#idk who it is but that’s not raine whispers

[littlehypnone]

idk if youve done anything like this but um

big rain losing trust in dew after an argument? so later when shes little, she doesnt have her main cg and she goes to find someone else and is sad?

and then maybe later, dew makes it up to her or something idk

im feeling kinda yucky and bad so idk but just an idea ?

i really liked this idea!!!

Rain and Dewdrop don’t argue often. Even when they do, it’s usually something borderline petty that would be resolved easily if one—or both—of them simply wouldn’t not be in a very communicative headspace. They always make up quickly, though, and their relationship is never damaged in the end. It’s always like that and everyone is used to it.

Sometimes, though, complications come up.

This time it was—technically—Dewdrop who was at fault, who started the argument. If only Rain wouldn’t have been as tired and achy as he was, if only he wouldn’t have added fuel to the fire with his words. But no, it didn’t go that smoothly, and so the fire ghoul had stormed off outside to take a very much needed breather, and Rain had returned to his room scoffing and snarling.

Hours later, Rain is overthinking the argument and feeling more and more guilty about the last couple of words that left his mouth before they went their separate ways. This and the pain that is pulsing through his legs that day is a simple recipe for the water to ghoul little, so little she ends up.

Her thoughts aren’t nice and she really, really needs Dewdrop, as usual in her current headspace, but all the mean things he said…she isn’t sure Dewdrop still likes her, and she isn’t sure she has enough trust for him while in her vulnerable state.

She sniffles sadly and fumbles with her phone to send Swiss a short message. A code they have set for when Rain goes little and needs him, but, for whatever reason, can’t get him any other way. Two emojis go flying and Rain cuddles around her shark plushie and waits.

Soon enough, Swiss appears in the door and immediately crawls into the water ghoulette’s bed and lays on his side next to her. “Hi, guppy.”

“Hi, Swissy,” she mumbles. She really likes Swiss and is always happy to spend time with him—big or little—but the argument with Dewdrop still hangs over her, and the fact that the fire ghoul is not there with her to calm down her bad thoughts hurts her. “Can I…can I get warm Swissy cuddles?”

“Of course you can, princess!” the multi ghoul smiles, intent or doing his best to cheer the little thing up, even though he knows he isn’t powerful enough to get rid of all the ickiness. Everyone knows Rain needs Dewdrop for that, but it's hard when he’s the cause.

Rain curls her lips upwards the tiniest bit, just to show Swiss she really appreciates him, before she curls up against his chest and nuzzles into his neck.

Swiss helps her fall asleep with a little spark of calming quintessence, and she naps for a while—all the bad thoughts kept at bay. When she wakes up again it’s to a quiet knocking at the door and she’s a lot smaller than before falling asleep. Her head is all fuzzy, but it’s okay. It’s warm and nice, thanks to Swiss.

The multi ghoul calls out for the person to come in, but he curls around the little ghoulette in his arms protectively. Fiery smell reaches Rain’s nose and she understands it’s Dewdrop who came in. She whines quietly and hides in Swiss’ chest.

“Dew, I don’t think it’s a good time,” the multi ghoul mutters, but there’s no anger in his voice. He knows it’s just how Dewdrop and Rain are, that they’ll be fine. “She’s really small and she just woke up from a nap.”

“Oh, I…Okay, I’ll go…I’m sorry,” he whispers, and even though Rain is so very sleepy and a bit scared of the fire ghoul at the moment, she doesn’t like the tone of his voice. She doesn’t like how small and sad it is.

“No,” Rain says quietly, barely loud enough for Dewdrop’s ears to catch it. “Don’ go, Dewy.”

“Are you sure, my little lady?” he asks and it sounds like he’s moved closer.

“Mhm.”

“What about me, princess?” Swiss pulls back to look down at her and tuck a strand of her hair behind a little ear. “Do you want me to stay or go?”

“Don’ gotta stay, Dewy’s fine.” She tells him. The multi ghoul nods in understanding and leans down to kiss her forehead before moving away. Rain immediately feels cold and Swiss notices, so he tucks a fluffy blanket right under her chin.

“If you’ll need me send me the code again, alright?”

“Mhm,” she hums in agreement and Swiss smiles softly and leaves. He clasps a hand over Dewdrop’s shoulder on his way and squeezes reassuringly.

The fire ghoul sighs heavily when the door closes. He takes a step forward, twisting his fingers. “Can I sit in the bed with you? I can offer some warm cuddles, if you’d like that.”

Rain nods and wiggles a hand out from under the covers to pat the mattress encouragingly. Dewdrop can’t help but smile; he really doesn’t deserve this sweet creature.

He gets onto the bed and under the blankets and waits for Rain to get into a cuddle position she feels comfortable with and she decides to curl up against his side, similarily to how she’s been with Swiss. Probably so she can be close and warm, but so that she can kept her face hidden in the blanket and Dewdrop’s chest. He throws an arm around her little form and she doesn’t tense up, so he holds her closely.

“I’d like to talk about our argument properly when you’re big again, my little lady,” the fire ghoul says—quietly and softly, no pressure to respond or even hear him in it, “but I want to apologize now, if that’s okay.”

“I’s okay.”

“Alright. Well, then, I apologize. I’m sorry I was being mean and said all those bad things. I was wrong and I shouldn’t have snapped at you, Rainy. I’m very sorry.”

“‘m sorry, too,” the water ghoulette mumbles and Dewdrop frowns.

“What for, my little lady?”

“Was mean, too,” she shrugs and looks up. Dewdrop could just about melt at her big, blue eyes. “D’yoo still like me?”

“Oh, baby,” the fire ghoul whines, hurt by the question alone. How badly he messed up if Rain has such doubts? He feels terrible. “You have nothing to be sorry for, I deserved being mean to, and I will never, ever stop liking you, my little lady. Please, never forget that.”

“Mmm…okay,” she whispers and it turns into a yawn. She definitely needs to continue that nap. “I still like you, too, Dewy.”

Dewdrop smiles so big both his face and his heart hurt. They’ll be fine.

#hypno writes #little ghouls #age regression #little rain #cg swiss #cg dewdrop

[ideologyofone]

Love that the first thing Eda does while under the transformation stone is to try and see if she can still take her head off

#toh spoilers #why is she like this #also that’s not raine #idk who it is but that’s not raine whispers #eda clawthorne #the owl house #raine whispers #maybe

[theresistanceneverquits]

Me talking to a classmate I discovered loves Final Fantasy: I’m really disappointed Cloud didn’t beat the crap out of Aerith

Classmate: …Do you not like Aerith?

Me: I do! I just wanted them to keep the integrity of the original game

#final fantasy vii #ffvii rebirth #final fantasy vii rebirth #ffvii #cloud strife #aerith gainsborough #I know they took this issue and applied it to Tifa #and I LOVED that scene #but idk #it hit way different to realize Cloud was pummeling Aerith with his bare hands #THATS how we knew how much of a control on Cloud Sephiroth had #also they sorta had the whispers wanting Cloud to attempt to stab Aerith #but man #I really love the dynamic in the og of Cloud going to stab her and then pulling himself out of it #before Sephiroth rains down #but the remake is playing with things so well that in the end I’m cool with the changes #if anything I’m just sorry for the new people who won’t get that original version #to see the drama of what exactly has been changed

[crimeronan]

"Hunter doesn't even know half of it," the Inner Empress says, hugging her arms tighter around herself. She's rocking, a little, as though to keep herself calm. "He doesn't even know."

Raine keeps their voice very quiet, very gentle. "That Belos hurt you?"

"No, no, that doesn't matter, I don't care about any of that. He doesn't know about the others."

Raine's brows draw together. "The others?"

"The other guards. The Golden Guards before him. He doesn't know."

Darius stiffens so fast that the mindscape itself reacts. He's not making it easy to convince the inner self that they aren't here to hurt her. Raine suspects that he doesn't actually realize how intimidating he's being.

"What do you mean by that," he says flatly.

The trees shake. Dust dislodges. Luz shrinks away.

Raine touches her arm, still so gently.

"Whispers," Darius says, edging toward a snarl, "ask her what the fuck she means by that."

This inner self doesn't seem any better at expressing herself than her outward facade. Raine swallows. "It's okay, Luz," they say. "Hey, can you show us?"

#as usual idk if i can do a whole fic so. heres a snippet i started thinking about in the car #because it's making me fucking crazy. HELLO #toh #princess luz au #luz noceda #raine whispers #darius deamonne #my writing #darius who already had an ulterior motive re: ascertaining hunter's safety being like. i'm gonna kill belos again actually #raine like GET IT TOGETHER. COME ON

[pageofheartdj]

What to do when you have two favourite shows at the same time? Combine them xD

In my case, BigFam AU XD

Hunter is a responsible and stressed big brother like Raph(and still is a crazy teen)!! xD Vee is a chill sibling like Leo(and now I need her to have his sense of humour xD), Luz is as bombastic and supportive as April, a non-magical sibling among magical siblings xD King is sarcastic and dramatic like Donnie and Collector is cheerful like Mikey who is too chaotic and destructive (and their empathies are switched!)xD

#the owl house #toh #Big House AU #the collector #hunter deamonne #luz noceda #vee noceda #king clawthorne #kjh eda is splinter?xD cranky old parent who lost their prevous way of life who is still rocking their new way xD #rottmnt #fdk raine is draxum? very smart and very capable of murder?xD #and darius is big mama. good liars and very fancy <3 #and camila idk there is no one else.. my fanon tang?XD #eda clawthorne #darius deamonne #camila noceda #raine whispers #raedarila #BIGGER Fam!

[nutria--oscura]

Watching Smosh play sniper chess made me think of the kiddads playing sniper chess.

Like they got really drunk (before the betrayal) and used real sniers (cause they're idiots). Terry and Grant are one team, Lark and Nicky are the other, Sparrow is the designated sober (who didn't want to play and wants to kill the others for using guns whilst drunk). Terry and Nicky are playing chess whilst Grant and Lark are the snipers.

#for those who watched smosh play it #idk why i imagine lark as angela #(when she was sniper) #now i wanna buy nerf sniper guns and play this with my friends- #dndads #dungeons and daddies #whispers of the raine #lark oak garcia #grant wilson #sparrow oak garcia #terry jr stampler #terry stampler #nicky freeman #nick close #nick foster

[once-ina-blue-moon]

so I’m still recovering from watching and dreaming but have these two that I scribbled out after catching up with s3

#the owl house #toh spoilers #raine whispers #puppet raine #hunter toh #emperor belos #phillip wittebane #idk how to tag the owl house stuff ;-; #but yeah the two ppl who got possessed by belos! #idk what it is about puppet raine’s animations but OUGH #they r so good I have rewatched for the future like 17 times just for puppet raine

[dazeddoodles]

I imagine Hettie Cutburn causally doing top surgery with only a couple spells and her trusty scalpel. It’s like cutting slices of ham for her because she’s simply that skilled.

I was thinking that maybe on the Boiling Isles, regular surgery exists but they just use magic instead of anesthesia (the patient would go completely unconscious within seconds), and then more magic to heal them afterwards.

The whole whole process of being able to get top surgery, the actual surgery itself, and then recovering afterwards would be alot quicker than in the human world.

#asks #idk who to tag this as #hettie cutburn #raine whispers

[welcometogrouchland]

Sips juice box. I like to think the hexsquad start a garage band (goreage band on the boiling isles) briefly post-canon.

Raine taught all of them how to play (Amity on bass and usually vocals, Luz and Hunter on lead and rhythm guitar respectively, Gus on keys/synths and Willow on drums) and shows up to all their practices and the small shows they get to do (things like classmates' birthdays, big festivals/town parties celebrating Belos and the Collector's defeats after the fact, left-hand relief effort fundraisers and dubiously legal music festivals held in the backwoods of latissa).

Raine hypes each and every one of them the FUCK up and spends hours giving them all pointers on their individual instruments and how to play as a unit and, like, listen. Raine is not a parental figure to any of them, really. They just don't have that kind of connection to anyone but King as their step son. But the kids all think Raine is cool as fuck and they crave positive encouragement in their lives. They love Raine. They'd die for Raine. Kill for Raine. Try new tunings and time signatures for Raine (VERY scary). They like being in a band cause it's an excuse to goof off together, express themselves and experiment with a different type of magic, but most of all, they love being in a band bc the middle aged political dissident fucking their friend's adoptive mom is just really goddamn supportive of them.

Nothing particularly noteworthy comes from the band (you guys can suggest fun names for them that are more creative than "the hexsquad"). It truly is just a thing on the side they do for fun and they all have individual careers and hobbies they're far more interested in (Gus is a teaching assistant at Eda's school (qualified to be full time but not allowed to bc of his age, has to wait a few more years), Amity is a field researcher and budding archeologist, Willow is going pro with sports, Hunter is carving and Luz is pursuing higher education).

The most that happens with it is they record a low quality CD (or magic CD equivalent) of demos and covers they put together (Luz and Willow are the main song writers for the group. Both had a lot of angsty pre-teen poetry they work shopped and repurposed for lyrics) that ended up being sold out of the back of Steve's motorcycle (his main career besides burger flipping and baby sitting, all of which makes him infinitely more happy than the emperor's coven ever did).

Raine not only bought a copy of the CD (despite having already heard them play every song before and having been the one to help them record it in the first place) they purchase a copy for ALL of their parents/extended family (Eda, King, Perry, the Parks, Darius, Camila, Gwen and Dell- everyone). Years after the band unofficially dissolves (re: the kids got actual jobs and started having to deal w/ life as adults), Raine still listens to that CD bc they're just so damn proud of their kids.

#ramblings of a lunatic #the owl house #toh #hexsquad #luz noceda #willow park #amity blight #hunter toh #gus porter #raine whispers #hi. this is one of (if not my most!) self indulgent hcs EVER #I'm not even a Serious Musician™ I'm a self taught guitarist who occasionally listens to songs and fantasizes about being in a band #but i for some reason am addicted to analysing what instruments i think characters would play and what they'd be like in a band #idk man it's just fun as hell. i love it #explanations behind each of the instrument choices (besides general vibes) keeping in mind i only play guitar- #i think Amity would've started her music career learning bits of classical piano as a child #before her mom cut her off so she could focus on academics #so when she was older she had a bit of music experience but ultimately chose bass as it was edgier and less stuffy #she's not an amazing basist i think? she's good but she's not a huge fiend for technique. lots of simple punk and indie bass lines #manny played guitar and showed luz bits and pieces when she was young. her experience is no formal education #just a lot of noodling around and learning by ear #hence she's on lead bc she never learned chords #hunter struggles with a lot of fine motor skills tasks in my mind (sewing is his practice for this) so he's more content on rhythm #he's a big bar chords enjoyer but Raine tries to get him to try more versatile open chords out of his comfort zone #gus loooves the customization and sci-fi energy of a synth but in order to play synth he had to learn keys first #Amity showed him some basic chords and exercises and pretty soon he surpassed her despite being self taught #she's only a little bitter about this. mostly she's happy for him. Luz calls him baby mozart. he doesn't get it #finally WILLOW!! she had a baby drumset as a young kid so she could get some energy and aggression out #but the parks' neighbors gave them noise complaints and she stopped after feeling she wasn't progressing with it (couldn't do spells) #she likes it a lot! she feels like the foundation of the performance in a lot of ways and likes being important w/o being a showboat

[s-4pphics]

click!: in frame. 3 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you crave redemption more than love. [idk au]

WORD COUNT: 17.2k

WARNINGS: professionalphotographer!ellie, strugglingartist!oc who’s black, FLUFF????, angst, mentions of deceased family members, weed, sexual tension, SMUT AGELESS BLOGS/MDNI, they fuck a lot, fingering, pussy eating/face sitting, tribbing YAAY, slut shaming but consensual, fucking on camera, dirty talk mmm, STRAP SUCKING!!! SUCK MORE STRAPS!!, squirting, i think that’s it but i don’t remember tbh

A/N: omg finally….. heyyy idk when i’ll return to this fic tbh …. 😞😞 but i love them so much and i always will. fav couple imo… HOPE THIS MAKES UP FOR THE LONG WAIT BYEEEEE LOL

Ellie’s trying her hardest not to panic. 

Her car is quiet, not a sound coming from either of you, ears comforted by the whistling winds and rustling trees… And Pickle’s quiet coos. She sits in your lap as your thumb caresses her head; Ellie’s can see how she looks up at you, eyes full of love. She's never going to stop reminding you of how much your kitty missed your presence.

Her mind races with unanswered questions, one of the main being why you haven’t said anything to her since the two of you left her father’s home. She yearns to hear your voice. 

She yearns for you… but you’re not yourself, at least from what she can remember. She can’t shake the curiosity that’s been pestering her since you’ve reconnected; What the hell happened to you while you were apart? The energy you brought to your formerly shared home was irreplaceable: your midnight rambles, your nerve-wracked pacing, your cheery laughter… Your laugh. She misses it terribly. It’s not the same. Nothing about you is. 

Ellie’s itching to ask, but her father’s statement blares red like a sonic in her mind. 

Did she tell you she’s in therapy?

You want to talk… You suggested it! Ellie’s tummy twists in anxious knots, hands tightly gripping the leather of the steering wheel. 

… What the hell happened to you? 

“We… we can sit anywhere.” Ellie whispers to you. 

She stands next to you by the front door while Pickle wanders around with her toy mouse between her teeth. You nod in acknowledgment but your gaze stays forward. Ellie peers downward when she hears subtle brushing of skin, catching glimpses of your thumbnail digging into your index finger. She grabs your hand to get you to stop. “Sit with me?” She asks gently, and you allow her to pull you towards the black cushions. You finally sit and she follows, keeping some space between you. Every bit of her attention is on you; She hopes it isn’t suffocating. 

“Your…” 

Ellie follows your gaze at your croak, inspecting the framed photo of young her and her parents at her high school graduation sitting proudly on the bookshelf. Your pupils are overcast in sorrow, and Ellie’s heart jerks painfully. 

“Your dad’s really nice.” You whisper. 

Ellie wasn’t expecting that, but she nods, “He… he really likes you. I know he was a little… standoffish, but he likes y—“

Her words are cut when two large tears dribble down your face like rain on glass. She scoots closer, brows furrowed in concern, one hand intertwining with yours while the other cups your wet cheek. “Talk to me, babe. What… what’s going on?” Ellie pushes as softly as she can. She doesn’t know how to help if you don’t say anything. 

“… Is it me? D-Did I do something?” She asks with a heavy heart, and you instantly shake your head. Your free hand comes up to land on top of hers, warmth radiating off your fingertips. 

“Y… Your dad’s r-really nice.” You exhale before releasing a choked sob. Ellie’s up in an instant, squatting in front of you as she tries to get you to calm down, telling you to breathe, to count, but you don’t. Ellie catches your weight as you fall against her, arms wrapping around you as she whispers comforts in your ears, blinking away her own tears. You’re holding her like she’s slipping from your fingers, each guttural sob synched with the squeezes on her shoulder. 

