#kisses each of her freckles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

k3n-dyll · 1 month

Text

Munch(ies) [Ellie W.]

||Men, minors, and ageless DNI

CW: not proofread, 18+, wlw, drug usage (weed), tummy kisses, reader is described as having a "soft tummy" but there are no descriptors otherwise, high sex, oral(r!receiving), fingering (r! receiving), spit, sloppy kissing, established relationship, Ellie calls reader mama like once, dom!Ellie ig

AN: The next 2 big (ish) fics I have about Ellie are angst so I'm apologizing in advance for when they come out

DONT FORGET PALESTINE

Masterlist Divider Creds

Ellie's body is tucked snug between your legs, head perched on your stomach as she looks up at you leaning up against the headboard, watching the small cloud of smoke swirl out from your nostrils. She can never get enough of you, especially when you look like this, eyes lidded and bloodshot, a soft smile on your face as you mess in her auburn locks with your free hand. She practically purrs with each gentle scratch on her scalp, her own hand kneading at your thigh.

You reach to pass her the joint again and to your shock, she shakes her head.

"Jus' finish it" she murmurs, shifting herself slightly so that she's able to slip her cold hands underneath your top. A breathy chuckle escapes her lips when she feels you tense up from the sudden contact

"God, Ellie your hands are freezing"

"Why d'you think I'm trying to warm 'em up?" She retorts with a giggle, having absolutely no intention of removing her them from the warmth of your body.

Ellie's hands travel even further up underneath the cloth of your t-shirt, long slender fingers groping at your breasts and forcing a groan out from behind your lips. You don't resist the urge to grab onto her chin, pulling her up on top of you for a kiss.

As these things often go with your girlfriend, the slow kiss becomes sloppy rather quickly; lips wet and slick with your combined saliva, your shirt hiked up to your collarbone, her hands lightly palming the soft flesh of your tits, pinching your hardened nipple between her fingers.

Everything feels so much more vivid in this state. She's barely touched you and yet you begin to feel that familiar dull, pulsing ache between your thighs that's only intensified by her kiss muffled moans, and wandering hands. She breaks from your lips only for her lips to find their way to that sweet spot on your neck, gently sucking and nipping at the area before whispering in your ear

"Can I eat your pussy, baby?"

The question sends a shiver through your body, and who are you to deny your girl? You nod and she lights up for a moment, her low-lidded eyes widening to their normal size for a moment in pure excitement.

Ellie wastes not a second, shifting her body back in between your legs and beginning to place moist kisses along your soft tummy, her thumbs hooking into the hem of both your shorts and your panties and tugging them down. Using her veiny hands to keep your legs nice and wide for her, she stops for a moment and simply admires how soaked you are, a teasing finger gliding along your slit and making you twitch.

"Ellie, please I-" you whine

"Shh, I know, mama. You just look so fucking sexy" she interrupts, the slight rasp in her voice from the smoke making waiting all the more difficult. She uses her finger to tease you a bit more before pushing two inside of you, a cocky little grin forming on her freckled face when she feels you clench around them.

"Els-"

You start to whine out again but before you get the chance, she's got her tongue flush against your clit. Her movements are slow and sloppy, sucking and lapping at your clit, a mixture of her saliva and your juices dribbling along her chin and down to your entrance where she's lazily pumping her fingers in and out of you. For a moment she pulls back and your squirm at the neglect, peering down at her with a furrowed brow.

Ellie, of course, is oblivious to your frustration, using her free hand to spread your already slick folds to spit on your sensitive bundle of nerves. She stares at her handiwork for a moment, in her own little world as she admires the way her spit slides down your cunt, letting out a low groan as it coats her fingers that are splitting you open.

"Mmmgh, Ellie please, I need you" you cry out, wanting - needing her mouth again, bucking your hips up near her face.

Ellie snaps out of her little trance and giggles, but she obliges without stopping this time. She picks up her pace as much as she can in her marijuana-induced haze, messily slurping you up and moaning into your pussy as if she was the one getting fucked right now.

"F-fuck 'm gonna cuh- g'na cum, Els" you manage to stutter out in between shaky breaths and desperate moans, your body already beginning to convulse underneath her, legs tensing up on either side of her head.

Your back arches up when you cum, head thrown back onto the headboard, jaw slack as your mouth is caught in a silent scream. Vulgar praises spill from Ellie's lips as you finish on her fingers but you can barely understand what she's saying, each one of your senses completely taken over by orgasm.

Ellie just barely wipes her mouth off when she finally pulls away from you, only really stopping the slick mixture from dripping further down her chin before crashing her lips to yours. The kiss is messy. Nasty, even. but you don't mind in the slightest, tasting yourself on her mouth before breaking the kiss to admire how pretty she looks with her lips swollen and her cheeks rosy - all pussydrunk and high. A satisfied, stupid grin graces her features before she speaks, eyes nothing more than cute crescent-shaped slits on her face

"Is it my turn now?"

Taglist: @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery,@ikoinsblog

Reblogs appreciated☆ Requests are open

#tlou2 #lesbian #wlw #☆kennie's works #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou2 #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader

1K notes · View notes

inkskinned · 4 months

Text

she's three years younger than i am, and i put on cascada as a throwback, cackling - before your time! i've been borrowing my brother's car, and it's older than dirt, so the trunk is like, maybe permanently locked. when the sun comes through the window to frame her cheekbones, i feel like i'm 16 again. i shake when i'm kissing her, worried i won't get it right.

in 2003, my state made gay marriage legal. where she grew up, it wasn't legal until 11 years later - 10 years ago. if legal protections for gay marriage were a person, that person would be entering 5th grade. online, a white gay man calls the fight for legal marriage boring, which isn't kind of him but it is a common enough opinion.

it has only been 9 years since gay marriage was nationally official. it is already boring to have gay people in your tv. it is already boring to mention being gay - "why make it your entire personality?" i know siblings that have a larger age gap than the amount of time it's been legally protected. i recently saw a grown man record himself crying about how evil gay people are. he was begging us, red in the face - just do better.

i am absolutely ruined any time my girlfriend talks about being 27 (i know!! a child!), but we actually attended undergrad at the same time since i had taken off time to work between high school and college. while walking through the city, we drop our hands, try not to look too often at each other. the other day i went to an open mic in a basement. the headlining comedian said being lesbian isn't interesting, but i am a lesbian, if you care. as a joke, she had any lesbian raise their hand if present. i raised mine, weirdly embarrassed at being the single hand in a sea of other faces. she had everyone give me a round of applause. i felt something between pride and also throwing up.

sometimes one thing is also another thing. i keep thinking about my uncle. he died in the hospital without his husband of 35 years - they were not legally wed, so his husband could not enter. this sounds like it should be from 1950. it happened in 2007. harassment and abuse and financial hardship still follow any person who is trying to get married while disabled. marriage equality isn't really equal yet.

and i don't know that i can ever put a name to what i'm experiencing. sometimes it just feels... so odd to watch the balance. people are fundamentally uninterested in your identity, but also - like, there's a whole fucking bastion of rabid men and women who want to kill you. your friends roll their eyes you're gay we get it and that is funny but like. when you asked your father do you still love me? he just said go to your room. you haven't told your grandmother. disney is on their 390th "first" gay representation, but also cancelled owl house and censored the fuck out of gravity falls. you actively got bullied for being gay, but your advisor told you to find a different gimmick for your college essay - everyone says they're gay these days.

once while you were having a hard day you cried about the fact that the reason our story is so fucking boring to so many people is that it is so similar. that it is rare for one of us to just, like, have a good experience across the board. that our stories often have very parallel bends - the dehumanization, the trauma, the trouble with trusting again. these become rote instead of disgusting. how bad could it be if it is happening to so many people?

i kiss my girlfriend when nobody is looking. i like her jawline and how her hands splay when she's making a joke. there is nothing new about this story, sappho. i love her like opening up the sun. like folding peace between the layers of my life, a buttercream of euphoria, freckles and laughter and wonder.

my dad knows about her. i've been out to him since i was 18 - roughly four years before the supreme court would protect us. the other day he flipped down the sun visor while driving me to the eye doctor. "you need to accept that your body was made for a husband. you want to be a mother because you were made for men, not women." he wants me to date my old high school boyfriend. i gagged about it, and he shook his head. he said - "don't be so dramatic. you can get used to anything."

the other day a straight friend of mine snorted down her nose about it, accidentally echoing him - she said there are bigger problems in this world than planning a wedding.

#splled ink #writeblr #it's really hard to describe what im feeling

3K notes · View notes

andersonlore · 5 months

Text

thinking about sitting on abby’s lap at a house party, big beefy arm wrapped around your waist lightly. your ex-girlfriend sending a death glare abby’s way across the other side of the room makes her pull you closer against her chest, leaving no space between you two. a blunt going from your lips to hers. the higher she gets the more affectionate and possessive abby becomes.

she’s whispering in your ear, silky voice light and airy, just how much she wants to fuck you. how beautiful you look tonight. she’s pulling at the hem of your shirt, until her palm lays flat against your stomach. skin on skin, your spine shivers. abby loves how much her touch effects you. her fingers are right above your clothed cunt, teasing you endlessly, but not quite giving into what you need.

abby whispers in your ear “it’s cute, you know? your ex thinking she still has a chance. thinking her cunt feels better than mine. thinks she can eat you out better than i can.” her breath is warm as she pants in your ear. it’s uneven, messy — hot.

“how about i fuck you in her bedroom upstairs? do you think she’ll get the message then? maybe if you squirt all over her sheets, yeah? would you like that, baby? yeah, i bet you would. i bet this pussy is dripping for me. i’m barely touching you but, fuck, i can practically smell you.” abby kisses your neck, as you crane it to the side, allowing her access to it.

abby has you standing up, before she grabs your hand ascending up the stairs into your ex-girlfriend’s vacant bedroom.

“i meant what i said. we’re not leaving this room until you’re squirting all over my face. okay, angel?” you nod eagerly, mouth devouring hers. “now, be a good girl and strip for me.” abby smacks your ass and sits on the bed, watching as you discard each item of clothing. she takes off her shirt, knowing you love to see her broad, freckled shoulders.

“remember angel, be as loud as you want. okay? she needs to be reminded exactly who you belong to.” abby manhandles, practically throwing you on the bed before she places herself in between your thighs.

#yeah i just— 🫠#crazy she’s not in my bed rn #rayne writes #lesbian #wlw sapphic #abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby x reader #abby anderson smut #abby the last of us #abby anderson tlou2

2K notes · View notes

coeurify · 5 months

Note

ok but what do you think about making a sex tape with ellie 🧍‍♀️

an: this has been reworked over and over since this request came in in march… so enjoy! its very lovey dovey and sm plot sorry :3

warnings: 18+. filming. jackson!ellie. fingering and oral!r receiving. mostly lovey but some teasing and rough language :3 ellie is obsessed and lovesick and so is reader soooo they make a sex tape. unedited gimme time.

When Ellie first brought up the idea, you had recoiled into her old beat up couch, scoffing as she waved the old camcorder around, a shiteating grin on her face.

“I doubt that thing even works El,” you shrugged your shoulders under the blanket you had stolen off her bed. It wasn't unusual for you to hole up in her small homey garage while she was on patrol.. but what *was* odd was her little.. Souvenir from this particular trip.

“C’mon babe,” Ellie pouted, “Let me try on you..” she wiggled the little camcorder, slipping her hand into the attached grip, flipping open the small screen. Despite your complaints that there was no way it worked, Ellie just could never be wrong. Of course she knew you would fight back, and so she had made sure she fished some batteries too. Of course they came from Maria, the cost three days of stable duty.. But it was worth it for the immune woman, who ducked her nose down and watched the screen flicker to a slow start.

The quality was no better than that of what you could expect from a decades old camera, the film grainy and muffled, each corner covered by symbols Ellie didn’t really understand. But it was no roadblock in the trek of her wants. She smiled when your hands immediately came to slap over your face, voice serious behind your palms as you spoke, “put that down.”

Eventually however, you got a little used to Ellie’s newest fixation. The little hums she made were always a dead give away that she was filming you. During a video game tournament against Dina and Jesse, squished so closely to the two on the floor of the garage that you literally bruised the taller man during a particularly aggressive round of a fighting game. When you were trying your best to compete against your girlfriend’s art skills, tongue poking out the corner of your lips as you worked on a very detailed stick figure that dawned pointed down eyebrows, a large frown and red pencil hair. Even just when you were organizing Ellie’s closet for her, sorting through the tens of sweatshirts with a judging pout on your lips at the mess.

Each time you heard the distinctive sound of El’s attempt at holding back laughs, a small little choked up ‘hmm’ sound. You usually turned your head, quick to flip off your girlfriend-turned-filmmaker. But by the fifth time of catching her smiling behind the little object, you just let her. Whenever you could see her a little less tense, you took it.

Even if that meant starring in all of her little five second shitty clips. Her excuse always, “Just something to look at when I miss you.”

In some ways it made you feel weak legged, slightly lovesick by the thought of Ellie loving you so dearly she just had to steal little memories of you. Every small grin that broke onto freckled cheeks wherever she filmed coaxed you into the haze built up by her new hobby. You became so covered in adoration soon that you resorted to tiny only half mad eye roll when the click of the camera sounded.

Small clips turned into Ellie’s free hand wrapping around your bare waist as you looked in the mirror of her bathroom, the camcorder pressed near your cheek, the auburnette on the other side. You wiped the condensation from the glass, the room still slightly foggy from your shower. “You are not filming me out of the shower,” you huffed. Ellie didn’t answer, the familiar sounding hum stopped only when she pressed a kiss to the base of your neck, lips pulling up into a smile against the skin. “Won’t point too low..” she promised. “You just look so pretty..”

That time, the camera had been closed and discarded on a random bedside table as the two of you stumbled across her floor, giggling as Ellie cursed, stubbing her toe on the corner of the bed she tried to press you down into.

It continued like that, the limits of what you allowed Ellie to film seemed to blur further with every day.. Every curl of her fingers around the object that had become so central to this small haven of her home. Your own neck hot for reasons very different from embarrassment each time the filming light blinked a little too long. The line that you and Ellie had drawn in the sand of your mind was looking a lot less precise with every new memory saved into the device.

Even further along into the passing weeks, you had settled comfortably into yet another night spent at Ellie’s. Your own bedroom had remained untouched for nearly a week this time, bed spread likely just as cold as the air outside. But the garage was warm. The air inside thick as you pressed two fingers against your lips to keep a laugh from spilling out. Glasses of half empty wine, stolen from Tommy and Maria’s cupboard, balanced on the table that sat directly in front of the couch you were cuddled into.

