I Feel So Called Out??

ah, look at all the lonely people...

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

Okay so no one asked but this morning

I was in the shower right? As one does

And then the fucking SHOWER DOOR FELL ON MY TOE

And I got the band-aids and it hurt like hell, whatever

BUT IT WONT STOP BLEEDING

My mama told me I might need to get stiches tmrw if it doesnt stop by the morning

So wish me luck yall 😝😘🤗

Father, forgive me for I have SINNED-

Hiiii!

Could you write one for G!p Jenna x fem reader smut, where they are on their honeymoon going at it like rabbits, a few weeks after coming home they find out reader is pregnant?

Thank youuu

so-called "honeymoon phase"

Pairing: G!p!Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 7.2k

Warnings: this is a long long one, just immediate smut, pregnancy ofc,

a/n: hellloooo and yes i definitely can!!! thank you sm for the request!!!!! i need to see jenna in more thom browne outfits ohmygodddd

masterlist.

"Jenna… O-Oh my God, f-fuck, baby, please…!"

Jenna's relentless thrusts rocked your back against the cold and hard surface of the kitchen island, feeling her cock stretching and filling you up, breaking you down to a whiny and desperate mess for her to satisfy herself.

A pathetic whine escaped your lips, letting her penetrate you even further as you feel your eyes roll back in pleasure while your legs—  weakened by the amount of times she gave you countless of orgasms— were thrown over Jenna's shoulder, her hands digging into the skin of your waist, keeping you steady while she slammed you up and down on her hard cock.

Her mouth hung open, hot breaths followed by low moans eliciting from her pretty lips, a bead of sweat starting to form on her forehead as she kept bucking her hips deep inside you. "Fuck, y/n..."

You can feel her eyes roaming on your body, relishing in the way you look so fucking hot under her control; your eyes swelling in tears as you tried your best to muffle your sounds, your neck down to your chest littered with red markings and hickeys, your boobs bouncing along with her thrusts, your back arching everytime she slams you back on her dick, your ass red with markings of her hands coming down on you, your pussy slick with your own cum mixed with hers.

You looked so perfect with her thick cock sliding in and out.

The kitchen was a mess, especially the counter beneath you, now slick with your combined juices mixed with Jenna's sloppy pre-cum.

For what felt like a pleasurable eternity for hours on end, Jenna had taken full control over your trembling body, relentlessly driving her thick cock into your well-abused cunt while your desperate pleas of begging her to stop fell on deaf ears—ignoring your screams and moans as she rammed her shaft deep inside you.

"You're... f-fucking me so good, Jenna, oh God!"You squirmed beneath her, unable to do anything but uselessly cry out her name which sounded like an addicting lustful melody to her ears as she continued her assault on you. Her intent was clear—she wouldn't stop until your vision flicks dark.

Jenna looked fixated on this sinful sight of you, on how you were on the brink of tears from her harsh thrusts—your heated expressions being one of the things she loved the most when you were beneath her.

With each forceful thrust, she seemed to plunge deeper, her cock disappearing and reappearing in your tight heat while your clit glistened with slick and arousal, turning bright crimson red as Jenna overstimulated the poor sensitive bud, placing intense pressure as she pressed two of her fingers against it, rubbing with intensity that didn't seem to dwindle down.

"J-jenna! No, no, please, stop! Too much, I—" You cried out, eyes squeezed shut while your head pulled back as you feel another wave of an orgasm ripping through you, wrapping your arms around Jenna's back, your nails digging into her skin.

The smacks of skin on skin, Jenna's grunts and soft moans, and the wet squelching of her cock driving into you was enough for you, your pussy constantly clenching and unclenching around her hard length.

She tilted your chin up, your eyes meeting with someone lustful and dark, "Be a good girl and look at me, yeah?" Jenna's pace quickened all while moaning in immense pleasure. "I wanna see your pretty face fall apart beneath me."

"Yes, Jenna!" You screamed as your body arched off the counter to to accommodate her size, "Oh, fuck, don't stop!" She pulled back, her tip lathering on your slick before slamming back in, your pussy clenched around her cock that you struggled to take in full, a large bump visible on your abdomen.

Your hands reached over to Jenna's stomach, hoping to find something to hang on before you feel like you might pass out from her thrusts, feeling her labored breaths through her chest.

You can tell that she was close to her climax too.

"I need to pull out, y/n..." She whispered, her voice all too hot and raspy. Her hands that were seated along your sides a moment ago snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to her, her body tensing up, "'m gonna cum..."

"No! No, please, d-don't go!" A whiny, and all over pathetic, choke of a beg left your abused and marked lips, the though of Jenna pulling away from your pussy was just simply unbearable. "Fill me with your cum Jenna, please!"

"Are you sure, baby?" Jenna husked, her breath getting heavier with each slam.

You clung to her desperately, the hand that was on her stomach trailed over to her forearms, your nails digging into her skin as if you were trying to anchor her to you.

"I can take it..." You whined, begged, pleaded her, "p-please, I can take your huge cock, I'll—mmhph!"

Jenna's lips were pressed onto yours immediately, her lips leaving a faint taste of your juices earlier when she ate you out and with the faint flavor of her lipgloss, tilting her head to grant her even more access.

It was almost embarrassing how you kept moaning even when she has your lips latched onto yours, a string of saliva appearing everytime she tore her soft lips away.

Your hands rushed over to cup her cheeks, bringing her face impossibly closer to yours as you opened your mouth to let her hot tongue slip into yours, your fingers roaming all over her skin while you traced the contours of her face and neck as she made out with you, her tongue sinking in deeper and deeper, fighting a battle you soon surrendered.

You can feel her movements becoming more erratic, desperate, her rhythm starting to falter, yet she remained focused on you and your pleasure alone; her lips never leaving yours as she felt the knot in her stomach tightening.

Jenna tore away from your lips, a whine escaping your mouth from the loss of contact alone, "Fucking slut," she rasped, removing her grip from your body and slapping the plump curve of your ass, "You're gonna cum with me, alright pretty girl? I want your perfect cunt filled with our cum. You can do that for me, right?"

The sting sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine as she delivered a sharp slap to your ass that echoed across the room and managed to elicit a whimper and a gasp from you, your brain reprogramming itself to a primal need within yo to obey her every word.

"Yes, Jenna!" You moaned, your eyes rolling back and your toes curling while a string of desperate pleads left your mouth, begging Jenna to cum inside of you. "I want your cum, baby, please, I need it—Oh, God, fuck!"

Your body came before you can even react, a guttural groan and a pornographic moan came out of your lips while you felt Jenna burry herself deep inside you, her cock pulsing and twitching against your walls as she spilled her hot seed inside of you, her body shivering yet continued doing slow and long strokes to your cunt.