“Shhh, s’okay… S’gonna be okay.” 

Her whispers aren’t only for you. They’re for her, too. 

“Ellie…” 

“Yeah, babe?” Ellie’s lips brush against your forehead, and you sniffle. 

“… Ever been to therapy?” 

“Um… no?” She ponders with a huff at the ceiling, “I thought about it, but…” 

“It’s really hard,” Ellie’s heartbeat sounds like the beating rain outside, flowing into your ears like water on rocks, “Never do it. This shit sucks,” You snicker wetly. 

“… Noted,” She laughs softly and plants a kiss on your forehead. Your eyes shut when she whispers, “Wanna talk about it?” 

You nod into her neck as she rubs your back, “I just… I dunno where to start…” Your mind races, brain filled to capacity with every mistake you’ve made in the past year. 

“Just… say how you’ve been feeling,” She suggests. Her heartbeat seems louder… or is that yours? Your tears fall from your cheek and into her shirt. 

“I just… really miss my mom.” You say shakily. Ellie sighs from above and holds you tighter. 

“Me, too… it hits me out of nowhere sometimes,” She mutters, “We weren’t even… close like that, but it hurts…” 

“What happened?” 

“She died.” She says plainly. 

You snort, “N — not that! I mean why weren’t you guys close?” Ellie mumbles oh, fuck, sorry between hearty laughs and you smile. 

“I dunno… like, whenever I think back on good times, my dad’s always there. I never…” She pauses and your head rises to look at her face. She’s deep in thought, and you patiently wait for her to resurface. You brush the flyaways back from her face. 

“She just… wasn’t there…” She mumbles, “And when she was, we fought. All the time…” 

There’s so much more that she wants to say — you can see it in her eyes, how the trees in them brush with memory — but she chooses not to elaborate. She nervously fiddles with the charm of the necklace around your throat.

“My dad was like that.” You whisper back. 

“What happened?” 

You grin, “He died.” Ellie’s brows droop in confusion. 

“… I’m sorry?… ” 

“Don’t be. He ruined my life… Your dad’s really nice, by the way.” 

A small smile stretches across her face, “So I’ve been told.” Her fingers travel over your face, over your nose, “Wanna talk about him?” 

“… I think I should…” 

“Up to you,” She whispers and your chest nearly bursts, “I’m listening—“

Meow!

Ellie cranes her neck to look up at Pickle sitting on the arm of the couch, right above her head. “Sorry… we’re listening.” You giggle and pat Pick-Pick’s head before laying your head onto Ellie’s shoulder. Words escape before you can stop them. 

“I hit rock bottom when he died.” You breath wobbles, “Like, I thought I was there already when I dropped out but—“

“You dropped out?” 

Oh… You never told her. Fuck. You’re pitiful, “… Yeah…” 

“Why?” She asks, concerned. You cringe in embarrassment. 

“Just… I was sad. I couldn’t focus on anything. My grades were fucked, regardless, so.” You can practically hear the whirs in Ellie’s brain turning with a billion questions. You answer the most recurring. 

“No, it wasn’t because you moved out.” 

“… I’m sor—“

You sit up, “Don’t you dare. Stop.” 

The sadness in her eyes is evident, but she quiets. And then stands and bolts to her room like a fucking track star. 

“E — what the fuck! Ellie!”

You rush after her but she’s miles ahead, already chest to chest with you in her bedroom entryway…

Or chest to folder. 

No fucking way. 

“I — I owe you this.”

“Ellie—“

“Please.” She whispers, “I want you to see it.” 

After all this time. Her fucking portfolio. 

“It’s the most… important thing to me. I want you to see.” 

Her hand is gentle when it closes around yours and guides you to the couch. She simply sets the leather binder on your lap and kisses your cheek. 

“Consider it my therapy… or whatever.” She huffs. 

You laugh wetly. Why the fuck are you crying? 

Listening to her explain her passions to you was… an enlightening roller-coaster. She’s captured imagery that reflects her emotions in the most subtle, but brilliant of ways; there’s joy, there’s anger, there’s sadness, there’s loss. You two were a wailing mess when she dedicated an entire section honoring her mother. Her father. They have the most beautiful relationship. 

Romance was last. And it’s filled with you in red, right in front of that makeshift backdrop from your old apartment. You’re never gonna stop crying. 

There was a time where you couldn’t look at yourself no matter what you did, completely shrouded in self-hatred and neglect, but seeing these photos of you from another perspective, from Ellie’s perspective… 

You’re a wreck, but she holds you. Tells her how pretty you are. How happy she is to have you back. 

Your sobs are eventually tamed by her rubs on your back, the kisses on your forehead. She hasn’t said it, and neither have you, but you feel it. That electrifying pull that takes over whenever you are separated from each other. 

You wake up with a dead arm on Ellie’s couch… with Ellie’s arms around you. Your heart’s rhetorical legs are kicking its feet in the air with sparkles in its eyes. You attempt to adjust your position to alleviate the static in your hand, but Ellie’s arms squeeze around you with a grumbled whine. You hold back a snicker. 

“Ellie.” You whisper. “C’mon, babe, my arm’s asleep.” 

Another irritated whine. You laugh quietly and push your hips back to put some space between you. A bolt of electricity flies down your spine when a cold, stern hand latches onto your hip. 

“You know better. Stop.” 

Your brow arches curiously, “Whatchu gon’ do, Ms. Bott —“ You gasp, “Ellie, holy shit, are you a bottom?” 

“… We’re talking about this now?” She croaks, sleep cracking in her throat. 

“I’m curious! You’re great at it so I had to ask.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” 

You scoff, “Um, it’s a compliment. You take it like a G. Say thank you.” You push back again for emphasis. Another threatening squeeze on your hip. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hide a smile. She's so cute.

“I said stop. And I’m not a bottom.” 

“Okay, lemme paint the picture. Fuckin’ milf from the club asks you to slide some silicone in her ass for shits and gigs. You doin’ it or nah,” You snark and push back harder on her, “You squirted in my mouth six tim—“

A thundering smack rings through Ellie’s silent living room as pain ripples through your asscheek. “I’m not a bottom.” She says in your ear and you attempt to hide a shudder. 

“Light work, no reaction,” You groan and Ellie snickers, rubbing over the sizzling skin to soothe the ache. “You gotta strap?” 

“Do you ever stop talking.” She snaps in annoyance and lets you go. You take the opportunity to jump in her lap, suddenly full of energy. Her hands land on your hips to steady you. “I don’t have a fucking strap.” She mumbles, eyes full of your tits.

“I know that’s right, baby! Hashtag BringBackTribbing,” You laugh giddily. This is the most alive you’ve felt in a year, “I look good on top? Huh?” You ask, goofily squeezing your breasts over your shirt. You jiggle them for emphasis, and Ellie flushes. 

Ellie tries to hide a smile, “You’re—“

“Hot? Sexy? The best you’ve ever had?” You suggest playfully. 

“— Incredibly annoying.” 

“Annoyinglyyy sexy?” You hum, and Ellie’s eyes twinkle with adoration. You smile and grab her hands, lacing her fingers with yours. She squeezes gently before inspecting your fit. Her dad’s fit, moreso. You hope Mr. Miller doesn’t hate you for snagging his drip… again.

“Did you pack a bag?” She asks quietly. You shake your head, kissing her knuckles. She flushes. 

“We gotta get you some stuff… if you wanna stay a little longer?” 

Your jaw drops in excitement, “Are we… officially U-Haul lesbians?” 

“I didn’t say that—“

“Don’t have to,” Your voice lowers as you unravel your hands, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “Wanna get me some trinkets to remember me by? Fucking…” You ponder, “Forget Me Nots or whatever?” You peck her ear, and her hands grab your ass. 

“T-That’s not what that means, you idiot.” Her back arches when your lips travel down her neck, “Are you in heat or something, what the fuck—“

“Mhm,” You grind down on her and she sighs, “been outta commission for a very… very long time.” You gasp like you’re dying, “Must… drink… life-blood—“

“Does tribbing —“ You move your hips faster, and whines escape you and Ellie, “aw, shit — fuck, cause chaffing?”

“Tryna find out?” You gasp when your clit catches on fabric. 

“Might fuckin’ be — fuck, like that —“ Ellie’s nails dig into your hips to help guide you on top of her, right where she needs you. The friction on your clit makes your thighs quiver. Ellie cranes her neck to connect your lips in a simmering kiss; your hands plant above her on the arm of the couch for leverage, pushing your hips down hard; She gets lost in it, no longer being able to keep up with your thirsty kisses as she whines for more. 

“Can’t fuckin’ — fuck — wait —“

You try to fight against her tight grip on your hips, but she’s forbidding, stern with her clutches. She pushes you up until there’s room to pull and kick her pants off, and you follow, tugging your shirt up and over your head before clumsily yanking your pants off, tossing the discarded fabric across the back of the couch. She’s upright when your lips reattach in a fiery kiss, tongues swirling messily against one another, releasing sighs into each other's mouths. 

Ellie’s hands are suddenly shy where they sit on your waist, unsure, silently pleading for guidance. You sightlessly grab her wrists and tug them up until they rest over your sports bra. She gasps in your mouth when your hands press down on top of hers so she can cup you, feeling your nipples rise underneath the fabric. You allow her hands to wander, squeezing at your chest and tweaking your nipples, body shuddering with every brush of cold fingertips against your skin. 

Heat pools in your underwear as she massages all over your skin; your chest, your thighs, the plush around your hips, anywhere she can reach, she’s on, icing your skin like snow. You’re shocked at how delicate her touch is despite the coarseness of her skin, the complete opposite of yours. You tore her apart the night prior, sunk as deeply as you could into her brain, her core, the concave of her spine; touched her from muscle memory. Almost instinctive, but she’s curious. Not controlling or domineering. She’s explorative and unfamiliarly soft, and you’re stunted, but the wettest you’ve ever been and she’s barely touched you. 

Her hands travel rise to pull your bra up, plush lips smacking against your collarbones as it's tossed to the floor. 

You’ve never not rushed to have sex; it’s always desperate and fast, but satiating for the time being. It does the job, gives you a boost of energy, gets you through the day until you’re craving it again. The dirtiness of it all… Ellie doesn’t feel like that. Dirty. 

Her hands feel like flowers against you, littering your formerly bruised skin with petals, orchids replacing the stood hairs on your neck and arms. The array of florals and green in her gaze are being passed onto you, and it’s making you lightheaded; it’s almost overwhelming. You’re torn between hiding from and searching for her. 

“Ellie…” 

She doesn’t answer, just traces your spine with her mouth on your neck. 

“E-Ellie…?” You’re unsure of what to say, but you need to know that she’s here with you. 

“Am I doing it right?” She hums against you, and your clit jumps in confirmation. She’s doing it too right and you need her closer. You nod and tug her bun out of her hair, fingers entangling with soft pili, strands softer than wool. 

“Lay down?” She’s not demanding… Your heart pulls at her tone. You pull away and keep your gaze down, at the wall, anywhere but hers until you're laying back on the couch, the cushions melding with your spine. Ellie’s mouth returns, dousing you in affections. She’s careful, each breath on your hips making you jerk. For the first time, your hands are stiff, frozen. You don’t know where to touch, so you keep them clenched by your face. 

“Good, baby?” She lures and you hum in approval. You’re not good. You’re about to start crying and your heart is fit to burst, to splatter and bleed tears all over her eggshell walls. You don’t know what to do. 

You feel wanted with every grab at your tits, how she inches your underwear down to litter kisses along the sensitive, each trail of her tongue littered with desire. Each breath you take tremors. 

I missed you so much, she keeps whispering against your skin, I missed you, baby. Couldn’t stop thinking about you when I left. You say it back, how sorrowful you were whenever she crossed your mind, how you craved her in the wee hours of the night for years, fiending to breathe her scent. Her smell is wafts of blooming roses, fresh rainfall, the sun rays peeking out from behind the clouds and dousing the streets in light. 

Your underwear is down in seconds, but she doesn’t rush; makes you wait for her touch. You beg her shamelessly, hips twitching with every peck on your thighs, leaving maroon and purple blemishes on your legs before inching up, up, up, until her breath hits your dew. Your thighs quake when she licks experimentally; one quick swipe between your folds has you gasping, nails piercing the skin of your palm. Another swift flick over your pulsing bud, and you’re whimpering, hips bucking. 

Look at me… Look at me, look at me, look at me, please… 

The desperation in her voice lifts you onto your elbows, neck arched downward until you’re met with her clammy forehead and soft eyes, patiently waiting for your instruction. You smirk down at her with a scoff.

“You’re cute,” You mumble huskily and her feet kick like a doll behind her, kissing your inner thighs. 

“Show me what to do?” she asks with doe-eyes, nibbling at the skin. 

“Gimme your hand,” she extends her arm to you and you hold her wrist, licking her middle finger like a kitten. Her thighs press together and you smile, tongue darting out to swirl around the tip before sucking it between your lips. She makes a pained noise against your flesh when you pull her digit into the plushness of your hollowed cheeks, pushing her fingers in until in cranes at the back of your wet muscle. Your throat closes when you gag and she lets up with a soft sorry. An uncontrollable giggle garbles around her finger at her dark cheeks and scared eyes. You release her with a wet pop!

“You good. Ready?” Her head bobs. 

“Hm…” You ponder, “Pussy is like… like an Xbox controller.” 

Ellie blinks. “… Okay.” 

You explain, “You really gotta feel around for the… buttons and whatever. You needa press them from the inside and… outside. At least for me… Everyone’s different—“

“I’m not fucking everyone, I’m fucking you.” She states with confidence, and wetness gushes out of you like a faucet. She eyes your cunt like a predator to a bleeding carcass, lips curling over her fangs at the flesh between your thighs. 

Your voice shakes, “J-Just sayin’… You just gotta touch me and I’ll tell you if it’s doing the job or not.” She nods and her gaze changes. It’s focused and raunchy when her thumb lands on your clit; she wastes no time, pressing deep, calculated circles over the throbbing button, drawing more wetness from between your walls. You eye her like a hawk, how she traps her lip between her teeth, how she stares at your pussy with unwavering devoutness; she replies to every last one of your moans with her own, like she can feel the pleasure she’s spoiling you with whipping deep in her tummy. 

Her caress picks up when your hips move on their own, bucking into her fingers, desperately seeking pleasure that you’ve abstained from for so long; it electrifies the pit of your gut, your jaw slackening when a curious finger inches down until it reaches your leaking entrance. 

Okay? She asks quietly, and you nod earnestly. Please, baby, please, you beseech, walls hugging around the tip of her finger. She’s slow as she stretches you, gasping at the feel of you choking her lone digit, her hips twisting down into the cushion of the couch for friction. Pride grows hot in your core whenever her thigh twitches, dragging her pussy against the couch at every ragged breath. 

You hold a hand up to show her when she asks for help, arching your finger like a hook, and she follows wordlessly. Your head drops onto the couch when she grazes past that ridge that makes you see stars. You feel her smirk on your clit before she takes it in her mouth. Your lips part over every curse squeaked at the ceiling; it’s too much too fast, it’s sensitive, you can’t breathe, but she’s taking it, hitting right where you need, pressing all your fucking… Xbox buttons—

Ellie’s fucking messy; she’s trying to replicate your efforts from last night: every spit-filled swirl of your tongue is now being thrown back onto you… in the best way. She’s a quick learner. Spit globs on your clit, mixes with the juices that build around your spasming hole while she whines like a bitch. Her mouth glistens in the darkness and your eyes cycle. 

Wanna fuck you so baaad, what the fuck, she whines to herself over your cresting moans, begging for another, begging for her to reach deeper inside you. You feel so good, you taste so good, holy fuckin’ Christ—

Every word on your clit sends vibrations up to your ribcage, right in your chest where your heart pounds for her. The couch dips with her quick movements before you feel her breath on your cheeks, smell yourself on her, fingers still nudged inside you. Your eyes flutter open and a smile stretches, “Hi.” You whisper. 

She smacks a wet kiss on your cheek, “Hi. Am I doing okay?” She twists her fingers against your nerves and you gasp, reply sharp. She hides her satisfied grin with another kiss on your cheek, and you can’t even snap how you want to. You’re desperate to tip, to reach that peak you’ve neglected for so long, begging her please, baby, make me cum, in her ear, seducing her until her fingers dig deep inside you again. 

You praise her between jumbled swears to the heavens, and she keens, whimpering into your neck when she feels how tight your walls get on her, pushing another finger past the tightness. You’re mine, It’s a promise and she groans into your neck, fucking you harder, You’re mine, you’re fuckin’ mine, m’gonnacum! Your tongue unravels like thread and you lose focus on everything except the girl on top of you; you feel the forbidden words resting on the edges of your teeth and ready to spill, the ones you swore to never speak again; but still, the unfiltered emotions rush through your blood as euphoria spills onto her hand, dripping down to the couch. 

E-El! Ffuuuck — oh, god I l — agh! 

Your orgasm splatters thick all over your inner thighs, coating her fingers in white as she works you; you feel her smiling even as your brain wracks, she likes this… Maybe she’s not a fucking bottom. Your ears ring while a speckle of drool dribbles from your chin; she licks it up before kissing you, moans trading between both your mouths, your taste coating your tongue. It’s not until her thumb traces your clit again that your legs slam shut on her. She snickers darkly into the kiss and fights against the muscles in your legs. 

I’m not fuckin’ done, gimme this pussy, she grits over your protests; tries to nudge her fingers even deeper inside you, but she’s struggling; you’re winded up so tight. How are you still cumming this fucking hard? You grab her wrist as tight as you can, and she scoffs, letting up. 

“Fine. Meanie.” One last press to your mouth and she’s up, sitting on her knees while you whither, trying to fucking recover whatever strength you preserved… None.

You muffle into the pillow, “Ellie, what the fuck—“

Your slurs are cut with concern, a gentle hand on your thigh. For the first time, she’s not freezing, “Wait, are you okay? I though—“

You send her a shaky thumbs up, “I’m good, baby, just… fuck—“

“Oh, okay…” A moment of pause, “Can we scissor now?” 

“Can I fucking breathe!”

“You can breathe after! C’mon, U-Haul lesbian!” She pats your ass excitedly. 

“After Hot Topic. I need shirts.” 

“Nuh uh,” A kiss against your knee… up to your thigh, on your waist. “Wan’nit now.” 

“Unhand me, hooligan — ow!” You squeak when teeth sink into your side. Ellie sighs in dissatisfaction, but she lets you go. 

With one last wet kiss on your cheek, of course. 

Hot Topic has lost their entire mind. $15 for a ring set? You almost convinced Ellie to steal them but she said getting caught wasn’t worth it. 

