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astroph1les · 7 months

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catching up [h.c]

summary: after you made out with hazel in the closed space of her dorm room, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it or her. at a study session, brittany invites the group along with her to a sorority party. hazel declines going as do you. this was your opportunity to get in more ‘lessons’ on what exactly you’ve been missing out on.

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: mature language and content, smut including — fingering (r! receiving), heavy praise kink, dom and sub dymamics, aftercare, jealous!reader, brittany highkey being reader and hazel’s #1 supporter, hazel is a boob girl, more of cocky!hazel bc she’s hot as fuck, fluffy ending.

word count: 5.4K

a/n: y’all ate up falling behind so here’s part two of hazel showing you exactly what you’ve been missing out on.

You’ve always been one to zone out during your and Isabel’s study sessions. It was usually because you all of a sudden began to think of the most random questions or what your life would be like if you were rich.

Now, Hazel was overtaking every single thought that crossed your brain. That afternoon in her dorm room shouldn’t have been as mind-consuming as it was.

It’s only been two days. Two fucking days and Hazel has ruined you.

Her touch was imprinted on your waist. When you got dressed and undressed, you imagined her removing your clothes instead of you. Your body craved her touch in ways that made you feel embarrassed if there was anyone who could read your mind.

And that damn hickey.

It’s at the deepest shade of red and purple, according to Google, because you researched as soon as you left Hazel’s room that day. Isabel hadn’t seen it nor did she know about you and Hazel’s make-out session. You had thrown on the college hoodie over your plain white tee. You were lucky that every single room on campus was below freezing.

You felt bad not telling her as throughout your stay here on campus, she’d become one of your closest friends. But you know how she would’ve reacted if you told her you had made out with your crush just for ‘practice’.

Suddenly, you felt a pencil thump your forehead, causing you to pull yourself out of your crowded thoughts. You held your forehead for a moment to feel over where the eraser hit you.

“Oh my god, what was that?” You ask Isabel from across the table. The two of you were seated in the campus cafe.

“You have not blinked for two minutes and I was getting scared,” Isabel replied with a worried chuckle. “What is going on with you? You never let your iced latte sit there for so long.”

You glanced at your clear plastic cup, noticing the condensation that was forming on the outside. She’s right. Usually, there would just be ice with the tiniest bit of coffee left over for the next hour that you would be studying with Isabel.

“Nothing is up with me. Bel, I’m fine,” you assure her with a forced grin.

Her pretty green eyes narrow at you, clearly not believing a word you were saying. She flips one of her two pig-tail braids over her shoulder before folding her arms in front of her chest, squeezing against her baby pink lace cami and Josie’s gray zip-up.

“Who is it?” Her voice was accusatory as she glared in your direction.

Your eyes widened for just a moment before scoffing.

“What are you talking about?” You sigh and begin to write down notes for your history class.

“I can tell when you’re crushing.” Isabel chuckles, reaching forward to sip her hot coffee. “I’m kind of glad, honestly, because who knows how long you’ve been crushing on Hazel.”

You let out an awkward chuckle along with her. Flashes of images of Hazel’s heavy lips on yours and how she kissed and sucked on your neck came flooding in. You could feel the heat rushing up to your ears and neck. Suddenly, the hickey was becoming very itchy.

You had to tell her.

“Isabel, you’re right. It is someone. I,” you sucked in a deep breath and rubbed your hands over your bare face. “I made out with Hazel two days ago.”

Isabel’s eyebrows raised and her eyes widened at your confession.

“What? Why?” Isabel’s face held a mixture of concern and curiosity.

You open your mouth to explain to her what exactly went down but out of the corner of your eye, you see PJ, Josie, Brittany and of course, Hazel entering the barely occupied cafe. You held one hand up to your temple, muttering an ‘oh, god.’ Isabel noticed the sudden switch up in energy and slowly turned her neck to look behind her, spotting the group.

“You’re telling me about this later,” Isabel stated with a smile as she raised a hand to wave over her girlfriend.

Josie’s elated smile grew when she saw Isabel waving at her and she jogged over to the two of you. You noticed Brittany glance at Hazel before the faintest of smiles spread across her face. You knew exactly what the brunette was thinking and you wanted to disappear into the hoodie at the sight of Hazel.

She was ordering at the register; the cashier was blushing at whatever Hazel was saying. You wanted to vomit. Josie came up behind Isabel’s chair, gripping onto the back of it.

“Hey, babe. You wanna sit with us?” Isabel tilted her neck back to look up at Josie.

“Sure, yeah. I’ll go and let everyone know.” Josie smiled softly down at her girlfriend before placing a kiss on her head.

Your eyes follow Josie’s figure trailing back to the group. She mutters the question to everyone and Hazel instantly cranes her head in the direction of you and Isabel. You don’t even have time to divert your eyes and pretend you didn’t see her as she locks her gaze on you.

Hazel grabbed her cup from the counter and a cheese danish she had gotten on the side, adjusting her tote bag strap. You subtly try and fix your hair, sucking in a deep breath as you watch the group approach. Hazel wore a white crew neck with black stitching and a pair of dark gray Levi’s.

You wanted to roll your eyes at how good she looked. Of course, she had to round the table right next to you when there were a few more open seats elsewhere.

“Hey,” Hazel grinned, her tone kind and friendly.

You couldn’t even attempt to be annoyed with her as soon as she looked in your general direction.

“Hi, Haze,” you breathe out with a smile, twiddling with your pen in hand.

Way to keep your cool, dumbass.

“Holy shit, what the fuck is that on your neck?” PJ nearly shouts as she sits on the other side of you–the side where Hazel had made that hickey.