"Jenna! Shit, Jenna!" You cried out her name as you came undone, your chest heaving in exhaustion while letting the both of you ride out eachothers orgasms as you kept purposely clenching against her dick while she kept thrusting.

After a moment, Jenna collapsed against you. You feel her cum going no where but leaking onto the kitchen counter. Her breath came in ragged gasps, almost like she ran a marathon as she buried her face in the crook of your neck.

You look over to her once you came down from your own high, her messy fringe falling over her eyes with her head down low, her hips unintentionally bucking against your wet cunt, her body still shaking with pleasure.

It didn't take a while before she lifted herself up.

And it was still so amazing that her cock was still so hard even if it was still inside of you after cumming in you for like, what? Four times since the both of you woke up in a hot sweat after another intense fuck earlier night that left you silly and senseless.

She looked down at your puffy folds that covered her dick in a new layer of cum, her fingers reaching for your clit to coat them in your own slick and smear it against your lips, a sadistic smile finding its way across her face.

"Look at you… such a slut for me." She relished in the way you immediately opened your mouth to clean her fingers all on your own, your lips hanging open as you gave her the perfect view of your tongue swirling against her fingers while you looked up at her with the prettiest and desperate doe eyes.

"My perfect slut to fuck."

You hummed in agreement, the corners of your lips twitching into a smirk while your mouth eagerly kept sucking on her fingers as you savored the taste of your cum mixed with hers as you moaned softly against her digits, saliva coating her skin.

You know how much she loves it when you put on a show for her.

She called you her pretty girl, slut, whore, cumslut, or maybe her good girl if you obeyed to her orders (which almost never happens), and it always never fails to make your pussy throb in delight and the musky scent of her cock always managed to make you feel as if you were meant to be her cockwarming whore.

It's almost hard to believe this perfect girl was your wife.

"Yours," you whispered breathlessly as Jenna pulled her fingers away from you, drool trailing down to your neck as Jenna traced your body all the way back down to your pulsating heat, leaning in and kissing you dangerously near the lips but never granted you the satisfaction.

You were going insane. Sex and love drunk with her. “Want…" You gasped, words that you finally put together instead of something coherent coming out in a needy whimper as you rolled your hips against her.

She hummed, "Yeah? Want what, y/n?" Jenna teased, her lips tempting to hover over yours and place a gentle peck, her breath hot against your skin.

You whimpered in frustration as you try to sit up with your elbows, your body awaiting to collapse and pass out. "I want you," you finally murmured, your brain remained stuck in a sex drunk haze over her.

If Jenna's smile couldn't get any wider, you'd be wrong. Her eyes darkened just the slightest bit at your pleads as she leaned in closer, kissing your neck while she rubbed slow circles along your clit. "You want me for what, baby?" she murmured, "You need to be more specific to get what you want. You know me."

You let out a frustrated groan, you could almost roll your eyes if they weren't rolling backwards instead of the usual eyeroll, your hips arching up to search for the tiniest amount of friction. "Want your cock… Please."

"But I'm already inside you, pretty girl.” Jenna purred, her fingers slowly increasing in their pace, drawing figure of 8's on your wet and throbbing clit, making your hips subtly buck in stimulation.

"No!" You whined, slightly kicking your legs behind her, squirming beneath her body as you struggled to tell her want you want. "My mouth... fuck my mouth, Jenna, please..."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you baby?" Her hands found themselves in the strands of your hair, slightly tugging on them as she whispered, her words sinful, "Sucking my cock after I fucked you with it?"

"Please..." You whined, "please, I need it, I need you."

You were beginning to slip in that subspace to please her, your mouth opening and closing only to serve as symphony to Jenna's ears by begging and pleading your wants and needs only to be granted with nothing.

Until Jenna shifted her position without a word, pulling back slowly until her cock was free from your dripping heat, watching how cum kept gushing out of your hot cunt. The sudden absence of her dick from your walls left you feeling empty and achingly needy for more, a pathetic wind couldn't help but escape you.

Before you could ask her, Jenna's soft hands was on your hips, effortlessly lifting you up from the kitchen island and bringing you down to your knees as she reached for your shoulders and pushed you down.

"Beg a little more."

Jenna laughed, her lips curving into a grin as she watched you drool over her twitching cock, her hands reaching to grasp her length and began to stroke it up and down, grazing the tip with her thumb, clearly feeling herself without you. "Show me how much you wanna replace my hand with that mouth of yours."

The sight of Jenna pumping her shaft up and down as if your mouth deepthroating the fuck out of her cock wasn't sufficient to satisfy her needs, it was enough for you to beg almost immediately.

"Wanna whore out my mouth on your cock, Jenna." You pleaded, feeling your heart hammer in your chest as you begged for more, "Please, I need it so bad, wanna let you cum down my throat, please Jenna, pleasepleaseplease—"

You were cut off the moment you felt her fingers slip into the strands of your messy hair, pulling you close to her cock and smacked you with the wet length, smothering her pre-cum over your face. You were basically panting at this point, and you needed to stuff your face with her cock.

"Such a needy little slut," she murmured as she pressed her dick against your lips that almost drooled for her, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. "Open up for me, baby, let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours."

Jenna guided the tip of her cock against your lips, slowly letting you savor the taste of her dick before tugging onto your hair to push past your lips and inside of your warmth.

You eagerly welcomed her inside, your mouth stretching to satisfy her thick length as she pushed deeper and harder until she reached the back of your throat, feeling her cock sliding against your tongue as she filled you completely.

You moaned against her cock, feeling your eyes rolling at the back of your head, your spit going no where but drip down your chin. You wanted her out, yet you wanted her deeper, harder, faster.

Jenna's grip on your hair tightened once she began to slam your mouth onto her cock like she always does with your cunt, a relentless pace that continued in all holes that had you gagging, spitting, and whimpering with how much you're struggling to take all of her.

"S-such a pathetic little bitch in heat, oh fuck!" She moaned loudly, her eyes rolling to the back of her head while both of her hands were tangled in your hair, fucking you with fervour as you wrapped your lips so good around her dick to suck her eagerly.

Your tongue swirled around her length, your hands wrapping themselves around her dick to jack her off when the rest of her inches wasn't deep inside of you. You wanted to rest, just for a few moments if not for Jenna ruining your mouth every second.

The sting in your eyes was painful, and the way you realized you aren't used to her large size made you all the more suffer, her thick girth invading every space inside of you.

"Oh, you perfect girl." Jenna groaned, the relentless thrusts of her hands around your head to her cock and the way she was bucking her hips into your mouth made it all the more satisfying for her, "D-deepthroating your wife like a whore."

