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elliewill · 8 days ago

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takin' what's not yours.

ALMOST LOVERS. so close, but not quite. ellie sends you a note that might rekindle what you nearly had.

word count: 4.9k warnings: nsfw mdni, infidelity, secretive behavior, pussy-eating, strapon r!receiving, messy tribbing, vague description of squirting tags: ex-bestfriends with benefits. long term homoerotic secret-third-thing. forbidden. a playful fuck born of yearning.

ELLIE HAD BEEN looking down at her third mixed drink when her stomach lurched at the thought of having to finish it. She never liked vodka. She wasn’t sure why she even chose it to begin with.

“I missed you,” Ellie said, setting her drink down on her coffee table, fiddling with the coaster her drink sat on.

It was a childish thing to say. Childish, naïve, maybe even teetering on reckless. Ellie couldn’t help herself; it was nothing she hadn’t said before, although circumstances now would imply heavier consequences.

You returned to an acquaintance of Ellie’s. A quiet awareness of each other, clearing paths to avoid regrettable collision. You repelled each other’s pull to orbit with nothing but sheer will and an intense fear of embarrassment.

An acquaintance, sure. But what did that mean when you’ve known the exact way in which the lines of Ellie’s neck join her collarbones, her shoulders? When Ellie had etched in her mind the way your silhouette takes its shape against the natural light while you’re sound asleep, nothing but a beautifully sun-drenched figure?

It didn’t mean much at all, apparently. Her sheets have always held your scent — but it’d been six months too long since you’d been in her sheets anyway. Although that side of the bed wasn’t yours. And never had been. In fact, it was someone else’s now.

Still, you were no stranger. But Ellie had been bolder. And she’d been responsible for far more reckless things.

So have you.

C’mon. Say it.

“I… missed you too.”

The words ran from your mouth in a long breath; you were unsure whether the confession was intentional or by accident, but the words hung in the air now. She heard it. And you wrung your hands a bit, trying your best to bluff, still uncertain of what game she sought to play.

She wouldn’t let you catch her eyes, and whether that choice of hers was sheepish or cocky, you couldn’t tell.

It would be too brave of you, too bold, to express what you’d really thought. Right? Wasn’t it?

A swirling nostalgia settled in your stomach, and you played with the idea of drinking its temptation in full. Among the inside jokes stashed in between the couch cushions you sat on, you could probably still find one or two popcorn kernels lodged in there, too.

Could you maybe eat like a normal person? The movie’s not that scary, El.

Ha. Pshhh, I’m not scared. I’m just saving those for later. Obviously.

This was just a friendly, strictly-platonic get-together for two, just as you had done so many times before. You and your best friend had always been tightly knit – sewn, if you were being honest – until seams all but unraveled just a few months ago. You both found new ways to occupy your time, new hands to hold, new lips to kiss. More time to make for someone else.

And yet, that corny envelope and handwritten note still somehow slipped underneath your door earlier that day. Come over for some drinks? If you want. Definitely don’t have to if you don’t want to. Dina’s at Jesse’s for the night, if that means anything.

If that means anything.

“It’s okay that you’re with her, by the way."

Attempting to save both you and herself from the silence, Ellie’s heart had spoken through gritted teeth, although her lips made sure the words rang polite. A small sigh of relief escaped her lips when she realized she wouldn’t have to hear you backtrack.

She peeled the coaster out from beneath her drink and leaned over to grab your third drink, watching the condensation pool beneath the empty glass of ice. You swallowed the words as hard as you tried to untangle them. And the thought of Dina caught and hung itself like an anchor in your stomach.

Dina was good for Ellie. And to save face, you’ve mustered the courage to say that your new lover was good for you, too. No matter the words exchanged in quiet – those were lovers’ quarrels and you always made up. The nights spent alone meant nothing, that was just how she coped. And forget the comments, they were funny! Even you laughed. Right? This was good. Why wouldn’t it be okay? Of course, it was okay. You and Ellie had only ever been friends. Or something like that.

“Whew!” You sarcastically pretended to wipe away sweat above your brow. After pressing your lips together in an attempt to conceal a smirk, you continued, “Fuck, I’m so relieved I have the Ellie stamp-of-approval. God, what would I have done without it?”

“Oh, shut up," Ellie laughed and rolled her hazel-green eyes at you, lips parting to reveal a crooked smile. Just a playful nudge at your arm with her freckled nose all wrinkled, and a flame ripped across your chest and crept toward your neck. "I was just being nice."

You broke the ice – the way you wanted it to be broken. Lighthearted, good-natured, casual. Maybe there was a twinge of something else – and of course there was, there’d always been something else – something sweet and tender and so poorly developed and fragile that maybe it was best that it never touched the surface. Although, maybe now, buzzed and lacking inhibition, it didn’t seem so bad to let it breathe.

“Okay, and? So was I.” You nudged her back, the nostalgia feeling bittersweet and overdue. “I can still kick your ass, y’know.”

“You wanna bet?” Ellie’s eyebrows perked up at you as she jokingly raised her fists, cartoonishly winding up a punch. Frequently, you used to find yourself at the receiving end of Ellie’s goofy shadowboxing. Few others have had the privilege of being her victim. “Put ‘em up.”

“Careful, nerd. Might hurt yourself,” you replied, feigning a lack of amusement.

You slapped her lazy fist downward and something reeled inside Ellie’s gut. A knot formed in her stomach, being reminded of how long it’s been since you’ve touched her hands. But the inner corners of her mouth creased into a bashful smile anyway. She had finally let you catch her eyes. And for a moment, you forgot the circumstances. It seemed as though Ellie did, too.

“Do you ever miss this?”

Ellie’s gaze lingered. Maybe just a bit too long. Heat tore across your ears, and you tried your best to ignore the burn.

“Miss what? Being challenged to kick your ass?” you defused. This was supposed to be lighthearted, casual… harmless. It was harmless.

“Ha-haaa. Very funny.” You caught an eye-roll from the Savage Starlight card collector. “Y’know what I meant.”

“Being friends?”

“I mean, yeah, sure. Something like that,” Ellie uttered, unsure but settling for what left her lips. She shrugged, shy eyes downcast toward her fingers.

“I do miss it, yeah,” you admitted. Ellie struggled to contain her buzz at your confession. You returned a shrug, swallowing the urge to place blame. It had never been anyone’s fault. You had simply grown apart – friends do that sometimes, don’t they?

“Don’t know why it’s been so long. Just… busy I guess,” Ellie muttered, almost embarrassedly. She was the one who stopped calling, she’s sure. Patrols were just…coincidentally reassigned, too. To make things less awkward between you both, obviously.

And busy had a name. You didn’t feel like your Busy was worth mentioning. But for Ellie, it was always Dina.

Her name hung in your mouth and Ellie's eyes softened, a quiet understanding passing between the two of you.

“So…” you sighed, debating on continuing. “How are things with Dina?”

“It’s been… really great. She’s great.” Ellie compulsively finished the rest of her drink to avoid elaborating further. It had been proving difficult trying to remind herself that when it’s good, it’s great with Dina – and that it was something worth waiting it out for. And mind often wandered so far as to ask whether it had to be this way at all.

Relationships don’t always need sex for it to survive, right? What are the odds of sex life flatlining shortly after making it official? Was it just her libido? Perhaps lesbian bed-death, or something. People grow out of it, the freezing-out thaws, and all that, she guessed. But the guilt in Ellie’s chest burned up the words that never left her mouth. She hoped that with each breath thereafter, smoke wouldn’t curl out from between her lips.

“But… she doesn’t find your corny puns funny either?”

“Well, I know it breaks your heart, but she does, in fact, find my puns funny,” Ellie lectured in between laughter, with arms crossed and her warm buzz to blame for the half-lidded gaze.

“She’s still in the honeymoon phase, huh?” The sarcasm threaded your motion, slowly nodding at Ellie, hoping to win another laugh from her.

“I dunno. It’s just not the same y’know?”

You tensed. You brought your hands down to your lap when you began biting the inside of your cheek. Of course you knew.

“It’s not the same as what?”

You attempted to jump ship anyway. Lest you reveal something you didn’t want Ellie to know.

“Like how we used to be.”

“As friends?”

Or something like that, right?

“I mean, friends don’t really kiss friends.”

Right.

The urge to bristle at the comment was hard to fight. You weren’t the one to have kissed her first; she started it back then. But the guilt slithered into your gut and gnawed at you, knowing that you always wished you had kissed her first, anyway.

“Sometimes they do. And maybe it’s that simple,” you said a little too defensively, knowing how Dina and Ellie got together. You didn’t mean for it to come out so brash, but you blamed it on the alcohol crippling your self-awareness and its accompanying filter.

“I mean – c’mon – don’t you wanna talk about it?” Ellie quibbled. “Or would you rather keep pretending that nothing ever happened?”

“Nothing did happen, Ellie.”