Everyone turned their heads towards you with furrowed brows. Brittany sat on the right side of Isabel while Josie sat to the left of her. Hazel glanced at Brittany who just smiled to herself, pulling out her own notebook from her bag.

Their little glances were driving you insane.

“Who is giving you hickies?” PJ taunted with a chuckle, nudging your shoulder. “I thought you were celibate.”

“None of your business and I have never once said that I was celibate.” You give PJ a warning look before going back to writing, hoping the girl would leave it alone.

“Maybe not celibate verbatim but I remember your breakdown just last week about giving up on dating forever.” Josie decided to join in, making your skin crawl.

“Guys, it's none of our business so let's just change topics, please,” Hazel spoke up before you could snap at both PJ and Josie.

Your head turned to Hazel, nodding to give her a silent ‘thank you’ for speaking up for you. She merely smiled back and patted your thigh as a reassuring gesture before lifting her coffee to her gorgeous lips. You keep your composure as you had expected her to remove her hand to not draw suspicion to you both. Instead, she kept it there.

Hazel squeezed your thigh once just for good measure.

“Oh, do you guys wanna come to a sorority house party tonight? Stephanie from my metals course invited me and said I could bring friends. It’s supposed to be, like, super fun.” Brittany spoke up, her eyes bouncing from person to person.

You look up from your paper when you hear Josie, Isabel, and PJ agree to the party. Hazel’s hand left your thigh and felt like you could breathe again, rubbing at her neck with a shrug.

“I don’t think I’ll go this time, guys.” Hazel takes a bite of her danish as everyone starts to question her. “I just don’t feel it tonight. I actually got shit to do.”

Isabel’s eyes were digging into you at what Hazel had said which caused you to frown. Hazel thrived in those types of scenarios. Who knows how many drunk sorority girls had experimented with her?

“Wha— Hazel, you’re my pass to sorority puss.” PJ huffed.

“Maybe you’ll get some if you stop calling it puss, PJ,” Hazel retorted, snorting at PJ’s words.

You zoned out of the rest of the conversation, focusing on how Hazel was going to be alone tonight. Or at least, you were hoping she was going to be alone. ‘Shit to do’ could easily be some other girl she had managed to seduce easily just by being her naturally charming self.

Maybe tonight is the night to ask Hazel for some more ‘lessons’.

Isabel had helped you pick out a cute yet comfortable outfit. Your white tube top that you brought out on rare occasions and a dark blue jean mini skirt with pockets that didn’t even work. You took a risk and left your hair in its natural state. It was rare for you to leave it down as it was hard to manage otherwise.

But you felt good, sexy even in this outfit and you had every intention to do something with Hazel tonight. You even shaved from head to toe which might’ve been overdoing it, but you felt more confident that way.

You close your eyes and suck in a deep breath as you prepare to knock on the door. You haven't heard any moaning so you assume Hazel is by herself. You knock on the door three times, bouncing on your Converse-covered feet anxiously.

The heavy door swung open to reveal Hazel in a white tank top and green sports bra, a pair of faded olive green sports shorts clinging onto her bottom half. Her eyes light up at the sight of you, leaning one of her arms against the door.

“Hi.” Hazel’s smile spreads onto her face, tilting her head to the side as her eyes follow up and down your body.

“Hey,” you reciprocate her smile, clasping your hands behind your back. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course, honey. Come in.” Hazel stepped aside to open the door more for you to walk in.

You step into the familiar environment, scanning the area to see a candle lit on her and Brittany’s shared bedside table. The way the rest of the room was only lit up by said candle illuminated an almost seductive element to the area.

“I thought you were going to the house party?” Hazel asked as she shut the door and locked it. Her eyes fell on the round of your ass in the skirt, rolling her bottom lip in between her teeth to hold back the groan that was threatening to escape from her lips.

You really were the prettiest thing she’d ever seen.

“Uh, no. Parties aren’t my thing, but they’re usually yours,” you point out, turning to face her. “Why didn’t you go tonight?”

Hoping you’d come by. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.

“I wasn’t in the mood for partying.”

You simply nod, not wanting to push any more on the subject as you lean on the end of her identical bed frame to yours. Hazel furrows her brows and folds her arms over her chest, inching in closer to you. Your confidence shrank because of her close proximity.

“Why are you here, honey? Hmm?” Her voice was low and inviting, a hint of a smirk forming on her lips.

“I wanted to see you,” you admit, hands gripping onto the wood nervously. Your gaze flickers from her eyes to her cupid’s bow. “And I wanted to see if you wanted to teach me something else.”

“Like last time?” Hazel hummed.

“Yeah but just… more.” You explained awfully, nerves getting the best of you.

Hazel nodded as she stepped in between your open legs. Her hands rest on your jean-covered waist, your hips pushing up into her touch. God, you had missed her hands.

“Do you get off often, honey?” Hazel asked, throwing you off guard for a moment. Her thumbs rub the strip of your newly exposed skin as you sit on the foot of the bed frame.

You shake your head, looking at her with a sheepish smile. “Not really, no. I try when I have time or feel like I’m in the mood. But n-no, no. I don’t.”

“Okay, do you feel like you know how?” Hazel tilted her head, squeezing your hips once before continuing the soothing rubs.

Again, you shook your head, not elaborating that time. Hazel’s sharp gaze and sweet words caused your panties to pool with your arousal.

“I can show you.” Hazel’s voice was so low, it was borderline whispering.

Your brows raised and eyes widened with hope, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth. “Really?”

Hazel’s lips curled into that signature smirk, staring directly at your lips shamelessly. You were wearing this shimmery gloss that Brittany had lent you after the group's study session.