You reveled in Jenna's praise, looking up at her and giving a little fist-bump to yourself by making America's #1 IT girl become a trembling mess in your hands.

"'M gonna cum in that pretty mouth of yours," she breathed out, "and you're gonna swallow every last drop."

Jenna's thrusts into your warm mouth grew urgent, desperate, simple breaths became a challenge to her.

With a final guttural moan, she slammed your head on her cock, your nose meeting with her abdomen as she emptied herself inside of you.

Jenna's warm load flooded your mouth, closing your eyes as you tried to swallow all of her, letting her ride out her climax with your mouth accompanying every inch of her still throbbing length inside of you.

Once she relaxed, she let go of her firm grip on your hair and you pulled back, licking your lips and savoring the taste of her on your tongue. You wouldn't say it outloud, lest you wanted another delicious and pleasurable fuck with Jenna, you loved the taste of her cum in your mouth and how you looked so hot with her slick all over your face.

Jenna almost collapsed if she didn't catch herself at the last minute on the edge of the counter. Her breaths labored and heavy yet again as she basked herself in the afterglow of her orgasm.

You give her finally softening dick a chaste kiss on the tip before standing up and wrapping your hands on her waist, leaning in to place a tender kiss on her lips and another to one of the freckles that littered her pretty face. "Did I do well, baby?"

Jenna's eyes fluttered open, a lazy smile appearing on her lips with those dimples that you always adored as she looked at you, laughing at how much raspy and husky your voice was after sucking her off.

The both of you were together for almost 10 years, and you never got tired of that smile. Much more so her laughter.

"You were perfect, Y/n, as always. You know that," she replied, "Are you alright? I didn't hurt you?" She wrapped her arms around you in reciprocation and pressed a kiss to your lips. "Oh, God, I can taste myself."

You chuckled softly, "If it makes your day any better, you taste amazing, Jenna. And, yes. I'm fine. More than fine actually!" You kissed her again before pulling away from her grubby hands and bending down to retrieve your lingerie randomly thrown on a spot on the floor.

Jenna watched you with crossed arms to hide the fact that she was resisting herself and using possibly all her might to not go for another round. "You're teasing me."

You grinned as you straightened your back, holding the lingerie in your hands as you turned to face Jenna. "How'd you know?" you admitted, "it's not my fault you can't resist fucking me every second."

Jenna let out a feigned, mock shocked expression, "I'm not even like that!"

You scoffed, walking pass Jenna to get her boxers yourself, "So you're telling me when we got home to our rented beach house for our honeymoon, you decided to fuck me on every surface and continued to do so until we both passed out because...?"

Jenna's lips twitched. "Okay, well—Okay, maybe I am like that. A little bit." She stammered. "You just have that effect on me!" She replied with an exclaimed shrug, trying to look innocent but, of course, she's failing miserably.

You chuckled, "Sure, blame it on my blatant irresistible charm," you tossed her boxers in her direction, shaking your head as you put on your rather drenched undergarments.

She almost looked shy when you turn to her, complete the opposite of that dominant aura you felt around her just mere moments ago. "Did you... did you like it? The sex, I mean."

I swear, I could marry this woman all over again, you thought to yourself before approaching her and giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I wouldn't have been screaming your name all night if I didn't."

Jenna's cheeks flushed slightly at your words, her dimples appearing visible than ever, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she put on her boxers. "Oh, thank God. I would've off'd myself if otherwise."

You pressed your lips onto Jenna's, giggling as you felt a small smile form beneath you, "I bet the food on the table turned cold. And also probably swarming with flies."

"You can't bet on something that's already so obvious you're gonna win!"

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It was already noon when the two of you ate breakfast. And you were right. The food was cold. But it was fine, you can handle a cold meal if you were manhandled by a hot woman.

Ever since you and Jenna finally got married after years of dating eachother, you were living in pure bliss.

After the wedding and horribly, gutwrenching, romantic and truly poetic vows coming from Jenna that made you cry even after the ceremony, the both of you decided to go on a honeymoon trip on a much more coastal setting to take your mind off of work and her mind off of Hollywood.

But you wouldn't have predicted that Jenna would fuck you on every surface she could rail you on with the possibility of you passing out on every single one of them.

In the span of a week, Jenna came in you atleast twenty-five times and that wasn't even including the times she pulled out. You were thankful you packed a fuck ton of birth control pills anyway.

You didn't know what came over her or how did she exactly get the stamina of a rabbit fucking their mate, but you couldn't be mad. Not ever. You enjoyed every moment on how she roughly fucked you well into late night everytime the both of you went home.

Or maybe the times where she fucked you in public.

You couldn't count the number of times Jenna had teased you in public, or how her touchy hands kept exploring every inch of your body as you tried to maintain composure surrounded by countless of tourists, or maybe how many minutes—hours, even— she would spend begging for you to pack a sex toy for the both of you.

Obviously, that ended up with Jenna getting a 10-minute scolding.

But aside from sexual activities you and Jenna somehow couldn't get enough of, the both of you enjoyed time spent with each other by going on walks with the soft breeze hitting your skin, swimming around and just floating on water, boating, diving, just basically anything you could do in the Bahamas.

Now, unfortunately, the trip has to come to an end somehow.

"Our flight leaves early tomorrow, baby." You reminded her, the hot water and steam coming from the shower hitting your skin was far too relaxing.

Plus, your wife was right behind you. Massaging your scalp with a shampoo she always uses, humming a tune that the both of you loved and even used as your wedding theme. It always makes you so happy and excited whenever you have the exact scent as Jenna.

"Alright," she cooed, leaning in softly from your side and planting a kiss to your soft cheeks that you couldn't help but smile at. She always had this effect on you, and it never wore out. "I'll help you pack."

You turned to face Jenna, unknowingly having a wide smile across your face. "You don't know how much I love you, Jenna. I don't know how I will ever repay you."

It was moments like these you forget on how much Jenna actually loves you from the deepest, darkest depths of her heart. She could literally be possessed by some evil spirit, yet she would still find a way to show the light you always loved in her.

Jenna chuckled softly, dipping her hands on the water to clean them before reaching up to cup your face. "I love you too, baby. Too much." She leans in and presses a gentle and tender kiss on your soft lips.

"And, also, you can repay me by..."

"Jenna, we are not fucking in the shower. Again."

"I didn't even finish my sentence!"

"Your mind and dick think alike more than they should."

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Jenna, being Jenna, somehow got through your defenses and convinced you to have yet another quick fuck in the shower. You hate not being able to resist to those big brown, simply down-right gorgeous, doe eyes of hers—they were unfortunately and simply irresistible in your gaze.

After drying off and struggling to walk out of the shower without clutching the walls as support for your weak and shaky legs, you both went to separate rooms to tidy up and organize luggage.

