urfavefelon

Latest Posts by urfavefelon

Im sorry, when was this??

...

Girls only want one thing and it’s to flip a series of overhead switches and to punch a few glowing buttons to start up the spaceship

Me when someone says Xavier and Wednesday had chemistry

im starting a rumor.

I for one ship those crazy fans that harass Jenna & Percy with a psychiatrist & 4 padded walls. Now that's a ship that should be endgame. That's something we can all agree on

Oh definitely lmao

Piranhas x Mental Facility. 

dead

REAL! I feel like it's all in my head, ready to use. Then all my knowledge of grammar, unique words and HOW TO WRITE goes out the window, and I'm left with a blank page

At this point, I don't even know why I'm still writing if I'm that bad at it

AHH! NO! (i need knew eyes, seriously) yeah but i don't think she wants this, y'all

Them! The most natural/comfortable jenna has looked in a role. As Percy said they were playing themselves in this movie. She deserves better fans than what she's gotten, that's gone support her, good thing she still has me & others. And Percy already knows what it is, keep being you Mr Hynes White! April 25th make sure all you real Jenna & Percy fans go show support for this future classic Gen Z Rom Com. 🙏🏼💯🔥❤️

❄️🌷☀️🍂

what we’ve been holding back

pairing: vada cavell & female reader

summary: for the first time, it’s just you, vada, and everything you’ve both been holding back.

warnings: smut (18+) oral (v receiving) fingering (r receiving) explicit sexual content.

author’s note: i hate this more than tongue can say but hope yall enjoy it anyway.

Vada never got the house to herself.

Not really, anyway. There was always someone around—her parents, of course, but more than anything, Amelia. Her little sister was like a permanent shadow, always appearing at the worst times, always needing something.

If she wasn't barging into Vada's room without knocking, she was hogging the TV remote or loudly FaceTiming her friends right outside Vada's door. And if she wasn’t being actively annoying, it was only because she was looking for new ways to be.

There were nights when Vada would be stretched out on the couch, half-asleep and watching some movie with you, only for Amelia to come crashing in, demanding to know exactly what you were watching before declaring it boring and switching the lights on. Then there were mornings when she'd blast music from the bathroom, knowing full well that Vada was still trying to sleep. Even on the rare occasions when she wasn't in the way, she was still there, existing in the background, always within earshot, ready to interrupt.

So when Vada found out that, for the first time in forever, she would actually have the house completely to herself, she barely knew what to do with the information at first. It didn't feel real.

It had started as a normal enough evening—her mom mentioning something about dinner plans as she moved around the kitchen, her dad chiming in with something about not waiting up. None of it really registered with Vada until her mom casually added that Amelia was already gone for the night, off at a sleepover.

That was what made Vada sit up.

The realization hit her all at once. No parents. No Amelia. No interruptions. Just her. Just you, if she got you to come over.

Excitement bubbled up fast, making her reach for her phone before she even fully processed what she was doing. She barely thought about what she was going to say—just that she had to tell you, and she had to tell you now.

The second you picked up, she was already talking, rushing through the words like she was afraid she'd lose the moment if she didn't get them out fast enough. You didn't even have time to say hello before she was telling you about the miraculous turn of events—how her parents had made last-minute plans, how Amelia was staying at a friend's house, how, for the first time in what felt like forever, she had the house to herself.

And more importantly, how that meant she had you to herself.

She barely gave you time to react before she was asking if you'd come over. It wasn't really a question—more of a demand disguised as one, her voice all hurried excitement as she told you to bring something nice to wear, even if she didn't know what for yet. She wanted tonight to be different, she told you. Not just another hangout, not just another "date" in name only, but something that actually felt like one.

Because most of the time, your "dates" weren't really dates at all. They were sitting on her bed watching bad movies while Amelia threw popcorn at you from the doorway. They were laying in the grass at the park, pretending the $3 slushies in your hands were expensive cocktails. They were long drives with no destination, no plan, just a vague hope that you'd end up somewhere interesting.

It wasn't that she minded. She loved that time with you—loved that it didn't take some grand gesture for you to want to be with her. But part of her still wished she could give you more than that.

She wished she could take you out somewhere nice, somewhere that didn't have sticky floors or fluorescent lights. She wished she could take you to a real restaurant, one with candlelit tables and expensive wine lists, where she could pull out your chair and hold your hand across the table without worrying about her little sister making gagging noises in the background.

But neither of you had the money for that, and even if you did, her parents were always home, Amelia was always home—there was always someone home. So your time together had to fit into the spaces left between.

Not tonight, though. Tonight was just yours.

So she'd cooked.

She wasn't a great cook—not even a good one, really—but she wanted to make something herself, something that at least resembled an actual date-night meal. Something better than the usual microwave dinners or takeout containers you two shared on her bed. So, she kept it simple: pasta. She figured it was hard to mess up, but even then, she still managed to overcook the noodles a little.

It wasn't fancy. It wasn't even that impressive. But it was hers.

And that had to count for something.

She'd even gone as far as lighting candles, the only ones she could find being the old, half-melted ones her mom kept under the sink. They smelled like vanilla and something vaguely floral, and the flames flickered unevenly, casting wobbly shadows across the table. It was probably stupid—it felt stupid. She could already hear Amelia's voice in her head, making fun of her for trying so hard.

And honestly, Vada would've made fun of herself too, a few months ago.

This was the kind of thing you two used to laugh at when you watched rom-coms together—how cheesy and soggy it all was, how ridiculous it was that anyone actually took the whole candlelit-dinner thing seriously.

But now? Now, she was starting to get it.

And that was enough to make her feel like maybe, just maybe, all of this wasn't as ridiculous as she thought.

Then the doorbell had rung.

Vada had barely had time to shake herself out of her thoughts before she had rushed to answer it, almost tripping over the corner of the rug in her hurry. She had stopped just short of yanking the door open too fast—because cool, she had needed to be cool—but all her effort at playing it smooth had gone straight out the window the second she had seen you.

You had stood there on her front porch, bathed in the dim glow of the porchlight, a bottle of wine in your hand. You had lifted it slightly, eyebrows raising as you had teased, "Thought this could make our very serious, very fancy dinner even fancier."

Vada had huffed out a laugh, eyes flicking from the bottle back to your face. Your face. Soft in the low light, lips curved in that easy way that had always made her heart trip over itself. The way your hair had framed your face, the way your eyes had flickered with amusement, the way you had looked at her—it had all been enough to make her forget her own name for a second.

She had recovered just enough to snatch the bottle from your grip, fingers brushing against yours for half a second longer than necessary. "You stole this, didn't you?"

You had grinned, tilting your head. "Define 'stole.'"

Vada had rolled her eyes but had still taken a step back, letting you in. And the second you had crossed the threshold, setting your hands on her waist, any and all of her previous self-consciousness had melted away.

You had kissed her before she could make some smartass remark, before she could even think about saying something stupid. It had been soft—slow, even—but warm in a way that had settled deep into her bones, making her feel weightless and anchored all at once.

And God, she had been able to taste the trouble on your lips already.

When you had pulled back, she had barely had a second to process before you had been taking in the dining setup behind her, eyes flicking over the candles, the plates, the pasta. Your smile had stretched a little wider, amusement clear in your gaze as you had turned back to her. "You really went all out, huh?"

She had felt her face heat, but she had just shrugged, trying to downplay it. "You're welcome."

You had hummed, clearly unimpressed by her attempt at being casual. Then, tilting your head, you had smirked. "So... which cooking tutorial did you follow?"

Vada had groaned, tipping her head back dramatically. "I hate you so much."

You had just laughed, nudging your shoulder against hers before stepping further into the house. And even as you had poked fun at her, even as you had made some offhanded comment about how the noodles had looked a little overcooked, she had been able to tell—you had liked it.

You had liked this.

Dinner itself had been a blur of easy conversation and laughter, of stolen bites and exaggerated reactions to how terrible her cooking had been. It hadn't been fancy. It hadn't been perfect. But it had been something.

You had liked this.

Vada had been able to tell by the way your smile had lingered as you ate, how you had stretched your legs out beneath the table, nudging your foot against hers like it was second nature. And maybe it had been. Maybe it had always been this easy for you—to just exist like this, to fit into every space you were given and make it your own.

She hadn't been able to take her eyes off of you.

Not while you had spoken, hands moving as if they could shape your words in the air. Not while you had twirled your fork through the pasta, the candlelight catching on the rim of your glass as you had lifted it to your lips. And definitely not when you had picked up the wine bottle, turning it between your fingers before tilting your chin up slightly.

"Some more wine, ma'am?" you had asked, your voice lilting in a way that had made her groan.

Vada hadn't even bothered to respond, just shaking her head as you had poured more into her glass anyway.

And now, even with the food long gone and the plates abandoned in the kitchen, she still couldn't take her eyes off of you.

The movie playing on the TV was one she had seen a hundred times, something you had both agreed on without really thinking about it, but she wasn't paying attention. Not to that, at least.

Because the way you were curled up against her, legs tucked over hers, fingers tracing lazy patterns against the back of her hand—that was more interesting than anything on the screen.

The movie had been playing for a while, the glow from the screen flickering across your face, catching in your eyes as you stared at it. Vada was supposed to be watching too, but her focus had started to slip long ago.

She had barely touched her glass of wine, her fingers curled loosely around the stem, more preoccupied with the way you had sunk further into her side, your body relaxed against hers. Every so often, you would shift slightly—reaching for more wine, adjusting your position, stretching out more against her. And every single time, she had to fight the urge to look down, to get distracted all over again.

She only snapped back to reality when you suddenly let out a breath, shaking your head a little before speaking.

"Okay, but why do people pretend this is the best movie ever? Like, it's fine, but it's not that good."

Vada had hummed in vague agreement, even though she had no idea what part you were talking about.

But then, a moment later, you turned your head toward her. Your brows furrowed slightly, like you were studying her, before your lips quirked up in a knowing smile.

"Are you even watching?"

She had barely caught herself in time, blinking and shifting her focus back toward the screen like she hadn't just been completely lost in staring at you.

"No, I am," she had said quickly, smiling through the lie.

And then she had forced herself to look back at the screen, even though it took everything in her not to glance at you again.

Vada had tried—really tried—to keep her eyes on the screen. But it was impossible when you were sitting right there, barely a breath away, looking the way you did.

Maybe it was the wine. You hadn't had much, just enough to feel the edges of everything blur, to make the warmth in her chest settle a little deeper. But still, it was enough to make her wonder if that was why she couldn't seem to look away from you. If it was the reason why, for the past ten minutes, she hadn't absorbed a single thing from the movie playing in front of her.

The glow from the TV flickered over your skin, soft and golden, mixing with the dim light from the streetlamp outside that slipped in through the window. It caught in your hair, traced over the curve of your cheek, reflected in your eyes when you blinked. You weren't even doing anything—you were just watching the movie, completely unaware of the way Vada was looking at you.