“You look like an angel, honey.” Hazel compliments you with that look that you’ve seen Isabel give Josie numerous times.

She was horny, too. You could feel it and you wanted her now. You’re elated by her sweet words and your mind is already fogging over.

“Can I kiss you?” One of her hands leaves its spot at your waist to cup your cheek.

You nod with a soft ‘yeah’ before she leans down to capture your lips onto hers. You tilt your chin up to follow her lips, your hands releasing the wood to hold onto the back of her neck.

Both of her hands grip onto your waist, the rings covering her middle and ring fingers indenting into your skin. You gasp as her tongue swipes past your bottom lip but she doesn’t slip it in like you had hoped. You whine softly, looping your fingers under her chains to pull her in closer.

This causes Hazel to pull away with a hum, looking down at you with hooded eyes.

“Still getting too eager, huh?” Hazel teased, gripping and tugging your hips in closer to her crotch. Her roughness only made you wetter; you needed her to touch you now.

“Haze, please.” You look into her eyes, hoping she will do something soon.

Hazel pecked your lips a few more times, releasing your beautiful hips to walk around you to the bed. You turn your neck to follow her body and watch her sit on the bed, legs out like last time but more spread out.

“C’mere, baby. Sit up against me.” Hazel motioned with a small smile, her eyes trailing up and down your body as you stood up.

You blushed sheepishly and made your way to sit on the bed. Your mind echoed the way she called you ‘baby’ and how it made your desperation for her grow even more, if that was even possible.

Hazel doesn’t hesitate to take it into her own hands to tug you by your waist to sit in between her legs. Your back was against her chest, her cold chains and her mullet-rocker hair brushing up against your exposed back and shoulders.

“Are you comfortable?” Hazel’s hands were rubbing up and down your shoulders to rest at your upper thighs.

“Yeah. What are you going to do?” You question softly, your hands resting on your lap.

“Well, help you be able to make yourself cum, yeah? That’s what you want, right, honey?” Hazel’s head was next to yours, her chin resting on your shoulder.

It annoyed you not being able to see her. That is until you saw her closet that was right in front of the bed. A full-body mirror hung on the back of one of the doors. You could see the shadowy view of Hazel’s face, her cocky smirk flashing you through the reflection.

Were you into mirror sex? The sight of you up against her, chest panting and legs spread to see your best pair of panties clinging onto your wet cunt. Hazel’s palms were holding your legs open, eyes locked on your flushed face and chest.

“Is the mirror okay? I can take it down if you’re not—“

“No!” You interrupt her, your hands flying to hers that were on your mid thigh. “I like it. I like being able to see you.”

Hazel smiled at how open and honest you were being. For being as inexperienced as you were, you weren’t doing as bad as you thought you would be. Hazel made everything feel easier.

“Are you flirting with me?” Hazel teased, digging her nose into your neck where the hickey was.

You let out a soft giggle at the feeling of her lips brushing along the mark. Her lips replaced her nose within the span of five seconds. Your eyes focus on the mirror, watching as her lips gently kiss the darkening spot.

“How’s the hickey feeling, baby? Talk to me.” Hazel questioned as her hands were running up and down your sides.

“Normal. It feels fine.” You tell her truthfully, the way her tone made your pussy pulsate.

You wanted her to talk to you that way forever. The way every word was dripping in lust sent shivers down your spine and goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“We’ll talk about it another time, yeah? Let’s focus on you, baby.” Hazel’s palms trailed to the front on the ribbed tube top, her fingers right underneath your tits.

You push your chest forward into her touch, growing ‘eager’ as Hazel’s called you before. So what if you were eager? You were a virgin getting manhandled and groped by your crush who was about to teach you how to get off.

“Before you get off, honey, you have to tease yourself, okay?” Hazel’s lips grazed against the shell of your ear. “Be gentle.”

You nod to show that you were paying attention. Her hands that were brushing past your underboob creep to your nipples that were stippling through the fabric of the tube top. You inhale sharply, eyes fluttering but not closing just yet. Her fingers slip underneath the bottom of the material to tug it down ever so slightly, exposing more of your chest to the mirror.

“This is cute.” Hazel smirked against your skin, placing a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

“Thank you,” you reply, eyes locking on her hands through the mirror.

The thought of other girls going crazy over seeing Hazel in the reflection just as you did made your stomach turn with jealousy. You know it's happened and you were only hurting yourself more by pondering on it while you were with her.

She’s not yours.

“Hey,” Hazel whispered, furrowing her brows. “You with me? Kinda spaced out there for a second, honey.”

You blinked twice before nodding, letting out a soft chuckle.

“Yeah, yes. I’m sorry.” You apologize, now suddenly overcome with embarrassment.

“Don’t apologize, baby. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Hazel was quick to make sure you were feeling comfortable. “You’re doing good.”

The praise made you preen and turned your mind to mush. It didn’t help that her hands were slipping underneath your tube top to lightly grope at your tits. You hum at the feeling, the cold rings adding to the sensation. Your head rolls onto her shoulder as she runs her thumb over your nipples.

“Look at the mirror for me.” Hazel instructed, removing her hands from underneath your top.

You did as you were told, gaze locked back on your reflection. Her hands were trailing up to the top of the tube top, fingers digging into the fabric to tug it completely down. Your tits are exposed now and you feel vulnerable.

A good, exciting vulnerable.

“You are just beautiful everywhere, huh?” Hazel hummed as she took both of your tits into her palms, her bottom lip rolling between her teeth.

You thought your tits were alright. Nothing seemed that special about them but Hazel made it seem like your body was crafted by Greek sculptors.

“Haze,” was all you could say, not knowing how to take such praise.