Not long after, you heard the familiar voice of your sweet and lovable girlfriend wife peeking through the door, bundled up in her sweats with a blanket draped around her shoulders. "Y/n?"

"Jenna!" A smile spread across your face as you rose from your angel-sitting position, arms open wide to invite her into a warm hug, in which she immediately crashed and melted into your arms, returning the hug with equal tightness if not more.

"Are you done?" Your hand gently ran through her hair as she buried her head in the crook of your neck, offering a subtle massage to her skull. "You look cozy as ever."

You felt Jenna sigh against your skin, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "No, I just missed you," she murmured softly.

You chuckled, "We were literally just one room apart."

Jenna scoffed as she looked up at you. It was almost unbelievable this was the same woman who was ruining you moments before. "Is it a crime to miss my terribly gorgeous and incredibly talented wife?"

"If you keep looking at me like that, it might be," you teased back, leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead. "You're too adorable, baby."

"I could say the same about you, pretty girl" Jenna pulled away from the hug after giving a playful wink, settling comfortably on the king-sized bed offered by the beach house. A pile of unfolded clothes dipped to her, which she began to fold and toss in your direction.

The perfect wife, you'd say so yourself.

"…Is that my hoodie?" She paused, hesitating for a moment before tossing you a a neatly folded piece of clothing. "I was wondering where it went."

"Oh," you glanced down at the clothes you were wearing, realizing you had been wearing Jenna's hoodie without even realizing it. In your defense, it was easy to forget she had her own wardrobe when you spent so much time together. She often wears clothes bigger than her size anyways. "Yeah, I guess so," you chuckled.

"I used up all of my clothes, so I figured you wouldn't mind if I borrowed some of yours," You gestured to the garment over your hands, finding it to be one of yours, used yet it still had that faint scent of perfume.

You'd think it was all in good fun, that you were going to leave this honeymoon alive until you caught Jenna's gaze. It was unusually intense, dark, as if she was playing Wednesday Addams. "I'll return it, Jenna. Don't worry." No, you won't. There is not even a single time in your life where you actually returned her clothes.

But you knew that look all too well—it was the same one she gives you when she's about to completely bend and fuck you that'll have you seeing stars in your vision until you're practically begging and screaming for her to stop.

"Y/n," she murmured, her voice laced with desire. It didn't take long before you noticed the unmistakable bulge forming inside her sweats. "Can you come here, baby?"

You didn't think twice before approaching her, not even taking a silent moment if you should tease her or not—you knew what that would get you.

As you approached her, Jenna's hands found their way to your hips, pulling you closer until you were standing kneeling between her thighs, the cushion dipping ever so slightly as both of your bodies were pressed together.

Her hands were soft, hot, even through the fabric of her own hoodie you could feel it as they made their way underneath her your clothes. It was painful, agonizing, the warmth heat that was pooling between your thighs when you felt the bulge in her sweats pressing against yours.

"Jenna," you breathed out, hot breath that traveled inside her skin, slight laughter in your voice, "Are you seriously-"

Without a word or hesitation, she reached up and cupped your face in her free hand, drawing you mere inches away from her lips until you met her own. She was needy, desperate, like she was deprived of you.

"I'll love it when you finally decide to return my clothes." she murmured between each kiss, "But you know what I'll love more?"

"Yeah?" You whispered, hands pressed against her chest, feeling her head tilt near neck, pressing tantalizing kisses along your skin as she reached your ear.

"When you're wearing nothing but my clothes, bending over and letting me fuck you raw."

A low moan threatened to escape your lips as she painted kisses along your neck like you were a canvas for her to ruin. "Fuck," you whimpered, feeling yourself getting wetter for her, "Jenna, I—"

You were far too intoxicated, gone, like she took immediate control what your body wants as soon as you caught her length erect and free from her sweats, pumping down on her cock as she looked up at you.

"Jenna," you whined as her fingers dangerously sliding into the waistband of your own sweats, "We have an early flight tomorrow."

Her breath, warm against your skin, "I'll set an alarm, baby, don't worry." She whispered as she slowly discarded your pants along with your undergarments, searching your eyes for a slight chance of discomfort or a chance you'll pull her away.

Of course you didn't. Jenna was persuasive with her words, and amazing with her cock inside of you. How could you ever decline her?

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You woke up at 3:30.

Atleast 30 minutes before Jenna's alarm.

The room was quiet, dark, peaceful—most especially when you have a pair of soft and loving arms wrapped around you like you were a teddy bear Jenna couldn't be bothered to throw out even when she got older.

Way too in contrast than the way she fucked you well into passing out.

It took long before you were out of her cuddly grasp, hearing her soft whines as you shuffled yourself out, only to realize your legs were far too exhausted to even walk to the bathroom.

Maybe she was too good.

You looked like a mess in front of the mirror. A hot one. Every patch of skin was replaced with faint marks and hickeys all over your body, your hair disheveled, and Jenna's hoodie you were wearing was horribly stained with lines and ropes of dried cum.

Fuck, she was driving you insane.

"Y/nnnnnn...!" She groaned out for you outside of the bathroom. You turned around with your toothbrush in hand, only to see she was standing in front of the door with her body bundled up tightly in blankets.

Oh, so now she can be cute and adorable?

You couldn't help but chuckle, a faint smile leaving your lips. Jenna looked equally as disheveled, but it was unfair on how absolutely gorgeous she still looked. Still, you couldn't believe you were even someone she loved.

"C'mere, Jenna." You exclaimed, putting on toothpaste as you look at her, "Don't bring the blanket."

She all but walked towards you, crashing into your body as she kissed caught your lips in yet another kiss.

You let out a soft chuckle against her lips, grabbing a hold of the edge counter while you stumbled back as Jenna moved her body right against yours, deepening the lock she had on your lips.

She always felt tender, gentle, right in all words. Maybe peace even. Her presence was familiar as her lips were. Like a second home to you.

"I'd like to continue my routine, baby," you smiled, breaking the kiss but you kept her close, your foreheads resting against eachother.

"Mm," she hummed, closing her eyes as she made her way to your neck, kissing all the way down, "And I'd like for us to go back in bed and—"

"Jenna." You interrupted her, a stern voice you had even if you so and desperately wanted her to ruin you yet again, you gently pushed her back and kissed her on the lips. "We have a flight, remember?"

She, being the lovely Jenna Ortega you knew and loved, didn't have the heart to pull away from you. Her lips turning into the sweetest pout. "But I—!"

Unfortunately for you, you became somewhat immune to her pouts. After 10 fucking years.

"If we get there in 7, I'll let you do anything to me."

The phrase 'anything' wasn't everything to Jenna. Unless it happened to be coming from you. That's the time where she gets interested and everything in her way gets blown off the face of the earth.

