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Trinity: it's called "Huckleberry or Husband". We'll give you an actual quote we've heard Robby say, and you'll have to guess if he was talking to Whitaker or Abbot.
can you write about Finn helping the reader come for first time cause men in her past havenât been able to
⚠࣪ Ë make u cum (18+) â finn wolfhard
summary: no one's ever been able to get you off before but yourself. even then, it's hard. when you accidentally admit that to finn while watching a movie, he's more than sure that he can change that, if you'll have him. (fem!afab!reader)
"What'd you say?" Your boyfriend, Finn, reiterated, turning to face you on the couch with an arm extended over your shoulder.
"...Nobody I've been with has ever made me, wellâcum. I don't know why. I don't think it's me. I think it's just harder for me to." You shrug it off, glancing back to the TV screen in front of you like your face wasn't burning up from embarrassment.
You didn't expect the conversation to come up. But naturally, while watching a shitty movie where the girl had faked the most obvious orgasm, you just snorted and pointed it out to him. He joked, asking how you'd know, and that's what lead you here. An instinctive scoff and a roll of your eyes.
"God, no, it's not you. That's normal, probably, for it to take more work for some people. I'd think." He scoffs and shakes his head with furrowed brows, looking appalled, "and no guy ever, I don't know, put in a little more effort when you didn'tâ?"
"Sometimes they'd try. Not well. But they'd try."
"Did they actually?" He presses before joking, "or was it them going down on you for, what, five minutes and probably totally missing your clit?"
A bit sheepish at the pure accuracy, you go to speak but nothing comes out. Giving a small shrug, just like earlier, Finn's brows raise in amusement. Like he can't believe all of this.
"You deserve better. You know that, right?" He rests a gentle hand over your thigh. It doesn't feel so chaste given the current topic at hand, breath hitching in your throat.
Nodding back, you let your eyes meet his again. He's been watching you keenly this entire time, every twitch of your lips and breath you take like he's pocketing the information for later.
"C'mon, I mean it. You don't believe me?" He lightly jokes, trying to ease the heavy tension building between the two of you. His once cozy living room now turned heated and suffocating.
Studying your features, gaze dropping from your parted lips to your curious eyes, he sighs.
"I'm your boyfriend. It's kind of part of the job that I make you happy, isn't it?" He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. When he pulls away, you two are still closer than you have been all evening.
"...Can I try?" He whispers under his breath, ghosted against your own lips.
You blink hard, swallowing thickly. It's as if your whole body doubled in weight at the thought, feeling heavy and, quite frankly, dizzy.
"You want to?" The words come out more dazed than you'd hoped, "we haven't done anything like that before."
"I won't even take my jacket off." He raises both hands in defense, smiling softly, "I'm not saying we need to have sex right here, right now. God, no. I have two hands and a mouth for a reason, y'know? Okay, that sounds stupid, butâ"
"But I don't want you to think of sex and... And be scared that your body is the problem." He expresses, "because it isn't. I guarantee it. And sex isn't always about reaching an orgasm, either, y'know? It's just about feeling good."
"...You're rambling again." You let out a soft laugh, hand resting on top of where his find purchase on your thigh. He lets out a matching, soft exhale.
After some thought, you agree with a murmur, "just don't be disappointed if I don't cum, okay?"
Eyebrows raising in surprise at your agreement, Finn eagerly nods in understanding. His forehead accidentally bumps against yours from the closeness and all you two can do is breathe out laughs against each others lips.
That's what you needed, you think. A reminder of how unserious and fun intimacy could be when you removed all expectations of perfection.
Finn, careful to take it slow, leaves a tantalizing kiss to your lips. It lingers and crowds all of your senses, sending shivers down your spine and heat throughout your core. All from one kiss.
"...Bedroom?" You ask, hesitantly, unsure of when to propose the change of scenery.
He nods almost immediately, honoring your wish. He rises from his place on the couch and, when you follow, he's resting a hand on the small of your back as you two walk down the hall together. A small reminder that he's right there.
When you two make it to his room, dimly lit and a mess from sleeping in the bed earlier and never getting to making it, you move to lie with your head against the pillow, nerves running rampant. Finn waits, letting you take your spot. Then, the bed dips when he joins and places himself right on top of you. Hovering, watching.
Kissing the corner of your lips, he helps you to loosen up with slow touches. His kisses run lower, from your jaw to your neck, as he finds purchase on your bare collarbone. Sucking and licking and making his presence known.
"Do you wanna keep this on?" Finn runs his fingertips over the hem of your shirt. With the shake of your head, he's helping you sit up and slip it off in no time. Then, your bra with it, his nimble fingers making quick work of the metal clasp.