But she was looking.

And she couldn't stop.

Her gaze drifted over every little detail of your face—the faintest crease between your brows when you concentrated, the slight part of your lips when something caught your attention, the way your lashes brushed against your skin when you blinked. She felt your fingers move absentmindedly over the back of her hand, tracing slow, barely-there patterns against her skin, and the way it made her stomach tighten was almost embarrassing.

It was all so effortless. So you.

And she couldn't believe she got to have this. That she got to sit here in this moment, surrounded by nothing but the warmth of the house and the flickering light of the candles she had been embarrassed to set up, and just watch you.

She should have looked away.

She didn't.

And of course, you noticed.

You let out a quiet, breathy chuckle before turning toward her, amused. "What?"

Vada felt her stomach twist, her face warming under your gaze. She hesitated, just for a second, before letting out a soft breath.

"You're beautiful."

The way you blinked, like you hadn't expected her to say that, made her heart lurch in her chest. And then you smiled—really smiled—something small and teasing but still so genuine. Your fingers slowed against her hand, resting there, your touch lingering.

Vada's gaze flickered down before she could stop it.

Your lips.

She felt something settle low in her stomach, spreading through her chest, making her breath come just a little shorter. She didn't even think before she spoke again, voice quieter this time, rougher, like the words were forming before she had the chance to second-guess them.

"And I want to kiss you."

You tilted your head slightly, your smile deepening at the edges, the teasing glint in your eyes making her pulse quicken.

"Is that so?”

You didn't pull away.

Instead, you shifted, leaning in just a little, just enough that your knees brushed against hers, your fingers tightening slightly over the back of her hand.

And God, she must have looked ridiculous. Because she could feel it—could feel the way her lips parted slightly, could feel the way her eyes were stuck on your mouth, could feel the way she must have looked at you, like she was desperate, like she was starving.

She barely managed to nod.

And then you leaned in, closing the space between you.

Your lips met hers, soft and warm and slow, and for a second, Vada forgot how to breathe.

The kiss started slow, soft, just like it always did. But it never stayed that way for long.

Because Vada loved kissing you.

You had made out more times than either of you could count—on her bed, on your bed, in the backseat of your car, pressed up against the wall by your front door when neither of you wanted to say goodbye. It was something she would never get tired of, the feeling of your lips against hers, the way your hands always found their way to her waist, the way your fingers would tangle in her hair when you got impatient. She loved all of it.

But this? This felt different.

Hotter.

The kind of different that made her ache.

Your fingers curled at the hem of her shirt, not pushing, not pulling, just holding. She felt the way your touch lingered there, like you were thinking about doing something with it. And God, she wanted you to. But she didn't have time to dwell on it before your lips parted against hers, before your tongue flicked against hers, slow and teasing and just enough to make her stomach twist.

Vada let out a quiet hum, barely even a sound, before her hands found their way to your face, fingers brushing over the heat of your skin, thumbs smoothing over your jaw as she deepened the kiss.

It still wasn't enough.

So, without even thinking, she shifted.

Her hands slipped down to your shoulders, pressing against them lightly for balance as she adjusted her position, swinging a leg over your lap. Her knee sank into the couch next to your hip, then the other, her weight settling over you as she straddled you properly.

And still, her lips never left yours.

She felt the way you reacted instantly—the way your hands gripped her waist a little tighter, the way your fingers curled slightly into the fabric of her shirt, the way your breath hitched, barely noticeable, but she noticed.

Of course she did.

Because she noticed everything when it came to you.

It deepened fast, all sense of restraint unraveling the second Vada settled on top of you.

And maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was just you—the way you felt underneath her, the way your hands kept fidgeting, like you couldn't figure out where to hold her. Whatever it was, it had something twisting tight in her stomach, making her push closer, kiss harder, until she wasn't even sure if she was kissing you anymore or just trying to devour you whole.

She barely realized what she was doing—how desperate, how messy she had gotten—until she felt you chuckle against her lips. And God, that should have slowed her down, should have made her think, but instead, it only made her worse. Because the second you smiled, the second you mumbled something about her being so needy, Vada groaned against your mouth and kissed you even harder, hands threading into your hair to keep you right there.

And your hands?

God, your hands.

They moved constantly, like you couldn't decide where you wanted them most. First, your fingers tangled in her hair, threading through the strands, tugging just enough to make her whimper. Then they slid lower, pressing against the thin fabric of her shirt as they smoothed down her back. And then—fuck—then they landed on her ass, barely a pause before your fingers squeezed, firm and possessive, making heat shoot straight through her.

Vada gasped against your lips, the sound half a moan, and she swore she felt you smirk.

But just as quickly as your hands had gotten there, they moved again, fingers skimming up over the curve of her hips, finally settling there, thumbs pressing lightly into her skin through the fabric.

And then—oh God, then—you guided her.

The touch was loose, barely even forceful, but she felt it. The way your fingers flexed, the way your grip tightened just enough to encourage her to move. And before she even thought about what she was doing, her body responded.

Her hips rocked against yours, slow and experimental, sending a sharp, warm shiver straight up her spine.

Oh.

Oh.

This was new.

Your hands had wandered before, gotten a little bold when you made out, but this? This had never happened before. And the realization, the fact that you were doing this, that you wanted her to do this, sent a rush of excitement straight through her, making her stomach flip.

So she did it again.

And again.

Each movement growing a little more confident, a little more sure, until she didn't even have to think about it anymore. Until her hands were gripping your shoulders just to keep her balance, until she was pressing herself against you exactly the way she wanted to, the way you were leading her to.

And Vada had never been more excited in her life.

Because she had noticed.

The second she opened the door and saw you standing there, she had noticed. The black off-shoulder top clinging to you, the delicate curve of your collarbone on display, the way the fabric settled so perfectly against your skin. And she hadn't thought much of it at first, just that you looked really fucking good. But then, when you leaned over the table to pour more wine, when the neckline of your top shifted just slightly, the realization hit her—

You weren't wearing a bra.

And now, as she pressed against you, her hands skimming over the soft fabric of your shirt, the thought was making her dizzy.

She wanted to see you.

Her fingers curled at the hem of your shirt, and she hesitated for only a second before pulling away just enough to look at you. You understood immediately, a slow smile playing at your lips as you raised your arms, giving her permission, encouragement, and—fuck—Vada could barely breathe as she pushed the fabric up, over your ribs, over your chest, finally tugging it over your head and tossing it somewhere.

She didn't care where it landed.

Because—

Oh.

Oh.

She froze.

Her hands, still mid-motion from discarding your shirt, stilled. Her breath caught somewhere between her chest and her throat, and her brain completely short-circuited.

She was fucking gone.

She had imagined this before—of course she had, she was only human—but nothing, nothing, compared to the reality of it. The way the candlelight flickered over your bare skin, painting you in soft golds and shadows, the way the warm glow from the TV barely illuminated the curves of your chest, making them look almost unreal.

God.

Vada just stared, mouth slightly open, eyes wide with something between disbelief and absolute, stunned awe.

She wanted to touch. Wanted to feel.

But all she could do was look, completely mesmerized, completely wrecked, because holy shit.

Vada barely realized the word had left her mouth until she heard it. "Wow."

It wasn't intentional—just something that slipped out, breathless, awed, like her brain hadn't caught up with her mouth.

She hovered her hands over you, close enough to feel the warmth of your skin but not quite touching. She wasn't sure why she was hesitating. Maybe because she didn't want to ruin the moment, or maybe because she didn't know if she could handle it.

But you didn't seem embarrassed.

Didn't shift under her gaze, didn't cross your arms over yourself or make any move to cover up. You only smirked, a soft, amused chuckle slipping past your lips, and somehow, somehow, that made everything even sexier.

Vada swallowed hard.

And then, finally, finally, she touched you.

Her hands settled on your breasts, hesitant at first, just feeling, getting used to the weight of them in her palms. Her thumbs brushed over your nipples, and when she felt them harden beneath her touch, something in her snapped.

She grew bolder, kneading them more firmly, watching your expression shift as your lips parted just slightly, as your breath hitched.

God, she loved this. Loved how soft you felt, how warm, how responsive.

Then she leaned in, capturing your lips again without stopping her movements, her hands still exploring, still touching. She felt the way you sighed into her mouth, how your fingers slid into her hair, tugging her closer, deepening the kiss.

But it wasn't enough.

Vada needed more.

So she let her hands drift down, gripping your waist as she shifted lower, trailing her lips from your mouth to your jaw, then lower still, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the side of your neck.

And then she kept going.

She slid down your body, slowly, adjusting herself as she moved lower, her knees sinking further into the couch cushions, her body stretching out across yours so she could reach. Her lips trailed past your collarbone, over the slope of your shoulder, and then—

Lower.

Her mouth hovered over your chest now, and she hesitated for just a second, looking up at you.

Your head had tilted back against the couch, your eyes fluttering shut, your lips parted just slightly as the softest moan slipped out.

And fuck, that was all she needed.

Vada pressed soft, lingering kisses along the curves of your breasts, giving them both equal attention, her lips parting slightly to suck at the delicate skin. She took her time, savoring the way you reacted, the way your body tensed and relaxed beneath her touch.

And when her tongue flicked over your nipple, circling it in slow, deliberate motions, she swore she felt the way your breath caught.

It should have felt new. It was new. She had never done this before, never been in this position with anyone. But somehow, it didn't feel unfamiliar.

It was like second nature, like her body knew exactly what to do without her having to think about it.

Maybe it was because she'd watched people do this before—had spent more time than she'd ever admit scrolling through videos, studying the way hands moved, the way mouths teased, the way lips wrapped around sensitive skin just like hers were doing now.

Or maybe it was just you.

Maybe it was the way you made everything feel so easy, so natural, like she was supposed to be here, like she was supposed to be doing this.

Your hands found their way into her hair, fingers threading through the strands, gripping just enough to make her feel it, to make her shiver.

And then—

"Fuck, Vada."

Hearing you say her name like that, breathless, desperate—God, it wrecked her.

Vada barely had time to process the effect it had on her before she felt your hands on her sides, fingertips pressing lightly, almost hesitantly, before they trailed up. The warmth of your touch sent a shiver through her, and when your fingers slipped under the hem of her hoodie, she swore her heart skipped a beat.

You didn't need to say anything. The way your hands lingered there, the way your thumbs brushed over the bare skin just above her waistband—it was enough. And she wanted it too.

She hesitated for just a second, her breath catching in her throat, before she pulled away just enough to reach for the fabric herself. In one smooth motion, she lifted the hoodie over her head, her hair falling messily around her shoulders as she tossed it somewhere—she didn't know, didn't care. Not when your hands were already reaching again, already touching her.