“Alright, alright,” she placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder, shushing you softly.

As you sat there, your sexual frustration with her grew. You knew this was the point of the teasing, but you needed to get off immediately before you broke down into tears.

“Can I take this off?” Hazel asked softly, tugging on a belt loop on the skirt.

You nod eagerly. Your hips lifted up as she carefully shuffled the jean down your plush thighs. Her nails nicked at your skin as her hands brush down the sides of the plump skin of your outer thigh. You aid her by kicking the skirt off the foot of the bed once they reach your knees.

Hazel lets out a soft chuckle at your impatience. You were a vision laid out on her. The way your panties She couldn’t believe she was going to do this with you. She hasn’t been one to have performance anxiety but it was different with you.

You weren’t just a stranger or one-night stand; you were her friend or whatever you wanted to call what you two had now. That was something for her to worry about later.

Now, her lustful desire was the only thing on her mind.

“So, what I mean by teasing is,” Hazel trailed off to drag the tips of her fingers over the front of the damp spot in front of your white cotton panties.

You sharply inhale as her fingers brush right over your swollen clit from underneath the material. You keep your gaze on the reflection, not wanting to miss a moment of this. The sight was so deliciously obscene. A part of you wished you could take a photo.

“Make yourself want it more, okay?” Hazel instructs as her hands move to your inner thighs.

The short crescent indentation of her nails make themselves known as she lightly digs her hands into the plush and soft skin. You nod mindlessly, one of your hands gripping onto one of her arms.

“When am I supposed to…” You trail off, gasping when she casually brushes past your clothed pussy.

“Touch?” Hazel hummed, kissing at the nape of your neck.

“Haze, it hurts. Please.” You whimper, no longer feeling like yourself at the moment.

You were induced in a desperate haze, hips rutting forward into her touch. At this point, you were readily waiting for her to remove the restricting panties.

“So impatient, baby.” She tuts, shaking her head teasingly as she hooks her thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties.

You allowed a whine to leave your panting lips. You released her arm to allow her to shimmy down the embarrassingly wet underwear. The mirror revealed your glistening cunt.

“See how wet you are? Fuck me.” Hazel groans out her words as she teases her middle finger through the folds. “Such a pretty pussy, too, honey.”

Your hips follow her touch enthusiastically, needing. her to do something. Hazel removed her fingers as soon as she noticed your bucking hips, smiling to herself. She made sure to lock your gazes as she slipped the finger that was covered in your slick into her mouth.

You let out a gentle moan at the sight, tilting your head to look at her face. Hazel captured her lips to yours as soon as your eyes locked, one hand cupping the underside of your jaw. The other sneaky hand made its way in between your legs to tease your sopping cunt with her middle and ring finger.

As you were messily kissing, one of her fingers began to slip into you. You pull away to softly pant. You and Hazel’s swollen lips were just a centimeter apart as you begged for her to keep going.

“Your pussy feels so fucking perfect, baby. So wet for me, yeah?” Hazel mutters against your lips, her cocky attitude peaking through.

You nod at her words, trying to press your lips to hers. She shook her head with a condescending, chuckle and jerked her chin towards the full-body mirror.

“Watch, pretty girl. You’re supposed to learn something from this.” Hazel pecked the underside of your jaw before pulling back.

You refrained from rolling your eyes but focused on the reflection. Her finger began to pump in and out of you.

You weren’t learning jackshit.

All you could focus on was how fucking amazing her finger felt inside you. When she curled it inside, you let out a mix of a surprised and aroused moan. One of your hands grips onto her bicep tightly as you buck your hits to meet her fingers movements.

“You’re doing so good, honey,” Hazel kisses at flushed cheeks and jaw. “My perfect girl.”

You preen at the praise, only being able to audibly respond with whines and moans.

My. She said ‘my’ as if you were hers.

As pathetic as it may have seemed, you felt it in that you were. Her endless amount of praise made your skin beam. Your mind was too fucked out to even notice that she had slipped in her middle finger. The slight stretch made you clench down onto her.

“Oh my— fuck, Haze,” you whine as a hand reached down to grip onto her wrist, feeling overwhelmed with the pressure being applied to your g-spot.

“Yeah? Feel good, honey?” Hazel’s other hand cupped one of your breasts as her nose brushed against the crook of your flushed and sweaty neck.

You nod with a delicate whimper. “I wanna cum, please, Haze. Please.”

Hazel kissed at that sweet spot right underneath your ear before kissing the sensitive hickey. The sound of you begging to cum made her own underwear become slick with arousal but this was focused on you. Making you cum.

Just to give you some ‘lessons’, of course.

“C’mon, baby. You can do it, pretty girl.” Hazel’s encouraging words made you moan softly.

Her fingers picked up their pace as the other hand kept its hold on your tit. You keep your gaze locked on the reflection and let out the most raunchy sounds that you’ve ever made. You feel your lower abdomen tightening as your orgasm gets closer.

Your hips stutter as you throw your head back onto Hazel’s shoulder, legs attempting to clamp her arm. The sensations of her wet kisses, curling fingers and delicate touch were too immense.

“Hazel,” you whined, your voice becoming higher pitched as you were about to cum.

That one word alerted her to keep her same pace. The hand that was on your boob wrapped around your waist to pull your flushed body up against her as you. Your breaths had become ragged and moans were whiny and high-pitched.

You were so close. So fucking close.

“Cum for me, baby. You’re doing so good. So gorgeous like this.”

You couldn’t even comprehend your orgasm as it ripped through you so quickly. Your eyes shut and rolled into the back of your head for just a second before sitting up to trap Hazel’s hand. Your entire body was quivering, hips stuttering as you rode out of the orgasm against her fingers.