The feeling of wine drunkenness always made you giggly, but your girlfriend parading around her small living space with her camcorder, well, that made you even more prone to bursts of laughs. She had gone from filming and rambling on about what wine you were drinking to zooming into your face, chuckling with breath that smelt like red wine. “See how pretty?” Ellie gaped to no one, stepping closer to you on the couch. The whole garage was painted a light orange from the setting sun outside, but it didn’t stop Ellie.

“El, you’re being a dork,” you chide, shaking your head as more compliments spilt from her. She shoos off the bitten remark with a sound that boarders on a coo, leaning over you as the lens of the camcorder sat close enough to pick up the smaller details of your face the grainy film usually could not.

“I’m just showin’ how perfect you are..” Ellie explains, a softer tone edging into her lungs as she presses her thumb to your cheek, drawing a new heat under the digit. “Perfect cheeks…” her finger traces over your jawline next, and then your chin. Each new landmark of your face that Ellie doted on swept closer and closer to your soft lips. You were no idiot, you saw how the green of her eyes fell to the fat, watched as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and then out again. You made no move to stop what came next.

That next move was your girlfriend’s finger following like a moth to a flame to the one spot that teetered on that blurry line again, thumb pressing softly around the curve of your lips.

“Perfect lips,” Ellie continued, eyes flicking back and forth from the camera screen to you. Soon the pad of her finger is right against your bottom lip, and the room seems to slow.

The both of you hold bated breaths as you mull over your options. But this mulling is no longer than a few seconds, feeling overwriting the more logical side of your brain with a gushy type of tightness in your chest.

Your lips part, eyes meeting the lense as you suck the tip of Ellie’s thumb into your mouth. Lips wrap around the soft skin, salty and cold, and Ellie has little to say other than a slow and breathy, “Fuck..”

Your tongue peaks out just for a moment, lavishing over the wet skin, but Ellie is quick to pull away, leaving your shining lips parted in confusion. The camera falls to her side as her free fingers wrap around your wrist. Just like last time, the little red light twists away from your face. Ellie’s toes step backwards from that oh so mysterious line you two made.

“You know what you do to me, hm?” Ellie questioned as she hauled you up by your arm, a sharp giggle following as she stomped to the bed. The camera is discarded on the table near her pillows as you are thrown back on it.

“No,” you tease, your next giggle cut off by a thump noise that was Ellie pushing you back against grey sheets, you make a sound that almost sounds like “oof” as you try to readjust. Ellie clambers on top of your squirming frame as another sputtered laugh escapes at the messy, and not very seductive, way you two found contact against the creaking mattress.

“Tell me,” you prompt, meeting Ellie’s narrowed green eyes. “Why should I? You’re laughin’ at me.”

Your eyes roll as Ellie’s lips fall into a pout that you want to kiss clean off. “Stop being a baby,” you mutter before letting your impulse win, your hands cupping the freckles cheeks of your girlfriend and pulling her down for a soft kiss. Her pouted lips quickly shape to your own, and you sigh in approval as the hand not holding herself up traces down to your waist.

“I’m not a baby,” your girlfriend complains when your lips part from each other, and you nearly pinch her cheeks from just how lovely you find the whiny drawl in her voice, instead you just shrug, biting back another half bubbled up laugh, “mhm, prove it.”

Ellie does just that. One tug on your hips has you flatter against the bed, one poke at your side has a squeal leaving your mouth. You see how Ellie’s lips quirk up, but before you can admire the sight, she kisses you again.

“So,” Ellie punctuates the word with a kiss, the sort that makes a loud and annoying smacking noise, before trailing her lips to your cheek. “Fuckin” Ellie’s lips find home on your jawline next, and act that has a simmering heat grow between your legs. “Perfect.” Ellie finishes the repeat of what her fingers had done earlier by nudging your head back, lips pressing softer kisses to the flesh of your neck.

Your eyes flicked to the side table, pupils finding the little camcorder as the auburn haired girl bit at your neck, your attention pulled away as your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. “El,” you breathe out, a hand finding her messy hair, nails scraping at her scalp as she bit harsher at the column of your throat. You aren’t sure why her name had been your first thought to say after seeing the camcorder, swallowing as your fingers itched to reach toward the side table.

“Hm? Tell me,” Ellie taunts, words muffled as her next target becomes your collarbone. Your own words biting at you again as your eyebrows furrowed together, watching as your girlfriend’s fingertips find the edge of your shirt, pushing it up as your hand falls from her hair to help take it off.

You pull her back for another kiss before you can even think to answer her question, one you weren’t even sure you could explain. Ellie’s needy fingers come into contact with the fat of your tits, tweaking at the perked nipples, nails pressing in just a little too hard, earning a mewl directly against the spit slick kiss. As Ellie kissed you, you tried your best to focus on the feeling, and not how you were acutely aware of the camera beside you.

Her tongue swiped at your bottom lip, warm against your parting lips as she searched to deepen the kiss, messy sounds of half breaths and kissing all sounded through the small area, your hips rolling up as her knee slotted itself between your trembling thighs.

You can’t help but wonder what this may look like on camera, and as Ellie pulls back, you notice the green of her eyes had dimmed, pupils blown as the pretty eyelashes fanned lightly. The freckles splattered over the apples of her cheeks were particularly prominent tonight, and you suspected it had something to do with the blood that rushed there, rosy and all around causing that same lovesick feeling to creep up your weakened bones.

You wonder if she would look as pretty on that grainy screen too.

Before your mind can even form another thought, Ellie is pulling away from your lips, a small whine the response she received. You can’t complain for long as she moves down, wet lips trailing sloppy kisses to your soft stomach, planting the ember of a growing fire in your groin, causing your hand to flex. Your eyes are pulled by an invisible string to the side of you again, the black material of the camcorder your gaze’s target. Ellie grumbles in response, and a small pinch on your hip has you yelping.

“What’re you looking at? Look at me.”

“Ellie,” you try again, lip quivering nervously as she ushers you to lift your hips, tugging off the bottoms you wore. “Fuckkkk,” she drawls, lost in her own little world as a large hand presses your thighs open. “You see that?” she marvels, a finger pressing against the wet spot on your panties. When she presses, you can feel the fabric stick to you, nearing translucent as she teases, your lips hugging the now soaked panties. It has your hips stirring in their spot, the flame in your stomach burning your liquid feeling stomach. “Ellie,” you sigh again.

Finally her gaze looks up, “Yea?” she asks, her voice softening. You can see the flash of confusion, her hand falling from your thigh as she searched for any apprehension. “You ok?”

“I can’t—“ your voice comes out whinier than you would like to admit, harsh against your ears with a feeling of embarrassment. “Can’t say it,” you finish, eyes moving to the camera sitting on the small wooden table beside you for the umpteenth time.

Ellie follows your eyes, and when you look back to her, there’s a flash of surprise in the shade of green you loved so much. It was replaced quickly, her eyelids drooping as her chin tilted up. “Hm. Don’t know what you mean,” she shrugs, fingers going back to teasing your panty line.

Her tone is laced with sarcasm, the teasing tilt to it is a voice you had heard many times before, many times in this exact position. Ellie liked to make you say things, liked to watch you squirm. You were convinced at this point she got off on your embarrassment, and she probably wouldn’t even deny that.

“Gonna have to spell it out for me, babe,” Ellie added, dipping down to place soft kisses at your hip-bone, pink muscle licking over a mark there.

A low and annoyed sound escapes your throat, and your girlfriend chuckles against your flesh, one finger curling around the fabric of your panties, tugging it down a little ungracefully, your shaking thighs to thank for that.

“Barely even touched you yet and you’re shakin,” Ellie teases again, whispering softly, “Such a pretty pussy..” as the sight of your weepy folds meet her eyes. “This all for me, baby? Or somethin’ else on your mind?”

Your eyes squeeze shut again, hoping to rid your mind of the film reel like thoughts of the camera pressed in Ellie’s hand as she did this. They played over and over behind the black of your eyes, and another frustrated sound fills the garage.

“Not gonna answer?” Ellie was quieter now, repositioning herself, parting your thighs even more. A finger ghosted over your dripping cunt, a hum following the action. “Can’t make you feel better if you don’t use your words, y’know?”

The warm air hit your folds as Ellie exposed you more, thighs burning from the stretch, from the tight grip of one of her hands, fingers digging into and squeezing the fatty flesh.

The blanket beneath your bare ass is no comfort as you move around, and Ellie’s nose bumps against the softness of your thigh. So close, so fucking close to giving exactly what you were searching for, so close to your aching center that your resolve cracks lightly, head tilted back and against the pillow.

“The camera,” you croak, your mouth dry as your lips part, refusing to look at the other girl.

“What about the camera? Look at me and tell me what you want.”

The crease between your eyebrows likely was gaining small droplets of sweat just from how hard you were attempting to avoid this entire fucking conversation, but Ellie kept pressing you further, and who were you to deny her?

“Wanna film this,” you eventually admit, head dipping down to meet her darkened eyes.

“Yea baby? Wanna see what a mess I can make you?” Ellie’s words start to blur together, the idea surely muddling any coherent thoughts together in her mind, licking her lips as she awaits your response.

“Fuck— mmph, yes El. Please.*”

Ellie’s lips curl into a smile that’s more wicked than loving, “Red button starts it, you can hold it.” She instructed, and you scramble to reach your arm out, grasping at the little hand strap connected to the camcorder.

“There you go babe,” she nods, “give it a go, let me see what you’ve got.”

Your fingers are shaking so badly it takes a moment for your thumb to hit the button, to see the soft little red light noting the start of the film.

The grainy screen doesn’t pick up on all the freckles adorning Ellie’s face. The ones that made you feel all gooey, that you wanted to kiss until her face was a pretty shade of red. But it did capture her parted lips, the expanse of your thighs, and your shaky grip tilted the camera down as Ellie’s head dipped between your thighs.

Her mouth latched to your achy cunt, tongue licking up the drops of arousal that covered your slit, pearling on the petal like lips that she spreads with her fingers.

Your arms almost immediately gave out.

Clearly, you were not as skilled in the art of film making as Ellie had been, the camera dropping almost completely to your tummy as Ellie sucked at your cunt. Her eyes flicked up, and she unlatched from the saccharine slick that pooled on her tongue.

“You keep that camera steady,” she muttered, thumb rubbing tiny, tight circles on your throbbing clit. “Or I stop, yea?”

You nod quickly, hips grinding into the slow and steady motion of her thumb, wet with your sticky . You would have agreed to anything she demanded of you right now anyway. Too needy, too desperate to feel her lips on you again.

“ ‘M counting on you to make a pretty movie for me.”

The sentence tapers off as she disappears to the space between your thighs again, and you nearly and truly sob as her nose bumps your clit, her tongue poking experimentally against your hole, feeling as it clenches against nothing.

You know your whimpers and quick little puffs of air are being picked up by the camera, but you’re too focused on keeping the lense directly focused on the auburn tendrils of hair, on where her face was covered by your thighs caging her cheeks in, keeping her in the place she most needed to be, drinking down every single single drop you gave her.

“Ellie,” you whine, toes curling when she presses away from your clit, two long fingers coming to part your folds, admiring the sticky sight.

“Shhh,” Ellie coos, eyes glancing up at the camera again, the burning sight of her fern colored gaze through the tiny screen has your stomach clenching even harsher, hands trembling lightly.

The air on your exposed center lasts no longer than a few seconds, Ellie’s head dipping down as the warm, wet feeling of a glob of her spit trails down your clit, finding your pulsing hole. Her tongue swipes it quickly after, suckling gently at the shiny bubbles. The sound that follows, the loud wet squelch of your wetness mixing with her spit is enough to make you want to cover the speaker of the camcorder, fingers gripping tightly at the little contraption. She focuses on licking at your sopping cunt, her head moving slightly, moaning against your folds.

“Oh—nnh—El!” you cry, your chin trembling in tandem with the hand you try desperately to keep still. Your hips rut up, and Ellie’s face moves up with you, an arm detaching from its place on your squishy thigh to instead wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. Impossibly closer.

You can feel yourself closer, closer to that delicious peak, Ellie’s nose bumping your clit, tongue working mind numbing ministrations on you.

Then she pulls back.

“Fuckin made for me,” Ellie groans, taking a deep breath as she unlatched from your pussy, her fingers sweeping through your puffy lips. “Was fuckin’ made to let me taste you.” Her eyes flick to the camera, her tone louder than usual— a little less breathy. She wanted the microphone to hear.

You cry pathetically at the loss of her tongue, lip quivering.

“Tell me,” she demands, voice overpowering the slick noises of her now shiny fingers rubbing between your folds, the tips pausing at your pulsing hole, dipping only a little in, teasing. “Tell me this pretty pussy was made for me.”

And then Ellie is reaching forward, letting go of her grip on your hips to grab harshly at the camera, maneuvering it to show your trembling body, her fingers pressing open your lips, giving the camera a pretty close up of your soaked cunt. She croons at the sight, her fingers pressing together to land a short and sharp slap against the swollen lips. “S’pretty.”

“Ellie,” you choke, chest heaving up and down as the embarrassment creeps up, making that coil in your tummy even tighter.

“Tell me,” she says again, smoothly.

Desperate to have her fingers opening you up, to have her filling you and breaking that tightly wrapped tension in your groin, you break.

“I’m yours el. ‘m all yours, was made for you,” your voice is restrained, quiet as you chew at your lips, stirring in your spot as she continues the teasing.

“What else? Tell me more, baby,” she insists, one long finger sinking into you, hissing at the feeling of your cunt molding to her, perfect for her as you clench.

“A—ah!” your voice is a sweet little cry. You grind down into the feeling, searching for more. “It’s yours El,” you babble— louder now, head thrown back. Ellie captured the moment with a quick tilt up of the camera. “M-my pussy s’all yours.”

“Fuck,” Ellie breathes, her own, usually steady camera hand, wavering as you speak. She grants you with another finger as she thrusts harshly into you, a shriek pulled from your open mouth.

“So—s-so fucking perfect,” she grunts, curling her fingers gently, hitting that squishy spot in your walls that has you keening, eyes rolling back. “Love this pussy so much, shit—shit, love you so much.”

“Love you too El,” you blubber, your chin tilting down to stare directly at the camera for a second. That awkwardness, the fear from the early days of when she’d film you completely gone as you moan pathetically, eyes shiny with complete and utter adoration.