You prayed that the next words out of Ellie’s mouth wouldn’t be “Friends don’t fuck friends, either.” Because if they had been, you’d have to spend the next few minutes waiting for the hungry ache between your legs to subside; you know that your nameless Busy could never fuck you the way Ellie did.

“We both know that’s not true,” Ellie teased and leaned in toward you, holding back a scoff. You would’ve called it a laugh if you had been sober.

“Hooking up never meant anything, El. We were just friends, and you’re with Dina now. Don’t fuck this up for yourself,” you chided.

There was still time to leave. To walk away from whatever hot, tempting mess was awaiting you on Ellie’s couch. It was an old dance, a familiar one, whose steps had been memorized by your soles.

It started with something harmless. Innocent touches. Friendly ones. Then, a peck. Something like kisses littered along a collarbone. Until, eventually, legs were hoisted over shoulders, faces buried in between thighs and hands with a mean grip on hair.

It was inconsequential fun back then. It was forbidden now. And for some reason, the thought of getting fucked into a bed by Ellie, who didn’t belong to you, made your cunt slick.

“Did you know why I kissed you back then?” Ellie’s voice was soft, quiet. But there was a challenge there. Her words dripped with a dare.

“Cause you had a big, fat crush?” You leaned in the way she did, taunting her with a drunken smirk. Your faces were only inches from each other’s now, the vodka on her breath strong and the mutual desperation stronger.

“What if I said that I still do?”

Ellie’s eyes flicked between your lips and your eyes, clearly distracted by a twinge between her thighs. When was the last time your mouths have been so close? She swore that her fingertips could recall the hills and valleys of your figure. Maybe she could try tracing them along your skin again, just to test herself. Just to say she could. C’mon. Maybe.

“I would say that you’re drunk. And fucking insane,” you quipped, unable to help the laugh that escaped your lips – low and breathless.

“Nothing else?”

Every time she spoke, all the clear, hard lines that kept you two apart suddenly looked softer, blurrier – like someone had been rubbing out the edges. They looked wobbly, jagged, faded, as if someone drew them with a hand that couldn’t quite steady itself. Everything felt a little more fluid, a little more bendable, a little less… consequential.

God, the stakes were high and the rewards even better. One wrong breath and you could win her or lose her. You were always good at bluffing but had a bad habit of throwing out your cards. What then? What’s next? Fold, right? It’s always been a fold, baby. You never wanted the pot that bad anyway, did you?

“And that you’re a nerd.” “Oucchhhh.”

Ellie feigned anguish with a cocky smile, whilst pretending to drive a dagger through her heart.

Your conscience held itself in silence as soon as you watched her eyebrows pinch at the center. It’s almost exactly the way you remembered. When she’d look down at you, face between her legs. When you used to glide your tongue through her folds, making slow, soft circles around her clit.

There had suddenly been just too much fucking saliva in your mouth while looking at her like that. You began to believe that the spit in your mouth could be used for far more useful things than moistening your mouth. Both of you exchanged a fleeting look. A knowing one. A thirsty one.

You slowly leaned in to kiss her gently, pulling away to scan her face for any sign of regret, resentment – or satisfaction.

She didn’t wear surprise on her features. Her eyes had darkened, something hypnotic and fucking carnal behind pupils blown. The small victory set your body alight. And a discreet, sin-free, mouth-watering desire had been fulfilled. It was a peck. Just to test the waters. An innocent thing.

The tug just below Ellie’s happy-trail disagreed.

You both moved to brazenly close the distance, rushing to get up and get your hands on each other – to clumsily and carelessly make your way toward the bed that you missed so much. Your hands held the side of her face as her lips continued to crash into yours. She brought a hand to the side of your neck, a thumb grazing your cheek, the exact way she used to make you melt. It was sweet, it was missed, it was never supposed to be innocent. It was born of desperation.

And it was fucking sloppy.

Miraculously, you two had found the bed – which, to be honest, is no miracle since this felt like ritual – and she pinned you down onto it. You slid up further into the sheets, your body buzzing at the way Ellie groped you. You clawed at her shirt, pathetically pulling her closer. A soft whine crept from your throat when her lips left yours, a string of saliva stretching between your mouths. Gravity broke the string; the warm spit dribbled down your chin.

You laid there, looking up at Ellie, whose hands have already undone a bra, while she feasted her eyes upon your neck like it was her next meal. Ellie had always been one to admire you, but there simply was no time to fuckin’ waste.

Her right hand found your neck, nimble fingers closing around your throat and squeezing a breathy yelp from you. Her left hand found a handful of your soft tits, her palm skimming over your hard nipples and fighting the urge to grab any harder than she was. But before she could decide to rough you up any further, her lips and tongue met the skin on your neck, leaving a trail of painful and wet kisses.

It was so quick, born of something so pent-up, secret, uncontrollable. You loved that she didn’t give you a moment to think. The moans that involuntarily escaped your lips were half-formed, broken, breathy. Your thoughts weren’t that much different.

“Shit,” you managed to croak out, realizing that she had been leaving love bites. “C’mon, El. I don’t… don’t have a way to fuckin’ cover them.”

“Good,” Ellie huffed between half-kisses, before decisively bringing her teeth down hard on your neck, purposely ignorant to your wishes. A sharp inhale through your teeth settled into a helpless moan in your mouth. “Means I get to keep you. Right, baby?”

Baby. She called you baby. Something in your chest tightened, like heartstrings suddenly tangled. You’d question whether she meant that if you were sober. But the buzzing in your body from the gin denied the need for proof. Your proof was right there. Ellie’s tongue on your neck softened anxiety’s edges for you and your nerves remained partially blunted to the panic of being called her baby.

“Mhm,” you sighed, nodding a bit sporadically, clearly melting. You searched for her hands with yours and dragged them down toward that deliciously painful ache in your pussy. “Fuck, please touch me, El, please.”

Ellie’s fingers dug into the hems of your shirt and her hands scrambled to pull it up and over your head. She brought her soft, pink lips to your chest, leaving kisses, sneaking bites and trailing her tongue down to your hard nipples. Ellie drew a plea from your lips, and she was about to do it again. All while her hands had worked themselves to the button and zipper of your jeans. And once she got those down – her own.

Your eyes lavished the sight of Ellie’s pretty thighs. Pretty, soft, flecked with freckles. The perfect place to put your head between. Goosebumps had strewn themselves across your skin. And your pretty friend’s warm hand over your cunt didn’t help.

“So you must’ve really missed me, huh,” she teased, running a finger over an obnoxiously wet spot of your underwear. You flushed at the soft brush of her finger, your blood red-hot underneath your skin. Afraid that she’d draw away her hand to tease you further, you gripped her forearm and pressed it against the heat between your legs. Your eyes locked.

“Gotta check to make sure, right?” You tilted your hips toward her, your words edging on a dare. And you had always known Ellie to be far too stubborn to turn one down.

In silent agreement, her left hand peels your panties toward the side, her right middle and ring finger slipping easily into your dripping cunt and thumb gently landing on your throbbing clit.

“Sh-Shit,” you moaned, licking your lips shortly after. With eyelids low, you reached for your tits, as if something feral stirred in your gut at the feeling of being filled by Ellie’s fingers. You fervently imagined what her tongue would feel like filling up your pussy; it had been too long ago to recall.

Your eyes followed her movement in hungry anticipation. She lowered her face to your middle, fingers sliding out to spread the lips of your cunt. What a fuckin’ tease.

She ran her tongue through your folds, eager to earn another pretty sound from you. And she did. Bottom to top, the tip of her tongue caught and spread the slick over your clit, and you couldn’t help but groan in greed. More. You wanted more.

Ellie delivered — with a warm, wet tongue that slid into your pussy.

“Goddd, fuck, El. Feels so, f-fuckin’ — good,” you whimpered pathetically. “S-so fuckin’ deep in my cunt.” Like second nature, your fingers clawed for a grip on Ellie’s rusty brown hair.

“So — fuckin’… pretty, baby,” she moaned into you, between tongue-deep licks of your pussy. The sound of Ellie’s tongue messily lapping against and into your gushing cunt made a slippery mess out of her own underwear. But she didn’t need to tell you that for you to know.

Her fingers found themselves in your messy pussy again, her tongue at your clit, making steady swirls, occasionally closing her lips around your bud to gently suck. Like clockwork, a familiar hunger gently tore at you from your core.

“Shit, yessss, baby. Mhm, like that. Like thatttt. Gimme, El, p-please. I’m —”

Just like that, Ellie had to do the opposite of what you so desperately begged for. Her tongue abandoned your clit, and her fingers left your pussy, sticky, beaded strings of slick adorning the space between them. An exasperated whimper left with an exhale. Ellie sat back onto her heels, self-satisfied smirk on her face.

“Sorry — were you not done?”

“Fuckin’ Christ, El. You’re so annoying.”

She watched you compose yourself from the brink of the delicious chase of your orgasm, pulling something out from inside a bin from underneath the bed. Something she hadn’t used since she had seen you last.

She calmly wrestled it on, made sure it was secure. And you ignored the blatant watering of your mouth.