You started slow, fingertips grazing her shoulders, sliding under the straps of her bra. The touch was light, teasing, and yet it set every nerve in her body on fire.

She felt your fingers pause at the clasp.

Her breath hitched.

And then, slowly, so slowly, you worked it open.

The straps slipped down her arms, the fabric falling away, and then it was gone.

Vada wasn't sure what she expected—if she expected anything—but when she finally gathered the courage to meet your gaze, what she saw made her feel like her whole body had just been set ablaze.

You were staring.

Not just looking. Not just seeing. You were taking her in, eyes dark and hungry as you admired every inch of her.

Vada had never been in this position before—half-naked in someone's lap, completely exposed—but somehow, she didn't feel nervous. She should have, maybe. But the way you were looking at her... it was like you wanted her, like you needed her, like this moment had been building up for so long that neither of you could hold back anymore.

And when your hands found their way to her waist, gripping just a little tighter than before, pulling her back in like you had to, like you couldn't stand even a second apart—she swore she could have melted.

You pulled her back in, your lips meeting hers again, slow at first—like you were savoring her, like you wanted to take your time. Your hands traced gentle paths along her waist, your fingers spreading out over her bare skin, warm and steady, grounding her in a way that made her dizzy.

Vada let herself sink into it, let herself melt against you, let herself feel everything. The softness of your lips, the way your breath mixed with hers, the way her whole body felt like it was burning from just this.

And then, between kisses, your voice came, soft but certain, against her lips.

"You're beautiful."

It was so simple, yet it sent a rush through her that she hadn't expected.

She hadn't realized she needed to hear it—not until you said it.

A smile pulled at her lips, small at first, then wider as she let her forehead rest against yours for just a second, breathing you in. She knew she was beautiful, she'd been told before—but hearing it here, Now, from you? With your hands on her, your lips brushing against hers, your gaze still lingering like you meant it?

She didn't feel shy anymore.

She pressed another kiss to your lips, slower, deeper.

"I can't believe we're doing this," she murmured against your mouth, the words slipping out before she even realized she was saying them. But she didn't regret them. Because she couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that after all the teasing, all the stolen kisses, all the almosts—this was happening.

And God, she never wanted to stop.

Vada pulled back just enough to look at you, her breath warm against your lips, her eyes dark and heavy-lidded with something deeper than just desire. It was hunger—real, undeniable hunger—but beneath that, something softer, something nervous. Not because she didn't want this, but because she did—so much that it made her hands tremble slightly as they brushed over your bare sides.

Her gaze flickered over your face, searching, memorizing, as if she were trying to commit every second to memory. Because this was happening. Finally.

She swallowed hard, blinking down at you before her lips twitched into the smallest, almost shy smile. And then, she kissed you again—deeper, slower, savoring it. But it wasn't just that. It was purposeful. Like she had already made up her mind about something.

You felt it when she shifted, her hands smoothing over your sides, then lower, gripping your hips as she carefully slid back, slipping off of your lap and sinking to the floor between your legs.

Your breath hitched.

She kissed her way down as she moved, lingering at your jaw, your collarbone, your chest—her lips pressing reverent, open-mouthed kisses to the soft skin there. Then lower, down your stomach, her nose brushing against your skin, her breath warm, making you shiver as she went.

And then she stopped. Right at the waistband of your jeans.

Her fingers hovered there for a second, hesitating, before she glanced up at you.

Her lips were slightly parted, her pupils blown wide, and yet—her eyes searched yours, questioning, asking without words. She wasn't unsure about what she wanted, but she needed you to tell her. To say it.

You held her gaze, your chest rising and falling a little too fast, your skin still tingling from the way she had kissed her way down your body.

Then, finally, you nodded. And when you spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper—soft, but certain.

"Please."

That was all it took.

Vada let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and then—her fingers moved. The button of your jeans came undone, the zipper following soon after, and then—she was tugging them down, her hands warm, her touch careful but eager, as she pulled them off of you.

With your jeans gone, the only thing left on you was your underwear, a thin barrier between you and her. And Vada—she just stared.

Her breath was uneven as she reached for them, her fingers hesitating against the waistband, her nerves flickering back to life despite the overwhelming heat between you. But it wasn't uncertainty. It was something deeper.

Because this was it.

She was really about to see you. All of you.

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes flicking up to meet yours again, searching, almost like she was waiting for permission all over again. And you—God, you looked so good like this, half-naked on the couch, skin flushed, chest rising and falling just a little quicker than before. You weren't hesitant.

You weren't second-guessing anything. If anything, the way your lips curled into a soft, expectant smile—the way you lifted your hips slightly, giving her silent permission—only made Vada's heart hammer even harder against her ribs.

So she tugged them down.

Slowly. Carefully.

And then she saw it.

Her breath hitched, her fingers freezing against your thighs as she took you in.

Fuck.

She didn't know what she was expecting. It wasn't like she hadn't thought about this before, wasn't like she hadn't imagined it in the back of her mind on nights when she was alone, when the teasing had been too much, when she could still feel the ghost of your hands on her skin.

But seeing you—like this, bare and spread out before her—was something else entirely.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, her wide, dark eyes flickering between your thighs, drinking in every detail, her hands still resting against the tops of them. She could feel the heat radiating from you, could see how wet you were, and it sent a dizzying rush straight through her.

God.

She almost laughed—half out of disbelief, half because she suddenly felt so overwhelmed, like her brain was short-circuiting, like she was having a hard time processing just how fucking gorgeous you were.

But all that slipped past her lips was a soft, breathless—

"Wow."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, filled with something almost reverent, almost awestruck.

You let out a quiet chuckle, your head tilting slightly, watching her, waiting for her to do something, say something more. But you didn't look embarrassed. You didn't try to shy away or cover yourself, didn't shift under her gaze like you were self-conscious about the way she was staring.

And that only made this even hotter.

Vada hovered her hands over your thighs, fingers twitching, like she wanted to touch you but wasn't sure if she was allowed to yet.

You reached down, running your fingers through her hair, tugging her closer, a silent encouragement. And when she finally touched you, sliding her hands up your legs, gripping your thighs and spreading them just a little wider—she swore she felt herself ache with need.

Because fuck—she wanted you.

All of you.

And now she was finally about to have you.

But just before she dove in, she looked up at you again, her lips slightly parted, brows furrowing as if she was only now realizing what she was about to do.

"Should I...? Do you want me to—"

The nervous energy crackled in her voice, a sharp contrast to the hunger in her eyes, and God, it would've been adorable if you weren't already aching for her.

You cut her off, your fingers still tangled in her hair, tugging just enough to get her attention.

"Vada, baby, please."

That was all she needed to hear.

"Right."

And then she did it.

She started slow. Tentative. Like she was testing the waters, figuring out what made you gasp, what made your fingers tighten in her hair. But she wasn't unsure. Far from it. She licked a slow stripe up your center, tasting you for the first time, and Jesus Christ, she nearly moaned.

You were so wet.

For her.

Her hands flexed against your thighs, gripping them as she let herself sink deeper into it, flattening her tongue, pressing in closer, wanting more.

And the sounds—God, the sounds you made.

The quiet gasps, the breathy little moans that slipped past your lips, the way you exhaled her name, voice shaky and wrecked—fuck.

She had never done this before. But somehow, she knew exactly what to do.

Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was the way you reacted to her—your body arching, your breath hitching, the way your thighs tensed when she flicked her tongue just right. Or maybe it was the fact that she had definitely watched people do this before, studied the way they moved, imagined what it would be like.

Either way, she wasn't stopping.

Not when she had you like this—breathless, desperate, falling apart under her tongue.

And God, she loved this.

So she should've felt confident. The way you gasped, the way your body tensed, the way your fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer—it all should've been enough to tell her she was doing this right.

But still, she couldn't help the doubt creeping in, the slight hesitation in her movements as she pulled back just enough to look up at you.

"Does it feel good?" Her voice was soft, uncertain, lips glistening as she spoke.

You barely managed to open your eyes, your head still tipped back against the couch, breath coming in short, uneven pants. And God, Vada loved how wrecked you already looked.

Your fingers twitched in her hair, tightening just a little. Keeping her there.

"Mhm." You nodded, voice barely above a whisper. "Baby, it's great."

That should've been enough for her.

But she still watched you, eyes flickering between your face and the way your chest rose and fell, like she was waiting for more.

And you could feel it—the slight hesitation, the way she was still holding back. Still unsure.

So you tugged her in closer, your voice coming out rushed, almost pleading.

"Please, continue."

And fuck, that flipped something in her.

Any hesitation she had before—gone.

She dove back in with renewed hunger, her hands gripping your thighs tighter as she flattened her tongue, moving with more confidence this time. More intent.

And when she felt your fingers tighten in her hair again, pushing her down just the slightest bit, guiding her to exactly where you needed her most—God, she nearly groaned against you.

Because that told her everything she needed to know.

You wanted more.

And she was more than happy to give it to you.

Vada never considered herself patient, but she took her time now—partly because she wanted to savor this, and partly because she was still figuring it out. But she knew one thing for certain: she wanted this. Wanted you. And judging by the way your body tensed beneath her, the way your breath hitched every time she moved, she was doing something right.

Her hands gripped your thighs, thumbs tracing slow circles against your skin, grounding herself as she let her mouth explore. She started off careful, tentative, trying to gauge your reactions. But the second she heard your sharp inhale, the quiet, breathy "Oh—" that slipped out before you could stop it, something in her ignited.

She pressed in deeper, her movements growing more confident, more eager, and she felt the way you responded instantly. Your fingers curled into her hair, not pulling, just holding, tugging her closer. And fuck, that did something to her. The idea that you wanted her right there, wanted more of her.

And God, she wanted to give you everything.

Your head tipped back against the couch, a shaky breath escaping as you murmured, "Oh yeah, that's good." Your voice was unsteady, like you were barely able to get the words out, and that was all the encouragement Vada needed.

Her grip on your thighs tightened, holding you still as she settled into a rhythm, pushing past her nerves, following nothing but instinct now. The more she gave, the more she wanted—you were warm, soft, intoxicating beneath her, and hearing those quiet sounds fall from your lips only made her more determined.

She could feel your breath coming quicker, the rise and fall of your chest growing uneven, and when your fingers in her hair tightened—really tightened—she felt another rush of pride surge through her.

And when she heard you whimper her name, that was it.

Vada swore she could've stayed like this forever.

But it was clear you couldn't.

The way your thighs started to tremble, the way your breath hitched on every exhale, coming out in these ragged little gasps—it told her everything. You were unraveling, slipping closer and closer to the edge, and fuck, she could feel it. The heat of you, the way your body arched into her touch, desperate, pleading without words.