She only pistons her fingers into you harder, faster, relishing in how you moan, how your toes curl and your chin wobbles. You’re the prettiest fucking thing she’s ever seen.

The camera points down to where she’s thrusting into you, watching through the screen as you meet her thrusts, your hips moving against the grey sheets, your thighs squeezing her hand in between them as you sob out.

Ellie meets your eyes, stealing your attention from the camera she keeps focused on your squirming frame, pounding her fingers into your cunt. “Cum for me, you can do it baby, go on. Give me a pretty show.”

And you do. Your sweaty back lifts off the bed with a sharp sob as the cord in your tummy snaps, gushing around Ellie’s fingers, pulsing around her as she thrusts shallowly, riding you through it.

Your vision goes black for a second as you heave, hands shaking as you reach out for Ellie, fingers looking to curl around her warm skin.

You don’t even notice the off click of the camera, of how she lets it softly drop to the side as she climbs up your shaky form, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“So pretty,” Ellie hums, “Prettiest movie star ever,” she mumbled, and you pour your lips— getting another soft kiss as she continues to plant tiny loving pecks around your face.

“Never should’ve let you keep that camera,” you whisper gently, smiling right when she does against the corner of your mouth that she pecks at.

“Yea fuckin’ right, we just made the movie of the year babe.”

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fic #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fluff

3K notes · View notes

atyourmerci · 30 days

Text

☀︎To the light is to the darkness✩

Abby X reader X Ellie

Prologue to vengeance (can be read alone)

☀︎ ☀︎

Summary: Abby is your childhood best friend, you did everything together, taught each other everything. You were utterly infatuated with each other until Ellie Williams enters your world.

Warning: smut, MDNI, porn w lots of plot, innocence arc, mutual pining, lots of sexual tension, mutual masturbation (in the same room, together), fingering if you squint, useless lesbians, lesbian love triangle, abby needs a hug, phoebe bridgers as her own warning, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader

A/N: okay so holy fuck did I get carried away with this one. I didn’t want to leave yall on a cliffhanger but this dynamic deserves more and I don’t want to rush through it. I hope yall enjoy. This chapter is mostly just abby but there will be lots more Ellie in the next chapter promise :)

✩ ✩

“Someone you couldn’t lose. You said we’re not together, so now when we kiss I have anger issues.”

She asked when it had all started. The truth was you weren’t really sure. There was no definitive date or period of time that signified the beginning or end of it.

A relationship that felt more of interlacing two souls into one that resided in two structures. Shared autonomy of mind, breath, word, and body. Unspoken feelings, touches, and stares.

What started in green fields of pink flowers and brown roots ended in dark rooms and pining embraces. Hand shakes turning into interlaced fingers, laughter filled glances turning into tense stares, and experimental pecks turning into open mouthed pants.

The first time you meet abby was at school at 15. Bright eyed and bushy tailed still untainted from the reality of the world around you. You were quite shy in those years, keeping yourself away from the wild hairs of children ready to grow up and take charge. You were okay with the stability of childhood, the sticky sweet feeling of safety and uncharted terror.

Before Abby’s dad had died, before the muscles and long locks of golden blonde hair she was reserved too. Abby was wrapped in a bubble of comfort, a loving community that doted on her. She felt no need to join the crowd of chaos when she had everything she needed.

Well she thought she did…and then she met you.

In class you had your face shoved into a notebook doodling away of ferns and dandelions you had seen in the fields early that day. If it were up to you, you’d spend every last dying breath in the fields, soaking in sunlight and trailing your fingers through the rows of flowers.

Abby sat next to you in class, always too shy to speak up to you. You always seemed so busy, either reading, drawing, or with your head in the clouds, never truly listening to the lecture ahead. She admired your creativity, attention to detail, and the utter sense of unawareness to your surroundings. She wondered why you didn’t talk to the others, you were so inviting, so pretty. She once wished to look like you, how effortlessly magnificent you looked.

She grew too curious, over zealous at the thought of being close to you, understanding you. She knew she had to speak up.

“H-hey you draw pretty cool- I mean- it’s really good…what you draw.”

You had never taken more than a glance at the freckled girl until then. She always seemed just as busy as you, so you never bothered her.

You let out a bellied laugh at the now crimson red faced girl- completely embarrassed by her attempt at recognition.

And that was that. The two of you were inseparable, attached at the hip from then on out.

Abby seemed to understand your weird quirks and odd fascinations. Even when she didn’t, she was there open minded and wide eyed to hear your lengthy ramblings on about nothingness.

Sometimes it felt like you did most of the talking. Not that it was one sided or you wouldn’t let her butt in, but rather she was completely enamored by what you thought. Sometimes all she wanted to do was to hear you talk, you were her favorite person, the own mold of herself.

She wanted to think what you thought, feel what you felt, see the world through your eyes.

As the years went on you only seemed to grow closer to abby as she grew fonder of you.

Some could call it an obsession, the way you treated each other. Not a single thought went by that the other didn’t know. If you were there, so was abby. If you knew something, so did she.

Everyday she would follow you to the fields after school, your special escape you’d learn to share with the other half of your being.

You’d make her lay across the flower ridden fields so you could draw her glistening hair kissed by the whisk of wind. She let her hair grow longer since you’d ask to braid it for her every morning. She liked it short but she wanted to let you have room to make intricate designs and lace them with weeds you’d found.

Abby would playfully nudge you when you’d draw the hump on her nose in the drawings, but you loved it too much to not appreciate it. You loved all the things she couldn’t in herself.

You two spent hours out in the field daily, even when it rained you’d make her dance around like fairies as mud splattered across your shins. Anything you wanted, she’d do as long as it was with you.

That’s when you asked her to try kissing, she’d obliged.

“Have you ever…kissed anyone?” You ask staring off into the cloud painted sky, tall grass framing your bodies.

She lets out a breathy giggle, “no… you would know if I did.”

You shrug, shoulder crashing gently into hers, “I don’t know, maybe it was too embarrassing to say.”

She trails off, “h-have you?”

“No dumbass you would know…” you push your shoulder into her turning to give her a toothy smile, “what if I’m not good when a boy kisses me?”

Her eyes remained trained onto the pillowy cloud, “you can try on me- I-if you want to.”

It was a good idea, she wasn’t going to judge you, she was your best friend, she was only there to help.

“Okay.” And without a second thought your upper body shot up and lent over hers, pressing your lips into her plush pink ones. It was gentle, only a placement amongst the flesh, yet so charged. Butterflies fluttered through your stomach and up to your throat, something you had only felt once before when you and abby went swimming.

Closeness you thought. Being close to someone causes that. How nice it was to be so close to your favorite person, maybe one day you could feel close to someone again.

After that you continued to experiment kissing. At sleepovers you’d talk about the boys you wanted to kiss, then show each other how you would kiss them. It turned into an innocent routine, pecking her before she would leave, kissing her in the fields when you felt the butterflies.

You’d told her about them- the fluttering in your stomach. Whenever you felt them she told you that she wanted to feel them too. Transferring them through the soft pink flesh, she’d say she’d feel them after.

Soon she’d tell you when she got them, to which you’d return the gesture back. As time went on, the butterflies came more often.

People were starting to notice the relationship, started talking about how close the two of you were. You’d shoo off the irrational comments and over zealous accusations, but abby never did. She just didn’t respond.

“Who am I to ask for more? But you’re breathing in my open mouth. You’re the gun in my lips that will blow my brains out.”

Abby started spending the night daily, she practically lived in your room at that point. After her dad died your relationship grew stronger than ever. In such a treacherous time she clung to the only person who truly understood her. Many a nights she spent huddled into a ball in your lap weeping as you smoothed the hair behind her ear and rubbing circles into the grown muscles in her back.

Abby had taken to working her emotions out in physical labor. Now being a solider full time out of school she had grown muscular and more rough. Her heart was still the same for you, but had grown caged off to the people around you.

Her pleasantries for the rest of the community had grown stale, only allowing a few to get near her. But you… there was always an indefinite spot inside her for you.

Since abby was always around now, in the darkness of every night, privacy had flown right out the window. Not that you had minded- there wasn’t much of really anything abby didn’t know or hadn’t seen.

But when that eery sense of familiarity crept up, when the butterflies would come at night.

She had started out sleeping on the extra bed in your room. Before she had practically moved in she’d sleep with you, but since her stay turned to no vacancy she’d taken to given you the last sense of space, even when you hadn’t asked.

In the middle of darkness as the crickets chirped outside the window you’d tell her the feeling had come back, and she’d always agree, and the room would fall silent again.

“Abby?” You call out to a darkened room, illuminated by the shine of the moon.

“Yeah?” She’d call back from the other side.

“Do you ever…fix the feelings of the butterflies. Like make them go away?”

“Uh yeah- sometimes…when it gets bad.”

“I think mine are…bad right now,” it felt embarrassing almost, there was nothing she could do to help, fix your issue. Transferring the butterflies to abby only made them worse sometimes, and you were boiling.

“M-mine too,” she admits.

“You can fix it- if you need to.”

“A-re you going to stop yours?”

“Is that okay?” You say reluctantly into the tense air coating you. Every slight move felt with a million nerves.

“Mhmm,” she responds, a rustling heard coming from her direction.

Soft hums filled the air from the feeling of release you had allowed yourself in the presence of your best friend. Abby’s breathy moans would only follow quickly after your own, never before.

Dual release become a routine. Allowing the sticky sweet sensations of climaxing in the same bedroom of your other half. It became another thing you shared with her, another check on the list of the endeavors you’d participated in with her.

Talks of the butterflies and the unleashing of them never left those four chipping walls. Some things were meant for just Abby’s ears. All best friends must do the same. You’d never heard of others talk of sorts so you sealed your lips, a secret kept like a bird in a cage.

As you both had grown accustomed to the routine things gradually got more intense. Sometimes you couldn’t get the butterflies to fly away even when you tried for hours, panting out whimpers of frustration. Even when they would go away sometimes they would crept back in immediately, your body unable to be satiated.

Abby begun sleeping in the bed with you, to calm the frustrating unnerve you felt after no avail. She’d tell you she wish she could help you, make them go away. She’d do anything to make you happy.

That’s when you started touching yourselves next to each other. The routine was upheld for so long that it felt natural to do it even when she was right next to you. First fully covered, then in undergarments, to finally completely bare.

Seeing Abby’s bare flesh only made it worse. You weren’t stupid, the pieces were falling into place before your eyes. But you hadn’t seen anyone else naked before, maybe it would be the same. Her flesh so pale, her nipples shades of pale pink roses, and the hair that trailed down to her folds as golden as wheat. You had never seen something so magnificent, so beautifully crafted.

That was something you didn’t share with her. The drawings of her bare flesh. You made sure to memorize each chisel, line, and freckle to be as accurate as possible once you got to your notebook. With every piece of her revealed opening thousands of opportunities to draw her art. She was so fucking beautiful.

“When was the first time?” The auburn girl had asked you.

It all had meshed into a blur, what had happened and when it did. When you and abby had started sleeping together it started on opposite ends. Heat not close enough to sting your flesh but the air still tense enough to be cut clean with a blade. As time grew on and the routine becoming daily, the space between you started to close in. Knees brushing as your legs wavered, arms transferring sticky sweat in the blistering heat of arousal.

The inevitable placement of foreheads touching as you watched each other fall apart, watching the butterflies flutter out of her throat with every pant.

From what you could call the ‘beginning’ of sorts, rather an act of mercy, came from her.

You found yourself in the familiar position of unnerve. Rubbing aimless quick circles on your abused clit. It became a matter of principle at the point, needing to fulfill the urge even knowing the outcome would leave you more helpless than before. Abby’s butterflies were far gone, now rubbing lazy stripes down her slit in attempt to not let you feel alone. She never wanted you to feel like she wasn’t completely enthralled by your every move.

Your leg sprawled across her own, wide open, bucking your hips into the air as you let out frustrated grunts, eyes sealed shut in concentration. She just watched. She loved watching you touch yourself. Abby felt like the luckiest girl in the world getting to watch you, kiss you, feel you. She wanted to feel more of you, every atom in your body she’d kiss if you’d allow it.

“Let me help” she said, eyes trained on your open mouth.

Your brain was too fuzzy to even comprehend the depth of the act, so pent up and eager.

“Mhmm,” was all you could muster up. As her calloused fingers transferred from her skin to your abdomen, your body jolted up. You had never been touched by another. Not like this. She took her time running the tips of her fingers from your side to the mound, taking your hand and moving it your thigh so she could replace it with her own.

Something deep in your belly erupted when you felt her fingers meet your clit. A flock of doves released from their cage, a gasping goldfish meeting water. An exaggerated sigh of relief came out as a depraved moan. Every nerve in your body heightened by her gentle touch.

She drew cautious and attentive swipes across the newly swollen bud, watching for when your breath would hitch.

“You’re so warm,” she said studying your face as it contorted in pleasure. Your chin raised high, burying your scalp into the frilly pillows below. She had then studied the flesh around your neck, oh why had she never noticed that. How thin the skin was there, how close she could get to you in that space.

“I-it feels b-better when you do it,” you admit to her, water in her hands, hips grinding into the soft touch of her. “Y-yeah really?” She says, perking up, so pleased with knowing she could make you feel better. She’d do anything to make you feel better.

You let your stagnant hand run down her chiseled chest to meet her mound, her sticky slit pooling at her core. You meant to return the favor, an eye for an eye. “It’s okay- just let me help you.”

You shook your head in agreement, but let your hand rest on the pulsing flesh, you wanted to feel her like she felt you.

With every gentle circle she took you closer to release. It was so much faster when she did it. When you did it together before you would lie there for hours flicking at the raw skin to no avail, but in minutes she had you tipping at your edge.

Her strokes felt akin to the ones on your notebook, gentle and cautious direction, seeking a desirable outcome. You’d thought to picture this, able to recreate this on paper shielded from her eyes. What would she think if she saw them? Maybe you’d grown too fond of the other half of your heart.

“Abby!” You scream out, nearing your pending release.

“Y-yeah? D-does it feel okay- are you okay?” She perks up in concern, helplessly worried she had hurt you.

“Yes- Yes! It- it’s coming,” you pant out, body slick with sweat as your arousal pools below you. A sloppy mess of bodies interlaced with remorseless pleasure.

“Let me feel them, I want to feel them,” abby says inches from your face, intently watching the contortions of your face below her. The butterflies, oh how she wished she could flutter in your tummy as they do so effortlessly.