“Aww, c’mon.” She screwed up her chin into a sarcastic pout. Her features sat gentle on her face, but her movements were a bit rough. Her hands pulled your legs to the right, leaving you on your side. Without giving you time to react, she rolled you onto your front, and pulled your ass up by your hips. You comfortably laid there, on your knees. “You love it.”

Her hazel eyes drank you up, admired your ass, and locked on the pretty, glistening wet lips between your legs.

“What are yo—”, you started, unable to finish. Ellie’s fingers spread your pussy lips, the tip of the strap gliding just-barely in. “H-holy shhhit.”

The sultry whine slipped from your mouth. And, poor you. You couldn’t help but arch your back. Stars swam in your eyes as her slips slowly rocked into you, the length of her strap filling your wet cunt.

“Slipped in sooo easy, baby,” Ellie hummed, hypnotized by the view, the way your ass moved with every stroke. Her palms spread on your ass, fingers digging in, likely to leave light fingertip bruises afterward. Her strokes got quicker and harder, her strap running over that delicious sweet spot in your pussy.

“Ellie! Fuck! Goddd, fuck me plea— right there, rightthere, baby,” you groaned, barely coherent, face-deep into her pillow, hands clawing at the sheets that smelled so much like her.

A series of whimpers had been leaving Ellie’s lips as she fucked you, the base of the strap rubbing comfortably — conveniently — against her clit. Something feral crawled up into Ellie’s abdomen with each stroke.

Unsatisfied with her grip on you, she reached over, laid a hand across your throat, forcing you to look up and stifling your moaning.

“You make such — pretty fuckin’… noises for me — fuck,” Ellie said. Maybe sighed. Although, to you it felt like a pant.

You turned your head just a bit to catch a blurry sideways glimpse of Ellie. There was a cool glow that illuminated the side of her face, freckles clear and bright, eyes closed and chasing that familiar tug in your core as she fucked into you. It was probably the moonlight trickling in from behind Ellie’s closed curtains.

And it was safe to say you fucking hated those curtains as they were.

Writhing under the pressure and friction of Ellie’s body behind yours, you secretly wished those curtains were never closed to prying eyes. You desperately wanted someone to look in. Someone to watch Ellie fuck you silly while you were wide-eyed, hypnotized, and hungry. The way she used to. Face down, ass up and fucked into a pillow. The way it was supposed to be.

And you’ve never looked more fucking gorgeous to her.

“God fuck, so clo—” Ellie’s breathy groans grew more intense, her sounds became all whiny, fussy, insatiable. You had her wrapped around your finger — and you’d be insane to make it all so easy for her. Her breathing quickened, catching itself on that warm knot in her stomach nearly unraveling.

You pulled forward and away from Ellie. The strap slid out of your pussy, to both your dismay and delight. A smirk snuck its way onto your lips as you turned around, rolling onto your back — missionary.

Her freckled chest was heaving a hard, unsteady breath. A bewildered expression on her features bordered on defeat.

“The fuck was that?” She asked, chest and cheeks alight, flush and rosy. You daydreamed about leaving purplish love bites around her neck, like a collar. You had always been holding the leash, haven't you?

This was your proof.

“I think that makes us even,” you answered, brandishing your self-satisfaction.

“Asshole,” Ellie exhaled with half a laugh, still catching her breath. Her hand tapped your thigh in a light smack — Ellie’s version of playful chastisement.

“Yeah?” you challenged, eyes flicking between the harness and the endearing lines forming at the corner of Ellie’s smirk.

You sat up, hands at the harness which sat around her hips and ass, managing to wrangle it off. Your eyes struggled to leave the pretty, sloppy mess she made underneath it.

Often you wondered if there was some secret language that only you two speak telepathically. Because she grabbed your legs, forcing you on your back again, and hoisting your right leg over her right shoulder — doing exactly as you desired.

Ellie positioned herself so that her middle met your own, and when it did, the feeling of her warm, sticky cunt made the ache of your clit border on painful. The slightest movement made the most delicious and obnoxious sound of your desperately wet pussies up against each other.

“So fuckin’ wet for me, baby,” Ellie huffed, watching the way your hands grasp at your own chest in lust. “Is that all for me, pretty girl?”

Strings of drool stretched between your cunts every time she pulled away and returned back to you, hips rocking like something carnally possessed. Your clits passed over each other, throbbing hard and sensitive from the pressure and slippery, effortless lack of friction between your gushing pussies.

“Mhm, yes, fuck… yes—,” your pathetic, lovedrunk mouth ran. “All fuckin’ yours.”

You admired the tiny beads of sweat on her, like a mist that fell over Ellie’s neck and chest. You couldn’t help but bite your lip at the sight of glistening slick adorning both of your thighs. The air was a mess of both your whimpers, whines, nearly animalistic breathing.

“Uh-huh, just like that — All mine, baby,” Ellie groaned, leaning just a bit forward to grab one of your tits with her free hand.

All hers. Sure, you were both drunk. But Ellie did nothing but confirm all of which you held to be true in secret. You’ve always belonged to each other – whether the world knew it or not.

“Keep going, please— yes… shitttt. El, plea— please fuck me,” you pleaded, eyeing Ellie’s tits bounce as she rubbed herself against you.

You clawed at each other; fingernails dug into Ellie’s forearm, and Ellie returned the favor with fingertips pressed hard into her grip on your thigh. The incessant and pathetic desire to get closer than you were plagued you both, as if you hadn’t been close enough. You could've shared skin – and surely even that wouldn't be enough.

A mouthwatering daydream of watching Ellie’s eyebrows draw together exactly the way they did earlier, became reality. Lust burned circles around your clit and the deep tug behind your belly button served as a warning.

You could gather the same from Ellie, her eyes pinched closed, movements a bit more erratic, a bit more involuntary.

“Gonna make me cum with you, baby? Make me fucking cu—,” Ellie said, words sloppy and frantic, breathing ragged. “Shitshitshit, holy fuck, fuck!”

As warmth crept from Ellie’s cunt overs – you writhed underneath it. The thought of Ellie’s squirt drenching your pussy did nothing put you over the frenzied edge.

“Mhm, please, so fuckin’ close, El. Please, so close, I can’t fucki— shit! I’mcumming I’mcumming, fuckin’ god—” A tide rolled itself in your gut – you held your breath, just to feel it a bit longer, the euphoric tension and release. Heat ripped from your cunt to your chest, pussy clenching, clit throbbing, Ellie unrelenting. The relief in your clit grew sharp, a bit painful, overwhelming. Your hand rose to her abdomen, preventing her from rocking against you further. “Jesus christ.”

Ellie’s half-lidded gaze favored the way you squirmed under her; you were just so effortlessly beautiful, at the brink of cumming, at the sleepy aftermath – even with sweat beaded upon your brow from the desperate chase.

She adjusted her legs, fixed in order to collapse next you, although close enough to nearly be on top of you. You tangled legs with hers, finding soft, cool spots on her skin to rest on. Ellie lays half-way on her side, one arm folder and underneath a pillow and the other tracing the outline of your jaw. You both take a moment to catch your breaths.

“But friends don’t fuck friends right?” Ellie quipped sarcastically, waiting for a laugh from you.

“Oh, shut up, El,” you replied, a bit of a spirited defeat in your voice. Fighting the sleepiness, the exhaustion, the self-satisfaction – you relented, wanting to enjoy the moment as it was. For now, she was yours and you were hers. You shared a bed. The sheets smelled of you. She called you her baby.

“Let’s just…worry about that shit tomorrow.”

#its been a min hasn't it #yes i wrote this to tv girl #i honestly havent written fluff for ellie #bc i'm a glutton for suffering #but here have some fluffy semi-taboo smut #muah #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams tlou

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msmk11 · 9 months ago

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Best Friend’s Mom

MILF!Wanda Maximoff x college age!fem!reader (Billy and Tommy’s best friend)

Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Word count: 5k

CW: Age gap (legal), best friends’ mom, MILF!Wanda, fluff, consumption of alcohol, mention of absent parent, light smut

Summary: You get invited to spend spring break with your best friends Tommy and Billy Maximoff and their mother, Wanda. But Wanda is not just any mom you soon discover. She’s a MILF. And god do you want her badly. Only in your wildest dreams could she ever be attracted to you too- or so you think.

A/n: It’s finally here per your votes on my poll! This is only part one of (probably) two however. A) I’ve never written for Wanda before so I’m having a harder time saying what I need to succinctly. B) I have the fattest crush on Wanda so perhaps this is just my rambles. I hope you enjoy!!

When your twin best friends Billy and Tommy had invited you on their beach family vacation over spring break, you had obviously said yes. The thoughts of sand between your toes, the warm sun on your skin, and the calming crash of the waves sent a shiver of excitement down your spine every time you thought of it. Of course, you were also just excited to spend time with your best friends, but the beach was at the forefront of your mind. Though your daydreams had already crafted a vision of perfection for this trip, the reality, surprisingly, far exceeded it. This was all thanks to one sinfully sexy Ms. Maximoff.

