips of your fingers drag over her clothed pussy, gentle and soft. Ellie releases a shaky breath.

There’s just a piece of flimsy cotton stopping you from skin on skin, but she’s so wet that it feels that way, anyway.

Her eyes flutter closed, the sensation lulling her, fueling her with dopamine, and she buries her head in the crook of your neck, flexing her hips to meet your hand.

You drag the corner of your knuckle up her clothed slit, pushing into her clit when you get to the top. Ellie groans quietly, and you grin into the side of her head, rolling your knuckle into her, and she moans.

“Fuck, s’good.” “Yeah?” you ask, and Ellie nods. Propelled by her quiet desperation, you twist your hand and push a finger against her damp clit – the wet fabric showing the lines of her pussy – and roll it gently.

The fabric in the way makes it dirtier, more desperate, and makes Ellie moan pathetically into your neck, forgetting you’ve got roommates. She chases your hand.

Hips stir up, wet heat coiling in her belly and pushing into her cunt. Is this what you felt? That morning in her apartment?

The fire is quick to rise, and it’s only been a couple of minutes of her grinding into your palm when her pussy clenches, heat pushing at the back of her clit.

“Mm,” she hums, inhaling a shaky breath. Her thighs begin to shake. “Baby, you’re gonna make me come,” she hushes into your ear, and she swears she hears you whimper. You turn to look at her, and pout, “Want it on my fingers, Ellie,” you admit, eyes innocent, wide with wonder, and Ellie’s jaw clenches.

Her hips lose their rhythm, and how the fuck is she in control right now? She doesn’t feel that way. Feels like she lost any semblance of control when you flipped her over and pulled her jeans off. “Fuck, okay. Okay. Shit. Take my – fuck,” she stumbles, and you push your fingers under the band of her underwear, asking, “Can I?” in such a pure tone that Ellie has to close her eyes and breathe through her nose. “Yeah baby,” she nods, “s’okay. Fuck. It’s okay.”

You drag your fingers through her pubic hair – eyes on her the whole time – before you stuff your pointer and index against her wet clit. You start to roll the nerve, and Ellie chokes on her spit. Her body shudders.

She’s in your goddamn dorm room in your sorority with your hand down her pants.

You’re watching her intently. Glazed eyes gazing at her features, fingers controlling the way her brows furrow and cheeks bloom red. It’s wholly intimate. Ellie’s slick coats your fingers.

“So hot, Ellie.”

Her body flushes – she has to bury her head in your neck again, where she nods. She grinds her cunt into your hand, forcing you to press harder and roll quicker. “Mm, fuck,” Ellie swears, spit dribbling over her lips, drunk on your fingers, “Fuck, m’ gonna come.” She feels the familiar pressure behind her clit, the heat that sears – almost painful. You twist into her, nodding, saying, “Give it to me El’s.” Then, “please.”

The wave rushes up and pulls her under, rendering her voiceless and still, before it crashes, and she gushes over your hand, chasing the spin of your fingers as she shakes. “Mm, god, god, shit” she whimpers, voice muffled by your neck, trying so hard to keep quiet, but fuck, she’s not in control of her body. She clenches the duvet as her pussy clenches and un-clenches, clit spasming, whole body slick with sweat.

Her hips grind into your fist, eyes rolled back, mumbling curses into your throat, and she’s clenching the duvet so tight that her knuckles go white.

Then someone calls your name.

You freeze. Fingers go still.

Ellie wants to cry, but somewhere in her drunk mind, she realises the severity of the situation.

When you don’t respond, your name gets called again.

“Fuck,” you curse, then “Ellie, baby, I’m sorry, you gotta get off of me.”

Ellie manages to find the energy to roll off of you, and you get up, legs stumbling before you reach the door.

“Y-Yeah?” you call out through the wood.

Ellie lays boneless on your bed, breathing deeply through her nose. Her boxers are pushed low, pubic hair on show, but she doesn’t have the power to sort herself out.

She should be nervous at the idea of being caught, but fuck, her clit still throbs with the memory of your fingers. She languidly blinks at the ceiling, trying to calm her heart.

How the fuck did that just happen?

“Meeting soon, you coming?” the faceless voice calls, and you mumble a curse before saying, “Yeah! Gimmie a minute.”

When you turn to her, Ellie’s already gazing at you. You quirk a small, sad smile, and Ellie nods, understanding.

“Lemme just,” she starts, rubbing her face, “find the energy.” You giggle at her. “Let me help you put your stupid jeans on.” Ellie props herself up by her elbows, beaming, “My top down there, too?” “Got it.”

She manages to shove her jeans on, wincing when she knocks her sensitive clit. You eye her.

“Listen, I—” you start, clearly flustered. You motion to her, “—Would take better care of you after but.” “Whoa – what?” Ellie cuts you off, shoving her shirt on with a frown.

You purse your lips, “like, cook you dinner or kiss your forehead or something.” “You’ve already cooked me dinner, and you can kiss my forehead whenever you want.” “I mean. I don’t usually make a girl come and then dip.” “Oh,” Ellie frowns, “But this is different.” You pout, “Still feel bad.” “Don’t,” Ellie firmly spouts. She takes your hands and kisses your forehead. “I feel good, you should feel good.” “It was good?” you ask, suddenly lit up and eager to hear more. Ellie laughs. Her body is filled with a warm, buttery feeling. She’s still drunk on you, lethargic from coming, and she doesn’t have the space to panic.

Her subconscious tries to tell her everything that has happened that should cause her concern.

She nearly called you her girlfriend, then made you come on her double bed with a flowery bedspread. Now she feels bad because she doesn’t have enough time to give you adequate aftercare. Dude.

Still, Ellie shows no alarm when she kisses your forehead and says, “I’ll call you.”

It’s only when she gets home, looks in the mirror and sees her lips glittery with your lip-gloss, that reality sets in.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams fan fic #the last of us #the last of us 2 #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #smut #ellie williams the last of us #dealer!ellie williams #tlou2 #tlou

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killakalx · 4 months

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mind blown by the jealousy fic! i just love ur characterization of dick.

also now you've got me thinking abt him and sloppy seconds. like imagine you've gone to someone else and let them fuck you, but they just couldn't get you off, and you're just so frustrated. then you show up at his door in wrinkled clothes, still dripping wet, hair messed up and lips bitten red and his brain just whites out. maybe he's still not jealous, not exactly, but he is so pleased with himself. cause now it's not just "she knows where home is" but "she knows nobody else will ever do it better, no matter how hard they try." then he's teasing about how wet you are, how bad you wanna come, how easy you are for him, and he gets you off with just his fingers first just to prove he can. he has you damn near begging before he even fucks you for real, and even then he does it torturously slow, taking his time and making you whine for it while he touches you all over. before he lets you come he asks "who did it better, me or him?"

ur posts put some sort of devil in me istg <3 🫐

“i just love ur characterization of dick” ☹️❤️ im kissing u rn berry. this got longer than it was supposed to but that’s ok bc i’m in love with our best friend dick grayson

i think right here is where dick starts feeling bad. not in a sappy way, but not in a condescending way either. he opens the door and he just ogles at how sorry you look, contemplating how he’d go about it, but he just gives you that charming smile and waits for your green light.

say you’re more embarrassed than anything else. tried to go home and get yourself off, making yourself look worse in all the most miserable ways. all you give him is that look. the lowkey “if you tell anyone about this i’ll kill you” look. in that case he’s teasing you the entire time, shit talking whoever it was that left you dry while carelessly dipping his fingers into your mouth and getting you soaked with just his hand. that’s when he’s more than willing to keep you embarrassed and begging for him.

“stop being a dick,” you’d scold him with the same joke he’s heard a million times, trying to hold his wrist in place and keep him inside of you. then he just stops moving his fingers and the way you ache around them has his ego practically leaking out of his cock.

“did you fake it or what?” he talks over you when you start insulting him out of impatience. he likes continuing conversation as if it’s one of those old talks you two would have. yk…. without him being knuckles deep inside you.

just in case you didn’t hear him right, you’re giving him that confused look and still rolling your hips for some sort of relief “hn… what?”

“you had to act like you came,” dick explains despite being sure you knew what he meant, “or did he just assume you did after he gave you a sorry excuse of a fuck?”

“mind your business.”

“i’ve got you leaking around my fingers like a desperate slut and this isn’t my business?” he laughs at the gall you have but he is very serious bae. just before the banter continues he reaches deeper inside you, curling up and making you lose your words. “you’d tell me if you wanna cum so bad, babe.” now he’s got you spilling all the deets and his pace speeds up after every sentence, telling you to take your time and spit it out, huh?

however!! imagine you show up so frustrated there are tears in your eyes. you’re sick of everything. stress and stress and more stressed, piled on top of sexual frustration??? dick’s making you cum until the light in your brain goes out. he’s there for you, always. whether it’s pulling you in for a long hug or sitting you in his lap with your clothes stripped. most of the time it’s both.

“i know, i know,” he’s consoling you while kissing sucking at your pretty tits, thumb massaging your clit as your head rests on his shoulder. “let me fix this, mkay? stop cryin’.” on nights like these??? the way he fucks you makes you forget he’s not your husband of five years and counting. and after a while neither of you are too sure how to feel about that.