You cave shamelessly, pressing into the soft pink flesh. You try to keep them stable, but as you reach the cliffs edge you can’t help but moan pathetically into her throat. Your hips thrust into the calloused fingers, chasing the lasting feelings of her, escaping your doom and passing the burden through your lips onto hers.

You did draw of this, and every time after that. It became an obsession, mental images snapshotted to accuracy for replication later.

The routine increased in frequency and intensity. Exploring each other’s most sacred places. She would let you touch her sometimes, but only when she was touching you. Abby seemed more interested in your pleasure than her own. But she cared about you, she never wanted you unsettled. She wanted to be your salvation.

“I ask you how you’re doing and I let you lie. But we don’t have to talk about it, I can walk you home and practice method acting. I’ll pretend being with you doesn’t feel like drowning.”

“Does she make you feel them?”

She asked when it had all started. The truth was you weren’t really sure. There was no definitive date or period of time that signified the beginning or end of it.

Ellie Williams was so…vulgar, erratic, a ticking time bomb. The pieces of the puzzle connected at last when you lied eyes on the auburn haired girl.

She had entered the WLF as gentle as a bomb to a building. Fiery hot attitude, a chip on her shoulder, and drowning green eyes. At first glance she utterly captivated your ever fleeting thoughts.

When she first walked through the corridors of the stadium your eyes fixed on her, staring rudely at her every move. “Who is that, the girl?” You ask the unfazed blonde next to you, too busy working at sharpening a blade, “names Ellie, they say she’s trouble. By the looks of her, checks out.”

“What did she do? Why is she here?” You continue your glare, taking note of the pink scare rippled along the crest of her eye.

You had never drawn anyone other than abby, but the girls features were so strong, the strokes would come naturally in your grasp. A secret muse possibly, even from a far.

“I don’t know- stay away from her. She reeks of trouble,” she’d remark, finishing off the blade and leading you off to a pending mission.

You tried, you really did. She was so compelling, and you? You were a bee to honey. Was she soft unlike her features? Did she speak of the world beyond her? Did she like to watch the clouds mesh into unlikely objects? Did she know of the butterflies and their ever present existence in your lungs?

Your notebook grew of only her, the short frayed hair, the pink scare, the freckles that littered her face. So effortlessly magnificent she was, unknowingly your own secret work of art.

Until abby found them.

Related to this work

Song lyrics: casual , waiting room , cool about it

Moodboard

If you enjoy the childhood best friend trope with abby highly recommend this fic by @kieranscaren she writes beautifully and gave me great inspiration for this work:)

Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson5 @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed @shewantstoknow @a-little-bit-of-everybody

864 notes · View notes

ukigun · 26 days

Text

੭୧ more ellie ; before patrol.

⋆𖦹. : waking ellie up before her patrol. ( from my hcs list )

this is my first time attempting this, so smile n nod pls..

cw: sfw. no usage of y/n. joel is still alive (slight mention). pet names like “baby.” a little scattered..

“baby?” you whisper so faintly amidst the stillness of the room, you aren’t even sure you really spoke. your eyes caress the silhouette of her messy hair before enveloping her with gentle care.

pressing one kiss to her temple, you try again. “els?”

she stirs, her own soft murmur escaping her lips, her words utterly lost in a haze of sleep before she nuzzles closer to you. as much as it swarms you with warmth, as much as you want to cuddle her up and sleep for eternity, you have to get her up.

if she wakes from anything other than you, her mood is pissy all day, so you do this out of courtesy to her patrol partner.

“c’mon els, you have patrol.” you speak in a whisper, lacing your tone with sweetness, a tender plea. “wake up, baby.” you pepper gentle, scattered kisses along her freckled skin. each kiss a testament to the quiet intimacy of your morning ritual.

the smallest hint of a sleepy smirk begins tugging at the corners of her lips, “really, kisses as bribery?” her voice still heavy with the remnants of sleep.

“well it got you up, right?” you retort with a playful, snarky tone before you seal the moment with a tender kiss to her lips now that she’s awake to reciprocate.

you watch as she gets up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before fixing and smoothing down her hair.

“you’re.. gonna go like that?” you ask, only half teasing.

ellie turns around, a playful scoff released from her lips. “excuse you, it’s just patrol.”

you snicker before getting out of bed too. “yeah, but presentability still matters, els.” you retaliate while fishing out her green jacket from the closet.

handing her the jacket, she accepts with a soft smile lingering on her lips. without a word, she embraces you with a series of tender kisses to your lips. “you know i could stay, skip out on patrol.” she teases, her words whispered between kisses.

letting her very tempting suggestion linger in the air for just a moment, you’re ‘ready’ to pull back from her embrace. “we’ll have plenty of kisses later, els,” you playfully push on her shoulder. “get your shoes on and go.”

she groans and moves towards the collection of shoes, her fingers deftly snatching her boots as she slips them on her feet. “no fun at all.” she teases, her tone laced with mock disappointment.

you roll your eyes with a small smile, “you know joel will never let you live it down if you’re late again.” you remind her.

with a resigned sigh, she stands and adjusts her jacket. “yeah yeah, i’m going” she relents, her voice carrying a hint of reluctancy as she prepares to leave the comfort of your cozy haven.

you follow closely behind as she heads for the door. your hand falls over hers when she reaches for the handle.

with a tender smile, you lean in for one last kiss which you intended to be brief, but of course she elongates it. breaking off with a soft laugh, you gently tease her. “okay, okay. time to go.”

she smiles and leaves, closing the door gently behind her, leaving you alone in the now quiet shared space. you sigh and return to the bed, the absence of her presence palpable.

now, you have to wait forever for her return so you can be filled in on the patrol details.

628 notes · View notes

hypnos333 · 2 months

Text

His little Fawn’s

Alastor x Wife! Reader

Synopsis: You yourself is a doe and gave birth to twins with another or more baby’s on the way

You were laying in both yours and Alastors bed both in undergarments as you wrapped yourself around your husband. Luckily after your free time he bathed you with roses and scented french vanilla so you wouldn’t feel dirty once awoken.

You noticed him slowly awakening “Good morning beloved, how did you sleep?” You ask cheerfully as you touch his ears stroking one of them making him let out a soft sigh before nuzzling into your neck where bite marks and hickeys were everywhere on you.

He slowly rubbed your stomach as the now showing the baby bump, “I slept wonderfully My dear, how about you-” That’s when you both hear tiny footsteps slamming your door open.

“Mama!!!” Your three year old son exclaimed jumping on the bed to hug you but before he could Alastor held him before your son could do any harm to you or the baby. “Now Now Aydin we wouldn’t want to hurt your mother or your siblings” Alastor scolded with a smile making Aydin pout before making grabby arms at you as he was close to tears

“Aww my sweet baby” You cooed at your son as you gently took him away from Alastor before cuddling him and rocking back n forth.

“Papa, Mama?” Your daughter called out as she rubbed her eyes tiredly, Alastor smiled at her before picking her up as she laid her head on his shoulder still wanting to sleep

“Hello my little fawn, how did you sleep?” Alastor asked his daughter as she yawned.

“It was good papa!” She said cheerfully before glancing at you holding Aydin as he drifts to sleep. “How did you sleep mama?” you daughter asked as she was settled next to you so Alastor can go make breakfast for you and the babies.

“I slept good my little Aurora” You answered her before kissing her cheek.

Both your babies cuddled against you can see they have his hair type but your eyes and white freckles but also his sharp teeth. They also still have ears and a tail of course, They don’t have their uncontrollable smile yet but you could tell it’s coming soon.

And Soon they will have their own powers to control.

“Here you are my doe” Alastor said placing a tray with Pancakes and Jasmine tea, You thanked him with a kiss on his lips before he woke up the kids to go eat breakfast.

You both watched them as they rushed to go eat as you chuckled, “What seems to be funny my dear?” Alastor asked smirking at you.

“They really are your Fawns, You three are just so similar in different ways but get bored easily and cause mischief” You explained as he smiled at you softly before taking your hand then kissing each of your knuckles.

“thank you for gifting me with this and our fawns My Doe” He said genuinely as he finally kiss your lips slowly.

“Of course My love, I love you to hell and back and Any day these fawns will be part of this lovely family” You spoke gently as he smiles in excitement.

“Yes and i’m sure Aurora and Aydin would be great brothers and sisters to their new siblings” Alastor added as kissed you baby bump.

Oh he just couldn’t wait till this family is expanded

#hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x demon reader #alastor x you #alastor x listener #alastor imagine

1K notes · View notes

unamused-boss · 5 months

Text

Lipstick Stains

Billy Hargrove x Harrington FemReader

Summary: There has been some new gossip floating through Hawkins High. The gossip being that Billy has a lipstick stain that just so happens to match a certain girl's iconic shade.

....................................................................

You were a Harrington. You had a certain standing that you had to keep cause of the expectations of your parents. One of those expectations were not making out with Billy Hargrove in his car in the back of the school parking lot during lunch. But your parents were never home so you didn't really give a damn.

"Billy we have to go back into the school at some point." You said releasing your lips from his. As you tried to pull back he pulled you in for another quick kiss.

"Oh come on, we don't have to." He smirked to you.

"Listen Mr. Bad Boy, I know you don't like school but I have a test." You said to him. He gave you a small pout at your response to which you just laughed at him. "You also messed up my lipstick." You said as you flipped the visor down to use the mirror to reapply your dark red lipstick.

"That's not the only thing I can mess up." He joked. You just gave him the look, he knew the look. It didn't need a name.

"Well Hargrove I have to get going." You brought yourself close to kiss his neck then up to the apple of his freckled cheeks. You collected you things to go back into the school before the bell. Before you shut the door you look back at Billy to see the two kiss marks that you left on him. You just smiled at him.

"Love ya, see you later." You said then shut the door to go to the school.

Billy continued with his day like usual. Thinking that nothing would go out of the ordinary. He knew he was hot shit so people were staring at him as perusal but he didn't know what they were staring at. In each class he had stares his way, to which he had to tell some off for looking too long.

"Nice job man." Tommy Hagan laughed as he patted his back. Billy was just confused about what he was talking about but he continued as nothing was wrong. The bell rang through the halls to signal that the school day was over. Billy made his way to the doors top the parking lot to leave when he saw a certain Steve Harrington staring him down from his locker.

"You got a problem Harrington?" He asked.

"Yeah, not with you though." Steve replied slamming his locker shut to go find a certain sister of his. Billy didn't know that, he was just confused and thought nothing of it. He finally was able to make it to his Camaro to wait for Max. Students around him were still looking at him. Some girls looking in distaste, not at him but at the kiss marks on his cheeks. Some guys were just laugh in congrats to him. Billy just wanted to get the hell out and get Max home so he can go see his girlfriend. Billy looked over to see a certain red head making her way over to his car.

"Get in shit-bird, I got places to be." He said as he got in the drivers seat while Max got in the passenger seat. She just stared at him, more than she would usually. Which is not at all. Billy glanced at her a few times.

"What?" He asked annoyed with her staring.

"What's on your face?" She asked. Billy was confused until he thought back to lunch. He grabbed his sun visor to look himself in the mirror to see the two kiss marks on him. Just as he thought, one on his cheek and the other on his neck. He just laughed what he was looking at.

"Well that explains a Lot." He sighed starting his car to drive away.

Later that day Billy was able to make it to the Harrington house hold. Instead of parking down the street, he parked in the driveway. Instead of climbing through the window of his girlfriends bedroom, he simply knocked the front door of her house. Which, unfortunately, the other Harrington answered. He and Steve just stared at one another for a moment.

"Hargrove."

"Harrington."

"What are you doing here?"

"I think you know why exactly I'm here, or you don't."

"I do know why you're here." Steve stated sternly.

"Then tell me, why am I here?" Billy gabbed at him with a smirk playing on his face.

"Can you guys stop having a dick measuring contest for once." Your voice was heard in a very much over it tone. "Get out of here Steve."

"But-" You stopped him from continuing.

"Eh, I don't wanna hear any more then I already have. You're being a Buttface." You sassed at him. "Now I would like to talk to my boyfriend."

Steve just rolled his eyes and sighed. Walking away from his enemy and his sister in the same door way. You turn your head back to Billy with a grin on your face.

"So what are you doing here, handsome."

"Well, I am here to see my girlfriend that I have to have a small chat about." His voice going a slight octave lower. Something that you loved.

"And what do you have to chat about?" You stilled teased at him.

"Well I made out with this gorgeous woman at lunch, and after I thought my day would go by like usual. But I had people staring at me all day. I didn't know why until I looked into the mirror to find that the exact pretty girl I was kissing left some marks on me." He explained to you. "Now I am at said pretty girls house to get a reason why she did that."

"Well I think she just wanted to have a bit of fun with you, if you ask me."

"Well as much as I love that, I think I would love to have some fun with her right now."

"Well you'er gonna have to wait on that, handsome." You said." Big Bro ain't to happy with me, I've been getting an ear full for the past hour."

"I can wait." He reassured. "I will always wait for you, gorgeous." You just smiled at him and dragged him into your house.

"Is he staying long?" Steve's distant voice was heard.

"Shut up Steve." You yelled out to him. "Like I said, ear full all day."

You and Billy just laughed at the situation. But at least you both can enjoy each others company in the end.

...................................................................

I hope y'all enjoyed this. Sorry if it is short. I know I haven't been to active, writing wise, lately. I'm trying to get through school right now.

I will try to get more out for Boots and Trumpets, and Practically Magic later.

Thank you for reading.

#billy hargrove #stranger things #billy hargove imagine #fanfiction #steve harrington #billy hargrove x fem reader #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #dustin henderson #eddie munson #eleven hopper #max mayfield #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things billy #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #demogorgon

1K notes · View notes

tarjapearce · 3 months

Text

Old Friend

Summary: You meet an old friend in your shopping trip with the family.

Nothing but a slice of life, fluff, bit of angst and a jealous Miguel ~

Whenever it was restock day, Costco or Walmart would be the main places to go.

You'd get the list, Miguel would secure Rosie to his chest, as Benjamin would get inside your cart. Gabi would walk alongside you or her beloved Papa, pushing his cart.

Each would take separate ways, you'd get the meats and veggies, as Miguel would get the rest, powder detergent, cleansing products, and snacks.

"Mama, can I have these?" Benjamin swayed his feet pointing at the colorful packaging of dinosaur shaped nuggets.

"Course you can, mi niño. Which one you want?"

"I tried the red one last time, I'll get the purple"

Benji's boyish voice echoed around you as you stopped on the frozen meals section.

"Alright, purple it is."