From the early budding of your friendship, you knew that Billy and Tommy adored their mother- especially since their father had left them all behind at a young age. Their descriptions made her seem sweet, loving, and remarkably kind. While your first introduction certainly reassured these claims, it was her beauty that struck you. Perhaps in your head you had imagined someone a little more….motherly looking… rather than the mortal goddess before you. With the way her auburn hair fell down past her shoulders in waves, her blue skinny jeans hugged the curve of her waist just right, and her soft, pink lips were always adorned with a smile, you were certain she was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

When you, Billy, and Tommy pull up to the beach house in their small gray sedan and a redheaded woman, who you assume to be their mother, comes out, you are dumbfounded to say the least. Before her boys can even get their luggage from the trunk, she sweeps each into a bearhug and exclaims, “hello moya lyubov!”

Their unconvincing protests fall on deaf ears as she continues to smother them in love. You’re sure to tease them about it later.

When Ms. Maximoff breaks away from Billy and Tommy, she turns her attention to you and smiles sweetly. As she makes her way towards you, your heart begins to beat quickly as you realize how beautiful she is.

“Hello, dear,” she greets, “Billy and Tommy have told me all about you.”

Before you can respond, she too pulls you in for a hug. The burn of her touch, even through your shirt, is almost too much to bear, and her flowery perfume that fills your nostrils makes your head feel all woozy.

As she pulls away you can feel your cheeks burning and you try to act calm despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Maximoff, and thank you for letting me stay with you all this week.”

“Oh honey, no. Please don’t call me Ms. Maximoff, it makes me feel old. Wanda is just fine. And the pleasure is all mine, really. I’ve been eager to meet you ever since you became friends with my boys at the start of college.”

“Well, I’ve uh- been eager to meet you too. Billy and Tommy speak very highly of you.”

Wanda nearly coos as she turns to her sons brightly, “Awe moya lyubov, you two are too sweet.”

Your best friends flush red with embarrassment and the glares they shoot you as their mother hugs them again let you know they’ll berate you later for making them “look uncool.” Finally, Wanda pulls away and she urges you all to grab your stuff and follow her into the house.

Once inside, Billy and Tommy kick off their shoes haphazardly and start down the hall to the bedroom they’re sharing (so you can have a room to yourself). You, conversely, slip your shoes off gently and leave them by the door neatly. Wanda waits by your side and then motions for you to follow her once you’re done.

On your way to your room, Wanda gives you a mini tour. You pass through the small kitchen with light wooden floors, white cabinets, and seafoam blue walls. The living room is similarly beachy and charming, with big glass doors opening onto a wooden porch in the back and a smattering of brightly colored furniture organized around the room. At the end of the hall from the living room sits three doors, each leading into a separate room.

“Here we go, honey. Your room is this door on the left, the bathroom is the door in front of us, and my bedroom is here on the right. I hope you don’t mind being my neighbor and sharing a bathroom with me, but I figured it’d be better for the boys to have the master this week since they’re sharing a space,” Wanda tells you.

“No of course not Ms. M- Wanda. I feel bad that Billy and Tommy have to share, though. I honestly don’t mind sleeping on the couch!”

Wanda reacts as though you’ve just slapped her, “Oh honey, no! I’d never make a guest sleep on the couch! I want to make this place as comfortable for you as possible. Plus, the boys will be just fine. They spent the first half of their lives sharing a room, they’ll manage.”

You chuckle a little and smile kindly at her, “Well, thank you, seriously, I appreciate it.”

She waves her hand as if it’s nothing and then motions for you to go see your room, “I’m going to go finish up dinner honey, but let me know if you need anything.”

Wanda saunters off down the hall and you curse her for even walking sexily. Shaking yourself out of a daze, you go inside your room and promptly shut the door behind you. You drop your bag on the floor and then throw yourself on top of the fluffy, blue comforter, groaning into the mattress. You really hope you can survive this trip.

*****

It seems you must’ve fallen asleep on the comfy bed that feels more like a cloud, because suddenly you are jostled awake by a body landing on top of you. You let out an oomph as the air is expelled from your lungs and the weight of Tommy’s body settles on top of you.

“Tommy, you big lug,” you groan, “get off of me.”

You push the boy off of you and he rolls onto his back, “Had to wake you up somehow, you freak. I kept prodding you and nothing happened besides your continued snoring.”

“I don’t snore!” You protest, propping yourself up on your elbow and looking at him.

“Do too” he teases, “mouth open and all.” He then opens his mouth dramatically and lets out an obnoxiously loud snore.

You smack his stomach a little and he groans. In retaliation, he sweeps your elbow out from under you, forcing you to fall flat on your back again.

“Prick,” you grumble.

“Hey you should be a lot nicer to me, you know. I could’ve left you here to sleep and starve.”

You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes, “I doubt your mom would allow that.”

The brunette snorts, “Touché.” He stands up and nods his head towards the door, “let’s go eat.”

You and Tommy make your way down the hall to the kitchen, playfully teasing and shoving each other a little on the way. When the longer-haired brother gives you an especially playful push into the kitchen, you nearly fall right in front of Wanda. You’re a little more than embarrassed, so you try to hide your face from her by turning back towards Tommy and glaring. He’s smirking until he’s not- when Wanda gently chides him for “being rude to the guest.”

“Mom she’s our friend, she can take it,” Tommy reminds her.

“Plus,” you add, “I can take either of them, easily, any day. I was just caught off guard there.”

“Really now?” Billy challenges.

You hum in confirmation.

“Fine, then I suggest a game of chicken after dinner.”

“Who’d be our fourth player?” you ask, confused.

“I will,” Wanda answers with a slight smirk, “I love a good challenge. And I’d love to see you beat my boys.”

“Oh you’re so on, Mom,” Tommy answers with a grin.

The twins look at each other with evil, cocky smirks on their face, and you can tell that they’re confident they’re going to win. You look at Wanda nervously because a) you don’t want to lose to the twins and b) you don’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of her. Her confident smirk, however, so similar to her sons, eases your fears just a little.

They come storming back after dinner, however, when you first see Wanda in a bikini. Though you wouldn’t say it’s skimpy by any means, for goodness sake she’s around her sons, it still certainly shows a lot of skin. The butterflies are beating around aggressively in your stomach as you admire the red swimsuit she’s wearing- the color compliments her skin tone so very well, the top shows just enough cleavage to leave something to the imagination, and the bottoms hang low on her hips, flaunting her soft, white stomach.

You become even more nervous when you realize that you are going to have to sit on top of Wanda’s shoulders. While Billy and Tommy jump into the pool, you cautiously discard your towel on a chair and turn to Wanda, “I didn’t even think about the fact that I’d have to be on your shoulders. We can just call off the game, I’ll probably be too heavy for you.”

The redhead shakes her head and chuckles, stepping a little closer to you, “Honey, I know how chicken works. I wouldn’t have offered to play if I didn’t think I could carry you. I’m a lot stronger than I look, you know.”

You want to believe her, but you are just so nervous about hurting her that you can only weakly smile and nod.

“Hey, are we playing chicken, or are you two too chicken?” Billy calls out mockingly.

“Oh we’re more than ready, boys,” Wanda answers confidently, hands on her hips.

She walks forward and slides down into the pool, the turquoise water riding up to her waist. She beckons you over to the edge, “I’ll stand here and you can hop on, since I know you’re a little nervous about getting on my shoulders.”

You take a deep breath and nod. Wanda turns around and you step forward. Tentatively, you hook one leg over her right shoulder and her hand immediately comes up to grab your thigh. You tense at the skin to skin contact and it sends a little shiver up your spine. Thankfully, Wanda can’t see your face, so she hopefully just assumes that you're nervous about getting on her shoulders and not for….. other….. reasons.

“You’ve got it, honey,” She encourages you sweetly.

You quickly lift your other leg up and hook it around her left shoulder. She grabs your other thigh tightly and squeezes it, as if reassuring you.

Problem one million- Wanda being this strong is really hot, adding to your already insanely high level of attraction towards her. You fear you might pass out on the spot.

“Good to go?” The redhead asks you softly, craning her neck a little to look up at you. Her green eyes are soft but determined and they send a surge of confidence through you, “Yes, I’m ready to take them down.”

Wanda easily wades through the water over to Billy and Tommy, who have situated themselves with Tommy as the anchor and Billy on top. You look your opponent in the eye and smirk, sending him a playful glare, “You’re on, Maximoff.”

Billy only scoffs at you cockily and then waves you forward, challenging you to go up against him. Wanda and Tommy move in towards one another and you stick your arms out, bracing for Billy’s attack. He comes in swinging, bringing his right arm down to your side trying to shove you off. You are braced for it, though, and Wanda’s strong grip keeps you in place. You retaliate by grabbing his wrists, simultaneously trying to keep him from hitting you and also jostle him around. After a few seconds of back and forth, Billy rips his left arm free, the force causing you to wobble a little.