#can i call u berry? it’s so cute #🫐 anon !!#kali ;; inbox #kali ;; wet dreamz #kali ;; dg #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x black!reader

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murdrdocs · 1 year

Text

saber tooth | f. odair

description. just two days out from the Games, your mentor and best friend, finnick odair, comes to your room late at night in a mutual fit of insomnia to fulfill your (potentially) dying wish

includes. SMUT 16+, fem!reader, oral f!receiving, fingering, loss of virginity sans p in v, canon-complicit angst, mentions of finnick’s trafficking, best friends to lovers, reader’s a tribute, finnick’s her mentor, extremely brief misunderstandings, soft dom finnick, pleasure dom finnick, brief mention of drug use (one line), finnick and annie were never together but he mentored her, he rlly cares abt r :((, giggly sex (sometimes), throw away line abt lack of body hair but i rlly like body hair

a/n: whaddup whaddup! this started as a blurb but it um ,,, clearly expanded. there’s no p in v simply bc im so tired rn however i would like to continue this in the future if my mind would allow it :) also the title has nothing to do with the fic i was just listening to easily by chuck inglish

word count: 4k+

part 2

A week of anticipation, festivities, and celebration for the Capitol, was a week of anxiety, tears muffled into pillows, and wishing to be somewhere else for you.

The week leading up to the 72nd Hunger Games.

The Reaping, Opening Ceremony, and the three days of training that followed were mostly a blur. Your body picked up on the techniques you would need to survive, and with the help of Finnick, you’d managed to commit them to memory. You remembered the way you’d been trained to sit and talk and the jokes you should slip into conversation with Caesar tomorrow night.

All of their training was working, and Finnick had told you that you had a high chance of making it out of that area. A high chance. Nothing was guaranteed at this point in your life. Which is why you needed to do a few final things.

The door to your bedroom slides open. You lift your head from the pillow and squint. There’s a little light coming from the hallway, and it backlit the figure. But even without it, you would know who was coming to see you. The only person who’d been coming to see you since the arrival at the Tribute Center.

“Hey, Finn,” you mumble, resting your head back against the pillow that’s always cool.

Finnick takes a few steps into your room, stopping to flick a switch that only turns on the lamps beside your bed, and the two ambient ones in the corners.

“Hey, sweetheart,” his voice is raspy, as if he’s tired, but not to the point of already greeting sleep. It’s a little later than it should be, you were recommended to have gone to sleep two hours ago but you couldn’t. There was too much going on in your head, too many unsaid words and undone actions. You couldn’t sleep with your consciousness this awake.

Finnick voices the matter. “You can’t sleep, can you?”

You shake your head, deciding to sit up a little, your bare lower half still secure underneath the thick comforter. Your room was always cold, and the silk sheets mirrored the temperature. Physically, you were the most comfortable you’d ever been, wearing the softest cotton undergarments, and a silk button up nightshirt, your toes warm beneath fuzzy socks. But the weight on your mind was the complete opposite.

With the way Finnick looks at your face, he can tell just how exhausted you are.

“Want something to help with that?” He asks as he sits at the edge of the bed, close but entirely too far from you. “A drink? Pills? The Capitol has it all, you know.” The way he says it is the opposite of marveling, the words laced with annoyance and frustration. His tone prompts a small smile from you.

“‘M okay. I trust my body to do what it’s supposed to.” Finnick’s head is turned down, but you see the way the corner of his lip curls up.

He lifts his head to fully smile at you, one of sympathy and pity and sadness. His hand reaches out and his palm rests over the outline of your shin. Far too many layers are between the bare skin on both of you, but you don’t say so. You just give Finnick an equally sad smile, expressing your dismay for your situation, and you begin to pick at your nails in your lap.

“What’re you doing in here? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Finnick shakes his head. “No such luck for me either.” He shrugs as if he’s used to it and you remember that he’s been in this position too. Just a few years ago, a young boy, your best friend, was sitting in this bed, with similar thoughts weighing on his mind. And now his best friend was in that position.

You push the sheets back, exposing the beginnings of the skin on your thigh, and you pat the space beside you. “C’mon,” you encourage, not ceasing your patting until Finnick scoffs and slides his slippers off, crawling up to slip under the covers with you.

The bed is larger than you’d ever seen, something your escort called a ‘bed fit for a king’, but Finnick chooses to sit right beside you, the heat of his body warming yours.

“We could watch something. What plays on the television in the Capitol?” Finnick’s sitting so close to you that you can feel him shrug. Whenever you reach over to the bedside table, pulling the drawer open to grab the remote, you come back to sit even closer to him, where your arms are pressed flush against each other.

“Mostly shows about the lives of celebrities here.”

You gasp, turning to face him. “Is that rumor about you appearing on some reality show true?” Finnick’s ears redden and that’s enough confirmation that you need. Your head throws back with a hearty laugh, and you click on the TV with hopes of finding an episode.

Finnick sits quietly beside you as you click through the channels, reading the titles and watching maybe a second or two of content before you decide to try the next thing. When you’ve gone through most channels, you land on the one that will play the Games.

He says your name, as a warning perhaps, but you click it anyway, seeing that they’re talking about you.

“Now the odds of this one making it out are pretty high. She’s pretty, smart, and trained by the Finnick Odair,” a clip of you and Finnick appears, one that must’ve been taken backstage during the Opening Ceremony. He’s standing close to you, crouched down just enough to meet your eye level. You’re obviously nervous, and he’s obviously attempting to soothe those nerves, cracking jokes with a hand held to your heart, both of yours over it. “The Capitol’s Prince.” The announcer pronounces those words clearly, enunciated, making sure every late night viewer understands Finnick’s alternate title.

Clips of Finnick throughout the years show and you grow silent, watching how he commands a room better than you ever could.

“If she were to make it out, I’m sure she could become the Capitol’s Princess, right?” The announcer smiles just as the remote is snatched from your hands and the TV is clicked off, ridding the bedroom of the colorful hues and leaving you and Finnick with the yellow light from your lamps.

“Why did you–?” Finnick’s interrupting. He’s thrown the remote to the side of him and he’s turned to face you.

“I want you to make it out of the Games, I really do.” You nod, watching the way his chest rises and falls with breaths that fill the hesitant silence. “But, I don’t want what happened to me to happen to you.”

“What do you mean? You don’t want me to be loved and adored by the Capitol?” You say it a tad bit sarcastically, but your tone dulls down when you notice how serious his face is.

He shakes his head. “No, I really don't.” You scoff, beginning to get upset over the idea that a night that was turning peaceful, began to turn on its head. “Because everything comes with a price here,” he says your name, making sure you’re listening. “The ‘love’ the Capitol has for me is ingenuine, they love me like I’m an object. Not a person with thoughts and feelings.”

“Finnick, I don’t think I understand.” But you do, you really do.

He tells you as much, that same sad smile from earlier on his lips.

Before you can speak, he does. “Look, I came in here to ask you what you want.”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Before the Tributes I mentor get sent off, I like to fulfill their wish. In case they don’t…”

“In case they don’t make it back.” He nods. “So a dying wish?” Another nod.

“So, what d’you want?”

You know what you want. You’ve wanted it since you were a teenager, watching Finnick, the most loved victor, leave for the Capitol and come back weeks later. Since you watched him train Annie Cresta and everyone, including yourself, believed there to have been something between them. Since he walked into your room just 20 minutes ago.

“What I want, I don’t think I can ask you for.” You speak low, your voice a whisper. Your head rests on the headboard behind you, turned to face Finnicks.

He shakes his head gently. “I have connections. I can guarantee almost anything.”

“No, Finn.” You don’t think you can ask him for this. Especially with what he’s essentially just told you. It would be selfish, it would be insincere, it would ruin the friendship you have between you two.

“I can’t.”

His head’s already facing yours, and he brings one of his hands up to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing the skin.

“Yes, you can.”

“No, Finn, I can’t.” Your eyes sting, as does your nose, and you know there’s no use in pretending the tears aren’t there. He’s seen them, he’s acknowledged them by swiping his thumb under your eye, catching the first drop.

“I would do anything for you. Just say the word.”

You search his eyes, his face, the tip of his ears, his Adam’s Apple. You’re looking for his tell. But it’s not there. It’s just Finnick. Your Finnick. And he wants the best for you.

You’re the most vulnerable you’ve ever been at this moment; sitting in a bed in the Tribute Center, just two days out from the Hunger Games, a period of uncertainty that is life or death; your best friend, and unrequited crush, as your mentor, having to hold your pieces together at least until the end of this.

There’s no point in hiding anything. You know you need to lay it all out. So you do.

“Even take my virginity?”

The air is still. Stiff. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t breathe. His thumb halts. He doesn’t blink.

You sit there, watching him, holding in the sob that threatens to wrack across your body.

“Forget it. I’m sor–”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes.”

There’s a moment where you don’t act. A moment where disbelief trickles down your body like the tears from your eyes do on your face.