And then there was the way your hands had tightened in her hair, no longer just holding but gripping, like you were keeping yourself grounded. Like the pleasure was so overwhelming you needed something—someone—to hold onto. The realization made something deep inside her clench, a rush of pride, excitement, maybe even disbelief washing over her all at once.

She was the one making you feel this good.

She was the one drawing out these breathy little moans, these broken gasps, the soft, helpless whimpers that sent a shiver down her spine.

You rocked against her, chasing the feeling, chasing more, and she let you, gripping your thighs as she worked her tongue in slow, deliberate motions.

Vada never wanted to stop.

But then your hips stuttered—just slightly, just enough for her to notice. Your breath hitched sharply, and the hand buried in her hair tugged before you let out a shaky, "Fuck, I'm close."

Your voice, wrecked and desperate, sent a bolt of heat straight through her, but she didn't dare slow down. Instead, she gripped your thighs, keeping you in place, letting herself sink even deeper into the moment.

You needed this.

And God, she needed it too.

Vada didn't let up.

If anything, hearing you say that only spurred her on. She flattened her tongue against you, dragging it slowly before flicking the tip against your most sensitive spot. She could feel the way your body reacted, the way your thighs tensed beneath her palms, your hips jerking up ever so slightly like you couldn't help it.

She did it again—slow, teasing, before switching back to those quick, precise flicks, alternating between the two until she felt you start to tremble. The way you whimpered, the way your fingers tightened in her hair, almost pulling her closer, told her you needed more, needed her to keep going just like this.

So she did.

She wrapped her lips around you, sucking gently, adding just the slightest pressure as her tongue moved against you in tight, perfect circles. You let out this soft, strangled moan, your thighs twitching against her, and fuck, that sound—Vada swore she could feel it, deep in her chest, in her stomach, everywhere.

She didn't know how she was doing this so well, didn't know how she knew exactly what you needed—but she wasn't questioning it. Not when you sounded like this.

And then you broke.

Your body tensed, thighs clamping around Vada's head as a sharp, breathless moan escaped you. Your fingers tightened in her hair, pulling just enough to make her whimper against you, but she didn't stop—not yet. She kept her tongue moving, guiding you through it, slow and deliberate, savoring every second as you came undone beneath her.

She could feel it—the way your stomach clenched, the way your hips stuttered before finally stilling, the way your breath came in short, uneven gasps. She didn't stop until she felt you physically twitch from the sensitivity, until you exhaled a shaky, "Vada—" that sounded so sweet, so wrecked, that she had to listen.

Only then did she finally pull away, lips glistening, pupils blown wide as she looked up at you. And God, she had never seen anything more beautiful.

You were still trying to catch your breath, chest rising and falling unevenly, body still warm and buzzing from the aftermath. Your head was tilted back against the couch, lips slightly parted, eyes half-lidded as you blinked down at her. You looked completely wrecked in the best way, and Vada could not stop staring.

She stayed between your legs, grinning softly, her own breath still uneven. There was something so intoxicating about seeing you like this, knowing she had been the one to get you there. It made her stomach twist in the best way.

After a moment, she tilted her head, eyes flickering up to yours, and asked, almost shyly, "Was that good?"

You let out a breathy chuckle, still dazed. "Amazing, baby."

And God, Vada swore she could've melted.

But then you spoke.

"My turn."

Vada's grin faltered for just a second at your words, her breath hitching as realization settled in. Your turn.

You had finally caught your breath, but she lost hers.

She stayed between your legs for a moment longer, her hands resting on your thighs, but now there was a shift—something in the air that made her shiver. You reached for her, fingers curling around her wrist as you guided her up, and she followed without hesitation.

You kissed her again, slow and deep, before gently maneuvering her until she was straddling your thigh, her knees pressing into the couch on either side of you. She was already breathing heavier, already so affected by just the idea of what was coming next.

Her hands found your shoulders for balance, and you smoothed yours down her sides, over the curve of her waist, before sliding them lower. Your voice was soft, but certain—confident—when you said, "I want to make you feel good too."

And just like that, Vada felt like she could combust.

Your hands dipped lower, fingers working at the button of her jeans. It wasn't the easiest thing to do with the way she was straddling you, but you didn't seem to mind the challenge. Neither did she. If anything, it made her pulse race faster.

She bit her lip as you popped the button open, then dragged the zipper down. But when you tried to push them down her hips, the angle made it impossible. She huffed a soft laugh, already desperate to get them off.

"I should probably—" she mumbled, already moving before she could finish the thought.

You let her go, watching as she stood, hurriedly shoving her jeans down her legs. They pooled at her ankles, and she kicked them off, nearly stumbling in her rush. A breathless giggle escaped her lips as she caught her balance.

Her hands were already at the waistband of her underwear, but before she could do it herself, you reached forward, hooking your fingers there.

"Let me."

She swallowed hard, nodding, letting you pull them down in one slow, smooth motion.

And now she was bare for you. Just as you had been for her.

She was already moving back toward you before she even thought about it, climbing into your lap again, her breathing uneven as she settled against you—closer than before, warmer than before.

And God, she needed you.

The moment she settled back onto your lap, you pulled her in for a kiss—deep, slow, intoxicating. Your tongue brushed against hers, and she whimpered softly into your mouth, her hands gripping your shoulders for stability.

Your hands didn't stay still for long. They traced their way up her sides, fingertips ghosting over her waist, her stomach—warm, soft, nervous. She shivered under your touch, but she didn't pull away. If anything, she pressed in closer.

And then your hands cupped her breasts.

Her breath hitched—sharp, surprised, new. No one had ever touched her like this before. Not anyone else. Not even close. The only hands that had ever roamed this part of her body were her own, and this was so different. This was you.

Her lips parted against yours, a soft, shuddering exhale slipping free.

You parted from the kiss, your breath mingling with hers as your hands settled on her hips, thumbs smoothing over her warm skin. Your eyes met hers—dark, wanting, hungry, but underneath it all, there was something else. Something softer.

Love.

And then, in one fluid motion, you shifted, guiding her onto her back against the couch, your body hovering over hers. Her breath hitched again, eyes wide for only a second before a grin tugged at her lips—God, she loved this. She loved you.

Her legs instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you in as her hands slid up your arms. But when your hand moved down between her legs, she shuddered, her grip faltering as her thighs loosened slightly around you, just enough to give you the access you wanted.

Your fingers trailed down, brushing over the heat of her, feeling how warm, how wet she was for you. The slightest touch had Vada sucking in a breath, her stomach tensing as her hips shifted instinctively toward you. Her eyes fluttered shut for a second, like she was trying to process it, to hold onto the feeling, but she forced them back open, locking onto yours. She needed to see you. Needed to watch you.

You kept your touch light, teasing, dragging your fingertips along her inner thigh before moving back to where she was desperate for you. Her body reacted instantly—another sharp breath, the way her fingers dug into your arms, holding on like she needed something to ground herself. And maybe she did.

"Is this okay?" you murmured, your voice softer than ever, filled with nothing but care. The way you looked at her, the way you asked—like she was something delicate, something that mattered more than anything else in the world—it made her dizzy.

Vada swore she could've come just from that. Just from you.

She tried to answer, but her throat felt too tight, the words tangled somewhere inside her. So she just nodded, quick, almost frantic, because yes, yes, she wanted this, needed this.

And then you pushed in.

Two fingers, slow but certain, sinking into her with ease. The air left her lungs in a sharp, broken gasp, her head tipping back against the pillow as a sound she'd never made before slipped out of her mouth. Her body clenched around you, hot and tight, and she couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but feel.

Couldn't do anything but feel.

Your fingers moved with purpose, slow at first, letting her adjust, letting her take it all in. The way you filled her, the way your touch sent warmth spiraling through her body—it was overwhelming, almost too much, but she didn't want it to stop.

A sharp, breathless sound escaped her as you curled your fingers, pressing against something deep inside her that made her entire body jolt. Her hands clutched at your arms, her nails digging into your skin, as she let out something between a gasp and a moan.

Your face was so close to hers, your breath ghosting over her lips, hot and unsteady. She could feel you, all of you—your hands, your mouth, the way your body pressed into hers, keeping her grounded even as everything inside her felt like it was unraveling.

Her mouth fell open, but no words came, only the broken sounds of pleasure slipping past her lips. It was nothing like she imagined—no idle fantasy could have prepared her for the way you touched her, the way you knew exactly what she needed.

You whispered something to her, voice low and soothing, and she barely processed the words. All she knew was that she wanted more. That she never wanted this moment to end.

A shuddering breath left her lips before she could stop it, her whole body tightening as your fingers pressed deeper. "Fuck." The word slipped out before she even realized she was saying it, half-whispered, half-moan, raw with desperation.

She didn't know what to grab. Her hands twitched, searching for something, anything to hold onto, but the couch beneath her wasn't enough. Her fingers curled into the fabric, gripping tight, but it didn't ground her—it only made her more aware of how good this felt.

Her hips moved instinctively, chasing the pressure, grinding against your fingers as heat curled low in her stomach. It was intoxicating, the way you touched her, the way you watched her. She could barely keep her eyes open, barely form a coherent thought, but that didn't stop the words from spilling out of her mouth, breathless and unfiltered.

"Jesus—God—that's—fuck, you're so—" A strangled whimper cut her off as you curled your fingers again, hitting that spot that made her body jolt. "So good."

Her voice was shaking, her breath uneven, and she couldn't stop herself, couldn't stop the way she was moving against you, couldn't stop the way she needed more.

Her fingers clawed weakly at the couch cushion behind her, nails dragging against the fabric as her hips moved in rhythm with your hand. Her head tilted back, lips parted, breaths choppy and uneven. She kept trying to say something, kept opening her mouth like the words were there—right there—but all that came out were broken sounds, strangled moans that cracked in her throat.

And then, between gasps, she finally said it—barely audible, like it slipped out without permission.

"I've thought about this," she breathed, voice hoarse and raw. "So many times."

You didn't stop, just kept your pace steady, fingers dragging in and out of her with that perfect angle, that perfect pressure that made her thighs tense around you. Her stomach flexed with every wave that built, and her eyes fluttered open—just barely—to find yours.

There was a flicker of something deeper behind her dazed expression. Lust, obviously. But also disbelief. Awe.

"Not like this though," she managed, her voice catching in her throat. "Not this good."

Her gaze dropped to where your hand was moving between her legs, the slick sounds of it only making everything more intense. She looked at your fingers like she couldn't believe what they were doing to her—how deep they were, how wet they were. Her jaw trembled, and her eyes rolled back again as another moan tore from her.

Vada's legs were starting to shake around your waist, but her hips kept moving anyway—needy and uncoordinated, like her body didn't care how far gone she already was. Her head lolled to the side, teeth catching her bottom lip, but she couldn't bite back the moan that spilled out next. Her hand slid from the couch to your arm, gripping like she needed something to anchor her.