You picked the purple package, a triceratops and a T-Rex on the cover. Then, filled the cart with different sort of meats, Miguel's favorite cuts, hams and of course, lots of canned jalapeños. Orange, pineapple, and cranberry juice, a couple of sodas and finally you got to go to the cereal and coffee aisle.

Miguel was running out of coffee in his office, and back at home you only had a couple of packages. It reminded you the time Miguel nearly had an anxiety attack when he found out he had ran out of the black liquid gold, even in his secret stash.

For some reason the brand he always bought was put on the top shelves. With a huff you looked around to see if there was any ladder, but upon finding none, You stepped on the bottom shelf, trying to get the six pack in the edge, but obviously, you couldn't reach it.

Benjamin giggled when you missed, as revenge you smothered his face in kisses, earning you a loud and bubbling squeal.

"Here, let me." A deep voice rumbled behind you. Your eyes widened at the all too familiar face before you. Reaching effortlessly for the coffee packaging.

"Richard" you mumbled while taking the package, to then put it on the cart.

"Hey" His hand waved softly. Clad in a hoodie, bermudas and sneakers. A little gold band hugging his ring finger. Dull, as his overall aura.

Despite the years coming through, he hadn't lost his kind green eyes. Some wrinkles adorned his matured face. Ricky was only two years older than you, and still had some white hairs poking out here and there.

He sported a short and well trimmed beard, hair parted and neatly arranged to a side. His eyes darted to the boy that undoubtedly resembled alot like you, except for his curious big and round red-ish eyes.

"Whose this little champ?" The smile on his face was coy, but genuine.

"It's my boy, Benjamin."

A proud beam stretched on your face as your hand caressed Benjamin's head, some of his curls trapping your fingers.

"Nice to meet you, champ." Ricky stretched his hands towards him and Benjamin shook it, a tad nervous.

"He definitely has your curls."

You smiled, eyes diverting behind him, ready to meet his partner but, there was none, just his half cart full of car appliances, some diary products and snacks.

"My goodness, you have a beard now."

Ricky chuckled and scratched it. He was a handsome man, undoubtedly. Good and well worked physique. Lean muscles, athletic and healthy looking. Green eyes a shade darker than green apples, pretty lips you liked biting and a healthy tan on his skin, despite him being a pale guy. A couple of freckles adorned his nose.

"And you've got a kid now." there was a bit of disbelief in his tone.

"Three actually. Funny how we ended up doing the things we always said we wouldn't do right away."

Richard gave a soft laugh.

"At least we look good. And I'm sure you're a great mom. How long has it been?"

"I don't know, I suck at math. But I do know it's more than ten years." You pushed the cart to get the cereals and naturally he helped you to get them. Eyes looking for Miguel in every chance you had.

"How have you been?" He tensed a bit at the question, not expecting your openness to talking so casually, specially when your finger shone with a golden band. He graduated college and never saw you again, until now. Gentle and caring as always. You hadn't changed, and he was glad.

"As usual. Existing, trying to keep myself afloat after, uh... my divorce." His mouth pressed in a tight line, green eyes looked away for a second, unable to meet your stare. Ashamed.

Your eyes blinked at his reply. Clearly surprised by such thing. Face falling with worry. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Richard shook his head, and gave a nonchalant shrug.

"Things happen. It's one of those situations that get your eyes open for good." Ricky rubbed his neck awkwardly and you offered a little reassure with a hand on his shoulder, patting it softly.

"Hey, you've got this. I know it's been a while, but I'm sure your problem solving skills are still top notch."

Hw chuckled, almost sympathetic at himself, "I don't even know anymore, if I'm honest. But if you say so."

The voices in the aisles kept indistinct, each in their own world, mingling with the upbeat background music.

"Also... I'm sorry." His eyes remained on yours. Something he'd always do when speaking truthfully.

Your brow quirked, "Whatever for?"

Ricky's hands squeezed the insides of his pockets as he spoke.

"For breaking up with you. Specially like that. It was a d-" He caught his tongue before continuing with the french before Benjamin, "It was wrong of me."

You could only stare at him, and he recoiled further in his spot, shoulders hunched, eyes on the floor.

"If something's worth saying, I... divorced cause my mom also ruined it for me."

You frowned, confused and he shook his head.

"So I cut ties, went to therapy and yeah." He reached out for a three pack of granola for himself, and another for you after you pointed at the brand.

"I'm sorry, I'm kind of confused as to why would you think I'd be happy to know something awful happened to you, Richard?"

Richard's brow puckered. You really hadn't changed at all. Even after he dumped you a few days before Christmas eve.

"I... don't know? Thought you'd hold a grudge for what I did."

"A grudge?" You tittered and this threw him off guard, "Not to sound mean or anything, but I didn't even remember what had happened until now. You know I'm forgetful."

You both chuckled as he nodded.

"Yeah, kinda wondered if you'd lose your head too if it wasn't attached to your body."

You gasped while mocking offense, "That was rude."

You grabbed a couple of cereal boxes Benjamin pointed at.

"But true. In all seriousness, I'm glad that at least something great came after me. Is he a good man?, wait..." He shook his head softly, "Stupid question Of course he is, you married him."

You beamed and this made his chest swell in a mix of happiness and pride. You deserved it after all he also put you through.

"You'll find someone, I know so." It always made him wondered why he was stupid like that to allow his mother come in between.

"I'll give myself a couple of years to heal first. Wanna make sure I don't repeat things over."

It was your turn to get that pride sensation in your chest. Knowing he was making a good progress out of his mother's shadow also made you happy. You out of everyone knew how hard it was like.

"Hope they're ready to listen country music nonstop in your car." He rolled his eyes.

"I know you hated the genre, that's why I always played them"

Your lips pursed with faked anger as he tittered, however, Ricky cleared his throat off the laughing upon watching a behemoth of a man, approaching from behind. Red eyes set on him. A shudder crawled on his skin as he gulped. The baby on his chest did little to appease the intimidating aura around him.

"Mama!" Gabi came to you with an excited face as she showed you her new acquisition. A purple and glittery cover for her phone.

"Qué lindo! Do they have it in blue too?" (How cute!)

"Nah, it was the last one, Papa said this would match with my room too."

Said Papa hugged you from behind, and kissed your temple, red eyes never left him. Ricky gave Miguel a polite smile as he backed away a few steps. Miguel's strong features only turned sharper. It would be a lie to say if Ricky wasn't surprised and intimidated.

Surprised cause you hugged Miguel's narrow waist, a pleased and proud purr emanated from his chest. Loud enough for only you to hear it.

The man before him screamed danger a mile ago. But also, explained lots of things. Like Benjamin's eyes.

"Richard, this is my husband. Miguel O'Hara."

Ricky hesitated for a second, but stretched his hands towards him, big tan hands easily enveloped his in a firm shake.

"Nice to meet you." His nervous smile was like fuel to your husband's ego.

Miguel acknowledged him with a brief nod, eyes not tearing away from him. A quiet She's mine in his eyes.

"Richard and I used to go at the same college. Oh! This is my eldest daughter, Gabriella. And my youngest baby, Rosie."

Gabi smiled politely while holding onto Miguel's hips.

"You have a beautiful family." His green eyes stared at an ever curious Rosie that gazed back at him. Miguel's shoulder's tensed when Rosie gave Ricky a smile.

"Thanks, You'll be fine though. Things take time, but, It all comes together somehow. Just be patient. I'm glad you're doing good on your own." Again, you patted his shoulder, he just gave you a small but genuine smile. Miguel's guts churned as his jaw clenched.

Ricky left after saying his goodbyes, not wanting to impose his presence any further.

"Gabibi, mi amor, can you get the food cart to the line, please?"

"Okay. Don't take too long, please?"

Gabriella took the cart as Benjamin showed her his nuggets, leaving you and Miguel with Rosie alone.

"Alright, interrogation can start now." You chuckled and Miguel pulled you by your waist towards him, ebbing you to walk a few steps before giving a firm slap on your rear.

"Miguel!" you hushed, flustered while looking around to see of there were people and he smirked.

"Wanted to do that before that guy, but that wouldn't be too polite of me, wouldn't it?"

You kissed his cheek, but he quickly corrected the place and pecked your lips.

"That's better. Who was he anyway?"

"My ex from college."

He just hummed and it was your turn to return the squeeze, he chuckled, "Relax. He just got divorced and obviously not having a good time."

"Too bad." He shrugged, a bit nonchalant and you deadpanned.

"Don't be mean. You were scaring him on purpose."

"Obvio. Still, forgot to thank him." (Obviously)

You chuckled as you approached to the line, Gabi waved at you both.

"Thank him?"

"Well, he let you go, and I wouldn't have met you in the first place. So thanks to that."

"Well, he's there on the other line, go tell him."

You teased, but to your surprise Miguel stepped away from the beeline and was walking towards Richard.

"W-Wait! Miguel!" You had skip a few steps to catch him and pull him back to spot, he smirked while pulling you tighter towards him.

"Don't tempt me, mi reina."

"God, I swear. You're-"

"Your husband, mi amor." He smirked, satisfied at his own title in your life.

"A jealous one."

He leaned to your ear and whispered, "Espérate que lleguemos a casa. No te la vas a acabar conmigo, mi reina." (Wait till we get home. You'll see what's up.)

Gabriella rolled her eyes at the flirty atmosphere around you and covered Benjamin's eyes.

"You're too young to see that."

#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #soccer family ⚽🕷️#atsv miguel #gabi o'hara #miguel o'hara fluff #benjamin o'hara #rosie o'hara

736 notes · View notes

sytoran · 7 months

Text

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟎𝟑 — 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇-𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

kinktober day 003 | IW!wife!wanda x gn!reader

you've always loved writing stories since young, but the tale of you and your wife writes itself, and it ends with a sweet happy-ever-after.

cont. soft sex, established relationship, romance + fluff

word count. 1477

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

You’ve always had a thing for writing stories.

From the most devastating tragedies of a sapphic couple in medieval times, to the spiciest of female homoerotic tension during a zombie apocalypse, there were no words beyond the coaxing grasp of your vivid intelligence.

Encompassing was what it was, how the words flowed from the edge of your mindwires to the tips of your fingers, spilling onto page after page of literary beauty. You could get lost in it for days on end, spinning that marionette with a poetic dexterity, making her dance to your stories until her legs could take no more.

It was no secret that writing had been an extraordinary talent of yours, that would later take shape in the path of your future career.

So there you were, sitting at your study desk on a lazy Saturday morning, nimble fingers flying over your keyboard in an intricate dance, each pausable breath, each rush of words that woved into the fabric of your story.

It’s quite picturesque, if you’re being frank; what with freshly brewed coffee in a steaming hot mug that read ‘Pride not Prejudice’ (Yes, there was an overload of rainbows decorating its surface,) and a breathtakingly idyllic view of the morning sky.

Of course, the skyline would never quite compare to the sight of your lady stepping out of the bedroom. The only causation to cease your words.

“Y/N?”

It’s a beautiful calling, tainted with a sleep-dragged croak of the throat. Brown doe eyes slowly blink to meet your gaze, soft feet making tentative contact with smooth marble.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you respond softly, eyes savouring the sight that is your wife in one of your cream Oxford shirts. Wanda's beauty is underlying and unsaid, beyond the boundaries of conventional and beyond your dictionaried words.

Certainly, Wanda has the traits of what define beauty: your shirt on her is partially unbuttoned to tease at a tantalizing cleavage, the hem of the clothing is high enough to show off the expanse of her porcelain legs.

But it's also the way the sunlight falls on Wanda's skin, like she's a descendant of the Gods that crafted the essence of light, like she was made to dance and roam in the beauty of the day.

It's the way the morning glow accidentally highlights her Grecian-sculpted cheekbones, and the way her light-brown freckles casually pop in that light. It's her collarbone scattered with your marks of violet hues, and that fading scar on her right thigh you never fail to kiss.

A sleepy sigh escapes from Wanda’s lips, and she runs a hand through her perfectly dishevelled hair. You don’t have to say anything, only nod your head in the slightest. The rest is second nature: Wanda slides herself into your lap, arms hooking around the back of your neck, head tucked into the crook of your neck.

Perhaps it was second nature, truthfully, because Wanda didn’t need control when she was around you. You were her control, her steadfast pillar, her rising sun. You were a constant in her ever-changing world, always by her side regardless of whatever insurmountable task might be in her way.

You let an imperceptible sigh of content slip through your lips, but you never stop typing for a second. Emotion was difficult for you to convey, paradoxically, considering the amount of feeling you could put into words. In actuality, it was hard for you to laugh carelessly or have an outburst of fury. Your emotion was quiet and unspoken, much like in the present moment.

Wanda, however, seemed to have other plans in mind.

It started off innocent, because you truthfully believed she was just being affectionate and physically in need of human warmth. And maybe it was, as your girlfriend eased into your lap, nuzzling adorably into your comforting scent.

But when Wanda’s hips begin moving unsubtly, breath growing more delicate on to the curve of your neck, you’re sure without a doubt that this is another one of those times Wanda sought a different kind of fulfillment, the kind that lay adjacent to her pretty thighs.

Your hands dance a little faster on the keyboard. Your eyes are still gazing over the top of Wanda’s head, firmly determined to complete this part of the novel you were working on.

“Y/N…” Wanda says, reverently softly, pressing up into the warmth of your bodily heat. “Mhm?” you hum absent-mindedly, tucking your forearms in a little closer to entrap Wanda in your embrace.

You replace a comma with a fullstop just as Wanda shifts uncomfortably in your lap. Your wife’s legs fall open and slides her centre around the muscle of your right thigh. Something rises in your chest at the sensation of bare centre meeting your warm skin.

She cranes her pale neck like a swan, pressing her warm mouth against your neck. You shift imperceptibly, switching a three-letter phrase into a subject-verb concord. When Wanda’s tongue pokes out between her ruby lips, when her sharp teeth scrape over the pulse point of your neck, when her curled hair brushes your exposed skin, an uncontrollable shudder runs through your body.

Backspace. Backspace. Backspace. Your spelling is becoming sloppy, almost like there’s a distraction.

Almost in retaliation, you jerk your knee up, the one that had been situated between Wanda’s thighs, and the mewl that leaves her mouth breaks her porcelain-doll composure. Satisfaction pools in your hips.

Words don’t need to be said between the two of you, as a slight shift in the atmosphere of the dining room sets itself. Wanda’s pants become shallower and quicker, the undulation of her hips speeding up, her legs clenching tighter around your thigh.

Your hands are flying over the keyboard now, your fingers twitching with bridled electricity, having need of some alleviation to express your ever-increasing libido. It’s a wonder how your eyes aren’t yet completely glazed over; yet, they’re moving in mechanical function to type, like you’re clinging on to a fragment of sanity.