She did buy two new Spidey-man shirts, though… For a whopping $45. Geek. Bring. Back. Stealing. 

After ranting about price spikes to the cashier, you and Ellie barely make it three skips down the strip before your eyes catch a glowing, maroon sign. You yank Ellie back before she can continue down, a villainous smirk glued to your face. 

“Oh, Ellliiieee,” you sing.

She spins, “Hm?” Your lower lips traps between your teeth, an arm holding her tight against you. She stiffens at your hushed proposal, fingers clenching around your hand. 

“You ever been to 9M Sex?” 

You hear her swallow before a shuddering exhale. 

“That’s not very subtle, is it?” She mumbles and you cackle. 

“So… what do you think?” You say, voice laced with seduction. 

Ellie refuses to make eye contact. She’ll die and rot if she does; her corpse will be infested with grime and maggots in the next twenty-seconds. She won’t look at you… or the twenty-inch, plastic-wrapped dildo held between your legs. 

She burns where she stands; how is the carpet not sizzling into flames from beneath her? 

“… I dunno.” Ellie mutters; She does know. Knows that you’ve been testing her since you stepped foot into this demonic space. You’re a succubus with violent intentions with every grip on her waist, every whimsy confession you throw in her direction after eyeing the lecherous items on display. 

I wanna use that on you… You whisper when you pass every vibrator imaginable, You’d look so cute in this, baby… as you point at a fucking maid costume, I wish I could touch you right here… 

It’s embarrassing how badly she wants you to. It wouldn’t take much convincing to lure her behind one of these lingerie racks and pull her underwear to the side with your tongue down her throat… again, she swears it. One more salacious twinkle from those brown eyes, and she’s all yours, whenever, wherever. Anyway you want her until you’re satiated. The rush you give her is intoxicating. 

“Oh, c’mon! It’s fuckin’ funny! How the fuck would this fit in somebody!”

“I’m sure they’d make it work,” Ellie cringes at how high her voice sounds. What the fuck is she, twelve? Closeted all over again? 

You throw the… cock over your shoulder like deadweight, and Ellie blushes. She’s oddly endeared at your shamelessness; It’s very reminiscent of when you two first met… Why does that feel like a lifetime ago?

Light is beaming off you, and Ellie can’t get enough. This is the happiest she’s seen you since you’ve reconnected; you’re goofy and loud and full of color, completely unapologetic… Is it wrong to say that she’s envious? She’s never met a person so… secure. The store is nearly empty, but she can’t help but think that you’d act the exact same if it were stacked to the ceiling with people, parading around with your fluffy handcuffs and cat ears to match with a smile that glows for miles. 

Ellie would give anything to have that… The ability to dismiss conformity. Leaving her home is still a journey for her. She’s forced out of her own thoughts by your gasp, “Ellie… oh my fucking god…” 

“What’s the matter?” 

“… Turn around right now.” She follows your line of vision and nearly passes out... There’s absolutely no fucking way. An eggplant… but silicone… With an adjustable strap? No fucking subtly. Ellie can hear the rusty, unoiled, screws in your brain churning, conjuring up something absolutely disgusting… Her spine tingles. 

“Babe…” 

“Y’know we’re buyin’ that, right?” Your lips are at the shell of her ear, voice alluring. “I refuse to leave without it.” 

Ellie gawks at that phallic vegetable; Why is it so fucking big? “I’m not having that shit on my card history.” 

“C’mon, suga mama. Get us somethin’ special…” Her spine quakes at your purr, “Don’t you wanna fuck me… Ms. Bottom?” She can hear the smile, and her teeth grit so tight, bound to snap. 

Ellie whips around with a snippy voice, “I’m not a fuckin’ — “ Her eyes travel to ensure your seclusion, “I’m not a bottom. I told you that—“

Your hands cover your ears, “Blah, blah, blah! Lalalala—“

“You’re pissing me off—“

“Get that eggplant and show me how much.” You’re sinful with the low airiness of your tone. “I’ll do whatever you want.” 

“Liar.” Her entire body gusts into flames. You pout and shake your head, “I mean it! Take care of me with the best root vegetable, mama.” 

“You’re insane…” 

Your brow arches, “Maybe so. I’ll make sure to use a coupon. Ain’t nothin’ like 40% off a nut.” You waltz past her without a care in the world, throwing all your supplies on the counter like they’re groceries. Even threw the cashier the sweetest wonderful weather we’re having, ain’t it!

Ellie swiped her card with her eyes glued to the floor, shoving the receipt that read have a sex-filled day! to the bottom of the bag. 

The air in Ellie’s home feels heavy. 

Your eyes are locked onto her. Her back is to you where she squats on the floor, refilling Pickle’s food bowl with salmon pâte while you rest on her sofa. She can feel the intensity of your gaze through her jacket; it scorches her bones and leaves cracks in the marrow wherever they travel, goosebumps rising on her skin. 

Neither of you have said much since returning home — particularly due to Ellie being intimidated by your sudden calmness. The energy you’re radiating has flipped completely, and it’s only been an hour; The second you picked up your sex shop bag from the service counter and climbed into the passenger seat, you went docile, zoned in on every movement she made with floaty pupils. She’s still shocked you didn’t start undressing in the car. 

Ellie gives Pickle one last kiss before standing, cringing at the pops from her knees. You’re sitting on the crack of the cushions with your legs crossed, hands politely folded and resting on the point of your knee. Your eyes remind her of clouds, plush and delicate. 

“What.” She rasps. You merely shake your head, “I can’t look?” You ask, eyes glossing. Hers match, crystallizing like diamonds in the dirt, “Do what you want. I’m gonna shower.” Ellie’s legs move with the pounding in her chest, halting when you say

“I’m coming with you.” 

“That’s fine,” She rushes. It’s not fine. Her body’s going to give out. It almost does when you frolic past her, the carve in your now bare back on full display, discarded Hot Topic shirt in hand when you push the bathroom door open. 

She follows like a dog. A wolf. She’s so fucking hungry. 

Steaming water beats down on both of you like rainfall as your mouths meld together, swallowing every sigh, every desperate whimper. But still, your arms stay pinned behind your back. Ellie’s tried everything: sucked at your throat, gripped your ass in her palms, licked up your neck, but you won’t fucking touch her. She’s dripping for you, aching for your hands to caress her; she thought pressing herself tight against your body would finally get you to crack, but you’re stone. Tough as brick. Completely unreceptive. 

She knows what you’re doing… You know what you’re doing, and your attitude is driving her up a wall. Your ego’s fucking huge, that’s for sure.

All this over Ellie enjoying bottoming; She’s not a fucking bottom, she likes to bottom, to be taken care of; there’s a difference. It’s not her fault you’ve perfected your craft; Your touch is addictive; every nerve underneath her skin vibrates whenever you glance in her direction, let alone touch her. 

When your lips reconnect, it’s harsh. Ellie’s bothered to say the least, and you try not to smile. Your giddy laughter is swallowed by her when she traps you against the cold, wet wall, your back barely arching away from it before she holds you down, attacks your neck with precision. Your thighs squeeze together with each suction on your skin, hips pushing down onto the thigh that’s pressed tight between yours. 

“I fuckin’ hate you—“ She spits in your ear. Your grin is pageant-ready. 

“Doesn’t look like it, bottom—“

A heavy, veiny hand cracks on your thigh, and you squeak, “Just admit it! It’s not a bad thing—” 

“I know it’s not. I’m not that, though.” 

“Okay, baby.” 

“Shut up. Turn around.” You teasingly kiss her chin before twirling like you’re on ice, cheek smashed against the wall and ass sticking out for her, wrists bound by an invisible string at the end of your spine.  

“I got some waterproof stuff—“

Be quiet, She snarls like you did on night one, and you’re silent. Ellie sucks the skin right under your ear and your leg kicks out slightly. Her curious fingers slip between your legs and are instantly coated in silk. Your weightless head falls onto her shoulder, sighing like an angel at the gentle flicks on your clit. Yeah? She whispers when you groan her name out, chest and ears beet red. 

Yeah, baby, fuck, you treat me so good, You mumble back and she inhales deeply, walls jerking, Such a s-sweetie pie, The noise she makes in your ear is very reminiscent of a wounded animal, nasal and high. Her working wrist gets sloppy seconds after, and your jaw slacks. She’s rushing, eager for you to cum, to make her dirty all over again. 

Ellie loves how deep your voice gets when you fuck; dry and thick and melts her like butter, makes her dizzy. She would beg you to talk back if she wasn’t on this fucking power trip; she wants you to shake under her. Humble you a bit. Y-Yeah? She croaks. 

Ellie’s blanking; She’d planned to say so much when you pulled her into the muggy space by the chain around her neck, but she can’t fucking think. You smell so fucking good and your skin is soft as cotton. 

F-Fuck yes, oh f — uck —

A nasty grin grows on Ellie’s face when your legs start to wobble, hips arching off hers to get her fingers closer to your pussy. 

Uh huh, She hums, squeezing your wrist in her stagnant hand and forcing it around until it rests over your pussy, hold it open for me. Your hips buck back harsher than she anticipates; Ellie barely catches herself, forced to hold you up, trapped completely between her and the wall, fingers attacking your well-exposed clit. Her tongue swirls on your neck as you ride her hand; She wishes she could see your face properly, take in the way your lashes flutter right before your peak crashes into you, how the brown in your eyes cascade into darkness, full of lust. 

It’s her favorite part; how your moans pitch as your walls squeeze in one tight pull. They spasm in harsh twitches as your clit jounces; Ellie feasts on every single quivery alert of your orgasm, boasts in silence after each exclamation of Ellie, Ellie, oh, fuck!

She’s officially made you cum twice. Four more out of you, and you're fair game. Her stomach twists as she holds you down; You’re so loud and she loves it, that satisfied twinge in your voice at its peak. Ellie’s arm is tight around your waist; There’s so much pressure where she whisks your clit, lips closing around her two fingers. 

A tight hand closes around her wrist when you beg her to stop, Okay, babe, fuck fuuu— ah! —

But she doesn’t let up; rubs you faster, spits nastily in your ear, Say you’re sorry, she gravels onto your cheek, Make it good, too. 

Ca — El — uhhh! —

Yeah? Want some more? Tell Ellie how sorry you are. 

Fuckfuckfuck — I-I’m — Oh god, I’m sorryI’msorrybaby—

Ellie feels merciful and drops her hand, and you go lax against her. She’s forced to smash her body against yours so you don’t drop to the floor. She lets you ride out your aftershocks, the last bits of cloud nine, lips pressing into your shoulder. 

Your panting eventually slows, “Ellie…” 

“Hm.” 

“I hope you know…” you scratch, “… that I’m boutta fuck the living shit outta you.” 

She kisses your shoulder before scoffing with an arched brow. 

“Okay.”

Ellie’s choices in room décor never fail to amaze you. She’s so endearing. 

Her adult room seems much more lived in; some clothes scattered on the floor and slung over her black love seat, laundry baskets, open drawers with neatly folded clothes… so many mirrors. There’s one by her nightstand, two small, circular ones stood on her dresser, two full-body ones by her window. You can see yourself in every direction you turn. Her walls are made with black brick and littered with green and yellow fairy lights, draped decorative leaves surrounding her Spider-Man(Toby McGuire and Miles Morales) tapestries. Multiple black, furry rugs cover the floor. And the posters… Bless her heart. You’ve never seen so many constellations and planets on one wall, let alone four. Her bed is so messy, though. Her poor stuffies are face-down. It’s a crime how fucking adorable she is; Your heart is jumping for joy. 

“You don’t make your bed?” You ask slyly. 

She pauses her towel-wrapping, “… For what.” 

“Um, for tidiness. Aesthetic, if you will.”  

She blinks at you, “That’s dumb as fuck. You’re gonna lay in it anyway. I want a kiss.” She walks towards you and steals one… and another, and another until you’re both smiling. Your arms interlace around the back of her neck. 

“Make your bed or I’m snitchin.” Your whisper is followed by a peck. 

“Snitchin’ to who?” 

“P-Papa Miller.” 

“Don’t talk about him when I’m horny.” 

She unravels your towel and lets it drop to the floor, “S… Sorry.” 

“You’re not forgiven. Lay down.” 

You sit on her bed like a cat scoping the scenery, “Or what? Gonna hit me? In my face?” You purr. 

She rests her hands on your knees, bending her spine to kiss you, “Maybe.” 

“No balls.”

She smiles and smooches your nose, “You’re right. I would never.” 

“What if I want you to.” 

She scoffs and stands upright, “I’m not… fucking hitting you—“

“What if I ask politely…” You deepen your voice mockingly, and she shudders, “Oh, Ellie Williams, my dearest flower, may you do me the honor of bruisin’ my cheek with an affectionate handprint?” 

“Dude—“

“You don’t have to… but if you wanna, I’m not opposed.” You fall back onto your arched elbows, knees pulled high in the air. Ellie’s stare is disgustingly enticing as her eyes travel from yours, all the way down to your calves, but she makes no moves. You love how patient she is. 

“Your hands are so fuckin’ nice.” 

She snorts and looks down at them, squeezing a tight fist and inspecting the blue-green veins. “They are? They don’t feel dry?” 

“I love how cracked they are. Scratch me up, papí.” 

Ellie’s nose turns up as her ears glow, feigning disgust, “Shut up.” 

You smirk and your thighs separate, inch by inch, gooey lines of slick snapping when your pussy’s on display, “Make me.” She swallows. Ellie decides her hair has dried enough, shaking the towel from her head and crawling on top of you in seconds. Her mouth mushes against yours; Her aggression is so delicate. Her lips stroke yours until they dust your cheeks, down to your temples. You eye the neon glow-in-the-dark stickers on her ceiling, “Gonna fuck me under the moon, space ranger?” She licks over your mumbles, nibbling at your lips. “M-Maybe…” 

“Havin’ second thoughts, bottom?” You poke and her jaw tenses.

“Put your fuckin’ leg up.” 

You oblige, flattening the other so she can straddle your lax thigh, “Goin’ back to our roots, I see. Traditional lesbianism.” You sigh when her dripping pussy hovers over yours. Ellie has the prettiest cunt; You’ve told her probably a thousand times, now, but fuck, it’s perfect: soft strands of hair submerged in slick, plush lips surrounding her red clit. Your pussy flutters like she’s crushing whenever Ellie finds her balance on top. She fits her shoulder in the arch of your calf, and you’re patient, dragging a light fingertip around her areola. Her tongue wets her lips before she closes the space between your pussies. The muscles in your thighs clench at your intertwined warmth. 

Ellie holds your gaze, forest shiny with arousal with a hand gripping your raised thigh. 

“Send me to the stars, space ranger.” 

She chokes a laugh before kissing your ankle, “You’re cute.” 

“No, you,” you cheese. Her smile matches yours before she experiments, finds comfortable seating on your lap before her hips grind forward, just barely. Her maneuvers are shy, a bit unsteady, but she’s entrancing; Ellie’s face is perfect… Have you ever told her how beautiful she is? 

A trembling whisper from her, Why’re you looking at me like that? shows that you haven’t, not nearly enough, at least. Astonishment settles in your vision; You’re stunned to silence by her. Breaths leave ragged through your nose, eyes trailing over every inch of her face; the curvature of her nose, every pore, every scratch and scar. She’s an image, a neglected picture that deserves all notoriety. To be hung in ancient museums; A modern Mona Lisa. 

Ellie… 

Mhm? 

I really like you… 

She’s motivated, hips pushing forward and back, pressing down, as tight as she can get the gap. H-How much? 

Too much, and it’s a fact. A terrifying one that you can’t ignore. She moans in response and holds the hand that rests on her hip as she rides you, the cup of her breasts jumping, the remainder of shower water mixing with fresh bubbles of sweat in between the valley, glistening under the last bits of sunset. Tell me, tell me, she begs and moves faster, and your heart rate skyrockets, from nerves, from… 

You're perfect, y-you’re so— Her mattress springs wheeze under the sudden pace of her thrusts. Your whimpers seem to drive her, I missed you so much. You’ll never fail to remind her; shame on you if she ever forgets. Wetness squelches between your bodies, the friction sparking the wires in your spleen, back arching with every catch of her clit on yours. 

Stay with m-me, Her voice breaks, and your hand is numb from how hard she grips it, Don’t… don’t go… I like when you’re close to me… Your eyes attempt to close, but you can’t allow it. You drink in every inch of her, and you burn warmer when she does the same, always returning to your eyes before beginning again. 

You’re gonna make me cum, She gasps brokenly, disappointed. You’re begging now, for every drop she has. You want all of it; the claws that sink into her are desperate when her head falls back, her nipples tighten, her pleasure racking off the walls. Your hips buck into hers and she squeals, tries her hardest to keep her balance, but she’s cracking. You feel her throbbing, can almost make out her heart pounding over yours; she’s warning you, she’s right there, and the incoming destruction is evident in her voice. 

Her cry is long and drawn as her clit beats, blush burning in her cheeks as she scrapes at your skin, pulls at your fingers to center as she transports to euphoria. Tears jerk in your eyes when you hear her confession, heart shattering in your chest as darkness takes over you; it’s disgraceful how you’re silent as she lays everything out for you to take. You cry in silence as she rides out everything she deserves. 

I love you… Don't leave me… I love you, baby, I-I love you… 

Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… Exhale… 

You count how many seconds it takes for Ellie to breathe. She’s sound asleep with her back to your chest, her arms outstretched in front of her. Your arm rests over her hip as you welcome every waft of her citrus shampoo. It’s doing wonders pausing your incoming breakdown. You’re so, so sick. 

I love you… Don’t leave me… 

It replays in your mind against your will. Over and over, it bounces around your skull until your temples pound. You’re not sure what’s more nauseating: the word she used or that she meant it. You could see it in her eyes, promises of adherence, careless and unbound yearning and devotion. You’re to blame, though. You practically pulled it out of her after your own declaration; I really like you… What an idiot. 

You admire her in every possible way. Her bravery, in particular. 

You don’t deserve to be in her presence, but still, you rob her of time. She showers without you present, and you desperately wait for return so you can hold her again. She’s scared that you’ll leave her when it should be the other way around; It’s been your only fear: her realizing that she deserves everything you aren’t. Someone happy, pure-hearted, successful, just like she is. 

Whatever attracts her to you must be an unimaginable pity. How could she love someone as manipulative and slimy as you? It’s unfathomable. 

And yet, you still lay next to her, under her stars. 

You separate from her as slyly as you can to sit on the edge of her bed, palms digging into your eyes before purring erupts from behind you. You feel nuzzles against your back and you snicker; Pickle’s a vessel of comfort. She never fails to appear when you're in dire need. She’s beckoned over with soft clicks of your tongue, taking refuge on your lap and licking at your thigh. Your lips mash against her little head, peppering kiss after kiss until leaps onto the floor, exiting the room and moving down the hall. You use kit-kat as an escape even if your heart aches to be near Ellie. 