"I used to think about this so much," she panted, eyes blinking slowly, trying to keep them open. "Like... I'd imagine you touching me, sometimes when I couldn't sleep, or when I was just—" She broke off for a second, the pleasure crashing over her words. "I never thought it'd feel like this. I thought I'd be nervous, or too in my head—"

"Baby," you murmured, your voice low and uneven, but she kept talking, trying to push through it even as her body clenched tighter around your fingers.

"—but it's just you, and it feels—fuck—it feels so—"

"Vada."

Her name landed like a spark on her skin. Her voice died out, breath catching in her throat, and the sound that left her was more of a moan than a response.

"Yes?" she whispered, almost a whine, her eyes fluttering shut and then open again like she couldn't decide if she wanted to look at you or just fall apart.

Your lips hovered close to hers—so close she could feel your breath in her mouth, warm and shallow. The only thing separating a kiss was your restraint. Your nose grazed hers. And she could feel how breathless you were too, though not quite as wrecked as she was. Not yet.

"Please shut up," you said, barely more than a breath, but you were smirking—hot and slow—like it was a warning and a tease at the same time.

Vada didn't argue. Her breath caught again. She went quiet instantly, and the look in her eyes made it clear she liked that. Liked how wrecked she felt under you. Liked that you could still manage control even when she couldn't.

And you didn't stop.

Your fingers curled up inside her with practiced pressure, the pads dragging against that one spot that had her breath catching every time. You didn't let her hips escape you either—your free hand slid up her side to hold her in place, your palm splayed flat just under her ribs as she squirmed.

Vada let out a choked moan, her nails digging into your bicep now, trying to hold on to something as her thighs tensed around your waist again. Her body was too responsive to hide anything—every time your fingers thrust in, slow but deep, her whole chest jolted forward, her back arching off the couch in little jerks she couldn't control. Her head tipped back hard against the cushion, exposing her throat, her mouth slack with whimpers that kept slipping out between her gasps.

You dipped your head, lips grazing along her jaw, your breath brushing her ear as your fingers pumped faster. You didn't need to look to know how wet she was—you could feel it, slick and warm, coating your fingers and dripping down over your knuckles.

And her face—god, her face. She looked like she was losing it.

Her brows were furrowed, cheeks flushed, lips trembling as she tried to breathe through it. But she couldn't keep still. Her hips were chasing every motion of your hand, grinding into your palm like she needed more, needed it harder, deeper, anything. Her thighs clenched around you again, tighter this time, and a broken curse left her mouth.

"F-fuck—"

Her voice cracked halfway through it. Her whole body stuttered, trembling under your weight, and her hands flew to your shoulders now, clutching at you, nails scraping lightly down your skin like she couldn't hold herself back anymore. And that's when you knew—she was right at the edge.

So you stayed right there, fingers moving with purpose now, pushing in just a little deeper, curling up just right. You let her ride it out, your face still so close to hers that you could feel every unsteady breath against your lips. Your name tumbled out of her mouth like a plea, broken and urgent, over and over again.

And then her whole body seized—legs locking, mouth falling open in a silent moan before the sound finally caught in her throat.

She came hard.

You felt it all—every twitch, every clench around your fingers as her orgasm tore through her. Her whole body arched beneath you, thighs trembling, her chest rising fast as her moans broke apart into gasps she couldn't catch. It hit her so suddenly and so deep that she was left stunned, lips parted like she was still trying to speak, but nothing came out.

You didn't pull away, not right away. You kept your fingers buried inside her, letting her ride out the aftershocks as her body spasmed beneath you. Slower now, gentler, your touch shifted—fingertips stroking her from the inside, coaxing every last ripple of pleasure until she was too sensitive to take it.

Only then did you ease your hand away, and her legs fell open, limp and trembling. Her hands slipped down from your shoulders, dragging weakly across your back as her body sagged into the couch like she had no bones left to hold her up.

Her chest was still heaving.

Her skin was flushed.

And her eyes—when she finally blinked them open—were glassy, dazed, and somehow still locked on you. You leaned down, brushing your lips against her jaw before you settled over her again, your hands gentle now as they smoothed up her sides.

Vada was smiling.

Barely, lazily, breathlessly.

She looked wrecked. And it was maybe the hottest thing you'd ever seen.

Still catching her breath, she gave a quiet laugh, lips twitching like she couldn't quite form real words yet. But she tried.

"Holy shit."

You kissed the side of her mouth, slow and warm, and when you pulled back, she finally looked at you fully—eyes wide, cheeks flushed, hair messy against the cushions.

And then, with a small smirk and a husky voice, she whispered, "I can't feel my legs."

You didn't say anything right away. Just let yourself look at her, really look—at the way her lashes stuck together at the corners from the wetness in her eyes, at the little flush still lingering across her cheeks and chest. Your hand moved without thinking, gently brushing sweaty strands of hair back from her face. She leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed for a second like even that soft contact was too much.

Still breathing heavily, Vada shifted slightly beneath you, her thighs twitching in aftershocks as she tried to get comfortable again. She winced a little, laughing under her breath as her body reminded her just how hard she'd come. You whispered something close to her ear—some soft murmur that made her smile—but mostly, you stayed quiet. Let the silence settle around you both.

Eventually, you started to move. Carefully. Slowly pulling her underwear back up her legs, tucking her in again like you were scared she'd break. She watched you, dazed but glowing, her fingers brushing against your arm as you helped her. When you sat back down beside her, she immediately curled into your side, her head resting against your shoulder like it belonged there. Her breathing was steadier now, but you could still feel the occasional hitch in her chest when your fingertips moved over her bare skin.

You let your hand rest on her stomach, your thumb tracing idle little circles as you both just... lay there. Warm. Spent. Close.

And then she tilted her face up toward yours again, eyes half-lidded and mouth pink from all the kissing and gasping and biting down on moans. Her voice was rough, still catching on the tail end of her own breathlessness.

"Can we do that again?"

have you underneath all of my beliefs ~ eva x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself on a wellness retreat, where you meet eva, the presumed leader of the female empowerment group. as the days pass, her interest in you grows, and she’s determined to uncover every secret you keep, no matter what it takes.

warnings: smut (with plot), soft dom!eva, sub!reader, dirty talk, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, praise kink, aftercare if you squint

an: the long awaited eva fic is finally here!!!! i had so much fun writing this one, and i hope yall enjoy :,) she could manipulate me ANY DAY. (lmk if anyone is interested in a part 2, i have some ideas hehe)

18+ minors dni!!!

2k+ words

You hadn’t expected to stay this long.

The first day was filled with polite smiles, herbal teas, and long moments of uncomfortable silence as women from all walks of life tried to untangle themselves from the grasp of their inner demons. You kept your distance while still participating, not wanting to share much about your haunted past.

But Eva noticed you.

At first, it was subtle. A glance from across the communal fire. A brush of her hand against yours when she passed you a blanket or a cup of tea. But each day, her presence grew stronger. She didn’t speak often in group sessions, only doing so to lead them, but when she did, the others listened. Everything seemed to revolve around her, everyone looking up to her for guidance.

You’d catch her watching you during morning breathwork. Her eyes followed the way your chest rose and fell, studying every twitch in your expression. During meals, she always found a way to sit near you, never directly across, never too obvious, but always near. When you shared, which was a rarity, she listened with an intensity that felt almost invasive. Like she could see every unspoken truth inside you, waiting for you to bare more of yourself to her.

———

You returned to your room after the evening group fire, still feeling the weight of Eva’s gaze on you. She hadn’t said a word to you tonight, but she didn’t need to, she got her message across.

Your room was quiet when you stepped inside, the soft sounds of the woods humming outside your window. You moved to pull back your blanket, and that’s when you saw a folded piece of thick paper sat right in the middle of your pillow.

Your name was written on the front in soft, cursive handwriting. You picked it up and unfolded it with shaky fingers, reading the words over and over.

Come to the attic after dark. I want to talk. You’ve been holding something in. I want to help you let it out. -Eva

Your fingers stayed curled around the paper, gripping it tight, absentmindedly crinkling it a little.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, staring at the note, but you already knew it wasn’t up for debate, you had to face your fears this time.

———

The house was dark, hushed in the way it only got after everyone had gone to bed. You moved carefully, bare feet brushing over the wood floors, trying not to make a sound.

The note was still tucked in your hand.

Upstairs, a light flickered from the attic doorway. You hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, then slowly made your way up. The steps creaked softly under your weight. When you reached the top, the door was already open.

Eva sat in a chair, legs crossed, one hand resting against her cheek, her other holding a mug that steamed gently. Her robe was loose, the floral pattern falling off one of her shoulders. She looked up at you as you stood in the doorway, uncertainty etched all over your face.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she said softly, voice low. “But I hoped you would.”

You stepped inside, unsure whether or not to speak. The door shut behind you with a gentle click, and Eva set her mug down.

“You can sit,” she said, nodding toward the cushion across from her. “Or stand. Whichever feels more honest.”

You hesitated, then lowered yourself onto a cushion, heart beating a little too fast. The stained-glass window emanated colored light across the room, casting strange shapes on the wooden floor.

Eva smiled, watching you.

“I like when people come in nervous,” she said, her voice almost teasing. “It means there’s something worth digging into.”

You swallowed, fiddling with your fingers. “You said you wanted to talk.”

“I did,” she nodded. “But only if you’re ready.”

Her tone was warm, inviting you to slowly open up, but you remained silent as your eyes studied her.

“I’ve been watching you,” Eva continued, leaning forward just a little. “You keep your distance during the group sessions. You give just enough to look open, but you’re not. Not really.”

You shifted slightly under her gaze. “That’s not true.”

“No?” Her eyes lit up, like you’d said exactly what she wanted. “Then tell me something real.”

You hesitated, lips parting, but nothing came out.

Eva’s smile deepened at your silence this time. She uncrossed her legs and stood, walking toward you with slow, measured steps. She knelt in front of you, not quite touching yet, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off her body.

“I can feel it on you,” she whispered. “Whatever it is you’re hiding. It weighs heavy.”

You looked away, and her fingers brushed under your chin, coaxing your gaze back to her.

“I want it,” Eva murmured. “All of it. I want you to give it to me. And I want you to want to give it to me.”

There was something in the way she said it, perfectly persuasive. Her thumb stroked along your jaw, like she was trying to coax a confession out of you.

“I know how to hold secrets,” she said. “I know how to take pain and turn it into something beautiful. But I need you to trust me.”

You blinked, your voice coming out quieter than you meant. “Why me?”

Her eyes didn’t leave yours, flicking down to your lips before quickly returning to your stare.

“Because you haven’t let yourself open up yet,” she said simply. “And I want to be the one who does that for you.”

Her hand slipped lower, resting over your chest, pressing gently over your heart, feeling the steady beats under her palm.

