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xxxdreamscapexxx · 8 months

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Sweet trouble

Pairing: Step!Mother Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word count: 12.7k

Summary: Being left home alone is the perfect time to catch up on all your secret activities. What you don't expect is that your Step Mother has secrets of her own, or that you'll stumble on them accidentally. What will happen when she finds out you've been going through her things?

Warning: NSFW, 18+, lesbian relationship, Stepcest?, masturbation, edging, teasing, oral, fingering, finger sucking, Mommy!Kink, top!Wanda, Bottom!Reader

Masterlist with all my works.

When you woke up this morning, you never, in your wildest dreams imagined that one of your most secret, most shameful desires will come true. It was something you had only seen in fanfiction and maybe twisted porn, but never believed real people did, or that it could in fact, happen to you. Truthfully, if someone had told you such a thing will happen, you would have scoffed and called them crazy.

But you were getting ahead of yourself. Your morning started the way it often did during the summer. You got up and walked down the stairs, to find Wanda sipping her coffee and scrolling through her phone. As usual, she put it away as soon as she saw you and she greeted you warmly.

Wanda Maximoff was your stepmother. She had married your father a little over 4 years ago, but you had known her for almost 5 and despite having a rocky start with the woman, you actually had a great relationship with her. She was warm and sweet and she never treated you like a child, nor did she try to “replace” your actual mother, who did her best to stay in your life. In fact, Wanda treated you with respect and kindness and you soon saw her as a friend.

Well… That wasn’t entirely true. You started seeing her as a friend at first, but over the years that connection shifted. She talked to you about the things your parents never wanted to, she always listened without prejudice or judgement and gave amazing advice. She also cared about your interests and she supported all your hobbies and little projects and she even often helped you.

Wanda was there when you decided to make a replica of the “T.A.R.D.I.S” from “Doctor Who” and spent an entire weekend helping you build it, so it would end up perfect, she watched every scary movie you asked for, because you could never bring yourself to do it on your own, and even though you were both scared, she always pretended not to be. For your sake. And then, when you were too scared to sleep alone, she pretended to fall asleep on the couch and let you snuggle into her, even if her back hurt the next day. She encouraged your writing, she read every book you ranted about… She supported you when you came out. For all those things and so much more, you gave Wanda your love.

Unfortunately for you, those were also the reasons why at some point, you stopped seeing Wanda as a friend and started seeing her as the woman of your dreams. Yes, cheesy. But true. And that idea gnawed at you ever since you stopped trying to lie to yourself.

The truth is, you spent way more time with Wanda than your father ever did. He was good, a good man and a good father, but his work often had him travelling for long. When you were young, he often took the whole family with him. Had private tutors for you, made sure you were educated by the best and brightest and the love of learning connected you together. But as you grew older, that life drove your mother away. To make the matters worse, he realized you needed stability just around the same time he met Wanda and soon, you were left in the big house, surrounded by housekeeping and your new stepmother, while he was away for months at a time. But at least he let you attend high school, instead of hiring more tutors, so you wouldn’t feel so alone.

You often wondered why Wanda chose to be with him when you, his daughter, knew more about her, spent more time with her and, you were sure, loved her far more than he did. But you never dared to ask and she never spoke of that, preferring to focus on you instead and you reciprocated that interest. You watched her favourite sitcoms with her, spent afternoons making pottery with her, which resulted in way too many crooked ceramic mugs in your home that you never knew what to do with, but loved too much to throw away. You taught her calligraphy, after you showed her your first story and she declared that you have the “prettiest handwriting” and asked you to teach her. In turn, she gave you cooking lessons, because her food was by far, the best thing you had tasted, until it became a tradition that you made dinner together.

God, you shared so much of your life, so much of yourself with the woman, you gave so much of yourself to her, that it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise that you ended up falling for her. And her way with you didn’t help matters either. And yes, it wasn’t something outrageous. It was little things, like the way she’d hold you, pulling you closer into her side during movie nights, which by the way were almost every night. It was the way she sat with you on the couch in the study, reading her book while you did homework, mindlessly playing with your hair, it was her protective on the small of your back, when you felt surrounded by people, the way she always knew when you needed her to step in and save you from strangers, or the soft way she held your hand when you went somewhere together…

It was never one thing. It was a million little things and each one had you falling more and more deeply in love with her, until you couldn’t deny it anymore. You realized it during your junior year, when all your friends wouldn’t shut up about boys and their crushes and all you would think about was Wanda. What plans you had with her, what you’d watch with her, what meal you’ll be making together, where you’d go over the weekend… It was all Wanda. Even in your dreams. And to make matters worse, those dreams soon manifested into your waking hours, flooding your thoughts with nothing but her.

Now, the beginning of summer after senior year, when you had decided to take a gap year before college and focus on yourself, your writing, perhaps even travelling, you were fully aware that you wanted none of those things without her. You hadn’t booked a single destination, because you hadn’t yet the courage to ask if she’d join you. You had stopped showing her your stories, because they were all about her and despite your best efforts had turned highly suggestive and then straight up erotic, up to the point that they no longer soothed you, when you thought of Wanda, but rather left you even more turned on and needy.

The neediness, unfortunately for you, had been another new development. No matter how many cold showers you took, how many times you masturbated to thoughts of her, the ache between your legs never quite went away. Actually, every time you’d see her, every night when she cuddled you and played you a movie, every evening when you helped her make dinner, each hot afternoon spent at the pool with her, left you a horny mess.

Today, after you helped Wanda make breakfast, that the two of you shared, she asked you if you’d like to go out with her. She had some errands to do and she promised to make it fun, despite the tediousness, offering you lunch at your favourite restaurant, or perhaps a small shopping trip in the afternoon, but you declined, opting to stay home instead.

To be fair, you wanted to go with her, you wanted to spend every second you could with her, but being left home alone meant that you could perhaps catch up on your writing without her seeing you and asking to read your story, or finally take care of the ache between your legs that lately never went away, but you were never alone for… Maybe even do it, the way you so often longed for, but never could… God, you were a twisted girl. But you couldn’t help it. You just wanted her so much.

Wanda seemed a little bit surprised and frankly disappointed by your refusal, but she took a deep breath and she wished you a nice day, before she took her purse and her car keys, phone tucked in the back pocket of her tightly fitted jeans and she left, putting on her stylish sunglass, before opening the front door and disappearing from your view.

As soon as she was gone, you rushed to the study, reaching out behind a cluster of old, dusty books and taking out the Paperblanks hardcover journal dedicated to Edgar Allan Poe that she got you as a gift. It was beautiful and stylish and filled with all the stories you wrote about her.

As soon as the notebook fell open, you saw the last page you had written on and your fingers traced the last paragraph, reading through it. “You don’t hesitate when your fingers lace with my hair, your grip firm as you hold me in place and you study my face. My mouth open, my tongue sticking out as it awaits your dripping pussy...” Yes, you remember that and your legs instantly cross over each-other at the wave of arousal, but you keep it at bay.

For the next few hours all you do is write. Your fantasies running rampant and free and filling the pages. It was almost a trans-like state, your hand moving almost on its own while the images in your head played out in front of your eyes. It felt freeing to be able to “share” your thoughts somehow, even if no one ever saw them and you only reluctantly stopped, when your stomach growled for food and your hand was cramping.

You made your way to the kitchen, groaning, your writing session had left you wet and so needy, that despite your instincts and Wanda’s voice in your head, telling you to eat something heathy and filling, you pulled out a fruit yogurt with mango and maracuja and ate it, leaning on the counter, wanting to stretch your legs a little.

Finished with your “meal”, you headed upstairs, making your way to the bedrooms. Yours was at the end of the hall and you headed for it, but stopped mid-way, when you saw Wanda’s bedroom door was slightly ajar and you stopped right in front of it, debating with yourself. You knew you shouldn’t go in, that it was an invasion of her privacy, but your heart was so full of longing for her that you eventually reasoned, that you’ll only look around… Just get her scent in your nostrils and leave.

As soon as you walked in, your eyes started to search the unfamiliar space. It’s not that you’ve never been here, but the room was so alien to you, one you’d spent the least time in, that it almost didn’t feel right. You certainly never dared be so inquisitive, when Wanda was there with you.

Your eyes scanned every object, every photo, most of which were of you and Wanda and you allowed yourself to breathe in the aroma of everything Wanda. It smelled like clean sheets and her favourite vanilla and Himalayan magnolia air freshener, like her perfume and just something uniquely her. God, you’d roll around in it if you could.

Everything seemed so perfectly in order, her bed made and without a single crinkle in it, the room so pristine and clean. It was lovely, and your heart skipped a beat at the thought that you wished you could wake up here, next to her each morning.

Walking further into the room, your curiosity almost entirely satisfied now, you ran your fingers over the objects she had on display. Souvenirs from trips the two of you had went to, her certificate for completing a “beginners” course in Latin dances, that she only went to for you and that you had stopped attending, because you hated how every man in the studio drooled over her, the ceramic figurine of a cute bear that you made her one time, a bowl of sea shells that the two of you had collected last summer at the beach…

You were just about ready to leave, when the sight of a drawer, half-open and because of that seeming out of place, caught your attention. Everything was so perfectly in order in this room, that it looked so strange to see it left like this and you went to it thoughtlessly, pulling it open to inspect its content, only to gasp in surprise at what you found there.

It was full of toys. Sex toys, to be exact and you couldn’t help but stumble backwards a little at seeing just how many there were. Dildos in all colours, shapes and sizes and made from different materials were organized, each in its individual place. Handcuffs, soft Velcro cuffs and steal, regular ones easily distinguished. Ropes, blindfolds, some butt plugs, vibrators, lube, a couple of harnesses and even other things that you couldn’t name or guess the intended use of, could be seen laid out and you studied them with deep curiosity.

Did Wanda use all these? Did she lay here, in her big, soft bed and play with herself at night? What did she think about? Who did she picture in her fantasies, when she buried one of these toys inside herself? Did she do it slowly, or did she like it rough? How did it feel to be stretched out and full?

As your mind was flooded with questions, you mindlessly got closer, your hand reaching into the drawer and your fingertips grazing a rather large, realistic looking dildo. You’d never actually seen toys in real life, so the sensation was both strange and exhilarating. Sure, you were 19 now and could buy them if you wanted to, but the thought just never appealed to you.

You just couldn’t picture it. You’d never had anything other than two of your fingers inside yourself and it had already felt too much. You couldn’t even imagine what something so big would feel like or would do to you. Did Wanda enjoy the feeling of them? Did she ever wear her harness and bury one of these inside someone or did she like to be on the receiving end? You certainly liked to imagine yourself on the receiving end of one of her toys, especially after you learned of her past with women. She had shared those details when you came out to her, hoping to soothe you and help you feel like you’re not alone, but you never imagined that you’ll one day walk into your stepmother’s bedroom and find so many toys, or that you’ll find yourself wishing you could see her play with them… God, the one you reached for looked so big, so thick in your hand. That could never fit inside you.

Yet the thought of Wanda stepping into her harness and picking out a dildo from her collection, while you waited for her in the bed, spread out and so needy for her, had your legs squeezing together in search for relief. Would she tie you down? Would she be sweet and soft? Would she use her fingers and her mouth? What would it feel like to have your arms wrapped around her, to be able to kiss her, as she had her way with you?

Fuck, you needed relief. And you needed it now. And you knew you should just go to your room and do what you always did, but this time you couldn’t. You couldn’t just close your eyes and picture Wanda, when here, in her room, all your senses were surrounded by her.

You hesitated for a moment, considering the danger, but it was still early and all the staff had the next few weeks off, so you knew you’ll be all alone. You could just… Lie down. Not even under the covers, just on top of her sheets and maybe pull your panties to the side. They were all wet already. You’ll just pull your dress up and take care of that ache and then you’ll fix Wanda’s bed and leave.

You knew it was a bad idea, but in your brain, clouded by lust, you couldn’t help yourself and gave in. So you did exactly as you planned, the skirts of your dress bunched up around your waist, your panties pulled to the side, while your fingers circled your clit. You lay on your stomach, you face buried in Wanda’s pillow and inhaling her scent as your mind filled with images of her. It was wonderful. God, it was heavenly. But it wasn’t enough. Before you knew it, you had made yourself orgasm twice already, but the desperate feeling never went away. You needed more.

You slowly turned, laying on your back, your hand finding its way back to your clit, but it was only a measure to keep you calm while you thought. What could you do? And almost like fate, your face turned to the open drawer full of toys and an idea sparked inside you. You could… No, that was an extremely bad idea. It was wrong… But maybe, it could help?

Getting up, telling yourself you’ll only take a quick look, you made your way back to the drawer and looked inside. You had no idea how to choose, so you trusted your instincts, picking a fairly small, pink dildo that seemed to look cute and entirely forgetting what a terrible idea this was, you made your way back to Wanda’s bed with giddiness, lying on your back and looking the toy over for a moment, before reaching down.

You rubbed the toy’s head against your opening, getting it slick with your juices and teasing your clit a little, before you started to slowly push it inside. The stretch felt unfamiliar, the toy, despite being small, still being larger than your fingers and you took your time to let it sink in deeper, allowing your pussy some time to adjust to it.

In just a few minutes, you had it fully inside you, the base pressing against your opening and oh, it was perfect. It was exactly what you needed and you quickly reached down with your free hand, finding your clit and adding the extra stimulation. Thoughts of Wanda quickly made their way into your head and you started to imagine the older woman doing exactly what you did to yourself, her hands working you perfectly, while her velvety voice wrapped around you and made you lose yourself entirely.

Taking your time to let it unfold, your body buzzing with excitement and pleasure, your muscles tightening, you knew you were about to have one of the best orgasms of your life, when suddenly, you heard the front door open and shortly after shut itself.

Fuck!

Sitting up, you heard Wanda’s keys land in the bowl with yours and your nervous anxiety hit a new high, when she called out your name form the living room.

Fuck!

She’d start looking for you soon, if you didn’t act quickly! God, what do you do? You needed to get out of there!

Your eyes roamed around the room nervously, toy still buried inside you and you knew you couldn’t put it back like that, covered in your slick! She’ll see it eventually and then she’ll know what you did. In the rush of the moment, you did the only thing you thought would be smart. You put your panties back where they belonged, seeing the imprint of the dildo against them and you got out of her bed. You tried to smoothen it as much as you could, but you herd her voice call out your name again, this time from the kitchen and you knew she’ll come up the stairs next. In a rush, you just closed her drawer and practically ran out, leaving the door slightly ajar as it was and you hesitated if you should go to your room, but before you could make your way there, you heard Wanda’s steps as she ascended the stairs and you knew there will be no time.

Closing your eyes for a moment, wiping your sweaty palms on your dress and feeling the fullness as you tried to calm your nerves, you committed to the decision you knew you had to make and despite every instinct of yours, you rushed towards her, meeting her just as she was at the top of the stairs.

“Ah, Y/N, there you are! I was calling you.” She smiled as she saw you, reaching out to give you a hug.

“Yeah, I heard you, I was just coming to meet you.” You manage to say, forcing a smile.

“Are you all right, honey?” The older woman’s eyebrows furrowed. “You look a little flushed.” She said with concern, one of her hands reaching out to feel your forehead. “And you feel warm too.” She determined, her eyes scanning you.

“Yeah, I’m all good.” You tried to reassure her, still practically blocking the older woman’s path.

“You sure?” Wanda asked once more, concern evident in her eyes and you tried to calm your nerves.

“I promise.” You tried to say with conviction and hoping your knees wouldn’t buckle.

“Ok, honey, but if you feel unwell, you’ll tell me, right?”

“Of course.” You smiled warmly and, seeing that the woman seemed to be going to her room, the place where you had just been, you tried to dissuade her. “Hey, I was wondering, could we have pasta for dinner today? The one with the special sauce you make?”

“Sure, honey.” Wanda beamed, her hand stroking your cheek softly before she moved past you. “Let me go get changed and we’ll go make it together.” She suggested.

Not wanting to seem weird, you let the woman pass and after watching her enter her bedroom, you actually relaxed a little, thinking that you could use this time to go back to your own room and pull out the dildo still nestled inside you, when her voice forced you to stiffen once more.

“Hey, honey, why don’t you go and take out the vegetables from the fridge and start washing them? I’ll be right down.” Wanda called out, interrupting your train of thought and destroying any chance you had of going through with disposing of the cursed toy.

“Ok.” You called out, facing the stairs defeatedly.

In your guilt over what you did, you felt like you couldn’t risk saying “no” and going to your room instead, not wanting to rouse Wanda’s suspicion. So, a little wobbly on your legs and feeling even more aroused than when you first went in her bedroom, you walked down the stairs, doing exactly as she asked, planning how to excuse yourself later and pull the damned thing out of you.

Wanda walked into her bedroom and started to unbutton her shirt, asking you to start dinner as she went, but suddenly stopped, her eyes narrowing. It wasn’t that there was something particularly wrong, it’s just that something felt out of place and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Shrugging, she tossed her shirt on an empty chair and started to take off her jeans next, leaving herself in just her underwear and going to the closet to pick out more comfy clothes. She put on a pair of black sweats and took out a dark red top that she knew you loved and put it over her head, turning to leave, when her eyes narrowed again.

Her bed was all wrinkled and the covers were looking lumpy and it bothered her somehow. Did she leave it like this today? She leaned down and started to fix it, her hands smoothing the covers and tucking them in as she always did, when her palm ran over a damp spot. Now this really caught her attention and she inspected it more closely.

It looked like a small wet spot, more visible now that she knew to look for it and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Had you been here? But why would you be on her bed? That didn’t make sense, until a realization came over her, like pieces of a puzzle coming together. Your flushed face, the way you tried to block her path, how out of breath you seemed and this… The state of her bed… She suddenly straightened, rushing to her drawer.

As soon as she opened it, she knew what you had done. She knew her collection very well, knew exactly what she owned and where it was, so the absent pink dildo was like a glaring hole in the middle of her drawer. But why hadn’t you put it back? Had she gotten home and interrupted you? That seemed more and more likely and at the thought, she could only sigh.

Wanda was a lot of things, but stupid just wasn’t one of them. She realized you had a crush on her somewhere around the end of your junior year and at first the thought scared her. Sure, she had noticed you turning into a beautiful young woman, she wasn’t blind, and you had already shared with her that you were gay, but she never imagined you’d develop feelings towards her. Naturally, she thought it was simple curiosity. You were growing, it was normal. It would probably go away on its own. You were surrounded by girls your own age, with young bodies and unburdened by life, so she believed you’d soon move on.

But as time passed those lingering looks you gave her started to be accompanied by something else. A kind of longing in your eyes, a kind of shy almost hope that she couldn’t quite place. Until eventually she did. Wanda knew you better than anyone in the world, she knew what made you tick and as she watched your gaze follow her, while she sipped wine, your eyes fixed on her lips and your legs squeezing together, she realized that your relationship with her had changed. You saw her differently.

That thought scared Wanda more than she ever expected and she excused herself quickly, practically running to her bedroom and burying her face in her pillow and her first thoughts were for you. She felt terrible, imagining how scared you must be, how sad and disheartened to be infatuated with your father’s wife. She kept thinking about how alone you must feel, not being able to tell anyone. How heart wrenching it must be to spend every day with her and know she was with another.

In her eyes you were her girl and she held so much love for you that the knowledge that she caused such feelings inside you, that she caused you so much pain, was devastating to her. After realizing what really bothered you, she spent so many sleepless nights, thinking of you. And in her love, she thought the best thing for you would be to pull away from you.

Yes, she didn’t love your father anymore… If ever. He was hardly ever home, hardly ever spending any time with her, always promising to retire, but never doing so… The only reason she stayed all this time was always you. She married him because she wanted a family, never expecting that she’ll find that in you. And when she had… Well… That made her choice very easy. But you were such a young girl. An old soul, admittedly, but still so young. She couldn’t let you spend those sweet years pining over your stepmother. So pull away she did.

Little did she know how devasted you’d be, feeling her absence as a hole in your heart and crying so many nights, when you thought that she no longer wanted your presence. She watched your heartbreak from afar, hating herself for it, yet thinking it would be for the best, until one night, when she heard you speak to one of your friends on the phone.

Your broken voice almost made her cry then and there and she vowed to never do that to you again. So she made sure that things went back to normal, to the routine the two of you had, but she never quite stopped noticing how the love in you bloomed.

The summer vacation after your junior year she spent entirely with you, having a grand time going to the beach, sunbathing, while you read books and drank cocktails together. Yours virgin, of course. But she’d let you have a sip from hers every once in a while, to indulge your curiosity. She’d rather let you drink with her and make sure you’re safe.

Then came your 18th birthday and the party you hosted at the house, you and your friends having fun around the pool and she thought that with all these people around you, you’d lose interest, but you never did. After everyone was gone, all you wanted was to cuddle up to her on the couch and watch your favourite movie with her. You always preferred her to anyone else, chose to stay home and try new recipes, rather than go out and she thought that perhaps this thing you felt for her was serious.

And once that knowledge settled inside her, it no longer bothered her. And with acceptance came something else. Something she never thought she had in her. A kind of curiosity of her own.

Obviously, she was flattered to know you had such feelings for her. You were a young, sweet thing, your life was just starting and she… How could she take advantage of you?

Then again, you didn’t make it easy for her. The way young girls did, you flirted boldly, openly and in gestures of sudden bravery. You flaunted yourself to her whenever you got the chance. Wearing skimpy bathing suits and even asking her to fix the strings for you, asking her to go shopping with you and dragging her into lingerie stores, showing her different sets and asking her opinion, wearing short dresses and tight shorts whenever she was around, which happened to be all the time… Asking her to watch scary movies with you in your room, cuddling into her in nothing but your panties and a t-shirt and then asking her to stay when you were too scared to stay alone.

Ugh, you were a tease. She’d feel you wiggle unnecessarily, so you’d “settle” and you’d blush furiously anytime she so much as looked at you. She’d wake up with your back pressed against her front, your ass pressed up against her as you slept happily, and every time you’d pull one of those stunts, she’d feel you chip away at her resolve.

You were so soft, so sweet, such a delicate thing, your skin smooth and flawless under her fingertips. Whenever you’d ask her to stay with you, falling asleep on her shoulder, she couldn’t help but stroke the exposed skin of your bare arms, the length of your thighs, just to feel you. It was a small action, was it not? Done out of curiosity. And it soothed her to be able to get this small thing for herself, since she had promised herself not to take you entirely.

Your last year of high school passed like that, with you parading yourself and eventually Wanda broke. She told herself she’d never make a move on you. It was wrong, but she needed an outlet for her frustration. That’s how she first spent a night thinking of you while she touched herself. Not that thoughts of you hadn’t crossed her mind before, but she always pushed them away. But when she no longer could, that one action broke the dam.

The images of you flooded her mind constantly and she found herself seeking relief in the privacy of her bedroom, imagining she had you to play with. She thought of all the gloriously depraved things she could do to you, the things she could teach you and all the ways she could corrupt you. It would be so sweet.

It got worse as your feelings progressed and she’d often wake to the sounds of your moans in the middle of the night. The first time such a thing happened she rushed to your room, thinking maybe you’re in pain, only to see you sprawled on your bed, legs spread wide and your hand moving furiously in your panties. You thought you were being quiet, that you were being subtle, but honestly, she could sometimes make out the way you called her name as you made yourself cum.

Now, looking in her drawer of toys and realizing what you’d done, she tried to let it go, but she just couldn’t. You went behind her back, sneaked into her bedroom, snooped through her things, used her toys and masturbated on her bed. As much as she was impressed by your boldness and surprised to find that your desire for her went that far, she was furious. You didn’t even have the decency to hide it well! Why didn’t you just wash the toy and put it back? Did you still have it? Ugh, she was angry!

She knew you probably didn’t mean for it to go this far, but she just couldn’t help it. How was she meant to stay away from you, to keep her resolve and refrain from marching down and fucking you senseless, when you did such things? She had to teach you a lesson.

Her fingers clenching over the edge of the drawer, knuckles turning white, Wanda was ready to slam it shut and storm down the stairs, when her eyes landed on a pink remote control. It was for the dildo you had used and she was surprised you hadn’t taken that too, before she realized you probably had no idea it had a vibrating function. Or maybe you hadn’t gotten that far. Who knows? Either way, an idea sparked into her head and she decided to test a theory and if she was right, tonight she’ll teach you a lesson and pay you back for every time you’d teased her, every time you paraded yourself in front of her, every time you tempted her and made her crave you.

In the back of her head, she knew what this decision meant. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stop herself. If she went through with it, she’d go all the way. Closing her eyes and breathing in, she tried to think clearly, but she had reached the end of her restraint, the end of her self-control. She couldn’t pretend that she didn’t want this anymore. She had to have you.