“Finn…”

“I would do anything for you. I have wanted you since we were young, but I thought…”

“Doesn’t matter what you thought then. Not anymore. We go from here now.”

And there is the nagging possibility that all of this could be because of your potential fate. Maybe he’s humoring you, or letting you in on that final step of human intimacy before your life ends. You prefer not to think about it. Especially whenever Finnick’s moving closer to you and you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your lips are almost touching, the tanned skin of his face is right in front of you, the same goes for the pink of his lips. He’s almost there, then he says, “Are you sure?”

“‘M sure.” And Finnick is kissing you. Finnick Odair is finally kissing you.

He kisses you softly, sweetly, with precision and a gentle nature. As if he’s afraid that he’ll do something wrong and hurt you.

You kiss him back in a similar fashion, just with added timidness that Finnick doesn’t possess.

Your hands raise slowly, in choppy motions that are both due to your uncertainty, and the distraction of finally having the man of your dreams kiss you like you’re made of porcelain. But you manage to get your hands to Finnicks torso, palms pressed flat against his thin shirt so that you can feel the abs along his torso.

You’ve felt them before, in time of play fighting, or whenever he would have you replicate his breathing or form. But touching along his torso in this circumstance is different. Now, your touch ignites a fire within you. It makes Finnick grip the back of your neck and pull you closer with one hand, the other sliding the covers away and hooking his hand at the back of your thigh, pulling your left leg over your right.

Your hands slide down to the hem of his shirt, slowly starting to slide it up until he gets the hint and pulls away just enough for you to slide the shirt between you two, up and over his head. Then he’s back on you.

When you sigh blissfully into his mouth, he starts to kiss you like he’s desperate to have you close. Like he wants to engulf your entire being until you’re intertwined.

The best you can do is physically move closer to him, letting the hand on the back of your thigh guide you to straddling his lap.

It’s then that Finnick pulls away from you. Your hands trail up to cup his cheeks, moving back to play with the golden blonde locks that seemed to never be out of place.

He stares up at you, sea-green eyes pulling you even further into a state of enchantment. Whenever he tilts his head, eyes stuck on you, and kisses into your palm, you melt. His hand lifts to gently circle around your wrist, nimble fingers rubbing little circles into the skin.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Finnick speaks. “I need you to remember that even if I’m doing the work, you set the pace. You tell me what you like and don’t like. You tell me when to go and when to stop. Okay?”

“Okay.”

And then you’re back at it. His hands circle around to your lower back, pushing into the curvature to bring your chest closer to him. He uses the position to his advantage, dipping his head to kiss at the exposed bits of your skin; your neck, collarbone, the starts of your cleavage. He quickly becomes frustrated with the lack of skin, and you bite back a smile as you gently nudge his head back and begin to undo the buttons.

He watches you in a trance-like state with a look that seems akin to awe. You can’t help but tease him just a bit, shifting in your position atop his crotch and slowing your work on the buttons.

Finnick groans and his hands leave your lower back to push your own hands away, deciding to undo your buttons himself, grumbling something under his breath about you being a tease.

When you giggle above him, Finnick has you pushed onto your back in what seems like the blink of an eye. Really, it did happen quick, but your eyes were already closed from giggling so hard, so reopening them to Finnick above you, your shirt opened and your barely confined tits in Finnick’s eyeline, is disorienting.

“Jesus, look at you,” Finnick mumbles. And he is. His eyes are hungirly skirting over your figure, taking it all in. From your eyes, to the bra that you wear, all the way to the cotton panties that hug your hips.

His gaze stops at your lower half for a while, watching your stomach rise and fall with your breaths and the way there’s definitely a little wet patch on your panties.

“What am I gonna do with you?” He mumbles under his breath. The question is rhetorical, and meant only for him. But, in a fit of nerves, you answer anyway, needing to do something other than lay there.

“I don’t know, Finn, there’s a lot that you can do. You can go down on me, give me your fingers, your cock.”

His eyes lift to yours, shock evident within them. “Did you just say the word ‘cock’?” He laughs between the words, that perfectly pearly white smile greeting you.

“Yeah,” you say, laughing through the syllables too.

Finnick shakes his head with that smile still present.

He swears under his breath but then his fingers are playing with the hem of your panties and you’re back under, focused on what he could possibly plan to do next. He hums, eyes on you, eyebrows raised.

It takes you a second to realize what his intentions were, but you do soon enough. “Keep going. Please.”

The tips of his fingers reach below the band of your panties. He begins to pull them down, just until your hip bones and the start of your mound becomes visible. At first, you disgraced the Capitols groomers' work of ridding your entire body of hair, but you can’t help but feel a little grateful that they did. You knew that Finnick wouldn’t care either way.

You lift your hips, letting Finnick pull your panties over the curve of your ass. When they sit at the halfway point of your thighs, he lowers his head and presses his lips to the area right above the waistband. And he continues to do so, sliding your underwear down and kissing through the journey.

The last kiss he gives you is on the arch of your foot, right before he guides the garment over the remaining part of your body, throwing them off to the side of the bed.

Finnick sits back on his heels then, just looking at you, looking at your legs which are just almost crossed at the knee, your ankles together and one knee raised slightly above the other. You’re shielding the most vulnerable part of you, hiding it almost. But when his green eyes meet your center, briefly meeting your eyes, you slowly part your legs, allowing him to see you in all of your glory.

Finnick sucks in a sharp breath of air, his chest rising with it. He doesn’t let it out until your legs are completely opened and bent at the knee, inviting him in. You sit halfway up on your elbows, watching him, waiting for him.

It’s not long until he makes a move, just a few tense moments and then Finnick’s kicked into action.

His calloused hands on your knees, sliding around to the back of your thighs as he lays on his stomach, directly facing your cunt.

When he speaks, you can feel his breath on you. “I wanna taste you, sweetheart. Just for a bit. Is that alright?”

His eyes are visible over your mound, but they’re not focused on you just this once. They’re focused on your cunt, scanning it, taking it all in almost as if he’s committing this moment to his very strong memory.

You’re a little starstruck, reckoning with the notion that Finnick wants to give you head. Therefore, you sit there in stunned silence, attempting to find the words to deliver your over enthusiastic agreement. But Finnick takes your silence negatively.

“You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to, honey. Just wanna make you feel good. That’s what I’m here for.” And there are those eyes again. They’re pleading, but also making you feel comfortable, reminding you that you’re in charge.

You smile gently, nodding. “Yes.”

And the first lick has your head spinning. His tongue is warm, and wet, and he licks a long stripe from your leaking entrance to your clit. It’s slow, and methodical. He licks your juices up, but they’re coming back tenfold by the time he’s pressed a kiss to your clit.

A surprised moan pushes up your throat. The feeling has your hips pushing into his face on their own accord, your elbows slipping out from under you and your head throwing back onto the mattress.

Finnick disconnects from you for just a second to let out a pleased groan, but the absence is too much for you already. You’re wiggling your hips, searching for him.

Finnick laughs and the sound has heat rising through you. “‘M still here. Not leaving this pussy anytime soon.”

He lives up to his promise immediately. His mouth’s back on you, licking and sucking on your most sensitive parts.

It’s now that you remember how experienced Finnick is. How knowledgeable he is about the general spots of someone’s body. And he’s able to apply that knowledge to your body, with the help of your zealous responses.

You’re moaning, your back arching, your hands gripping the sheets. Your knees bend more, your legs spread more, it’s all more and more and more. You want more from Finnick. You need more.

You’re communicating that fact when you finally have enough courage to fist a hand into Finnick’s hair, and it’s like he’s rewarding you when he slyly begins to probe a finger at your tight entrance.

You’re clenched, far from relaxed, but with a deep breath, you’re loose enough for him to slide in to the first knuckle, then the second, then all the way, his single digit comfortable within your walls.

Finnick fucks you with his finger, aiding the penetration with his pretty pink lips around your pink nub. He sucks, the pressure making your head spin, your consciousness in the clouds to the point where you don’t notice another of Finnick’s deft fingers teasing your entrance.

“Another?” he asks, voice barely able to be heard due to his proximity to your cunt.

“Uh-huh,” is all the affirmation you can give.

It’s a little tight and uncomfortable at first, but once his digits are evened out and curling in you, and his tongue is lapping up your juices like it’s water, you’re riding so high in a blissed out state that discomfort is the last thing on your mind.

Your approaching orgasm becomes known to you quicker than you can anticipate. It’s like all of a sudden there’s tension in your lower abdomen, begging for your attention, begging to be released.

“Finnick, Finn,” he hums, not stopping any of his ministrations. “‘M so close. Almost there.”

You hadn’t thought it to be possible but Finnick gives you more. His fingers fuck you faster and harder, his cheeks hollow as he alternates between sucking along your nerves and stroking his tongue is the areas that you’re most sensitive.

It feels so fucking good, a pleasure you’d never experienced in your life. You couldn’t imagine being in this position with anyone other than your best friend, someone you trusted with your entire being. It’s as if he knows your body better than you do, because sooner than you would’ve liked, your back is arching and your legs are lifting off the bed and your nails are digging into Finnick’s scalp, all signs that your orgasm is right there and you cum with a loud cry that melts into breathy moans.