You think you could pass out in all honesty from how intense everything felt. Hazel was whispering sweet nothings into your ear, one arm still wrapped around your waist to keep you steady.

“There you go. You did perfect, honey,” she pressed gentle kisses onto your heated skin, trying to get you to calm down. Your eyes were shut, chest falling and rising rapidly.

“I did?” You pant out, a weak chuckle leaving your lips.

“Mhmm. Perfect as always.” Hazel reassured you, letting out a smitten laugh along with you.

You hum as fatigue takes over your limbs. Hazel pressed gentle kisses onto your damp hairline, holding you close to her. You immediately try to nuzzle into her touch, feeling in dire need of a nap.

“Hey, you gotta go and pee.” Hazel whispers as she notices how limp your body was getting.

“Can I pee tomorrow morning?” You attempt to get her to let you stay here in her arms.

“No,” she huffed out a laugh, “I don’t want you to get a UTI. Look, I’ll come with since I have to wash my hands.”

You suck in a deep breath, pretending to think for a moment before sighing out an ‘okay.’ Hazel reluctantly released your waist to let you make yourself more… well, not fucked out. You sit up gradually onto her bedsheets, cracking your lower back.

The rest of the night was more than you could’ve asked for. After you had gotten the strength to stand up, Hazel walked with you to the small bathroom her and Brittany’s room had. You peed and she washed her hands in the comfortable silence.

You fell asleep happily in her sleeping shirt that she had lended you: a plain white oversized tee. Hazel slept on her back as you rested your head on her chest, one leg thrown over the both of hers.

The next morning came quickly as you heard shuffling coming from the bathroom. Your eyes were squinted as you stared at the posters on the wall. You knew it wasn’t Hazel in the bathroom as you could feel her arm draped around your naked waist underneath the shirt.

You sit up slowly as you rubbed your heavy eyes with one palm, looking around the room as you were fully waking up. A soft click echoed into the room and you see Brittany emerge from the bathroom, wearing what you assumed was her outfit from the night before. A neon pink tank top with white shorts.

Her makeup was slightly smudged, neon green eyeshadow lathering her lids.

Brittany grinned weakly at you, yawning through her words. “Morning.”

“Morning.” You blush as you tug the sheets to cover your exposed lower half.

“How did you sleep?” Her tone was knowing and cheeky.

“Britt, don’t start.” Hazel speaks up causing you to jump as her eyes were still shut and body was still.

You thought she was dead asleep. Hazel merely tugged you in closer to her, adjusting herself once again as she smacked her dry lips. You lay back down onto her chest, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“Fine. Happy for you guys, though. You know how many times I had to deal with you both ogling at each other?” Brittany muttered as she laid on her side, groaning when her head hit the mattress.

You tilt your head up at Hazel’s relaxed features, watching them alter into annoyance as she opens her eyes to glare at Brittany’s figure. A small smile spread onto your lips at what you had just heard.

“You ogle at me?” You whisper, twirling a strand of her hair around your finger.

Hazel couldn’t help but allow the faintest smile to spread onto her lips.

“Yeah, I kind of…” Hazel sucks in a deep breath before huffing out. She knew this was now or never. She had to tell you the truth. “I really like you. I know you may not believe me because of… you know. But I do. I want this with you. It’s scary to me but I don’t want this with anyone else.”

Your heart grew tenfold at her confession, eyes softening with adoration. Her gaze was avoiding yours. You’d never really seen Hazel so vulnerable in the few years that you’ve known her.

“I really like you too, Haze. Ask anyone in our friend group. I thought I made it so obvious.” You confess as you trace her chains on her neck.

“Really?” Hazel asked in disbelief.

“Don’t even,” you scoff, finally locking eyes with her. “I got so fucking flustered around you.”

“Okay, yeah. I noticed.” Hazel admits softly, pressing her nose into your cheek as you groan out in embarrassment. “Stop. I thought it was because you were shy.”

“Around you. Literally no one else.” You bury your face into her neck, cuddling into her body.

“Well, regardless of that, I’m glad that this is happening now.” Hazel pressed soft kisses onto your head before accepting your embrace.

“Me too.”

You hum in content with your position, mentally, physically and with Hazel. You close your eyes once again, floating down into another deep sleep in her embrace. Classes forgotten, worries disappearing, and heart full.

Making out with your best friend was the best decision you ever made.

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hier--soir · 6 months

Text

high strung

abby anderson x f!reader

pairing: abby anderson x personal trainer wlf f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: abby has seemed distracted in your sessions as of late. when you discover why, you help to ease some of her tension. warnings/tags: some tight little workout shorts, abby "i'm not gay" anderson has her first experience with a woman, r insert is a trainer but has zero physical descriptions, massage, gay panic, smut, fingering & oral [abby receiving], reference to masturbation [reader], brief mention of other wlf characters from tlou2, brief owen slander lol sorry. word count: 3.5k masterlist a/n: considering abby isn't explicitly queer in tlou2, i wanted to write a short n sharp little bisexual awakening for her. bit of a quick build up but idc i don't know anything about the gym and wanted to get to the gay sex lol, hope you enjoy!

She’s wearing these tight little shorts. Pale blue. So thin they’re almost sheer where they wrap around the bulkiest points of her thighs.

You don’t look, don’t let your eyes roam over the reedy material, don’t glance down when she bends her knees and drops into a squat. Don’t don’t don’t. Don’t even look when she lays out on the bench, flat on her back, and those shorts bunch and pinch in the crevice where her legs meet her hips. No, you’re well-versed in this now. Adept at not looking.