"Anything?"

"I'll let you fuck me on the plane."

Before you knew it, everything was packed and the beach house was so tidy, you'd think the both of you never went on a honeymoon. Plus, the both of you arrived at 6.

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It was a few weeks after the both of you had arrived at Jenna's apartment, or much rather your apartment too.

Till that day, you will never forget how good she fucked you on that plane. Bent over with your panties stuffed in your mouth and her cock ramming into your pussy while you watched yourself get fucked from behind in the mirror.

But one thing was for certain: Thom Browne was a gift from the fucking heavens. You might have to praise and worship him everyday for granting the world Jenna Marie Ortega in Thom Browne Clothing™

It was shameful for you to admit, but it took all your willpower and resistance to not pull her by that stupid tie she has on, pull down everything from her skirt to her boxers, let her slam your cunt down on her cock and let her completely ruin you from behind. Or maybe you'd ride her until you're fucked into oblivion.

It was a crisp morning of another day Jenna in your arms like always.

Nothing changed when the both of you got married, just the way she would always introduce you to her friends as her wife. Even if they already met you like a thousand times.

She was so proud of it, you'd think she wiped off girlfriend from her vocabulary entirely and replaced it with wife.

Jenna, her body pressed against yours as she buried her head on your nape, her breaths soft and tiny on your skin, it always never fails to make you sigh internally and thank everyone and everything in the world that you were even born.

But her grip was tighter than usual. Her kisses happened almost every second, even if you weren't there with her. Everytime you were in her vicinity, she always manages to ask you if something was off or wrong about your day.

Obviously, this wasn't completely out of the ordinary. Jenna was a sweet and overall caring lover to you, but it's almost everyday.

She wasn't acting weird, but you were.

You found yourself feeling more tired than usual, your body ached of pain, and certain smells made you nauseous out of nowhere. Of course, Jenna was the exception, her scent always manages to calm you down. But without it, you'll simply spiral.

At first, you brushed it off as stress or just a normal change in your routine after the honeymoon. It definitely wasn't your period, or so you thought, since often times they come and go irregularly.

You'd think it'll be alright, that it was just a cold.

Until you start feeling nauseous, bile coming out of your throat even if you hadn't eaten anything.

Shit.

Fuck, no, no.

Please, no.

"Y/n! Y/n, oh, God, are you okay?"

Everything was falling apart, you'd think to yourself.

That was until Jenna's voice brought you back alive.

"Y/n!" She yelled in front of the doorway, her eyes look worried. Concerned, maybe even a tinge of sadness from them.

She found you huddled on the floor, clutching your stomach as a pregnancy test thrown beside you out of a fit of shock meddled with anger.

Tears streamed down your cheeks, no matter how much force you exerted to push them back up. You don't want to cry, not in front of her. It breaks your heart. But how could you if she's looking at you like that?

"Y/n?" Jenna's voice broke through the haze, kneeling down while her hands softly pulled you into her embrace as she moved your hair out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, soothingly rubbing on your back as she waited for a few seconds to talk. "It's okay, Y/n. I'm here, I'm so sorry, it's okay, I'm here with you. You're safe."

"Y/n, talk to me, please." Her voice quivered, her bottom lip shaking as she cupped your cheeks. "You've been acting strange, please tell me what's wrong, love."

You felt Jenna's touch grounding you down, leading you to peace and something alike to home.

"Jenna. Jenna, I—I'm pregnant."

Your voice cracked, tears threatening to spill over as you struggled to find the right words. It wasn't the news you dread, but Jenna's reaction.

Would she kick you out? Would she reject you? Would she tell you that she's disgusted, embarrassed? She definitely would. You'd think to yourself.

You expect her to yell at you, leave you in a devastating state, that she'd divorce you and you were never even allowed to show your face to hers ever again. Fear and doubt crept into your mind more than it should've. Jenna loved you, more than anything else, more than herself. Would she love you now?

"....What?" Her hand fell from you, her mouth hung open. Was she devastated? Mad? Joyful? Angry? Happy?

"I—I'm so sorry, Jenna." You cried. You cried to her, you couldn't even show your face yet you cried—weeped to her. "I must've skipped a pill, or I—I just forgot to take one. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—I didn't mean for this to happen, I—" Your explanation felt meaningless, the words tumbling out of your mouth in a desperate attempt to fill the void of silence Jenna gave you.

The bathroom felt colder, emptier.

But there was always light in the darkness you've pushed yourself in. You're lucky enough for your light to be someone you loved.

Jenna's arms were wrapped around you in a mere second, like she only now processed the information, pulling you into a tight hug. Her touch was warm, light, happiness, comfort, everything. Like you fell in love once again.

"We're pregnant…" She whispered into your ear, you can feel a smile forming in your lips. But that was hard to believe.

It was surreal, almost unbelievable when you first saw the results. You were worried about her reaction, but hearing Jenna say it filled you with nothing but happiness and excitement. You leaned back slightly to look into her eyes, seeing the joy you hoped to see reflected in her gaze, but much happier.

"Holy shit, you're pregnant!" She exclaimed, a wide smile—dimples and all—appeared from her face. She was joy in of itself, her smile brightening as the corners of her lips looked so satisfying to kiss.

"Wha...?" You opened your eyes, only to see one of the prettiest ones gazing at you as if you gave her life. "You're.... you're not mad?"

Jenna's smile only widened at your question. You'd think devotion couldn't get any higher, but Jenna always succeeds in tearing down your expectations and happens to build new ones.

"Mad? Why would I be mad, baby?" she said softly, "I mean, sure, it's a bit unexpected, but…" She paused, reaching out to gently brush a stray hair away from your face as well as a tear that escaped your eyes. "I couldn't be happier. I'm sorry if I gave you the impression I was going to be."

God, you loved this woman. Is second marriage possible?

"Oh, my God, this is the best day of my life! Well, apart from our wedding day, of course. Wait, am I gonna be a mom? Holy shit I'm gonna be a mother, you're gonna be a mother! Oh, I'm so going to introduce her—or him— to our favorite movies! Well, maybe not in their baby life, but later! Oh right, What should our childs name be? I was thinking of a mix of ours, maybe—"

You couldn't help but laugh through the tears, and how absurd it was how Jenna was already planning a future for your child with her on the bathroom floor. Her energy was infections and those people all over the internet saying that she's just like her character Wednesday, or she has no soul.

They're dead wrong. She's like peace that comes with conflict, she's every living poets dream.

"Jenna, slow down for a bit," you chuckled. "You're getting ahead of yourself."

But you couldn't deny that you were just as thrilled as she was. "You'll be amazing as a mother, I'm sure of it."