The journey to her living room is slow due to you examining the framed pictures on the wall. Some are photos of just her, while others are her and other nameless people you don’t recognize, all smiling wide. She’s being hugged and kissed on her cheek by presumed friends — maybe family — all while holding the camera in her shaky hands, thanks to the blurred image. There’s photos of her on vacation, on beaches, photos of fireworks and birthday cakes, and so many photos of her father. 

There’s so much light in this hallway, even in void night, and she’s in the center of it. You can’t stop crying. 

Your body drags to the couch to retrieve your discarded backpack, digging for your phone. You haven’t touched it since you’ve been here, and you’re shocked to see that it’s still charged. The influx of missed calls frightens you; they’re all from work. You rush to listen to your last voicemail. 

“Hey, sweetheart! It’s Professor Meyers! Professor Rosnon’s been trying to get in contact with you, so I thought I’d reach out, as well. We’ve got an amazing offer for you if you’re interested! It’s too much to describe on the phone, so I hope we can meet up in person very soon and discuss the details. Get back to me as soon as you can. Enjoy the rest of your vacation, buh-bye!” 

That was yesterday morning. Fuck your life. 

Your sketchbook stares back with impertinence as your tears dry; It’s been months and still nothing from your imagination has transferred onto paper. Why do you continue to disappoint yourself, staring at a blank page with your pen in hand? 

“H-Hey.” 

You don’t react to Ellie’s call, just continue to tap your pen on the edge of your book. You can’t stop thinking about her hands. She appears from behind the couch wrapped in her Princess Bubblegum blanket, scratching at her nose. 

“I was cold…” She mutters with a soft laugh, “How do you stay so warm?” You merely shrug, tongue tied in indestructible knots. 

“Can I sit?” Your head jerks and she’s next to you in seconds, kissing your cheek, then your shoulder.

“What’s the matter, baby?” She whispers against your skin, and you sigh. 

“Just girly things,” You chuckle darkly before bluntly asking, “Are you mad at me?” 

“No — what?” Her voice is as delicate as rose petals, “Why would I be mad?” 

“I didn’t say it back.” You say. 

“… Say what back.” 

“You told me you loved me and I didn’t say it back. I didn’t… say it. I dunno why I didn’t!” 

She stares incredulously, “It’s… That’s fine—“

Your book goes flying into the cushion before you stand, “Ellie, it’s not fuckin’ fine! None of this is fine! I don’t know if it’ll ever be fine! I’m not… I’m not fine.” You exasperate, “Am I… I can’t stop… overthinking everything! I wanna make…” You sob and pace. 

“I want you happy. You deserve… aaalll the good shit that life has to offer!” Your arms flail, “You’re so… I can’t fucking think when you look at me! All my brain cells fucking explode and I never wanna look away! I just wanna sit and stare at your fucking face all day long! Fuck working, fuck a mortgage, fuck — fuck everything! Life is fuckin’ dumb and pointless if your not in the center of it! I’m so—“ 

“I love you.” She whispers, water in her eyes. 

“I can’t… accept that—“

“Me loving you?” 

“Yes! Well… no—“

“So you want me to love you?” 

“Ellie, please, I can’t fuckin’… breathe—“

“Yes, you can. And I’m so in love with you,” She says with certainty, and somehow, your brain convinces you that it’s conniving. “I was in love when I left… and I’m still in love now. You make me so… excited about life.” She continues mutedly, “If you don’t… wanna stay, I understand. But I had to tell you anyway.” 

“I…” You wail with knuckles in your eyes, “I love you so much…” Ellie’s sighs in relief at your cry. She chuckles wetly before you feel her arms around you, “You’re such a fuckin’ lesbian, it’s actually hilarious.” 

“Fuck off!” You holler into her shoulder, “This is your fault! Why are you so perfect! Fucking… fucking bitch—“

“Say you love me again,” she pleads into your sweatshirt, and you repeat it like a prayer. I love you, I love you, I love you so much! Ellie rocks back and forth where you stand, a delicate, scratchy hand rubbing your back under the cloth. 

You're back in Ellie’s room. Your pen is moving. On paper. 

When Ellie ushered you to bring your sketchbook to bed, you couldn’t stop laughing; continuously questioned your ability, trying to convince her how pointless that would be, but that gentle encouragement in her gaze got you here: on another blank fucking page with an exhausted pen. You hate lesbians. 

The lines on the sheet are subtle, gently grazed across white with little focus; The image isn’t super descriptive, but it’s shapely. It looks like… something; That’s all you need right now. Ellie’s watching curiously, eyes flickering between your busy hand and the slowly filling sheet. 

“Pretty.” She says. 

You snort, “It’s literally a blob.” 

“To you. Art is subjective.” Your eyes roll before they land on Pickle resting on Ellie’s throw pillow. “What, you hate it, too?” 

“Don’t do that! She loves it!” 

“Look at her eyes! Nothin’ but homophobia!” Ellie nudges your knee with hers in disapproval, and Pickle blinks. 

“Be quiet. Keep doing that.” She nods down at your paper, and you smirk. “Yeah, baby? Like when I do that?” You hold her faltering stare and scribble blindly, “It’s gettin’ you there?” 

Her cheeks grow plump and shine, almost reaching her eyes, “Stop… or no more kisses.” 

Your jaw slacks, “You wouldn’t dare!” 

“I would! C’mon, finish for me — “ Your body crashes with laughter at the innuendo, and Ellie cringes. 

“Can you focus for two seconds!” She scolds between your cackles. 

“I’m so — sorry, it’s just too good, holy fuck—“

“It wasn’t that funny.” She says blankly. 

“To you! Comedy’s subjecti—“ 

Ellie holds you down by your hips before jumping into your lap, glare sizzling past your teary eyes. 

“Oooh, la la, quite the dejavu moment.” You snicker up at her, book and pen forgotten. 

“Am I a joke to you?” 

Your brow curves scoffingly, “Might be. And what about it?” 

“I think you needa break.” 

“Word?” You toss your pen and book with the quickness, “What we doin’, space ranger?” 

“You’re not doing anything. I’m gonna ride your cock.” 

Your eyes turn to globes as she undresses herself above you, throwing her tee and maneuvering so she can kick her underwear over the bed, only clad in her fuzzy Saturn socks. 

“Where’s the bag.” 

“… O-Over there,” You point where you threw it mindlessly after your couch escapades, and Ellie’s up to retrieve it. You eye the dip of her back and gawk at her fucking ass when she bends over to rummage through the bag. “Are… are you serious right now?” 

“Yup. Take your clothes off.” She calls back plainly. 

“… Alright.” You unclothe into your boyshorts in stunned silence. Since when is she this bold? She returns with full hands: cotton candy flavored lube, a small bullet, and the longest fucking eggplant you’ve ever seen in your lifetime. She throws them onto the mattress carelessly with a shrug, “I think you need some inspo. Am I the best girlfriend?” 

Your heart jerks in your chest, veins reaching out for her “… ‘Course, baby… shit.” 

Ellie holds up the strap by the leg adjustment, “I’m sure you know how to put this on.” She throws it into your lap before popping open the baby blue lubricant. Your face burns when you swing your legs over the bed to pull the harness up your legs. You can hear her giggling as the aubergine jumps up and down above your pussy. She offers to help and you instruct her through tightening the bands until they fit snug around your hips and thighs. 

Your brain’s in overdrive; the curved girth of the silicone builds arousal in your underwear, envisioning Ellie’s plush walls stretching and pulsing around the purple length, her creamy silk building around the perimeter of the green tip at the base. Your clit leaps beneath the fabric. 

“Are you… You want some head? Like… before this?” Your fingers point at the eggplant. Ellie shakes her head with the bullet in hand. 

“Just lay down.” 

“Ellie—“

Her hands clasp your steaming cheeks, her lips brushing against yours when she murmurs, shhh… take good care of me? Your heart flutters where it sits in her hands, Don’t I always? You choke, and she hums with a smirk before her lips curl against yours. Poking fun at her for being a bottom is long gone; This is the most sure you’ve ever seen her in this setting. You’re often the hand that guides, lures her in, eases the unwanted tension and leads you both to gratification, but now she’s doing that for you; her tongue slides over your mouth one last time before balancing herself on the edge of the bed and dropping to her knees, eyes lined up with the fat tip of the toy. 

Oh … Oh. 

You’re one of the most… talented people I know. She flatters, so lustful and genuine. I know that side of you is still in there. It’s all gonna come back to you… M’ just gonna help. 

Is this your proposal of being my muse? You quirk. She shrugs, her hand closing tight around the length, Could be. Depends on how good you think I do. 

Always do so good, You acclaim, I love you… fuck—

Ellie kisses the tip before purring, I love you more… Anyone ever do this to you? 

… Is this a trick question? Uhh… Like… like, one time. Despite your doubts, you choose honesty. The memory is lackluster and quick. It was decent enough. Merely for experimenting purposes. 

The twinkles in her eyes catch flame, What’d you like about it. She asks, but it’s not a question; it’s sharp, and you almost start crying. 

I-I dunno—

Before you can lie, a glob of spit lands all over the head. The glare she sends you is both icy and hot as she massages in the wetness, gliding it all over. Your knees buckle under your weight, and she leers up at you. You like it like that? Nice’n sloppy? 

You’ve had… so much sex in your life, and never once, in the history of the universe, have you ever been this fucking wet. If you were to go on a casual midnight stroll right now, sloshy noises would echo from between your legs for miles. The glint in her eye is knowing, and spit gathers all over her tongue as it swirls around the tip. The sounds her lips make are sinister; your chest concaves in a wheeze. 

When the tip slides a hair deeper on her tongue, you choke a pained noise. She releases the tip when your body stutters again. She says nothing, simply shoves you down onto the bed by your thighs, planting herself in between them once more. There’s so much fucking spit; it slides down in droplets all over the sides of the silicone as she slobbers on the crown, preps it for when it slides down her throat. Her mussed blankets are clenched between your fingers; your breathing is ragged. 

Such a good fuckin’ girl, Your tongue swells, and Ellie keens, eyes sparkling underneath stray auburn when they flutter at your praise. Your cramped fingers brush the strands away before knotting in her hair. The bun at the back of her head slowly loosens, trapping your digits in her locks. A soft whimper leaves her when you pull. 

For some reason, your eyes travel, only for a second, but you’re met with an elongated image of Ellie’s dotted spine, the goosebumps on her skin, the way her head bobs half an inch at a time, all in her full body mirror. You choke on a whine, and the muscles in Ellie’s back twitch. 

Oh my fuckin’ god, Your fingers tighten in her tresses and she whines, the arch in her back deepening. Your walls pulsate when you catch the glistens of slick spilling from her entrance at your sounds, both holes clamping down, pleading for you. Gonna let me fuck that pretty throat? 

Her moans are sloppy and wet. Her head bows, and you know she’s taking you deeper, nails digging into your thighs. It’s a curse that you can’t feel the tightness of her sunken cheeks. She pops off you, desperation leaking from her when whines, Fuck my mouth, baby, please, lips gliding all over the underside. You move on autopilot, sliding up further onto the mattress, feet planted on the floor and hips hanging off the edge of the bed. Ellie’s nasty; practically making out with your tip while you stabilize your position. It’s fucking messy, how her saliva drips down the base until it meets the harness, small beads building on your bare thigh. 

Stick your tongue out, you order before squeezing her face in your free palm. Her pink muscle lulls until it lays on the connective skin between your thumb and index, coated in drool. It’s not enough for you, though; Saliva builds in your mouth before it shoots onto hers, and she moans when it splatters all over her tongue, speckles landing on her cheek. A heavy hand comes down to pat her cheek, and she cries a quiet I love you. You smile and it’s dark, Uh huh, love you, too. Keep it out, your thumb drags on her bottom lip until her tongue rests flat over her bottom teeth. 

The hand that twines in her hair is harsh, Hands behind your back, you say and she does without questioning. You kiss her cheek before guiding her head steady towards the tip until it sits on her tongue. Her jaw widens when your hips rise off the mattress; you hold her still an inch forward, her mouth closing around the wrist. Her noises are quiet and docile, and she swallows; You shudder when you watch her throat close before pulling out. 

Okay? Want more? 

Her eyes plead like a puppy’s, tongue cycling on the prong. Breathe through your nose, Your hand loosens a bit in her hair, Just pull off when you wanna stop, okay, baby? 

One whine of approval and you’re pushing in again; Her hips twitch in the mirror as her mouth fills and you snicker; her thighs are coated in slick, a thin line dripping onto her furry rug. That’s my girl, fuck, you’re so cute, You grit and her fingers clench. The pace of your hips kick up slightly, testing to see how much she can take. You monitor her every move: the way her eyes float empty in her skull when her cheeks expand, how her breathing quickens when your thumb caresses her scalp, how tight her throat gets when you push too deep. 

Look at how wet that pussy is, Ellie moans over your thrusts. Slobber coats her lips and chin; dribbles all the way down to her chest. Your bottom lip traps between your teeth. 

You plunge too deep apparently; she gags and pulls off and explodes into a fit of coughs, forehead falling onto your thigh as she heaves. You kiss her head and apologize frantically… 

And then, she starts giggling. 

“Fuck — Fuck, I’m sorry —“

She snorts and coughs some more, and you’re stuck. You hold both of her sizzling cheeks in your hands and kiss all over her face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry —“

“You’re really hot.” Her voice is croaky and broken and more slick gushes from you. How shameful. 

“Me?! Are you fucking — are you okay?” 

“Mhm.” She hums before pecking your lips, “Fuck me now? I’m… I’m so wet,” She whispers like she told you something secretive. You can bet every minuscule dollar you own that you’re wetter, but anxiety settles in your stomach. Your girl’s asking you to fuck the daylights out of her after nearly killing her with the fucking dick-shaped vegetable on your waist, and you’re panicking. 

“Ellie, I’m scared as fuck, not even gon’ lie—“

“Nothing to be scared of. I trust you.” Another kiss before she mutters, “Take care of me?” 

“P-Promise.”

Your mind rushes. 

The past twenty minutes have felt like a blur; you hardly recall pinning Ellie down on the mattress to keep her still while your tongue swirled inside her, how tight her walls clamped down on two fingers, how she scratched and squirted and squealed for you to fuck her. 

And now she’s beneath you, hips twirling up, desperate for friction as her nails tear at your hips, but you ignore her. You’re gawking at the lubricated strap that rests on her throbbing cunt, how the inches almost touch her belly button. You’re trapped in a daze as your hips move mindlessly, brows furrowed. 

W-What’s the matter, baby? She keens at you. 

Nothin’ You’re gruff, Thinking. 

And you are thinking… about how Ellie’s going to take this shit. The length is concerning on it’s own, but it’s so fucking wide and curves up. You recall the amount of times she’s winced when you fingered her. It should worry you; how far she’s going to stretch to take it all, how much her softness is going to resist against something so big. Your head is twisted where it wanders; conjures up disgusting visuals of her begging you to split her open, to make her take it, to give it to her as mean as you can. You can’t help it, though; She’s an angel when she cries. 

Agitation creases in her brows, “Gimme it—“

“I think it’s gonna hurt,” You slur. Her taste swirls on your tongue when you speak, and it makes you wetter. 

“I don’t care. Give it to me,” she snaps. “Want you… inside—“

Your brow flits, “Want me inside? I’ve been inside. A lot, actually.”

“Don’t fuck with me right now.” 

“Ellie, c’mon! Look at this shit! There’s no way—“ 

“I’m lying here telling you to do it! Fucking —“ She sighs in annoyance, “Let me get on top. You weren’t supposed to do shit anyway.” 

“Ellie!—“

“Stop talking and lay the fuck down!” 

You plop down onto your back with a slew of curses, and Ellie takes — snatches the reins from you; she leaps into your lap, lube in hand, scolding sizzling on her tongue. 

“I don’t wanna hear shit. Just… let me do it.” 

A cheesy smile grows, “… You’re not you when you’re horny—“

“What the fuck did I just say!” She squirts more fluorescent blue into her palm and blindly massages it into your strap. It’s horribly messy by the time she’s done, taking it in her hand and lining herself up without warning. 

“… Wha—“

Her non-lubed palm clamps on your mouth, silencing you with a hefty eye roll. Ellie arches a brow when you hold two thumbs up in silent encouragement. You love your girlfriend! 

Ellie steadies herself with a mumbled, please, God, don’t let me die, right above the tip before her hips drop not even an inch. You’re a hawk the way you eye her tiny hole expanding around the girthy crown. Her breaths are heavy and ragged, but she takes her time; hips rising when she’s taken too much, sinking when she’s comfortable, and you’re hypnotized by it all. 

Her hand drops from your mouth and plants on your chest when you’ve finally quieted — besides the mumbles of ohmyfuckinggod when her lips manage to swallow up the tip. Her bottom lip bruises from her teeth, tears welling in her eyes and her thighs twitching. She looks like she’s hurting and your heart shatters. Carnality be damned. 

“E-Ellie… baby, we don’t have to—“

You’re so… fucking big, she squirms, and you stiffen. 

Your nails latch — sink into her hips and your jaw slacks; gaping at how she struggles to take you, how she winces and gasps at the stretch until she’s halfway. You’re doing that to her, getting her nice and full; it takes all your strength to keep your hips flat on the bed despite every cell luring you to stuff her to the brim. 

… It hurt? 

I don’t — know — fuck, Ellie’s eyes flit in every direction: locks onto the ceiling, the bed frame above you, your breasts and your dick. Ah, shit — 

Good? You confirm and she hums, whimpering to herself until her ass rests on your thighs. Any traces of dark purple are no longer visible, only hints of bright green glowing from the base of the harness. 

You whistle lowly, Damn… you’re real as fuck. 

Gimme a sec, She sighs, and you raise your palms, Whenever you’re ready. 

The longer she sits, the more relaxed her face becomes; flush darkening on her cheeks and above her breasts, more slick ringing around the circumference. 

… This is very interesting, Ellie says aloud, and shocked laughter bursts through your chest. She’s fucking hilarious, actually. Scale of one to ten? Your brows give a mischievous wiggle, and she pauses, hips moving around, testing the waters. Her eyelids bat gently. 

… S-Seven ‘n a half? She moans, and you smirk, You sure? It looks like an eight to me. 

She glares playfully, Gonna have to work for that rating. 

You squint up at her before sitting upright, chest to chest, and her arms wrap around your neck for balance. I’m waitin’ on the green light, you whisper against her lips. She laughs weakly, One star rating on Yelp. Too much back talk. 