“Show me ten,” you tap the bar once.

Abby grips the barbell. The skin of her knuckles turns a piercing white as her fingers flex and tighten around the metal. Ninety pounds on either end, and yet she lifts it off the rack with a practiced sort of ease. You feel a familiar rush of pride as she moves effortlessly through the first few reps, her breathing calm—relaxed. Your hands hover, useless, in the air over the bar. Ready to step in if you’re needed, but knowing that you won’t be.

The gym at the base is usually crowded. Sweat covered surfaces, muscle tanks in every conceivable direction, and plenty of shirtless assholes that think they own the place. But this morning you hit the jackpot, arriving early in the morning when there’s only a few others milling around.

“That’s it,” you mutter. “Good, good, give me another one.”

You notice it slowly. The same way it happened last week, and the week before that. The gradual progression; a tilting, wavering, descent into mistakes, into heavy breathing, into distraction. From behind her head, you watch her knees raise a little, feet arched until she’s balanced on her tip-toes, the muscles in her thighs straining.

Her fingers loosen a little around the bar. Grip faltering, failing. A muscle in her forearm flexes and spasms beneath the skin.

“Hey,” you warn, hands darting forward to rest on the metal. “Come on, we’re not even halfway done.”

Abby doesn’t offer up a response. Doesn’t meet your eyes. She simply huffs out a breath of exertion and presses the bar upward again. Beads of sweat glisten along her forehead, snatching at wisps of loose blonde hair and pinning them to pale skin.

“Good,” you commend, fingers hovering featherlight. But then it happens again. Her face twitches, lips pursing, and she grunts. A low, frustrated sound.

“Abby,” you sigh. She allows you to grip the bar, and together you lift it back into the groove on the rack. “Are you hungover again?”

“No,” she scowls. She sits up and wipes a reddened hand across her face. There’s a patch of sweat on the back of her shirt, and the darkened material clings to her spine.

“Then what’s the problem?” you arch an eyebrow. When she doesn’t turn to look at you, you walk around to stand directly in front of her. “Manny keeping you up at night? Burnt out? What?”

“No,” she repeats, and this time you think you catch a flash of irritation. Something angry, something heated, rolling beneath the surface of her skin, begging to be expelled.

And you’ve seen the way she can lash out. Seen how people cower and shrink beneath her steely gaze when she’s mad. Quickly, easily, you decide you’d rather not spend your morning getting chewed out for being nosy.

“Listen,” you say. “Why don’t we call it for the day? We ca—”

“I’m fine,” Abby asserts firmly. But the hard set of her jaw and the tension in her shoulders hints otherwise.

You watch her snatch a water bottle off the ground and tilt it against her mouth. Watch the way she drinks in long, hurried gulps. Watch the way her throat bobs as she swallows. Watch a dribble of water snake down her chin, her neck. Don’t.

You look away.

“You’re distracted,” you retort with an eyeroll. “If you hurt yourself in here Isaac will have my ass.”

She shakes her head and mutters something under her breath. A broad hand pushes the hair back off her face, mussing it behind her ears, and then she meets your eye.

“I’m just…” she trails off and glances away. Clears her throat a little. “I’m feeling a little tense, okay? Everyday I’m either in here, or Isaac has me out scouting some fucking Scar hot spot, and I’m exhausted, and my legs are fucking killing me.”

You feel your face soften, mouth tilting down into a sympathetic frown.

“I get it,” you nod. “Hey, I’m sorry, I know I push you pretty hard in here—”

“It’s not—” Abby shakes her head again. “You’re not the problem.”

You don’t know what to say to that. For a moment the two of you rest in a wary silence. Listen to the sounds of people working out around you; muted grunts of exertion, the spouted praise from spotters standing close by. You notice the way she flinches when someone racks a weight a little too aggressively – a little too loud.

“Let’s go in the back,” you suggest easily, already turning away. “We’ll do some physio; I’ll help with the knots in your legs.”

It’s a simple routine once you get her onto the massage table. Tucked away in a back room, door closed, her shoes off, you can set to work without so much distraction.

You start with her calves. Using the palms of your hands, the pads of your thumbs, you rub against the tightly coiled muscles there. Working out any knots that you find, any hidden strains. Moving slowly, purposefully, working your way up until you hit her thighs. And that’s where the tension becomes evident.

It seems like Abby is in pain as you dig your thumbs into her outer thigh. Her face is all screwed up, eyes closed as soft little grunts slip from her mouth. When you find a particularly tight knot and press she spits a low curse, eyes clamping shut and face turning to the side.

“You doin’ okay?” you check in, eyebrows furrowed as you watch the way she squirms and wriggles around on the table – as if she’s shying away from your touch. As if it’s too much for her. “I’m really not pressing that hard, Abby.”

“It’s good,” she chokes out. “Keep going.”

You continue with a sigh, crackling your knuckles before using both hands to work at the muscle in her upper thigh.

“Jesus,” you sigh. Your palm rolls over her quadricep, working to release the built-up rigidity there. “You’re so tense.”

“Sorry,” Abby grits out, voice hoarse and stilted as it sneaks its way out past her teeth. It’s like she’s holding her breath, the way sharp exhales rush from her nose every few seconds.

“It’s fine,” you assure her. Your fingers press against her knee, and you push it up towards her chest until her thigh is pressed against her stomach. Stretch out the muscles there, let her feel the pull, the burn as her knots loosen. “Do you need—oh.”

Because you look down and the words get caught in your throat. Musing caught like a mouse in a trap, your mouth suddenly feels like sandpaper. And you were always so good at not looking, never looking. But now… you’re almost glad you looked. Because there’s a damp splotch on the front of her shorts, shades darker than the rest of the fabric. Right in the crevice between her thighs, where the inseam of those tight fucking shorts rests against her mound.