“Can I?” she asked, voice a whisper now. “Will you let me?”

The room had gone still at her question, the only sounds were your breathing, and hers. A slow, steady rhythm, like she knew how this night would end long before you stepped through the door.

Eva’s hand still rested over your chest, her palm rising and falling with every breath you tried to keep steady. You were trembling slightly, her presence leaving a heavy weight in the air.

“I can feel how much you want to let go,” she said, voice soft but sure. “You’ve been holding it in for so long, haven’t you?”

Your eyes burned and you didn’t know why, but you nodded.

“Good girl,” Eva whispered. “That’s the first truth. Now let me take care of you.”

You didn’t answer as your body leaned into hers instinctively, and that was all the permission she needed.

Eva kissed you deep, one hand cradling the back of your neck, the other sliding down your side, tracing your curves. Her lips were warm and soft against yours as she kissed you like she was memorizing the way you taste, and the sounds you made.

Her hand slipped under your shirt, her fingers felt hot against your bare skin. She traced along your ribs, your stomach, until her touch reached the waistband of your pants. She paused there, pulling away momentarily, her eyes locked on yours

“I want you to let me in,” she whispered. “Don’t hold back with me.”

You gave her a small, shaky but eager nod. She smiled as her lips met yours again, the kiss deeper than the previous one. She eased her hand beneath the fabric, her touch featherlight, but deliberate. Eva pushed your panties aside before she stroked slowly along your wet folds, her fingers sliding through your slit with ease.

“You’re already trembling,” she murmured, her voice low and soft. “You’ve been needing this, haven’t you?”

You whimpered, biting your lip.

Eva moved her fingers in slow, careful circles against your clit. Her lips stayed close to yours, placing soft kisses over your mouth, your cheek, and your jaw as you spread your legs a bit wider, wordlessly inviting her to go further.

She pushed two fingers inside you, deep and slow. The stretch made you gasp, and she held still for a moment, letting you adjust to the feeling.

“Just like that,” she whispered. “You’re doing so well.”

She began to move her fingers, thrusting in and out of your heat, her thumb gliding against your clit in a steady rhythm. Your hips bucked up towards the touch, chasing the pressure as desperate moans fell from your lips.

“Stay with me,” Eva murmured, pushing your hip down with her free hand. “I want to feel you fall apart.”

Your muscles tightened, heat coiling deep inside you. Her thrusts sped up, but she didn’t rush you. She watched you slowly unravel, her voice anchoring you in quiet affirmations between kisses.

You’re safe. I’ve got you. Let it happen.

Your orgasm crashed over you without much warning, clenching down around her fingers as you threw your head back, a low but loud moan filling the quiet room. Eva held you through it, her fingers still moving just enough to help draw your climax out of you. You clung to her floral robe, your cheek against her shoulder, your body trembling in her lap.

But she didn’t stop.

Eva shifted you, gently laying you back against the cushions on the floor. She pressed soft kisses along your thighs, over your stomach, then met your gaze again as her fingers found your wet core once more.

“I know you can give me more,” she whispered. “But only if it feels good. Only if you want to.”

You were already nodding before you even realized, before your brain caught up to your body.

You didn’t have words anymore, just ache and need swirling low in your belly as she leaned over you. She gave you a quiet nod in return and leaned in, kissing your shoulder as her fingers pressed against your soaked cunt.

She easily slipped her two fingers inside of you again with a practiced curl that made your hips jerk. Your mouth opened in a sharp gasp.

“You can take it,” Eva whispered, lips brushing the corner of your mouth. “You need this. Don’t fight it.”

Eva stroked your clit in a lazy, circular rhythm, never faltering. Your body tensed immediately, already so close it hurt. You grabbed at her wrist to ground yourself.

The pressure built fast, almost too fast. Your body was still overstimulated from the first orgasm, and every stroke of her fingers now felt overwhelming. Your thighs tried to close around her hand, and she used her free arm to gently pin one down.

“Shh,” Eva cooed, breath warm against your cheek. “It’s okay. Let it happen. I’ve got you.”

Her fingers curled inside you, pressing against your sensitive sweet spot with every thrust. Your muscles tensed as your breath started turning shallow and quick, tears welling up in your eyes from the pleasurable overstimulation.

Your body stiffened, back arching painfully as your mouth opened in a silent cry as your second orgasm tore through you. It was white hot and too much, crashing over you in thick waves, dragging every sound out of your throat.

Eva held you steady as you came undone again. Her fingers didn’t stop moving, not until your body started to twitch, thighs jerking from the intensity, breath coming in soft sobs.

“There you are,” she whispered. “That’s it. Give it to me. Just like that.”

Your legs trembled uncontrollably, your hands gripping her arms as the aftershocks hit you hard. Your body was soaked and shivering as she slowly pulled her fingers out of your spent heat.

Eva gathered you into her arms, pulling you into her lap. Her touch gentle and soothing. She pulled a soft blanket over your body and held you close, rocking you slightly.

You felt weightless and empty in the best way, like something you didn’t know you were carrying had finally slipped free.

Eva brushed your hair back from your damp forehead and kissed you softly.

“You did so well,” she whispered. “You let go. I’m so proud of you.”

A small content smile formed on your lips as you tucked your face into her neck. You weren’t sure where to go from here, but you knew you didn’t want to leave.

my masterlist

Not a Crush

not my gif

Jackie Taylor x fem!reader

Summary: despite what the entire team thinks, Jackie doesn’t have a crush on you. So why does it make her skin crawl when she sees a guy trying to flirt with you?

Warning(s): jealous!Jackie, possessive!Jackie, oblivious!reader, pre-crash!Jackie, Nat being a little shit, simp!Jackie

Word count: 2.6k

Masterlist: tba

No matter how much the team teased her about it, Jackie Taylor did not have a crush on you.

Did she like your soft smile? Yes. Could she spend days on end listening to a recording of your cheerful and sweet laugh? Why, of course. Did her heart stop whenever you looked at her a second too long? Maybe, but it was only because she thought you were beautiful —in a platonic way.

She did not like you. She didn’t think of you every night before she went to bed. Nope. Not at all. And Nat could shove her own words up her ass, because she sure as hell wasn’t a simp for you.

Yeah, as if.

“Hey,” you waved your hand in the air as you walked towards the field. You had just changed into your football uniform, and looked around. “Is everyone ready for practice?”

“Yeah,” Nat said, stretching her arms. “We were waiting for you for like, I don’t know, ten minutes.”

“You’re the last one. You know what that means,” Van smirked at you, and if it wasn’t for Tai’s presence next to them, you would have walked over to smack them in the face.

“Gotta run for ten minutes around the field,” Lottie said in a singsong voice. You narrowed your eyes at her.

“I’m gonna get you, Matthews,” you threatened with mock anger.

“What’s going on?” Jackie, who had been talking to coach Ben about something, asked. Her smile grew a little bigger when she noticed you within the other team players, and you swear you heard Nat and Shauna giggle to each other.

“Y/N was last,” Nat said. “She has to run for ten minutes.”

“Okay, fine—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jackie said. Her voice, always soft and bright, was commanding. She wasn’t the Jackie who played around anymore, she was captain Jackie, and everyone in the team knew it.

“What?” Van asked, offended. They looked between the both of you, mouth ajar. “That’s not fair! It’s a tradition you started, Jackie. Last one has in the field during practice has to run while the others train. Y/N was the last one today.”

“Enough, Palmer,” Jackie gave them a stern look. “Y/N was late because of me.”

You gave her a surprised look, taken aback by her lie. You should not have been bewildered, though— Jackie always had your back no matter what, using her easy charm to cover up for your slip-ups

“Making out before practice?” Nat asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Jackie’s cheeks turned a bright red color, but she didn’t dare to look at you. Instead, she clapped her hands together a few times, and everyone around sobered up.

“Divide yourself into two teams,” Jackie raised her voice. “Whoever team wins, gets to rest while the others run a lap.”

Everyone groaned, looking around to start to form the groups, trying to be as equitative as possible.

“Shauna, you’re captain of team green. Team blue is my team,” Jackie called, and the brown eyed woman nodded, wasting no time to craft the perfect team in her mind as she looked at everyone in the field.

“Okay, cool—”

“Y/N,” Jackie interrupted her best friend. “You’re on my team.”

“And in her heart,” whispered Nat.

Thankfully, neither Jackie nor you hear it.

If Jackie did not like you, she obviously also didn’t feel any ownership over you. She wasn’t jealous, she wasn’t possessive; there was no point in being those things, as you were both just two good friends.

But sometimes, someone would walk up to you and Jackie forgot her inner mantra, throwing it out the window of her mind. The person would smirk and lean in close, feigning they could not hear what you were saying, and Jackie would feel something dark and uncomfortable burning inside of her.

Sure, you weren’t hers, but that didn’t mean anyone had the right to talk to you, so obviously trying to flirt it was painful to observe.

They didn’t have the right because— because— well, because she said so.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jackie said, walking up to your locker. 

Her voice was high-pitched, and you turned to look at her. Anyone else would have thought nothing of her tone, but you knew her; it was the same voice she used when she wanted to be rude but knew she couldn’t.

“Hi, Jackie,” you said, completely forgetting about the man who was talking to you about the chemistry test you both had next week.

Jackie walked with purpose, and she stood in front of you. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her body. You sighed in relief; it was starting to get cold, and her warmth was welcomed.

The woman smiled when you rested your head on her shoulder, and big green eyes twinkling as she started the man down.

“What were you talking about?” she asked, even though she wasn’t interested in the least. She knew how men were— she suffered their unwanted advances on the daily. It was all an act to get you on their bed.

“Oh,” the man said, clearing his throat. “We were discussing the next chemistry exam—”

“Well, I hope you study hard. Bye.”

You barely had time to close your locker before Jackie was pulling you away from that man.

“Hey— Jackie,” you complained, pulling your books closer to your chest. “What was that for?”

“That boy is a womanizer,” Jackie said through gritted teeth. “He just wanted to get in your panties.”

“You think?” you asked, turning slightly to look at the boy, who was leaning against your locker and staring at you. When he saw you looking back, he smirked and waved. “I think he just wants help studying.”

“You’re too naïve,” the blonde said. “He has tried that same trick with half the school.”

“Really?” you whispered conspicuously. “I thought he was just being friendly.”

Jackie shook her head, leaning in to kiss the side of your head. Her arm was still around you, and it made you walk awkwardly. You still didn’t complain.

“Boys are never friendly just because, Y/N,” she said. “They only got one thing on their mind.”

“Kissing?” you raised an eyebrow at her.

Jackie’s laugh could be heard all around the halls, a melodic sound that carried you out of the building.

“Every year it gets colder earlier,” you complained, shivering slightly.