Finnick pulls his fingers out of your cunt but his mouth stays on you, placing gentle kisses and kitten licks along the slicked area. When your legs have lowered and your breath has evened out, he pulls his head away from you, a wince leaving his lips.

“Darling,” he starts, receiving an affirmative hum in response. “You’re pulling my hair out.”

“Oh, shit, sorry.” Your hand lets go of his hair, your body burning with embarrassment. But Finnick’s bright laugh and content smile soothes you.

“‘S okay,” he mumbles as he leans up and presses a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. Your lips mold to his like they were created for each other, and the kiss is slow, methodical, loving.

You whine when he pulls away, but his hands have already hooked under your thighs and he’s pulling you with him as he starts to sit back.

You end up in the position you started in, sitting on Finnick’s lap, your hands on his shoulders.

Under you, you can feel his bulge confined in his pants. You shift a little over it, your throat beating with your heart rate due to the anticipation.

Finnick’s eyes close softly and his head throws back. Your hand rises to push back the bangs of his hair which lay on his forehead, in favor of resting your skin against his.

“Sweetheart,” he groans. “We …. We can’t.”

Your heart drops.

“Huh?”

“I wanna feel you, sweetheart, I swear.” His eyes open to stare at yours and you notice the sincerity in them. It doesn’t do much to lift your spirits, though. “But we can’t. Not yet.”

Your eyebrows furrow, waiting for further explanation. It comes from him quickly.

“I need you in your right mind in the Games. You need to be focused, and only thinking about survival. Nothing else.”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

He chuckles. “Maybe. But we have to play it safe.” A beat. “You trust me, right?”

And you do. Wholeheartedly.

#finnicksworld!#celeste writes thg #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair smut #the hunger games smut #finnick odair x you #finnick odair #the hunger games

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johnnieguilbertsgirlfriend · 2 months

Note

hello!! I was wondering if you could do a johnnie x reader smut where y/n sits on johnnies lap and he fingers her and talks softly to her while doing it 😝

of COURSE i can this is also kinda answering this request!: HIIIIIIIIIIIIIII, how are you? I was wondering if i could request a johnnie x reader (gf) smut where she has a hand kink and johnnie makes her get off on his thigh and his fingers (im such a slut for dom johnnie)

𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 - 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

CONTAINS: angst?, fluff, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), praising, fingering, creampie, squirting (new feature unlocked😱), overstimulation (going round4round)

WC: not sure rn

story below the cut:

——————

throughout the past few weeks, johnnie had been unavailable. whether it was filming, or hanging out with jake and carrington. of course you still saw him, but you missed him. by the time you would wake up, the other side of the bed was already empty. this didn’t only make you sad, but frustrated. you just wanted your boyfriend to be there for you, and have someone to lean on. it was 2 p.m., where once again, you wake up cold, with no arms around you.

y/n: where are you?

johnnie: filming again, sorry baby i’ll be back later

y/n: r we still on for dinner tonight?

johnnie: of course, i’ll see you soon ❤️

y/n: okay have fun, love you :)

you sigh, feeling mentally and physically drained despite not doing a single thing. at least you and johnnie had actually planned for something tonight even with his busy schedule.

——————

sitting at the vanity, you were patting light makeup on your skin, followed by some cute eyeliner and lip gloss. the time was currently 7:30 and the reservation was for 8:15 p.m., so he should be there any minute. throwing on a cute black mini dress, paired with some heels, your outfit was complete.

y/n: helloooo its 7:50

y/n: we need to leave like now

y/n: ?? (delivered)

5 minutes pass, then 20, then an hour. you sat on your phone, scrolling on tiktok before finally accepting the reality of the situation. he wasn’t coming anytime soon. and that’s when you started to cry. taking off your shoes and putting on a hoodie, you crawled on the bed, too lazy to take anything else off.

resting your back on the headboard, you hear the front door unlock and the scuffle of shoes, along with some other voices. johnnie opens the door,

“i’m here i-“

“it’s 9:30.” you say, sniffling.

“what? oh shit sorry i forgot we had plans”

“yeah? you’re sorry? i’ve barely seen you for weeks now and that’s all?”

“babe i swear i wasn’t looking at the time it was just that jake and carrington dragged me to go places and-“

“jake this and carrington that, why does it always have to be about them?”

“because they’re my friends-“

“yeah well i’m your fucking girlfriend,” the room went quiet.

“but you know what? lately it feels like i’m not and maybe it should stay that way.”

“why are you being so dramatic about it?”

you’re furious. you get off the bed, and start walking to the kitchen. johnnie grabs your shoulders, turning you around, and pulling you into a hug. you smell his cologne, starting to break down into tears, burying your face deeper into his chest. deep down, you know he hates seeing you cry and get angry. you just felt so hurt.

“why? why do you have to do this to me. i miss you, i just want you to be with me and hold me. but you’re always too busy.”

he pats your head, running his fingers through your hair, while you let it out. once you collect yourself, you look up at him, with tear stains and a red nose.

“i love you. i’m so sorry for leaving you all the time, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me,”

“and you’re not overreacting.”

johnnie pulls you into a sweet and tender kiss, full of love and affection, but you pull back first. still upset, you look to the ground. he takes your face in his hands,

“let me make it up to you baby.”

he lowers his head to your neck, softly biting at your skin, making you let out a relieve sigh. then he kisses you again, this time being rougher and filled with more lust. you moan as his tongue reaches your mouth. before anyone sees this, he lifts your legs up, leaving kisses on your jaw while taking you back to his room.

he uses your back to close the door, walking towards the bed. he sets you down gently and helps you take your hoodie off. “baby you look amazing in this dress, you’re gonna have to wear it again soon” he pushes you down, trailing kisses from your neck, down to your collarbone. starting to lift your dress up and over your head, taking it off completely, it also reveals a set of black lingere you had put on beforehand.

“you wore this for me y/n?”

“mhm”

“it would look even better off of you”

you hum in response as he leaves hickeys right above your lacy bra. he plants kisses down your chest and stomach, to your core. he takes off his t-shirt and jeans. after, he takes off your panties, covering his finger with your wetness, and inserting it. “just relax angel i’m gonna take such good care of you” you groan as he starts sucking your breasts, giving equal attention, as he pumps another finger into you, increasing the speed a little. your breaths get heavier as you grip the bedsheets. “more m’ please” you whine. he goes even faster as you bite your lip to stop yourself from melting. arching your back for more friction against his hand, he uses another finger to rub your clit. “yeah baby thats it, just cum on my fingers” while he says that, you feel the knot in your stomach coming undone. “oh shit” you moan out, shaking slightly and cumming.

he pulls down his boxers, taking them off. he’s already really hard, so he coats his dick with your cum. the rooms feels as though it gets hotter with every breath you take in. he teases your clit with his tip, rubbing it slightly. “johnnie just fuck me already please,” you breathe out. “alright princess” he says, pushing fully into you, but slowly, groaning while letting you adjust to his length. “still so tight baby” he says, making you bite your lip, muffling your moan. “don’t do that, i want to hear all your pretty noises.” he picks up the pace, getting faster which each thrust.

“you’re so beautiful y/n” he says, you hold onto his waist, pulling him deeper inside you, hitting the right stop. “uh, fuck” with every sound you make, it encourages him to go harder, and faster. “shit, m’ gonna cum,” you moan out. johnnie’s breath gets heavier as he lifts your leg up, pounding even deeper into you. “inside,” you manage to get out as pleasure washes over you. shortly after, he thrusts one last time, cumming inside you.

he kisses your lips, but it’s not over just yet. johnnie comes closer, “baby, please ride my face” he whispers in your ear. at this point, you felt so overstimulated, but could never say no to that handsome face. you instantly get wetter again, and agree, putting him to the side and then climbing on top of his abdomen. “are you sure?” “one hunder percent,” he says, practically forcing your legs closer to his head.

you hover on top of his face, scared to suffocate him. however, he immediately pulls your thighs down, making you sit entirely while you let a moan out. he starts eating you out, flicking his tongue, somehow making you feel even better. “just like that,” he knew this time that you wouldn’t last that long, especially after the two orgasms you just had. so, he digs his mouth even deeper into your pussy, like the world was ending. this pulled a string of curse words out of you. “oh fuck,” is the last thing you can say, before you feel your whole body shaking, but this time it was new to you. you had squirted from the overstimulation, on johnnie’s face.

after, you get off of him, somewhat embarrassed. “uhm, i don’t know how, uh, that has never happened to me before-“

“no, that was hot.” he kisses your forehead gently before putting his boxers back on and getting a towel for both of you. he cleans you up and gives you a shirt to wear while he goes to grab new sheets. you sit on the floor with dead legs while he changes it for you. “i’m never washing this bed sheets ever again,” he says. “ewww,” you jokingly say back while laughing. he carries you in a cradle, setting you back down on the bed.

“so… are you still mad at me?”

“i could never stay mad at you,” you say, pulling him in for a hug.