It must be sweat, you think. It has to be. But when you look at her face you notice how flushed she is. See the blotches of deep red that stain the skin on her neck, her cheeks, and you know it’s not sweat. She’s wet.

Your hands freeze in place, keeping her leg pinned to her chest.

Abby says your name quietly, and there’s something urgent in it – a panicked tone to her voice that makes your stomach tighten.

“Is this why you’ve been so distracted?” you ask. Your mouth is dry, lips chapped as you look between her face and that spot between her thighs. Back and forth, over and over. Your fingers tense against her thigh, and the skin there is so soft. “You’re…”

“I’m not,” she rushes, face almost entirely pink now.

“It’s okay,” you soothe quietly, thumb starting up a slow movement against her flesh. Soft, small circles. And you know you must look calm – but on the inside there’s a hot, wet feeling lashing out against the inside of your stomach. “Is that because of me? S’that why you’ve been so distracted in our sessions lately?”

Abby turns her face, tucking her chin into her shoulder in attempt to hide her blush. You lower her leg back onto the massage bed. “I don—I don’t know why I’m…”

“Abby,” you laugh softly. Your palm is flat against her thigh now, fingers twitching – itching to explore. “It’s okay.”

“I’m not…” she grimaces.

“Not what?” you hum, and you’re playing with the hem of her shorts now. Curling around the thin fabric, rubbing it between your fingertips. “Do you… will you let me help?”

Her eyes widen at the suggestion, and you feel the way her thighs tense beneath your touch. Pressing together, almost squirming at the thought of it. When she doesn’t respond, doesn’t say no, your fingers creep higher. They tuck around the waistband of her shorts and tug once, testing the waters. Again, she says nothing. Those heady blue eyes stare at your face, pink lips parting as her breathing grows heavier.

“Abby?” you urge.

“Yeah,” she breathes, and it sounds almost like a question.

Her eyes turn glassy as she watches you, and then her hips cant ever so slightly upward on the bed. An invitation.

Smiling, you peel the material of her shorts down slowly, but you don’t look. Not yet, not even as you drop the material onto the ground. Don’t look even when there’s so much white in your vision. A field of creamy skin, begging to be seen. Your thighs press together, skin hot, the muscles in your stomach tightening as you notice that she’s sweating again.

“I’m not gay,” Abby says then. So quiet, so cautious.

Your smile only grows, and you nod. Kind. Understanding. “I know,” you whisper. “I get it.” And you do.

You’ve been in her shoes before; confused, unsure. Young and always wondering why you felt so on edge around the pretty girls in those tight uniforms they liked to wear around the base. Always pretending you didn’t think about the way their clothes moulded against their chests, their thighs, as you lay in bed at night, hand stuffed inside your underwear. Never admitting to yourself that you wanted to see underneath – to see their skin; touch it, taste it.

“I get it,” you repeat, hand stilling at her hip. “But I need to hear you say you want it.”

You ruck up her shirt. Just a little, just so it rests above the dip of her belly button, and you can see the rolling hills of her abdomen. You admire the muscles there, the way they rise and fall with each laboured breath. Abs that lead to a hardened v-shape which only encourages wandering eyes to look down down down.

Her skin is pale, and you can see the elaborate network of blue veins that spread out beneath it like spiderwebs. Lifelines, pulsing with desire. For you.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” you offer, and she nods slowly, seemingly grateful for the assurance. “I’ll help you out… just have a little taste, okay?”

“Fuck,” she mutters, head tilting back against the bed. “Fuck, I didn’t realise you were—I want you to—yes.”

Finally, you look down at her underwear—heather grey with a tiny hole near the band and a dark wet patch on the front—and ask breathlessly, “When’s the last time you had sex?”

“I don’t know,” she exhales. “A few months maybe.”

“You’re so fucking wet,” you tsk under your breathe, shaking your head a little. You can see a soft thatch of curls peeking out the side of her underwear. Saliva pools in your mouth.

“When did you?” she asks.

“Last week.”

“With who?”

“Lyla,” you admit. Your hand is on her stomach now, tracing the indents of her muscles. Fingering every freckle painted across her skin, feeling the way her belly expands with every shuddering breath. “We’d had a few drinks. It wasn’t the first time.”

“Lyla?” Abby scoffs, eyes darting down to watch your fingers. “From the infirmary? Lyla’s not gay.”

“Sure,” you hum, a teasing lilt to your voice. “And neither are you, right?”

That shuts her up quick.

You climb onto the table slowly, careful not to jostle her legs too much. But they splay easily, spreading open for you to fit between. Murmuring gratefully, you look up to see her watching you.

“You do this with everyone you train?” she asks, voice breaking when your index finger snags against the band of her underwear. “Work them to the bone and then…”

“And then?” you smirk, eyebrows raised.

“And then fuck them?” she gasps. Her hands are tense by her sides, fingers curled around the edge of the table.

You bare your teeth at her and shake your head, slowly lowering until your lips meet the skin at her hip.

“Not all of them,” you breathe against her skin, marvelling at the way her frame trembles beneath you.

Unwilling to waste another second, you lick a stripe up the front of her underwear. Taste cotton and sweat and slick. Your touch is painfully light. So gentle that you wonder if she even felt it. But then she gasps – a sharp, breathy sound that has molten heat pooling between your own thighs, and you smile. Gotcha. Her legs lock up on either side of you.

“Relax,” you whisper, and settle a hand on her thigh. Rub slowly there, pressing your fingers in gently to release the strain in her muscles. “Do you want me to stop? I can stop if you don’t want this.”