You kiss her around a smile before pecking all over her cheeks. She grabs the back of your neck to hold you still, melding her mouth on yours. You swallow her soft noises when your tongues intertwine, hands cupping her ass. Ellie’s jaw slacks when her hips raise and drop, gasping on your tongue. You lick into her mouth and hold her steady, nails deep in her soft skin when her pace quickens. 

You grin, Yeah? Better? 

Ellie nods and a hand slips between you, and you groan aloud when her fingers meet her slippery clit, the tips dripping wet in seconds as sloshing noises echo through her bedroom. Your arm wraps around her waist to yank her down, and she squeaks, back arching, chest shoving against yours. You done showin’ off? You grit against her cheek and she huffs. Ellie’s hands shove at your shoulders until you’re laying flat on the mattress, and you snicker. Her hold is strong on your chest as she bounces, her tits trembling every time she comes down. 

The way she says your name is intoxicating; so drawn out and velvety and makes your cunt tremor. Your eyes trap on how she touches herself; one hand settled on your chest while the other rubs at her clit, pulls at her nipples, makes them shine with her juices. You’re aching to touch her, but you stay put; let her have her fun.

You catch movement out the corner of your eye; Ellie’s trapped in another mirror off to the side, shrouded in pleasure: head thrown back while she cries at the ceiling, slurred flattery of how good you feel inside her igniting the flame in your core. 

Look how good you’re takin’ that shit, you groan and the muscles in her ass squeeze in the mirror; you can feel the ripples in her cunt pulling at your strap, and it nearly sends you. What you’d give to feel her flesh choking around you when she breaks, succumbs to pleasure while you explode inside her. It enrages you to no end. 

Your pupils meet at the bridge of your nose when a clammy hand inches up your chest to the column of your throat to rest. Ellie whines from above, a shaky C-Can I? You're about to make a mess all over her sheets. You hardly register the desperate bobs of your head, and her grip tightens around your neck. Pinches down on the sides, and your soul leaves your body. 

You like that? She snickers dark around a moan and fucks down harder onto your lap, You’re so fucking — holy, fuck —

Your hand clamps around her wrist and she squeezes harder; the hold is threatening, and your clit jumps. Your promises are wet and muffled; exclamations of m’yours melting on your tongue. Your girl is going to break you. 

Her efforts eventually slow, and you know she’s getting tired. You look up, right into her eyes and you nearly break. They’re pleading, imploring you to take care of me, make me cum for you; she eases into a steady grind, and the pressure from her hips add friction to your clit. You curse lowly, and she whimpers back. You’re already so close from how long you held off, but you don’t want to cum yet. She’s getting hers first. 

E-Ellie, get up—

You barely finish your command before she lifts up and off, strings of slick connecting her pussy and your dick together. Your maneuvers are quick; you’re up on your knees in seconds and grab her hips, guiding her until she’s on all fours, facing all of the mirrors at the front of her room. Your mouth waters at the sight of both holes pulsing sporadically, begging for your cock. 

Your hand deepens the arch in her spine until she’s face down on a lone pillow. Your heart swells when Ellie extends a shaky hand to you, fingers curling tight around the hand that rests on her hip. You kiss her wrist and she sighs happily. You grab your slippery dick and line it up at her entrance; her hips push back when you nudge inside, wet gasps leaving her as you split her all over again; but this time, you can see it. You’re moaning with her, a thin line of drool landing on her asscheek. 

It hurt, baby? You grunt, stupid with lust, body on fire, Huh? She can’t even talk, just shoves her face in the pillow and says your name, over and over. You push in deeper, and she groans, sobs, begs for you to fuck me, baby, fuck me fuck me fuck me, please—

That’s all it takes; your hands clutch tight on both hips to yank her back onto your cock. A shocked squeal rattles the four walls that enclose such filth when she’s finally stuffed full: she spurs on your aggression, jumbled yesyesyess hitting the pillowcase, her nails sinking into your wrist. Your strokes are deep; you watch how tight she grips your dick, plush pink milking every inch that leaves when you pull out, desperate to keep you in place, a light rim of cream building around her lips. 

You and Ellie’s teary eyes lock in the mirror on her dresser, her pink lips gaping around each crude praise she throws at you. It’s music to your ears.

You hi — hit it so good, baby! 

Just like that — oh, god, yeah! —

I love you so fuckin’ much!

Her messy hair flies in every direction, bounces with your thrusts, enticing you to grip it. Dark red wraps around your tight fist and you pull, and she goes stupid, eyes crossing in her skull and glossy drool hanging off the edge of her bottom lip.

Your yanks get her up until her sweaty back meets your chest, arch deepening when you lean into her, lips caressing her tinted ear. 

You love me, mama? 

She shudders on you, Fuck, yes — so fuckin’ much! Love this dick! 

Yeah? It’s yours?

F-Fuckin’ mine… A—All mine— 

You reach around to find her clit, and she gushes around you, Show me who it belongs to. You beg and she meets your hips, Get me fuckin’ nasty with it, cum all over your dick, baby, your words hit her like a threat, and she wails curses; sucks you all the way in when the tightness builds; you push in as deep as you can and it sends her over. Ellie’s thrashes and you're forced to hold her up, arm thrown around her chest while she grinds back onto you; you can feel how hard she’s cumming as the base jerks with her pulses, your name a constant on her tongue. You grind into her until she shakes, nails scratching at your hips to stop you. 

Ellie’s limp when you pull out, purple coated in white creaminess, and she whimpers like she’s begging you to come back home. 

Lay down, you choke. Your walls won’t stop clenching. 

She turns her head to kiss your neck before supporting her weight on her hands. 

Nuh uh, You tsk, On your back. Needa see you when I cum. You say, and she whines like a bitch, slick and cum flooding at her entrance. You help her maneuver and yank her closer until she’s staring up at you and her entrance lines up with your strap, eyes delicate and trusting and obsessed. The trees in them brush with ferocity and need for you; a tight hand squeezes her cheeks so her lips pucker, and you bend down to kiss her. It’s gross: desperate and uncoordinated tongues entangle with one another, spit spreading on the outside of each other's mouths, loud smacking noises filling your ears with lecher. It gets you hot, and you melt when Ellie’s hand blindly grabs for your dick to slide it between her sopping lips. Your body flattens on top of hers as she guides you in, her mouth opening around moans as you stretch her all over again. 

There’s still resistance; How’s she this fucking tight? 

Your hips follow her guide until you're nudged deep, barely half an inch of green exposed. Her thighs spread wider around your waist so you fit snug between, no space amidst your bodies. Your elbows rest on either side of her head, holding you up while your tongues swirl. Your knees dig into the mattress and your hips move on autopilot; your tongue dazedly licks over her lips to her jaw, bruising the skin a deep maroon. The sounds that erupt from her cunt are filthy, begging for your cum in earnest. 

Your eyes flutter open to study Ellie’s face; her body bobs when your hips meet, her eyes squeezed shut and her battered lips glistening, sinful verbiage spilling from her, completely brainless as her peak approaches. 

Your head drops into her neck and she holds you close, moaning against her throat with every deep thrust; the stimulation on your clit is nearly too much; You’re so sensitive, but you drill into her, take what’s yours. Her nails are deep in your back and it stings, wetness spilling from you from the pain. You’re hardly fucking her, just grinding your hips as you chase your release, filling her deep. 

She’s mumbling about how hard she’s going to cum. Yeah? You spit in her ear, Gonna fuckin’ cum? And she squeaks out curses in approval. Ellie’s moans pitch high before slick splatters on both your thighs, soaks through the sheets. You lift your heavy head to watch Ellie jerk and sob and confess her utter devotion to you as long as you continue to fuck her like this. You love her so fucking much; She deserves to feel this good; to wake up to pleasure and put back to bed with it.

Ellie’s orgasm breaks her; her babbles slur and crack as they hit your lips: you make me cum so good, fuck me ‘til you cum, I love you so fuckin’ much; she’s all over the place but she begs for your pleasure, begs for you to release . The pace in your thrusts rebuilds; you’re moaning in her mouth, clit throbbing in your soaked underwear. You can practically taste your release where it sits on the edge of your tongue, completely unbound when you slur promises;

Gonna give you all my fucking cum. 

You take in how far her pretty eyes roll at your confession, how cravingly she begs for you stuff her with sticky white; it makes your clit jerk, once, twice, until your walls pull in tight—

Ellie’s orgasm triggers your own; the pleasure is so intense that it’s painful and your vision whites out, all while she coats your waist in love and desire and slick. You’re both so loud and can’t keep still, sultry bodies trembling against one another. You grow lightheaded when Ellie’s hips fuck down and onto you to prolong your orgasm, voice dripping in seduction in your ear as she encourages you to fill her up, to keep her good and dirty. 

It feels like minutes pass when the pleasure finally subsides; you can’t stop shaking and there’s no strength in your limbs, resting completely weightless on top of your girlfriend. Your head rests in Ellie’s palms as she pecks all over your face, thanking you, asking if you’ve found any inspiration. 

You’ve never been so excited to draw an O face in your fucking life. You need new pens!

“… Ellie?” 

“Mhm?” She sounds just as wrecked as you feel, and a smile settles on your face. 

“D-Did I earn that eight?” 

She exhales a laugh before kissing your sweaty forehead, “And that five star Yelp review.” You wheeze out a celebratory yaaay and Ellie’s body rocks with laughter beneath you. 

The sun is going to rise soon. Ellie’s not tired. 

She loves dawn. It’s her favorite time of day: the giant, boiling orb just barely cresting from behind mountains, birds flocking and framing the rays of light, clouds orange and pink and a misty blue. She’s taken hundreds of pictures of that gorgeous scenery alone; It’s funny how she feels like something’s missing from them now that you’re back in her life. 

She wants you in the center of every picture she takes. In all of her favorite places… In her car, in her room, in water. You’re a fucking star on camera. 

A freshly showered Ellie rests on her bed(with new sheets… her blue ones are forever ruined) as she rolls up, eyes glued to the back of your head. You’re sitting on the floor, right on her fluffy rug, the sound of pen scratching against paper surrounding you, secluded in a space of peace. Proud can’t describe what she feels. 

Ellie seals the blunt as she imagines what you’re creating. You told her she couldn’t see until it’s finished, but she’s becoming impatient. Ellie’s nosy; She thought giving you puppy-eyes would work like every other time, but you simply got up and moved somewhere private with a twinkle in your eye. 

Ellie reaches for her lighter on her nightstand and sparks, “Wanna hit?” You deny calmly, focused, entranced by your imagery, and Ellie sighs. She's happy you’re easing back into drawing, but she wants attention. She’s in love; Sue her. 

Ellie puffs in silence. The more she inhales, the fonder she grows. Why’re you so far away? She smokes half the blunt before stubbing out the end, placing it on the ashtray on her small desk. She tries to be sly and creep behind you slowly to get a peak of your creation, but the shuffling of blankets exposes her. You whip your head and shut your book with quickness, a smirk on your face. Her bottom lip traps between her face to hide a smile when you ask, 

“Can I help you?” 

She inches closer until her lips graze your ear, inhaling her cinnamon body wash on you, “Come to bed?” 

“In a minute, baby, promise.” You whisper back when she kisses underneath your earlobe. She hums in disapproval, “Now.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

Ellie says the first thing that comes to mind, doesn’t even bother to play into your frisky threat. It’s terrorized her mind for the past four years, kept her company when you were gone and she had to settle with her own hand. 

You’re a fucking star on camera. 

“… You ever made a tape?” The proposal is quiet and husky, and your eyes turn to globes, stunned and instantly filled with darkness. 

“… Are you serious?” Ellie nods, her tongue teasing the shell of your ear, lips inching down to your neck, sucking at your shoulder. 

“Oh, you’re crazy.” 

“Come to bed.” Much more stern, and you shudder, tossing your book to the side. 

“How do cam-couples do this shit, what the fuck.” 

Ellie’s attention gets pulled from her tripod and lands on you, back arched with her iPad in both hands that extend out to the bed frame. The camera’s on you, trying to get the perfect capture of your ass, constantly adjusting your form. 

“It’s truly a skill,” Ellie mumbles back, securing her camera. She ensures that the plate won’t wobble before carrying it by the stand and placing it beside the bed. “You look excited.” 

“Excited like yaaay or excited like horny?” Your ass wiggles teasingly and Ellie snorts. 

“Both.” 

“Y’know, for someone who’s never done this, you look like a professional—“

Ellie scoffs, “I am a professional. Degree and two licenses—“

Your jaw slacks around moans and your hips thrusts back, “Fuuuck, that’s hot. Rub it in my face some more, it’s getting me so wet—“

Ellie stares blankly and you burst into cackles, dropping her device on the freshly made mattress.

“Nerdy Spider-geek wrecks school slut’s pussy non-stop orgasms—“

Ellie sits next to you, adjusting the lense, “What the fuck are you talking about.” 

You snort, “Our vid title. Or — orrr, I gotta better one! Constellation station makes astrology-loser girlfriend see the Milky Way—“

“No one’s gonna click that.” 

“I would!” The bed dips behind Ellie, and goosebumps rise on her skin when your lips connect with the muscles in her back. Graze all the way up her neck, “And you would, too. Lil’ freak.” Ellie’s core gives a tight squeeze. What a change of fucking events: used to be bullied over being the school’s freak show, and now her body’s begging her girlfriend to throw it in her face one more time. 

“I’m not posting anything.” 

You tsk, “A shame. Could’ve used that OnlyFans bag.” A dreamy sigh from you, “You know you can do whatever you want to me, right?” 

“I’ve been told.” 

“And I meant it.” You’re a fucking siren, “Your time to shine, baby. Nothing’s off limits in my book.” 

Ellie’s stern, “I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

“Whatever you like, I like. Wanna feel how wet you make me, space ranger?” 

You and Ellie are polar opposites, and somehow share the singular fucking braincell when you’re horny. You have the same effect on her. She turns her head to meet your eyes, “Can I fix the camera first?” 

A gentle peck on her cheek gets her body thrumming, “Ay, ay, captain.” And you fall back onto the mattress, rolling until you reach the other side of the bed. You’re up and running to the bathroom… with the 9M Sex bag in your hand. 

… Ellie’s never been more afraid(wet) than she is right now. 

The set up is ready. One tripod simply wasn’t enough to capture all that you bring; Ellie found another thrown in the back of her closet and got it situated, angled and ready, at the foot of the bed where her phone and iPad lay. She doesn’t know why she’s so nervous like you didn’t just beat her walls down a few hours ago. This discarded blunt isn’t helping her, either. 

Ellie’s confident that she’ll faint mid-stroke—

“Smells like pussy in here.” 

Ellie blushes and turns at your call from the bathroom entryway. She’s engulfed in flames at the sight of you. 

… You’re cute. She’ll give you that. 

She scoffs a laugh around smoke at the alien antennas in your locs, and the green alien head on the triangle of your thong. Her eyes squint as she watches you pose in the doorway, bent over, squeezing your breasts. She scales your body as you prance over until you’re standing in front of her, staring down into her eyes. 

“Whatcha think, space ranger?” You seduce, pushing your tits into her face, “Wanna teach a clueless little alien about sexual healing?” 

“You’re… insane.” 

“You love it,” … She does. Fuck, she does. You leer at her, “Is she rollin’?”

… Weed? Always.

… Camera. Camera! 

Ellie drags her free hand up the back of your thigh while sticking her blunt between her lips, blindly reaching around to the camera. Her fingers feel around until a small beep slices through the weighted silence, the red light indicating the start of a recording. 

“She is now.” Ellie takes one last rip, and it chokes her a bit, smoke wafting up to your nostrils before she stubs it out, discarding her tray and lighter to the side. The scent gets you giddy. 

You hum, and Ellie falls back at your shove, and 

she’s pounced on in no time. Your finger locks around her Spider-Man charm to pull her closer. You’re slow at first, teasing her mouth with yours before pecking, licking over her lips like a kitten while she gets handfuls of your bare ass. Boldness sparks in her chest when she thinks about the camera directly behind you; her hands move mindlessly, pulling your asscheeks apart until the string is right above your stretched asshole, your pussy lips swallowing the tiny triangle. 

You moan into her mouth when the bunched fabric rubs against your clit; the fabric is already soaked through and sticky, and the kiss breaks with Ellie’s satisfied grin. 

Adrenaline jolts through her body when her mouth trails down your jaw, a tight hand clamped around your soft cheeks to force your head wherever she needs it. She drinks up every small noise you breathe into the muggy air, mouth tickling the shell of your ear like a feather, Ride my fucking face, she whispers — demands; it sounds like she’s begging, and you gasp. 

Do it, Ellie beckons, Show out, superstar. 

Your girlfriend is so fucking sexy… But, of course, your dark thoughts win. 

“S-Should I make, like… alien noises when I bust, or somethin’? E.T, phone home type shit?”

Ellie snaps with a glare, “Don’t kill my fucking vibe.” 

“Okay, damn! My fault! Just tryna be cute for the vlog.” 

“… It’s not a fucking vlog—“

“Day in the life of annoying artistic lesbians who are also gay—“

“I'm drying up.” Ellie’s palms dig into her eyes. 

“No you’re not,” you purr before climbing up her torso. She grabs your waist before you reach her chin. 

“Turn around. Want the cam to see your face.” 

Your antennas wiggle on your head when you switch positions, “… Beep bop beepboop—“

You fall over in hysterics at Ellie’s hollered laughter. “Oh my — PFFFT —“

“STOP FUCKING LAUGHING!” You scream back at her, wiping tears from your face, “I’m tryna be cute!” You huff and swing a leg over her waist, and Ellie silences. The length of your back is on display for her; You’re cracking jokes about fucking alien sex but she’s not listening. How could she when your ass rests pert on her chest, when the sight of your dripping cunt and tight asshole is right there? Practically on her chin—

C’mere. Back up a little. She whispers, but you’re shy, only inching up her chest with sparkly eyes. Ellie rolls hers before wrapping her arms around your thighs to yank you back. She snickers and eyes the wet alien over your clit. 

Her smile drops when a sly hand slides over your ass, index finger hitching into the string of your thong to pull it to the side. A moan leaves Ellie’s mouth when your pussy clenches from above, and you snort mockingly. 

You’re easy as fuck. Such a cutie pie—

Shut the fuck up, you only laugh harder, and Ellie’s hands twitch, irritation sizzling in her fingertips. You’re so fucking annoying and she’s soaking. She’d drink you for days. 

The next moments go by in a flash; your thong is shredded by icy hands, dangling limply from your waist as excited squeals leave your mouth. Ellie’s tongue is aggressive where it swipes all over your cunt, arms synched tight around the meat of your thighs to hold you still. Your smell intoxicates her, turns her mind lucid, makes her squirm and ache. Every second that passes, her excitement to re-watch your creation grows. She wishes she could see you. 