Taking the small remote control, she put it in the pocket of her sweats and she walked down the stairs. She found you prepping the vegetables, just as she asked, your cheeks still flushed, but you tried to act as normal as possible. With a smile, Wanda did the same, starting to make the dough for the homemade pasta and starting up a light conversation with you.

“So, honey, what did you do today?” She asked sweetly.

“Oh you know, just normal things…” You trailed off as your legs squeezed together.

“Yeah? Did you finish the new book I told you about?”

“No, not yet. But almost. I’m so excited to see what happens.” You tried to feign interest, but Wanda knew you. You hadn’t read a page. “What about you, did you have a nice day?”

“Nice isn’t how I’d describe it. But I’m glad to be home.” She responded shortly. “You know, sweetie, why don’t you get the sauce started and leave it on the stove, I’ll watch it while I make the dough and you can sit down. You still look a little flushed.” She suggested and you sighed with relief at her offer, doing as she asked, finishing as quickly as possible and making your way to a chair in the kitchen, sitting down and watching her cook, the way you have so many times before.

Except, as soon as you sat, you realized it was a mistake. The dildo, still nicely nestled inside you, was pressed against the surface of the chair and pushed as deeply as it could go, causing you to let out a small whimper at the feeling of being so full and even with her back to you, Wanda knew that her suspicion was right.

“What was that, dear?” She turned to look at you for a moment, your legs squeezing together so tightly your muscles shook.

“N-nothing…” You stuttered out, a hand gripping the edge of the table.

My, you were so responsive. You must have been close, if you were this worked up. How delightful. Wanda was going to have so much fun with you.

Unaware of how closely you were being watched, or of the wicked plan your stepmother had formulated for you, you started to gently rock on the chair, the movement bringing brief relief to the aching between your legs. But Wanda wasn’t going to let you just fuck yourself right in front of her. If anyone was going to fuck you tonight, it was going to be her.

Reaching into her pocket, she felt around for the buttons of the remote control and she turned it on and let it start at the lowest setting. Your reaction was instantaneous. You gasped, trying to do it quietly and softly, but she heard you none the less.

Feeling the dildo start to vibrate had you stiffen on the chair. God, did your slow grinding press the start button on the device? It was possible. Now you felt the gentle hum of the lowest setting and it drove you crazy. Perhaps with some concentration you could ignore feeling the toy inside you, but you couldn’t contain yourself like this. It was nestled at the deepest parts of you and vibrating against an especially sensitive spot and it had you shaking.

“Wanda, I think I’m going to lie down.” You suddenly said, swallowing hard and preparing yourself to stand.

“Oh, sweetheart!” She gasped when she turned to you. You looked a mess and it was absolutely breath-taking. She always wanted to see you like this. Now that she was so close, she wasn’t going to let you slip away so quickly. “What’s wrong? You seem even more flushed. And your forehead is so hot, baby, maybe you should lie down on the couch, so I can take care of you.” She suggested with concern. “I’ll bring you a cool cloth for your forehead and a glass of water.” She suggested, offering you her hand and guiding you to the couch.

“No, you don’t have to do that, I’ll just lie down upstairs for a bit.” You tried to protest, following her lead on instinct, despite your wish to escape to your room, but she was having none of it.

“But, sweetie, you can barely walk.” She argued, guiding you to the couch. “Look at that, you’re shaking. Lie down here for me, honey. I’ll take care of you.” She suggested, helping you lie down.

She went to grab you a glass of water, just as she promised and, on her way back, she watched you squirm and try to contain the sensations going through your body. When she made you drink at least some of the water, she left the glass on the table and she went to get you a cool cloth for your forehead, but not before sticking her hand in her pocket and increasing the speed of the vibrator.

A loud moan graced her ears just as she did it and she could hardly contain her smirk as she walked back to you.

“Now, honey, you stay here and rest and I’ll go check on dinner and I’ll be right back, ok?” She explained with a soft voice and she stroked your cheek affectionately, basking in the state you were in.

Your cheeks were burning with a mixture of arousal and shyness, your whole body squirming with need, even your hips bucking, when you thought Wanda wasn’t looking, loving the stimulation, yet needing so much more. Fuck, she could play with you like this for hours. If she had it her way, she’d strip you down first, of course, but there was plenty of time for that later. She’d watch you writhe and make you beg to be allowed to cum, push you to admit what you did and then tease you some more as punishment for it. And once you’ve surrendered, she’d make you cum over and over again, until you can’t take anymore. She’ll take your shaking little body upstairs and help you get cleaned up, so she can cuddle you to sleep. But she was getting ahead of herself.

She went to check on the pasta and the sauce you were making, stirring the pots and making sure that it wouldn’t get burned. She often looked at you at the corner of her eye, watching you writhe and, deciding to take pity on you, she clicked the off button on the remote control in her pocket, seeing you instantly settle in both relief and frustration. It was obvious you wanted more, that you needed that orgasm badly, but you didn’t want to get caught and Wanda smirked to herself. She’ll make you beg for an orgasm soon enough.

In the next minutes she let you rest, while she set up the table and finished dinner, not wanting to overwhelm you too much too early. She came over to you carefully, checking to see if you managed to put yourself together and you indeed looked much better. The frustration from the teasing and edging was obvious, but other than that you were holding up quite well and she smiled.

“Hey, honey, how are you feeling?” She asked softly. “Do you think you can come to the dinner table, so we can eat, or should I bring your food here?” She suggested, smiling.

“I’ll come to the table.” You agreed, removing the damp cloth from your forehead and taking her hands, so you could stand.

“Ok, baby, wash your hands and let’s eat.” She smiled softly at you.

Once you settled, poorly hiding a whimper when the dildo was once again pressed into your depths and against your most sensitive spots, you struggled to find topics for a conversation, but Wanda distracted you, telling you about her day and keeping your mind occupied while you ate. It was still hard to keep your urge to grind down on the toy sometimes, especially when Wanda would look at you with those pretty green eyes and swirl the wine in her glass, before sipping it. How could she be so sensual without even trying?

“Wanda, I think I’ll head upstairs. I feel tired.” You tried to excuse yourself after the meal was finished.

“Oh, really?” She said with disappointment in her voice. “You sure? I was thinking we could watch a movie together.” She suggests, pouting at you cutely and melting your heart.

“I don’t know…” You hesitated, wanting to stay, but feeling your walls contract around the dildo inside you and almost making your legs buckle.

“Maybe for a bit?” She offered with hope in her eyes. “You lie down and pick anything you want to watch and I’ll make us some popcorn. If you’re still not feeling well, I’ll help you upstairs.”

You tried to refuse her, you really did, but the truth was, that you could never say “no” to Wanda Maximoff. She was your greatest weakness and you knew you’d do anything she asks, no matter what, so you settled onto the couch, searching through the movie options and finding one that looked promising, while she brought over the big bowl of popcorn she made, sitting down next to you and pulling you into her side, just as she always did, kissing the top of your head affectionately.

You played the movie, trying to distract yourself and reminding yourself that all you had to do is get through the movie with her and then you’ll go to your room and have all the orgasms you wanted. It was just a couple of hours with Wanda.

But you’d barely gotten through the intro, when the vibrator came to life with a sudden buzz and you had to refrain from grinding against the couch at how good it felt. But that’s all the restraint you could show and you quickly realized Wanda was looking at you with concern.

“What’s the matter, sweetie? Is everything all right?”

You barely nodded, pretending to watch, when all you could do was do your best to stay still in Wanda’s hold. God, how did this thing turn on again? How do you stop it, before you have an orgasm, right there, sitting next to the woman you were desperately in love with? Worse! What if she hears the vibration? Could she hear it right now?

It was driving you crazy and holding back became increasingly difficult as time passed, your breathing going more erratic and just when you thought that it will happen, regardless if you wanted to or not, the vibrations suddenly stopped.

“Did you say something, honey?” Wanda turned to you once more, making you realize that you had whined pretty loudly.

“N-no.” You stutter out, shaking your head and she barely contains the smirk forming on her face, before it gives away just how much she’s enjoying this.

She gives you a break, letting you calm down, before she turns on the vibrator again, startling you and this time you look at her, trying to see if she actually noticed, but Wanda had her attention on the TV.

The damned thing was driving you crazy, but you couldn’t help a thought that crept into your mind. Why does it keep going on and off? Was it you? You were sitting pretty still… And then another, more shocking thought sparkled in your mind. Could Wanda? No, that was absurd. Even if she found out you took it, how would she know you still had it inside you? Would she do this on purpose?

As you turned to her, studying her expression, you couldn’t imagine Wanda doing such a thing. But you had to know for sure. So you waited for that moment when you got close, your body starting to lose some of its control and just as you were about to fall off the edge, the toy stopped, leaving you desperate and needy, extremely frustrated and utterly shocked. Did she just put her hand in her pocket? Did she have the remote there?

You had a million questions almost clouding your brain and you had no idea how to ask, no idea how to approach that subject, scared that if you were wrong, you’ll give yourself away, when Wanda suddenly turned to you.

“I see you finally figured it out.” She said in a low, raspy voice, smiling. She was almost predatory with the way she was looking at you, her soft green eyes now full of intensity. “Don’t you know that taking someone else’s things without permission is wrong?” She asked, raising a brow at you expectantly.

“I… Wanda… It’s not…” You tried to say something coherent, putting a little distance between your bodies, but you were in a state of shock and you couldn’t find the right words to explain.

“Not what it looks like?” She finished the sentence for you, scoffing. “I highly doubt that. Or are you going to deny that you snooped through my bedroom and took something that doesn’t belong to you?” She asked sternly, her eyes fixing you.

“I… ” You tried again, the words never coming out. “I didn’t mean to!” You tried, knowing it was a useless protest.

“Well, what did you mean to do, sweetness, hm? Come on, explain it for me.” She challenged again, raising a brow at you impatiently.

She gave you some time to collect whatever was left of your thoughts and she waited for you to say something coherent, but nothing actually came. There was no excuse, and you knew it well.

“Wanda… Please.” You said quietly, not even sure what you were asking of her, just knowing that you couldn’t stand the way she was looking at you, couldn’t stand how disappointed she was.

“Should I tell you what I think happened, hm?” She asked, her tone having that stern edge again. And before you could answer, she continued. “Or are you going to tell me yourself?” She asked again, holding up the remote control that was previously sitting in her pocket. “Do you need a little incentive?” She asked with a predatory grin, a slender finger hovering over the start button. “Maybe another edge or two would loosen your tongue?” She suggested, almost turning the device on.

“Oh my God, Wanda, please, no! Please! I can’t take anymore!” You begged pitifully and her heart melted a little, knowing you’ve probably never been edged. Even now you had your legs squeezed together, your eyes fixed on the remote she was holding.

To be fair, Wanda never intended to be cruel with you. She only wanted to be kind towards you, but you had pushed her buttons today and it had brought out a side of her she never wanted to show you. And you had never earned such treatment from her either, so she found it hard to contain her emotions, but she took a deep breath and tried to soften her features.

“Please, I’ll never do that again!” You pleaded.

“Oh, I know, sweetheart.” She said with surprising gentleness, stroking your cheek affectionately. “I’ll make sure of that. But you’ll have to tell me why you did it.” She explained.

“I can’t…” You tried to protest again, voice shaking. How could you explain that you’re in love with her?

“If you can do it, you should be able to talk about it.” Wanda coaxed.

“Please, let me just go upstairs and I’ll clean everything up and…”

“Oh, no, it’s too late for that now.” Wanda interrupted you, knowing where you were trying to go with that thought. “You don’t get to pretend that nothing happened.” She added with a thoughtful expression. “You see… I tried to pretend that I don’t see the way you act, or your little skimpy outfits, or the way you look at me. I tried to pretend that I don’t hear you calling my name at night, when you touch yourself… I tried to stay away and be a good stepmother, a good wife… And then you go and do something like this… Tell me, Y/N, what should I do with you now, hmm?”

Her words, the way she said them… The admission that she knew of your feelings sent you spiralling all over again and you didn’t even know where to begin. What were you meant to say? What did she intend to do? Was she going to tell your father? God, you hoped she wouldn’t. Not even because you were so afraid of him, but because you were so afraid of losing her. You never wanted to lose her.

“It would be so wrong of me to take you.” Wanda continues, talking more to herself now, her words taking a surprising turn. “So wrong… But you make it so hard for me to resist you.” She confessed. “You’ve been driving me crazy.” She said in a low voice, getting closer to where you stood, cupping your chin with her fingers, so she could make sure that you’ll look at her. “Do you know how hard it has been? Watching you offer yourself to me so shamelessly, listening to your moans at night, hearing you call my name and having to stay away from you…” Wanda’s gaze had darkened, making your pussy throb around the vibrator inside you and leaving you even more needy and helpless in her hold. God, you wanted her! “Do you know how many nights I almost didn’t? Do you know how many nights I had to cum to your filthy little sounds, imagining that it was me, making you feel that good?” She asked, searching your face.

You couldn’t believe the words that kept coming out of her mouth, couldn’t believe that she would ever want the same thing you did, that she would even give you the time of day… You wondered if she really meant it. Yet she kept speaking, her words making the ache between your legs almost unbearable and the need to grind against the vibrator nestled inside you harder and harder to resist. You were ready to combust. Fuck, you were ready to let her do absolutely anything and everything to you, just as long as she finally took you.

“Tell me something, honey…” Her words pulled you from your thoughts. “Do you want Mommy to make you feel good? Is that why you pulled this little stunt? Wanted to get my attention?” She asked, watching your eyes go wide at the mention of the title you used, the one you moaned out when you thought of her. “Oh, yes, I know what you like to call me.” She smirked. “It has a very nice ring to it, when you moan it out, touching yourself.”

You could only whine, too scared to admit how badly you needed her, how much you thought of her, how long you’ve waited for this moment, but Wanda didn’t rush. She held your gaze and she searched your eyes, filled with longing, as she let you think this through. If she was going to do this, she would do it right.

“Wanda… Please?” You uttered in almost despair, not knowing how to ask for what you wanted and not daring to hope that you would be lucky enough to get it.

“Please what, sweetheart? What do you want?” She asked softly, her thumb brushing your cheekbone as a way to soothe you. “You’ll have to use your words.” She coaxed, when she saw the way you took her hand, trying to guide it lower, to where you needed her most.

“Mommy…” You whined once more, trying to plead with her, hoping that it will affect her enough to finally make that final move.

Hearing your pleas, hearing that title pass your lips as you looked at her was easily pulling at her heart strings. It was also making her want to ruin you. She couldn’t deny that it did something to her and despite your poor behaviour today, she wanted to be good to you, wanted to care for you, to shower you with the love and affection you deserved, but she couldn’t make that move, not before you asked. She had no intention to be cruel to you, she just wanted to be sure, that you wanted to take that step with her.

“I know you’re feeling shy, dear, but this matters to me.” She said softly. “I need you to know what this means and I need to know that you want it. For that, you’ll have to use your words.” She clarified again, waiting for her words to sink in, but this time she didn’t have to wait long.

“You know I want this. For years I’ve wanted this, wanted you. And I never thought you’d ever see me, the way I see you, but Wanda, if you do… Please, don’t make me wait anymore. Please?”

As soon as she heard that, she leaned forward, capturing your chin with her fingers and looking deep in your eyes, letting the anticipation build between you, before she slowly connected your lips in a gentle kiss. It’s slow and soft, she moves tentatively, bringing her body closer, so she could let her tongue explore you as well, and she’s pleasantly surprised when your hands grip her top, pulling her on top of you.

Just this small contact had your heart fluttering with joy. You never thought this could be your reality. It felt so good to feel her weight against you. You had waited too long for this. You had spent so many endless nights thinking of just this. But Wanda was worth it. To be able to smell her, to taste her for yourself, you would do it all over again.

Her hands were just as gentle as they ran up and down your neck, or buried themselves in your hair and you couldn’t help but moan and whimper as you desperately tried to get more friction and more attention from her.

She was trying to take it slow, letting herself feel the culmination of her longing and just enjoy the way your lips felt, but it just wasn’t enough. She wanted to feel more of you, feel every part of you against her and explore every millimetre of your gorgeous body. This moment between you was long overdue and you both knew it.

Tentatively, she straddled one of your thighs, pressing her knee against your aching core, hoping to provide some much-needed relief to you both, but it only made you needier and more desperate for Wanda to finish what she started.

“Mommy, please.” You whispered softly, breaking the kiss to look up at her with longing and she instantly understood.

As much as you hoped to hold yourself together, as much as you wanted to prolong this moment, scared that if you opened your eyes, she’ll disappear, you couldn’t help the way your pussy throbbed. You had waited hours, teased and edged and filled to the brim with no relief and you couldn’t stand it a second longer. You needed to cum, or you were going to combust.

Wanda met your gaze, her head spinning from how lost she let herself get in your kisses, only to see you in a similar state. The love and adoration in your eyes, all that pent up longing and your pleas were irresistible. She had to indulge you. Then again, she also had to teach you a lesson and it felt right to use this toy. You had started all this by taking it after all.

With a devilish grin, Wanda reached into her pocket, feeling for the remote control and blindly pressing the start button. She felt the toy come to life with a sudden buzz, the vibrations dull against her knee, but from the way you gasped at the sensation, she could tell you were having a much more intense experience and she let it continue its work, while she took you in a deep kiss.

When it became too hard to keep up with her, your mind too distracted by the pleasure, she started to kiss her way down your body, kissing your neck and helping you grind against her, elated to hear the way you moaned and whimpered from every small touch. God, you were gorgeous.

“Look at you.” She admired you with a soft smile. “I’m about to make you fall apart, while fully dressed and without a single touch to your pussy.” She rasped, her hands massaging your breasts through the fabric of your dress and bra.

Her words made your cheeks burn and pulled another whine from you, yet you couldn’t deny how hot it was, or how badly you wanted it. In fact, they only made you grind against her more, trying to pull her in for another kiss, desperate to feel her against you.

She was right too. You were shaking beneath her, your movements turning more erratic, the closer to your edge you would get, and knowing that once you were there, you wouldn’t be able to stop it.

“Mommy, please I want to cum.’’ You pleaded softly. “Please, don’t stop it this time.”

“So pretty when you beg.” Wanda smirked. “You wanna cum, my darling?”

“Yes, want to cum so badly.”

“If you want to cum, you have to promise Mommy some things first.” Wanda explained, removing a strand of hair from your face. “First: You’ll never take Mommy’s toys again without permission.” She stated sternly. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mommy, I promise.” You nodded, body squirming under her intense gaze. God, you were close.

“Second: No more touching yourself. And no more cumming unless you have Mommy’s permission either.” She explained while she trailed soft kisses down your neck. “Understood?”

“Yes! Yes, I understand.” You almost screamed, your hips stuttering against her. “Fuck!”

“Good.’’ She smiled triumphantly. She could probably get you to agree to just about anything right now. “But most importantly, no one else is allowed to see you like this, to touch you like this, to feel you and fuck you and kiss you the way I can. You’re all mine, got it?” She almost growled in your ear, one of her hands tangling in your hair to make you look up at her.

“Yes! God, yes! I don’t want anyone else, Mommy, just you. Please! I just want to be yours. Please? Can I be yours? Can I please cum?” You spoke in a high-pitched tone, your desperation reaching new hights as you heard the possessiveness in her voice.

Wanda could tell you were seconds away from your orgasm and the smile that spread over her face when she reached into her pocket, stopping the vibrator, could only be described as evil. She found it amusing that you would think that she’d let you cum like this, with a toy you had taken from her, instead of getting to feel you for herself.

“Oh my God, no, no no…” You whined, tears prickling your eyes as the sting of denial hit you full force. It was horrible, being so close, yet unable to finish. If Wanda wasn’t right on top of you, you would have reached down, trying to finish it yourself. At the same time the pleasure that burned through you, unyielding and demanding was somehow sweet.

“How does that feel, my sweet girl?” Wanda asked with a calm, self-satisfied tone that had chills run down your spine. Something told you that she would love to do this to you again. “Frustrating, right?”

“Yes.” You whined, as your nails dug into her arms, as the orgasm you had built started to dull down and fade.

“That’s what it felt like, every time you teased me.” She explained with a growl. “That’s what it felt like, to find out you took something of mine without my permission.” She added, as she took down your panties, her eyes zeroing in on the pink vibrator nestled inside you. “I’ll do much worse, if you try something like that again.” She snarled, the threat clear in her voice.

“I wouldn’t Mommy, I promise.” You squirmed under her inquisitive eyes.

“Learned your lesson, huh, my darling?” She smirked, pulling out the dildo as well, discarding it on the floor carelessly, so she can admire your sweet pussy. You were so beautiful like this. Legs spread wide, slick folds on display and your desperate pussy twitching with need and excitement. You were perfect. “Then let me show you how good I can be to you.”

With a smile, she teased her fingers over your sensitive folds, playing with your clit and pulling small moans from you, before she eased her digits inside you. Your tight walls accepted her gladly, fluttering and pulsing around her happily and a string of moans filled her ears. She curled them experimentally, looking for your sweet spot and it didn’t take long to find it, your back arching off the couch in delight.

“Yeah, that’s your spot, isn’t it? Right there.” She emphasized her words, by pressing on it again.

“Yes, right there!” You sighed, back arching as the pleasure inside you started to grow again.

Wanda’s fingers were even better than the toy, stretching you deliciously, as they moved just the way you liked and you couldn’t believe that you had lived so long without getting to experience them.

Her hungry eyes were stuck on the view of her fingers moving in and out of you, your juices sticking to the palm of her hand, that she made sure to press against your clit at each stroke. It was obscene how much you reacted to her, how badly you needed her and you tried to pull her closer, so you’d hide in the crook of her neck, but she wouldn’t let you.

“No need to be embarrassed, darling. Mommy loves to see how good she makes you feel.” She husked, but gave in none the less, wanting to feel you close to her.

She peppered soft kisses on your cheeks and jaw, trailed them down your neck and against your ear as you moaned for her, clawing at her clothed back and it took everything in her not to stretch you out with a third finger. When your walls tightened around her, gripping her hard, she knew you were getting close again, your insatiable little pussy just begging her for more.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby?” She asked sweetly. “Are you going to make a mess all over my fingers?”

“God, yes!” You gasped, trying to pull her impossibly closer.

“Show me.” Wanda husked, claiming your lips in another kiss, nestling even closer to you, pulling your legs around her waist, so she could press against you snugly, almost folding you in half as her fingers worked your G-spot.

The position was surprisingly intimate, your body trapped under Wanda. It felt snug and safe, all your senses surrounded by her. You could smell her perfume, see the curtain of her soft, wavy hair falling around you, taste her as she kissed you, feel her deep inside you as you reached your edge with soft moans of pure pleasure.

When you finally fell over it, she helped you ride the waves of extasy, her fingers never stopping their movement. You were writhing under her, but she held you down effortlessly, until you gave her everything you had to offer and she pulled out of you with a contented grin.

“That’s my good girl.” She praised, lifting up her fingers to inspect them and slowly putting them in her mouth, so she could clean them up. “And so delicious too.” She added happily.

For a moment she contemplated letting you rest, but her own arousal was driving her crazy, the wetness in her panties a stark reminder of how badly she needed some relief. But it wasn’t just that. She hadn’t even properly undressed you yet, hadn’t had a chance to taste you from the source. She wanted to do so many things to you…

“Thank you.” You purred like a happy cat, stretching a little from underneath her.

“Such good manners.” Wanda mused. “Always such a good girl for me.” She smiled, noting the way you beamed proudly at her praise. “Think you can help Mommy undress you?” She asked, waiting for your happy nod of consent and your eager adjustment, so you can help her lift off your dress and discard it.

For a moment you felt a little insecure about yourself, despite the many times you had paraded yourself in front of Wanda, but she didn’t let you dwell on it for too long. She kissed you deeply, her lips never leaving yours, while her hands reached behind you and unclasped your bra, throwing it somewhere behind her, while her hands explored you. Your skin was so soft to her touch, your body responding to every little caress and begging for more.

You were gorgeous in this state and she wanted to show you just how much she truly loved you, wanted to show you how deep her feelings really went, wanted you to know that this meant everything to her. You meant everything to her.

“Can I see you too, please?” You asked shyly, while she massaged your breasts, eyes fixed on them hungrily.

“Of course, darling.” She smiled knowingly, probably realizing how shy you must feel, being the only one naked. “Do you want to do it, or should I?”

“May I?” You practically beamed at her, sitting up in anticipation.

“Of course, sweetness.” Wanda smiled softly, stopping her movements, so she could give you some space.