Jenna nodded, "I'll keep you and the little one safe. Dating me—let alone letting the whole world know we're married—it'll be a handful." She took your hand, kissed every individual knuckle there is, as if she was promising an oath she'd take to her afterlife.

"I love you, y/n. So much. Shit, I can't believe we're gonna have a child!"

You laughed. "Same here, baby. I love you too, Jenna."

Maybe you did enjoy this so-called honeymoon phase.

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J: hey, y/n, is it weird i wanna fuck another one into you? Y: if you say it like that, it is.

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a/n: i loved writing this request but im not so exactly proud of how i worded it. idk, lmk what yall think! this was originally going to be 10k+ words because of the countless amounts of sex scenes i added, but i thought that was too much. + kinda amazing how i could switch from writing the fluffiest shit there is to straight up porn on paper. (partially dedicate for u babes xx @ajortga ill post more sub!r in the future)

PLEASE 🙏 ONE CHANCE

Pretty 🫳

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐎𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐚 𝐡𝐜𝐬

pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem!Reader

wc: 2,2k

warnings: long, rambly, and self-indulgent 🫶 no actual ending to wrap this up, will just come back to this when I get new ideas to add.

Jenna is spoiled rotten, and it is no one else's fault than yours. She wants your touch, warmth, kisses, and attention—and she knows she will always get them.

Jenna tries not to be so needy (not really), but now that you’re hers to claim, she can’t help but want to be in your bubble constantly. That girl would live in your skin if she could.

Jenna is highly affectionate. Not only is she hungry for your affection, but she also freely gives you hers. You name it: hugs, kisses, cuddles, bites, licks (she is particularly fond of licking your face and biting you wherever she can reach, for some reason). If it means she will touch you somehow, she will do it.

Velcro girlfriend, in other words.

If Jenna lies somewhere, she calls you over to lie on her. Your weight is like a heated blanket; she loves playing with your hair and caressing your face as you drift to sleep on her chest or soft tummy. It’s a good way to bond when she's reviewing a script or reading a book.

She has a habit of coming up behind you and nuzzling into your back, prompting you to turn and scoop her into your arms. 

Height difference is a huge plus! Jenna loves to be smothered by you when you hold her, to drown in your fragrance and melt into the safety of your embrace.

She is very touchy. Not only affectionate-touchy but “will grope you as she passes by you with no particular purpose than to make you squirm” touchy.

She loves to play with your hands. No reason; she loves how your hand envelopes hers and your fingers fit together like puzzle pieces. 

Not a napper, or rather, was not a napper until she discovered paradise in your arms. Now, being held by you triggers an instant rush of oxytocin and melatonin that, coupled with the thump of your heartbeat and your warmth, knocks her out within minutes.

Jenna is kind of a baby when sick, but it's your fault. She wasn't like that until you came in and started babying her. She used to be independent and treat her illnesses in a very mechanical and detached way because it was nothing more than a setback from work. Now, she can't imagine having a cold and spending her quarantine without your tender touches. 

Same thing when she’s PMSing. The more time you spend caring for her, the better quicker she feels.

Jenna has an insane staring problem—always has and always will. She can’t help but stare at you like you hung up all the stars in the sky; she’s so lucky she has you. Her adoration is ever present in her eyes. It’s one of the reasons it’s so tricky for her to have you around when she’s supposed to be focused. She looks too giddy and happy to hide. 

Don’t get her started on your smell—she’s one of those freaky women who inhales you any chance she gets. She loves the way you smell so much. It’s like her entire nervous system instantly relaxes whenever she catches a whiff of you.

Jenna is not huge on stereotypical nicknames. She prefers to have a few significant ones for each other that you probably come up with after an important experience or memory. Hell, she even takes inspiration from her favourite songs. However, she is partial to how “Angel” rolls off your tongue, and she will occasionally slip up with a “Babe” now and again.

Jenna lives in your clothes. The majority of your wardrobe is with her at all times. You might wonder where your favourite hoodie is just to get a photo of her lounging in it five minutes later.

Jenna is a certified yapper with you. She naturally is, but most people don’t get this version of her because she doesn’t feel uncomfortable being herself around them. You are more than happy to hear her speak her mind about any topic she can think of, finding peace in how her eyes light up and excitement laces her voice when she realises she has your undivided attention. 

This woman will babble about the randomest topics, even as she drifts to sleep. It’s incredibly endearing, and she never fails to make you laugh with the strange things that endlessly pop into her pretty little head. She doesn’t even need to try to be funny most of the time; she just is.

Jenna is very supportive of you and your goals. Ideally, she wants you to travel the world with her, which is doable if you study through an online program or work a remote job.

If, due to your goals, you don’t have the availability to go with Jenna for long periods and you’re mainly doing long-distance, things get a bit more complicated. Still, Jenna is 100% invested as long as you are. 

She is a terrible texter, BUT she does try for you! You can't say she doesn't. The problem is that she doesn’t typically send text messages. Instead, you receive a constant stream of photos updating you on what she’s doing, where she is, who she’s with, what she’s eating, what she’s wearing, what she’s not wearing, etc, with no follow-up. Most of the time, she sends them in faster succession than you can keep up with.

The second common way of communication between you is FaceTime. It’s simply more convenient than texting, given her lifestyle. AND she needs to see you constantly for mental health reasons. 

When she does text, Jenna makes your heart swoon. She might not be the best at sending you a “Good Morning” text every day at the crack of dawn (those timezone differences have her fucked up). Still, she never misses an opportunity to show you how much she loves and thinks of you. Sometimes, her messages are a little poem she came up with while thinking of you or a song and some lyrics she heard that remind her of you with no explanation other than “this is you <3”.

She often sends you voice notes and videos to make you smile. Hearing her lovely voice and seeing her angelic face is always a delightful surprise.

This woman is incredibly cheeky. She loves to flirt with and tease you. Sometimes, she does it to get a laugh out of you, and other times, she does it to get a rise out of you. (She gets a big head about eliciting your reaction every single time without fail.)

Jenna is not a great cook, although she grew up with delicious homemade meals. The main reason is that she simply doesn't have the time to hone her skills in the kitchen. Lord knows she tries, though! She expectantly stares at you with those sweet doe eyes and hesitant smile, and you never have the heart to shoot down her efforts. 

Despite Jenna’s chatty nature, one of the things she deeply appreciates about you and your relationship is that she takes repose in your silence. She can talk until she tires but knows that she can also exist near you quietly when she needs to without you expecting her to fill in the silence out of discomfort. Her tranquillity with you is unlike anything she’s ever felt. She cherishes those moments as much as any other because your silence is just as precious.

You are the subject of lots of photos! Jenna photographs what she loves, so roughly 30% of her storage is photos of you, while another 30% accounts for photos you’re in, like couple selfies and other lovey-dovey stuff. (The rest has been quickly overtaken by Fig.)