“Please,” Abby says quietly. More desperate than you’ve ever heard her sound. “Do it, please.”

“I will,” you tell her. Smile reassuringly and squeeze her thigh.

When you finally get your mouth on her, no more barriers between your tongue and the wet cut of her cunt, you’re a little mean about it. You tease her clit. Tickle your tongue around it, underneath it, never quite touching, just showing that you know exactly where it is, exactly where she wants to be touched. You use your fingers to spread her open, pressing back her folds until you can see the full spread of her; pink and glistening for you.

The taste of her is salty and heady and soon enough you can’t help swiping the flat of your tongue against her clit, and revelling in the stuttered moan that swells out of her.

“Fuck,” she sighs. “Keep doing that.”

You roll your tongue against it in circles, side-to-side, changing up the rhythm whenever you fear she might have gotten used to the feeling. Spell out your name with the tip of your tongue, and then hers. Spell out words in your own language, one that you’re fluent in and want so desperately to teach her. Like this, your tongue on her clit, is a religion, and you’re a modest missionary sent to spread the gospel.

She makes the most gorgeous sounds. High pitched, breathy moans that burst out of her and have you wishing you could touch yourself. Just slip your fingers past the band of your panties, to where you know you'd be dripping-- No. Not yet, not now. This is about her, you remind yourself.

When you take her between your lips and suck, she cries out. A hoarse, rasping shout of your name that only makes you suck harder.

“Oh my god,” Abby mumbles, voice awed, surprised. “Oh—oh fuck, oh my god.”

Lowering your tongue, you press it against her weeping hole. Taste the slick that pools there, waiting for you to drink it down, and feel a moment of sympathy for her. You wonder if Owen ever touched her like this. If he ever made her feel this good. And as the muscles in her thighs tighten and one of her hands falls against the back of your head, fingers lacing through your hair, you know he didn’t.

“I think I’m gonna—” she gasps, hips bucking against your face. You can feel her slick on your chin, your cheeks, your nose. You lick her clit again in slow, firm circles. “Fuck, I think I’m gonna come.”

You press a finger inside of her, slowly stretching out her tight hole. Give her something to bear down on when she comes. And when she does come, it’s intense. Her fingers tighten in your hair, winding around the strands and tugging as she presses your face harder against her pussy. Your nose presses into the light curls on her mound and you groan, inhaling her sweet, musky scent.

“Fuuuck,” she gasps, the word catching in her throat. You open your eyes and watch the way her abdomen tightens, every muscle in her body going taut. Watch the way her eyes clamp shut, mouth hanging open as she gasps and moans and mumbles beneath her breath. “Fuck, don’t stop. Your tongue, oh my god don’t—please don’t stop.”

So you don’t stop. Abby’s still riding out the final ebbs of her orgasm when you push another finger inside of her. Her body jolts against the table, shaking and trembling beneath your hands and mouth. And then, tongue still moving gently, you curl your fingers inside of her. Press the tips of your middle and ring finger against that soft, spongy part deep inside and grin when she moans your name. You think it might be the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard – your name on her lips.

“You like that?” you mumble against her, the corners of your mouth twitching up.

“Yes,” she moans, hips bucking against your face. “God, yes.”

“Taste so fucking good,” you sigh, flattening your tongue to lick a broad stripe up her cunt. You can taste her come everywhere. Coating your chin, your lips, the inside of your nostrils. You groan, tongue moving faster against her clit now, desperate to see it happen again. She twitches into the table, and one of her hands falls to your shoulder. Blunt nails dig into the skin there, hot and piercing as she grinds against your mouth. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Fuck,” she cries out when you add a third finger. You moan, eyes rolling back at the way her walls stretch around you. So fucking tight.

Your fingers dig into her thigh. Silently pleading with her; tell me, tell me, tell me.

“So good,” Abby mumbles. “So—shit—so full, m’so full. Ohhh.”

There’s something hot pooling at the base of your spine. Want – curling against your insides, begging to be satiated.

You murmur that desire into her cunt. Inaudible; the words lost in the mess of her, in the quick glide of your tongue between her folds.

“What?” she gasps.

“Say my name,” you repeat, louder, pleading.

And she does – she’s perfect when she comes for you again. Strong back arching off the table, thighs tensing around your body as she chants your name. Her hands are strong, fingers no doubt leaving bruises where she grips your skin tight, holding your mouth against her pussy as she convulses.

She doesn’t let you pull away for a minute, maybe two. Holding your head between her legs as she grounds herself, chest heaving with heavy breaths. You swear you even feel her stroke the skin at the nape of your neck. Twist the hair there around her finger and tug gently. But then she’s letting you go – strong hands falling back to clasp against her lower stomach, and you’re stumbling off the table.

You hand her those shorts—those tiny fucking shorts—and smile. Can see the way uneasiness flits across her features as she drags them back up her legs, sparing a wary glance towards the door. Probably wondering if anyone heard her; if they heard the way she cried and moaned and gasped your name as she came undone against your face.

“It’s fine,” you reassure, only half-lying. “We weren’t that loud.”

But you can tell by the way she nods that she doesn’t quite believe you. That she’s still confused, still unsure, still wondering what this all means.

So you squeeze her shoulder, thumb pressing into the dip below her collarbone, and promise – “No one has to know.”

thank you for reading! x

maybe ill write another part to this where abby realises she wants to return the favour... idk we'll see

#middle finger and ring finger supremacy idgaf #my writing #fic: high strung #abby anderson fanfiction #abby anderson smut #abby anderson wlw fanfiction #abby anderson fic

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