You love cameras, attention — limelight. You deserve every inkling of praise; mutters against your cunt how good you are, how soft your pussy is, how bad she wants to make you cry. Ellie growls into you when your hips start rocking on her face, testing the waters with your hands planted on her thighs. Her arms drop flat on the mattress, allowing you full access to use her. Ellie’s tongue lays over her bottom lip, and your movements bolden. Your hips curl, slick smearing all over her mouth to the tip of her nose. 

F—Fuck, baby, oh shit— 

Ellie moans like she’s urging you to drench her entire face. Her tongue slithers inside your cunt and you choke out her name, nails sinking into her thighs. The muscle moves inside you with purpose, swirling up against your walls as they squeeze down. The cries that leave are too much for her; she swears there’s a puddle left on the blankets beneath her. 

When you gasp, fuck, baby, cumming for you, Ellie whimpers and her thighs squeeze together. Her arms pull you as close as she can get you, slurping and sucking at your clit as it pulses through your orgasm. You beg her not to stop, thighs quaking around her head. Ellie alternates from flicking your clit to sucking cum from your slit, and she envisions your gorgeous eyes rolled back beneath her eyelids. 

Wanna make me cum again, baby? Yeah? Your sonics tremble alongside Ellie’s thighs. She knows you're smiling like an angel at the lens and she sobs for more of your cum, more of your taste. Your moans pick up with the snaps of your hips once more. 

F-Fuck me with your tongue, Ellie, You plead and she listens; Your walls melt around her, softness closing in around the wet muscle. Ellie’s whole body twitches when a soft hand rests above her boxers, right on her swollen bud and rubs. She's bucking up into your palm, desperate for friction, but you don't... give it. She groans against your lips and sucks you harder, and you squeal.

It doesn't take long for you to peak again; slick glides down Ellie's chin and drowns her, coats her throat in dreamy stickiness with her nails in the fat of your ass.

She slurps and eats you up until you're running up the mattress with her name melted on your tongue.

“How the fuck — oh my fuckin’ god, put your head down—“

Ellie snickers at you struggling to get her in the frame of the iPad camera. She comfortingly rubs over your ass, “There’s a camera right in front of you, babe—“

“Not good enough. I’m tryna watch you hit it.” 

More jerking around. More flipping of the device. More sighs of annoyance before you strike gold. 80% of Ellie’s face is in frame… alongside her pretty titties. Mission somewhat accomplished. You watch her smile through the lens before sending a thumbs up. The iPad gets adjusted before you throw her one behind your head. 

“Uhhh… So what now?” 

“What do you mean.” 

“I just… stick it in?” 

“Mhm. Touch anywhere. Fuck me however you want. Make love to me. I’ll love it. I love you.” 

Your voice turns her into the largest puddle of pink glitter. That deep, broken twinge gets her bones sizzling. “I love you more.” 

Your hips buck back on her so hard that she almost falls over, but she managed to catch what you’re throwing. Barely. Her heart’s in her throat. 

“Prove it…”

Ellie can see your smile and her teeth grit at your snicker. 

“Fucking bottom.” 

Your head gets pushed down into the sheet, and you smile, antennas standing tall. You grin so goddamn wide. Lottery. Lottery— 

Everything is silent… Minus the little alert of the started recording when Ellie whispers against the curve of your ear, 

“Don’t start that shit again. Don’t.” 

You whimper as audibly as you can with a smushed cheek. It seems to push her; she’s reaching between your legs and your clit leaps in appreciation. In infatuation. Her fingers slosh between a deep brown and pink as she messily kisses your sweaty back. 

“Behave.” Her rubs are deadly on your clit, 

“I-I know we were joking earlier—“

“What now—“

“You like being called daddy?” 

Everything stops. Your brain never fails to ruin your satisfaction. “No, what the fuck—“

“Damn… forreal?” 

“Dude—“

“Just asking! You may proceed.” 

When Ellie senses that you’ll finally shut the fuck up, she does, and you’re happy again. 

“If you call me mommy, I’ll strangle you.” Ellie slurs wetly against the end of your spine. She tsks when she catches your ass and cunt squeeze down at the threat, walls sucking hard on the finger she hadn’t registered slipped in. Fucking high-fiving each other. 

The curve in your spine deepens when a certain tip rubs up against your clit. Nestles right in between the plump of your lips. Slides back and forth slowly. 

You’re so loud already… You’re watching your own nut build right in front of your eyes; You can’t help it. In front of your sexy ass girlfriend. Mainly due to the mirroring of Ellie staring at where you two connect with such thirst. She’s ravenous for you and you fucking love her. 

“Fuck me, baby, please, please.“ 

“I like that.” She states plainly, so you get louder. 

“Please, Ellie, please? Ple—”

A recording alert and a flash appears in your lens. Ellie holds her phone up as she captures you from the back; all over your spine, your ass, your holes that desperately twitch and beg for her entry. 

“Shhh, gotchu, honey. Just playing with you.” She coos quietly. Your body wracks at her voice and she hides a smirk with teeth in her lip. “Wish you could see how much you’re leaking right now. So fucking sexy.”

No brain. Brainless. You’re brainless. Just Ellie and pleasure and happiness and love. Your blinks are lost. You may never go back to your dad’s again. 

You can’t see her guide herself in but you feel it. Feel that nudge inside and your mouth gapes. The iPad tremors with your shaky movements as she presses in. She takes her time, captures every pant and jerk of hips before she halts them with a stern hand. When she’s fully sat inside you, she locks eyes with you in the front frame. Drinks in your muted pleads of her to wreck you however she pleases. 

Ellie holds your gaze when she pulls out. She’s battling; conflicted between watching how your eyes welt and shine or memorizing the stretch of your cunt. Jade crystals flit back and forth. Anywhere they can reach. 

H-How ya doin’ back there? 

A harsh thrust from your girlfriend earns her a guttural noise from your lips before she mumbles, Think m’ good. 

You are, baby, fuck—

Praise gets her going. She stops her own recording and tosses her phone some fucking where before hands close around your hips — tightly, so tightly. Holds you steady and still before she takes. 

Ellie might not use this fucking iPad footage. The screen fucking rattles every time she hits and crests deep inside you, bruising you. All that’s caught in the frame is your lovedrunk eyes and your loud, slobbery mouth and glittery antennas bouncing on your head. Quick glimpses of Ellie’s tits jumping. 

There’s a constant change of pace and it gives you whiplash. Her fucking goes from brutal to passionate to leisure to just fucking grinding while she’s fully submerged in your wetness. She’s experimenting, as she should! You treasure every grab and scratch and tug at your skin. She’s yanking and pulling at you like a fucking rag doll and your body goes lax. 

So does your fucking tongue, apparently. 

“The fuck did you just say?” Ellie spits down at you. 

But she doesn’t stop. She fucks you faster, and you start sobbing. 

“Y-You fucking heard me. I know you wanna—“

“I’m not saying that shit.” Her hips snap with intent to punish and the device falls from your hands, face planted deep in her soft blankets and tugging at her sheets. 

“Just say it! Sayitsayit—“

Ellie groans like an animal from behind you. Grabs the back of your neck and shoves your face down into her sheets, muffling your shouts and begs to degrade the living shit outta you. Call you disgusting names that got the two of you in that complicated mess when you first met. The slapping of wet skin and your screams make her crazed and wound up so tight that she almost slips. 

Ellie’s trying to ignore the piercing, tearful pleads of callmeaslutcallmeaslutimyourwhore but she’s leaking like a fucking faucet. Knows she shouldn’t reopen that fucking Pandora’s box when you’re so vulnerable, but she’s fuckdrunk and so are you. 

“You gonna cum?” 

You nod. 

“You like when I’m mean to you?” 

You nod faster and Ellie’s tummy squeezes. She scoffs a disgusting laugh before her body melds against your back, your angled knees slipping down the mattress so she’s fully laid on you, viperid tongue right at your ear… 

It's just this once... You know she loves you... One little jumbled slur wouldn't do too much harm. You're begging her for it, aren't you?

Something in your mind breaks over the next minute and a half. The last memory you have is Ellie’s teeth nipping at your lobe before she whispered, 

I love turning you into my nasty little slut. 

And that was that. You entered another universe filled with white noise and colorful lights and Ellie and… a lotta wet. You could’ve been in the Atlantic with how drenched her mattress is right now. You owe her an apology. 

Top 2 best nuts of your life and it’s not 2. 

Your pussy’s still twitching around her even though she’s left you immobile. You hardly register her mumble against your back, 

“I didn’t get my pic.”

You make a questioned, weak noise. Your index finger twitches, so she grabs your wrist to kiss it. 

“I needa pic of your O face. I’m starting a collection. We gotta run it back again.” 

Another broken wheeze. A death sentence is what you have. What your girlfriend will give you. 

Ellie was a virgin when you met her… but was she really? 

You have no idea what time of day it is, what day it is, or where your fucking cat has ventured off in the house, but you’re about seven —maybe eight— nuts deep, and your girlfriend is still fucking you. 

You thought she was joking when she shoved her phone in your hand and instructed you to capture the moment right before you bust all over her, but she actually meant it… What the fuck does she think you are? Smart? Not in this fucking state. How do you even work this goddamn phone again? 

C’mon, baby. I just need a good one. Give it to me ‘n I’ll stop. 

Her pleading moan is a double-ended sword. Your legs are so sore from being held in air as she plowed you, but you’re also a deranged, sex-obsessed, girlfriend-obsessed lesbo. Do you really want her to stop or has the dopamine melted all your brain cells? The amount of mid-orgasm photos you’ve taken over the past hour could’ve filled a museum, but Ellie’s always dissatisfied, saying that she can barely see your face because you kept wiggling around. What does she expect! 

She’s digging for that picture, though. Right at your cervix. 

Been such a good little slut. Taking it so good. Just do this last little thing for me. 

You’re nodding but you’re not listening. Bells and whistles ring in your ears as your filled hand shakes. The tightness in your walls steals your breath for a second. 

Tell me when you're boutta cum. 

You somehow manage to get a squeak out, barely audible, but Ellie gets the point. Her hands find refuge underneath your knees and bring them up higher while she mouths at your neck. It happens all over again; that cresting feeling right before you crash. 

I love you. Make it good. 

Ellie’s ears split at your shouts of her name, but she grins madly at the sound of frantic camera clicks coming from above her. She plants a doting kiss on your cheek. 

You hope you did. You really hope you did.

taggiessssss thanks 4 waiting :3 @dyk3ang3l @ellieloml @inf3ct3dd @fromminaa @womenofarcane @sawaagyapong @mina-281 @aouiaa @bbglmfao @i00rii @sakiigami @starologist @southelroys @diddiqueen @trackinglessons @ellieswhorcrux @villainousbear @p4ison1vy @tohoko @yuckyfucky @dollyfleurs @elsbunny222 @sevsbimbo @amiorca @alittlextrahoney @gato-chino @topiatwin @r3wbeef @elliesatchel @muthafuckingstargirl @callmewhenyoukan @macaroni676 @draculurasblog @ellieaesp @@gravygranules @elsblunt

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x black!reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams angst #lesbian #tlou smut #in frame ✎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ #works 𖧧࣪

[fiapartridge]

♡ how you get the girl | quinn hughes

quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: after you walk out on quinn, he realizes he made the biggest mistake of his life, leading him to your doorstep. wet, soppy, and begging for forgiveness.

warning(s): cursing, kissing and grinding and stuff leading to sex but no actual sex described??? idk it just gets heated, angst but there is a happy ending!!!! <33333

author's note 💌: i love writing for quinn. he's my fave. anyways, i got a request to do a part two to the "you're losing me" imagine so! hope u enjoy!

read part one here !!

YOU LEFT HIM. And for a moment, the longest moment of his life, it felt like Quinn’s heart stopped beating. It felt like a wake-up call. 

Ever since becoming captain, his focus shifted. His eyes grew tired, waking up before you had the chance to pepper him with kisses in the morning. His arms felt sluggish, coming home later and later, trying to perfect his performance, trying to be a good captain for the team, trying to be the person they needed after a terrible, horrific season. He was trying so hard to be what they needed that he forgot about the most important person in his life, and what she needed.

The second you walked out the door, he knew he fucked up. He knew he should’ve called out for you, or kissed you before you had the chance to break up with him and end it all, or promise to be there, to be what you needed. But that argument—it felt like the end. He hadn't lost you in that moment; you had been slipping away for much longer.

“Hey, where’s Y/N going?” Brock drunkenly draped his arm over Quinn’s shoulder, watching him watch the door like you were going to come back and rush into his arms, saying that it was all a huge mistake; that you didn’t mean what you said; that you didn’t care that Quinn had made no time for you in the months he became captain. But that’s not who you are. When you say something, you mean it. 

“I fucked up,” he whispered, like he didn’t want to believe that it was true. 

Brock’s brows raised, his words a bit slurred but still comprehensive. He pouted. “What did Captain Huggy do now?”

“She asked me if I wanted to marry her.”

Brock released a breath as if gaining his sobriety. “Oh shit. What’d you say?”

Quinn gulped, not believing the words he was gonna say. Of course he wanted to marry you. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He would give up anything to be with you, even hockey. And he should’ve said it, he knows he should’ve said it. But would you even believe him if he did? He hasn’t spent a waking minute with you for the past three months. You don’t do that to someone you love. “I said no.”

“What did you want to say?”

Quinn didn’t even hesitate. He didn’t have to think about his answer. “That I would marry her in a heartbeat. That I fucked up and I don’t even know how to fix it.” That when he’s asleep, you’re the only thing he sees in his dreams; that when he’s at practice, and he sees his teammates with their wives and kids, he wonders what it would be like for you to be there, your child on your lap, cheering him on from the stands; that he knows he’s been neglecting you, but he just felt like you would always be there, even if he stopped paying attention. 

“So what’re you gonna do?”

Walking back into the party, Quinn scrambled to find his car keys, ignoring the questions of where he’s going and if he’ll return because, for once, he didn’t care about what they thought about him. All he thought about was making it up to you and getting you back.

After fifteen of the longest minutes of his life, he finally made it to your apartment. He knew you would be here instead of his, but it broke his heart nonetheless. You always said that you hated being here. It felt cold and lonely in contrast to Quinn’s, but after these past couple months, neither apartment felt like home. 

It was raining outside as he paced outside your apartment complex, trying to come up with the right words, not wanting to say something that’ll upset you further. His suit was wet, his hair shaggy, and his new white socks a squishy mess. You deserved more than him, he thought. You deserved so much better. Someone that would actually be there for you and love you and take care of you. That wasn’t Quinn; it was never going to be Quinn, but the least he could do was try.

Knocking on your door, Quinn shook from the rain, and maybe also from a little bit of fear. As terrible as it sounds, he knew you still loved him, but he was worried that that part of your heart was growing smaller and smaller by the second. 

Opening your door, you saw the wet mop on his head and his flustery red cheeks. He was standing in a puddle of rainwater and his hands were trembling. You wanted to hold them, give him a mug of hot chocolate, and warm him up. Swaddle him in a fuzzy blanket, cuddle him, and never let go, but you were also pissed as hell. Why was he standing here? Did he want to rub it in some more? That the only guy you’ve ever truly loved, that you ever actually considered marrying, doesn’t want you? That’s just messed up.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, anger still laced in your tone. But you felt like your heart was stuck in your throat. You wanted to push it down, but the longer you looked at Quinn and his sad stupid eyes, you resisted it a little less.

“I was afraid,” he muttered, a little less than a whisper. 

You rolled your eyes. You’ve been together for years, and he was afraid to tell you he loves you? That he sees a future with you? That he could maybe possibly want to marry you? 

Not wanting to hear his excuses, you held your hand on the wood, attempting to close the door as he held it open, a plea in his eyes—please hear me out. “I was afraid that I wouldn’t be what you needed. You shouldn’t marry me. You deserve so much more than me, Y/N.”

You scoffed. “And that’s supposed to be your decision? I get to decide who and what I deserve, not you.” Tearing your eyes from him, Quinn felt his heart plummeting even faster. He can’t lose you. “You know, maybe you were right, Quinn. Maybe we don’t have a future together.” 

Was he dying? Was Quinn dying? Is this what death felt like? He felt like he was dying. Everything was going wrong. He was wet, you two weren’t back together yet, and somehow you are even more mad at him than before he came.

Just be honest, his mind screamed.

“I thought that I needed to be what everyone else needed,” he said, staring at the puddle of rain he tracked in. “I needed to be a good captain, I needed to be a good player for the fans and for the organization, I needed to be good for my family, but I forgot about you and what you needed.”

“You don’t need to be on for me, Quinn!” you shouted, not caring for your neighbors that could probably hear from down the hall or the people walking past your guys’ melodramatic scene. “If you just told me how you felt, I would’ve been there! I would’ve been there for you!” your eyes were stinging, sparkling with unshed tears. “But you pushed me aside like I was nothing.”

“Y/N-”

“No, no.” You shook your head. “I think you should go-”

“I’ve thought about marrying you since the moment I met you. Since the moment you met my family and you couldn’t care less that Jack had no idea what personal space was, and that Luke was in love with you so he always asked to sit next to you at dinner. And how invasive my parents were and my grandma giving you those crazy ten-minute-long hugs and always asking you when you were going to give her grandchildren. I’ve thought about marrying you since our first date when I got whipped cream on my nose from the funnel cake we shared and you licked it off even though it was our first date, and I thought ‘this girl is crazy and I think I’m in love with her.’ I’ve thought about marrying you every time we went to a wedding together, not even caring about the actual ceremony because I was imaging it was you and I walking down that aisle and you would start crying during your vows but you’d somehow also sneak in some sort of joke about me balding soon that would get everyone laughing and I would somehow fall more and more in love with you than I was before. 

Quinn walked closer, you let him. “Believe me, I want to marry you, Y/N. I would do it right now if I could.”

“So why-”

“I saw you pulling away. I knew I was losing you. I knew that hockey and my life and everything going on right now was hard, and I didn’t want you to be stuck with it if we got married. I didn’t want you to feel like you were stuck with me.”

You breathed out shakily, not expecting…any of that. “I don’t care if you go on roadies every other week, bring me with you. I don’t care if you have a bruised eye or a missing tooth, I’ll be there with an ice pack. If you have to practice from 5 in the morning to 5 in the afternoon, wake me up and I’ll be there with snacks! If the Canucks tank this entire season or they win every single game, I’ll still be here. I don’t care about any of it," you shook your head. "I only care about you. 

You held his wet cheeks, his eyes closing against your warm palms. “I’m not stuck with you,” you whispered against his lips. Planting a soft kiss, you felt him chasing your lips as you pulled back. “I want to be with you forever. But what do you want?”

For the first time in his life, he didn’t have to think. “I want you, Y/N. I want to marry you, and grow old with you, and do everything with you. I just- I want you.”