Undressing Wanda was almost a spiritual experience. Each item of clothing you were able to remove revealed more of her beauty to your adoring gaze and she felt the swell of pride when she watched you take in every curve with admiration. It felt so good to be admired so openly and she allowed you to take your time, to kiss and caress her, as you shed her clothing.

When you unclasped her bra, freeing her breasts, you almost drooled at the sight of them. Perky nipples stood at attention, begging to be worshipped and you barely had time to ask if she’d let you, before you did just that. Capturing each breast in your palms, you swirled your tongue over her nipples, sucking on them gently and smiling when you pulled soft sighs of pleasure from the older woman.

As you finally reached her underwear, lacy, red panties fully capturing your attention, you couldn’t help but gasp, when you found her just as wet as you were.

“Do you like seeing that, honey? Do you like knowing you make me this wet? Do you like knowing that every night I heard you call out to me, I got just as wet, touching myself to the thought of making you mine? Does it excite you, knowing that you caused all this?”

“Yes, Mommy! I always wanted you just like that. Always wanted to know how you would feel, what you would taste like, if I could have you in my mouth.” You confessed, remembering each time you fantasized that Wanda would find you with your hand between your legs and give you exactly what you wanted.

“Well, now that you have me, have a taste.” She nodded happily, helping you take off her panties and spreading her legs, to give you a good view of her soaked folds.

Instead of answering, you just kneeled, slipping off the couch effortlessly and finding your place between her legs. With the sight of her soaked panties and the delicious smell of her reaching your nostrils, you could already feel your mouth water. There was something so erotic about having her above you like this.

Wanda looked as regal as a queen as she let you take her in in all her glory. Darkened, green eyes never looked away from you, as she left everything on display. And by all the gods, she was magnificent. Everything about her was pure perfection and you were happy to stay right there, on your knees, forever, worshipping and admiring her, if it wasn’t for the hand, that soon tangled itself in your hair, pulling you closer to her.

She leaned in, kissing you fully and only pulled away, when you both needed to breathe.

“Don’t make me wait too long.” She said as she leaned back against the couch, the hand in your hair pulling you forward and closer to where she wanted you.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” You smiled, moving forward on your own and taking a small experimental lick.

Her reaction was instantaneous, her fingers tightening their grip and pulling you all the way, until your mouth was flush against her. She sighed with satisfaction, her legs spreading wider, to give you more room to explore her and by God, she tasted so good. You wanted to devour her whole.

“Yeah, that’s better!” She sighed, her hips canting up against your mouth, as your tongue swirled over her clit. “Just like that, baby.”

Her praise was almost hypnotic, sparking something inside you, an urge to be better than all her other lovers, to show her that you’re worth all this, that you would earn the privilege to be hers. To show her that you would learn what made her feel good, what made her moan out in pleasure, what had her screaming and bucking her hips into your mouth. You’d learn it all and you’ll give it to her, just so she would call you her good girl again.

“Fuck, yes!” She cursed under her breath. “So fucking good with your mouth.”

Her hand in your hair kept you firmly against her, nails scratching at your scalp as Wanda guided you through what she wanted. And she wasn’t shy about it either. The closer she got, the more she used you for her pleasure, her legs planted on your shoulders as she rode you even more.

“Fingers, honey. Put your fingers inside me.” She spoke breathlessly, almost suffocating you with how much she pushed you into her pussy, when she felt you enter her. “Yes, just like that!” She praised. “Such a good girl. Gonna make Mommy cum so hard.”

The prospect of making her cum had your excitement reach new levels and you doubled your efforts, swirling your tongue around her clit in circles that seemed to drive her crazy. You could feel her walls pulse around your fingers, squeezing you and pulling you in, as far as you could go and you knew she wouldn’t last much longer.

Wanda reached her edge with a high-pitched moan, her thighs squeezing around your head and the hand in your hair tightening its hold on you almost painfully, just as she started to fall apart. The orgasm that built in the pit of her stomach spread like a tidal wave, coursing through her entire body as she shook against you.

She could feel your free hand gripping her thigh, trying to keep her steady as you helped her ride it all out. When she did, body slumping on the couch with a happy sigh, she hurried to pull you up and into her embrace. Getting to cum with your mouth and fingers felt so much better than the empty nights she spent with her toys and she knew she wouldn’t be able to give you up, even for a second.

When she was able to recover, she got up, helping you to your feet with a gentle hand.

“Let me take you upstairs, sweetheart.” She suggested. “I believe you had an interest in my collection?”

Her words were full of innuendo and you practically leaped, following her up the stairs and only stopping in front of her bedroom.

“Wanda?” You looked up at her, a little insecure.

“Yes, darling.” She paused, at hearing her name pass your lips, instead of the title you chose to give her.

“Is this…” You tried to ask, but couldn’t find the right words, biting your lips in anticipation. “Does it mean…”

“You mean everything to me, Y/N.” She said reassuringly, clearly understanding what you wanted to ask.

She had spent her whole life looking for love like yours. For someone, who would worship her the way you did. And now that she had it, she couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. Couldn’t imagine ever sharing you with another soul, or letting anyone ever touch you the way she did. As soon as she kissed you, she knew that she will commit to you for good.

“Do you mean it?” You looked at her with hopeful eyes. “Because I…”

“So do I, my darling.” She smiled softly at you, knowing that neither one of you was ready to admit it just yet.

The two of you stood there, in front of her door, for a few moments longer, just smiling at each-other, letting your eyes say the things you couldn’t form into words, before you couldn’t stand the tension any longer.

“May I kiss you again?” You asked a little shyly, fighting the urge to hide into her again.

Wanda’s smile only widened. She opened her door, the soft light from within illuminating the perfectly pristine space, as she pulled you closer to her.

“Come inside, sweetheart and you can do so much more than just kiss.”

______________________________________________________

I just might have to make a part 2 to this fic, because there is just so much left unsaid here... But at least I get to share the beginning with you guys! Let me know what you think!

If you liked this story and you want more, please visit the Masterlist with all my works. Happy reading!

Disclaimer: Image not mine. I'd happily give credit to the owner if I knew who they were :)

#writing #lesbian #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff smut #bottom!reader #top!wanda #scarlet witch

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hxltic · 3 months

Note

i absolutely need suna x reader having secret sex while the miya twins are a room across🫣

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

You had no real attraction to Suna, but it was just one of those nights where your brothers came home after a game, bringing his friends along with him to celebrate, and to avoid sitting in their sweat, they had to shower. Thank god you took yours before the boys made it. Being the last to shower when the floor is wet and it’s steamy already is literally the worst shit ever.

The problem was, Suna never really came over; therefore, he had no real way to know which room was your brothers’.

He had specific instructions to shower and take some clothes from his room. Looking back on it, he should’ve asked which door it is, but strutting back with nothing but a towel on his waist is not an option. So, he resorts to opening every door until he finds what he would think is the room of his teammate. Or rather…either of them?

Instead, the knob twists as you’re fully bent over in your walk-in closet, digging through a basket of clean clothes for a t-shirt. Of course it had to be the second you wanted to change when he walked in, and not when you were comfortably reading in bed with a little light on earlier. There’s no bra on your chest now, just a pair of navy blue lace panties.

Hey! On the bright side: they could’ve been cotton with “kiss my ass” stamped on the back.

Your arms draw up in an effort to hide your chest when you hear the twist of the knob and the door come flying open. Key word is effort, because now your breasts are pressed up against each other, which Suna believes is ten times worse for you than the position he found you in. At least when you were bent over, he had to imagine whatever he couldn’t see.

“Holy— shit!” you exclaim, eyeing the man at your door that’s actively dripping water on your carpet. His hair is fallen and sticking to his face messily, just enough for you to spot his slim eyes. He doesn’t say anything at first.

It’s mainly just him blinking blankly at you while you panic, searching the room for literally anything to provide some decency, but once you render the clear lack of any emotion you currently possessed in his body, it calms your nerves a bit.

He’s seen a woman before. It doesn’t make him any less prone to being attracted to puffy lips and nipples only covered by an arm, but it somehow soothes you to know he won’t make a big deal out of it and maybe not even mention it to your siblings.

Eventually, you throw on the nearest shirt over your head and pull your hair through, dirty or clean, still with no pants to match.

You sigh deeply, “What is it Suna?” It comes out in an irritated grunt.

“You know my name.” His eyebrows raise with surprise, but not as high as the average person’s would.

“Yeah, I do. Is there a reason you’re still here?”

He presses on: “How do you know it? Do they talk about me a lot?”

Your head drops in your palm to shake back and forth. “I can’t do this right now,” he overhears your mumble.

“My bad, I was looking for Tsumu’s room but got jumpscared instead.”

Despite saying this, he still stands in the doorway— not with it cracked, but with it wide fucking open— and it’s then when creaks from the stairs clears the air between you two. He doesn’t move, but you quickly shove him over to peek around the corner, then drag him into your bedroom before whoever it is gets the wrong idea by the view from the hallway.

While you’re turned after throwing him mindlessly into your room, he readjusts the falling towel around his waist. What he said finally hits you a few moments too late.

“Jumpscared?! You? I’m in the comfort of my own room when you barge in with nothing on!” Your hands gesture up and down his body as you scold him. “And don’t talk about my body like that!” Only he doesn’t really look at your eyes. When you’re done, he finds your attention.

“It was really an accident, but I’ll stay until whoever goes back downstairs,” he shrugs. “And why does it smell like sex in here?”

Your cheeks redden. There was a reason you were looking for a change of clothes. “It doesn’t.”

“Yeah, it does.” He flops back onto the bed carelessly, dipping your comforter.

“Stop! You’re getting my sheets wet.” His body has only slightly dried, but with the full head of hair he has, it hasn’t dried at all. “Suna, get up.”

“They probably already are.”

He closes his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. His stature was not what you thought it’d be. He was tall and packed with muscle in his legs. You could tell that much by the pictures if you didn’t figure it out by the fact that when he’s sitting you’re still face to face, but on top of that, his abdomen was carved and his arms carried some weight too. Nothing compared to the sheer size of his thighs though; they had to be the size of your head. Just by photos he’s an average high school athlete, so it almost appears fake.

Unfortunately, as you were looking, his eyes had opened and he’d been watching you inspect him. Suna will always preach there are benefits to being as quiet as he is, like how he can pinpoint that your fingers come to pinch the edge of your shirt.

You clear your throat in hopes it will gather your thoughts too, then rectify his past statement. “They aren’t.”

“Right… like all the red tabs in this book are for nothing?” He reaches beside him to take it in his hands, then he flips through the pages quickly until he comes across one. “‘I run my fingers down her trembling thighs that yearn for my touch. You’ll take it like a—’”

Before he can finish what you remember is very unfortunately highlighted, you crawl over him to rip it out his hands and throw it. You chuck the literature nowhere in particular with embarrassment that can’t get any higher as he laughs, then you quickly retreat with a knee up on the edge of the bed. His laughter is a sweet sound. It makes sense why he’s friends with your brothers.

You don’t even notice you’re half-straddling him while you point your finger in his face. “What I read is none of your business.”

He spoke clearly and assertively when he read, and the last thing you need him figuring out was how bad your body desired he’d read the words to you again; he was already too observant.

“Of course. Forgive me for saying such vulgar things around my friend’s sister. She would never do such a thing.” Finally, he slowly sits up, which naturally makes you rise with him, so you place your hand on his shoulder to prevent from wobbling. Your thigh is beside his with your foot unstable on the floor. “She’s just so sweet and innocent, and definitely not up here alone reading book porn.”

Your breathing picks up at the proximity and the pressure of a question you can’t avoid. You search between both his eyes that do the same to you. He deserves a medal or something, because fuck— the shirt lifts just a little bit every time you fiddle with it and the lace sticks to your skin like glue. “I— uhm,” you stutter, removing your stability from his body and backing away from the bed.

Of course, to add to the fucking embarrassment, you stumble backward, but he reaches out to you. His hand firmly wraps around your wrist and the other is hooked behind your back when he jerks you back up to him. He only releases your wrist.

“Is that all you read?”

You shake your head. “I read regular romance and fantasy too.”

He nods, “Ah, I see. So you want the prince of a faraway land to twirl you around in his field of flowers saying how much he loves you, then you want him to make you beg to come?”

Your eyes shoot wide at the comment, only stretching the lazy smirk on his face.

“N-no,” you reply, even though that does sound extremely appealing.

“But you do want someone to ‘run their fingers down your trembling thighs’ though, right?”

To emphasize his point, he lets the knuckles of his hand trickle down the back of your thigh, just barely grazing the skin. The sensation shocks you and almost sends you forward. This can’t be happening. Actually, you pray it isn’t, so your eyelids slam shut.

This prompts his other hand to pinch either side of your jaw gently and drag your face to his. “Or lay you back and tell you to take it like a good girl.” His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, then back up, noting the state of disbelief your countenance holds. He flattens the hand that stops just under your ass.

You almost melt in his hold, and this he knows because of the long breath you took after his words. It’s easy to infer you’re fairly untouched by not only your responses but how receptive you were. It was you two, only about an inch from each other now, waiting to see who would make the next move and risk something far worse than just a growing attraction. The twins flash in your head as a beat passes and you swallow.

“Yes. But that has nothing to do with you.”

Suna shines a smile with his teeth. “Your thighs are rubbing together.”

You look him up and down. “So?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You don’t look him in the eyes, they drop to your pillows. Before you can separate the thighs in question that are only disconnected by his fingertips, he nudges you forward onto him, bringing your hands back to his shoulders. You’re completely straddling while attempting to keep your eyes locked on his when his entire torso is on display. He leans forward to speak just above a whisper in your ear as if this is a normal occurrence.

“I can feel you dripping all over my hand.” The cool of his breath tickles your neck, only worsening as he continues. “Why is that?”

You’re at a loss for words at first, but you suck it up, holding your own. “Nothing to do with you. Maybe I went too hard earlier.”

He wholeheartedly chuckles at this response. “So you admit it?”

“Admit what?”

“That you were up here fucking yourself to your book?” His voice is an echo behind you since he’d decided to rest his chin comfortably on your shoulder.

“Yeah. Yeah— I guess I do. It’s not like you didn’t come in here and figure it out yourself,” your eyes roll.

“Which part were you reading?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

There’s a moment of silence. “She’d just decided to drop her toxic ex-boyfriend and his sister came to console her. The way she did it was kind of fucked up, and I think the slow burn is what made me look past it, but anyway— she brings her to a party, the boy she meets there happens to be the barista at the place she orders from every day, and he has a history with the main character’s ex. He hates him even though he’d gotten over it as years passed, but she really wants to get back at him, so they send an anonymous short video of them, um… together, and he gets really pissed off.”

Suna is quiet as he reviews what you just said. He admires your perception of the book and the passion to read. He goes, “You’re into that?” and then it’s your turn not to say anything, even with the amusement lacing his tone. You grow fidgety, and just when you don’t think any more words will be exchanged, he suddenly demands, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That. What you just did.” You shifted your weight from leg to leg as the silence grew longer. Just to see, you do it again.

“You’re grinding against me when you do that by the way.”

You giggle maliciously, continuing to go back and forth. It’s payback for teasing you the entire time. He comes to hold your hips still to prevent further movements, but in protest, you create an arch in your back to actually roll your hips down instead, ensuring he felt it.

“Okay, really, unless you want to move like that with my cock nine inches inside of you, I suggest you choose your battles now.”

You finally halt at the words because he was dead serious. He feels scratching along his shoulder blades at your fingers curling up in response, but not removing yourself. He still rests his head beside yours. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re into that too?”

So that’s how he ended up with his back to your headboard, head tipped up, looking at you through his pretty eyelashes as you wrap your hand around his slick length and reposition it to line up. You lower your body down, allowing your walls to open up for him. The stretch hurts only a little just because he’s so big.

You hadn’t kissed him the entire time, so he groans desperately when you wrap your fingers tightly around his neck and come close. He allows you to no matter how hard you squeeze.

This drives up your confidence with your pretty lace panties pushed to the side, making you raise to your feet.

“Shit,” he grabs ahold of your ankles between half-lidded eyes, and his mouth slightly dropped like he can’t believe what the fuck he’s seeing. “If Atsumu could see you now.”

The mention of your brother at all should turn you off, but it doesn’t. It only fuels you knowing that you’re actively riding his teammate. In fact, you must tighten around him, because he knows immediately.

“What? Does that turn you on? Fuckin’ slut.”

You whimper at the words, pressing your lips forward to his. You kiss him the best you can as he hungrily reciprocates.

The bed moves forcefully, but Suna knows the other guys are probably too busy downstairs to hear it, and whoever is in the other room may only potentially be a problem. So up and down you go, now slamming your ass against him and reddening his slightly tan, freckled skin.

“hhhmmm,” you whine, breathing shallow.

The brunette lets you go until your legs burn and you’re slowing pace. It’s driving him insane watching you chase your orgasm, using him like he was the perfect replacement for your fingers, in your own little world with your face twisted up in ecstasy and muscles straining. You were too stubborn to stop when he offered it to you, but he doesn’t mind. Not everyone has legs like his.

He instructs while inching his hips up the bed, “Fall back to your knees.” You do, and he grabs one wrist in each hand before digging his heels into the blanket and pounding up into you at a pace you don’t think you could ever meet. It’s rough and loud and you can feel his balls coming up to strike you from behind. Quite literally, it takes your breath away.

“fuck fuck fuck yes,” tendrils of your hair fall over your face when you lay your head down over his shoulder for stability. Aside from not being able to move, this is the best angle for the both of you. Your tits move over his face, which would allow him to suck and bite as he pleases while holding you still, and with the tilt of your body his fat tip reaches your most sensitive part.

You bounce over and over and he wishes he would have pulled your shirt up first. He’s grunting in your ear dangerously.

“Was this in your book too? Is this when he told her to take it like a good girl?”

You try to answer but it’s incomprehensible with the speed of his thrusts. “Again.”

“Y-yes,” you retry, finally getting something out. He’s satisfied with this, so he lets go of your wrists and pushes you upright, only slowing for the moment. This time, he wraps his fingers around your neck, just enough for you to breathe, while rolling his thumb across your revealed clit. The veins of his forearm show themselves and he peers up at you with a glare as if you were the most irritating thing to him.

How hard you were holding him is nothing compared to how hard he is holding you, and just that thought has your eyes threatening to fall closed.

“Then be a good. Fucking. Girl,” he punctuates each word with a harsh upwards cut of his hips, “and take it.”

“Oh God,” you connect your own weak hands around his, your mouth falling open with every moan that floats into the air. He holds your gaze with his threatening eyes, and if you tried to look anywhere but him, he’d pull you right back. “Suna, I’m coming,” you rush it out like there’s no stopping now. And honestly, you’re currently wishing you didn’t say it at all, because you know if he told you not to, your body would try its best to comply.

“No the fuck you’re not.”

Godammit.

Removing his finger from your nub, he moves the hand to meet the other at your throat. You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to, which you did, just to let him know that this would only make it worse. There’s a movement: you’re coming down on him yourself with the force of the thrust driving you up.

Your mouth creates the words, but they don’t come out. Suna knows anyway. “Please.”

“No.” And it’s as simple as that, because then he says, “Do you hear that?”

Of course you don’t, he just asked to see if you were sane enough to come back to your senses and focus your hearing. His tight hold on you is enough to leave a mark, but not enough to prevent your head from slowly shaking back and forth.

“On the other side of that wall is your brother. Both of them.” Your eyes shoot wide at the same time his thrusts calm down. He still continues, it’s just with a deep grind to prevent the hard slapping of skin, and he brings your forehead to his as he speaks to you. “Come now and both of us are in trouble.”

He has valid reasons to infer that it is specifically the twins, but he’s sure you don’t want to hear those right now. If it was up to him, you would have been throwing your head back and showing that arch he imagines you had before he intruded in on you changing, but holding it above your head like meat to a starving dog was fine too.

“Please let me come Rin, please. I’ll be quiet,” a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose ends your pleading, hoping it softens him up with the use of his first name.

And maybe it worked, because his eyebrows curl upwards with pity when he explains, “We both know you’re too vocal for that, princess. How about we try something else?”

You nod frantically, raising off his length and letting him lay down completely while you wait for directions. He gets situated by moving pillows out of the way. “Come here.”

You realize now the pity he expressed was fake. Swinging your leg over his waist, you begin to line yourself up.

“No. come here.”

You stare at him dumbfounded.

“Up here, towards me,” he ushers his hands. You scoot closer towards his chest with your hands on his pecs, not sure how much closer the two of you can get.

“My face, baby.”

Instead of getting angry with you, he kept his tone. It was little but it made you feel good. “Oh.”

You come to a hover over his lips, contemplating a lot and nothing at the same time, mainly if this man was really under you telling you to do what you’re doing.

“Sit.”

“Are you sure?” You clarify.

“Yes. Sit before I make you read your porn to me.” This brings your eyebrows in with a crease and you drop with no remorse on his lips. His face is smothered somewhere between his eyes. The only thing visible is his damp hair.

Unfortunately for you, he enjoys the thrill of not being able to breathe.

You’re less than two minutes into absolutely grinding on his tongue, chasing the vibrations of his grunts and groans by tugging on his hair. Your other hand is covering your mouth.

Thankfully, because there’s a quick knock, and Osamu’s voice passes through the door. “Pizza’s here. You okay in there?”

You nod as if he can see you. You then realize he cannot.

Shakily, you call out “Yes.” The only way to not moan while Suna slides the muscle between your lips to taste all of your slick is by biting your lip. His fingers grip the fat of your thighs.

“Okay.” In the background there’s another voice, presumably your other brother. Finally, they become faint until you hear the stairs, and you allow yourself a little freedom.

“Rin,” you look down fully expecting to meet his eyes, but you can’t see him past your hair.

“Hmphh?”

“I’m close— can I?” On cue, he pushes in as far as his tongue can go inside your hole. He nods yes, simultaneously flattening it to lick all of you in one stripe before deliberately sucking your clit.

To muffle your sounds, your hand comes to cover your mouth once again and you’re somehow managing to prepare for your eyes squeezing shut at the same time as your muscles tensing. Suna can feel you dripping, literally this time.

this was kinda rushed

©️hxltic

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wonbriiize · 4 months

Note

bestfriend!Anton who puts you on his lap to give you affection, touches your hair, kisses you on the neck...being super clingy and fluffy :(

pairing; anton x reader

genre; fluff, best friends to lovers

note; i thought this was such a cute idea so i wrote something based on it.. hope u like it anon ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

listen to your heart

while working in retail isn’t all that horrible most of the time, you despise it over the holidays. everyone goes crazy as they search for last-minute christmas presents for their loved ones, friends or anyone else.

today was one of those days when everything was so annoying that you really thought about quitting your job right then and there.

luckily, your shift has ended and you are now on your way back home. you seem to be forgetting what a terrible day it has been so far as you imagine yourself curled up in your warm bed while drinking hot choco and watching your comfort movie.

“*y/n*, someone is waiting for you in your room,” your mom says after giving you a big hug when you arrive at home.

you‘re confused as to who it could be, until you recall that your best friend anton texted you saying he‘d drop by later as you were spamming him with messages about that one costumer who was extremely rude to you.

you run up the stairs to your room. you’re not so sure why you’re so eager to see anton, but you can’t help yourself. being with anton after a tiring day makes you feel at ease. he just has that effect on you.

“ohhh, slow down,” anton sits up on your bed. you can tell he made himself feel at home because just a second ago he was laying in your bed as if it was his own. “why are you running? is the rude customer after you?”

since you can’t tell anton that you hurried up to your room because of him, you just throw yourself on your bed. “no, i just really missed my bed. it has been an exhausting day.”

“and here i was hoping that you were running because you couldn’t wait to see me,” anton pouts, leaning back on your bed.

you’re right, you think. but i can’t let you know..

“well, apparently you were missing me because how are you at my house when i’m not even there?”

anton shrugs. “so what if i missed you, is it so wrong to miss your best friend?”

you’re shocked at how casually anton can say things like this. does he truly not realise how much of an impact his words have on you? it irritates you that he's saying these things and acting so dreamy when you're already trying to shake the thought that you like him — much more than you could ever imagine liking someone.

you sigh, laying down on your back. “i just really need to rest.”

“hey, come here,” anton pats next to him. “we can rest together.”

for a second, you’re not sure if you should really go and sit down next to him, because your feelings are all over the place today and you don’t know what could happen, but you push those thoughts aside and just go for it.

“you can lay your head on my lap. i will give you a head massage. i‘m a pro,” anton softly smiles at you.

god, he really isn’t making it easy to not fall in love with him, you sigh. your head is telling you not to do it, but for once in your life, you decide to listen to your heart instead.

you place your head gently on anton‘s lap. you’re afraid you won't be able to resist kissing anton if you open your eyes and see him staring down at you, hence why your eyes are closed.

anton starts massaging your head softly and you’re surprised at how good it actually feels.