“Are you cold?” Jackie asked, finally pulling away. You almost moaned in complain at the lack of warmth on your side, but before you could voice your discomfort, a weight was placed on your shoulders.

You looked to your side to see Jackie’s team letterman jacket resting over you. You smiled, putting your books in one hand to put the sleeve on.

“Thank you,” you said, with genuine gratitude. Jackie shook her head, simply reaching over to grab your books so you fully put on the jacket.

“Wanna hang out in the field?” she asked. Once you had the jacket on, she wrapped her arm around your shoulders again, because she wanted to but most importantly, because she could.

“The one time we don’t have to train, and you still wanna go over there,” you rolled your eyes, but followed her steps when she changed course.

She laughed again, turning to look at you. With bright big eyes, and lips pulled into a tight smile, you thought no one would ever be as pretty as she was.

As you walked, Jackie peaked behind you and saw the same man, looking over with frowned eyes. As she heard you talking about your day, she raised her arm enough for everyone to see the back of your jacket, where Taylor stood proudly over her team number.

She’s wearing my jacket, not yours. Dipshit.

To say she was ecstatic at his scolf was an understatement.

Yeah, she thought, let everyone know she only wears my number. Let everyone know she’s mine.

That time, she didn’t try to correct herself.

“I think Jackie has a crush on me.”

Van, who was tying up their cleats, stopped suddenly.

“Uh?” they asked, blinking a few times.

“I—” you cleared your throat, your cheeks suddenly turning red. “I think she might like like me.”

“Oh, shit,” Van said, rubbing their face.

“Did— did I say something wrong?”

“Yes!” Van let go of the laces, irritated. “You weren’t supposed to find out until November. You just lost me ten bucks!” they groaned. “Thanks, buddy.”

“What?” you gave them a puzzling look. “Wait— you have bet on me?”

“No,” Van waved their hands around. “Not on you. On your inability to see what’s happening right in front of your face, to be exact.”

“Okay, rude,” you said. “I’m not that oblivious.”

“Oh, no. Of course not,” Van said. Their tone was laced with sarcasm. “You joined the team two years ago, and only now you have realized.”

“Wait, she has liked me for two years?” you asked in a whisper.

“Duh,” Van gave you a long look. “Jesus, you’re a lost cause.”

“Screw you.”

“What made you realize?” Van asked, with genuine curiosity. They put their feet back down on the ground, leaning over the bench to look at you.

“She, um—” you looked around, making sure no one else was in the changing room. Feeling guilty over spilling such deep secrets, you moved over and sat down next to Van, so no one else would hear. “She kind of lied, the other day. So I wouldn’t have to run around the field.”

“She always lies,” Van scoffed.

“Jackie never lies,” you said, firmly. You gave the redhead a look, one that would have been threatening if it wasn’t coming from you. “She’s an honest person.”

Van chuckled. “She will lie to save your ass,” they said. “Because she’s the fattest crush on you.”

“Fuck,” you whispered.

After practice a week later, instead of going back to the changing room with the rest of the team, you grabbed Jackie and pulled at her hand, forcing her to move toward the bleachers. She went willingly, allowing you to take her wherever it was that you wanted her to be.

She would walk through fire if it meant holding your hand.

In a platonic way, of course.

“Jackie,” you said in a serious tone. You took a deep breath, and stared into big green eyes who looked back with passion. “We need to talk.”

She frowned her eyebrows, quickly picking up on your mood swing. “What’s wrong?” she asked, moving closer.

Jackie’s hand rested on your waist when she saw you starting to pull away. She hated it; hated whenever there was distance between the two of you. She wanted you close to her always, holding your hand and laughing with you.

“I think— I think you might be interested in someone.”

Jackie gave you a puzzling look. Her, being into someone? Not a chance.

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” She asked, as confused as she has ever been.

“Don’t make me say it, please,” you moaned, like a petulant toddler. “This is embarrassing.”

“Well, I can’t read your mind, can I?”

You looked away from her, incapable of looking into her eyes as you spoke.

“I think I might like someone, too.”

Jackie froze at your words. Her jaw dropped, eyes open so wide it looked like they might jump out of their sockets.

“You…” she gave a bewildered look. “You like someone?”

You nodded, and her hand tightened on your waist, as if she needed some support to keep her from falling over.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered, closing her eyes. You gave her a concerned look.

“Jackie—”

“Is it that boy from the locker? The one who kept trying to flirt with you?”

“No. It’s—” you cleared your throat. “It’s not a boy.”

“Oh, no,” Jackie blinked away the white spots that were starting to form on her vision. “Nat? Tai? Or—” she gasped, looking at you accusingly. “Don’t tell me it’s Shauna.”

“Why would it be— No! It’s not Shauna.”

“It’s not?” she gave you a look. “Thank god.”

“It’s you,” you whispered.

“Me?” Jackie asked, trying to make sure she had heard you properly. “You like me. Me.”

“Yeah. I like you, Jackie.”

She leaned in close to you, looking at your lips. You closed your eyes, preparing yourself for her kiss. Instead, you felt her weight over you, literally on you.

“Jackie? Oh my god!”

Safe to say, it took the Yellowjackets over a month to get over the little spectacle you and coach Ben had pulled off when Jackie fainted.

You had wanted to keep it a secret, of course— Class Queen and captain of the football team, fainting because a girl had confessed their feelings to her? The rumor would be too juicy. But you also couldn’t control yourself when Jackie fell on top of you, eyes closed and mouth open, and it took you approximately ten seconds to take all the information in before you were screaming for help.

The help came in the form of Ben, who had come over running. He frantically looked at the team captain, laying on the grass as you fanned her with your hand, and he ran back inside to get Bill’s help.

It didn’t take long for the girls to come out of the changing room, and soon enough they pulled the pieces together; your conversation with Van they had told the entire team (which had led to Tai waving around fifteen ten dollar bills around the showers), your nervous attitude over practice, the tension they had felt before they left the two of you alone…

“Holy shit,” Nat said, smirking as you tried to wake Jackie up. “She fainted. She actually fainted.”

The story soon spread, faster and more explosive than gunpowder around fire. Soon enough, Jackie Taylor’s untaintable reputation got washed away by the new knowledge that she was a hopeless romantic.

Two months later, people would still whisper about Jackie whenever she walked down the corridors of Wiskayok High School.

“You think you will still be Class Queen after… what happened?” you asked, taking notice of how many students were staring at the two of you.

“Of course,” she smiled that charming smile you loved so much. “I’m Jackie Taylor, baby. This highschool would be nothing without me.”

“You’re too full of it,” you rolled your eyes.

She wrapped her arm around your waist, pulling you in close to her. She kissed your cheek, smiling.

“It doesn’t bother you?” you asked once you reached your locker. “Y’know, everyone still talking about it?”

“Let them talk. They aren’t mean, anyways,” Jackie said, raising her shoulders. You gave her a look; she would never notice just how many people thought ill of her. She thought too kindly of the world, but that made it two of you. “As long as it makes them talk about how you’re my girlfriend, I don’t care.”

You put the books you no longer needed back into your locker, and once you closed it, she pressed you against it.

When her lips pressed against yours, you stopped worrying about the whispers and the teasing from the team; Jackie was right.

Let them talk.

So there’s this huge dudebro in my class, who, yesterday, sat next to me. And I’m sitting there sweating because like… I’m wearing my shirt with the lesbian flag on it, and he’s the most popular jock in school, and always has this look on his face that say ‘I can and will kill you’. He looks me up and down, stares at me for a minute and then goes, “So. Girls in skirts and long socks, am I right?”

To which I nodded solemnly, both out of agreement, surprise and also a healthy amount of awkward fear. He nodded and went, “You get it.”

I said, “Yep.” He fistbumped me, and on went our lives.

Jenna on set :)

Ending so devastating I had to draw a happy ending for her

I knew Mari wasn't going to make it bc if she had lived my girl would NOT have respected their pact. she would have written books, would go on talk shows calling Shauna shanibal lecter, she would have been a Tonya harding type of celebrity and I love that for her.

Love these

Jenna for The cut

rest in peace to the funniest mfs on this show, they hate to see a bad bitch living

jackie kinda sorta halfway fucked travis once and now like a bad pre-realization hookup she cant stop texting him from the grave telling him all about her lesbian situationship and her bisexual best friend and how they used to make out under the covers and shit. and travis is just like cool. i love this drama tell me more

all of the jenna x male reader writers and requesters are all porn rotted men and it’s obvious. we can tell. it’s always the no prep, barely any foreplay, unprotected sex, that gives it away 😟💀‼️

what kills me more is that there are MEN requesting and writing fanfics 😭 like why don’t you go build a house or what else lol she’s not calling you daddy creepy weirdo

Screamed.

YES. YES. This is why I love you @sorrowedpickle 😫💖

Drunk in love.

g!p!Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, that’s it. Pure smut

a/n: i was eating sea food while writing this and so was @mommykye and @makncheese12 who were lovely enough to help with editing it so go follow them

Her touch was electric, a frantic exploration that sent shivers down your spine. Her fingers dug into your sides, pulling you closer as her lips remained glued to the sensitive curve of your neck, her breath hot and ragged against your skin making you shiver. The frantic rhythm of your pulse thrummed in your head as you fumbled through your purse to find the key card.

The memories of the Met Gala after-party swam hazily in your mind – the clinking of champagne glasses, the sound of laughter and conversations with so many people and friends of Jenna faint in the back of your mind almost near forgotten as you rush to get inside. The drinks had loosened your will to act right, painting the air between you with desire. Every glance, every accidental brush of skin to skin, had sent sparks flying through your core and even more through Jenna’s.

And now, her pressed against your back in the dimly lit hallway, the carefully constructed facade of polite conversation had shattered as whispers in your ear were said throughout the car ride. Her after-party dress, a shedded down version of her original dress, clung to her curves like a second skin, each movement a tantalizing display. Her hands, emboldened by the unspoken tension, slipped beneath the hem of your own short dress, sending a jolt of heat through you. You gasped as her fingers, insistent and knowing, traced the lace of your panties. Her teeth grazed the shell of your ear, a delicate torment that made you shudder with anticipation.

The fear of being seen, the awareness of the public space, spurred you to action. Your fingers finally closed around the cool metal of the key card. With a surge of adrenaline, you slid it into the lock and stumbled into the darkened sanctuary of the hotel room, Jenna a very close shadow pressed against your back before you turned in her hold as she kicked the door shut, a loud bang shouting out as it clicked.

The urgency intensified. Her hands worked swiftly at the zipper of your dress, a soft growl escaping her lips as the fabric gave way. Simultaneously, your own hands reached behind her, fumbling with the delicate strings of her corset. Your lips crashed against hers, a desperate, hungry kiss that tasted of expensive champagne and her intoxicating Dior perfume, a blend underscored by her own musk that sent your senses reeling.