“I got you, honey,” Wanda calls up to you when she hears the sharp breath you take.

You shake it off and head towards Billy with double the amount of determination. Letting go of his other wrist, you go for the shoulders and give him a hard shove. This alone does not push Billy off of Tommy’s shoulders. However, the former twin’s movement throws the latter twin off balance, sending them plummeting backwards into the water. They land with a loud splash and you and Wanda cheer loudly. When the boys come up for air they are spluttering and groan at your victory.

“You two are stronger than you look,” Tommy concedes.

“Never underestimate your mother,” Wanda chides teasingly. She then looks up at you, “do you want me to take you back over to the edge to hop off?”

Your newfound victory, especially with Wanda on your team, has caused your confidence to soar. You shake your head, “No that’s okay, you can just drop me in the water.”

The redhead smiles sweetly, “If you insist.”

Before you have a second to think, she is lurching backwards, sending you both crashing into the water just as the twins had. The water is much colder than you anticipated and it overcomes your senses as you flail around. When you breach the surface you let out a gasp of air and shake the water from your eyes, “Holy fuck that’s cold!” you shout, then immediately cringe for cursing in front of Wanda.

Luckily she only chuckles, an evil glint in her eye, “You asked to be thrown in, honey. I was only doing what you asked.”

“A little warning would have been nice,” you answer with a playful pout.

She only laughs again, her head thrown back a little, and it’s quite the sight to see.

*****

The next morning, you wake to soft, yellow sunbeams falling across your face. The sound of gentle waves can be heard just slightly through your window at the back of the house and you sigh contentedly. You could get used to this. After laying sprawled across your bed for an undetermined amount of time, you finally decide it’s time to get up. You wander down the hall into the kitchen, on the hunt for food, and find Wanda sitting at the kitchen table, book in one hand, coffee in another, clad in a silk, white slip nightgown.

“Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?” She asks sweetly.

“Like a baby.”

“I’m glad to hear it. What can I make you for breakfast?” Wanda asks, already rising from her chair.

“Oh, Wanda, no. Please. You don’t need to make anything. I can just snack on something for the pantry. I don’t usually have much for breakfast anyways.”

Wanda tsks at you and waves you off, “Well that just won’t do honey. It’s more important than ever for you to fuel your body at this age- what with all the studying, busy work schedules and… other things.”

Wanda winks at you then and you choke on your spit a little. Had she just implied…? No, she couldn’t have. But…

“Yes, well, school and work keep me busy enough to not have time for other things, Wanda. And I make up for a light breakfast with more filling meals later.”

It seems as though Wanda ignores the latter fact as she asks how you like your eggs and pulls out a frying pan.

“Well, honey, I really can’t believe what you’re saying. Someone as beautiful and sweet as you must be overwhelmed with social obligations- parties, friends, dating.”

You try to hide the blush on your cheeks from Wanda’s flattery, “No really, Wanda, I don’t have all that many. And I’m happy with my small group of friends.”

“You know,” Wanda starts, turning towards you as the eggs cook, resting her back against the counter, “I have to ask, and I hope you’ll excuse me for wondering, but I wanted to know if you were seeing or were interested in one of my boys. You just seem awfully close and I can’t help but wonder…”

You burst out in laughter at the heinous suggestion and Wanda’s eyebrows raise in bewilderment, “Oh god, no. Never in a million years would I date them.”

Wanda purses her lips and you realize how that sounded, “Please don’t take that the wrong way, Wanda. You’ve raised such lovely boys, you know. And I love them dearly, but not like that. They’re like my brothers. And even if they weren’t, I wouldn’t go for them. Or any guy for that matter… I like women.”

All the confusion and maybe even a little defensiveness drains from Wanda’s face at your confession and she visibly relaxes. She turns back to the eggs and picks up the pan, “I see. Well, the boys are grateful to have you in any way they can.” She walks over and sets the plate down in front of you, “And that makes me pretty grateful too.”

As she stays behind you, Wanda tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you shiver.

“Thank you, Wanda.”

“My pleasure, Detka.”

*****

The tension is so thick it is unbearable as you sit on a chair across from Wanda. At this point, you know it isn’t hot enough outside for you to be feeling this flushed. Rather, the way Wanda keeps looking over at you not so sneakily as she nurses her wine is leaving you all hot and bothered. When she takes another sip you are entranced by the way her soft, red lips wrap around the rim of the glass. And when she pulls the cup away, a drop of the wine is still on her lips. You nearly gasp as her tongue darts out, seemingly in slow motion, to lick it up. At this point, you know your staring is obvious, but Wanda just looks so pretty in that sundress, and one too many glasses of wine has left you feeling a little reckless.

“Want another sip?” Wanda muses teasingly, pointing the glass towards you.

“Oh no, I’m okay, Wanda, thank you.” You answer softly.

“Come on detka,” she says huskily, “just come have one more sip. I don’t think I can finish it alone.”

Really, you can never say no to this woman, so you oblige, standing from your chair and walking over to sit down next to her. Her perfume wafts over you as she leans in and hands you the glass, and you feel woozy.

You take a sip of what little wine is left in the glass and swallow as Wanda watches you the whole time. You turn to the redhead and hand her the glass. She sets it on the table without once breaking eye contact with you.

“Oh Detka, you have a little drop of wine on your lip. Let me get that right-“

She reaches out and cups your cheek. Instead of wiping it away with her thumb like you think she will, she leans in and captures your bottom lip between your own. She sucks on it softly and you nearly moan. Before you can really process what’s happening, she’s pulled away, a knowing smirk on her face, “There baby, all better now.”

“W-Wanda- I.” You stutter.

“Hmm?” She asks, sickeningly sweetly.

“Can you do that again?”

“Do what again, baby?”

You almost whine at her teasing, “Kiss me, Wanda. Please.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she whispers, already pressing her lips to yours again.

You sigh deeply as the flame rekindles in your belly and your heart beats faster. Your kisses are fast and sloppy, your tongues battling for dominance. Keeping your lips on hers you shuffle, straddling your legs on either side of her lap as you wrap your arms around her shoulders.

Wanda groans and grabs your hips tightly, digging her nails into the slight bit of bare skin showing as your shirt rides up.

She tastes like chocolate strawberries and wine and you chase her lips like you’ve been starved for days. Wanda just smells so good, and feels so good, and tastes so good that you’re insatiable. Unknowingly, you rock your hips a little, and a jolt of pleasure shoots through you at the friction between your legs. You moan into her mouth and try it again, this time rolling your hips more aggressively. Combined with Wanda’s kissing, it feels really good.

“Careful Detka, don’t start something you can’t finish,” Wanda warns lowly.

You pull away suddenly, gasping for air, “Wanda, I want this. I- I want you right now. I need you.”

She looks at you intently, those green eyes both soft and loving while also glazed with lust, “you sure, baby? There’s no going back after this.”

“Please,” you say, this time really whining.

“Start with my thigh,” she orders.

You lean back in and kiss Wanda again like before, but this time with the repeated motion of you humping her thigh, chasing your own pleasure. Wanda’s hands slowly travel down your sides, one stopping to grope at your breasts while the other makes it’s way to cup your ass. The added stimulation to your ass and tits makes you moan into her mouth again.

She pulls away and shushes you quietly, “gotta be quiet, baby. Wouldn’t want the neighbors to hear.”

You nod meekly and bite your lip to keep any more moans from slipping out. Wanda takes the chance to place her lips elsewhere, assaulting your neck and exposed collarbone with bites, licks, and sucking. Before you know it, you feel yourself getting closer to the edge, tension building in your belly. Maybe it’s the pace of your hips, or Wanda just has a sense for these things, but she can tell you’re close. Before you can get there, however,

“Wake up. Stop sleeping the day away.”

You are rather rudely awakened, you think, by Billy. His wet hair drips onto your face as he hovers over you, “Come swim with us and quit being boring.”

“But I’m getting my tan on,” you whine.

“You can do that in the water,” he retorts.

When you don’t make any sign of movement, Billy huffs, “You always have to make things difficult, don’t you?”

Before you can protest, the boy grabs your waist and pulls you up, flipping you over his shoulder.

“Billy,” you screech, “Put me down!!”

He ignores you and starts off towards the ocean. You smack his back and flail your legs but that doesn’t stop him. Before you know it you are met with a blast of ice cold water as he flings you into the salty ocean. When you burst to the surface spluttering you send Billy the biggest glare.

“You’re dead meat Maximoff.”

You quickly wade through the water towards Billy and lunge forward. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring him down into the water with you. You’re a mix of flailing limbs under the water. You get an elbow to Billy’s face and him a blow to your stomach before you both swim upwards and gasp for air. Tommy is there, laughing at you both, so you and Billy share a sneaky look before grabbing him by the ankles and pulling him down too.

Though you may have been peeved at Billy for throwing you into the water, it does feel rather nice on your hot skin. It also curbed your rather lusty thoughts of your best friends’ mother. The three of you stay out in the ocean for awhile, play fighting, throwing a football and diving for seashells. It makes you feel like a bit of a kid again, and you notice the recent stress of exams, school, and work fading away.