“i didn’t expect you to be actually good at this,” you say.

“i told you i‘m a pro,” anton chuckles. hearing him giggle put a smile on your face and usually you would try to hide that, but right now, you’re just letting it happen.

“there it is,” anton whispers softly as he touches your cheek, causing you to open your eyes immediately.

“what?”

“your beautiful smile.”

you start laughing nervously. what’s his deal? why is he being extra sweet today?

“don’t say such things, anton.”

“why not?" his hand returns to your head, but instead of giving it a massage, he plays with your hair, twisting it around with his index finger.

“best friends don’t say that..” what you just said has a sad undertone, but you don’t care. maybe if anton knows that he’s kind of playing with your feelings, he will stop being like that.

anton shakes his head. “no, they don’t.. but here’s the thing, *y/n*..”

the sudden change in the atmosphere makes you nervous so you sit up. still close to anton, but there’s a little distance between the two of you now.

“i‘ve been trying to tell you for the longest time that i don’t want to be just best friends with you,” anton blurts out. “i thought it was obvious that i like you.”

world stop. anton likes me?

“but everytime i try to make a move you put me back in the friendzone, saying things like ‘best friends don’t do that..”

with a sincere expression of sadness that makes your heart hurt, anton glances down at his hands.

“i guess you really don’t like me in that way and i was just stupid to to think that-”

refusing to let anton continue, you take hold of his hand and place it directly over your heart.

“do you feel this?” you whisper.

anton nods unsure.

“my heart beats this fast everytime i‘m with you.”

“is that a good or a bad sign?” anton pulls his hand away and looks questionably at you.

his question makes you laugh. “of course it’s a good sign.. it means that you’re the reason why my heart feels so alive.”

“oh,” anton nods, a little smile forming on his face. “so you do like me.”

now it’s you who’s nodding.

just a while ago you didn’t want anton to know how you really feel about him because you were so afraid that the feeling was one-sided, but now that you know it’s mutual, you’re ready to take the initiative.

you slip closer to anton and sit down on his lap. first he’s surprised at your sudden move, but then you feel his arms around your waist, holding you close to him.

seconds later, your lips meet his. not only was your heart racing faster than before, but because your bodies were so close, you could literally feel anton‘s heart racing as well.

you weren't expecting it, but as anton plastered kisses all over your face and neck, things heated up quickly. you didn't want him to stop, but knowing that your parents could walk into your room at any point made you want to go slowly.

“maybe we should continue this when we are alone, like completely,” you whisper as anton was kissing your neck.

“hmmm,” kiss. “maybe..” kiss. “you‘re..” kiss. “right.”

he stops, looking at you with the biggest smile on his face.

“this big smile looks good on you,” you put your arms around antons neck.

“and you know why i’m smiling like this? it’s because of you,” anton softly whispers before he plants another kiss on your lips.

#riize #riize imagines #riize fics #kpop #riize scenarios #riize drabbles #riize x reader #riize fluff #riize anton #anton lee #lee chanyoung #anton x reader #anton fluff #boyfriend anton #riize oneshots #riize short story #x reader #anton scenarios #sumi‘s requests ೀ

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norrisleclercf1 · 2 months

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I’ve just seen a reel on ig with a first look but with the dad of the bride and thought about girl dad Lando doing this. He’d cry so much because how can his little girl be all grown up when it feels like just yesterday he was rolling on 3 hours of sleep because she was crying a lot when she was a baby. I can imagine him being like “God no I can’t do this” and hugging his girl so tight whispering how beautiful she looks and how proud he is

A/N: This has sat in my inbox for so long and I apologize for that baby

"Nope, nope can't do this," He whispers tapping his foot as he stands at the bottom of the stairs waiting for his little girl to come down. "Sweetie, it's going to be okay," You whisper to your husband. "Nope, mhm, this is my little girl. She's getting married," Lando takes a deep breath trying to compose himself.

"Awww," You move and hug him knowing he's trying hard to stop himself from crying. "Don't, I just keep thinking about how she was just born and I was holding her to my chest. How, she'd have nightmares and she would scream for me to comfort her, I'd be the one she called first when she did something great, Y/n, that's my little girl and I'm..." Lando turn and takes a deep breath.

"Ughh, I can't cry just yet, dammit." Lando turns back around and see the photographer run down the stairs and motions for Lando to get into position. "Nope, going to cry," He whispers and kisses you quickly before you move out of the way.

Walking down the stairs you see your daughter, Madaline, wearing your old wedding dress, the recognition clear as Lando opens his mouth and looks at you. You laugh and cover your mouth as Lando closes his eyes and lets the tears fall. "Oh, my baby, you look," Lando can't finish his sentence as Madaline fans her face and runs to her father.

"Oh dad, don't say it, I'll sob," Lando nods and pulls her into his arms, closing his eyes. He knew this day would come, but still in his mind, Madaline was a newborn and he was fighting those long nights and being away from you and your daughter. "You are still my little girl, no guy will ever be perfect for you," Lando whispers which gets a giggle out Madaline.

"Dad, he's my prince charming, just like you were for Mom." Lando makes a noise and rolls his eyes as he wipes away his daughters tears. "Still doesn't make up for the fact you're marrying a Sainz." You laugh as does Madaline who leans into her father's hold. "I'll always be your daughter dad, besides, I need you to walk me down the aisle." Lando makes a loud noise in the back of his throat and takes a deep breath.

"Y/n, I hope you brought those tissues," You smile and open your clutch and wave them as Lando sighs and kisses Madaline's cheek. "God I hate that I'm about to say this but, let's go get you married."

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ohcaptains · 1 year

Text

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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cloudcountry · 11 months

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1.5K FOLLOWER CELEBRATION

SUMMARY: The Octatrio takes you to the ocean, where you explore a shipwreck with them!!

WARNINGS: Jade & Floyd being slightly threatening? They imply that they'll drown you lol sillies.

COMMENTS: i had this in the works for like a week and i really like how it turned out!! (i'm especially fond of the floyd parts hehe) THERES ALSO SOME DEUCE CONTENT BC I COULDNT HELP MYSELF but thats only in the beginning wahhwawah ANYWAYS i hope ygys like this one!!!!!!!! im excited to hear what you all think!!!!!!!!

You slowly unfasten your arms from around Deuce’s waist as the blastcycle skids to a stop. Vehicles in Twisted Wonderland are still incredibly hard to get used to, even though you’ve been here for longer than you want to think about.

“Thanks for the ride.” you lean back, swinging your legs over the side with a smile, “I appreciate it.”

“Ah…no problem.” Deuce replies, eyes darting from the seemingly empty shoreline to you, “Just…if anything happens, call me. Okay?”

You sigh, touched by his concern. Lifting your hand, you extend your pinkie to him. He wraps his pinkie around yours, and when you whisper that you promise, he nods and lets you go.

“Thank you,” Deuce whispers.

It’s nice having people who want to protect you.

He drives off and you wave, even though his back is turned to you and it wouldn’t be safe for him to wave back. Once the roaring engine has faded completely, you turn your attention to the beach. There’s a set of wooden stairs leading down to the bay, and you take them down. The sand feels warm and inviting, and you kick your shoes off without a second thought. It’s odd, your three companions should be here by now, but you don’t question it too much. Those three do what they want when they want to, and there’s no telling what they decided to do today.

You spend a few minutes swiping at the sand, collecting a small pile of pretty shells. It’s a modest collection, nothing to write home about, but the childish act alone fills you with a glee you haven’t felt in quite a long time.

Perhaps Azul was right. A trip to the sea really might be all you need.

“Hello, angelfish.” a familiar voice croons from behind you.

You turn and barely manage to contain your surprise when you see Azul in casual shorts and a shirt. Although it’s plenty warm outside, the mental image you have of him always wears a suit. It’s a nice change.

“Hello, Azul.” you smile, and take the hand he extends to you.

A kiss that burns hotter than the sun is pressed to the back of your hand. Your arms fall back to your side far too soon.

“I do hope you’ll enjoy this little trip I’ve planned.” he muses, turning his attention to the water, “There’s a shipwreck a little ways from here that Floyd and Jade wanted to explore, you see. Bad things happen when I don’t indulge those two.”

Something tells you that you are also part of that indulgence.

“Where are they?” you ask, scanning the wide expanse of golden sand, “I didn’t see them when I arrived.”

“Ah…” Azul winces and shakes his head, pointing a single finger toward the water.

You turn just in time to see two pairs of glowing eyes peeking up from the water. They’re gone in an instant, and if it wasn’t for Azul’s uneasiness you would have thought you imagined it.

“They’re very sneaky, aren’t they?” you murmur.

Azul nods.

You shake your head, mimicking Azul’s earlier actions. Except you decide to take the route the three of them probably wouldn’t expect.

And so you start walking towards the water.

Azul sucks in air through his teeth and grabs your arm as if warning you not to go.

“It’ll be fine.” you turn back to him and pat his hand, offering him the most reassuring smile you can manage, “If Floyd gets a little too rambunctious and forgets that I can’t breathe underwater, I’ll have you to stop them.”

Azul hesitates but lets you go. He does follow you though, which is rather endearing.

It’s nice having people who want to protect you.

Once you reach the water, you start to sink into the sand. You keep walking until it’s reached your knees. There isn’t any sign of them, but you’re sure Floyd will ambush you sooner or later. You start moving again, eventually wading into the deeper part of the shoreline. Azul watches you apprehensively.

Something brushes your foot.

You can’t help but jerk, but the ticklish sensation makes you laugh.

Someone pinches your thigh, and you swat at them.

There’s a swarm of bubbles that surrounds you, and for a second you swear you can see a tail flick out of the water before a giant merman jumps out of the water and body slams you into the waves.

“Shrimpy!” Floyd cheers, squashing your faces together and splashing salt water everywhere.

“Hi, Floyd.” you giggle as he digs his webbed fingers into your sides.

“My my. No greeting for me?” Jade pouts, resting his chin on your other shoulder, “You’re so heartless, Pearl.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance!” you laugh, running your fingers through their hair, “Hello, Jade. I’m very happy to see the two of you.”

“Will you two be more gentle with them!?” Azul hollers, a sour look on his face, “They haven’t taken the potion yet, so you should be cautious!”

Floyd sinks into the water and blows annoyed bubbles. Jade just smiles serenely, making no move to leave your side. Azul groans loudly, exasperated.

“Azul, it’s okay.” you call, slowly making your way towards the shoreline with two mermen in tow, “If I didn’t want them here, I wouldn’t have come into the water.”

“Well, there you have it.” Jade smiles triumphantly, wrapping his tail around your leg, “The Little Pearl doesn’t mind one bit, do they Floyd?”

“Yeah, Jade. They don’t mind at all.” Floyd grins menacingly, wrapping his tail around your other leg.

“Guys, I need those.” you remind them gently, and they begrudgingly let you go.

It’s funny how they listen to you and not the man they call boss (who is still fuming on the shoreline.)

You clamber out of the water with the grace of a crab as Jade and Floyd continue to pinch at your legs. You’re only safe when Azul catches you in his arms, lips pursed and hair tousled from the wind.

“What’s this potion I’m supposed to take?” you ask, paying no mind to the splash of water that hits you in the shins.

“Ah. It’s a water breathing potion.” Azul hums, clearly proud of himself, “I brewed it myself, so rest assured, it will work. The potion allows you to breathe and see underwater with minimal difficulty. Your payment for the potion will be assisting us in collecting artifacts and such from the shipwreck I mentioned previously.”

You have a feeling that all that meant was your payment is spending time with us.

You suppose they are rather lonely, with their reputations and all. Azul especially, with that sensitive heart of his.

“Okay,” you say softly, following him as he leads you to a neat row of duffel bags. He leans down and unzips the one with a cute little octopus charm and produces a purple glass bottle. The cork is shaped like a clam shell, and you marvel at how pretty of a bottle it is for only a few seconds before you look at Azul.

The sea is dangerous, you remind yourself. But these three will protect you.

“Now, I will not be joining you.” Azul declares, taking out a book from the same duffel bag, “So you may go with Jade and Floyd.”

He plops down in the sand, opens the book, and ends the conversation.

What?

You must have stood there for far too long because Azul looks up at you over the rim of his glasses as if you’re the one doing something weird.

“Come on Azul!” Floyd yells from the sea, “Shrimpy doesn’t care!”

“Indeed. And you were so excited about this trip, too. I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t want to come.” Jade sighs, shaking his head in disappointment, “There’s nothing to be done about it, I suppose. It looks like we’ll be getting the pretty little pearl all to ourselves, won’t we, Floyd?”

“Oooh, yeah!” Floyd beams, tongue flicking out between his sharp teeth, “All to ourselves, Jade.”

You see Azul’s eyebrow twitch.

Floyd groans, seemingly annoyed at Azul’s lack of reaction, and shifts his targeted jeers to you.

“Shrimpy! I can tell you why Azul doesn’t want to go!” Floyd yells, flailing his arms around, “He doesn’t want you to see his merform! He’s super squishy and slow!”

“Now, now. That’s rude, Floyd.” Jade chastises his brother, but his smile lets you know that he’s getting a kick out of this too.

“Well, that’s a good thing, right?” you turn back to look at Azul and kneel next to him, “I won’t be a fast swimmer either, Azul. Not as fast as Jade or Floyd. It’d be nice to hang back with someone.”

Azul says nothing.

You block out Floyd’s jeering and focus on him.

“Hey.” you whisper, “If you want to come along, you can. Don’t let me stop you. I promise I won’t judge how you look, hell I won’t even look at you if you don’t want me to. But I’d really like it if you came—”

“That is out of the question.” Azul says curtly, pushing his glasses up his nose.

You hesitate, debating if leaving him here would make him more comfortable.

Except you know Azul. And you know if he doesn’t join you three on this trip, he’ll regret it.

“Listen, Azul.” you murmur, keeping your tone gentle and firm, “I want to go with you. It won’t be the same without you. So if you want to come, you should. I don’t want to leave without you.”

Azul hesitates, and you know you’re getting through to him.

“So come on!” you place a hand on his shoulder and smile reassuringly, “It wouldn’t be fun without you. Who else is going to teach me about all the different coins you can find?”

“Gahh, fine!” Azul snaps his book shut and tucks it back into his duffel bag, hands shaking, “You run a hard bargain, my dear.”

You laugh, and your heart feels light. You lead Azul to the water and turn away as he prepares to transform. You hear a soft splash and you pop the cork off the pretty glass bottle. Tipping it back, the contents spill past your lips and down your throat. Not wanting to be messy, You place the cork back on and put the bottle on a nearby rock. A slimy hand reaches for you, and you turn to see Jade smiling up at you. Floyd is a little ways away, bouncing around in the water like he can’t wait for you to enter.

Azul is nowhere to be seen, but that’s okay. You can only hope he’ll feel more comfortable as the trip goes on.

”Come on, Shrimpy!” Floyd yells, and that's all the encouragement you need to take Jade's hands and let him drag you into the water.

And he coaxes you into the smooth waves, just like a siren. His eyes certainly glow like he’s hypnotizing you, but you’re certain his beauty is enough to have the same effect.

Once your head is submerged, you open your eyes. Instead of the sharp pain you expect to feel from opening your eyes in the salty water, you’re able to see clearly. Jade’s still holding your hand as he drags you deeper, tail swishing as he darts around coral. You try your best to follow him as you cut through the water, and you know if it wasn’t for the care he puts into making sure you’re not getting scraped on the rough outcrops of coral, you surely would have been injured already.

Floyd swims down from up above and snatches you from his brother in the blink of an eye. You’re pressed into a slick, pale chest as Floyd bears his teeth playfully, swimming farther up.

“No fair, hogging Shrimpy all to yourself.” Floyd grumbles, clutching you against him like a prized catch.

“Now, now. No need to get aggressive.” Jade hums, swimming up to meet Floyd, “They were very much enjoying themselves with me, weren’t you?”

You’re saved from the growing conflict between the brothers by Azul, who pokes his head out from a small cavern in the coral.

“Our goal is to get to the shipwreck, not mess around.” Azul chastises him, and you marvel at the parts of him you can see (which just so happens to be his face and the upper part of his chest.)

He really is beautiful.

“Yes, boss.” Floyd smiles lazily, flicking his tail at him before swimming off with you in tow.

Jade smiles but says nothing as he follows after his brother, who decides to take a small detour. He spins you around a coral spire as if he’s dancing, holding your hands as you spin. His grin is toothy and wide, and his laughter rings clear even in the water, eyes shimmering as if reflecting the sun. He twirls you around like a dancer, and the water fans around you like a costume. It makes you feel like a performer, gorgeous and renowned, and you find yourself grateful for Floyd’s adventurous spirit.

“You see that, Shrimpy?” Floyd giggles, halting mid-dance to swim closer to the coral reef, “It’s you!”

You swim a bit closer, using Floyd’s hand as an anchor to keep yourself close to him. There’s a small shrimpy fluttering through the crevices, skittering across the coral-like an underwater insect.

“Do I really look like that to you?” you tease, shooting Floyd a doubtful look.

“Sure ya do! You’re tiny and you scitter around and you’d probably taste really yummy.” he teases.

He bites just beside your ear and you swat at him. Floyd laughs and swims circles around you, jabbing you with his hands and poking you with his tail. He’s more touchy than usual, you think, and it makes you want to hold him too.

The next time he circles you, you latch onto his tail. Floyd shrieks and flings his you through the water, shooting you towards the coral reef with his pure strength.

“Only shrimps this tall get to ride for free!” He holds his hand up just a few centimeters taller than you and sticks his tongue out.

“Only eels this tall get to receive hugs from shrimpies.” you say, holding your hand just a bit higher than him.

Floyd swims upward and bonks into your hand, looking very proud of himself. You hug him as he takes you the rest of the way to the shipwreck.

It’s a towering thing, made almost entirely of wood. There’s a gaping hole in one of the sides, and you assume that’s how it sank. Floyd giggles and you realize your mouth is gaping in shock. You slam it shut, embarrassed.

Jade and Azul are already examining items they found in the sand, Jade swishing around in the open water while Azul hides most of his body in another crevice. There’s a small treasure chest by Jade’s tail, full of coins and what looks like paper—?

You’ll have to ask them about that.

“It certainly took you long enough.” Jade chuckles.

Azul acknowledges you two with a curt nod as he sorts through coins that look older than Trein. He’s far too deep in his element to engage in pleasantries, you think.

“Floyd, I found some well preserved musical records.” Azul says mildly, handing Floyd a book that seems completely dry without sparing him a glance.

Floyd positively lights up and tears the book out of Azul’s hands, flipping through the pages that are indeed dry.

“Old merfolk spells.” Jade explains, smiling at your surprised expression, “We find paper books fascinating, you see. If the pages are protected by leather and metals they last underwater for quite a bit of time. We had to preserve them somehow.”

“That is fascinating.” you breathe, and Jade chuckles.

He grabs your hand and you turn to him questioningly. He gestures towards the large ship, towering over your little group. You gape at the structure again, and Jade laughs at your facial expression. The hole in the side of the ship looks just big enough for someone to enter it, and you find yourself wondering how it got there again.

Now that you think about it, the hole could have been made after the ship sank.

“Shall we?’ Jade murmurs, pressing a guiding hand to your lower back.

You let him lead you into the shipwreck, but he doesn’t allow you to enter until he’s checked the floor you’re on thoroughly.

“It’s all clear, my pearl.” he offers you his hand again, and you take it.

The second you’re inside, you break free from Jade’s grasp and swim around the room. There’s a collection of silverware in a rickety old cabinet. There’s an old chest that’s cracked open, and you can see scraps of paper peeking out from their age-old prison, suspended in the water. There’s an armchair with an intricately woven cushion, one of its armrests broken off.

Jade watches as you dart around the room, silently following you as you glance from item to item. You know he must think it’s amusing that you can be so enraptured by your own kind. He can’t blame you, though. Humans have always fascinated him, and you’re well aware he’s aware of you indulging him on many occasions.

Many people would be frightened if Jade Leech examined them so closely. You are not one of those people.

“Jade.” you whisper, swimming over to him with curiosity in your eyes, “Is this an old terrarium?”

Oh, you can tell that piques his interest. You point to a dark corner of the ship to a small table and a tiny, house-like structure. It’s made of some type of fibrous material, and two glass panes extend diagonally from the rectangular base. Jade swims over, gently taking the structure in his hands and peeking inside. His sharpened teeth glint in the slivers of sunlight as he beams, cradling the discovery as though it was worth more than all the gold Azul was sorting outside.

“Yes, it is.” he murmurs, voice soft as he coaxes you forward, “Humans didn’t care so much about how pretty terrariums were as long as they were functional. I’ve heard many merpeople talk about how boring these terrariums in particular are as a result of their lack of stained glass, but I can’t help but find this style charming.”

“Sometimes being functional is better.” you agree.

Jade gazes upon you with a softness he does not normally display. It makes your heart take a little tumble in your chest.

Jade opts to take the terrarium with him, and the two of you bounce ideas of what to put in the container back and forth. At one point you bring up taking some coral and sea floor rocks for decor, and Jade perks up like you’ve just reinvented the world of terrariums.

“I’ve been so fascinated by your world that I forgot about the beauties of mine.” he murmurs, lifting a silver knife to examine it, “Say, what do you think about using this knife as a plant marker?”

“You could carve the name of the plant in the handle.” you muse, and Jade nods with a wide smile.

“You have a fascinating mind.” he places a hand on your head, scratching gently at your scalp, “It makes me want to explore you, too.”

You feel your face grow warm in the chilly water.

With your suggestion in mind, Jade begins collecting the various plates and silverware he can find, debating how he can use each bit of his treasures. You watch him for a while as he darts around, storing the items you used every day in his terrarium as though it was a precious treasure chest.

“Isn’t there a story about how the mermaid princess believed that a fork was a comb?” you ask as he picks up a golden fork, “I think Floyd told me that one.”

“So he does pay attention.” Jade chuckles, turning his gaze to you, “Yes, indeed. She was so excited upon seeing one at the prince’s dinner table that she snatched it right up and began vigorously brushing her hair. As you can imagine, the prince was very confused.”

“That would have hurt her scalp pretty bad.” you murmur, furrowing your brow, “But she had the right idea, I suppose.”

Jade laughs, and you feel proud that you were the cause.

“Jaaaade!” Floyd pokes his head in and beams when he sees you, “Have you gone down to the bottom floor yet? Azul says there's a lot of fun stuff down there.”

“I haven’t.” Jade says mildly, “We’ve been having a grand time up here, you see. I daresay I got a bit distracted.”

Floyd sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry, but with the unparalleled length of his tongue, it looks incredibly odd. You barely manage to stifle a laugh, and Floyd beams as though he’s just won a prize.

“C’mon, Shrimpy!” Floyd cackles, darting forward and snatching you up into his arms, “Let’s go explore!”

You’re surprised when Jade follows the two of you down to the deeper levels of the shipwreck. You expected him to continue perusing the selection of silverware, but instead he clutches his terrarium in his arms and swims after you and his brothers. Floyd’s chattering away about how you aren’t going to believe what’s on the lower deck and how it’d shock your poor shrimpy heart to death if you were alone. He giggles and wraps himself around you, covering your eyes as he leads you into an open space.

“Look, Shrimpy.” Floyd murmurs right next to your ear, peeling his hands away from your face, “Look at all those weapons.”

Floyd’s not wrong, this would be a rather creepy sight if you were alone. There are two long rows of cannons, each one covered in seaweed and coated in a strange green film. The seaweed reaches out for you in the water, almost as if they’re composed of dead souls that yearn for vengeance. Jade swims out into the room and swats away the seaweed as it clings to his tail. Floyd leads you after his brother and giggles when you shy away from the plant, hating the way it feels against your skin.

“Shying away from a little seaweed, Shrimpy?” Floyd hisses, playfully swatting at the tendrils that reach out to you, “Don’t worry about it. You’ll be fine.”

You’re relieved when you reach the end of the hallway.

Jade carefully examines a wad of mud that bulges from the opening of a nearby cannon, sediments peeking out from the sludge. Floyd busies himself with darting up and down the aisle, laughing and flipping around in the water. You let him drag him with you, and slowly get used to the texture of the rough seaweed clinging to your legs. Floyd twirls you dramatically and dips you, proclaiming loudly that dancers always do this in those silly little human movies, taking the opportunity to snap at your ear again.

He seems amused when you still don’t flinch.

“Floyd, don’t tease them.” Jade calls, a devious grin on his face, “We wouldn’t want them getting cold feet now.”