Because honestly, remaining sane while your wife let out the most pitiful whines into your ear certainly wasn’t an easy task.

“Y/N,” Wanda cries, finally, emitting a sound as she clutches onto the soft fabric of your collared shirt. You can see, in your peripheral vision, the way Wanda’s face morphs into an expression of pleasure, the lines in nose-bridge forming a scrunch.

Wanda is, without a doubt, the most breathtaking woman you’d ever laid your eyes upon. Reverent devotion bleeds from your mindwires and on to the page, staining it a crimson red as she nears her high.

Your right thigh is moving in sync with each of Wanda’s humps, and she’s chasing that pleasure for all it’s worth: The clenching of your thigh muscles, the harsh jerks of your thigh as she struggles to ride it properly.

Leaning down, your lips caress the shell of your wife’s ear, and from your mouth flows the words that are the final seal of acquiescence.

“Come for me, sweetheart.”

Just like that, something snaps inside Wanda, and the edge of your brainwaves fray like an old rope. In that moment, you know your words can take a rest.

The movement of your fingers come to a halt. There was an unfinished story before you, the plot unfolding but not quite complete. But with Wanda by your side, she writes your story for you, carves the path towards a bittersweet ending.

She takes the words from the deepest depths of your heart and lets it pour out her mouth, unashamedly, unapologetically, indescribable emotion overflowing from those blossomed lips into her trembling figure, her flushed cheeks.

“Y/N,” Wanda moans, and her sounds raise in pitch when you buck your hips up in a moment of your fractured composure. Her hips grind shamelessly onto the muscle of your thigh, chasing that stimulation.

It’s far from the most intense orgasms you’d brought Wanda to, because she can’t ever reach that level of ecstasy without your prodding fingers or your devil-tongued mouth. Perhaps that’s half of its beauty, though, that the two of you were incomplete without the other.

Wanda curls in your lap as she recovers from her high, enclosed within your forearms and the desk, face buried into your chest to engulf her senses in your scent. There’s sacred solace in the way you tilt your head down to press a fluttering kiss on her neck.

Your word document remains open but unfinished, the coffee in your mug grows cold. Sweet nothings and promised everythings are exchanged between the two of you until the sun has fully risen, hues of amber and gold painting the room.

The only story that mattered was the one before you, the one waiting to be explored.

You’ve had a thing for writing stories since young, and this particular one ends with a happy-ever-after.

this fic is really special to me. i think it's probably some of the best writing i've put out there, so i'd be incredibly grateful if you could give it a reblog ♥

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

#sytoran's kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader smut #x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x reader #wanda x reader smut #gxg smut #wlw smut #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #marvel smut #sub wanda maximoff #top reader #dom reader #bottom wanda maximoff

1K notes · View notes

infiniteimaginings · 2 months

Note

Could you write some angsty Anthony bridgerton x wife reader. Maybe he took his anger out on her cus he was stressed or something.💋😭😫🩷

A Loving Marriage (Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Anthony had married you, he adored you during your courtship. He showed his affections through floral arrangements, joyous laughter, your dance card always had his name first. When he married you though, some things changed. He would be warm, but it slowly dimmed. He was always in his office, he never spoke to you, why does he do so? Pronouns: You/Yours, She/Her Warnings: Angst Word Count: 4.0k A/N: I love angst, I love it! I looked at this request three times, midnight struck, and I turned into a writing goblin.

It had been a nice day, you had finally drawn your husband, Anthony Bridgerton, out of the house to have a delightful picnic with you. The two of you were discussing anything but pressing matters, laughing, eating the small sandwiches, drinking the sweet but tart lemonade. Occasionally your fingers would touch, a burst of energy escaping into your bodies until your fingers interlocked, accepting the warmth with open arms.

The sun was shining brightly, the clouds perfect white and fluffed into shapes the two of you pointed out and playfully teased each other for. The slight tilt of his head when you spoke of a cloud being shaped as one thing, his squinted eyes and scrunched nose were all that mattered to you. The way the sun kissed his skin and a few freckles had come to light, it was so beautiful to you, he was so beautiful.

When Anthony turned his gaze to you from the heavily brightened sky, the corners of his eyes crinkled with the smile he gave you. His toothy grin was matched with him asking, “What is it?” You paid no mind to the question, simply smiling at your husband, your heart warming as you stared at him in adoration. You shook your head, “I just love you.” You told him, the comment making him smile wide, his teeth showing in his grin. The day was beautiful, and neither of you could deny that fact. To make the day even more beautiful, flowers were spread around your blanket on the ground, showing proof of spring.

You began to ramble a bit about the newest items you saw in the shop, Anthony just listening with loving eyes. A bee had hummed and buzzed as it circled around your head, when Anthony noticed he straightened up, his eyes widening a bit in fear. He went to move the dreadful creature from you but the bee had found its attention with him instead, buzzing around his head. Anthony had fallen still, horrified.

Anthony had just returned from shooting with his father, Edmund Bridgerton. The elder man had clasped his shoulder, telling him that in due time he will be able to show someone his best. He gave him a truthfully meaningful message about having to show someone your worst before you can show them your best, but the message didn’t stay in Anthonys head very long.

The elder had noticed a group of vibrant purple Hyacinths within their gardens, his wife's favorite flower. He decided to pick the flowers with a hum, expressing how Anthonys mother would love them. The younger boy laughed and began to pick a few himself, his father standing up, swatting a very persistent bee, Anthony shaking his head playfully. He expressed how his younger sister would be quite jealous until he noticed his father had not responded.

”Father?” Anthony spoke, turning to Edmund, the man was touching his neck. “The bloody thing stung me.” He told his son, moving his hand a bit with a twitch of his mouth. A bee sting didn’t mean much, so Anthony nodded and continued to pick a few flowers until his father began to gasp for breaths. Anthony stood, walking to Edmund, “Father, what is it?” He asked, and that question would be repeated a multitude of times with no verbal response.

Edmund Bridgerton had turned to his son, a bright red patch on his neck where the bee stung him, his face extremely pale, his eyes almost black as he struggled to breathe. Anthony watched his father struggle for air and collapse into his arms. He couldn’t even hear when he yelled for someone to help, he didn’t even hear when his pregnant mother, Violet Bridgerton, had come running down the small hill after seeing them through the open door in the back of their home.

Everything happened so fast and all Anthony could process was his father reaching up to cup his mothers cheek one last time, before his hand fell and the light left his eyes. Edmund Bridgerton died that day, Violet Bridgerton became a widow that day, he and his siblings lost their father that day.

Anthony was abruptly snapped out of his thoughts when you swatted the bee away mindlessly. You hummed with a breathless chuckle, “You know it’s spring when the bees are out.” you spoke, looking in the basket for another small snack, unaware of the daze Anthony had just been in. He blinked a bit, looking around as he deeply inhaled, trying not to ruin your nice moment. He clapped his hands to his knees, “Well then.” He began, “I think I have some paperwork to attend to.” He told you, standing up and brushing himself off. You looked up rather quickly from your spot on the blanket, “Can’t it wait? We were having such a nice time.” You said, pouting ever so slightly.

He shook his head, leaning down to you, pressing his lips to yours in a short kiss. “Unfortunately it can not, enjoy the rest of the picnic.” He spoke hastily, walking back into the home, leaving you alone to watch the sky.

Days had passed, Anthony had not joined you again for a picnic, nor had he joined you for any sort of meal after that day. You didn’t understand why he felt the need to lock himself in his office, what was so interesting about paperwork he could tend to at any time? You were worried for him, you knew the footmen in the household brought him food, you just weren’t sure if he ate any of it.

With that, you decided to pay your husband a visit. You dismissed the footman at the door and simply knocked, a muffled ‘Come in’ came from the other side of the door. You gently opened it, smiling sweetly at Anthony who looked up at you, expressionless. You closed the door behind you, observing your surroundings and your husband who sat behind a desk, papers piling it. He looked like he hadn’t slept, if he had then he looked like her hadn’t slept well.

You walked to him, slow steps, the heels of your shoes sounding muffled as they clicked upon the polished floors. “You’ve locked yourself away.” You told him, standing in front of his desk, fingers twiddling in front of you. Anthony kept his eyes on you, quill pen in hands, plenty of papers around that needed signatures. He cleared his throat, “Well, some matter can not be left.” He told you simply, head looking back down to his work.

You walked around the desk, hands smoothing along his shoulders, he tensed more than relaxed. “You need a break.” You hummed to him, gently pressing your hands into the blades of his shoulders. Anthony leaned his head back into the chair, sighing, “I’m sorry my love, I just have so much work to do.” He told you with closed eyes, his mouth in a frown. Your expression mirrored his and you turned his chair a bit, taking his hands in yours. “We should go to town, go for a walk.” You suggested, “Maybe we could pick some flowers and visit your family.” You continued on, hands holding his slightly larger ones in yours.

You saying that seemed to invoke some sort of reaction from your husband, he removed his hands from you, “No.” He spoke harshly, turning back to the papers. You huffed, trying to get him to look at you, he wouldn’t budge. “Why do you refuse to spend time with me? Is your paperwork that important?” You pressed on, standing at his side, pure disbelief on your face.

Anthony put his clenched fists on the desk, “Yes, it is!” He spoke loudly, not looking at you. “You are interrupting very pressing matters, so go.” He told you, head turning to you ever so slightly, one hand raised to point to the door.

The outburst had shocked you, you stood there with a hand to your chest, a frown on your face, tears threatening to prick your eyes. “Anthony I merely hoped…” You began, trying to find the words, instead you found yourself stumbling over them. Anthony shook his head, hand to his temple as he looked back down to the papers, “I care not for your wishes, leave!” HeYou stood up straight, swallowing harshly with a small sniffle. You bowed your head to him, “Of course Mr. Bridgerton.”You spoke, walking out the room, hands clasped together and head held high as you left him alone to his work.

Anthony had not come to the bedroom that night and you had not visited his office for the rest of the day. Neither of you had come down for dinner, eating respectively in separate rooms.

The next day, mid afternoon, you walked into the office area with a tea tray. Typically, a maid would bring it in for you, but you had seemed to reject the idea and believed you were perfectly capable of doing it yourself. Anthony had heard the sound of the door opening, no knock, no announcement. He looked up and saw you setting the tea tray on the low table in front of the seats in the office. The tray had two teacups and saucers, a teapot with freshly brewed tea, a sugar bowl, a milk jug, and a strainer. All of which were porcelain with multicolored, delicately painted flowers and the Bridgerton name along the side.

Anthony sighed deeply, he didn’t look irritated, he just looked tired. “ Did I not tell you to leave me be?” He asked since you had not greeted him. You didn’t look at him as you prepared your cup of tea, “That is such a way to speak to your wife Mr. Bridgerton.” You spoke sarcastically, stirring in your sugar and taking a small sip to see if it were to your tastes. A warm smile formed on your face after you drank the warm liquid, sitting comfortably in the chair a little ways across from Anthony's desk, a table in the way of you being directly in front of his desk.

Anthony clasped his hands together, elbows on the desk, “What are you doing?” He asked, lips pursed. You placed your cup on the saucer, “If you truly believe I will let you sit in this office and rot,” You spoke, finally looking at him, “you are gravely mistaken.” You told him, expressionless. Anthony tilted his head to the side, he didn’t believe he was ‘rotting’ in the office space, but he couldn’t speak since you beat him to it. “I shall remain here and tend to you until you see fit to conduct yourself as a gentleman.” You stated, hands in your lap, straightening your posture, “Or to put sourly,” You began, “an adult.”

“Do not treat me like a child.” Anthony told you, hands dropping back to the desk, no movement towards the quills.

“Then do not act like one.”

“What has prompted this?”

You pretend to think for a moment, pulling up your hand to count, “Your blatant disregard for your wife in your own home,” You spoke as you put up a finger, “your refusal to acknowledge her presence or engage with her” you continued, putting another finger up, “or even talk to her.” You finished, putting up the last finger, slightly glaring at him.

There was silence from Anthony as he bit the inside of his cheek, twitching his nose. Due to the silence, you continued to speak, “I vowed to cherish and support you through all, but I will not endure your silence.” You explained, shaking your head a bit with your words. Anthony sighed, moving a few papers out of his way, “You are aware that traditionally wives do not-”

“You did not marry me due to my traditional nature.”

There was more silence from your husband until he ran a hand through his hair. “You will not leave until I discuss ill with you?” He asked, seeming to be contemplating the idea that he just spoke into existence. You nodded, “Precisely.”

“Very well, let’s discuss ills.”

The Bridgerton man stood from his desk and strode to sit next to you. You gestured to the tea and he shook his head, leaning forward, clasping his hands. His leg shook and tapped the floor as he struggled to find the words, “My fathers death left my mother heartbroken, she never remarried.” He spoke suddenly. The words confused you a bit, was that why he had been so closed off? You turned to him fully, crossing your leg over the other, “Your mothers strength,” You began, taking a breath, “is commendable.” You commented, the Brdigerton in front of you chose not to look at you but he nodded. “She said her love for your father was true and her devotion for your father lies strong.” You continued on, thinking about the older woman and how powerful she was for standing strong for her children. “She does not need to marry if she does not wish to.” You completed your thought at his words about his mother.

Anthony put his hands on his knees, straightening himself. He sucked his teeth, “I understand that,” He told you, “but you do not understand how she flinches when they refer to her as Dowager.” He continued on.

At parties they would announce Violet Bridgerton as Dowager VIscountess Bridgerton, and they have for the many years since Edmund Bridgerton had passed.

“My mother remains a widow.” Anthony continued, voice slightly cracking when he thought about the way his mothers hand would tighten around his arm when someone greeted her as ‘Dowager’.

You nodded in understanding, no matter how strong Violet was, it still hurt. You just didn’t process why that caused him to pull from you. “Nevertheless, I am not,” You told him, the words causing him to look put his face in his hands, “hence my lack of understanding of your coldness and sudden refusal to be with me.” You spoke, staring right at him, hands in your lap picking at your nails.

“What if you find yourself a widow?” Anthony asked suddenly, now fully turned to you.

“Pardon me?” You asked blankly, brows furrowed, lips slightly parted.

“What if you find yourself to be a widow?” He repeated, slightly differently.

“If you suspect you may act recklessly, you must inform me at once." You told him cautiously, hand moving towards him, but he pulled back. "My father's passing was but a consequence of being outdoors.” He stated blankly, eyes staring forward, distantly. He never talked about his father's death, it wasn’t a topic he was very open about. “He committed no recklessness, yet the heavens saw fit to claim him.” Anthony's hands were beginning to shake before he clenched them into fists, “A virtuous man, struck down."