The sound of tearing fabric filled the small space as she impatiently pulled the expensive dress she had tailored for you down your body, the delicate material pooling at your feet, discarded without a second thought. Her hands, now with uninhibited access, roamed your skin, mapping the contours of your body with a feverish intensity. You, in turn, finally managed to untie the intricate lacework of her corset, releasing her from its structured embrace no thanks to her as she made it much harder for you, more focused on getting you naked than herself.

Before you could fully register the change in atmosphere, you were pushed forward, stumbling onto the plush surface of the bed. She followed, a lack of grace in her movements as she crawled on top of you, her gaze hot and filled with a raw desire that mirrored your own.

Her dark eyes, wide and dilated, raked over you. "You look so pretty like this," she whispered, her voice husky with longing. Your hair fanned out against the pillows, breath catching in your throat as you stared up at her, every nerve ending alight with anticipation. Your own hands reached up, fumbling with the buttons of her silk button up, eager to feel her skin against yours.

Her lips left a trail of fire down your neck. "beautiful," she murmured, her breath hot against your flesh. A shaky laugh escaped your lips. "You're one to talk." The words were barely out before your hands found her waist, pulling her down between your legs, a silent plea for the friction you both craved.

A husky laugh rumbled in her chest, a sound that vibrated through your core, igniting a firestorm of sensation. You felt her hand reach behind you, fumbling and almost struggling with the straps before pulling them apart and quickly discarding the offending fabric joined your dress on the floor. In the next instant, her lips closed over your nipple in a swift motion, a sensation so intense that coherent thought dissolved into a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

you moan quietly, hand reaching to the back of her hand as you hold her there while your other hand works to find the strap of her own bra.

The tug on her bra strap was clumsy but effective. The delicate lace parted, and you finally had the skin-on-skin contact you craved. Jenna shifted above you, her weight a delicious pressure. Her mouth left your breast, trailing kisses down your sternum, each touch sending jolts of electricity through your already heightened senses.

Jenna’s breath hitched as your fingers finally released her bra. The immediate skin-on-skin contact sent a fresh wave of desire crashing over you both. She shifted, her silk shirt falling off completely, revealing the soft swell of her breasts and below the band of her boxers. Her dark eyes locked with yours, a silent, hungry conversation passing between you.

Her hand slid down your stomach, her fingers dipping beneath the elastic of your panties once more, finding the slick heat waiting there. You gasped, your hips lifting instinctively as she explored you with a practiced touch.

“God, you feel so good,” she groaned, her voice thick with lust. Your hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back as she fought to rain kisses down your jawline.

Without warning, she shifted again, her weight pressing you further into the mattress. Her lips found yours once more, a deep, open-mouthed kiss that left you breathless. Her tongue tangled with yours, a frantic dance of desire. You could taste the lingering champagne and something else, something uniquely her, that drove you wild.

She broke the kiss abruptly, her gaze intense. “I want you to taste me,” she rasped, her hand still firmly between your legs, her fingers teasing and probing. Your own hands reached for the hem of her boxers, your desire a tight knot in your belly.

“Then let me,” you managed.

Jenna didn’t hesitate. With a rough tug, she pulled down her boxers, revealing the impressive length and girth of her hard dick. It pulsed visibly, thick and heavy, the head already glistening. She moved, a low growl rumbling in her chest, and lay back against the pillows, her eyes never leaving yours.

Your breath came out ragged. You moved to lay on your stomach and reached out, your fingers trembling slightly as you wrapped them around the shaft. It was hot and solid, filling your hand completely. Jenna groaned, her hands moving to your head to grip your hair tightly as she watched.

You leaned down, your lips brushing against the velvety head. She inhaled sharply, her hips lifting slightly off the mattress. You took her into your mouth, the taste instantly familiar and intoxicating. You sucked deeply, your hands working up and down the length of her dick, relishing the feel of her throbbing against your tongue.

Jenna’s moans grew louder, more desperate. Her hands tangled in your hair, guiding your head, urging her dick deeper down your throat. Her hips bucked against your mouth, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the frantic beat of your own heart. You could feel the tension building in her body, the anticipation radiating off her in waves.

The taste of her was potent, arousing you further. You swirled your tongue around the head, paying special attention to the sensitive underside. A strangled sound escaped her lips, fingers tightened in your hair, a silent plea for more.

After what felt like an eternity, she pulled you back slightly, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her eyes were glazed with lust, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

“Fuck, baby,” she groaned, her voice thick and raw. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

She moved again, her hands gripping your thighs, pulling your legs open. You instinctively parted them further, your own desire a burning ache between your thighs. She positioned herself between your legs, the hard head of her thick dick pressing against your slick, swollen pussy. You gasped, a primal sound of anticipation escaping your lips.

“Please, Jenna,” you whispered, your hands reaching for her hips, guiding her closer, desperate for the connection.

With a guttural groan that seemed to tear from her very core, she thrust forward, her dick sliding deep inside you. You cried out, a sharp intake of breath as she stretched you open, the sensation both intensely pleasurable and momentarily overwhelming.

She paused for a fraction of a second, letting you adjust, her hands gripping your hips tightly, her gaze locked on your face.

Then, she began to move.

Her thrusts were deep and rough, fueled by the alcohol and the raw, desperate need that had been simmering between you all night. The worn bedframe slammed against the headboard with each powerful movement, the rhythmic thudding echoing in the small room like a frantic heartbeat. You wrapped your legs around her waist, meeting her forceful thrusts with your own instinctive movements, your hands gripping her back, digging your nails into her skin, leaving long red marks in there wake.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” she grunted, her breath hot against your ear, the words laced with a desperate edge. “So fucking good.”

You were both slick with sweat, your bodies moving together in a primal, almost violent rhythm. The world outside the hotel room ceased to exist. There was only the intense friction, the deep penetration, the desperate gasps and moans that filled the air, punctuated by the relentless banging of the bed.

Breaking her relentless rhythm, she suddenly flipped you over with surprising strength, manhandling you onto your hands and knees. You barely registered the abrupt change in position, your mind completely consumed by the intense sensations flooding your body. Her hands gripped your hips, lifting you slightly as she slammed into you from behind, her thick dick hitting your deepest point with each forceful thrust.

“Like this, baby?” she growled, her voice thick with lust and a hint of something almost feral.

“Yes,” you gasped, your head thrown back, her hand tangling itself into your hair while her other hand pushes you down between your shoulder blades. “Oh god, yes, Jenna. Fuck me.”

The force of her thrusts was almost brutal, the bed rocking precariously beneath you, threatening to give way entirely. You could hear the wood creak and groan under the immense strain, but neither of you cared. You were both too far gone, lost in the intoxicating, almost violent frenzy of your drunken, desperate coupling.

Jenna’s hands roamed your body, squeezing your waist, pulling you closer and pushing you down, her fingers digging into your skin, leaving faint trails. Her teeth grazed your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, a primal claim. So much different than her usual calm public figure.

The rhythmic pounding continued, faster and harder, the urgency escalating until you both teetered on the precipice. You cried out, your body clenching around her thick dick as wave after wave of intense, shuddering pleasure washed over you, stealing your breath. Jenna groaned loudly, a primal sound of release tearing from her throat as she pumped into you one last time, her entire body shuddering with the force of her orgasm before collapsing on top of you, her weight heavy and utterly satisfying.

You both laid there for a moment, taking a moment to breathe and stay in the small embrace.

“More,” Jenna mumbles suddenly, breaking the silence as a sudden burst of energy courses through her.

You moan softly as she yanks you to the end of the bed, legs falling off as she positions herself inside of you again.

~~~~~

The frantic energy of moments before dissolved into a heavy, sated silence after hours of Jenna endlessly pushing both your limits. The only sounds were the shallow, rapid breaths escaping your lips and the deeper, rumbling inhales and exhales of Jenna’s body pressed against yours. Her weight, which had felt electric and demanding just moments ago, now felt comforting, possessive. Her still-hard dick remained buried deep inside you, a lingering reminder of the raw intensity that had just consumed you both.

A small, involuntary whimper escaped your lips as you shifted slightly beneath her. The friction, though dulled, was still undeniably present. You could feel the faint throbbing of her pulse against your inner walls, a subtle echo of the storm that had just passed.

Jenna mumbled something incoherent, eyebrows furrowing before relaxing, her face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, her breath warm and damp against your skin. Her grip on your hips gone, but she remained connected with them wrapped around your torso, her body a dead weight atop yours.

You ran a hand through her sweat-dampened hair, the dark strands clinging to your fingers. The scent of her – the lingering perfume, the musky undertones of exertion, and something uniquely Jenna – filled your senses. A wave of tenderness washed over you, a stark contrast to the almost violent passion of your lovemaking.

A soft snore escaped her lips, a clear indication that exhaustion and the lingering effects of the champagne had finally claimed her. Her body remained intimately joined with yours, a testament to the depth of your shared pleasure.

A wry smile touched your lips. You could only imagine the state of the bed, the rhythmic banging against the headboard echoing in your mind. You made a mental note to discreetly inquire about any potential damage to the furniture upon checkout. The image of the worn frame protesting under your combined frenzy was almost comical now, in the quiet aftermath. not to mention the embarrassment you’ll encounter.

Your gaze drifted to the discarded remnants of your expensive dress and her tailored gown, lying in crumpled heaps on the floor. They were casualties of your mutual desire, ripped and disregarded in your haste to be closer.

A fresh wave of desire stirred within you, a low thrumming in your core. The thought of waking up with her still inside you, the promise of a slow, deliberate awakening filled with lingering touches and whispered promises, sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You imagined the lazy stretches, the soft moans as she became aware of your intertwined bodies, the inevitable renewal of your passion.

You shifted again, trying to get more comfortable without fully dislodging her. The slight movement caused a soft groan to rumble in her chest, and she instinctively tightened her grip on you, a possessive reflex even in sleep.

A surge of affection welled up within you. This raw, unguarded intimacy, so different from the carefully curated public persona she presented, was a privilege. You knew, with a certainty that resonated deep within you, that when Jenna woke, still intimately connected to you, the night was far from over. The frantic exploration might give way to a more languid, sensual awakening, but the intensity of her desire would undoubtedly remain. And you would be there, ready to meet it, your own body already anticipating her touch.

—————

Tagslist: @skate-to-breathee @wol-fica @raven-ss @restlessdot @dumb-fvck104 @crazyoffher @rhythm-catsandwine @makncheese12 @jennasslut@t-wylia @pnsteblnme @mar-romanova @ssinfulprayers @hellenheaven @btrizi @furry-monster-trash @je-tts @mokotodenis123 @ajortga @jensortega813 @bluetreecloud20

Sister Michael could have handled the yellowjackets but coach Ben could not handle the Derry Girls

And brother there's no place like home