Standing on your toes, you pulled Quinn into a kiss, his lips quickly closing the distance. He melted into your body, his hands finding themselves underneath the fabric of your shirt, wrapping his arms around your torso as if you were going to dissipate into a clear mist.

As you backed into the apartment, Quinn kicked the door shut, sealing the world outside. With the living room dimly lit, you found yourselves on the couch, pulled gently onto his lap, his hands exploring the curves of your body. “I love you,” he whispered, wanting to get closer, closer, so much closer.

Meeting his urgency, you grinded against his hard-on, licking his lips. “Yeah?” 

He nodded profusely, already imagining you back at his apartment, where you were meant to be, in his bed, in his shirt, moaning his name. “Yeah.”

You smirked, lifting your shirt over your head, your lacy red bra being on full display. Quinn's eyes drank in the sight, his desire palpable in the air. “Show me how much.”

Quinn wasted no time, his hands finding the clasp of your bra, skillfully releasing the constraints. As the fabric fell away, his hands traced the contours of your skin, a silent vow to explore every inch. To kiss each mole and each dimple, and thank whatever godly entity led you to him. 

"Wanna marry you," he moaned into your lips.

"You obsessed with me or something?" you smirked, giggling as he lifted you from the couch, carrying you to your bedroom.

"Something like that."

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #i love quinn

[aphrogeneias]

Rockstar Eddie sending assistant reader secret admirer flowers maybe? Maybe it’s when they’re not touring, back in town for a bit.

Idk if that’s the vibe or not but I think it goes with the secret romance vibes

-💛

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x assistant!reader

warnings: yearning. a ton of yearning. tooth-rotting fluff.

You'd never been one to be sad on Valentine's Day.

If you weren't already in a relationship, you were working too much to even think about it. Life on the road didn't give you the luxury of going all out on holidays, for the most part.

It made you happy, though. To see everyone in the crew calling their girlfriends and wives, planning dates for when they see each other next, sending them a letter in the mail, signed with all their love.

To see Rick, the perpetual bachelor, go on dates with a different woman every year, swearing he's ready to settle down this time. He'd ask you about yourself, “A nice girl like you doesn't have a date on Valentine's? I don't believe you, honey.”

You would tell him the same thing every time. “Worry about yourself, Rick. You're not getting any younger.”

If anyone else asked, you'd just say you were too busy. Too busy taking care of other people, seeing the country, looking for yourself in the process — and you always meant it.

This year, however, it had you slumping around the house, wrapped in a warm blanket and roaming your own home like a ghost. You were there physically, but your heart was somewhere in a small town in the Midwest, visiting his family before the next leg of the tour.

Selfishly, you wanted him here. You almost asked him to come with you, but you knew how much he missed home, with the way he'd been counting the days to see his uncle, his friends, and who were you to take that from him?

The longing took hold of your heart anyway, squeezing it tight in your chest, as you curled into yourself on your couch, not really paying attention to the romantic comedy playing on your TV set. It rained outside, the pitter-patter against your windows almost lulling you into sleep.

You pictured him there, wrapped around you on the couch. His warmth enveloping you, arms tight around you. In your kitchen, making coffee, helping you bake, washing the dishes. In your bed, messing up your sheets. His laughter booming across the walls, his whispers in your ear.

A golden halo around his wild brown curls. Your Sun, your Star.

A knock on your front door brought you back to reality.

Groaning, you stood, taking the blanket with you as a cape, dragging behind you as you crossed the living room. When you opened the door, there was a soaked delivery boy waiting for you, but he wasn't the first thing you saw.

In front of him, there was a bouquet of roses. A dozen, half of them red, half of them black, wrapped in brown paper, and tied with a pristine white bow. Dazed, you almost didn't hear the boy call your name, and last name, before asking to sign the paper on his clipboard.

“Who… Do you know who sent them?” You asked, giving him back his ballpoint pen.

“They're not signed. Have a good day, miss!”

As he left, and your door seemed to close itself behind you, the first thing you did was reach for your phone.

With your flowers still in hand, clutched to your chest, and the receiver on the other, you dialed the phone you had memorized, but rarely used. The one that was slipped into your back pocket by a heavily ringed hand, one you were told to call if you felt lonely.

Now was as good a time as any.

The gruff voice that answers after a few rings was not his. “Hello?”

“Wayne? Uh, this is…”

“Oh, I know exactly who this is. I was expecting you'd call.”

“Were you?”

The older man chuckled on the other side of the line. “The boy’s been talking about you all day, but he didn't want to call. Said you'd be too busy to sorry about his sorry ass. Figured it wasn't true, but you know how stubborn he is.”

“That he is.” You agreed, and there's an exchange you can't quite figure out at the other end. The phone rattled a bit, and a voice saying “your girl’s on the phone” came through, followed by more rattling.

“I'll let you go, kid. Happy Valentine's Day, there's someone who's desperate to talk to you.”

Without being able to help yourself, giddiness rising through your chest like butterflies, you giggled. “Happy Valentine's, Wayne.”

The next person to talk to you sounded a bit breathless. “Hey, sweetheart.”

The hand that was holding your heart tight let it go, and let it soar through your kitchen, as if it grew cartoon-esque wings. “Hey, Eddie. Do you, perhaps, know if I happen to have a secret admirer, I got these beautiful flowers but sadly, no note.”

“Oh, I don't know. You must steal hearts wherever you go, could be anyone.”

You could hear the smirk on his lips, practically feel his stare across the line. “Aw, that's a shame. I was thinking of returning the favor, but maybe he doesn't like me enough to make himself known.”

“Maybe he likes you enough to keep it a secret, who knows who else might be listening.”

With a sigh, your understanding came through without any more words needing to be said. It laid thick in the air. “I miss you."

“I miss you too. Did you like them?”

“I love them.” You answered immediately, simply. Maybe it was time to be sincere. “I'd love having you here more, though.”

“Baby, you're getting sick of me next time I see you, just you wait. The flowers are more of an early apology.”

“A threat, more like it.”

There it was, the laugh you loved more than anything. “Yeah. A threat, whatever you want to call it.”

“Promise me, then?”

Biting your lips in anticipation, you waited for his reply. Eddie’s voice came heavy with meaning, “I promise.”

Your heart and the cartoon wings that carry it through your ceiling spinned, and spinned, and spinned.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #nothing else matters

[xtra7s]

Best Birthday Ever PT.2

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Reader

Content: Jenna Ortega x Reader, G!P Jenna, Switch!Reader, Switch!Jenna, cockwarming, cowgirl, idk smut shit

Word Count: 933

masterlist | previous part

Jenna kissed your lips lazily, grabbing onto a hand and pulling you out of the bathroom, rushing you through the crowd as you dodged bodies and kept a tight grasp on Jenna's hand. Jenna comes to a halted stop, making your front collide with her back and you instinctively place your hands on her waist to stabilize yourself. “Where have you been? Maddie has been looking all over.” You hear a girl in front of you say to Jenna, and you awkwardly peak out next to Jenna, her hand still tightly in yours.

“Um, who’s this?” Emma asked, her eyes flickering down to our intertwined hands and back up to my face, Jenna stammering to answer. “She's a friend, do you mind if I take a rain check? I'm kind of tired and I feel b-" Jenna rants, getting cut off by Emma waving a hand in a dismissive manner. "It's okay! we won't mind, it's your birthday. Get home safe" Emma says, pulling Jenna into a hug and forcing our hands apart.

Jenna grabs your hand almost immediately after separating from Emma, pulling you out of the club and towards a taxi. You follow her blindly like a puppy, sliding into the backseat of a taxi and Jenna directing them to her house. You flicker over to Jenna, taking in her appearance and leaning down to kiss along her jawline, down her neck. Her lips graze your ear, letting out a whisper only you two can hear.

"You looked so perfect sucking my dick" she mumbles, leaving a kiss under your ear, grinning at you as they arrive at her house. She pulls you out of the car, paying the driver, and thanking him. She unlocks her door and pulls you in, pressing your back against the door as it shuts. You place your hands on her waist, tasting her lips as she presses her body against yours. You can feel her bulge pressed against your stomach, straining against the fabric of her dress as Jenna trails her kisses down your neck, biting and sucking as she leaves little marks.

You both rush upstairs, unable to keep your hands to yourselves as clothing gets discarded on the way to her bedroom. your lips connecting as soon as you reach it, Jenna lying on the edge of the bed as you climb on top of her, your knees placed on either side of her thighs. "you're so beautiful" You whisper out, staring down at her bare torso, your nails gently scratching down her ribs as you kiss down her neck to her collarbone, getting to her tits as you take a nipple in your mouth, sucking and kneading the other as you do, Jenna letting out soft moans and praising words.

you lean higher on top of her, grinding against her bulge as you switch attention to her other breast, trailing your hand down to pull her dress up and pull her cock out of her boxers. You wrap your hand around the base and jerk her off as you suck on her breasts, Jenna's hips thrusting forward in surprise. She grabs your chin to pull you up and kiss you as you swipe a finger over the tip of her cock to spread her precum along her shaft, lining it up with your pussy and lowering yourself on it slowly.

you gasp into Jenna's mouth as it fills you up, leaning your head down next to her neck as she works her hips to thrust into you, biting on her shoulder as she hits you deeply, Jenna letting out pretty moans as she feels you clenching around her, "you feel so fucking good mi amor" she grunts, your lips sucking and biting on her neck as she pounds into you.

Moans and the sound of her skin slapping against yours fill the room, the air growing hotter as she sinks in and out of you, your lips connecting with hers as you lose focus, the kiss becoming sloppy and messy while Jenna is mumbling moans against your lips. You lean up, riding her as she lays there with your marks covering her body, her hands on your waist.

''Fuck just like that mami, you're doing so good'' Jenna praised you, helping you ride her as she moves your waist up and down. You place your hands on her chest, holding on to her tits as you arch down, a string of moans escaping from your lips. "m'so close, faster please" you whine, feeling Jenna get worked up from your words as she pounds faster into you, her letting you know shes close too in an ineligible sentence.

You squeeze on her cock, your legs shaking as you come undone on top of Jenna, her thrusts getting harder but slower as she helps you ride out your high, "cum inside me, baby please" you whimper to her as you kiss on her jaw, connecting your lips as she cums inside of you, thick ropes of cum filling you up. She slows down entirely, leaving her cock inside of you as you both catch your breath.

She pulls you further up her bed, your head resting on Jenna's chest as her hands wrap around your waist, holding you. She kisses your forehead as you lazily pull a blanket on top of you both, letting you both close your eyes and fall asleep, her cock still nested deep inside of you.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday addams x reader #finestkind #i’m in love with jenna ortega i can’t breathe #emma myers #maddie ziegler #wednesday addams #wlw #club #bedroom #i’m so gay

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field XVI

summary: you can finally go home.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.4k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do.). implications and mentions of abuse and some non-graphic violence, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there. oh, and manipulation.

a/n: i can't believe this is it :') the final part (excluding the epilogue which is coming v soon). thank you all so so so much for all the love on this fic! it means so much to me that you guys enjoyed it! but don't get too sad (like me) bc i am not ready to let them go so i'll probably do like blurbs and stuff ab this series so stick around for those!

series masterlist // playlist

"Y/N/N. Do you have your clothes from home?" Coryo asks, pulling the boat back up onto the shore. The guns were gone. He's free to go home if he wants.

"Yes." You nod. "I couldn't get rid of them if I wanted." You chuckle, looking up into the woods behind the cabin, hoping Sejanus is long gone by now.

"Okay. You're gonna stay here, just for a few days, and then I'll come get you before the train leaves. I'll take you to Two with me, just wear those. You'll fit in better."

"Okay..." You nod, nervous about being out here all alone for so long.

"I'll come bring you food as much as I can." He knew it would be a long hike each way to come see you, but he would have to carve out the time. He looks up at you quickly from digging through his own bag when he hears you sniffle. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I- uhm..." You clear your throat, fanning your eyes to keep any tears from falling. "I'm just scared." You try and laugh it off, shaking your head slightly.

"Don't be scared." Coryo shakes his head, dropping the bag to grab your shoulders. "Hey, you're gonna be okay, Darling, but we don't have another choice. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"I know, I know that..." You sniff, looking up at him. "Is she dead?"

"Yes." He answers quickly. "I buried her. She can't hurt you." He promises. Was that true? No, definitely not. There was no trace of her after the shot besides her earring on the ground,  but he had hit her. He was sure of it. There was no reason to tell you that, though, just to scare you more. You couldn't go back to town, there was nowhere for you to hide while peacekeepers searched every inch of the populated part of the District for days while he waited for his train.

"Okay." You whisper, taking a deep, shakey breath as you look around at the suddenly scary forested area around you. The rain had started to clear up, which helped with the sun peeking through the clouds to brighten up the lake. If Lucy Gray hadn't ruined everything, you would probably be getting ready to keep moving.

"Just, try to relax out here. Okay? Go for a swim, just enjoy the fresh air." He smiles softly, brushing some hair back out of your face as he tries to make you feel better.

"I've had enough of the woods for the rest of my life." You scoff, shaking your head under his hold.

"I know, Y/N/N, I'm sorry. It's only a few days. Like I said, I'll come back for you whenever I'm free." Even if he could only stay for five minutes before he had to turn around and make the trip back to town, he would do it. "Then we'll figure everything out. I'll handle it."

"I... I just want to go home, but I can't." You cry, letting him wipe your tears as your chest flushes with the emotion.

Coryo winces at your tears. He hates seeing you cry, and he has seen it far more times than he would have liked to in the last few months. "I'm going to figure it out. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you ever again. I promise." He says softly, trying to get you to look at him.

You lean into his palm, closing your eyes as you try desperately to pull it together. You were exhausted, but this was the last thing Coryo needed right now. "I'm sorry. I'm just having a moment."

"I know. You're okay." He chuckles, planting a kiss on your forehead and pulling you into a hug, rocking your body gently back and forth. "You know, I think the last time you said that to me was the day I realized I was in love with you." He hums, squeezing your shoulders gently.

You laugh, which makes him smile. It's what he wanted. "I feel like that's a bit dramatic."

"No, it's true." He grins, craning his neck to look down at you. "You defended me, and you listened to me, and you looked just so pretty doing it..."

You bury your face in his shirt to hide your blush.

"You're always on my team, and I appreciate that. I really do." He explains, satisfied that he's made you feel at least a little better. "I hope you know I'm always on your side, too."

You nod slightly, smiling through your tears as you look up at him. "I know."

"Good." Coryo whispers, kissing your nose. "I love you."

"Really?" You whisper, eyes lighting up as you wring your hands together against his chest in front of you. "You're not just saying that because I'm crying on you?" You laugh slightly.

"No, I do." He nods in confirmation, grinning down at you in admiration. "There's no one else in this world I can trust as much as I can trust you."

"Then why'd you give her your scarf?" You ask, tilting your head. "It looked... valuable."

"It was. It belonged to my mother..." He says solemnly. He suddenly shakes his head, mocking your expression as he changes the tone. "You really were dead to the world, huh? I was holding it, and she just asked if she could see it. Then she didn't give it back." Coryo explains, raising an eyebrow at you. "Why, are you jealous of the dead girl?"

You roll your eyes with a smile on your face, attempting to shove him away.

"Hey, I'm kidding." He laughs, pulling you close again by your wrists. "Don't you trust me?"

"Okay, yes, I trust you." You giggle as he drops your wrists, sliding his hands over your waist.

"And you love me?" Coryo asks, urging you on.

"And I love you." You grin, nodding slightly.

"That's my girl..." He hums, running a hand lower down your side, thumb running over your midsection as he leans in to kiss you. He had you right where he wanted you, he'd wanted to say that for ages. Only since he even clued into the fact that the buzz he gets under his skin when he catches you smiling, anyway. Realistically, you were something he had always wanted. Picturing his future over the last few years when he was dragging himself out of bed every morning desperate to arrive to class on time even on an empty stomach, his daydreams of his success always included your own, as well.

Now, it was only the two of you. He was so right about you, you were perfect in every way. Smart, obedient to him and only to him, but you fought for what you wanted. You knew struggle, pressure, and soul crushing expectations in the same way he did. Through all of it, you were there for him. You were beautiful- and he was the only one smart enough to see past your occasional outbursts. No one knew how to navigate you like he did, and he was lucky that few people ever bothered to try.

The most beautiful girl in all of the Capitol, and you were his. He meant it when he said that he would never let anyone hurt you. He couldn't let anyone take you from him.

"Do you know where we're going? Where Tigris and your Grandma'am are living?" You whisper, curled up next to Coryo on the train as it pulls into the Capitol station. You're holding the orange silk scarf in your hands, using it as a small blanket in the cold train car. You had spent most of your time out by the lake trying to clean it- but dirt was a stubborn stain. You'd have to be more thorough once you had access to cleaning supplies again. You couldn't let such a lovely piece of clothing go to waste, especially when it was so valuable to him.

"I don't..." Coryo mumbles in response, staring out the window as you lean your head against his shoulder, knees tucked up to your chest. "They shouldn't be hard to find, though."

The wheels screech to a slow stop in the familiar city, and you can't help but smile at the endless sea of grey architecture. It wasn't anything like the forest in Twelve, and you loved it. The door slides open and some peacekeepers enter, drawing both of your attention as you sit up away from him.

"Dr. Gaul is expecting you both in her lab immediately." One of them informs you, and you nod a little bit, looking nervously over at your boyfriend.

You hung off his arm for the entire car ride and all the way to the lab as you're escorted by the men in the matching uniform to his own. Your clothes were dirty, despite how many times you cleaned them back in District Twelve. You had cleaned them obsessively throughout the last couple of months, but the water was never quite clear enough to be helpful. It was vile. Surely you smell unpleasant due to this, and you were hoping you would have a shower before confronting anyone from your previous life, but clearly, you weren't so lucky.

"Do I stink?" You whisper, trying to avoid the echo of the large room as your heels click across the linoleum flooring.

"Not any more than I do." Coryo answers, a small smile pulling on his lips as he glances down at you.

You giggle, gently slapping his chest as he removes his hat.

"Congratulations, Mister Snow, Miss Y/L/N. You've passed all my tests." You look up at Dr. Gaul for the first time as she speaks to you, tossing something into a pool on her floor. "I've asked President Ravenstill to grant you both a full pardon, effective immediately."

You don't say anything as you both stop in front of the tank in the ground, staring into it as Coryo revels in the shock. "I also told him that you are too promising to be wasted in the Districts. So you will be studying under me at the Capitol University."

While she speaks, you pull Tigris's coat tighter around yourself at the slimy, vicious look of whatever creatures are splashing around inside that tank that she is continuously feeding.

"We can't afford university." Coryo answers on your behalf, forcing you to look up at the woman across from you. While you were incredibly grateful, you were scared. Things were complicated back at your parents' home, and even with a legal form of forgiveness, it's not likely your father will see it the same way. You couldn't go back, and he wasn't likely to give you a dime or let you go free. Within the week, you'd probably die from an "unknown illness" contracted in the Districts if he found out you were home.