After a few hours at the beach, the three of you make your way back to the house. You drag your gear- sunscreen, towels, snorkels, and the likes to the back porch and collapse on some of the patio furniture. Tommy wanders inside for a moment and returns with a few beers for you all to share. As you sip and make light conversation, Wanda appears from the house, a tray of snacks in hand.

“How was the beach moya lyubov?” She asks, setting down the tray in front of you three.

“It was great, Mom. You should’ve joined us,” Tommy replies before stuffing a few carrots in his mouth.

She takes the fourth chair, which happens to be next to yours, “I wanted you all to have your fun. Plus, I’ve been to that beach plenty of times.”

“Next time though,” Billy tells her and Wanda smiles a little.

“Yes, next time.”

You reach forward to grab a cracker off the tray, and you’re not unaware of the way Wanda’s eyes follow you. You lean back again and munch happily on your cracker, trying to not be self conscious under the woman’s stare.

Suddenly, Wanda reaches out and pulls on the strap of your bikini top, “I like this swimsuit, honey. Where’d you get it? I’m looking to buy some new suits so I can throw out my old ones.”

Wanda’s deliberate touch excites you, and you keep your legs crossed to hide the way your thighs sort of squeeze together.

“Uh Target, I think. The boys got their trunks there too.”

She hums softly, “It’s so hard to find flattering suits nowadays don’t you think? Either they’re two thin pieces of fabric that cover nothing at all or they’re boxy, ugly one pieces that do no one any favors.”

You groan loudly, “tell me about it. I think Billy and Tommy almost left me behind when we went shopping because of how long I was taking. Not that I blame them, though I told them it’s also not my fault there are so few good options.”

“Mom, one swimsuit had fur,” Billy says with a shudder.

“Another looked like a disco ball,” Tommy adds, “like are you going to the beach or a strip club?”

You all burst out laughing at the sadly true comparison.

“All I can say is that I really was lucky to find this swimsuit.”

And as you lean forward to grab another cracker you swear you hear Wanda mutter under her breath, “Lucky for me too.”

*****

Much of the rest of your afternoon had been spent on that back patio talking, snacking and playing cards. Dinner had been light, and with a few booze in your body you were feeling pretty good. You’d wandered off to shower after dinner, wanting to get the sunscreen and sand off your body. The hot water and soap in your hair feels amazing, and you are appreciative of the privacy to process all of the thoughts and feelings from the day. You still haven't gotten over the comment you are sure Wanda had made earlier. A part of you wonders if you’d just made it up, your horny mind so desperate to believe that she finds you attractive too. But even though it was just above a whisper, the words echo in your mind loud and clear- “lucky for me too”. How could you make that up?

It feels wrong and, frankly, rather inappropriate to pursue your suspicions further. Wanda could’ve meant anything by what she said.

Maybe she was grateful that you bought that swimsuit, so now she knew where to buy hers too?

Maybe she was grateful she didn’t have to be subject to some ugly swimsuit you’d have been forced to wear.

Or maybe. No. You couldn’t even let yourself consider the possibility of Wanda being attracted to you. That would be a bad idea that would only get you in trouble.

You decide there is only one way to solve the problem.

After your shower, you slip out of the bathroom into your room only scantily clad in your small towel. You firmly shut the door behind you and drop your towel, making your way onto your soft bed. You lay on your back, head resting against the pillows, and spread your legs a little. You’ve been desperate to ease the ache between your legs for hours and you can’t wait any longer. You hope that maybe, if you do this, your horniness will dissolve and you can go about your business the rest of your trip happily.

As your hand trails lower between your legs, you sigh at the pressure very much needed to cure the intense ache. It feels good, really, but you only wish it was Wanda’s hand instead of your own. You shut your eyes and your breaths become heavier as you indulge for a moment, imagining that Wanda was here. You think about the way she’d say your name huskily, how her perfume would invade your nose as she held you close, how her fingers would know exactly how to make you feel good, and in no time, you’ve reached your high. Though you try to be quiet, you can’t help the semi-loud pleas of her name that leave your lips as pleasure wracks through your body.

You collapse back against your pillows, panting and your hands at your side. You can only revel in your bliss for a few moments before there is a knock on your door. You scramble up, your heart beating fast in your chest, feeling as if you’d been caught. You throw on your pajama t-shirt at the end of your bed, and it just barely covers your ass. But you figure it will work well enough to answer the door. You rush over and pull it open, and are shocked to find Wanda on the other side.

“Hey, Wanda, what’s up?” You ask breathlessly.

It’s then that you notice how her pupils are dilated, and that she has this look in her eyes. One so reminiscent of your dream.

“You know if you needed help, Detka, you could’ve just asked. I’m more than happy to help someone as pretty as you.”

#the avengers #marvel fanfiction #marvel #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda mcu #milf!wanda maximoff #fluff #semi smut

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honeyteddygrahams-blog · 1 month ago

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pls I beg for sugawara content

~ HAIKYUU LINKS

pls don’t read this if you don’t like porn links please know that the characters are up to age meaning they are either adults or teen ages 18-19

~ SUGAWARA KŌSHI

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~ WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA

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~ TENDOU SATORI

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~ SEMI EITA

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#haikyuu smut #tendou x reader #semi eita x reader #ushijima x reader #sugawara x reader

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gyaruhana · 4 months ago

Note

semi smut ? where her and reader are in a toxic relationship

Semi - Toxic smutty headcannons

Synopsis: just semi being toxic..

A/N: turned this into headcannons bc I didn't know what plot to right (though there's a little paragraph at the end). I hope that's okay! Anyway- second squid game fic of the day !! I cheered

Warnings: mean semi, manipulative, mentions of vibrators, light slapping, edging,

➠ Let’s be real.. Semi is manipulative. When she first laid her eyes on you, she thought you looked too innocent. It’s one of the reasons she even got with you in the first place.

➠ You were cute and naive and she believed you’d be unable to leave her ever no matter what she did to you.

➠ So, yeah, she's mean. And maybe she likes making you cry a little too much. It’s not her fault. It’s yours for looking at her with big doe eyes with tears spilling from the corners and slowly dripping down your face.

➠But she won’t hit you or anything of the sort (unless it’s during sex and she’s punishing you..)

➠ She never admits that she’s wrong. She’s just always right. Every argument always ends with her saying it’s your fault before she decides that you need to be punished for your attitude.

➠ Her punishments are mostly just edging. She loves to keep you stuck between that feeling of almost getting to cum before stopping all together so you can let out a cry and beg her to give you what you want.

➠ She does like a little bit of hitting though. Nothing too rough - just some light slaps across the face or on your ass. Hard enough to sting but not to leave bruises.

➠ When she’s not punishing you, it still sort of feels like a punishment.

➠ Sex with her is usually just her trying to please herself. She’ll let you cum as many times as you do but, if she has enough then she’ll leave you high and dry.

➠ Honestly likes giving you vibrators to wear and then turning them on in public settings like a restaurant. She enjoys watching you squirm and beg for her to turn it off.

➠ She keeps it at a setting that she knows will make it impossible for you to cum but sometimes she likes to randomly max it out or, when you’re close, she’ll stop it just to hear you cry out.

➠ Overall, she’s really just a manipulative girlfriend who thinks you’re completely innocent and likes to abuse that belief.

“Don’t you have any respect for me? Do you think I’d lie to you?” Semi spoke as she thrusted two of her fingers into your hole - her thumb rubbing your clit teasingly to keep you away from the edge of a climax but close enough that you’d be in a tortuous state of impatience. You’d be stupid to think she’ll let you cum after you spoke up to her. Even when tears filled your eyes, all she did was mock you. “Don’t cry. This is your fault. If you had just been good, you’d be squirting by now,”

#squid game #squid game x reader #squid game 2 #squid game season 2 #semi squid game #squid game semi #squid game smut

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kurooh · 1 year ago

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HAIKYUU BRAINROT.

☆ includes: timeskip! miya atsumu, miya osamu, oikawa tōru, kageyama tobio, semi eita, sakusa kiyōmi, kuroo tetsurō.