“Anthony-”

“What if I do not live a graciously long life?” He asked, head snapping to you, “What if I meet my end, just as young as my father?” He asked another question that you had no answer to other than, “Anthony you will live a long life-”

He stood abruptly, face red, eyes watering, “How could you possibly know that!” He yelled at you, “You do not!” He continued to yell, face such an angry red it almost scared you. He didn’t seem angry though, his eyes were filled with fear, he was scared. You did not expect him to yell or be so emotional, it hurt you deep in your heart to see him look so terrified about what could happen.

Anthony began to pace, hands in his hair and desperately pulling at his collar. “I didn’t even wish to marry,” He told you, seemingly muttering to himself. “I feared leaving my wife alone, especially if we were to have children.” He continued, not gazing at you at all.

You stood, slowly walking to him, “Yet, here you continue to stand,” You said, “alive,and wed.” You reminded him, concern flowing through you as he paced.

He stopped walking, looking at the wedding ring on his finger. “My mother was left with eight children to raise alone.” He mumbled, having to clear his throat from how low he was speaking. “I, the eldest, lost my father when I was eighteen left to carry his title and responsibility.” He spoke to you, reminding himself of all the information he didn’t know when he was eighteen and how he had to figure it all out, how he had to be the man of the house at such a young age. “I do not wish for you and our future child to endure the same fate.”

You were quiet, “Then why did you marry me?” You whispered, your expression was slightly crinkled but you were listening. Anthony had turned to you, a soft but sad expression on his face. He gently held your hands, looking into your eyes. “My affection for you was undeniable.” He confessed, cupping one of your cheeks with his large hand, a bit of sweat dripping down his forehead from being so worked up. “It was so difficult to be inexplicably in love with you and watch for you to have other suitors.” He continued, drawing a breath, “I was drawn to you, as a moth to flame.”

You licked your lips, “Yet, you still harbor fears of leaving me-”

“The responsibility of children and a title you cannot shed unless you remarry.” He interrupted you, thumbs rubbing at your cheeks. He looked at you desperately, desperate for you to understand how he was feeling, but you could not. “Which I have no intention to do.” You retorted to his comment, he is the only man you believe you’ll ever love and nothing will change that.

Anthony nodded, dropping his hands from your face. He remembered how he wasn’t there for his mother, for his family sometimes. “I acknowledge that I was a challenge to deal with for my mother.” He spoke, and you were aware of such things. He had admitted these feats to you during your courtship, during small corners of vulnerability. “I just do not wish for you to face similar struggles alone.” He finished his thought, ultimately refusing to meet your gaze as he found the bookcases to be far more interesting.

You shook your head, “She did not endure it alone.” You stated matter-of-factly. Anthony looked up, eyes blinking in confusion, “What?” He asked you, so you continued. “Your mother, she had you, she had Benedict, Colin, Daphne. All of her children were her solace and support.” You expressed to him, reminding him of all of his siblings. They all had each other, they were all her shoulder to cry on just as she was theirs.

Anthony sighed for the thousandth time within that conversation, “We were not easy children.” He told you. Eloise didn’t wish to marry, he had been such a terrible man of the house in the beginning, Benedict did not wish for the responsibility, Colin rushed into things too quickly, Daphne had so much going on when she was named the diamond of the season, his younger siblings couldn’t even fathom the world they were in.

“No child ever is.” You told him simply, holding his hand gently. This time, he did not pull away.

You smiled at him, kissing his cheek gently and pulling back to look him into his eyes. “Now,” You started, letting out the puff of air that was compressing your chest the entire conversation. “I’d prefer if we do not speak the subject of your demise as if it were to greet us at dawn.” You told him, the comment causing him to chuckle a bit, holding your hand a little tighter. “You will come down for dinner and we will enjoy a meal together.” You told him and he nodded, “I will be down in a moment, I shall see the papers are put away first.” He spoke, looking around to all the papers scattered on his desk and some even on the floor.

You left him to the papers and asked your maid to get dinner started, the woman asking if there were any preferences you wanted. The door had closed and Anthony was soon left alone.

Once the door had closed Anthony had begun to gasp for breath, unbuttoning the top of his shirt for air. His chest began to have as he leaned against the door, tears filling his eyes. He furiously wiped at them, trying so hard to push them back but he couldn’t stop them when a choked sob left his lips. His hands were shaking when they reached his face to wipe at his eyes hurriedly. The topic of conversation was difficult, you were so sure that the two of you would grow old together with your children, that you would not have to worry about being a widow, but Anthony was not so sure.

Everyday he saw a little bit of his father in himself and it terrified him. Such a good man was taken from the world by something as simple as a bee and it scared Anthony of everything around him. Sure, before he was not scared of death, even going as far as to call for a duel where he was prepared to die for his sister's honor. But now, he had you, and he did not wish to leave you.

Anthony shakily clasped his hands in a prayer, praying for all the time in the world to be with you. Praying for more time than his father had, praying for a chance. He muttered small prayers, “Please, I just wish to be with her, I will never ask for anything else.” He cried out quietly, eyes closed, tears pouring from his eyes. “I just want time, time with her, please.” He begged quietly, his prayers in reflection to how lonely he saw his mother was. She had so many children but he knew that his mother wished for his father to be there to help her everyday.

A knock had sounded at the door, the noise caused Anthony to stand quickly and rush to the other side of the room with documents, back to the door. He cleared his throat, sniffling one last time, “Enter.” He spoke, the door opening.

“Lord Bridgerton, dinner is served.” A footman had announced, standing in the doorway.

Anthony put the documents away, wiping his tears without the man noticing. “I shall be there in just a moment's time.” He told the man, putting some documents into the drawers. The man nodded and closed the door, going to inform you of the comment.

The door closed once more and Anthony felt his legs were so weak that he had almost collapsed into the furniture. One of his hands gripped the edge of the drawer, the other clawing at his chest. He felt as if every time he took a breath his chest would tighten, he felt nauseous, dizzy. The room was spinning and his vision was blurry from his tears. It almost seemed as if he were dying, but he was not, everything felt like so much but nothing was happening.

It all felt like too much.

He tried to take a few more deep breaths, the pain ceasing and his vision returning back to normal. He slowly exhaled, blinking and wiping his tears. He clenched his jaw as he stood up straight, muttering some words of ‘man of the house’, ‘loving husband’, ‘time’. He couldn't connect the words even if he tried, all he knew was that he was going to dinner.

All he knew was that his father's words rang in his head, but he kept shaking them from his mind. “You cannot show someone your best without allowing them to see your worst.” If only his father had told him how difficult it was to show someone your worst. How frightening it was to show true vulnerability, to find the words to explain feelings you don’t even understand fully yourself.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #angst #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic

641 notes · View notes

beskarandblasters · 30 days

Text

Red Wine Supernova

No Outbreak!Abby Anderson x F!Reader

Ways to help Palestine

Main Masterlist | Abby Anderson Masterlist

Author’s note: Inspired by Red Wine Supernova by Chappell Roan!

Summary: You move to a new neighborhood where you run into Abby at the gym. You start seeing more and more of her until the both of you can’t take it anymore— you need to take it to the next level.

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied and wears a skirt, no outbreak AU, drinking, smoking weed, kissing, Abby’s a FLIRT, fingering (reader receiving), oral sex (reader receiving), sex toys, edible lube, pet names (baby, pretty girl), no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

A new neighborhood. A new beginning. You aren’t thrilled that your landlord decided to raise the rent but it meant you got to move to a new area, a much cooler area. For example, you’re walking distance to a gym. But now you also have roommates. Whatever. You’re not too old for roommates yet.

And you had to swap your king-size bed for a twin mattress since your new room is much smaller.

Whatever. It’s cool.

You win some, you lose some.

It’s been a week since you’ve settled into your new apartment. You’re walking to the gym, looking to sign up for a new membership. Maybe meet some people in the neighborhood. Fifteen bucks a month? Not bad.

The worker hands you a little chip to keep on your keychain and you’re on your way. You put your stuff in the locker room and head back out to the machines, opting for a treadmill first.

Your eyes wander between your phone and the TV’s on the wall. Until your eyes linger on something— someone else.

Long hair in a braid. No bra. Your type.

She just finished bench pressing. And… she caught you staring.

She smiles and gives you a small wave. You look away quickly, cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

After a beat, you look at her again. She’s walking to another machine. She’s hot. And not to mention so fucking buff?? She’s wearing a dark gray muscle tank. Her biceps are peppered with freckles, glistening in a fresh layer of sweat, and pumped up from her workout.

Before you know it you’re tripping over your own feet, stumbling a little on the treadmill. Guess you were ogling her too hard.

If she’s a regular fixture at the gym, you’ll be more motivated than ever to work out.

It’s Friday night. You’re waiting in line to get into a club. Coincidentally it’s also just a few blocks away from your new apartment. It’s a little chilly, the nighttime breeze makes goosebumps prick your thighs. You’re wearing a miniskirt and go-go boots, glitter on your collarbones, ready to dance the night away. You’re here with one of your roommates, Sam, who agreed to come with you even though clubbing isn’t really her scene.

When you get inside, you spot her again. The girl from the gym. She’s wearing a t-shirt this time and the sleeves look like they’re ready to pop from her muscles. Fuck.

She’s on the dancefloor, laughing and having a good time. You notice the way her nose crinkles when she’s smiling. You hope she notices you. Or maybe you don’t. It’s hard to tell. Your stomach is swirling and your knees feel like jelly. But why? You haven’t even said a word to each other.

Sam notices you staring and follows your line of sight, giggling to herself when she notices who you’re looking at.

“You know her?”

“I’ve seen her around before but I couldn’t tell you her name.”

“What do you… What do you think of her?”

“She’s cute!” She scans the room and finds the bathroom across the way, turning and telling you, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Shoot your shot!”

And with that she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd. You look back at her, your little crush, and notice she’s with a few friends– two men and two women. You hang back and make your way to the bar, ordering a vodka soda and trying not to be too obvious about watching her.

You failed. Because she makes eye contact with you and smirks. One of her friends, a woman, whispers in her ear. And before you know it she’s coming over to you. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Hey!” she semi-shouts over the music.

God, she’s so fucking hot. This is the first time you’re seeing her up close. There are more freckles across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. Her hair is in the same braid as before and you’re wondering if that’s her signature look.

“Hi!” you semi-shout back.

“I’m Abby!”

You tell her your name and she says, “Nice to meet you! Are you new to the gym?”

“Yeah! I just moved to the neighborhood!”

“Sounds like you need some friends in the area. Let me introduce you to mine!”

“Okay!”

You down your drink and set it on the bar. She grabs your hand and leads you to her friends on the dance floor. You learn their names are Manny, Owen, Mel, and Nora. They’re all really nice. Owen and Mel seem to be in a relationship. The six of you spend the rest of the night dancing. But you can’t seem to get over the fact that Abby grabbed your hand.

Sam comes back out from the bathroom and Abby introduces her to the group. You spend the rest of the night dancing and drinking until you close out the club. You stumble out onto the sidewalk and bid goodbye to Abby and her friends. She pulls you in for a hug and butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Is this real life??

“Catch you at the gym!” she says before letting go and waving goodbye, leaving with her friends down the street.

“You guys are cute together,” Sam says.

“You think so??”

“So cute I think I’m gonna throw up,” she laughs, starting the walk home.

“That’s from the drinks!” you shoot back, stumbling home drunk and giddy.

Ever since that fateful night at the club you start running into Abby more and more. The place you see her most often is the gym. But you also see her on the street, at the grocery store, and even at a gas station one time. Each time you guys cross paths you make small talk, talking about the weather, what TV shows you’re watching, what movies are out– the minor stuff. But you’re dying for a chance to get to know her.

You’d get your wish soon enough.

It’s another typical day at the gym. You’re running on the treadmill. Abby’s lifting weights. She hasn’t noticed you yet but you’re too shy to say hi first.

Eventually, she spots you in the giant mirror lining the perimeter of the gym and swiftly comes over to you. You take your earbuds out and set them by your phone on the treadmill.

“Wanna come to my place tomorrow night?” she asks, cutting right to the chase. She leans against the treadmill, smiling at you.

You slow your pace to a walk and say, “Sure!” startled by her forwardness but welcoming it all the same.

She grabs your phone off the treadmill and opens your contacts app, typing in her phone number and address. Your cheeks heat up at the bold move.

“Is seven okay?”

“Fine with me,” you choke out.

“Okay,” she says, placing your phone back on the treadmill. She throws her hand towel back over her shoulder and says, “See you tomorrow!”

But before she walks away she pants a swift slap on your ass.

You yelp in surprise followed by a giggle. You swivel your head to follow where she’s walking– to the locker room. And she’s laughing to herself. God, you’re done for. Head over heels and you haven’t even spent any time alone together yet.

Tomorrow night rolls around and you opt for a skirt again. You look over your appearance one more time in the mirror before setting off into the night, punching her address into your phone. She’s only a fifteen-minute walk from your apartment.

As you walk there the apartment buildings shift into houses and you realize that she most likely lives in a house. Impressive.

She’s waiting on her front desk for you. She waves and calls your name, a lighter in her hand.

“Hey! How are you?”

“I’m good! How are you?” God, you’re so fucking nervous.

“A lot better now. I rolled us a joint. Do you smoke?”

“I did a little bit in college.”

She hands you the joint and you put it to her lips, leaning in for her to light it. You inhale, turning your head away so you don’t blow the smoke in her face. But you start coughing and feel a little embarrassed.

She chuckles a bit and takes the joint from you, telling you, “Take it easy! Especially if it’s been a while.”

She gestures to the bench behind you and you take a seat. She sits beside you, the outside of your thigh touching hers. She takes a hit, exhaling the smoke effortlessly, without coughing. Your palms grow sweaty and your mouth grows dry. She hands the joint back to you and you take a much smaller hit this time. You already feel yourself loosening up and getting more silly. And soon enough, you’re laughing with each other. Her cheeks are flushed and she’s wearing a smirk. She turns towards you and asks, “What made you move to the neighborhood?”

“Rent went up at my old place,” you say, handing the joint back to her.

“That’s too bad. But at least it brought you here.”

“Yeah,” you say, looking around at her large deck and the front of her house, “How’d you score a place like this?”

“My dad left it to me when he passed.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” she takes inhaling. She exhales the smoke and continues, “It happened a while ago.”