“I dunno, Jade. I think their feet are already pretty cold.” Floyd giggles, poking the bottom of your foot with the edge of his tail, “Cold as ice.”

Your toes flex at the ticklish sensations. They certainly do like finding all your weak spots, don’t they?

“We should warm them up, don’t you think?” Jade quips, tilting his head innocently.

“Maybe we shouuuuuld.” Floyd hisses, running his claws down the length of your arm.

They must see how your face twitches because they laugh and close in on you. What teases they are, whispering things to you like that. Just when it seems like they’re going to give you one of their famous squeezes, they stop.

“C’mon, Shrimpy. Let’s get you back up to the surface.” Floyd snatches up your wrist and yanks you so hard you’re certain he almost popped your arm from its socket.

Jade grabs your other hand, much more gently, and curls his fingers through the gaps in yours. You let them pull you upwards, powerful tails cutting through the water and they propel you up and out of the structure. Azul is nowhere to be found, and you must look confused at his absence because Jade squeezes your hand. You turn to him and he offers you a calm smile.

“Don’t worry, Azul is back on land. He’s had his fill of being seen for today.”

He doesn’t want you to see him in that form more than you already have.

“That’s okay.” you murmur, “He’s done more than enough already. I’m proud of him.”

“I’m certain he’ll appreciate the understanding.” Jade smiles his closed-eyed smile and nods.

The trip back is full of the same coral reefs, the same tails twining between your legs and curling around your waist, the same laughter from Floyd and quips from Jade. There’s a bittersweet feeling that wells up in your chest as you reach the shoreline again, knowing you likely won’t be back here for quite a while. Despite the rumors that the students of NRC spun about the Leech brothers, they weren’t nearly as dastardly as they usually were. You wonder if it has something to do with the joy of exploring a ship, of being in their element, of being able to talk about things they like.

“If you two want to talk about the things you like, I’d be happy to listen.” you say.

The Leech brothers share a look, one that seems as though they’re communicating without words. They turn back to you and smile, Jade’s grin is far less toothy than Floyd’s but just as happy.

“Keep talking like that and we’ll have to drag you down into the depths and keep you to ourselves.” Jade murmurs, eyes flashing, “Won’t we, Floyd?”

“Ohhh, yeah.” Floyd giggles, “Jade’s right. Who knows what’ll happen, hmm?”

Nevermind.

You laugh and shake your head, to which Jade chuckles.

Your head bursts from the water and you stumble onto the warm sand, where you see Azul sitting in front of three treasure chests. His brow is furrowed as he hunches over the coins, sorting them by year. You decide to sit beside him as the Leech brothers continue to swim. At some point, you hear Floyd slam his entire body into the water, and shriek as Jade slams into the water and pushes an even bigger wave back at him.

“Did you have fun today?” you whisper to Azul.

“I did, yes. I haven’t gotten the chance to explore a shipwreck since enrolling in NRC.” he pushes his glasses up his nose, and they make a soft clicking noise, “I found many more coins for my collection. I’m pleased.”

“I’m glad.” you say, and you don’t say anything else because there’s no need.

You do, however, find yourself splashing back into the water when Floyd calls your name a little while later.

You’re glad you came.

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woso-dreamzzz · 5 months

Text

Hurt II

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Sam feels terrible

Sam hides away for two days after you fall.

She's watched the video so many times now that it's imprinted on her eyelids when she closes them. It's horrifying to look at, you slipping down the stairs, your head hitting each one of them until you're sprawled out by Emma and Jessie's feet at the very bottom.

It's been radio silent from Magda and Pernille and everyone knows better to ask if they're going to be training next week. Emma's already given them enough paid leave to stay at home with you until you're fully recovered.

Eventually, after days of silence, someone on the team must have called Kristie because Sam gets a phone call that essentially tells her to get up off her ass and go to Magda and Pernille's house to either apologise again or beg for forgiveness.

Thoughts swirl in her mind as she approaches the house. The thought at the very forefront is if Magda will ever leave you alone with her again.

You've got an infectious energy that she loves and seeing your broken little body at the bottom of the stairs was traumatising.

Her hands shakily reach up to the door knocker, a cardboard box tucked under her arm as she waits.

It swings open within the minute and Sam feels glad that it's Pernille and not Magda that answered.

"Sam?" Pernille looks confused. "Has something happened?"

"Er...No...I mean, no? Well, I hope not." Sam knows she's rambling now but she can't stop herself, feeling so uncharacteristically nervous that she almost cries.

Pernille seems to notice as well because she stops blocking the hallway. "Do you want to come in?"

Sam toes her shoes off in the doorway and peers inside properly.

The first thing she notices is the way that every sharp corner in the house is covered in either soft fabric or bubble wrap. The second thing she notices is Magda, sitting on the floor with you held possessively between her legs. The third thing, of course, is you. You've got a big bandage stuck to your forehead and your every movement is a little slow and sluggish.

All of your hard plastic toys are packed away in the corner of the room. The only ones you're touching are the soft ones that you couldn't injure yourself with even on accident.

The tension between Sam and Magda feels frosty and Sam tries not to feel the anxiety drop in her stomach when Magda holds you a little tighter when she notices Sam standing there.

Having Magda as her Captain is good most of the time. Magda can be firm sometimes but still fair. She rarely gets angry enough that it impedes her professionalism but the one exception is always you.

Sam can understand. It's a different situation to her and Kristie but there are still parallels. Magda spent so many of your first few years in London, only seeing you on long weekends or through a phone screen. Sam can only really do the same with Kristie and she already knows that anger that swells in her chest when she sees Kristie injured on the pitch.

She can only imagine that those feelings are amplified when it's you, Magda's only daughter, lying bloody and broken in the stadium.

"What's in the box, Sam?" Pernille asks, also noting the tension and refusing to comment on it.

"Oh...er...For y/n," She replies awkwardly.

Sam sits across from you, not nearly close enough to be in the range of Magda's legs but close enough that even your sluggish nature can keep track of her.

"As an apology."

Magda's eyes narrow but she doesn't say anything.

Sam takes it as an invitation, opening up the flaps of the book and pulling out the toys she had gathered. She hadn't been too sure what to get for a kid recovering from a head injury so had Kristie on facetime while she shopped.

She must at least get something right because you seem interested when she pulls out more stuffed animals for your collection. There's an emu just for the fun of it and some kangaroos too but you're especially interested in the koala bear that's right at the bottom.

You stand on shaky feet (shakier than Sam's ever seen you) and try to wander over. You can't though because Magda catches you by the waist and holds you close.

"Magda," Pernille says, her voice low in warning.

Magda relents with a huff and lets you go towards Sam. You make it two steps before you've seemingly exhausted yourself and crawl over.

Up close, your bandage looks even worse and Sam's sure that she can just about make out the bruise poking out from under it. She almost shudders in disgust at herself but with Magda looking like she's a second away from snapping you into her arms again, Sam doesn't.

"It's a koala," She says instead.

You blink up at her, crinkle in your brow as you try to translate her words. It's slower than usual and Sam knows that this concussion must be really bad. You're somewhat of a language prodigy, picking everything up like a sponge.

"Koala," You echo, brushing a finger over the little Steve Irwin-esque hat the toy is wearing," Koala."

"Yeah, koala."

Sam digs around in the box again, bringing out a soft blanket and pillow she had eyed up when she went shopping a few weeks ago.

"This is for you too."

You take it slowly before rubbing the blanket over your face.

Sam looks to Magda and Pernille - who has curled herself into Magda's side and is holding one of her hands.

"I...Er...I read somewhere that kids with concussions get tired a lot."

"That's very thoughtful, Sam," Pernille praises before elbowing Magda in the gut," Isn't that right, Magda?"

"Yeah," Magda grunts," It is."

It's very clear that she's still very annoyed at Sam for what's happened but isn't willing to say anything with you in the room.

You stand up on your shaky feet again, clutching the blanket in one hand and the koala in the other. You stumble forward and Sam watches as both of your mothers surge forward.

Pernille gets there first, pulling you securely into her body and tucking your face into her neck. "Okay, okay, princesse," She says quietly as you fidget and whine," We're gonna stay right here for a moment, alright? No walking."

You struggle weakly against her hold before sagging as a wave of exhaustion comes over you.

Sam watches as Pernille settles fully on the floor, wrapping you up tightly in the blanket as you lay on her. You're still holding the koala, rubbing it over your cheeks and letting out happy little giggles at the soft feeling.

At Sam's staring, Pernille explains," She's been exhausted lately...because of the concussion. She doesn't have the energy to do a lot of the things she likes to."

Sam gnaws at her cheek, flashing back to how disorientated and confused you were when you first got hurt. "Her walking-"

"She's getting better," Magda cuts her off, still glaring," She's doing fine. She's good. She's recovering. There's nothing more to say."

Her tone is firm and makes it clear she doesn't want to talk about your symptoms. Pernille lays a hand on her shoulder and Magda settles for a moment before pulling you into her arms. You end up in the same position you were in when Sam arrived, sitting between Magda's legs and leaning back comfortably against her.

"Koala," You say again, slowly like you're sounding out the letters," Koala."

"Ja," Magda says," Koala."

"Koala."

You stare at it for a moment before sighing a great big huff and pulling the blanket over your head.

"Nap time," Pernille says quietly. She takes you back from Magda, keeping your head covered as she moves to lie on the sofa.

You don't fight like you normally do and a lump forms in Sam's chest when Magda stares at her for a moment before indicating that they leave the room.

They end up in the hallway, with Magda closing the door so you're impromptu nap won't be interrupted.

"That's my kid," She says finally," My only child."

"I'm-I'm sorry."

"And she got hurt. On your watch. You said that you would get her back to the changing room. I trusted you. Pernille trusted you."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Magda sighs, hands clenched into fists and, for a moment, Sam wonders if she'll swing. "I've watched that video so many times. And..." There's silence for a moment. "And she slipped on a bit of ice. You couldn't have caught her."

Sam freezes in shock. That wasn't what she expected Magda to say. "Wh-What?"

"What I'm saying is...I'm sorry for throwing you against the wall. And I'm sorry for yelling at you like that. It's just...She's my kid and it scared me."

"I..." Sam has to take a moment to collect her thoughts. "I'm sorry too. For everything."

Magda nods. "Thank you, for coming over with the toys. I'm sure when she feels better, she'll thank you properly too."

The thank you from you comes barely half an hour after you've woken up from your nap. Pernille guides you over to Sam, who has been allowed to stay just a bit longer by Magda.

You sit in her lap, your new blanket draped around your shoulders and still clutching your koala. You're unbelievably sluggish and your crinkle is more present on your face than ever before.

Somehow, you've roped Sam into playing with you - though Pernille looks incredibly worried when you try to stand up by yourself and nearly crash into the side of the coffee table.

Your speech is slightly slurred though, lacking your usual fluency as you make your emu peck at your koala. Your head rolls slightly off to the side sometimes, as if you've suddenly realised that it's heavy and you can't hold it up. Sometimes, you even try to brush hair out of your face but tap at your bandage, leaving you to pull away and stare at your open palm in confusion.

You hum as you glance around the room - at the soft corners of your house and the pile of soft, fuzzy things that have accumulated around you.

"Than...Thank you," You manage to get out eventually after several long seconds of nothing," Thank you, Sam, for-for my...for my presents."

It's slow and halting at times and your voice is incredibly quiet but Sam still manages a smile.

"You're welcome, kid. I'm glad you're feeling better."

You smile softly - it's more of a lift of the corner of your mouth than a true smile but Sam takes it. "Not too better," You say, turning yourself so you're pressed against Sam's chest, voice dropping so Magda and Pernille couldn't hear you," 'Cause I get to sleep in the Big Bed when I'm hurt."

Sam chuckles. "Really?"

"Uh-huh. Wanna sleep...sleep in the Big Bed forever."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #sam kerr x reader #sam kerr #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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wineauntie · 4 months

Text

ALWAYS AN ANGEL (never a god) — the hughes brothers x hughes sister!reader

summary: In which, Hughes sister!reader often feels like the black sheep of her family and eventually it all becomes too much for her to keep hidden.

PART TWO HERE

note: This is my first ever imagine on tumblr and the only one I’ve written about the Hughes brothers so please literally any feedback is welcomed with open arms 🙏

warnings: reader is the youngest sister, female reader, use of Y/N, use of nicknames like; honey, Angel and sweetheart, awkward dinner confrontations, reader is often full of doubt with the crippling need to please those around her before herself in this. Reader is also a little jealous of her brothers from time to time.

word count: 3.9k words

One of the most frequent things you've heard over the past few years was praise for your older brothers.

Typically it would go along the lines of; "Oh, Quinn made captain, you must be so proud!", "Jack and Luke are looking incredible lately, you must be so excited for them!", "Your brothers' are killing it right now, you're so lucky to be related to them!"

Most times you didn't feel very lucky.

That sounds rather harsh, upon reflection. The unmovable truth was that you loved your brothers more than life. They were pivotal parts of your making; indestructible forces ready to care for you and protect you through anything, big or small. They were willing to combat anything to ensure that your smile remained on your face at any given time. They were your older brothers and you couldn't even begin to imagine a world in which they didn't exist, in which they didn't tease, mock and love you.

But sometimes, you just wished people could find it within themselves to separate you from them when the time called for it. Another recurrent theme you've noticed over the last couple of years was that any achievement you made, whether it be academic or simply lying elsewhere, had a tendency to be accidentally overshadowed or overlooked by so many people in your life.

Your Mom and Dad tried their hardest to ensure you the importance of your hard work but sometimes, just sometimes, you had a horrible suspicion that perhaps their support was just out of pity. You were different from your family, everyone knew it and you embraced it. You were the only one out of the entire family to not play hockey beyond your childhood and despite being the youngest, you'd watched your older brothers, even Luke, who was only a year senior, falling even more deeply and madly in love with the sport. You, however, had stepped out onto the ice for the first time as a fresh-faced four-year-old and knew almost instantly that it wasn't the sport for you, but you'd never voiced that feeling until you were eleven.

You could remember that day so vividly, the day when you'd let it slip that you didn't want to play anymore. At the time it had been the most terrifying thing you'd ever thought of doing.

EIGHT YEARS AGO

It was dinner time in the Hughes household and all four kids had jolted at the sound of their parents calling them for dinner. Jack had led the pack in a stampede down the stairs, his fourteen-year-old legs bounding forward to win a race only he was participating in. Twelve-year-old Luke had followed suit, racing towards the dining table, not in competition, but in what he would describe as "starvation like that one ad on TV talked about". Quinn, at sixteen, had long decided he was far more responsible than his younger counterparts and walked down the stairs just a little behind the rowdy pair ahead.

You, at eleven, moved much slower than all of your brothers. You'd had a hockey match that morning in which you'd ended up crashing headfirst into the boards. It hadn't hurt, not with the helmet on your head, but it had been the last straw. Tonight was the night. The night you were going to finally tell your parents that hockey wasn't for you. That the sport was enjoyable but only if you were watching from the sidelines.

Your hands were trembling, your teeth biting down hard on your lip, so hard you thought it might burst any second. You couldn't find it within yourself to stop. It soothed the nerves that had begun to build. Your family loved hockey, they breathed it. You wouldn't be surprised if they all ran tactics and strategy in their dreams.

You walked into the dining room with your shoulders hunched and head bowed as you made your way towards your usual seat between Quinn and Luke. If your brothers had noticed your odd behaviour all day, they hadn't voiced it. You kind of wished they would just so it would get the ball rolling.

Dinner was laid out in front of you almost tauntingly. Tonight's dish was pasta, ever so conveniently shaped in the various shapes of a hockey stick, a helmet, and a skate. Your brothers grinned at the shape of the food, whilst your mom and dad laughed in amusement.

"I found them earlier down in the shop," Ellen Hughes beamed, as she looked amongst her children. "Thought they might make dinner interesting!"

"It does, Mom," Jack grinned in approval as he shovelled a forkful of it into his mouth. You had yet to even pick up your utensil, you just stared at your dish in silence.

"Y/N, honey, is your head hurting from earlier?"

Your mom's voice almost made your straight face slip. You lifted your gaze slightly letting it fall on your mother's worried yet comforting eyes. You opened your mouth slightly but words failed you. You resorted to just shaking your head before looking down.

"Why would her head be hurting?" Quinn questioned defensively, as he looked between you and Mom. You hunched your shoulders further into yourself as the attention on you was now a lasting event.

"She hit the boards earlier, head on," Jim Hughes supplied, swallowing his mouthful of food. He had had the day off and jumped to accompany her to the game. "Hard enough too, but the little soldier got right back up."

You hadn't.

You had laid there for a solid fifty-four seconds brimming with brewing hatred.

"You hit the boards?" Luke snorted, his teasing eyes on your small figure. This was regular joking for the family. They would all mess around and laugh about things that went wrong with anyone, it wasn't out of the ordinary, but tonight?

Oh, tonight this teasing was just piling onto your problem.

"Someone tried to take the puck," Your dad continued mindless of the storm generating inside of you. "It clicked almost immediately for her though and she passed the puck perfectly. All she did was just miscalculate the distance between her standing and the board's closeness, and even then she was fantastic."

Your dad's words should've been comforting. Usually, you would burn with bashfulness at the praise. Your brothers snickered at the image they created of you falling into the boards and before you knew it you could barely hear them. All you could hear was white noise whereas all you could see was vibrant and hot red when you looked down at your plate.

"Sweetheart, when's your next game?" Your mom's kind voice broke through the noise, as she picked up some more food with her fork.

"IWANNAQUITHOCKEY!" You suddenly burst out, causing your family to jump at the volume of your words. Your heart was beating frantically, your hands wringing on your lap. You looked guiltily towards your mom and dad with a nervous gulp.

"Wha' dif' fou 'ay?" Luke asked through a mouth full of pasta, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. For you, the heat in the room rose and engulfed you in fiery waves of nerves as you glanced between your brothers and your parents.

"I want to quit hockey..."

PRESENT DAY

You had remembered the silence that had followed. Your parents ahead exchanged a look as they set down their forks and asked you to explain why. Once you'd begun explaining, you'd burst into tears, all of the pent-up stress and years of pushing yourself to fall in love with the sport only to fail came spilling out.

Your parents had jumped into action at your tearful display and granted the boys permission to finish their dinner in front of the TV in the living room. Once they'd left, your parents had sat down on the empty chairs beside you and immediately began to try to calm you with soothing arm and hair strokes and whispers of "c'mon, steady breaths now, you're okay".

You had continued to sob as you explained all of your feelings over the years. You had even admitted in your bleary state that you were scared your parents wouldn't like you anymore because you didn't like hockey. You had remembered the heartbroken look they'd both given you as they doubtlessly reassured you that no matter what you chose to do at any stage in life, they would forever love you. Your mom had cradled you in her arms, whilst your dad had continued to run his hand through your hair as you tried to calm yourself down.

And so, you stopped playing hockey while your brothers only flourished and fell deeper into the depths of adoration for it.

As the years passed your love and knack for academics— notably English and history, encompassed your life and filled you with everything you've ever craved. You threw yourself into your studies, your spare time spent reading books from the library or curled up watching too many David Attenborough nature documentaries for your family's liking.

You thrived in high school managing to maintain a 4.0 GPA. You worked various jobs over the years, from stacking shelves in the local library to making and serving coffee in a cafe near your home. Your mom had once teased that if you hadn't worked and kept out of the house you would've studied yourself to death.

By the time you were a senior, Luke, Jack and Quinn had all been drafted to the NHL and you couldn't have been prouder. You had attended all of their drafts, excitement rolling off of you as you clutched your brothers in such tight hugs they thought they might never breathe quite right again. You were overjoyed that they were able to translate their passion for hockey into the skills needed to succeed and to watch their happiness thrive only made it all the better.

Everything ran so smoothly...that is until people couldn't disassociate you from your brothers. You were thrown into the deep end once all three of your brothers had been picked in the draft. You had been the victim of fake friendships, relationships, and people, in general, trying to be close to you in order to be any inch closer to the famed Hughes boys. Towards the end of high school, their looming presence in almost every conversation agitated you.

It was as if they were the sun, blazing and vital to so many aspects of life. Whereas, you, on the other hand, felt like Pluto in their solar system, small, insignificant and not even important enough to remain a planet.

Nevertheless, you had what you loved within your grasp, it didn't matter what you were in regards to their standings, your talents lay elsewhere and there was no denying it.

You had graduated as Valedictorian with your parents watching proudly in the stands. Quinn had also been there, a pleasant surprise on your half considering he had played a game late the night before. Yet he'd flown home for you, to watch you walk the stage and you had almost giggled in glee. As Luke and Jack on the flip side, had a game the day of your graduation and couldn't miss it. You had reassured them that it was alright (no matter how disappointed and upset it actually made you feel).

After the ceremony, with your diploma in hand, you'd walked towards the stands, your eyes scanning for your parents and brother amongst the buzzing crowds. Conversations swirled with laughter and yelps as students reunited with their families and friends.

"You know that girl–the valedictorian? She's the one whose brothers play for the NHL,"

Your ears had instantaneously perked at the mention, and a heavy, unsettling pit began to form as unease churned in your stomach. You had faltered in your tracks at the words, your ears straining to listen for any other snippets of the conversation.

"Oh, the valedictorian! I thought I saw Quinn Hughes up in the stands, I thought it was my imagination."

Disappointment and what could only be embarrassment had crashed over her as you listened to the conversation continue. They hadn't been able to even remember your name despite it being mentioned more than a few times on the stage, yet of course, they knew your brother, who was one of hundreds in the crowd.

A sudden bout of envy had gripped your heart as you tried to blink away welling tears. This had been your day. Your day. You hadn't worked so hard to be forgotten so easily.

"Angel!" your delighted, yet teary-eyed mom had pushed through the crowd to engulf you in a massive hug. "My baby is all grown up!" You had plastered a smile on your face as you wrapped your arms around her to hold her close.

Your dad was next to be hugged, his big hand had ruffled your hair as he bore a wonky smile and cracked voice whilst telling you how proud he was.

And finally, Quinn had squeezed you to death, his tight grip holding you as he practically spun you around, your feet brushing the floor. You had let a laugh break your moping, as you clutched at your eldest brother's shoulders.

"Your speech was incredible," he mumbled from above you, as your head rested against his shoulder. "I had Luke and Jack on FaceTime the entire time."

You felt your cheeks grow warm as you tried to hide your sheepish smile. As you swivelled your head, however, you had spotted not one but three separate people with phones pointed towards you and your brother. Your smile had instantly dropped and you wiggled in his grip until he'd let go, his eyebrows furrowed as you tried to change the topic of conversation.

And just like that the excitement of the day had dimmed.

You loved your brothers but they would always be gods in everyone's eyes. But you'd only ever amount to an Angel— touched by divinity, loved by so many but never quite good enough and absolutely never equal to the power of gods.

The day of your graduation had only been evidence of such. You'd never be able to escape the shadows of your brothers no matter how hard you worked, no matter how much you yearned to.

That summer, you fell into a slump of sorts. Your usual cheery smiles and bright eyes had been dulled. You weren't outwardly rude or dismissive but you talked less, participated in family activities less, finding excuses left, right and centre to avoid socialising. Your stack of books that usually were reread every summer lay untouched, covered in a very thin layer of dust. Your family had noticed your change as soon as the slump had started.

They just thought it would go away within a week or so.

Mom had spoken to you too many times to count asking if you were alright and if she could help with anything, you'd simply waved your hand and denied that anything was wrong.

Your brothers had tried too.

Luke had tried to get you to play video games with him, play pool, go to the mall with him, yet you conveniently always had other plans to attend to. Jack had tried to get you to come to the country club and play golf with him, or at least sit in a golf cart reading so that he could talk away with you whilst he played and yet, you refused, claiming you weren't feeling well.

Avoiding Quinn had been the most difficult task. As the eldest and you the youngest, he always felt more protective over you than over your wild other brothers. With five years between each other, Quinn was the one you naturally leaned towards during any inconvenience. He'd been the first you'd called when you'd accidentally gotten drunk off of alcohol-spiked juice at seventeen and had panicked when you couldn't find your friends. He'd stayed on call until your mom had arrived and you were safely tucked inside her car. He'd been the one you'd run to when you were little and had nightmares, and he'd let you bury yourself in his bed covers beside him, with mumbled words of comfort as you shook. He'd been the one who'd refused to leave your side when you'd been bedbound with a bad case of the flu when you were nine, reading stories to you and keeping you company in the solitude of sickness.

He'd been the one you'd tried your hardest to not spend time around because you knew that if he went digging into your out-of-character behaviour, you would break and spill everything in seconds.