☆ warnings: 18+ content, f! reader, drug use [weed], oral (f&m receiving), lingerie, cream pies, dirty talk, slightly rough sex, praise, being tied up, blindfolds, mirror sex, 69, food play, shower sex, not proofread.

waiting in lacy lingerie for atsumu the day before his birthday, rose petals strewn around the floor and leading to the bedroom. your skin illuminated by the soft candlelight of the bedroom, the lingerie accentuating every inch of your body. he gets home, kisses you, fingers you until you cum, whining his name. he reaches towards the nightstand, remembering to use a condom, but you stop him, tell him one of his gifts is going raw. excited, he pushes into you, and doesn’t last long. all he can think of is filling you up, using the cum as lube to keep going.

when the restaurant is vacant, and it’s just you and osamu, he sometimes loves to have dessert. more specifically, you for dessert. you take a can of whipped cream, specially tucked away in the very back of the office mini fridge for moments like these. you make swirls on your nipples, make a sloppy heart on your pelvis. eagerly, he sucks onto your nipples, biting and kissing each as his tongue makes quick work of the cream. then, he kisses down your body, staring at you hungrily as he licks your pelvis clean. he fingers you as you shakily make new designs on your skin. he takes your clit between his lips and sucks, savoring the taste. he thinks you’re sweeter than any kind of dessert.

you run to eita after his performance at a concert, grinding on him ever so slightly when you hug him, squeezing your tits together when you ask why he’s pissy. “get the hell in the dressing room,” he hissed, grabbing your hand tightly and dragging you along. a small breeze rushes up your skirt, brushing against your bare pussy. he pushes you in, turns to lock the door, and turns back to you. you jump onto him and kiss him; he catches you, and stumbles towards his cluttered desk with the lit mirror. with one arm, he sweeps everything off and places you down, yanking up your skirt to eat you out. he buries himself between your thighs, fingering and sucking and licking roughly, just the way you like it. your back arches when you cum, and you moan loudly, but he tells you to be quiet as he picks you up again and presses you against a nearby wall. he lifts your skirt again, yanks his pants down, and presses into you quickly. eita tucks his face into your neck, fucking you hard. his pelvis rubs against your clit as he fucks, causing you to cum on his cock — your orgasm spurs on his own, and though you were both supposed to be quiet, you cum loudly together. with you, he can’t even think about how he’ll have to play everything off with his friends when he steps out.

tōru takes a hit of the pen, slapping your ass and squeezing it as he exhales the smoke over your back. it’s warm and smooth, a contrast to how hot and rough he’s fucking your pussy. your eyes water as your mouth dries up, the heat of arousal itching all over inside your body. he passes it to you, and all you can do is grip it and the sheets as he groans, his eyes falling shut as he grips your hips and listens to the sounds of his balls smacking against your clit, his hips slapping into your ass. “that’s perfect tōru, that’s just how i want it,” you babble, your mind racing with thoughts of him. being high together is occasional, and it’s always some of the best sex with him. he gets off on praise, even more so when he’s high, his loud groans breaking into tiny moans as you cry his name. “you feel s-so good, i love it when you fuck me like this, please don’t stop,” you push your head down into the sheets and raise your ass against his hips more, arms shaking. he collapses onto your back with a wheezy sigh, moaning loudly as his cock pumps all of his cum into you. he always cums a lot, and harder, when he’s high; he cries into your shoulder as you weakly throw your ass back onto him, a signal to keep going.

water rushes over your lower back and ass as you scoot forward, closer to tobio’s thighs. his tip bumps the back of your throat and you fight a gag back, taking him as deep as you can. your lips are wrapped around his base, long strings of spit leaking from your lips; the water washes it away. “mmm, fuck,” he hisses, his hand cupping the back of your head as he tries his best not to slip. “you feel so good.” he pushes you into his pelvis, yanks you back and then down again steadily. he’s always loved fucking your face like this. gasping, his body curls forward, over your head, and he can’t hold himself back as his free hand grips onto the shower curtain. his cock slams down your throat, the feeling so tight your eyes can only water as you let out gurgly moans around his wet cock. when he cums, he holds you down against him, whining curses at the way you greedily swallow all of it. somehow, he doesn’t pull the shower curtain down. when you pull back, he kisses you immediately, tongue meshing with yours. tobio loves tasting a little bit of himself on your tongue.

one night, you and kiyoomi decide to try something new. he ties you up to the bed, your legs spread, your pussy wet, and a silky black blindfold wrapped around your head. you hear the sounds of clothes being folded and placed onto the bed in front of you, and you twist helplessly. “omi, i fucking need you.” he sighs shakily, “of course, my love.” seeing you like this is beyond hot; he’s been dreaming of you looking like this for him. he grabs his cock, and guides his tip to your wet pussy. he slowly rubs his tip through your sticky folds, gasping as he watches you try to jerk your hips forward in a futile attempt to get him inside you. feeling his cock grow harder, kiyoomi keeps the tease going for a little longer until he decides he can’t take it anymore and pushes inside you. he presses inch by inch inside you, his hand landing on your pelvis with his thumb pressed to your clit. “fuuuck!” you feel like screaming at him, begging him to fuck you senselessly, desperate for his cum and all the pleasure he has to give. instead, you rein yourself in a little. “kiyoomi,” there’s something dark and demanding in your voice, even though you’re tied up. wasn’t he in control here? “yeah?” he develops a quick pace, gritting his teeth every time his tip hits the deepest parts of you. “i want you to fuck me until—shit!—until i’m screaming.” “you know i will,” is all he can say as he grips your hips and ruthlessly slams into you.

you look ahead through lidded eyes, into the mirror and at your obscene reflection. you’re on top of tetsurō, his cock stuffing your mouth as the rest of your body shakes in his grip. he yanked your ass down into his face, sucking your clit harder as two of his fingers thrust in and out of you. one of his large hands grips your hip, his nails digging into his skin more as you deepthroat him, leaving crescent moon indents in your skin. you watch as spit drips down his cock, down his balls, onto the towel below you. you feel your orgasm nearing, your pleasure climbing quickly when he mercilessly sucks your clit. he had told you before: “watch yourself in the mirror as we cum together.” you agreed, doubting you’d cum with tetsu. he said, “good girl.” and then pulled your pussy down to his mouth. moaning on his cock while he moans into your pussy, you feel the familiar heat blaze through the entirety of your lower body. you also feel his cock tighten, then begin to pulse as he cums hard in your mouth. as you cum on his fingers, jerking your hips back, you catch a quick glimpse at yourself in the mirror; spit covers your lips, your hair is mussed, and you look so unbelievably fucked out, drunk on tetsurō.

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fayelero · 2 months ago

Text

ⓘ 01. GETTING YOU FLUSTERED !

⤷ multiple ﹫ female reader ﹫ fluff ﹫ drabbles

⌗ bokuto, kageyama, kuroo, tendou, atsumu, osamu, suna, kenma, tsukishima, semi, iwaizumi

⚠︎ suggestive for some of them, fluff .ᐟ.ᐟ

𓍯𓂃 bokuto kotaro

Bokuto’s golden eyes lock onto yours with a sharp, knowing intensity, the kind that sets your skin ablaze before he even speaks. He leans in just slightly, that signature smirk tugging at the corner of his lips—cocky, playful, and entirely too devastating. Your breath catches, heat rushing to your cheeks as his gaze never wavers, holding you there like a prisoner to his wicked amusement. “What’s wrong, babe?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing, fully aware of the effect he has on you. The smirk deepens, and you swear your heart might just give out as his fingers brush against your wrist—light, fleeting, but enough to send a shiver straight down your spine.

He chuckles, the sound rich and smug, as if he can see right through you—see the way your pulse is racing, the way your lips part just slightly, searching for a comeback that won’t come. His fingers trail higher, tracing lazy circles against your skin, and when he finally tilts his head, his smirk turning downright sinful, you swear you forget how to breathe. “You always get this flustered when I look at you like that?” he teases, voice dripping with amusement, but there’s something darker beneath it—something possessive, hungry. He inches closer, so close you can feel his breath ghost over your lips, and just when you think he’ll kiss you, he pulls back with a satisfied hum, leaving you burning, aching, and hopelessly addicted to the way he unravels you with nothing but a look.

𓍯𓂃 kageyama tobio

Kageyama isn’t one for grand gestures, but the way he sneaks in those fleeting, stolen kisses when no one is looking? It’s downright lethal. One moment, you’re standing beside him, completely unsuspecting, and the next, his lips brush against the side of your temple—so quick, so soft, you almost think you imagined it. But then he does it again, this time at the corner of your mouth, so subtle yet so deliberate it sends a rush of heat straight through you. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even acknowledge the way your breath hitches or how your fingers curl into fists at your sides. Instead, he just keeps his expression neutral, only the slight twitch of his lips betraying his amusement. And when you finally manage to shoot him a flustered glare, cheeks burning, he just shrugs, leans in one last time, and murmurs against your skin, “You make it too easy.”

As if to prove his point, he does it again—this time a featherlight press of his lips just below your ear, so quick yet so devastating that your entire body tenses. Your breath stutters, heart hammering against your ribs, and he knows it. You can feel the way his lips linger for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, the ghost of a smirk hidden against your skin. And then he’s gone, standing beside you as if nothing happened, eyes fixed ahead like the perfect picture of innocence. But when you dare to glance up at him, you catch it—the slightest hint of mischief flickering in his deep blue eyes, his hand brushing against yours like a silent promise: This isn’t over.