"God, you are so fucking pretty." He curses easily, shaking his head in awe. "I could look at you forever. Can I?"
Huffing out a small laugh, you rest a hand in his hair as he litters your bare chest in warm, wet kisses. The hot of his tongue against the cold of your skin is electrifying, thighs pressing together with need. Nobody took their time like this, tracing your body with theirs and treating it like a temple to be worshipped and sanctified.
His hands join him in his efforts, one of his hands tweaking at your nipple as his mouth cares for the other. Attentive as always. The swirl of his tongue and twists of his fingers have you sighing with relief just to be touched by him.
With every touch, he makes sure you know what's going through his mind.
"Wanna kiss you like this everywhere. Everyday."
"Can't believe my girlfriend is letting me touch her like this. Can't believe I'm this lucky."
"Could cum just from kissing you, I think."
That last one is a joke. You think. You also know better than to doubt him, though.
Kissing down your exposed stomach, hands cupping your waist like it's something to be protected, Finn makes it to your waistband and looks up with wide, wanting eyes.
"You want these on or off?" He asks, giving you the option. "You can change your mind later, too."
Nodding back, you murmur and lift your hips, "off."
Complying with ease, he strips you of your pants but leaves you in your undergarments. He's easing you into it. You don't feel rushed and maybe that's part of why you have so much hope for this. There's no sense of urgency to your pleasure. He's exploring, admiring, and loving you.
"Still all good?" He asks, looking up at you from where he lie between your thighs. Scooted down, his hands are on your thighs keeping them apart as his breath ghosts your underwear and all you can do is fight not to beg for more.
You remind yourself of his words, echoing in your mind from earlier: "Sex isn't always about reaching an orgasm. It's just about feeling good."
"...Perfect." You sigh back, fingers tangling in his dark curls, messy and imperfect and alluring. The soft smile you give him is more permission than anything.
Then, he continues, "I'm gonna use my fingers first. Just gonna keep these on, feel for what you like, let you get used to it. And when you're ready, I'll take these off and use what I learned to make you feel even better. How does that sound?"
Laying out everything he's gonna do, letting you in on his thought process. It's reassuring. He must realize that as your body relaxes against the bed.
"And your mouth?" You ask, nodding.
Smiling sheepishly, he nods too, "and my mouth."
Giving him the go ahead, the pads of his fingers slowly run over the damp fabric to gauge where you're most sensitive. Trailing higher, his index fingers presses against your clit, making your hips twitch upward for more. He smiles, watching your breath catch in your throat as you stare down at him in utter awe.
He's reading you like a book he never wants to put down.
"...There." You murmur and nod, "right there." He nods back in understanding, slowly circling the clothed spot and watching your body slowly react.
It doesn't hit immediately, and he thinks that must be part of why nobody took your body seriously. You don't writhe and thrash from the littlest of touches. It builds up, takes time, and he can only imagine how intense the crash of the waves will be when given the proper attention.
"Does this feel better than if I were to, uh, finger you, do you think?" He asks, genuinely curious.
"...It feels better, yeah." You say after some thought, focusing on the friction that comes with the fabric of your underwear grinding against your clit over and over. "That's all I do when I do it myself. It always takes a while, though."
You almost find it in you to apologize for not reacting more intensely. Dramatized, over the top, outright fake. But you don't. He makes you feel like you don't have to be sorry.
"Yeah, that's fine." He says earnestly, like it's the most normal thing he's ever heard.
Head dipping lower, his tongue flicks over the same spot his finger circled. Your core thighs tense. It's small, but he catches it and continues.
"Can I take these off?" He asks abruptly. When he sees the surprise in your expression, he adds, jokingly, "I've gotten enough data. Wanna try now."
Snorting at the ridiculousness of his words, you lift your hips begrudgingly and let him expose the rest of you to him. It's new and vulnerable, but you trust him more than anyone else you've been splayed out like this for. It's exciting, if anything.
Finn almost moans at the sight, caught somewhere low in his throat as he stifles it. His index and middle fingers run through your slit before ghosting your entrance. You don't react super strongly, just leaning into his touches.
"I swear..." He huffs out a small laugh, like he's in disbelief, "you're something else. Justâcompletely. I've never seen someone so..."
"Nervous?" You snort, interjecting.
"Beautiful." He says, the word heavy and intentional. It makes your pussy flutter around nothing, to which he bites his lower lip.
"You like that? When I call you beautiful?" He asks, thumb circling your clit slowly. "Because you are. You're the prettiest. Your whole damn body. Especially right here." Without the fabric, every feeling is heightened now, and you clench around nothing again from his praise alone.
Humming in agreement, you tug at his hair weakly. He huffs out a soft breath before looking up at you.