Jenna loves driving, but she also loves being your passenger princess because it’s peaceful sitting beside you, your thumb rubbing small circles over her thigh or her hand clasped in yours with the hum of the car lulling her into a nap. 

She loves taking baths together. To melt into your body and forget the pressures of the day. 

Date nights are random and spontaneous. Jenna’s schedule is too erratic most of the time for you to nail something down permanently. Regardless, they are enjoyable, a great time to bond and let the world disappear. You both love to explore new cities and get lost together. It’s an excellent way to discover new hang-out spots and restaurants, but you also have homebody moments. Sometimes, all you really need is to be in your bubble, sharing a warm meal, wine, and ice cream. Either way, you always laugh and make out wherever you are. 

Movie nights CONSTANTLY. If they’re not your thing, then they’re simply something you do to indulge Jenna, which becomes a bonding ritual you relish.

Jenna worries about you when you’re apart from each other. She likes to be updated when you have important things going on to avoid overthinking and getting anxious for you.

You’re her madness and peace all wrapped into one, and Jenna is not shy about showing you her true colours; you get all of her, and she expects to get all of you. 

Jenna is not a morning person. If she has a day free, she expects to enjoy being able to sleep in; otherwise, she wakes up cranky and glaring at everything and everyone. Nothing a long cuddle and some well-placed kisses can’t fix. Even when she wakes up for work, she stays quiet. It takes her a while to fully wake up, but by the time she gets to work, she’s usually her bubbly self again. 

She’s not a big spender on herself. She is not interested in things but loves spending money on you. 

Jenna low-key tries to impress you, not with her acting, because she dislikes you seeing her act, but with her outfits. You’ve never gone to her fittings because she loves to get your first reaction the day of.

She loves to make you laugh, and it's very easy for her because she's odd. She is absolutely delightful, though, and her unique sense of humour has always been one of the things you most adore about her. 

She loves celebrating you in any way she can, but she prefers to do it privately and intimately. Birthdays, holidays, Valentine’s Day, National Girlfriend Day, she never forgets those dates, and she takes pride in showing you her appreciation for you. She also loves to be on the receiving end of your celebratory plans for her. You go all out and have never let her down. (Things might be becoming a bit competitive, though.)

Jenna makes you endless playlists for all sorts of events and moods, but she gets emotional when you do the same for her. It makes her feel vulnerable in the best way that you know her as well as you do.

When she’s upset, she’s not a huge talker. The main thing she needs is your physical comfort, to know that you’ll hold her and let her soften into you, and she can lose herself in your embrace because you’ll shield her from the world. She does open up eventually when she feels more regulated, but normally, she stays in your lap while you discuss her issues. 

People know you’re dating. It’s easy to hide if you’re doing the long-distance thing because no one but her sees you, but when you start travelling with her, Jenna can’t hide how happy it makes her to have you around. You blend in easily with her crew, but a few detectives start putting 2+2 together and scrutinize you until she slips up. Which she does. It might be much later than expected, but it still surprises people. 

Jenna is not huge on PDA because she doesn’t like sharing your thing with everyone, but that doesn’t mean that she’s good at avoiding it. She prefers to keep you and your relationship out of the spotlight because you’re precious to her, and she values your wish to keep your relationship private, but sometimes, she can’t help herself. The few photos circulating the internet where you’re holding hands or kissing are all due to the fact that she couldn’t keep her hands to herself for long enough to avoid it. 

When Jenna gets anxious, she needs you. It doesn't happen often, but it does. A hug, a handhold, just you. It’s not that she expects you to automatically “fix” her; she would never burden you with that responsibility. It’s just that your presence truly is that comforting. Being around you gives her the strength to regulate herself, especially when you’re being closed in by paps or invasive fans. That foreboding feeling that triggers her to be in survival mode feels less menacing and overwhelming when you squeeze her hand or shield her from prying eyes. 

Jenna is not a jealous person, but she does get jealous. She trusts you wholly and knows you would never intentionally make her jealous or disrespect her. Still, other people don’t value your relationship the same way. More often than she’d like, Jenna has had to deal with people who are so drawn to you that they’ll openly flirt with you in front of her. She begrudgingly has to admit to herself that she can’t blame people too much, though—you are remarkable and magnetic and so breathtakingly gorgeous. She understands why people want your attention so much, but damn if it doesn’t make her blood boil.

She is very playful and such a tease, but she cannot take what she dishes out for the life of her. As soon as you give her a taste of her medicine, she simply... shuts down and stares.

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @freakshow2501

Opposites Attract

Astrid Deetz x Fem!Reader

Summary- You had been a psychic ever since you were a child, but recently you had been overwhelmed by how many spirits were contacting you, giving you no time to yourself anymore. Seeking out Lydia Deetz, you go to her home for advice.

Requested by @perfectartisanwerewolf

Warnings- Ghosts, probably some timeline issues, morbid facts, talking about the afterlife, more of my ghost facts (Tell me when you're getting sick of them)

When you met the Deetz family, it was several years after the whole "Ghost House" incident. They had always been kind to you and your family.

The ghosts in Winter River were more plentiful than most people knew. It happened to be a very quiet and uneventful town, but your life never had a dull moment here. You were constantly sought out after Lydia had moved. Now the deceased flocked to you for guidance.

Apparently, they described your psychic abilities as "A shining light in the never-ending darkness". Which would be flattering if they hadn't always been around you for every second of your day. Some spirits followed you to the grocery store, to school, and even sat at your desk while you were sleeping, waiting for you to awaken.

You wanted to help them; you really did. It was just that the only privacy you got now a days was when you excused yourself to use the facilities.

Recently there had been a death in the Deetz family, so Lydia had returned to town with her daughter to attend the funeral and help her stepmother, Deelia. It was like a saving grace to have someone else help with the spirits around the place.

Walking up the giant hill to their home with a stack of books in your hand was proving difficult, but you needed Lydia's help desperately. You waited patiently after knocking on their door, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Lydia welcomed you into their home with a smile. After making your way to the couch and placing your books on the table, you took a quick look around the room. There were still many of Deelia's sculptures, most of them unsettling to say the very least.

Your attention shifted back to Lydia as she sat across from you. Talking about ghosts with anyone else might have been awkward, but not with her. She was almost like a second mother to you.

Even now as you sat in the house, you could sense spirits lingering just outside your line of sight.

"I agree, it can be overwhelming, you just need to learn how to set boundaries with them." She explained simply and you nodded.

"I thought I did, but I guess I could try and be sterner with them?"