𓍯𓂃 tetsuro kuroo

Kuroo is relentless, a walking storm of teasing fingers and knowing smirks, completely unbothered by when or where he touches you—because to him, there’s never a bad time to drive you insane. His hands are always on you, tracing lazy patterns along your thighs when you sit beside him, ghosting over your lower back as he passes by, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt just to rest against your waist like he belongs there. And he does it so effortlessly, so naturally, that it leaves you breathless every single time. His fingers toy with the ends of your hair, tugging just enough to make your stomach flip, his palm pressing firmly against the curve of your hip when he pulls you closer, his touch burning through the fabric of your clothes like a brand. And the worst part? He knows what he’s doing. The way your breath catches, the way you shiver under his touch—he drinks it in, smirking against your ear as he leans in, voice low and full of sinful amusement. “You get flustered way too easily, babe,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping beneath your chin to tilt your gaze up to his. “Good thing I don’t mind making it worse.”

As if to prove his point, his fingers trail down, tracing the column of your throat with a touch so light it sends a full-body shiver ripping through you. His smirk deepens, eyes dark with satisfaction as his hands find your waist again, gripping just hard enough to make your breath hitch. And then—because he’s Kuroo, because he lives to see you unravel—he dips his head, lips barely grazing your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “What’s wrong?” he murmurs, his voice dripping with mock innocence, his fingers kneading slow, deliberate circles into your hips. “Can’t handle me?” He’s taunting you, playing with you like it’s his favorite game, and when your hands fly up to his chest to push him away—halfhearted and weak—he just chuckles, pressing a fleeting kiss to the corner of your lips before pulling back, eyes gleaming. “Baby,” he muses, hands still resting on you, still making your skin burn. “you’re not fooling anyone.”

𓍯𓂃 atsumu miya

Atsumu is shameless, and he knows exactly what he’s doing when he tugs you in by the waist—fast, effortless, like it’s second nature. One second you’re standing there, minding your own business, and the next, his hands are locked around you, pulling you flush against him with a grip that’s all confidence and zero hesitation. He leans in close, lips hovering just over your ear, his breath warm and teasing as his fingers flex against your sides. “Didn’t expect that, did ya?” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement, his smirk pressed into the curve of your jaw. He waits for it, the way your breath stutters, the way your hands instinctively clutch at his arms like he’s the only thing keeping you upright. And when your cheeks go hot, when you finally manage to stammer out something incoherent, he chuckles—low, deep, and entirely too smug. “Aww, look at ya,” he coos, tilting his head back just enough to drink in your flustered expression, his grip on you tightening like he has no plans of letting go. “Y’always get this shy when I touch ya like this?”

As if he hasn’t already wrecked you enough, he gives your waist a playful squeeze, pulling you in just a fraction closer—like he needs you there, pressed up against him. His smirk deepens when you suck in a sharp breath, and before you can even think of escaping, he dips his head, brushing his lips against your temple in a featherlight tease. “Mmh,” he mutters, his voice laced with pure mischief, fingers still firm against your sides. “I think I like ya even more when you’re speechless.”

𓍯𓂃 tendou satori

Tendō is usually all sharp grins and endless chatter, but when he goes silent—really silent—it’s dangerous. You’re mid-sentence, voice steady, trying to keep your train of thought, but then it happens. His gaze flickers down—just for a second—to your lips, slow and deliberate, before dragging back up to your eyes. And suddenly, every word dies in your throat. He doesn’t smirk, doesn’t tease, just watches you with that unnervingly intense stare, his crimson eyes dark with something unreadable, something that sends a shiver straight down your spine. The weight of his gaze alone sets you on fire, but it’s the way he tilts his head slightly, as if considering something, as if debating whether to act on whatever thought just crossed his mind, that really makes you unravel. He leans in just a little, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, and then—just when you think he might actually kiss you—he pulls back with a hum, lips curling into a knowing smirk. “What’s wrong?” he muses, amusement dripping from his voice as he rests his chin in his palm. “You were saying something, right?”

𓍯𓂃 osamu miya

Osamu isn’t the type to make a big show of affection, but when he does? It’s enough to knock the air from your lungs. You don’t even hear him coming—not until his arms snake around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against his chest in one smooth, effortless motion. A startled gasp escapes you, but before you can even process the warmth of him, his lips brush against your cheek—soft, slow, but deliberate. The heat of his breath lingers against your skin, and he doesn’t move, doesn’t let go, just holds you there like he has all the time in the world. “Didn’t mean to scare ya,” he murmurs, his voice low, lazy, but there’s something smug beneath it—something that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. His grip tightens just slightly, his fingers pressing into your hips as he tilts his head, his lips barely an inch from your ear now. “But ya went all quiet on me,” he muses, his tone rich with amusement. “That mean ya liked it?”

𓍯𓂃 suna rintaro

Suna doesn’t just hug you—he engulfs you, his arms locking around you in a way that makes it impossible to escape, like he needs you this close. His body is warm against yours, solid, unyielding, but it’s the way his lips press against your neck—slow, unhurried—that really sets your skin on fire. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t give you a second to breathe, just keeps kissing along the sensitive curve of your throat, each press of his lips sending a shiver down your spine. His grip tightens as you squirm, a deep hum vibrating in his chest like he finds your reaction amusing. “What’s wrong?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and laced with something dark, something teasing. Another kiss—this time just beneath your ear, slower, more deliberate. “You’re shakin’,” he notes, his tone smug, his arms still locked around you, holding you in place. He finally pauses, just for a second, his breath hot against your neck. “Too much for you?” But before you can even think of answering, his lips are back on you—this time, with even less restraint.

𓍯𓂃 kenma kozume

Kenma is subtle, effortless in the way he completely disarms you without even trying. He doesn’t say anything when he leans into you, just rests his head against your shoulder like it’s second nature, like you were made to support him. The warmth of him seeps into your skin, and you swear your heartbeat stumbles, but he stays perfectly calm—his fingers idly seeking yours out, lacing them together in a loose but deliberate grip. It’s such a simple thing, the way he holds your hand, the way his thumb brushes absentmindedly against your skin, but it sends a rush of warmth straight to your cheeks. You try to focus on anything else, anything but the way he’s practically melting against you, so at ease, so soft—but then he sighs, the tiniest, most content sound, and you swear your heart nearly gives out. He shifts slightly, just enough to glance up at you through half-lidded golden eyes, his expression unreadable. And then, as if sensing your flustered state, he squeezes your hand once and murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, “You’re warm.” Simple. Quiet. But enough to wreck you completely.

𓍯𓂃 tsukishima kei

Tsukishima isn’t one for big displays of affection, but when he decides to fluster you? He doesn’t miss. It happens so fast you barely have time to process it—one second, you’re standing beside him in a crowded space, and the next, he’s leaning down, his height making it effortless for him to hover just over you. His breath brushes against your ear, his voice so low, so quiet, that it’s meant for you and no one else. “I love you.” Three simple words, but the way he says them—soft, deliberate, intimate—has your entire body locking up. You feel his smirk before you even see it, the faintest tilt of his lips as he pulls back just enough to watch your reaction, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. He doesn’t need to tease, doesn’t need to say anything else—he just watches, waiting for the inevitable flush to creep up your neck, for the way your fingers twitch like you don’t know what to do with yourself. And then, as if he didn’t just ruin you in the middle of a public space, he straightens up, pushing his glasses up with an infuriating nonchalance. “What? Did you want me to say it louder?”

𓍯𓂃 hajime iwaizumi

Iwaizumi doesn’t even think about it—it’s instinct, second nature, the way his hand always finds its place on your waist. It doesn’t matter where you are or who’s around; his grip is firm, steady, possessive in a way that makes your heart race every single time. He’ll guide you through a crowd with an effortless pull, his fingers pressing just hard enough to make your breath catch. Or worse—he’ll stand behind you, his palm resting against your hip like it belongs there, his thumb absentmindedly stroking slow, teasing circles against your skin. And he acts so casual about it, barely even glancing at you while you’re left burning under his touch. But then—when he finally does look down at you, noticing the way you tense, the way your fingers grip at your clothes like you’re trying to compose yourself—he smirks, tilting his head slightly. “What’s with that look?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “You get flustered that easily?” His fingers tighten just slightly, a silent reminder of how close he is, and when you stammer out something incoherent, he just chuckles, leaning in to mutter, “Better get used to it, sweetheart.”

𓍯𓂃 semi eita

Semi doesn’t do things halfway—when he kisses you, he really kisses you. It’s never just a soft peck or a fleeting brush of lips; it’s deep, deliberate, and all-consuming. And the fact that he does it in public? That just makes it worse. One second, you’re standing there, minding your business, and the next, his hand is gripping your jaw, tilting your face up to his before his lips crash against yours. It’s not just a kiss—it’s claiming, his tongue sliding against yours with no hesitation, no shame, like he wants people to see. His fingers press into your skin, keeping you close, holding you in place as he kisses you like he has something to prove. And when he finally pulls back—leaving you breathless, your lips tingling, your entire body burning—he just smirks, brushing his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. “What?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “Too much for you?” His eyes gleam with amusement, knowing damn well he just wrecked you in front of everyone, and as he leans in again, lips barely an inch from yours, he adds, “Better get used to it, babe. I’m not done yet.”

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