Since hockey was in the off-season, you'd seen your brothers more often than not. They'd spent the last month in the same house as you and your parents, it was getting harder and harder for you to continually bypass all of their offers to hang out.

A sudden knock on your bedroom door caused your head to snap towards the door where Luke had sheepishly stuck his head in through the door's gap. You shuffled in your spot underneath the blanket you'd surrounded yourself in as you had curled up on your bed, despite the warmth of the outside air.

"Mom said dinner is on the table," he yawned, before pushing your door open for you to follow and disappearing from the door. You stretched out your limbs, placing your book on your bedside table as you unfurled. Your tired eyes blinked slowly whilst you forced your body to trek downstairs.

Everyone's eyes seemed to follow you as you silently entered the room, not that you noticed as you slunk towards your seat and slumped down into the wooden chair with your head down. You stared blankly at the plate before you looked towards your mom and forced a small smile.

"It looks good, Mom, thanks," you nodded towards your mom before looking back at your plate. Your fingers twirled the fork around as you began to eat slowly. Noticing the growth of an uncomfortable silence, you raised your eyes, only to meet your entire family's gaze. "...what?"

"Y/N, angel, we need to talk," your mom began soothingly, glancing towards your dad almost nervously. Your eyebrows furrowed as you placed your fork down, your hands dropping to your lap.

"About...what exactly?"

"Y/N, what's going on with you?" Your dad suddenly asked, causing your mom to carefully nudge him. "You've been distant, and locking yourself up in your room for the summer."

"I haven't been distant," you denied, pushing yourself further back into the comfort of your seat. You could feel your brothers' eyes piercing you from where they sat.

"That's a lie," Jack scoffed as he swallowed a forkful of food. You shot him a blazing look, your eyes narrowed and as sharp as knives.

"You're not yourself, Y/N," Quinn added cautiously, his eyes flitting around your face to try to gauge your emotions. "You've been making excuses all summer not to spend time with any of us. We miss you, Y/N and...we want to help you, you just gotta let us know what's wrong."

You looked down at your hands as you bit down on your lip to suppress the trembling that threatened to wrack through your body. Luke glanced down at his plate before he leaned forward towards you.

"Y/N, we can help you now, we have the time, hockey doesn't start—"

Don't," your voice seemed unfamiliar to even yourself as iciness weaved its way into your words. "Not now."

"What do you mean?" Luke retorted as he scrunched his eyebrows in bewilderment. "All I said was—"

"Everything has to revolve around hockey." You hadn't meant for the dam to burst and release the waves of frustration and upset but there was no stopping the course it was now paving. "It always has been and always probably will. Every dinner conversation starts the same, every text, every call and I understand why...But life isn't all about hockey."

"I don't..." Luke shook his head and looked towards his brothers for support. His softened and baffled voice filled your heart with a tinge of guilt, but your heart wasn't in control of your words, your mind's bitterness was the one with the reins. "I don't get why that's a problem..?"

"Because you don't realise how out of place it puts me." Your eyes burned with the vicious sting of unshed tears as you began to fall and stumble into a panicked ramble. "And I know I've never said anything about it, but do you know how much of a black sheep I feel like? I mean I chose to give up hockey, I chose to focus my mind elsewhere, so it really has nothing to do with you guys; but when it's constant hockey talk?... I have nothing to say. I have nothing to add, and I feel boxed in...I feel wrong, as if I was some faulty add-on you got landed with."

"You are not faulty, Y/N!" Your mom cut in sharply, her eyes now tinged with sadness.

"Two hundred and three," You bypassed your mom's saddened gaze as you focused on your brothers.

“What?" Jack shrivelled his nose as you spoke.

"Two hundred and three games, ceremonies, and hockey-related events I have attended in order to support you." You explain, whilst your eyes darted from brother to brother. "To support all of you and those are only the ones I can remember."

"Y/N, angel…”

Your dad's calming attempt to soothe you permeated your ramble and only filled you with an indescribable rage.

Always "angel".

Always a goddamn angel.

"Six." You continued, your fists clenched so tightly that the bite of your fingernails embedded deep into your palms. "Six times in my life, you three have managed to make it to an event of mine or ceremony. It goes down to two if you only include events, where all three of you were in attendance."

"The truth is no matter how much I convince myself I'm not an outsider, no matter how much I succeed in life and have every glory at my fingertips, it'll never be enough. No matter the circumstances, people will always find a way to undermine my success to boast about yours. How unfair is that?”

The tears, now unstoppable, rolled down your heated cheeks, leaving a wet trail as your family watched and listened to your cracking voice.

"Every big milestone in my life people twisted it to frame you guys in the foreground. All I wanted was to be great– be so great that, for once, people could separate me from a crowd without it being about my brothers. For years, I got the highest grades, worked locally, tutored, volunteered, and yet my only legacy will be that I have three older brothers whom, to everyone else, I will never measure up to."

"So, after years of trying to ignore the truth and deny it, I realised that there's no possible way I'll ever amount to the Hughes name, I'll never be great and I'll never be able to be like you. And it's...it's a terrifying thought to know you were intended for greatness but destined to fail."

Your tears blurred your vision as a heavy stillness settled over the Hughes family dinner table. Another second passed before regret crashed into your very being and settled amongst the chaos. Your hand flew to your mouth once you'd finished talking, the complete reality of what had happened hitting you full force as your body shook in adrenaline.

"I...I'm," Your horrified eyes scanned the table before you jumped to your feet. "I'm sorry...I'm really...the food was really good, Mom, but I'm, uh...not really hungry anymore." And before anyone could protest you scrambled out of the room, leaving your family to watch you flee.

Anyway, let me know what you think…also part 2 might be coming 🙏

#luke hughes x reader #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #jack hughes fluff #hughes!sister #Hughes brothers x reader #nhl x reader #x reader #hughes brothers x y/n #boygenius is iconic and I love them #jack hughes x reader #wineauntie #reader is just a girl fr

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slvttyplum · 4 months

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i want you to imagine choso… tied up with red rope around his chest, around his pecks, around his stomach, around his big thighs, around his legs and around his feet.

dripping in oil and sweat, all of it leaking down to the floor, while he’s in a seat with his ankles tied to the chair.

his rock hard veiny dick out, a cock ring on the bottom and a vibrator lightly touching him.

he’s all needy whimpering around in the chairs tears welling in his eyes with tape around his mouth waiting for you to come back.

his feet planted on the floor with his legs shaking with pleasure and agony, it hurt so bad.

to have his dick almost wrapped up and being teased by an electric device when you weren’t there.

tears spilling out his eyes as he shook and tried to get out the rope with desperation, making him regret his decision of agreeing to this.

“be a good boy and don’t cum, i’ll be back soon.” that’s what you said two hours ago and his rock hard veiny cock is leaking out pre cum.

a lump in his throat only growing bigger as he throws his head back trying to hold in everything, not wanting to disobey you.

“remember, bad boys get punished.” those words echoing in his head as he takes a deep breath through his nose.

tears falling out his eyes from the pain of the vibrator touching his tip bit by bit. he would push closer to it to cum if he could.

his chest rising up and down with rapid speed as he tries to control himself from the urges you told him to control.

his arms tied behind his back aching as he moves around from the intense amount of pain and pleasure releasing inside him.

whimpering under the duck tape, your body and sexy expression coming to his mind every few seconds.

his nipples hard and red as he thinks about you and how you make him feel whenever you please him.

the least he could do is hold in a little bit of cum, it’s not hard, he’s just a little on edge.

he sucks in his stomach, letting out air through his nose squinting his eyes shut, more tears forming in his eyes.

the front door downstairs can be heard opening, his ears perking up like an impatient puppy.

his dick twitching and his tip now fully pressing on the vibrator, the air he’s breathing in through his nose getting shaky.

he quickly sucked back in his stomach and squinted his eyes harder, be patient, patience is a virtue.

you slowly walk up the stairs and down the hall, the door opening and the boyfriends head shooting up.

a smirk plastered on your face and a laugh threatening to erupt from your throat, his red eyes and face, along with his red throbbing dick making you smile.

“looks like someone’s been having fun.” you coo walking closer, leaning down and examining his throbbing cock closer.

lots of pre cum leaking down his shaft and it looks like he’s grown a couple more inches.

you take your finger lightly trailing from the bottom to the top pressing a finger to his twitching tip.

a muffled whimper coming out from beneath the tape.

“mm someone’s worked up, want me to take care of it?” your eyes shooting up to his face, his eyes practically begging you to handle it.

his stomach still sucked in, he couldn’t take any chances.

you smile pressing down on the tip harder, the cum squelching beneath your finger, a quiet amused moan escaping past your lips.

“i was gonna tease you but… you’ve convinced me.”

and with that, that’s how submissive choso came to life.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #x reader #jujutsu choso #choso x you #choso smut #choso x y/n #choso kamo #choso x reader #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso

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coeurify · 5 months

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TIS’ THE DAMN SEASON 1

ELLIE WILLIAMS

𖤐 . ─┈ the holidays linger like a bad perfume. you can run, but only so far. i escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave? ˚* .

pairing: modern!ellie williams x ex!reader. summary: three years after the worst high school graduation you could imagine, you come home for the holidays— and find you can’t run from the past forever. ( series summary!!! ) chapter warnings: the first half is a flashback to high school. underage drinking & smoking (18). slight mommy issues, slight angst. blink and you miss it talks of anxiety. reblogs, likes and conversations about this fic in my inbox are highly encouraged and LOVED!! (plz come talk to me) special thanks to @elliesbelle for proof reading and hyping me up when i was struggling LOL

Your graduation gown was bright red. Not the sort the class before you graduated in, one that danced the soft line between burgundy and crimson. That would have looked beautiful against your skin, complimented the dress you picked out on the very first day of senior year. Your best friend told you it was too early, that you might decide on a different dress later on, but you were quite stubborn. You held the dress on a velvet hanger in the very smallest corner of your wooden closet, olive green and untouched. Gazing at it became a ritual, a fixation that found you stood at your closet any bad day, staring until your eyelashes fluttered closed and you let a soft breath out. Just a while longer until you could wear it.

The graduation gown was bright red and hadn’t gone with the shade of your dress at all. The material scratched against your arms, and fit too snuggly against your shoulders. Each thread felt too small, too constricting as you pulled it over your body. The sewn-on emblem of your school irritated the space on your chest it stuck over, and all you wanted to do was take it off. To be free of it.

Still, you had pushed aside the open suitcase at the bottom of your closet with a lump in your throat and sought out the same olive-colored dress from the start of the year. You had to wear it. You left the suitcase outside of your closet as well.

Nestled on the quiet corner of Church Street, named so for the methodist that sat closely down the avenue, was your childhood home. Faded paint peels from its timeworn white picket fence, revealing spots you picked at as a child— crashed into with your bike when you were ten and split the repainted wood. The wood creaks on the porch outside, which your mother consistently complained about. One of the window panes on the second floor is weathered by the rain.

It’s your bedroom window, and sometimes when you’re bored you would push up the glass, and let in the Wyoming air, trying to make your bedroom feel less suffocatingly small. You would scratch your nail against the dead wood, watch pieces fall to the ground outside, over the small garden of seasonal flowers your parents always tried to tend to, and failed at each year. You do so that day, with your bright red sleeves pushed up as you let the June breeze into your yellow-painted room, picking— prodding at the pieces that hardly hold on before your mother called your name, “Joel and Ellie are here!” her voice carried up the carpeted stairs, echoing with a sense of impatience.

Those names had your ears perked up, hardly feeling the tightness on the shoulder stitches of your graduation gown anymore, and you hurried down the stairs, welcomed by the smell of ripe peaches and freshly cut grass. It’s likely the candles balanced on nearly every corner of the living room your feet carry you near, lit by your mother who leans over yet another she must have gotten from the home goods store three towns away.

A smile pulled at your lips for the first time that day as you took in the two at your door. Joel was wearing a suit— an actual suit, and he had shaved. When you ‘oooh’ and ‘ahhed’ at his get-up, he raised a hand, still tinged with a soft amount of dirt, likely from sneaking to his carpentry job that morning. Ms. Pam’s house, four streets over.

Then you saw her, through the sun-drenched light that came in with the open door. Ellie had a frown on her lips, maybe because her gown was also too small as she pulled it over her body. God, couldn’t that school get anything right?

For once her hair was out of its usual bun, pushed uncomfortably behind her ears. All you wanted to do was rush forward and kiss her rosy cheeks, poke at the freckles on her nose, prominent as ever under the Jackson sun. But you had a little too much shame lodged in your chest to do so.

Your parents had been accepting, as did Joel, when the two of you curled your hands into one another’s in November of your sophomore year, and announced that you and Ellie, your two doors down neighbor, were girlfriends. Accepting as they could have been, at least. It took your mother a while, she’d excused herself from the wooden kitchen table she sat at the day you told her— and took a few weeks before asking you where along the line your childhood friend became more. She asked how innocently kissing the knees Ellie scraped on her skateboard, and Ellie’s fingers scooping into the frosting of the cookies you were making for your eighth-grade bake sale had turned into... this. You just gave her more time to understand.

By Junior year prom, your mother was almost smiling as Ellie hugged you to her chest behind the small camera Joel held outside of their one story soft blue ranch-style home. She pressed a hand to your cheek as Ellie tugged your hand into Dina’s, your shared friend, car and told you to be safe. That was always her way of telling you to have fun.

So you shouldn’t feel ashamed to lean forward and kiss your girlfriend of over two years as you two got ready for graduation, but you still did— just not because of your company.

Ellie didn’t notice the slightly odd feeling radiating off your body as she had launched her converse covered feet over the small welcome mat near the door and into your arms as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Today’s the day!” She’d cried, fern eyes sparkling. You smiled and nodded, though when you parroted, “Today’s the day,” it didn’t mean the same.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

Halfway through the graduation, your feet began to hurt. Not because you were standing too long. No, all 350 of your small-town senior class were given pull-out plastic chairs that sunk into the green grass of your football field, facing the rows of fading grey bleachers that families sat at, folding the pamphlets handed out to fan their sweating faces, a backdrop to the relentless drone of teachers delivering speeches under the sun.

Your feet hurt because your shoes were too small, the heel too tall. You had bought them when you were thirteen and visited New York City. The ankle strap was wearing thin, clamped around your flesh in a way that kept you rolling your ankle over and over. They were the nicest pair of shoes you had, and the only ones that didn’t make you cringe to look at. A shiny black color, with a gold gem on the strap. Surely you could have found any that looked the same at a department store near the Ski resorts at the edge of town, abandoned for the summer season. But then they wouldn’t be special, wouldn’t have been from the bright-lit city on the east coast.

They looked beautiful with your dress.

Ellie tipped her head down to rest on your shoulder, mumbling a soft, “This is soooo boring.”

Her red graduation cal tumbled off, landing on the green blades at your feet with a muted thump. Unaware of the tension, she nuzzled against you. Her cheek brushed softly, oblivious to the subtle stiffness that coursed through you, raising nervous goosebumps beneath the red fabric. You, however, couldn't escape the feeling, your heart gently aching at the touch. With a sigh, you surrendered, melting into her.

Jesse, stationed to Ellie's left, couldn't resist a snicker. His messy black hair peeked from under his cap as he playfully kicked Ellie’s fallen cap forward. Ellie leaned down to grasp before a nosy teacher scolded her for not paying attention. “Hey!” Ellie whisper shouted at her friend, before finally grabbing and fitting the red cap on her head again.

Ellie had decorated her’s with a beautiful hand drawing, black and brown inked sharpies on the red cloth, bleeding gently out on her lines of a moth and leaves, surrounding the blue inked symbol of a college forty minutes away.

You hadn’t decorated yours at all.

“It's almost over,” you console, fingers reaching out of the red fabric sleeve, sliding over the heated plastic of your chair to grasp at Ellie’s hand, squeezing it gently.

It’s almost over.

You smiled as best you could when your name was called, ignoring the tightness of your gown, or how the color of the dress contrasted the bright red. You ignored the pain in your toes as you kept your eyes straight on the podium where your Principal stood, grinning too brightly for someone who never once looked your way in the school— as he handed you your diploma. You put on your best smile as you posed for the hired photographer, but it never reached your eyes.

The smile that did reach your eyes was that of when your best friend walked across the stage. You whooped her name loudly and tried not to let your heel dig into the dirt as you clapped and jumped. “WOO CAT!”

The true smiles, the ones that found your eyes, came out as each of your friends crossed the stage. Your heart swelled to the brink as Dina and Jesse walked, followed by Ellie.

Your eyes fixated on her auburn hair swaying in the soft breeze, clapping so fervently that it stung, your grin stretching from ear to ear. The joy became tangible when Ellie received her diploma, a scratched scream leaving your lips.

Ellie graduated, your Ellie graduated.

Ellie who held your hand so tightly as everyone stood, who glanced at you with that cheeky smile when the microphone scratched during the countdown to throwing your caps.

Ellie who tugged you against her and smashed her lips into yours the moment she heard, “You are now graduates! flip your tassel!”

You do your best to focus on how perfect her smiling lips feel against yours instead of the impending doom filling your stomach.

Dina on your left tugged your cap off your head, throwing it in the air the same moment Jesse did so for Ellie.

You were sure your heart should have bursted through your ribs right then and there, your lips slotted against Ellie’s, giggling so hard against the kiss that you had to suck in a deep breath whenever she gave you a second— forgetting the awful feeling in your gut as Ellie brushed her nose against your own.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” her warm breath heated your cheeks, “We can do whatever we want now, we have all the time in the world.”

Your bursting heart had sunk as quickly as the graduation caps that fell on the ground around you.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

Your parents never really let you go to parties in high school. In fact, they were rather strict, your phone on a table downstairs after 10 pm, doors locked when the sun came down. Rules about where you could go, and when you could go. The sort of rules that just made you sneakier. But graduation was different, no sneaking was required when your father shrugged at the explanation of the after party your class planned. A bonfire for students to throw all of their papers into, cheer, and celebrate around the burning memories of high school.

You left out the part about how it was being held by James Summers, whose parents never questioned why heaps of six packs and half drained liquor was being carted into their backyard.

“Go have fun,” your father sighed, lips around a mug, the smell of black coffee in your nostrils. You never understood why he drank it with dinner. “You're a graduate, celebrate. A lot going on tomorrow, anyway.”

His head nodded toward the sealed envelope on the table, a stamp with a zip code from California.

You swallowed and turned on your heel.

The air was thick when you stepped outside, the sun setting, grass slightly dewy with humidity. You hated how it smelt, how it felt against the tank top you changed into. You kicked rocks under the toe of your shoe, staring up at the hues in the sky, counting each new star that appeared in the darkening colors behind pursed lips until you heard the boom of music behind the metal doors of Jesse’s car.

He had the biggest car of the group, a black SUV from 2010, scratched up on the left side from when he bumped into a pole. You only ever used his car when everyone needed a ride, and seeing as how you had expected the party to go— you definitely should’ve only used one car, the driver agreeing to be the designated sober friend.

A faint whiff of weed lingered on her grey sweatshirt, likely courtesy of Cat, who sat beside her, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. She blinked lazily, black liner smudged down in the corner. “Ellie fought me for that damn seat,” she muttered as her head poked out, “So greedy with you.”

Dina poked her head back from the passenger seat, smoky eyeshadow caught in the yellow color of the overhead light. “If she’s choosing the shittiest seat, let her.”

“Buckle up and let's go!” Jesse declared, hitting the gas hard enough to elicit a yelp from you, your head thudding against the back seat as the door slammed shut.

“Shit Jesse, you’re such a dick,” you whined.

“A dick who’s gonna be sober at the biggest fuckin’ party ever so he can drive you all home.”

All of you groaned because he was right.

The windows were down the whole ride, the music too loud and pouring out into the open wind as they sang along. Your friend’s eyes were closed and heads tipped back, Cat leaned out the window and sang loudly to the 2000s pop song she demanded, Dina laughed loudly and leaned into the back to cheer her on, curly ponytail swishing as her brown eyes crinkled at the corners sweetly.

You just smiled gently, taking in the moment as much as you could. Ignoring how much you hated seeing the same road you did every day outside the window, how you could close your eyes and still list off every patch of land you zipped passed.

Instead, you try to take in what Dina’s laugh sounded like against your eardrums, how it sunk into your heart and squeezed it with a harsh grip. You took in how Cat’s short raven locks whipped against her forehead as she fell back into the car, lips parted and pearly white teeth sparkling.

You took in how Ellie’s eyes flicked around everyone, looking at ease as she slapped her hand against the back of Jesse’s seat to the beat of the song, a strand of reddish hair falling from its place in the hair tie she stole from you. You memorized what her throaty voice sounded like as she sang along in a tune that was not at all like her actual, beautiful, singing tone. One you only heard when the crickets sang outside, pressed against her windowsill as her fingers strummed over the old guitar from Joel’s study, deep into the night when you snuck over and asked for her to play a song. No, this was goofy and loud, a stupid loud bellow from her cracked lips, cut up by laughs and gasps after every few words. You made sure to commit to your Ellie-labeled folder of memories how she turned to you, nose crinkled as she urged you to sing along, shoulder bumping into yours.

You wanted to remember it all.

You knew this may be one of the last times you saw them all together, at least this happy— this excited for what came next.

“Guys,” you call suddenly, a rush of emotion forcing the word off your tongue and right to your feet as you realize what you’d done, three heads turning your way as Jesse lowers the radio.

Tell them. Tell them.

“I just, I really love you.”

What a pussy.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

The setting for your final party was a tightly packed backyard with no fence near the woods. Clusters of seniors and underclassmen that snuck in filtered across the cobblestone near the glass door of the basement and all the way into the green leaved trees. Small fold-out tables held jungle juice, as bright red with cranberry juice as your gowns had been, and half empty and scattered beer cans. People whooped and hollered, they threw down graduate caps and little posters with your classes graduating year in the form of all different kinds of party favors.

In the middle of the backyard sat a large rock pit, filled with cut chunks of wood and smaller, sadder branches that drunk senior boys likely raced around the woods to find and throw into the fire. heaps of papers sat at the side, collections of every paper assignment from the groups of students.

Everyone at the party agreed to throw in and burn the papers at midnight, signifying the first day of summer and the end of your last day of high school.

By 11:30, all of your friends but you and Jesse were drunk. You were tipsy, enough to make your head light and your limbs heavy— tight heart a little less tethered in your chest as your back settled against a tree, curling your legs to your knees, tucking your chin on the soft skin there, eyes lidded as you watched your friends pass around a half gone blunt.

You should tell them.

“D’ya think we’ll like— be friends forever and stuff?” Dina questioned as her fingers brushed against yours, your pointer and thumb pressing gently against the blunt and bringing it to your lips, not answering.

“Don’t ask that type of shit,” Cat chastised, shaking her head. “So cheesy.”

“Of course we will,” Ellie muttered quickly, scooting closer to you on the rock you were seated on, taking the burning blunt after you.

You felt a little too sick for more than one hit, tilting your knees away from Ellie’s arms that sought affection.

Her eyes caught on you just for a brief moment, a soft look of barely there confusion before being interrupted by Jesse’s kick on her shin, “Blunt.”

You let yourself drown out the following conversation about the graduation, humming half interested or offering a small nod and chuckle of approval as your eyes focused on the cliques behind your friends' heads. Kids you’d grown up with your whole life, smiling widely and knocking into each other, chanting words you couldn’t decipher over the speaker that blasted as loud as it could across the lawn. You wondered if any of them had the same sense of dread you did. If the graduation felt more like a guilty secret than a moment of freedom for them too.

You should tell them.

Your thoughts snapped back to your friends when a voice filtered through the cloudy blockage. “Babe.”

“Hm?” your gaze fell back to the flushed face of your girlfriend, who held her hand out, now stood up. “I said they’re lighting the fire soon, doofus.” She frowned, confused by your sudden zone out.

“Oh shit,” you stood, fingers clasped around hers as she yanked you up.

You let go of her hand as soon as you stand, and ignore how your palm burns at the loss.

Ellie looks at you again, oh so observant Ellie, who reaches for your hand again, squeezing it so can’t push it away. You can’t bother to try anyway.

“You good?”

“Yea, jus’ smoked a bit much.” You nodded and smiled weakly, pointing your joined hands to where Jesse, Dina, and Cat stepped slowly in front of you. Ellie hurried both your feet over the grass to meet them as they shoved each other for the best look on the bonfire.

You and Ellie ended up behind the group a bit, as neither of you had brought your own papers to throw in the fire. Ellie said she hadn’t ever been good at collecting old assignments. You threw them out the moment your last class ended. You’d torn down every studying calendar, shoved every textbook and damn ruler into a trash bag and tossed it away. None was left by graduation.

You need to tell her.