"A certain Mister Strabo Plinth has offered to pay for everything you need while you're there. All for being such good friends to his Sejanus." Dr. Gaul explains and your heart drops in your chest. You can't help but wonder if he's even still alive out there, in the North. "He doesn't know quite how good a friend you were, of course. I never mentioned your little recording. Quite impressive, Mister Snow, how you sent your only friend to the grave just to get my attention."

"That's not what I did." Coryo shakes his head at the allegation.

He squeezes your arm in warning, knowing this topic was a fine line to walk. "Are you sure? Because I think that won you the Plinth Prize, after all."

"Sejanus Plinth is not dead." You blurt out without thinking. She tilts her head at you, looking at you intensely, a knowing smile growing on her lips.

"Oh?" She asks, and internally you struggle for a saving grace while Coryo furrows his brow at you. You hadn't seen Sejanus since you sent him away, but you did try looking for him in your days out there alone. You had to believe he was alive, after you gave him his way out.

"Well, I heard that he had escaped in Twelve. As far as I know, they never found a body. He planned on running off anyway. That's likely what he did." You explain, clearing your throat.

"I agree. That is likely, but the odds he would survive out there..." She shakes her head slightly, dropping another treat into the tank as the creatures snap at it. "Anyway, the president has agreed to another year of the games! People watched, and I have you kids to thank for that."

You and Coryo wear matching grins now, posture perfect to match your collective pride.

"But before I take you under my wing, after everything you've seen out there in the real world, let me ask you one final time." Dr. Gaul says, looking pointedly between the two of you. "What are the Hunger Games for?"

You look up at your boyfriend, nodding for him to answer. "I used to think that the Hunger Games were a punishment for the districts. Then, I thought they served as a warning to us here in the capitol, about the threat the districts posed. Now I know the whole world is an arena. And we need the Hunger Games every year to remind us all who we truly are."

"And who are you, do you determine?" Coryo looks down at you as she speaks.

"We are the Victors." You finish with a proud smile, looking at the woman across from you who seems more than pleased with your answer.

"Coriolanus, what are you doing back so soon?" Your mom greets him as she opens the door of your childhood home, smiling sadly, confused as to the condition of his return.

"Good afternoon, Ma'am." He smiles politely, grey uniform cap now clutched to his chest. "I proved to be exceptional in my training. Dr. Gaul saw it was better Y/N and I work under her at the University."

"Y/N?" Your mom gasps, reaching up to cover her mouth with her hand. "She's alive?"

"I assure you, she is safe." Coriolanus nods. "Now, may I speak with your husband? I won't take up much of his time." He brushes past her, entering the home without waiting for permission.

"Well, dear, where is she?" Your mom asks, letting him pass and closing the door quickly. "Why hasn't she come home?"

"I think you know why she hasn't come here." He hums, looking around. "Where is he?"

"His study." Your mom answers quietly, gesturing up the stairs. "I'll walk you."

"No need. I know where I'm going." He gives her a small smile in return, following the familiar path toward your room.

He stops in front of your father's study, knocking before taking a step back. The force of habit leads him to stand at attention while he waits for permission to enter.

"I'm busy, don't bother me." Your father's voice echoes through the ornate lining on the door. Then he realizes, he doesn't need permission. Not anymore.

Coriolanus huffs, opening the door and stepping in.

"I said-" Your father growls, slamming his pen down on the desk before he looks up and takes in the grey of Coriolanus's decorated peacekeeper uniform. "Coriolanus."

"Sir." He nods in response, closing the door quietly behind himself. "May I sit?" He asks coldly, gesturing to the chair across from him.

"Please." Your father nods, brow furrowed as to what the blonde boy could possibly want, or what he is doing back so soon.

"Y/N isn't here, son." Your father sighs. "She-"

"I know that." Coriolanus interrupts, placing his hat on the desk between them.

"You know where she is." Your father's tone is unsurprised, but questioning.

"I do." He confirms, back straight in the chair. He had always been afraid of your father, but this was built on an admiration. He reminded him of what little he remembered about his own father. This morphed into anger slowly but surely over the last few years, picking up several hints either in your appearance, demeanor, or choice of words which painted an incredibly unflattering picture of who the man sitting in front of him truly was.

Your dad hums in response, eyes locked on the boy. "How was your summer?"

The question catches Coryo off guard, but he puts all his focus into maintaining his poise. He has the upper hand, here, and he has to keep reminding himself of that. "It was good. Certainly an eye-opening experience, the people out there are very... different."

"Then what brought you back so soon?" His neglect to even ask where you were, if you were okay, if you were even alive makes Coryo's blood boil in his veins.

"Dr. Gaul." Coriolanus states, swallowing before he continues. "She granted your daughter and I a full pardon in exchange for taking an internship under her at the university. After all, that is her dream, is it not?"

Your father's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of your name. "It was." He agrees.

"Is." Coriolanus corrects him, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. "Strabo Plinth has offered to pay our way."

"Of course he has." Your dad chuckles, but not an ounce of humour reaches his eyes. "Self righteous bastard..."

"Seeing as you don't care about her as much as you care about your own reputation, he saw it would be a way to repay her for her loyal friendship to his son. She saved his life twice, after all." Coryo ignores your father's comment, watching as the gears turn in his head, trying to remember the second time.

"I know you think you understand my daughter, Coriolanus, but there are some parts of her you will never know. Not truly." Your father responds coolly. "So, I'm not sure what she has told you, but-"

"But nothing." Coryo cuts him off, leaning back in his seat. "Here is what is going to happen. You will have nothing to do with her, her life, her mistakes, or her decisions any longer. Since, in your own words, you see her as such a burden, I am willing to free you of that."

Your dad grits his teeth together, and it's his turn to lean forward. "Coriolanus Snow, you will not speak to me that way in my own home. Y/N is my daughter, and I shall be involved as I please and I shall do with her what I deem appropriate to consequent her actions."

"No." Coryo replies sternly, standing up abruptly, unabashed by the sound of the chair scraping across the wooden floor as he slams his fist on the desk. "She is eighteen. I  take responsibility for her now, and unless you want to lose everything you and Highbottom have built, you will cut me in on every dime you make. Do you understand?"

Your dad laughs again. "And who will believe you, Coryo? You're just kids. You don't know what you're talking about. Whatever she told you is untrue. Simple as that."

"Would you like a list?" Coryo threatens. "Is that a risk you're willing to take, Y/D/N?"

He sighs, standing up to look eye to eye with him, clearly seething with the disrespectful use of his first name. "She's more trouble for you than it's worth, Son."

"That is my decision to make." Coryo says through gritted teeth.

"Suit yourself." Your dad raises his hands in defeat, careful to not show any fear. Coriolanus could see through it, though. He's won, and he knows it; it was a great deal, if your father was smart enough to see it that way. "How much do you want? Money is nothing to me."

"More than Highbottom gets." Coriolanus requests plainly, grabbing his hat and placing it back over his head. "And you'll pay for our wedding." He adds casually, pushing the discarded chair back into its place. "You'll pay for as many dresses and parties as she wants, every drink, every slice of cake, and every last flower she wishes for exactly how she wishes for it. No compromises, and no surprise appearances from you. Are. We. Clear?" He speaks clearly, intentionally enunciating every word with a trace of venom.

"Crystal." Your father scoffs, taking a drink from the whiskey glass on his desk.

Coriolanus nods, giving him a small smile. "Good. I'll be expecting the money orders every other week." He grins smugly, giving your father a quick bow before heading for the door, stopping as his hand brushes over the handle. "All due respect, Sir, which I deem to be very little, but what you have done to your daughter over all these years is what has made her into the woman you hate. Don't think I was the only one who noticed, and you would deserve every bit of harm we could do to your name. If you ever so much as speak to her again, I will kill you myself."

Coryo glances back at your father's expression only briefly before leaving. He couldn't resist the satisfying look of loathing and anger on the man's face.

The small smile sticks as he walks down the stairs, hearing the crystal glass shatter as it's thrown against the door behind him.

Finally, you were totally even.

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taglist is closed for coryo unfortunately, but my requests for him are open!! so send me all your suggestions!! requests here!!

#tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas x reader #president snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo snow #coriolanus x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #thg fanfiction #thg series #thg

[pers1st]

i'm there regardless of the pain

pairing: alexia putellas x reader

notes: this is more r focused and very short, mentions of death, idk i don’t like it but whatever

Dropping down onto your bed, you let out a breath you've been holding for the past three weeks. It's been three long weeks since that phone call with your father, three weeks of being home and trying to pick up the pieces of your family's life, shattered by the sudden death of your mother. It's been three incredibly difficult weeks, and despite the fact that you've been longing for Alexia ever since you've left Barcelona, you make no move to reach for her as she slides into bed beside you.

"Do you want to talk about it?", she asks, hesitation in her voice. The two of you haven't been dating for that long, haven't been dating long enough for her to finally be introduced to your family, not even long enough for you to tell your parents.

Do you want to talk about it? Not necessarily. All you've been doing for three weeks is to talk about it. To welcome all the neighbors into your home who dropped off food as an excuse to sneak in on your life, gather information to spread it through the neighborhood, all with a fake smile and goggling eyes.

"No."

You don't think you can talk about it anymore. All of the words have left you already, have left you after accepting every wish of condolences at the funeral, have left you at the reception afterwards, have left you since you've read the eulogy you'd prepared on your own. Even if you open your mouth, you're not sure a single word about your mother would escape.

Alexia deserves to hear about her. To hear about the incredibly kind woman who raised you, who gifted you with so much love and support all throughout your life, who was the absolute anchor of you and your brother's life, who was the love of your father's life and left him behind shattered. You wish you could tell your girlfriend all about her, make up for the fact that you are the reason she never met the woman, but you can't.

"Do you want to take your mind off it?"

It surprises you. You don't think you've ever heard your girlfriend string more than one sentence of English together without the odd Spanish slipping in between. It makes you smile, but even the knowledge that she is really trying to help you can't mend the pain in your chest.

Truthfully, there is no taking your mind off it. Your mother's ghost floats in front of you every time you close your eyes, her voice whispers into your ears constantly, if you try hard enough, you can feel the traces of her arms around your frame. She is everywhere, yet she is buried in the ground somewhere in your hometown, left alone under the cold mud and an arrangement of flowers, rain casting over her.

"No."

Alexia doesn't reply for a second, and the room is so silent you want the bed to swallow you, you want to drop under the mattress and let the darkness engulf you. There is no taking your mind off it, perhaps for the rest of your life. How are you supposed to carry on when everything pulls you back?

"Do you want me to leave you alone?"

At that, your glance across the ceiling lowers. Alexia looks up at you with her wide, stormy eyes and for a second, you feel your breath falter.

"No."

You never, ever want Alexia to leave you alone. Despite the fact that you went to your own apartment with an Uber, not even caring to let your girlfriend pick you up from the airport, only letting her know you arrived back in Barcelona and leaving her to guess your whereabouts, despite the fact that you sent her a total of five messages and declined every phone call for three long, impossibly difficult weeks, you never, ever want Alexia to leave you alone.

She seems to believe you, despite the fact that you make no effort to look at her again, and settles her head on your shoulder, using her hand to provide a little cushion.

You missed her return. You missed her comeback to the pitch, one that the two of you had been anticipating for a few months. You missed Barcelona's first Champions League quarterfinal, and if Alexia has any say in it, you will miss the next one as well. Because despite the fact that your breathing is calm, that she feels your heart beating regularly in your chest, she knows just how heavy the burden is that you are forced to carry. She feels the gravity of it all, sees it in your eyes, despite the fact that you won't look at her. She is not just your girlfriend, she is also your captain, and both of her positions worry about you immensely.

"You never got to know her."

Admittedly, you told Alexia you didn't want to speak about it, so the breath she draws in doesn't shock you. You don't want to talk about it, but if it's occupying your whole mind, what else are you supposed to speak about?

"I know."

There it is again. The Spanish accent that rolls off her tongue so easily, slipping in between the words.

"I told my dad. About us", you say next, and once again, Alexia draws in a sharp breath.

You met Alexia's family regularly, having been accepted as one of their own by both Eli, Alba and the rest of her relatives, but Alexia wasn't even a known name to either of your parents, at least prior to last week. It's not that you are ashamed of her - quite the opposite of it, actually. It's rather that sometimes, you feel ashamed of your family. They accepted it when you came out, but they never mentioned it again. You are bi, not gay, and so at every opportunity, they would throw men your way, you figure in hopes to keep the image of a normal family. Alexia doesn't deserve to know the critical gazes of both your parents, although you figure your mother would've accepted her happily. Your father-

"What did he say?"

You shrug.

"I don't even know if he heard me. He was crying, no- screaming, for someone to make the pain stop. I don't know if he heard me, but if he did, he didn't mention it again."

It gives Alexia just an idea of how horrible the past three weeks of your life must have been. She saw it as well- when her own father passed, yet her mother kept herself together enough to be strong for her children. His death was inevitable, and although it pained Alexia to this very day, she knows it's nothing like your situation. Your mother just fell asleep one day, and the next morning, she was dead. She still is.

"Amor, I am so sorry."

"It's fine. I don't want to talk about it", you huff as Alexia tentatively stretches an arm across your chest, placing it in the centre to feel your heartbeat. It is still regular.

That's how you spend the next few hours, your stare fixed on the ceiling, Alexia's alternating between your features, the ceiling and her hand on your chest. You are in an unbearable amount of pain, your girlfriend knows, she feels it weighing down on you, feels it sitting on your shoulder and snarling into your ear. Regardless, she is there. She will always be there. Even if you don't want to talk about it. Even if you don't want to take your mind off it. And even if you had wanted her to leave you alone- she would be there, regardless of the pain.

#woso community #woso #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #barca femeni #barca femeni x reader #barca x reader #barca women #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas x reader #alexiaputellas #alexia putellas

[norrizzandpia]

Hiii!! I hope you're doing well ??? :)

Sooo I was wondering if you can write something like the reader is in relationships with Oscar but they don't live together but they both live in Oxford near each other. And there is a really big storm but the reader HATE storms like crazy, I mean, she makes panic attacks just because of that and all the things that go with (idk if u understand) anyway. So she calls Oscar and he comes to comfort her.

Thanks if you do it 🫶🏻

SO SO CUTE also you added this to it for people who don’t know

Storms (OP81)

Summary: Where Y/n hates thunder storms and Oscar’s the only person who can calm her down.

Warnings: inferences of a panic attack, idk

Oscar was known for being typically unbothered. Very calm, not extremely well at communicating or showing his feelings, that was the way people described him. However, for once in his life, he was anything but unbothered. As he ran around his house like a maniac, grabbing his keys and other necessities, he spoke with his girlfriend over the phone, her voice trembling in fear over the loud storm raging on outside.

“I’m on my way, Y/n. Just take some deep breaths for me, yeah?” He said softly, different to the loudness in his head.

He knew she was nodding, not truly thinking about the fact he couldn’t see her. He slipped out of his house and into his car, connecting her to the speaker.

He heard the way the air in her lungs wasn’t quite there, making it hard for her to catch her breath. His ears strained as he tried to see if she was on the cusp of a panic attack, being familiar with the connection between her and those.

“Baby, breathe. I’m going to be there so soon, love. Just keep trying to breathe. For me, maybe?” Even though he tried to hide it, his tone exposed his own feelings of panic and dread. He was worried for her immensely, the way his hands shook told him that much.

“Y/n, I need you to talk back to me. It’ll only help you.” He gave, voice shaking slightly at the way she coughed on the other side of the phone.

Her broken voice met his ears, “I’m trying- to breathe.”

Her words were choppy as she tried another intake of breath, another failure. He nodded to himself, trying to calm himself down in order to handle her effectively. He turned the corner onto her street rather recklessly and his brakes squealed as he stopped in front of her house. Any other day and he would’ve scolded himself for driving so irrationally in the middle of a rainstorm.

“I’m here, baby. Just give me a moment and I’ll be at your door.” He didn’t wait to hear her reply. Ditching the umbrella. Oscar ran out in the rain with his phone hidden in his jacket. He rushed to her door, knocking quickly.

The door unlocked and, right as it inched open, he shoved himself in. Oscar didn’t truly look at her as he flung his arms around her and held her head to his wet chest.

His hands tangled in her hair as he felt her chest begin to even out, calming down and reaching a healthy breathing rhythm. He held onto her for a few minutes, saying nothing and making sure she was recovering. When he pulled back, her cheek glistened with the raindrops that had clung to his shirt and, even though she was cold with the shivering emitting from her body, she smiled up at him.

Finally, he breathed out, the worry etched into his face fleeting as he pushed her hair back and kissed her lightly.

“You scared me.” She whispered against him, hands clinging to his drenched jacket.

He reeled back, “I scared you?! You scared me!”

She nodded, “I can tell.”

His mouth fell agape at her words, “You’re acting like you didn’t just have a panic attack.”

She giggled at him, “No, just surprised at this new Oscar.”

He knew exactly what she meant. He was aware of the way he handled his emotions, knowledgable of the fact that he was quite closed off. However surprised he was at the emotions that just exuded from him freely, he wasn’t surprised at the fact it revolved around Y/n. His relationship with her was constantly teaching him different things, the way his emotions worked being one of them.

Suddenly, he was highly aware of the way his clothes stuck to his skin, now regretting his decision to forget about the umbrella. His girlfriend clocked his disgusted expression at the feeling and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward her bedroom and to the dresser that held his extra clothes.

She hunched over, looking through the drawers and sifting through the different underwear, sweatpants, shirts, and other items.

“What do you want?” She asked him. Oscar nudged her away, looking at her weirdly.

“Go lay down, Y/n. I got this. Just go rest, baby.” He persuaded her easily as she nodded and padded over to the bed behind him, plopping down.

When he was back, freshly dried with only his hair slightly damp, he joined her in the plush comforter. He pulled her into him as thunder boomed behind the windows. She curled further into him, the sounds making her palms sweat as she shoved her face in his chest. Oscar melted into her touch, letting his hand cradle her head as he planted kisses over her head.

“Thank you for being here, answering my call.” She whispered, fingers toying with the band of his pajamas.

He breathed her in, “Of course, love. I’ll always be there for you when you need me.”

Her hands moved to lay across his waist as he rubbed up and down her back. It was peaceful and quiet, even with the loudness from the outside.

He held her until she fell asleep and, even then, he didn’t let go. His grip on her never loosening, continuing to protect her from whatever startled her.

And there, in the makeshift cocoon he had constructed just for her, she felt incredibly safe.

#mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #oscar piasstri #oscar pia #oscar piastri fanfiction #oscar piastri imagines #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri x reader #op81 #mclaren formula 1