—————

ENJOY THIS LADIES, YOUR BITCH IS BACK

currently working on some requests but theres NOT ENOUGH!! please always leave requests in my inboxesss 🩷 see u in the next 1!

#johnnie guilbert x reader smut #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert smut #johnnie x reader

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nkogneatho · 1 year

Text

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐃!𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐒.

#emergency commissions!!

#mlist #taglist #liawot #whoreclub

—Characters- Isagi, Shidou, Nagi, Rin, Bachira, Barou.

—cw: gut clenching, deep, vulg@r analysis, gagging, choking, size kink, hex codes.

—A/n: You can hate me but you can't disagree with me on this. Writing this made my mum whoop my ass because the milk on the stove burnt while I was thinking about the color of Barou's cock.

Reblogs are highly appreciated.

𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐘𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈

code: #EBC4A7

Alright listen. Yoichi's dick is not too girthy, not too long. BUT, it's just perfect. It's 5.7 inch. The head takes up about an inch. It's not fat but rather a bit aligned with the body of his dick. It's perfect because he slides in so easily, your juices and the skin on his shaft creating noises that are nore lewd than your moans. He isn't really veiny but there are slight green traces visible. If you lick a stripe on it, you can feel the veins on your tongue. Yoichi loves the way you adore his dick. You know how his personality switches up so fast in the field when he scores? Yeah he feels the same shit when you have your eyes scan that perfection. He really has a pretty face and a pretty dick. Yoichi is proud of his size though. He doesn't care about having a big monster cock(eyeing bachira rn) because he still has you moaning, screaming, whimpering his name when he rails you after a win.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈

Code: #734125

Here me out. Shidou is just a little longer than average but fat asf. He really doesn't give to fucks about being longer because that fat meat??? That cock will slide in anyone and rewire their brain into loving his size. He is girthy, it looks like a big love sausage (not my words. that's what he calls it. Slut asf). You know when he is getting turned on, his dick does that spring thing where it slowly gets up until his mushroom tip has surpassed the trimmed hair on his crotch. You thought that shit only happens in porn but Mr. Shidpu Ryuusei from big dick community proved you wrong. Speaking of tips, Shidou's tip is fat, one shade lighter than his brown base. He has a pretty visible opening on it. You can always see the way his cum seeps out and falls on your face (if you are lucky enough to dodge the string of it reaching your lashes, blurring your vision because this mf always shoots it near your eyes) He does it on purpose btw.

𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍

Code: #F2BCA5

Oh boy!! Rin has a long one. We're talking about atleast 6.5 to 7 inches. Again the one where his length makes up for the girth. So what if it isn't fat? it's long enough for you to choke on it. It is frustrating because you always struggle swallowing him whole. Rin wants nothing but to hit the back of your throat while your lips atleast brush against his balls but it is impossible to do so without gagging. He knows it, but he'llnevwr show that smug expressionon his face. Instead he's awarding himself for making you gag on it, internally. He always needs to guide you to it. His dick is like a lighter peach color, but the tip is pink. Again the tip isn't what is big but the body of his cock. You have to have a hand at the base to make sure you are stimulating his whole shaft while giving him head.

𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎

Code: #F2CDC2

Nah cuz Nagi really won. He us another guy who's dick is as pretty as him. Like we're talking about immaculate facial feature and a beautiful dick??? *Chefs kiss* Now about the size, it looks the right size, right? But you're proven wrong because he is one of those guys who gets bigger as he is more turned on. You underestimate him, thinking you can take him, but tears brim your eyes when you find his tip kissing the spot, and he isn't even fully in yet. AND HE HAS THE NEVER TO SMILE AS YOU STRUGGLE TO TAKE HIM IN. He isn't even mocking you. That's just Nagi Seishiro's amused expression. Again Nagi has a pretty similar tip as a Isagi. It isn't a big mushroom tip but a bulge that softens as it follows the lines on the cock. Sei has a color somewhat similar between a pink and peach, with a cooler undertone.

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

Code: #EEC0A2

Haha all the best y'all. He is one of those guys who looks short but has a monster cock hidden inside his pants. He is so casual about it though for what??? Like sir hello?? I can see that dick print through the sweats. Bachira never flexed about his size. He didn't care and thought it never mattered. It's so funny that he gets confused when you widen your eyes when he is out of the shower ALL NAKED, and you have to witness it all hard, fat and sprung up becaus ehe was in there thinking about you. He has very visible veins on his cock. You can the dark and light green lines on them. Despite having a big dick, Bachira makes sure to ease it in you. He has a fished-mouth tip, flushed rose pink color, and he cums a lot. I am talking thick ropes spurting on your stomach when he pulls out.

𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐄𝐈

Code: #FCDDC7

I am being biased here but I couldn't give two shits about it because I know y'all will agree. Listen. HORSE COCK BAROU. You know it bitch. Don't deny. He is biiig. You thought he was fucking around when he said he has a big package but DAMN. Homeboy wasn't lying when you saw him in the locker room for the first time, with a boner that surpasses his belly button. You gulp down after a while of hanging your jaw open with awe. Barou had thick veins baby. Dotted condom who??? We have Barou with them thick veins that pleasure you the way no mfing condom can. He also has fat balls which means now you get why he has the balls to call others donkey and that king complex shit of his. About his tip? Yeah it takes up about 1.5 inches of his cock, and pops out like champagne cork when he pulls out of you.

Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk. I am your host, pasi. REBLOG REBLOG REBLOG for part 2

Tagging: @milophiliac @satorhime @witchofoe @gojoest @tetsuclez @pu-re-love @sugardaddyreo @loml-riri @aztecbrujeria @his-saiko

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zeezelweazel · 8 months

Note

A fluffy Leah fic for her comeback???? Maybe r being the one to give her the armband when she gets subbed on or like Leah being shy when asking r to be there during her comeback game??

Leah Williamson| Welcome Home|

______________________________________

LEAH GOT AN ASSIST ON HER FIRST GAME BACK

(I also hit 1k followers 🥹 thank you so much guys)

I wrote this just to get my mind off jilly so it's short, sorry but I'm so sad rn

Finally some fluff to cleanse all the smut

____________________________________________________

You remember the day Leah tore her ACL vividly. You were on the bench, having been subbed off just a few moments before. Nothing compares to the feeling of absolute dread that filled your entire body the moment you saw her go down. When the stretcher brought her on the sidelines Leah looked at you her eyes wide and scared and you knew.

Her recovery was long and hard but you were there. For every small step forward and every step back, for every time she was angry or frustrated or sad you were there. To hold her and brush your fingers through blonde strands of hair and whispers sweet nothings in her ear and kiss her forehead. You loved her when she didn't love herself and you kept loving her as she got stronger and stronger. You watched as she picked up different hobbies and did amazing things she never thought she'd do.

And now you watch as she gets up from the bench to warm up and your heart soars. You grin wide as you try to keep your head in the game but your body is buzzing with excitement at what's to come.

Soon enough you hear the crowd soar and you look at the bench to see Leah, smiling free and happy, ready to take your spot on the field. You didn't care about being subbed off, having done your part, so you run towards her. You carefully slipped off the captain's armband and approached her.

The loud stadium was tooned out as your whole world turned into blonde hair and blue eyes. As you reach the white line you take Leah's hand, holding it longer than necessary, and you slip the arm band on. Leah pulls you in for a quick hug and you don't waste the opportunity to place a chaste kiss on her head.

For the rest of the match your eyes are firmly locked on Leah. You watch closely as she sprints around and goes for tackles, because of course she does, and you watch as she puts in the perfect ball for beth to score. She was perfect in every way even after being gone for so long. Only your Leah would be able to do that.

You jump up from the bench to celebrate, probably too excited for a goal in a match that's already been won, and you wish you could run on the field and scoop her up in your arms.

And that's what you did. The moment the final whistle blew you made a beeline for Leah who was already looking for you. When your eyes met you recognised all those different emotions swirling in her blue irises.

You pull her in for a tight hug, Leah giggling happily as you spin her around.

"I'm so proud of you baby, you did amazing."

Leah smiled at you blushing and placed her head on the safety of your shoulder. She stayed there in your arms until the team had to huddle in a circle while Jonas gave his post match celebratory speech. You squeezed Leah's shoulder from your place next to her when he talked about her injury, her recovery and the fight she had to put up to get here. Leah blinked rapidly, her head moving from the sky yo the ground as she desperately tried to fight off her tears.

You moved your hand to rub her back and Leah gave you a grateful smile even though the tears didn't leave her beautiful eyes.

"You did it baby, I couldn't be more proud."

She turned and placed a kiss on your lips, not caring about the rest of the team. You enjoyed the warm feeling of her lips on yours and the soft hands on your hips. You chuckled at the cheers and whistles of your teammates and leaned your forehead on Leah's.