James Summers perched on a stack of logs behind the bonfire, his throat cleared, bellowing as he shook around a small container of gasoline in hand, “We’re fucking free!”

The entire crowd erupted in cheers as Ellie's hand discreetly looped around your waist, offering a squeeze. She pressed a kiss to the side of your face, and you bit the inside of your cheek.

You were sick.

Everyone began throwing their papers into the pit, the gasoline scent filling the small and tightly packed area, mixing with the overwhelming stench of sweat and cheap alcohol. You could barely breathe it in anymore.

“Three!” James called.

“Ellie.” your voice cracked.

“Two!” The crowd yelled. Ellie looked over at you, noticing the discomfort etched across your face, and furrowed her brow.

“What’s wrong?”

“One!”

“I'm leaving. I’m leaving Jackson in three days.”

Ellie gleamed in a sudden surge of bright orange, heat tickling your face and screams ringing your ears. The fire had been lit, sparks of embers flying through the air as students swatted at them and laughed.

All you could see was Ellie. You watched slowly as her face dropped, as her sun kissed freckles flashed to a sudden pale. You watched as her hand dropped from around you, letting the sickeningly humid air hug your middle instead. Far less comforting than the itch of her bracelet against your skin.

All you can hear is the sharp gasp of air Ellie intakes, all you can hear is the choked question that dies on her lips. All you can hear is the crack of your ribs, maybe your heart, under your chest.

“What?”

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“What?”

You blink blearily, rubbing your heavy eyes as you’re pulled into reality for a moment, staring at the tilted number of James Summer’s mailbox. The seven at the end barely holds on as it hangs loosely over the faded white paint. Your name follows the one word question, and then again. Shit, how long had you been unfocused? Your cold fingerprints dance over your fogged window absentmindedly.

“Mom,” your voice sounds whiny, like a tired child whose bones ached in the cold Wyoming winter. Being in this town sort of made you feel that way. “I said I’m about fifteen minutes out. My car made a weird noise on Maple Street, I took a break.”

Your father’s voice crashes through the grainy sounding speaker next, and you can almost imagine his face poked down to the place where your mother held the phone out. “Well did you check your gas?” You sigh. “Yes, dad.”

“And you’ve had the heat on? Know you probably haven't used it down in California much, but it’s important,” the slight edge to his voice has you twisting your hand down the window a bit harsher, “I’m not stupid, of course my heat is on. It gets cold there too, y’know,” Your eyes shoot to the dial, craning your neck with embarrassment, the heat was barely on. Thank god your parents didn’t like the concept of facetime.

“It was probably the fact that I dunno– I drove it fourteen hours?” you snap, any other building complaints dying in your throat as you instead focus your head out the window, a familiar flash of black hair nodding down the slick and cracked sidewalk to the left of you.

It was Jesse.

He looked the same, kept his hair the same overly complicated hairdo that you knew took him ages, even if he defended he woke up like that. He still had the same winter coat, though it landed awkwardly above his wrist as he whistled to his family dog, Lena. It almost shakes you, how stuck you feel in a moment of the past. You ignore your mother's calls of your name, chewing nervously on your lip. Hadn't he transferred to an out-of-state college two years ago? You saw so on one of your drunken social media stalkings. Maybe he was visiting for the Holidays? Maybe he was visiting Dina and Cat.. and–

“Turn your car on again!” your dad’s voice cut through your thoughts. You take one more look at Jesse, blinking like you were looking at some old photo or video from high school. He really did look the same. Only he was taller now, if that was even possible– less boyish in the charming smile he offered as Lena slid gently on a patch of ice. You slump down against your seat, shielding your face as your fingers turn the keychain filled car key still in the ignition. It rumbles to life softly, with a few spurts of an angry sounding engine before it settles into a normal low hum.

“It’s fine now.” You grumble, hearing your father’s tongue click. “Well hurry then, we have things to get ready for.” Your mother scolded as you shifted the old car into drive, refusing to look to your left as you started down the street, knuckles holding the wheel so tightly they hurt. “Bye.”

The click of your call ending allows you to take a long loud breath, sitting straighter in your seat as your eyes glance to the overstuffed duffle bag in your passenger seat. It’s with the heaviest clothes you could find in your mini closet back home– back in your home in San Francisco. It was a lot of sweaters and old tattered jeans you would have to layer to survive the cold without being ushered to wear your mother's awful coats or have an old scarf from middle school thrown around your neck to keep your cheeks warm. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

You hadn't had much time to pack properly, pull boxes down of clothes you only wore when it got really cold in your city during the winter. A split second decision after another fight over text messages with your mother sent you in a whirlwind of getting to Jackson as soon as possible.

You had narrowly avoided coming to your hometown for any holiday, let alone winter ones, ever since you left three summers ago. Both Christmases since then were spent in California, the promises of a beach holiday with warm sun pricking at your parents' skin and all the best events in Malibu lured them the first year, and car troubles you couldn’t afford to fix if you bought a plane ticket drove them to your home in San Fran the next.

It had not been enough this time. Your mother begged for months, going back and forth with you during every call, every picture she sent of a new poster lined on the local grocery store of Ski lodge events, light shows, any snowy magic that you could not find on the concrete streets of your home.

What finally broke you was your mother's rushed words last week, against a little screen you stared at in your dark living room as your roommate’s rushed words about work drowned out around you. ‘What are you avoiding?’ the text message read, ‘Do you hate where we raised you that much? Are you that embarrassed by where you're from?’ the next came. The words danced in your head, mingling with the soft music that played from the record player in your area.

You planned the trip the next day.

Maybe that made you weak. Maybe avoiding coming back to the small cold town this long made you weak. You weren’t sure anymore. Either way, you ended up here, after a very long drive with constant pauses and lots and lots of music to drown any thought that built inside your nerve wracked brain during the lovely endeavor of making it across the different states.

Taking your car in the first place was a decision no one you spoke to really understood. It would have been a short flight, easy to get through the airports, easy to be picked up by your parents or a cab. Maybe somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew why you had chosen this route. it prolonged the journey. It gave you more time to wallow in the kingdom of pity you had built yourself in these past years since you’d left. It provided the perfect out, need be. Your tire popped on the interstate. Your engine started sounding weird 10 hours in— something like that. Something to cower away as you had done three summers ago.

Surprisingly, you made it past the large sign that wrote Jackson’s town name in big green letters without making an excuse with your old car.

You could just coop up in your parent's house anyway, avoid prying eyes or curious old friends you may run into at the local market or the bar you used to always wish you could creep into. You could just…hide away, right?

By the time your mind cycles through every thought that sits in the divets of your creased brow, you realize you have arrived at your parent's driveway. It must have been muscle memory to get you to this point, and your tight grip loosens as you come to a soft stop behind the other car in your— your parents driveway. You settle back into the cushion of your seat as you peer outside the windshield, sighing gently.

Nothing has changed, of course. The grass was yellowed now, as it did every winter when bogged down by the constant frost and flurries. You were pretty sure it hadn’t snowed here yet, but the vegetation sure looked just as dead anyway. The large tree that edged the property, longest branches brushing against one of the side windows— one you used to squeal at in the dark as a child, make your father show you to was not a monster, scratched against the house still.

Your mother got the front porch fixed though, it was all she could talk about last spring. Without the burden, even if she wouldn’t call it that, of raising a child or putting them through college, she had the money to fix the creaky wood. It was replaced now by pretty and perfect panes that showed no signs of the little feet dragged over it for eighteen years. No one would know how many times you fell forward on the second step and scraped your knees or busted a lip. No one could tell the stains of ice cream you and.. you and friends had dropped on the light wood every summer. It had all been erased with the renovation, and you shouldn't feel so odd about it, but you do.

Your eyes are blurring from how long you are staring, unmoving as your skin runs as cold as the air outside, rushing through the memories. But the swing of the front door has your attention, your mother waltzing out quickly, her head twisting around as she searches for you. Your fingers twist your ignition off, hand reaching to your passenger for the purple duffle bag.

Your name is called shrilly from behind the fogged glass, and your eyes fall closed for a moment, begging the sky above for the patience you need as you step into the Jackson air. “Hi Mom,” you greet, one arm reaching over your head to stretch with a large yawn as your mother rushes over, fists clenching and then unclenching as if she was in thought.

She wouldn’t hug you. She never did. But when she blinks at you and says, “You should change out of those clothes, take a shower,” you know she’s doing the closest thing she can to an actual sign of comfort.

You nod, not willing to start an argument in the first few minutes of your trip. Your eyes fall to your sweater and soft pants. “Yea— yea.”

Your mother gives a tight lipped smile, nodding her head toward the door like you needed any assistance on how to reach the entrance, scurrying in front of you.

You follow silently, catching glances at your neighbor's houses. You almost pause, almost tilt your chin back and try to find the powder blue house you couldn’t get out of your mind, but you fight against the impulse, following your speeding mother to the door as she ushers you into the warmth of the entryway.

“Where’s dad?” you ask, freezing hands tingled as you step into the dense house, enveloped in the heat with a sigh. Now it smelt like cinnamon and cedar, the candles of the season for your mother. Your hands rubbed over your sweater, trying to rid the awful feeling of such a quick temperature change.

“Kitchen,” your mother hummed, tugging the duffle bag from your arms, frowning as she moved to the zipper to inspect what was inside. Nosy as ever. “You’re fine with staying in your old room?”

“Yea?”

“Just never know with you,” she sighed, clambering up the stairs before you could question what she meant. Your feet turn to the hallway, trailing your hand over the soft white wall, counting each picture that lines the wall. Only one included you and your parents, the biggest frame in the hallway.

You remember the day it was taken. Your freshman winter break, a knitted hat pressed over your head, face scrunched in a laugh as your father slapped his hand on your back, hot chocolate running down your fingers and into the white sweater you wore. Your mother looked horrified, a half smile on her face as she leaned over your father. It was one of the only moments you remember fondly all together. A moment you truly felt that warm feeling people described about family. Your fingers had been burning with the spilled drink, and your father couldn’t stop laughing at the sight, even as your mother scolded the both of you.

Maybe you remember it so fondly because of who took it. Joel had, and you can almost bear the chuckle of his now, beating against your ears as you meet the tile of your kitchen.

Your father is hovering over a kitchen counter, frowning and squinting at one of the cookbooks that’s almost as old as you. “Hi,” you interrupt his focus.

His head turns, and crow's feet crowd the space at the corner of his eyes as he smiles. “Hi kid,” his fingers release the cookbook, meeting your steps into the kitchen, which they must have just changed the lightbulb in— because the soft yellow was much too bright now— and wraps you into a hug.

“You made it in one piece! I'm surprised!” he teases, and you nod as you wiggle free from his embrace, stepping back. “sure did,” you throw a thumbs up, “why are you looking at that?” You nod to the book.

Your dad’s eyes flit away from yours, and you swear there’s a sense of nervousness as he shrugs. “Looking for something to make with the soup. Think I’m just gonna grab crackers and cheese though.”

“Soup?” you groan.

“Uh uh, no whining,” he shook his head. “only make food the people who live here like.”

You throw a hand over your chest and hiss, “Ouch?”

You smile when he rolls his eyes. “Your mom has people coming over,” he refuses to meet your eyes again. “She wanted soup.”

“What?” you pause, “someone’s coming over?”

Before your dad can answer, your mom is in the room again, sniffling. “The window up there is still letting in cold air,” she speaks to your dad, ignoring your frown. “They’re going to be here any minute.”

“Who?” you ask again, this time a little louder. You don’t like the feeling in your stomach, the rock that feels lodged there, pulling down your posture, making your hands shaky.

Your mother doesn’t answer you, instead pursing her lips. “fix your sweater. or take a shower like I asked.”

Your hands reach to do so without a second thought, and you find yourself cursing your instincts to listen. Maybe she would have answered you if you refused.

A ring at the doorbell has all three of your heads turning. Your father turns away when you try and meet your gaze, going back to the stove to stir the soup.

You follow on your mother’s heels as she goes down the hallway. “Why didn’t you tell me someone was coming over? I just got here! what if I wanted to sleep?”

“You can go up to your room if you want. I planned this before you decided to finally come home for once.”

Ouch.

“What do you mean you planned it?”

Your mother looked your way for a second, her chin over her shoulder as she frowned at all of your questions. “They're alone all of the time,” she called your name like a scold, “we let them spend holidays with us. that includes the preparations.”

You want to rip your hair out as you groan, more high pitched as she reaches the door, “who?”

The doorknob turns with your mother’s hand, and the air is knocked from your chest as she grins at the open door.

“Joel! Ellie!” she greets.

You truly think your knees are going to give in at that very moment, the rush of frozen air against your cheeks the only presence keeping your body held up as you stumble away from your mother.

You look at Joel first, you see his greying hair, you see the beard he was now sporting, gruff as his lips quirk up, wrinkles more pronounced against his cheeks and forehead as it dips down to greet your mother respectfully, the person behind him eyes stay glued to the floor. “Evenin’ ”

You don’t want to look at her. You don’t want to let your chest exhale any air as her chin tilts up, and her eyes find the space behind your mother’s head. Find you.

She looks at you, and you feel every single stepping stone you had made these past years, every damn lock you’d formed over your chest, every stone you had leveled to your ankles to keep your head out of the clouds, your feet on the ground— all collapse. They crumble right at your toes, and your chest heaves with the very first flash of that fern green.

If you were a stronger person you would have turned your cheek, maybe even turned right around and back to the kitchen, the safe haven of your father’s quiet stirring. But you weren’t. You were weak, and that weakness manifested in the eyes you couldn’t pull away from Ellie.

Was she breathing? You couldn't see her chest moving. Were you breathing?

“Ellie,” Joel called, snapping the staring contest to a sudden stop. Your name follows, “Hey, ‘s nice seeing you.”

You try to smile, try to be polite like your mother taught you. It comes off a little shaky when you say, “Nice to see you too sir.”

“Naw it hasn’t been that long has it? You can still call me Joel.”

“Right,” you giggle, hoping no one notices how forced it sounds. “Nice to see you, Joel.”

Ellie’s eyes move back to you, looking nearly shocked by your voice. It reminds you how long it has been. How the last time she had heard you speak it was your raw throat in the corner of that graduation party, cheeks wet with tears. Was that all she could remember you by? You shake off the thought, not willing to dip into the memory of what happened after you told Ellie you were leaving that night.

“Why don’t you two catch up while Joel helps me and Dad with dinner?” your mother suggests.

God no. Please no, no, no.

“Uh—” she turned to look at Joel. Did she cut her hair? When did she cut her hair? It was shaggy against her cheek, jaggedly cut and settling longer in the back. “Oh uh— yeah. yea.” she nods.

When her lips part, you have to force yourself to swallow, have to will yourself to focus on the words she’s actually saying. On how her tone is shaky and nervous, on how it’s just a twinge deeper. Maybe that was just you making things up. Maybe it was just the cold.

Your mother nods at you, a cold hand on your arm as she passes, giving it a quick and tight squeeze. It wasn’t a comfort, more a warning as she flashed her eyes at you.

A swallow forced its way down your throat as you planted your feet into the ground, unwilling to move as you watched your mother escape down the hallway with Joel. Did they know what happened? Was she warning you to be nice?

Surely they didn’t know. You hadn’t told your parents what your break up was like. What that night was like. Your move was a death wish on the relationship anyway, so when you told your parents it was a mutual split… neither of them questioned it. They weren’t as privy to that hollow look in your eyes the following days, or how you holed yourself up in a sweatshirt that wasn’t yours. It was easy to lie to them.

But Ellie.. had Ellie lied? Would you blame her if she hadn’t? If you were the villain in the story she told, would you even really have any right to fight that? You’d tasted the poison on your tongue the last time you saw her, and felt it spill into the summer air with every word. You felt the sting of salt twinged angry tears on your cheeks, the heat of your touch on a bewildered Ellie. You press nails into your palms before the memory plays.

Maybe you *had* been the villain.

“Hey.”

You find your attention following the low word, finding the pair of lips they fell from. Ellie’s cheeks were red, and you began to count the freckles on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes almost met yours though, so you turned to watch how she stuffed her hands quickly in the loose dark jeans she wore, rocking back on the feet, the white shoelace stuck under the tip of the shoe.

“You still don’t tie the knots tight enough?” was all you could say. Not hi, not the most basic respect of eye contact. Just.. that.

“What?” Ellie asked, a noise that almost sounded like a chuckle coming next.

“Your shoe, it’s untied.” You offer, straightening your trembling hand to point down to where she stepped on the lace. She used to always tie her laces too loose.

“Oh,” Ellie’s head dips down, and you focus on the new haircut again. She had to have done it herself, the ends that fall just below the middle of her neck are slightly uneven and jostled, slightly grown out from what you suspect was the original cut.

“Yea.”

You didn’t know what to say other than that, and the silence hung heavy in the air as you both opened your mouths, only to simultaneously close them again.

“Girls,” the sweet, saving voice of your father flew down the tension thick hallway. “Soup’s ready.”

“Cool— or uh— yea. Coming,” you stutter, not bothering to catch Ellie’s gaze, avoiding the nausea it would bring.

“Just a second,” Ellie says after, pausing before she adds, “jus’ have to tie my shoe.”

Your eyes flick closed for a second, an odd mixture of that nausea and something a bit more delicate in your stomach, one that almost makes you want to pull the frown from your lips to instead quirk up.

You pad down to the kitchen, the soft muttering of your mother and Joel at the small wooden table, your mother’s favorite patterned ceramic bowls on top of soft flower table mats pushed in front of them. They have a Christmas magazine in front of them, and Joel is rubbing his fingers over his chin as your mother prattles on.

“You think you could make that?”

“Oh, I mean— that’s an awful lot just to have done in two weeks, but I could try..”

“Stop hounding the man,” your dad warns playfully, setting down two more bowls at the table, two chairs pulled out next to each other.

There was no way you would survive this dinner.

Ellie’s footsteps find the tile of the kitchen soon thereafter, and you avoid taking a seat, eyes stuck on the suddenly very interesting change of kitchen window curtains. “I have to um— use the bathroom,” the other girl said, jutting a thumb toward the hallway again.

Joel huffs quietly, giving a look to Ellie that you can’t quite discern through the quick glances you offer that way every few seconds. “Soup’s gonna get cold.”

“Really have to piss dude.”

“Ellie!” Joel scolds, eyes wide as he looks between the girl in the doorway and your mother at the table.

“I know- I know, sorry, I’ll be quick,” Ellie stumbles over her words, something she always did in conversations she didn’t know how to handle, shoes squeaking against the floor as she finds the bathroom door again.

“I think—” you clear your throat, looking toward your mom. “I’m gonna take you up on the offer of shower and sleeping.”

As always, you’re choosing the easy way out, avoiding the situation as a whole. “I’m sorry, sir—uh— Joel.”

Your head dips respectfully, a sign of apology for escaping out of the dinner, but Joel and your father are both shaking their heads. “Did one hell of a drive, go sleep,” Joel waves you off.

“Goodnight,” your father adds, one of his soft smiles aimed at you, speaking for both himself and your mother who remains silent and staring at you.

“Night,” you whisper, turning out of the kitchen and to your right, but instead of heading to the stairs, you press your back to the wall, squeezing your eyes closed as you try to find a most average breathing pattern.

1…2…3…4, fuck.. what were you supposed to count? 5 things you can see.. 4 you can touch.. 3 you can...

“Well that was… awkward.. a bit of a mess,” your mother’s voice flows through the white wall, and your cheek turns, as if pressing your ear to the paint would actually make the echoed voices clearer.

“Of course it is, it’s been three years, it'll take time, that’s all.” your father muttered, and you can imagine perfectly how his eyebrows furrowed at your mom’s comment.

“Dunno,” Joel, ever the gossip, sighed. “I don’t think those two ended off well.”

You hear your name in the mix as your father continues, “She said she left on good terms.”

“Maybe. But, shit, I’d never seen Ellie like that, how she was that summer.”

Your head fell back on the wall, a bottom lip sucked between your teeth as you breathe through your nose. You shouldn’t listen to this.

“That girl.. she doesn’t like to talk,” Joel muttered, pausing— maybe to take a sip of soup.

“Her either,” your dad offers on your behalf.

“But,” Joel added, “tchh, she was a wreck. Yellin’ at me more and ignoring Jesse at the door. Had to force her to go shower, like a little kid— drag her out her room to eat,” Joel added.

Your fingers pressed into the bottom of your sweater, and you try to rid your eyes of the pictures it painted of a messy Ellie, of swollen eyes and glossy green irises. You tried not to imagine Ellie with red cheeks and tangled hair, ignoring Joel’s pleas to leave her dark bedroom. You’d loved that bedroom, but the thought of her pressed under the grey comforter, blank expression as she ignored your— her friends, well it ruins that nostalgic illusion.

“Wouldn’t tell me why, but.. when I found out your girl had left.. ahh, well I knew. We never talked about it, but it was a rough few weeks.”

The bathroom door clicks open, and Ellie’s eyes look a little red as she moves past you in the hallway.

“They were teenagers then,” your mother concluded quietly. “I’m sure they’re over it.”

Sometime during your eavesdropping, your hand found the space over your chest on your sweater instead of the bottom, fingertips pressing over your ribs as if the pressure pain could remove the ache that settled much lower from the words.

Ellie’s flushed face met your gaze for a moment, and yes— her eyes definitely were a bit red. She didn’t smile at you, but she didn’t scowl either. You would have rathered that, than the unreadable eyes she gives you, a soft pause as her eyelashes flutter, probably confused why you were pressed against the wall.

You scurry past her, shoulders knocking as you do. A quick shock spreads down your shoulder and arm, fist clenching and then loosening. Ellie disappeared into the kitchen as you found the stairs.

This was going to be a very, very long holiday season.

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mellifiedprincess · 11 months

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anotha one😝 this fic is pure crack honestly, it’s not my best work and i was sleep deprived and wrote this in like 20 minutes, soooo keep that in mind. i also imagined the reader being super short in this, because i may have a wee bit of a size kink (don’t tell anyone🤭) but like how cute would ethan look with a partner that’s like 4’11 compared to his 6’1 ass. AGHHH I CANT

Ethan Landry x Reader

Nap time

Everyone who knew you, knew that there was only one thing in this world that could rival your love for Ethan. And that was napping. You couldn’t help that you were a sleepy girl. You were lucky enough too, that you could nap anywhere. Whether it be your head resting on a hard countertop, the lap of one of your friends, you were even found asleep on the stairs in your parents home once.

Unfortunately though, as of lately, you haven’t been able to sleep that well. And you knew exactly what the cause of this was from, well more of WHO the cause of this was from. Ethan fucking Landry. The boy with the loveliest doe eyes, the boy with the sweetest smile, the boy that stole your heart all those months ago and has told you he was never giving it back.

But he didn’t just steal your heart, no, he stole your ability of napping anywhere your little heart desired.

You couldn’t nap without him anymore.

Of course it wasn’t all his fault, you were the one to snuggle up to him, thinking you were only going to ‘rest’ your eyes for a few seconds. Those few seconds turned into two hours. You couldn’t help it. He was just so warm and smelled so good. It certainly didn’t help that he was running his fingers through your hair while softly humming in your ear. Anyone would have fallen under his spell and drifted off in minutes, if they had been in the position you were in. At least that’s what yoy keep telling yourself.

You had also, by now, convinced yourself he did all of it on purpose.

Which is why you’ve been glaring at him for the past seven minutes. You were sleepy, and all you wanted was to lay your sweet little head down and take a nap. But when your head hits the soft pillow on Ethan’s bed, you find yourself not able to fall asleep. You knew in your head all you needed to do was ask Ethan to come lay down with you, and he would. He would do absolutely anything you asked of him. But you were furious with him. Furious that his conspiracy against you has worked.

“Baby, we’ve talked about how you have to tell me when I’ve upset you, otherwise I won’t know how to fix it.” He wasn’t even looking at you, he had his back towards you while he worked at his desk. “I can quite literally feel the heat from your eyes, angel.” “Well my eyes would be closed and I would be fast asleep, taking my much needed nap if you wouldn’t have ruined them for me.” You grumble out, arms crossed, brows furrowed, adorable pout present.

He drops his pencil at that, confusion wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what Ethan felt. “How did I ruin your nap?” His voice raises an octave higher out of disbelief, and he finally turns to look at you. “I’ve been quiet this whole time and you have quite literally fallen asleep at frat parties before, where it was much more chaotic. I had to nearly tackle someone to stop them from sitting on you.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what you did!” You yell as you jump up, standing on Ethan’s bed and pointing an accusing finger at him. His brown eyes widen, not sure if you’re just having one of your ‘moments’ as he likes to call them, or if you’ve actually lost your mind. “I don’t though, that’s why I asked you to tell me.” At his remark, you ball your fists up, throwing them down at your side, all while making the cutest grumbling sound.