“Tell me about yourself. What do you like? Got any hobbies?” you ask, trying to change the subject.

“I like going to the gym,” she shrugs, “But you know that already.”

“Mhm,” you say taking your turn to smoke now.

“I collect coins.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… Is that surprising?”

“A little. But it’s cute,” you reassure her.

“I like magic,” she snickers.

“Hang on,” you say, stifling a laugh, “Like doing magic?”

“No! Like watching it.”

She laughs, taking the joint back from you and bringing it to her lips now. You’re really feeling it now and you know that if you stood up you’d be stumbling a bit.

“I can tell you about magic,” you say, leaning in as she taps off the joint in the ashtray on the table beside the bench.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm, I’ve got a wand and a rabbit.”

“You what??” she laughs again.

“You know like… like the toys,” you say, realizing your joke didn’t quite land.

She laughs even harder now, head thrown back and her nose doing the cute scrunchy thing again.

“So it was funny?”

“It was funny,” she affirms, handing the joint back to you. You finish it off and toss it in the ashtray, leaning against the bench and feeling giddy.

“Can I tell you something?” she asks.

“Shoot.”

“I want to fuck you.”

“You do??” you say excitedly, inching closer towards her.

“I do,” she says, looking into your eyes. Her eyes are red, pupils blown wide. You can only imagine how you look right now, “But maybe when you’re not blasted.”

“That’s fair,” you say.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna kiss you right now,” she says, leaning forward and closing the almost nonexistent gap between you two. She kisses you, soft and intimate. Her lips are plush. She smells like a mixture of whatever perfume she’s wearing and weed. God, this can’t get any more perfect. She reaches a hand up your face, caressing your cheek. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire and you’re in disbelief this is even happening right now.

Her tongue brushes against your lips so you part them to let get gain access. Her tongue explores your mouth and pretty soon you’re moaning into her mouth, complete putty in her hands. She tears away from your mouth, kissing down your jawline and onto your neck.

“You could come over to my place tomorrow night,” you say.

“Mhm,” she says against your skin.

“I’ve got a California King, you know,”

“Mmm, I bet,” she chuckles.

“Okay, maybe it’s a twin bed… And I have roommates.”

“Baby, I don’t care,” she says, just before sinking her teeth into your neck.

That elicits a deep moan from you, louder than you were expecting. She keeps going, nipping and biting at the sensitive skin before licking the mark she just made. You place your hand on the back of her neck and the other holds onto her braid. That does something for her because she moans into your neck, holding you tighter.

She pulls away and says, “Let’s not get carried away for tonight.”

You sigh and agree, leaning against her shoulder.

“I’m glad we met,” you whisper.

“Me, too,” you whisper back.

Once you’ve both sobered up a little bit she walks you home, your hands brushing against each other’s as you walk. She waves goodbye, watching to make sure you get inside safely before leaving. You stumble up the stairs, still feeling a little high and giddy from the evening’s activities.

Once you’re in your room she texts you and says, “Same time tomorrow?”

You reply, “Sounds good!” before throwing your phone on the charger and flopping onto the bed, staring at the ceiling with a wide smile until you eventually drift off to sleep.

It’s the next day and when you eat breakfast at the kitchen table this morning you learn that both of your roommates will be out tonight. Perfect.

Sam’s going out with her boyfriend and Bri’s working a double. If all goes right, you’ll get to be as loud as you want… on your twin-sized mattress, of course.

You spend the day cleaning your apartment and showering, getting nervous the closer it gets to seven. She texts you when she’s on her way and now it’s game time– the moment you’ve been pining for for what feels like forever.

You wait downstairs for her and her face lights up into a big smile when she finally sees you. She’s wearing her classic dark gray muscle tank and jeans, hair pulled back into her signature braid. She greets you with a hand on your waist and a kiss on your lips.

“You ready?” she murmurs against your mouth.

“Born ready,” you respond, kissing her again.

You lead her up to your apartment and into your bedroom. She takes a look around your room before her eyes land on your bed.

“This is the famous California King, huh?” she chuckles while picking up a bra you forgot to put away. She tosses it on your chair and turns back towards you.

“Listen… I used to have one.”

“That’s a shame,” she faux sighs, “But I’ll make you scream regardless of what size bed you have.”

“Oh,” you say, cheeks heating up.

“What are you waiting for? Strip for me, baby.”

You nod eagerly and take off your t-shirt and bra, kicking off your sweatpants.

“Now where’s this wand and rabbit?” she chuckles.

You walk over to your nightstand and open the drawer, taking out your bag of sex toys and lube. She sits at the foot of your bed, rifling through the bag while you lay down, body shivering with anticipation.

“Ready for me, baby?” she says, holding the rabbit and a bottle of edible lube in her hand.

“Mhm.”

She squirts a dollop of lube in her hand and spreads it on your pussy. It’s cold and makes another shiver run down your spine. She turns the toy on and slowly inserts it inside you. A moan hitches in your throat. She kneels in between your thighs, hand still on the toy, and lowering her face above yours.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe, already wanting more. She has the toy in the lowest setting.

“You want more, don’t you?”

“...Yes,” you admit.

“Ask like a good girl.”

“Please Abby�� I need a higher setting.”

She grants you wishes, turning up the setting on the toy. Vibrations run through your core and against your clit. You’re in a state of bliss, eyes fluttering shut. But Abby grabs your chin and says, “Eyes on me, pretty girl.”

You maintain eye contact with her, mouth falling open into a soft O.

“How do you feel?” she asks.

“So fucking good.”

“Are you close?”

“...Almost.”

She turns up the toy to another two settings. And you’re getting closer to the edge now. You’re excited to cum but you also want her to make you cum, whether it’s from her mouth or her fingers– whatever she pleases.

“Cum for me, baby,” she coos, head cocking to the side.

You cum hard, walls clenching the toy and your whole body spasming. It’s intense and she keeps the toy flush inside you as you cum. Your moans are loud and incessant. And now you’re especially thankful your roommates are gone for the night.

“Good girl,” she praises, turning off the toy and bending down to kiss you.

“That was amazing,” you breathe out.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, you’re far from done.”

Your cheeks heat up and your body shudders. She pulls the toy from you and lowers herself so her face is in between your thighs. She licks one long, slow stripe up your cunt, tasting the mess you just made. She’s gentle at first. She knows you just came. But it doesn’t take long for her to lick her fingers and insert one inside you.

“So wet for me, baby,” she says, curling her finger slowly against your g-spot.

“Mmm because you take such good for me,” you sigh.

“That’s right,” she says, latching her mouth to your clit. She expertly swirls her tongue around your clit and inserts another finger inside you. You’re sent into a state of euphoric bliss, body tingling with waves of pleasure.

She moans into your cunt, eyes closed with her lashes fanned out against her face. She’s well on her way to taking your second orgasm from you. Your cunt tenses up in anticipation of release, pulsing around her fingers. She opens her eyes and looks up at you. Your chest rises and falls as you pant. Your hands grip the sheets for purchase. This one feels different but better, all thanks to her.

“Abby, I’m gonna-” you start but you cut yourself off with a moan. You writhe on the bed, back arching and stars swirling in your vision. Abby wraps her free arm around one of your thighs, keeping you in place.

You cum for a second time, feeling like you’re on cloud nine. She continues to suck your clit and finger you through your release. Your moans and whimpers are loud, no shame in hiding them. And now you’re starting to feel spent. But even still she’s not done with you.

She pulls her fingers from you when she’s done, placing them in her mouth and sucking off your wetness. But soon enough her face is back and buried in your cunt.

She stays there, lazily lapping up your release and pulling a few smaller orgasms out of you here and there. You lose count of how many times you cum tonight but you’re not complaining.

Eventually, when she’s decided you’re spent she lies beside you, resting on her side and looking into your eyes.

“You did such a good job for me, coming that many times.”

You go to respond but instead, you yawn. She sits up and takes off her clothes, lying beside you again and pulling you into her.

“What about you?” you ask sleepily.

“You had a big night,” she says, “Besides we can always do more in the morning.”

“Okay,” you respond, snuggling into her, “Goodnight, Abby.”

“Goodnight, baby.”

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x f!reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson imagine #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #abby anderson #abby anderson fanfiction

503 notes · View notes

accioboobs · 3 months

Text

NSFW — morning sex, soft, dom!ellie sub!reader (ellie x fem!reader)

The sun slips through the crevices of the blinds, spilling into the room in delicate rays of golden. The harmony of birdsong gently fills the room as it slips past the slightly open window. It’s warm enough to let the soft summer breeze coax you from a delicate slumber, and your eyes flutter open at the sounds and smells of early August.

The fresh sheets are crumpled, one of your legs is wrapped in the white fabric while the other lays on top of it. A tender hand caresses the skin of your bare thigh and you squint through tired eyes, sensitive to the morning light.

Your girlfriend peers down at you, propped up by her elbow, head resting in hand. Her thick strands of auburn are perfectly messy, eyes drowsy and lips pouty from sleep and your kisses the night before. The honey beams stretch across her face, accentuating each and every freckle that illustrates her skin. You smile up at her, capturing her addicting scent as you breathe in.

“Morning.” You mumble through a tired voice.

“G’morning.” Ellie says back, “how'd you sleep?”

“Good,” you sigh happily, “and you?”

“Best sleep in a while.” She grins slowly, closing her eyes to bask in the warm air.

She reaches out for you, gathering you in her arms and burying her face in the crook of your neck. She leaves gentle kisses down the skin, pressing her nose into you and inhaling deeply.

“You smell so good.” She mutters against you, “so sweet.”

Her hands slide down your bare sides, already stripped of clothing from the night before. Her nails lightly graze at your waist, then slip a lot lower, cupping at your ass and giving it a soft squeeze.

“Hurts?” She asks through a smile.

You roll your eyes playfully, “a bit.”

“M’sorry.” Ellie grins into your neck, “I’ll take care of you today, promise.”

She’s always so sweet after a rough night, a side she reserves only for you. It shocked you at first to see her this way when she’s usually so rigid, but her heart melts for you and she’s not worried about being so vulnerable.

Your fingers lace through her hair, brushing out the tangles carefully as her lips journey across your collarbones, carefully kissing the purple marks she left to tattoo your skin. You instinctively wrap your legs around her body as she rolls over on top of you, weaving your hands together and pinning them into the pillows.

“Just relax, m’kay?” She whispers, her warm tongue dragging down your chest and taking a nipple into her mouth.

She sucks and bites it, but not roughly. She takes her time to worship your body, offering you quiet noises of approval to tell you how much she loves it. She caresses your boob with her hand, the other holding both wrists above your head now, and you whimper softly at the feeling of her tongue gently flicking over your hardened nipple.

“That feels good.” You sigh quietly and her eyes move up to admire your pretty face.

She moves her mouth away from you with a soft pop, letting go of your wrists to glide her hands down your navel. Her slender fingers reach between your thighs and she groans softly as they rest against your slick folds.

“This wet already?” Her green eyes glaze over as she stares up at you, pressing her fingertips carefully against your clit.

She scoots down, her body disappearing under the sheets so her head is the only thing visible. She gently spreads your legs, sliding her hands up your thighs and then pulling them down so they drape over her shoulders. She plants messy kisses across your lower abdomen, hot tongue swirling across the flesh and making your breath hitch.

“I love this body so fucking much.” She says in a strained voice, she sounds so desperate for you it makes you even wetter, “you have no idea how lucky I am to get to do this.”

Her lips move to your inner thighs, nose pressing into their softness as she inches closer and closer to the place she craves the most. The smell of your arousal and your soft whines are enough to drive her wild and she can’t take it anymore, burying her face between your legs.

“Mmmh,” she moans, causing vibrations to ripple through you, “s’good baby.”

Her licks are slow and drawn out as she cherishes the taste of your pussy, sucking gently on your clit before repeating a long, steady lick from your entrance and back to your clit again. She stares up at you, green eyes hazy and full of desire and it’s quite possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

You sweep dark strands away from her forehead, sliding a hand across her scalp and burying your fingers in her hair, gently tugging as she slowly starts to tongue fuck you. The sound of her heavy breathing and the lapping at your wetness travel upwards to harmonize with your soft moans. Your head falls back against the pillows and your thighs squeeze around her head as you feel that coil in your stomach begin to unwind.

She spreads your legs even more, pulling her mouth away for a moment and sliding her middle finger between your folds. She slowly pushes it into your entrance but you hiss in pain and she quickly stops her movements, looking up at you with worry.

“You okay?”

“It just hurts,” your cheeks flush pink, “you know, after last night.”

Ellie frowns but you’re quick to ease her concern as you cup her cheek.

“Just keep using your mouth, that’s all I need.”

She pauses for a moment and then pushes herself up, flipping over so she’s laying on her back. You look across at her in confusion and a smile tugs at her lips.

“Sit on my face.” She says almost desperately.

You hesitate for a moment, chewing at your bottom lip and she reaches out for you.

“C’monnnn.” She coaxes, a lazy smirk on her face.

You crawl over and shyly sit on her hips and then slowly move so you’re hovering above her face. She reaches up, wrapping strong arms around your thighs.

“Mm-mm, don't hover,” she commands, fighting against your strength as you’re reluctant to put your full weight on her, “I want you to suffocate me, baby.”

With a yank you lose your balance and gasp as her face is smothered in your pussy. You feel her nose press against your clit and her tongue licks and sucks at your entrance, and you hear the sound of it sliding in and out of you. She moans loudly against you, sending waves of vibration to course through you. You tip your head back, whining her name as she eats you out as if she's starving.

You look down at her, face sandwiched between your thighs and dark eyes staring up at you. She’s so pussy drunk as you grind your hips against her open mouth, her tongue swirling around your clit and then sucking it over and over again until your thighs start to shake.

You grab onto her head for support, feeling yourself come undone as she forces you to rock against her face with her arms. You’re almost there, and with a last suck to your clit and a deep groan that ripples through you, you are sent over the edge.

You cry out, pushing yourself off of her before you completely crush her and you both lay beside each other, gasping for breath. She licks her lips, your come dripping down her chin and she leans over to kiss you, moaning as your taste meets both of your tongues.

“Good job, baby.” She mutters, kissing your cheek softly, “that feel good, huh?”

You can only nod, droplets of perspiration decorating your forehead and chest heaving as you recover from your orgasm. She chuckles lowly and sits up, stretching her arms above her head.

“Coffee?”

#ellie smut #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #fxf smut #the last of us #ellie tlou #smut #ellie williams fic #ellie x you #fluff

723 notes · View notes