____________________________________________________

#wlw #female reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #woso #leah williamson #woso fanfics #woso x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc imagine #arsenal x reader

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cannellee · 11 months

Text

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ★

alpha! Ran x omega! Reader (smut)

— tokyo revengers a/b/o smut

(it's really similar to the one I did for kazutora, I'm just exploring the smut world rn😭 I'll do something new and different later, but for now I just want to get used to writing smut.)

cw : free use, facefuck, use of names, cowgirl, rough sex, breeding kink, yandereish if you squint.

my masterlist : ☆

now imagine alpha bonten ran, barely out of his meeting and already looking for you.

he's absolutely exhausted and the bunch of assholes he just dealt with didn't help, now he just wants to use your omega cunt and call it a day.

when he gets his hands on you, you're just about to make dinner, back turned to him, a tight pink apron laced around your waist and this tiny skirt which barely covers your ass.

this sight only is enough to make make him hard. you're always so oblivious to what you're wearing, don't you know the effect you have on him?

you didn't hear him creep up behind you and if it wasn't for the familiar woody laced with iron scent, you would've let out a scream.

ran's quick to undo the knot of your apron and throw it to the side. his head is soon enough digging into your neck, inhaling your scent like it's oxygen.

his tensed shoulders seem to relax a little inside your embrace and you let out soft purrs.

you let him do whatever, understanding that his position in the underworld can get overwhelming, and his work can get the best of him.

ran, who is ordinarily flirty and one to build up tension before you even get into anything, doesn't even utter a word to you.

you slide your fingers through his pink hair, appreciating his own smell and waiting for the moment he'll finally use you.

ran just loves how compliant you are about his desires, the way he could fuck you in the open if he wanted, for everyone to see. you wouldn't complain, say anything or talk back to him.

you love to please him so much, he can't help but take advantage of you, especially when he's in a bad mood.

pushing you to your knees, you're left in front of his pants in a second. ran's not usually silent but you don't need him to speak to understand what he meant.

you bite the zipper of his trousers and his pants are around his ankles in a minute.

you take a moment before continuing your actions, so drunk in his scent you inhale deeply and when ran tugs on your hair, you know it's your cue that he's getting impatient.

your goal isn't to make him frustrated so you begin immediately, licking the fabric of his boxers, your tongue hugging the shape of his cock the best you can. his boxers are dripping wet in no time and so is your chin. you're breathing heavily, kissing noises filling the kitchen.

it's between breathy moans that ran drops the last clothe that was separating your lips from him that you finally got to work.

his dick was huge, you struggle to take it all inside your mouth. but you try anyways, your muffled gags turning ran on even more.

you hear him sigh heavily and his hands are back on your head, gripping your hair it hurts so much. a few tears roll down your cheeks and you fail to suppress a sinful gagging sound when ran finally pushes his whole length into your mouth.

you take him the best you can but you let out a few coughs at the beginning, eyes long gone into the back of your head.

you unintentionally make a mess out of his cock, a string if saliva connecting your lips and his dick when he lets you go to catch your breath.

he lets out a low chuckle, making fun of your desperate state and calls you a good slut for taking him so well. "you're so messy baby"

your jaw is aching, you can barely breath and even then, his scent is the only thing you can breath. with one final push, ran forces his way into your throat even further, and lets you go right after, having other plans for you.

you suck in really deep breath, trying to steady yourself before he asks you anything else.

you're on the ground when he crosses the kitchen to sit down on the leather couch, arms spread out and men spreading.

he calls his sweet omega over and you're quick to crawl on all four until you're kneeling in from of him.

he's looking down at you, his cock a few centimetres away from you, flat against his stomach and you can still smell your saliva on him. it's dripping from all your gags and you can't help but beg for him to let you suck it again.

ran loves it. seeing you between his legs, making puppy eyes for his cock, mouth open ready to welcome him ; all of these never failed to make him want you even more.

he's softly chuckling, gentle hand caressing your fucked out face while the other is pumping his dick slowly, teasing you.

ha takes in your state, satisfied in the way you're already a mess just by the taste of his cock. your omega instincts are so strong, you'll let him ruin you in every way if it meant your alpha was pleased.

when he repositions himself you're sure it's your sign to swallow his whole length again but when you go for it you're stopped by a slap to your face.

you look up at him, confused, but when he pats his thigh your eyes are shining again.

"saddle up doll"

and you do. you climb up his laps the best you can and you're soon enough sitting on him. it hurts at first, but the pure bliss on your alpha's face is all worth it.

so you go past the pain and start moving, his hands around your hips guiding you. his head is buried again in your neck but now he's sucking harshly on your claim mark, drawing more pheromones out of you.

his own pheromones are making you dizzy and his arousal is making you loose your mind, you don't even know what's happening when he tosses you to the side and starts pounding into your pussy.

you figured he got tired of your sloppy and clumsy moves and wished to dick you down for good.

you really felt so good, but his pretty omega was even better spread out and staying still right under him.

you felt him chase his own release with the growing pace he was going at. he would spank you when he felt like you lost focus on him, making your cunt even tighter.

your tongue was out and ran gave you two of his fingers to suck, spitting in your mouth for good measure.

your pretty moans were filling the room even more and you gripped the couch like it was your life boat, taking ran so well.

he loves you so much he marked you again, biting hard into your neck, a primal desire to claim what's his and drive away any alphas.

he wants you all to himself, to be the only one allowed to fuck you and own you. you're so obedient and submissive ran is sometimes worried you'll fall into a stranger's trap.

but don't worry, ran will breed you, fill you up with his seeds so much you'll be covered with his own scent all day.

swollen with his pups, surely you'll stay at home all day? unable to function normally without him, always so dependent now that you'll be in a more vulnerable state<3

he's just crazy in love like that, and his dumb omega isn't making this any easier <3

"you're all mine, baby"

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tkaulitzlvr · 1 year

Note

could you pretty please write one with tom where him and reader go shopping together and she’s trying some things on in the change room, she asks for tom’s help unzipping something maybe and then they go at it in the change room? 🤭

RISKY - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you have trouble taking off a dress that you have tried on whilst shopping with tom. you ask for his help, leading to the two of you doing something risky in the changing room - tom reminding you of your surroundings, using them to tease you even more.

content: smut

a/n: thank u sm for the req! someone else requested more or less the same thing so instead of writing two separate fics i just put the two together, hope that’s okay!! something a little shorter than usual, not as motivated as i would like to be rn, so apologies if this is a little sloppily written :/

my fingers clutch at the zipper for the third time, body bending in an awkward position to better my vision of it, yanking on the metal, groaning in frustration when, once again, it doesn’t budge. the dress is beautiful, the second i put it on i had fallen in love, admiring the way it shapes my figure, sucking me in at my stomach, highlighting my curves as a result. but, when i try to take it off, as i had been for the past five minutes, the zipper seems glued in place, not moving no matter how much force i apply.

i curse under my breath, knowing that there is no way i am getting this dress off - not alone anyways. tom had been waiting outside the small changing room for at least twenty minutes now, not checking in on me as he has gotten used to how long i take when trying things on, situating himself on the small couch outside, getting comfy and knowing he will be waiting a while.

i try once more, wiggling the zipper to try and pull it downwards at a different angle, careful not to tear the delicate stitching, yet it doesn’t move, a frustrated sigh leaving my lips. tom’s feet tap against the floor quickly, the sound echoing quietly through the room, reminding me that he is probably my only chance of getting this dress off, wanting to get out of it as soon as possible.

“tom?” i call out, pursing my lips as i wait for his response from the other side of the curtain. silence follows my words, my hands staying on the zipper, yanking helplessly at it, with no success.

“yeah?” he says, the rhythmic tapping of his shoes against the floor coming to a sudden stop.

“can you help me?” i ask, my voice tired as i sigh out, completely defeated.

he says nothing, yet i hear his body stand from the couch, his slow steps trudging towards the curtain, his hand reaching to touch the fabric as he pulls it open slightly, furrowing his eyebrows once he sees my state - hands awkwardly bending to touch the zipper, my face curved into a frown.

“you okay?” he asks, a smirk tugging on his lips as he stifles a laugh, slipping into the changing room and closing the curtain behind him.

“it’s not funny! can you just unzip this for me? it’s stuck.” i sigh, turning around so that my back is facing him.

his hand places itself onto my back, palm flat against my back, slightly cold. his other slowly reaches for the hair draped across my shoulders, gently collecting it, picking it up and handing it to me as i hold it in place, giving him easier access. he plants a small kiss against my back before his fingers touch the zipper, tugging it downwards effortlessly, making me wonder how i had struggled so much, tom making it look easy.

but, much to my surprise, he doesn’t stop there. he continues to drag the zipper downwards at an agonisingly slow pace, stopping once it is fully undone. i open my mouth to thank him, but soon snap it closed when i feel his hands move to slowly pull the thin straps from my shoulders, my breath hitching in my throat. his breath fans onto the back of my neck as i feel his face near me, goosebumps forming over the skin.

his hands continuing to work on the dress, the material peeling from my shoulder blades as the small of my back is left bare. his lips ghost against the skin, beginning to slowly suck on it, teeth digging in ever so slightly, my eyes fluttering closed.

“tom what are you-”

“shhhhh.” he whispers, pulling the dress from my upper half as the material pools at my waist, his hands running up and down my sides slowly, face now buried into my neck, leaning forward as his eyes hover over my shoulder, nose nudging against the front of it. “you think you can be quiet for me baby?”

he doesn’t wait for a response, instead moving his hands upwards to cup my breasts, a breathy moan leaving my lips, no longer bothered about our surroundings, completely flustered at his actions, silently praying that he will go further.