Ethan stands from his chair, coming to stand in front of you at his bed. Since you’re standing on his bed, you’re looking down at him. His hands grab yours, unballing your “threatening” fists, and he’s pleading with his eyes. “Tell me what I did so I can make up for it.” After a few seconds you throw your head back with a loud groan, before dramatically falling forward to be caught by Ethan, wrapping your arms and legs around him completely. “I can’t nap without you.” You all but cry out, still holding a menacing stare as your forehead touches his.

He laughs. He laughs right in your face. “Stop laughing at me!” You push his face away from yours, squirming in his arms trying but failing to get away from him. “Awe, I’m sorry baby. What can I do to help?” To anyone else, he would sound patronizing, but you knew he genuinely was sorry and wanted to make you feel better.

“Don’t you need to finish your homework?” Your eyes glance over at the anatomy worksheet, and then back to Ethan. “Yeah, well I think my baby needs me more. So, I’m not worried about that right now.” You grin at his words, placing a sweet kiss to his lips, before pulling away pretending to look deep in thought. He already knows what you need, he also knows you’re just too scared to ask. All because you got in your own head about how dependent you’ve become of him. He loved it. He loved that you needed him just for the smallest of things like taking a nap.

“Do you want me to lay down with you while you nap? I’ll even hold your hand the entire time, if you want.” You giggle at that, already feeling much more relaxed. “What if I want to wrap myself around you like a koala? Would you let me do that?”

“You’re already the size of one, so why not?”

“Ethan!”

You’re pouting again, and he could only smile because you were just too fucking cute. “Okay! Okay! I’m done.” He pushes a few strands of hair out of your face, and grabs your chin, placing a few kisses to your pouted lips.

“Can we lay down now? You’ve been standing here holding me for like 10 minutes now, your arms have to hurt by now.”

“Baby.” He says with disbelief. “I’ve held you for way longer than 10 minutes, while we were doing something a lot more physically demanding.” Your cheeks immediately flush red at his words. Hiding your face in his neck. “Don’t get all shy on me now. You were just yelling at me 10 minutes ago about ruining your naps.” He couldn’t help but tease you, it was just too easy.

“Ethan, stop it.” You mumble out. He laughs again, but finally moves to sit you back down on his bed. You climb to the top, and wait for Ethan to join you. He goes to slip under the blanket with you, but you stop him. “No! You have to take your clothes off!” He holds his hands out in front of him, in a defensive manner. “Someone’s not so shy now. You need me to tire you out or something?”

You roll your eyes at your dumb boyfriend, and watch as he removes his tshirt and jeans. “I meant so I could sleep on you more comfortably, you perv!” “You’re calling me a perv, after asking me to strip and defile you?”

You open and close your mouth “I didn’t ask-“ You stop, exhaling sharply through your nose. “Please, E, just get in the damn bed.” “I’m coming, jeez!” Finally, he lays down beside you, and before you could move, he turns and wraps his arms around your body, an innocent grin on his pretty lips. And you can already feel your eyes grow heavy, as his fingers begin to trail up and down your spine and he presses soft kisses to your temple.

“Get some rest, sweet girl, because I will be defiling you when you wake up.” His tone is light and playful.

“Ethannn, can you stop being such a horny teenage boy for two seconds?” Your tone is annoyed. “Yeah, as long as you’re around, that’s not happening.”

“You’re such a whore.” Ethan laughs at your remark, squeezing you even closer, if possible, to his body. He’s finally quiet after that, besides the soft humming coming from his lips.

And he would never admit this to you, but he was having trouble sleeping without you by his side too. He loved the weight of you on his chest, the way your hair smelled. He especially loved when you would take his hand in yours, all while still sleeping, and hold it to your chest. You would hold it so tight sometimes he would lose feeling in his fingers.

He didn’t care though. Because he loved you and all of those things produced a warm, comfortable feeling he never received as a child.

So, he would lay there for hours, and watch the rise and fall of your chest, and listen to the soft snores leave your mouth. All without a single complaint.

#ethan landry x reader #jack champion #jack champion x reader #ethan landry #scream vi

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morallyinept · 5 months

Text

UNWRAP ME - A Frankie Morales Christmas One Shot

Summary: You gift yourself to Frankie as his early Christmas present, and he can't wait to unwrap you.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub. Images just for aesthetic, no reference to Reader.)

Word Count: 4.1k

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶️🌶️🌶️ "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/triggers - Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/fingering/oral F receiving/Frankie's curls are let loose.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Hot, spicy Christmas fun to kick off my 12 Days Of XXX-MAS, with that hot, spicy tamale, Frankie. 🥵 There is some Frankie Spanish, I've not provided translations as it's easy enough to Google if you're curious, but you can probably figure it out. 😉

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🎄🖤

“I’ve got you something for Christmas, baby. But I want to give it to you a little early.” You call out to him.

You can hear the familial heavy padding of his feet up the stairs, as you slick on a coat of matte lipstick in the ensuite bathroom.

You pucker into the mirror over the sink regarding yourself, and smile at what you see with that devilish glint lingering in your eye.

You can only imagine what he’ll make of it, and that thought pulses hot through your veins in wanton excitement.

You spritz on a faint mist of your favourite scent - one that you know will make his mouth water too - and linger discreetly in the doorway, watching Frankie now rifling around in the wardrobe, completely oblivious.

He has his broad back to you, and you can see him putting laundry away in neat piles on the shelves inside the doors. His grey t-shirt rides up as he reaches into the furthest crevices of the wardrobe, revealing the tanned, fleshed divots of his lower back.

His worn, scuffed jeans are slung low on his hips and those muscles flex and ripple under his skin as he stretches, and your own mouth begins to water.

“Did you do the ironing?” You question, perplexed.

“Yes, I did the ironing,” he grunts, in a voice lazily mimicking yours.

You see him shake his head; those wild curls growing unruly at the nape of his neck. The faded blue cap is slapped on his head in a regular trademark manner. Even when indoors, Frankie can’t abstain from plonking it on to keep his waves under check.

“And it’s not Christmas yet. So, don’t think by giving me a present early that you’re going to get one early, hermosa. Sé lo que estás haciendo.” Frankie confirms, his voice being absorbed into the clothes, but you can hear him smiling as he says it, and that soft snort as he chuckles to himself.

“Are you sure about that?” You question, smirking.

“Si, bebita. I’m not falling for it. You’ve just gotta wait until-”

He glances over his shoulder, stops instantly as though you’ve put him on pause, and then does a slow full turn. His face is unreadable; his lips pursed as his eyes seemingly cloud over for a few moments.

Grinning, you beckon him over, but he’s rooted to the spot; his legs suddenly feeling that if he takes a step forward he’ll collapse prone into the carpet.

Frozen in all the possibilities of what’s unfolding in front of his eyes as he looks you up and down, and his cheeks start to glow brighter than Rudolph's nose.

Frankie swallows, his mouth suddenly very dry and claggy like he’s been licking said carpet all night. Your eyes lock onto his; just as cavernous and darkening, feeling like you can fall right into them as they drink you up.

You study his face; like a chameleon camouflaging against its surroundings, Frankie’s face works through every single shade of shock, astonishment and heated lust there is on the colour scale.

“Well, shit...” He baulks, tossing the wardrobe door shut behind him. “¿Es todo esto para mí?” Frankie questions, barely able to take you all in.

You can see him visibly sweating.

“It’s all for you, baby. Feliz Navidad.” You smile, stepping fully into the bedroom from the ensuite doorway.

“Fuck.” Frankie remarks with a look like he’s just been punched in the scruffy jaw and can’t quite comprehend the audacity of it.

“Are you going to unwrap me?” You ask, with a villainous smirk and he’s utterly lost for words.

Your body is wrapped in scarlet silk and velvet lingerie. Your breasts are sculpted to perfection inside a corset-style basque; the front lined with several velvet bows in the same colour that holds it all closed around your ample mounds.

All tied up neatly and tightly that you’re threatening to spill out over it at any moment.

You’re wearing a matching red thong, along with red lace-topped stockings, and your satin heels that match. A real candy cane dream, all shimmery and scrumptious before him as he licks his lips.

Your eyes sparkle at him through subtle, yet smokey make-up and red lips.

He perches clumsily on the end of the bed, somewhat remembering where it is from muscle memory, and equally missing as he stumbles, sinking backwards, legs buckling underneath him.

His hand navigates over his mouth, scratching at his grey-speckled beard and looking you up and down like he doesn’t know where to start.

Like all his fucking Christmases have just come at one.

“What did I do to deserve this?” Frankie questions, his eyes moving between your breasts and pussy each time he looks you over. Shit, he doesn’t even know where the hell to look.

You come and sit beside him on the bed, resting back on your elbows so he can run his shaky hands up and down the velvet and silken ensemble.

He tweaks at one of the bows, smoothing it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Well, you did do the laundry.” You chuckle, and he tickles across your stomach with those roaming, thick fingers.

“You look-” He stutters out a sigh, eyes big and a smirk on the cusp of cracking his face. He’s staring you down as though you’re a piece of meat he can’t wait to tear into, salivating.

“I know.” You wink at him.

Frankie leans in and kisses you, his lips running over yours smoothly and softly. Soft, gentle clicks fill the room as he kisses all along your bottom lip; suckling it gently before running his mouth across your cheek and towards your neck, inhaling your perfume.

The soft nips in between his lingering kisses from those puffy, pink lips of his begin to engulf you, and your head lolls back as he kisses along your jaw and throat, planting carnage inside your pores.

“Fuck, I’m so hard.” Frankie whispers, looking into your cleavage and then up at your eyes.

His dick, throbbing and swollen, feels like it'll fire off and fly round the room at the sight of you swathed in all this sumptuous velvet and lace, all just for him.

Your hand slips down to his crotch and squeezes gently over the denim. “Mmm... yeah you are.” You grin.

“You kill me, hermosa.” He whines, almost payhetically.

Your heart’s beating faster and louder inside your chest as you lean up towards him slowly; zoning in on his mouth and crush your lips against his. Groaning at the feeling of the way those fuzzy lips graze against yours, coursing electricity through your arms and legs like you’ve stuck your wet fingers in a socket.

You can taste his tongue and the remnants of coffee beans and spearmint gum, as he slips it into your mouth and massages it with his deliciously.

Fuck.

Taking his sweet time, Frankie starts pulling on the top two ribbons, slowly revealing more of that soft, supple skin that smells of flowers and fruit; thoroughly enjoying unwrapping his gift as your breasts spill out at him.

His dark, brown eyes flit up to your face now again to read you, to relish in the feeling of what he’ll find underneath it all; the reward of your perky nipples waiting for him, and that sopping, wet pussy that he can bury his face into for hours and never get bored.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Frankie murmurs into your face; the warmth from his breath settling into your pores. "All for me, all for me..." He sighs, beside himself.

You smile; a slow, insidious beam unfolding on your lips much like The Grinch. "All for you, baby."

The ribbons are undone and your breasts revealed to him fully; it’s like he’s seeing them for the first time all over again, and Frankie could just weep at the sight of them.

He runs his fingertips across them, and you’re watching as they circle tantalisingly around your nipples; the calloused pads of them feeling the tiny bumps rising around your areolas as they harden.

He smooches over them, slipping his tongue around the peak where he sucks it into his eager, hot mouth.

You watch as he flicks that wet, fleshy muscle in his mouth back and forth over it, biting down on your lip as he gropes and squeezes the other inside his hand.

He manoeuvres himself between your legs, sliding carefully on his belly like he would creeping up on the enemy, with a mouth full of your tits.

You pull off his cap and toss it across the bed, running your fingers through his mussed hair as he suckles on you, pulling a little tighter with his teeth, making you hiss.

"Mmm," you sigh out at the feel of it. It tingles all the way down into your clit.

He crawls further up you, running kisses up your throat and the side of your face as he gets close. His long, thick fingers claw up and down your inner thigh, skimming his thumb across the lace at the top of your stockings.

He hums out in dreamy satisfaction and it’s warm inside your ear. You love him like this, free to roam your body and play with it. You’re unapologetically clawing at him and wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him in closer.

You can feel his cock, straining inside the stonewash denim to be freed, pressing heavy against your thigh. Hear how he groans with need as you grind against it.

Your mouths run all over each other; absorbing those sounds he makes snuffling out of his nose and from the back of his throat, creating plentiful melodies inside of your ears that you can tune in to all day. Frankie FM.

His hands are roaming your body, squeezing, kneading, pinching. His lips part and his eyes open up as he stares at you as you feel his fingers trail down to your centre.

You can see the subtle gold flecks inside of his chocolate irises and can make shapes in them; find yourself lost in the galaxy of them, that’s how deep they pull you in when he’s this close and on top of you.

He glances down at his fingers pulling against the thong, and wrenches it upwards. You buck and groan as it grazes against your swelling clit.

“These, are the tiniest fuckin’ panties I’ve ever seen.” Frankie husks as he nips on your lobe.

You giggle.

“I could literally tear them off.”

“I’d rather you didn’t, they’re brand new.” You playfully scold.

“I don’t give a fuck.” He growls as he breathes against your cheek. Momentarily you feel a sharp tug and hear the lace tear with ease. “I’ll open my gift how I want. Esto es todo mio.”

“Mmm,” you whine.

He rolls onto his side and smirks propping himself up on his elbow and pulls a piece of the shredded thong out from under your ass. He tosses it over his shoulder casually and smirks accomplished.

"That's better," he says.

You’re spread wide for him, feeling the yummy tingles of his fingers blaze trails down your body, stroking along your arm, over your hip and teasing around your pussy lips; barely touching them each time he ventures there between your legs.

Ghosting over your labia and avoiding your clit; the tiniest of skin-on-skin contact that makes you shudder and claw at the duvet in anticipation.

"Frankie..." You hiss as the goosebumps flood your skin.

Breathing heavier into his mouth as his tongue swims around yours when he leans over and finds your lips again.

His index and middle fingers split across the outside of your cunt that you can feel is slick and warm, and then when he sweeps back up again, he gently nudges your clit this time, sending your body into a rhythm of tingles and shocks.

“You like that, huh?” Frankie croons in delight at your reaction, he watches your face as he begins circling his middle finger over your swollen clit; tapping at first ever so gently and then rubbing in tantalising circles and applying a little pressure more and more each time he does a three-sixty on it.

"Baby... ah, feels so good." You whine.

You marvel at how he can simply play you like an instrument, plucking your stings, eliciting different tones out of you.

You watch him bring his fingers to his mouth and suck them before he slides them back between your sticky folds.

“Frankie…” You're fisting at his t-shirt.

“What? What do you want, hermosa?” He teases as he probes against your hole, barely dipping in and then withdrawing and rubbing your clit again.

“Fuck, please…” You husk. “Need your fingers inside me.”

“Like this?” You feel him breach, a lone digit sliding all the way in, up to the hilt of his knuckle and then retreating.

“Frankie!” You grab at his wrist, but he subdues you easily, pinning your hands above your head and clutching them together in his other hand.

“Stay still, baby.” He smirks.

He slips his fingers inside you again, pumping in and out slowly, grinning at you with the lewd, wet sounds they make echoing around the bedroom.

“So fucking wet for me…”

You can feel it, the warmth prickling at your limbs as it starts to spread through your bloodstream. He’s stroking deep; you can feel it bloom deep inside your belly, that delicious pressure as he curls his fingers.

It’s beginning to get too much; the intensity of the deep finger fuck pulling and unravelling your seams slowly as you brew and bubble around the edges whilst Frankie stares you down like a lion stalking its prey in the tall grass.

He goes faster, the squelches louder, as he pulls your pleasure out of you with skilled ease.

“That’s it, baby. Come for me… Quiero que acabes para mí,” he soothes.

Your thighs shake as the pressure builds and then erupts, flooding your body with warmth and a tingly glow that makes you giggle through your pants.

He pulls out his fingers and taps against your clit with them as you come. A little trick he likes to indulge in now and again to watch your thighs go berserk as your orgasm is torn from your core and shunted into your clit.

“Oh fuck!” You cry as you shake and gasp.

His other hand on the back of your neck, massages into the skin as your own hands run the length of his tan face and around the back of his head. His middle finger keeps nudging and rubbing on your sweet spot that's buzzing and tingling wildly under his touch.

He then dips his finger inside your hole, drenching it in your slick and back out again, lubing it up and rubbing it over the nub with a slick, circular movement.

Your thighs are constantly quaking, pushing you towards overstimulation as he builds you up again.

“Frankie…” You gasp out on a muted whisper, the sound of your squalls getting lost somewhere inside your throat.

"You've got another one," he husks.

Frankie kisses down the side of your neck and collarbone, before reaching your nipple again and takes it in his mouth, flicking his tongue around it like his finger is with your clit, matching the tempo.

Your hips press up into his fingers, winding around and jolting as he works that magic spell on your happy button as you come again, muttering incoherently into his mouth.

"Si, hermosa..."

He then stops and squeezes both your tits together with his hands, and tongues and sucks the warm nipples inside your swollen areolas as he nestles himself between your legs.

“God, you’re fuckin' hot,” Frankie whispers. You see him reach down and adjust himself over his jeans, and you can see how hard he is for you by that familiar, ominous shadow.

He pushes both your legs up, holding them under the back of your knees, and it pushes your ass and pussy up to his face.

He wastes no time in running his lips over your wet, sticky flesh and tasting you.

Letting his tongue circle around your clit then dip inside your cunt where he can taste that delicious honey pot centre, before suckling back on your clit again.

He licks long, fat stripes up your seam and eyes you darkly whilst he does it.

“Mmm, baby.” You whine, fisting into his messy hair. Curls splay over his forehead and you grip onto his tufts behind his ears, tugging his face further into your pussy.

He groans out contentedly - he fucking loves it when you do that.

You can hear him breathe and pant around your slit drenching him, quenching his thirst. Warm air from his mouth is blown onto it as he looks up at you with those dark eyes as he feasts.

Your fingers weave through the soft silk of his hair, petting him and stroking as he feasts expertly without coming up for air. Your fingers tousle it before you twist it around your fingers.

You tug harder on his silky roots and he grunts in response as he gnaws on your clit, making your legs judder.

“Mmmmaaahhh!” You whine out, your back arching and your body twisting.

His lips are clamped around you; his tongue lapping ferociously, and as you’re coming, he make delicious sounds in satisfaction too.

“Mmm, mmm...” He ribs through his lips.

Frankie clutches onto your stomach, keeping you as still and anchored as he can whilst you thrash about; his fingers slightly pressed into your gut and making you ride that wave and feel it all.

He licks up and down, as one of your hands goes to your head like you can’t believe it; the other still gripping inside his hair and pulling him further onto you, sending your body into a sweet dance of convulsion as he delves deep with his relentless tongue fucking.

“Oh, ohhh… fuuuccck! Frankie!”

He reaches up and grabs your hand as your body trembles and begins shaking about under him; he grips it tight, locking his fingers around yours, and watches from between your legs as you come hard around his mouth, filling it with sweet nectar he drinks down.

The lace from the stockings graze against his scruff and get caught in it as you try to crush his head. It’s a spectacular show of fucks and oh God’s thrown into the air as your body succumbs to his tongue.

"Baby, you're so good at that..." You look down at him smiling, and beside yourself as he fumbles with his belt, pushing his jeans down.

"I know," he replies, smugly. He crawls up your body, his cock dragging against your folds and smearing himself against your skin.

You reach for him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he buries his thick, hard cock inside of you.

That single sheath of him into you takes your breath away, and for a moment it’s like you can’t breathe. All oxygen stripped from the room and floating in a void of nothing where it’s only Frankie.

"Oh my God!" You pant.

He runs his thumb over your bottom lip and you kiss it delicately as he slowly builds his pace; fucking into you with deep, grinding movements so that his cock can savour every inch of your cunt that feels implausible around him.

You cling onto him, feeling his skin burn under your fingertips; the muscular curve of his arms; the smooth paunch of his stomach under his t-shirt as your hands run across him.

You can hear his breath pelting inside your ear as he trails his mouth up to your earlobe before taking it between his teeth and biting it gently, sending your pussy to its knees in subjugation of him.

"Frankie, fuck," you groan.

"Feels so fuckin' good..." he agrees.

You feel those little butterfly kisses from his eyelashes where he blinks against your skin; the soft graze of his patchy scruff catching against your throat.

You both moan out in sweet relief; your foreheads pressing against one another’s, as you’re reconnected, feeling like you should never be separated again.

The tip of his hawkish nose brushes against yours; his mouth crooking into a smile as your pants increase again, and he feels that yummy tightening around his dick, thoroughly enjoying the show of watching you come undone around him.

“Harder,” you whine to him, as he dives deeper into you, feeling every inch of him pack you out; lighting up those sparkly neurons inside your head like triggers leading to an almighty explosion of Christmas glitter and embers.

He pins your hands down above your head, resting his full body weight on them as his hips pummel into you, becoming more intense with each deep stroke.

“Fuck, Frankie!” You cry out as he breathes with you, trying to keep himself under control as you call out his name, but it’s useless; he craves everything you’re giving to him right now - the looks, the sounds, the feel of you tightening and squeezing around his cock.

“You wanted it harder.” He puffs with that crooked grin you want to taste.

Your back arches again as he brushes against the sweet spot inside, and makes it vibrate heavily within you.

Your legs wrap tighter around him, cinching him into you deeper; your fingers reach for his as he lets go of your wrists, interlocking with his digits as he kisses you once more, your mouths exploring each other all over again.

He growls out as you lock your feet together at the ankles as he ploughs deeper and harder into you; the bed creaking and squeaking under you both.

He reaches down, thumbing your clit as he thrusts harder into you. Heels pressed into his butt cheeks as he works you up again, never really letting you wander far from the midst of another enticing, sweet orgasm.

You can hear the sound of his cock inside you; that wet, heavy slapping noise as he fucks harder, works his hips faster.

He can’t keep his eyes off of you, staring at your body cinched up in the basque; all those curves and angles of you accentuated by it, tits bouncing over the top of it.

You gasp, biting down on your lip, your head straining back into the duvet as he feels you explode around his cock again; those little tremors around the head before he feels you squeeze tight around him and then release again.

"Yes! Frankie!" You call with a dying voice.

He wants to come inside you, wants you to feel what you’re doing to him. What you always fucking do to him.

You can see the need he has for you inside of his eyes; frantic and desperate. You push him onto his back and sit on top of him, lowering yourself slowly onto his thick cock.

"Yeah, baby. Like that... oh fuck." He groans as you rock up and down on him, his hands gripping around your hips, moving you into a steadily, deep rhythm that makes him bend and break.

“Ride me, querida!” Frankie hisses, encouragingly. Unable to comprehend that this could ever stop feeling so good.

You twirl and grind down on him as he pushes up with his hips, pulling you down onto his chest so he can kiss you again.

He crosses his arms over your back and hammers up into you. Heels of his feet pressing into the bed as he fucks you hard.

"Oh shit, shit!" You groan.

He ploughs in faster, feeling your slick walls tighten around him and making him work that bit harder to press on through into your cunt as it strangles and contracts around him.

He’s insubordinately beautiful, clutching onto him as you call out his name again and again with each hard stroke that he delivers inside of your squelching hole.

"I'm gonna come, fuck... I'm gonna come!" He wheezes.

Groaning loudly, Frankie’s lost as he comes; like he’s been tossed into a new dimension where nothing makes sense or is recognisable.

He forgets how to breathe for a moment; all he can see is you pulling him back towards you, saving him and rasping out with him as you both combust in tune with one another.

His cock is still twitching as he pulls out, you take a hold of it, pumping him a few times and making him groan and smirk in delight as you feel his spend dribble out of you and seep into the messy, creased duvet.

“Holy shit,” Frankie chokes on a throaty gasp.

He runs his hand around his throat a few times, beside himself before you lean down over him; his body weak and shaky.

You nuzzle into him, planting kisses over his cheeks as his fingers fiddle with the velvet bows on your basque.

His eyes are sleepy looking, like he’s dosed up on some wonder drug called pussy and he never wants off this high.

Frankie pulls you further on top of him; crushing you agaisnt his chest, his cock nestled nicely between your thighs. Sweaty curls are stuck to his forehead and he's never looked so good.

He spends the next few minutes just lost inside your mouth, holding you tight and letting his hand reach down and have a generous squeeze of your ass cheeks.

“Gracias por mi regalo, hermosa.” He sighs, contentedly. “Best gift ever.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” You smile, running your lips over his cheeks and fuzzy whiskers.

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales triple frontier #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal characters #jett's writing #christmas stories

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