Her smile grew and you both turned as you heard footsteps descending the staircase. Astrid was in the middle of putting on her sweater to leave the house when she stopped and stared at you, as if in a trance. You smiled and offered her a small wave, trying to be polite.

Your smile awakened something in Astrid. Like a light at the end of a tunnel. A breath of fresh air, or a missing puzzle piece to finally complete a part of herself that had been missing for years. The world faded as all she could focus on was you. She snapped out of it with a cough, finally making her way to stand in the living room with you both.

Lydia introduced you and in turn introduced her daughter, Astrid. It took a moment for her to regain her composure before she muttered an almost completely quiet "Hi."

On the inside, her heart pounded against her chest, but she fought to remain uninterested in anything that involved her mother. Especially now that it seemed like a complete stranger could easily occupy her mother's attention without even trying. It was frustrating.

It was an odd experience, how you made her heart pound. She wasn't sure if it was from jealousy or something more, so she opted to ignore it and continue her journey out the door.

A frown grazed your lips, confused by her behavior before you shifted back to continue your conversation from before. Lydia spoke up first. "Astrid can't see ghosts like we can. The living ignore the strange and unusual."

That didn't seem to brighten up your mood even in the slightest.

"You're saying Mrs. bright eyes can also supposedly see ghosts? Great, here I thought she seemed normal. Is there anyone normal in this town?" Astrid scrunched her nose and picked at her food as she sat at the kitchen table.

"Whatever makes us more money, maybe she could be on your show Lydia!" Deelia smiled as she continued eating, only half paying attention to their conversation.

"Maybe you would be more interested if you talked to her about it, Astrid. It could be good for you to have some friends in this town." Lydia suggested, trying to stray away from yet another argument with her daughter.

"Ghosts are everywhere, you may even see one without even realizing it. Have you ever seen someone walking on the side of the street, but when you look back they're gone?" You smiled; your books open in front of you as you spoke enthusiastically to Astrid.

You sat in her room, a stark contrast from your own. While you liked the paranormal and macabre, her room seemed more... gloomy.

Did you know how much light you radiated? Or the shimmer that appeared in your gorgeous eyes whenever you spoke about this mumbo jumbo? Astrid didn't care for spirits or the paranormal. She believed it was all fake, but the way you spoke to her and the way you looked, she swore she would follow you anywhere.

She simply nodded, trying to snap out of that trance you put her in. Sometimes she believed you must've been a witch instead of a psychic, because how had you possibly gained so much power over her cold heart?

"Are there any here now? You know, ghosts?" her eyebrow raised curiously, just thinking of an excuse for you to speak more.

"I know there is one here, but I haven't been able to place it. It's a male energy."

"Do you use candles or sprinkle some paprika on stuff for rituals?"

Her enthusiasm was great, if not a bit misplaced and incorrect. Your smile widened as you laughed, a freeing sound.

"I've been talking forever, how about you tell me something you're interested in? I know you don't care about this stuff"

Astrid froze, fearing that you caught her. She cleared her throat and blushed softly, looking away as she wracked her brain for anything interesting to say. "Did you know that Mount Everest has a certain area called 'Rainbow Valley' because of all the multicolored jackets and climbing gear that's still attached to the mummified corpses of those who failed to get to the top and froze to death?"

Your head tilted and silence loomed between you both before she spoke again.

"A cult leader named Jim Jones poisoned 918 people by forcing them to drink Kool-Aid mixed with cyanide, chloral hydrate, valium and Phenergan. It was considered one of the largest intentional losses of life since 9/11." She continued talking, trying her best to fill the silence.

Your giggles made her stop digging a deeper hole for herself. You looked amused and not terrified in the least. "Why Kool-Aid?"

"Probably because it was the cheapest" Astrid smiled wide at you, happy that you didn't see her as some sort of creep.

The next morning, Astrid was determined to gain more information about spirits, wanting another chance to spend time with you. She even went as far as to ask her mother for help, which she would deny until the end of her days.

Surprisingly, it wasn't as painful as she thought it would be. It was actually nice to have a common interest. Or so Lydia thought at least. Meanwhile she was interested in you, and not in fact her mother's psychic abilities.

By the time you showed up at her house, she opened the door to you and smiled softly, gesturing for you to come inside. She soon regretted that action as if you would think she was a dork for gesturing like a ringleader in some cheesy circus movie.

You didn't seem to notice her inner turmoil, simply enjoying the fact that she invited you back, saying she had something to share with you.

Sitting on her bed with your legs crossed, you leaned your head in your hand as you gave her your full attention. Everything you did seemed to light a spark in her chest.

"I learned some stuff about ghosts and wanted to run it by you. Maybe I could add it in with my history facts" Astrid spoke with a little more enthusiasm, as if excited to share with you.

She took a deep breath as she tried remembering all of the things her mother had previously told her. "Is it true that there are different types of ghosts? And that they're not all humans?"

You nod your head and sit up a little straighter. "Yes. There are many different classifications of ghosts, including non-human ghosts that never had a soul. Those may include poltergeists, which are simply manifestations of negative energy in a certain space. Thats why you can't communicate intelligently with a poltergeist, because they have no soul or sense of being. They're just energy."

That actually caught her attention, maybe the paranormal wasn't as fake as she thought it was. How could someone possibly come up with a lie that detailed in such a short amount of time? She sat beside you and resisted the urge to kiss you right there and then. Never in her life has she been attracted to someone simply because of their interests and passion when speaking about them.

"Will you go uh... ghost hunting with me at Dracula's castle this summer? I was planning on going there alone after... after my dad passed away. But I'd like you there."

You smiled brightly and wrapped your arms around her shoulders, hugging her tightly. "I would love to"

Bonus:

Lydia stood a careful distance away from Astrid's bedroom door. She wanted to give her daughter some privacy, but she was overjoyed to see the smile return to Astrid's face. The one that had been lost since her father.

She argued that it was to see what about you made her so happy. As she leaned in closer, she heard a gruff voice behind her, making her jump.

"Thats our daughter alright" He spoke, munching on a bucket of popcorn. He leaned against the wall smugly, watching Lydia with a smirk.

Her smile vanished as she stared him down. "Beetl-" She began to utter before he waved his hand dismissively.

"Alright, alright. Your Kid" He huffed out an annoyed sigh before vanishing.

A/N- I finally finished writing this one and I hope that it's to your liking! I tried my best. Usually, I base the reader off of myself to make writing it easier but I tried to switch it up a bit this time.

Thank you all for your patience with me writing this, and I'm sorry for the delay.

Please send in more requests! Next I will be working on a lost boys fic and the second part to the tom riddle series

Credits-

Book Divider- @firefly-graphics

Green swirl divider- @anitalenia

---

Taglist: @mirage018

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?"

happy gay month cuz yk u gay n stuff 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️