“ah ah ah.” he taunts, moving his hands away to rest loosely either side of me, watching the way my face falls in disappointment. “you have to stay quiet, you wouldn’t want anyone to hear us, would you schatz?”

i shake my head furiously, desperate for him to resume his motions, willing to try just about anything to stay quiet. a low chuckle leaves his lips at my hopelessness, lips curving into a small smirk once my hands reach to rest above his, attempting to bring them back to my breasts, becoming more needy then ever. he puts me out of my misery, though the look of satisfaction on his face says that my despair is entertaining to him, enjoying the way i wither helplessly in front of him, already begging for his touch despite his minimal actions.

his fingers toy with my nipples, lips brushing against the crook of my neck, gently making contact with the soft skin, placing small kisses there, my head tilting to the side to give him more access, teeth sinking into my lips to prevent any sounds from escaping. my head rests against his shoulders, eyes half-lidded as i watch his hands work against me through the large mirror in front of us. the kisses that he leaves on my neck soon turn into his lips sucking at the skin, his tongue running over the marks he leaves soon after, soothing the slight pain that his movements leave.

whilst his mouth works against my shoulder, trailing to the sensitive spot below my ear, his hands trail to his jeans slowly, fingers undoing the buckle of his belt, pulling it through the loops slowly, discarding it somewhere on the floor. swiftly undoing the button of his oversized jeans, tugging the zipper down quickly, the denim pooling at his feet, a small whine leaves my lips once his teeth graze against the sensitive spot on my neck.

“what did i say, hm? one more sound and i won’t touch you at all, you really want that to happen?” he taunts, planting open mouthed kisses over the same spot, his gaze moving upwards to make eye contact with me through the mirror, enjoying the way i attempt to shake my head, pursing my lips together, struggling to hold back the sounds desperate to be let out. after i mutter a small ‘no’, he nods his head, seemingly satisfied with my response.

his hand slips under the dress, travelling slowly across my abdomen, fingers dipping into my panties slowly, my breathing hitching. his eyes never leave the mirror, looking intently into my own, observing the way my teeth sink into my bottom lip, holding back any noise. he hums lowly, his pointer finger running through my folds, his tongue moving to play with his lip piercing, lips curving upwards once he realises how wet i am.

“so fucking needy, aren’t you? look at you, begging to be fucked, right here. anyone could walk in, but that doesn’t bother you, does it? you just want me to touch you…”

he pauses, hesitating a little, judging the way my eyes search his through the mirror, wondering how he will finish his sentence. though he decides that actions speak louder than words, his finger harshly coming to my clit, rubbing slow circles over it.

“like this, right?” he teases, speeding up his movements, my eyes squeezing shut, head falling backwards to rest against his shoulder once again. resting in the back of my throat, a moan becomes increasingly close to spilling from my lips, my hand reaching upwards desperately, pulling his face roughly to mine, attaching my lips to his as i moan into his mouth, the sound low and muffled.

he chuckles into it, relishing my vulnerability, enjoying the effect that he has on me, making it more and more difficult for me to stay quiet as he speeds up his motions, my lips pressing harder against his own, the kiss messy and heated, holding back the inaudible sounds dangerously close to sounding out. i whine quietly against tom, lips stuttering as i am no longer able to kiss back, my face inches away from his.

his free hand moves downwards, impatiently tugging his boxers down, letting them fall to his feet, not bothering to take them off completely. wearing a dress works to my advantage right now, tom pulling away as his chin rests on my shoulder, studying my facial expression, reaching between my legs and underneath the dress. he moves my panties to the side, positioning his tip at my entrance.

“you gonna stay quiet yeah?” he asks, lips pressing against my shoulder.

i nod my head vigorously, tom watching my face as he moves his hips, slowly sliding into me, my hand flies to my mouth, pressing firmly against it to muffle the sounds that i cannot prevent from spilling from my lips, eyes rolling backwards as he slowly stretches me out, his gaze fixated on my face. his mouth falls open, slow and heavy breaths escaping from it, his hands remaining steadily on my hips as he bottoms out.

“shhh, that’s it, taking me so well. keep that pretty mouth closed, mhm?” he praises, moving backwards, almost pulling out fully, before snapping his hips forwards without warning, my entire body jolting upwards shock as he bottoms out.

he builds a fast pace, thrusting upwards into me from behind, his tip brushing against my sensitive spot as i squeeze my eyes shut, head falling backward once again.

“no no no…” he starts, hand coming upwards to tug on my hair, my eyes quickly jolting open as he circles his hips, creating a whole new angle. “look at yourself in that mirror. watch yourself as i fuck you.”

i can do nothing but comply with his words, watching the way my mouth falls open, tom’s dick thrusting in and out of me. my makeup is ruined, mascara falling down my cheeks in long, black lines, lipstick smudged from the way my lips had messily collided with his own. my eyes fall to study tom’s face - his eyebrows knitted together, teeth sinking into his lips as he struggles to stay silent himself, restrained whines leaving his lips with each sharp movement. sweat lines along his forehead, chest heaving up and down, muscles contracting as he squeezes my hips harshly, applying more and more pressure, steadying his hold on me whilst his dick continues to relentlessly disappear inside of me.

my face falls forward, no longer able to hold myself upright, feeling my climax building up, the urge to let out a soft moan stronger than ever. my walls clench instinctively around his cock, this sudden pressure unexpected to him.

“fuck!” he grunts, biting down harshly on my shoulder to prevent any more noise from leaving his lips. i repeat the motion, his teeth sinking further into my skin as i do so, the pain somehow fuelling the pleasure of his dick moving inside of me, bringing me closer and closer to my release.

his thrusts begin to falter, hips stuttering against me as his head falls backwards, mouth opening in a silent scream, ropes of his thick cum shooting inside of me.

“so close.” i mutter out, my voice only just above a whisper, throat dry and hoarse from my need to restrain it so much, desperate to show tom how good he is making me feel.

“touch yourself baby. c’mon, want you to cum all over my cock.” he encourages, speeding up his thrusts once again, still holding back a little, staring at me through the mirror, nodding his head slowly once my hand moves downwards, fingers playing with my clit as my legs buckle.

“there you go, just like that. feels good, doesn’t it?” he taunts, chuckling at the weak nods i send his way in response, unable to utter coherent sentences, the knot in my stomach coming undone.

my eyebrows knit together, eyes rolling to the back of my head, tom’s hand coming to cover my mouth.

“let out those pretty sounds schatz, it’s okay. c’mon, show me how good i make you feel.” i sigh in relief, letting out a high pitched moan, the sound muffled within his hand as his hips rock back and forth slowly, riding out my high.

he pulls out slowly, grunting quietly as he reaches for his boxers and jeans, hoisting them upwards, his breathing fast and heavy. i slip the dress off of my body, placing it back on the hanger, quickly putting my own clothes back on. tom turns to face me, slowly backing me up against the wall as his lips meet mine, a cocky smile tugging on them as he leans in. my lips move against his, hands reaching upwards to cup his face. he pulls back, that playful smile still present, his body pressed firmly against my own.

“we should fuck in places like this more often. you look so much hotter when you’re trying to stay quiet.” his lips ghost over mine, biting against them softly, about to lean in and kiss me again, before a stern voice sounds from outside the changing room, tom and i both turning towards the curtain, my face turning a dark shade of red.

“hey, whoever’s in there, get your things and leave right now, or we’re calling the police!”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #kaulitz #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x reader #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz angst #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz

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adorethedistance · 5 months

Text

I Don’t Just Like You - Trevor Zegras x Hughes!Reader

Hockey Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, tension/fighting, jealousy, Dixie lmao

Words: 2161

Summary: Tension builds with Trevor over his new partnership until the two of you confess your feelings.

A/n: Y'all I am so not doing well rn. I am processing a break up and questioning my social circle and im so lonely that I needed to write some angst to cope with it all. Hope yall like this one and maybe it'll get a smut part two depending on whether or not I can handle writing that rn lol. Enjoy!

Moose: call me ASAP

Me: sorry Luke. can’t rn

Moose: Awesome 😎

My hands quake with anxiety as I fiddle with the tarnished silver ring adorning my pointer finger. The moisture of my skin eases the movement of turning the ring around my finger. I hiss when the gemstone catches on the skin of my middle finger and immediately drop my hands.

Currently, I’m staring down at the risky text I just sent Trevor. About an hour ago he had messaged me:

Trev: hey sorry can’t swing tn after all

Trev: rain check?

My jaw tightens with contempt and I huff out a sigh as my bottom lip trembles. I feel pathetic for just how impacted I am by his every word. I angrily hit the digital keys of my phone’s keyboard as I type my reply.

Me: really?

Me: again??

Trev: don’t be like that

I’m not the most confrontational person. On any given day some might say I’m the furthest thing from confrontational. To put it rather plainly, I just don’t like it. I hate the way I get anxiety butterflies in my stomach. I hate absorbing the emotions of the other person, especially when rejection is involved. I hate what projections I’m opening myself up to receiving from the other person. There are too many pitfalls and not enough landing pads. Which is why it’s so out of character for me to press him on this.

Me: like what Trev?

This is the third time in a row Trevor has cancelled plans on me. I don’t know if he’s aware of that. I don’t even know what he’s been up to lately. He’s refused to tell me what he’s been doing instead, which didn’t raise my suspicions by any means until mom sent me an article. She knows about how my crush on Trevor has had roots in our childhoods.

Trev: you know what I’m talking about

After I stopped playing hockey with my brothers, I was still always around to notice Trevor’s presence in our home. When I moved to California for college, I wanted to chase my music dreams but I didn’t realize it would come at the expense of my support system. Being long distance with my family put me in a hard spot, but having a familiar face to rely on made the adjustment easier. As we spent more time together independent of my brothers, Trevor and I became close friends. The problem was my crush has been growing ever since we became friends, hence why mom sent me an article called, “Did Dixie D’Amelio admit to dating Trevor Zegras?”.

Me: at least say it with your chest

Sent. Delivered. I wait. Trevor’s response bubble appears for a second. It disappears, then reappears, then disappears again. I’m about ready to toss my phone across the room when his message delivers.

Trev: call me

I groan out in frustration and this time actually end up chucking my phone onto my bed. I run my hands through my hair, along the warm expanse of my scalp. A self-soothing gesture by all means. I pace to one side of my room before using the momentum of my steps to start back towards my phone. Just as I have it in my hand, Trevor’s contact picture covers the screen and illuminates in my grasp. I scoff out a sort of half groan and then answer.

“What, Trevor?”

“Hey, Y/n I’m great. Thanks for asking! How are you?” He responds sardonically to my cold greeting. I bite my tongue, torn between tearing into him and the stronger desire to laugh through my rage. He takes my exhale as a cue to continue. “What’s going on, Hughesy?”

In a single moment, my anger dissolves. The tenderness of that nickname, which was once reserved solely for my brothers, now belongs to me. In this moment, I find myself thinking about how grateful I am that Trevor was there for me as I transitioned into college. But the looming threat of a smile quickly vanishes as I remember how that care is nullified by Trevor’s abundantly active dating life.

“Y/nnnn?” Trevor hums into the phone.

“What?” I respond dryly.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is you cancelling on me for the third time in a row.”

“Is it really the third time in a row?” He asks under his breath, indicating he may not have intended to say it out loud at all. I roll my eyes, still actively fighting the urge to just lay into him.

“Yes, Trevor, it is!” I can practically hear him wince through the phone at the fact that I’m calling him Trevor instead of the default nickname permanently programmed into my phone.

“Who’s that?” I hear softly over the phone. My heart flutters like a coal mine parakeet in a cage and I bite my lip, willing myself not to cry if it turns out Dixie is on the other side. Trevor whispers back,

“It’s Y/n.”

“Hey, Y/n!” Mason’s on the other end.

“Not a good time,” Trevor tells him. Mason curses and then apologizes before retreating from Trevor’s general area. “Sorry, you were saying?” Trevor tells me at regular volume.

“You were cancelling on me again.”

“Oh. Right. I…” he switches the phone to the other ear, “I…don’t know what you want me to say.” Hello?! Could he be any more oblivious?!

“I want you to tell me what is going on!” I whine into the phone, “What is it you’re so busy with doing that you can’t see me for a week, huh? I get that you’re a professional athlete and you have a busy schedule. But I know your schedule and I know you still have a decent amount of free time. So what have you been doing?” Trevor breathes, in, then out and says,

“I’ve been seeing someone lately…” I feel my heart shatter into the tiniest fractals of what it once was and I cover my mouth to choke back the growing lump in my throat.

“I can’t do this right now,” I say with the utmost hurt lacing my voice, pulling the phone away from my ear to abruptly hang up on Trevor. I toss my phone on my bed once more, ignoring how the screen lights up with Trevor’s contact picture. It’s a new breed of psychological torture to sit here and ignore the calls, so I leave my phone in my bedroom as I go to splash cold water on my face.

When I reenter my bedroom, I ignore the buzzing device to put on a comfortable pair of pajamas. He’s called once, twice, a fourth, and a fifth before finally giving up. Despite my phone being silent, I don’t trust it enough to take it with me and leave it to charge on my bed. I settle on the couch to open my new pint of Ben and Jerry’s, putting on my favorite show in the hopes of laughing through the pain.

Somewhere between first and second episode, I had dozed off after returning the ice cream to the freezer. I’m not sure what it is about crying that knocks me on my ass like that, all I know is that it works.

I’m abruptly pulled from my sleep when I hear the harsh banging on my front door. I jump up from the couch, the spike in adrenaline carrying me out of my sleepy haze. When I get to the front door, some of the tiredness catches up with me again and I groggily open the front door. Behind it stands Trevor, with sad puppy eyes and a sheepish expression. I can’t help the scowl that comes to rest on my face when I see him, but he doesn’t falter. Instead, he pushes past me to come into the apartment and sits on the couch expectantly. Since there’s no way to physically remove him from my space, I bargain, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch, as far from Trevor as I can manage. He doesn’t let the cold gesture phase him, and scooches obliviously into the center of the couch.

“What’s going on Hughsey?” I scoff at the nickname and Trevor cringes in frustration. “What is this?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Why are you icing me out all of a sudden?”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I ask, spiteful, with malice.

“Clearly not since I’m here spending time with you.”

“Was that so hard for you to do? I mean, with your busy schedule and all?”

“What are you-” Trevor pauses for a split second. “Wait, are you… jealous? Y/n?”

I want to protest. I want to scream and rant and bite back, how he could be so conceited to think I’d be jealous of a relationship that I previously thought was rumored? But I can’t.

Because he’s right.

I bite my tongue. There’s nothing else I can do. Not unless I want to make an even bigger fool of myself than I already have.

“Oh my god, that’s totally it. You’re jealous.” Trevor says, complete with a laugh and a sigh. The shame of actually being jealous of a girl I’ve never met, the disappointment of finding out Trevor is dating someone, and the exhaustion from already having cried earlier comes collapsing down on me at once. Hot tears well on the lining of my lashes and I stare at the ground, afraid to draw attention to myself. Upon seeing me cry, Trevor’s smile immediately vanishes and he scoots closer once more.

“Hey, shhh, it’s okay.” He envelops me in a hug that I’m too overwhelmed to reciprocate. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”

I merely shake my head, unaware of what I could even say in this moment.

“I was… I was just laughing ‘cause I should’ve known.”

“Should’ve known what?”

“That you’d be jealous.” I wriggle out of the hug and look at Trevor sincerely.

“How would you have known?”

“You know, for as long as I can remember, your brothers have talked about you having a crush on me.” I cower in humiliation, my face glowing hotter than the surface of the sun.

“I wish they wouldn’t have.”

“No?” Trevor asks, genuinely.

“It’s embarrassing,” I confess, fully recoiling from the physical contact he had initiated before.

“It’s cute.” Trevor earnestly admits as he takes my hand in his. I scoff instinctively but don’t pull my hand away again.

“I don’t need your pity, Trev.” I say so softly he nearly misses the sentiment. Once he processes my worlds, I feel him physically relax next to me at the sound of his familiar nickname.

“Well, what do you need? I’m here now.”

“I honestly don’t know.” I finally dare to meet his eyes. He’s looking at me so sweetly, earnestly. As if I hadn’t just chewed him out two minutes earlier. Then, I look away before I can say what I’m about to say next. “I don’t just like you.” Trevor’s face lifts ever so slightly. The extent of which, one might miss had they not known him a lifetime the way I have.

“You know… the only reason I started seeing her was to get over you.”

“What?” I ask, sharply whipping my head to stare at Trevor, as if awaiting the reveal that this was just some elaborate prank from the start.

“Yeah. I started dating Dixie because I thought dating someone different would distract me. You know, it’s not a good look to have a crush on your best friend’s little sister.”

My heartrate picks up with his confession. This feels too good to be true. As if real life is waiting for us right outside the front door. The real life that doesn’t see me and Trevor together ever in our lifetimes. Terrified of the change that would occur from letting him walk away, I reach up and hold his face in my hands, kissing him passionately. Trevor wraps his hand around my wrist and kisses me back with twice as much fervor.

We break apart, out of breath and full of smiles. Trevor looks at me for guidance and we fizzle into a nervous laughter. I reach up and brush my thumb tenderly across his cheekbone. He grabs my hand and turns his head, placing a sweet kiss on my palm. I then reach up and break the moment by ruffling my hand through his hair to mess it up.

“Hey!” He yells, grabbing waist to dig his hands into my sides. I screech with laughter as I try to escape. Trevor eventually yields and slips his hands from my sides to interlace with one another and pull me closer. I scoot in to sit against him, sitting half on top of him as our breathing falls in sync.

“I don’t just like you, too, Hughesy.” I smile.

“...You should probably call Dixie.”

“Oh shit.”

***

A/N: not my best work but not my worst either!

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