With soft, loving eyes that stay on yours, he leans down to wrap his lips around your clit. If that isn't enough, he suckles on the nerves and laves his tongue over it. The contrast of nothingness compared to everything at once has you reeling, hips lifting immediately to try and feel more. He lets you, never pushing them down or forcing them apart. His focus is steady on making you get to that peak you so deserve.
"F-Finnâ" You gasp out loud, louder than you've ever heard yourself during such an intimate moment, "'s so good, just like that..."
When he shifts, you feel something you hadn't before. The brush of his chin, his facial hair, against your thighs and bare pussy. It's rough, almost tickling your skin, but for some reason, it adds to the euphoria you're feeling right now.
When he pulls away momentarily, you can see the wet spot that glistens in his facial hair. A whine rumbles low in your throat at the erotic sight. He just laughs, wiping it off with the back of his hand.
"Um, can I eat you out?" He asks, almost feeling awkward by his own vulgar wording. But parting your thighs further, you eagerly welcome it.
He shifts lower on the bed, kissing the flesh of your navel on the way as he kisses down from your clit to your entrance. Every kiss feels like a punch with how intense his touch makes you feel.
Finally, the feel of his tongue against your entrance floods your senses. Slipping past that, he buries his tongue inside of you, making your back arch into a pretty curve for the first time that night. Gripping at his hair, you shut your eyes tight to try and maintain some semblance of control.
Not only that, but his curved, aquiline nose digs into your clit and all you wanna do is grind against it until you finally cum all over his tongue and chin.
Which, for once, doesn't seem so far away.
Your hips maneuver to match his pace, effectively riding his face even from below him. It makes him moan, the vibrations satiating a part of you that you hadn't realized went unsatisfied. You're whimpering loudly when he hums lowly to try and recreate the feeling, nearly overwhelmed.
"F-fuck, I thinkâ" you speak before you even know what you're saying, "think 'm gonna cumâ"
Humming, not daring to lift his head, Finn looks up at you in understanding. His eyes meet yours and, for the first time, you feel seen like this.
The only thing he changes is adding his thumb to your clit to control your pleasure more. His nose isn't stimulating enough, he thinks. Not when he's taking everything he can get from you.
Then, only for a second, he breathlessly mutters, "you gonna cum all over my face? Prove those assholes wrong? Come on, do it. I've got you."
The only thing more powerful than his mouth and hands are his words.
Thighs clenching and core tensing, your fingers grasp at his scalp desperately with pure, unadulterated pleasure. You can only describe it as physical relief.
Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, body unsure of whether to tense or relax and doing both in tandem with one another. Your mind is cloudy but your hips never stop riding his face throughout the high. He never stops, either. Tongue fucking in and out of you, thumb pressing down and circling your clit intentlyâit's almost overstimulating. For you, it's the perfect amount.
Head tilted back in pleasure, you let out quiet, choked out moans and sobs that would worry the man below you if it weren't for your cum coating his tongue in the same breath.
When it all subsides moments later, you feel like you'd done hard, manual labor. When the hell did orgasms feel this draining?
Finn is, otherwise, entranced. Staring up at you, watching your body recover from the crash, soothing you as he rubs up and down your thighs and hips from below.
"...Not that it's a competition, but I definitely won." He laughs, making you playfully hit his shoulder before slumping against the bed completely.
"You won when you got with me in the first place."
"Damn right." He snickers and smiles, pressing a kiss to your navel before resting his head against your stomach.
"...You're doing that for me again once I manage to breathe normally. Which might be a while. But just be prepared." You tease, absolutely lovesick as you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm.
"I know you're joking, but I literally will." He raises his eyebrows, smiling up at you as you ruffle his hair.
"Who said I was joking?"
a/n â yes the title is an ayesha erotica song. no i don't rly listen to her. yes it's all i could think abt when i was writing this <3 hope this is all u wanted and more. more finn smut incoming!!!! need that baddddd omfg
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
It comes out of his mouth like a defense, even if he didnât mean it that way. You heard it in his tone; that same self-doubt and confusion that had surfaced when you first started expressing feelings for each other beyond friendship.
You turn to him, face etched in double the amount of confusion, but just as quickly as your brows furrowed, your expression melted.
It was only a matter of time before reassurance became a necessity in this relationship. And you didnât mind it one bit.
If you had to tell Miguel enough times to count the stars in the sky, then you would. Because you knew heâd do the same for you.
You take a moment to look at him, lounging back on the other side of the couch. His body looks slack against the fluffy cushions, with the exception of his head which is turned to you. The fireplace illuminates one side of his face, further accentuating his already sharp features. You adored the way his feet hung off the recliner just slightly. You tell him to get a couch big enough for him already, but you knew his stubborn nature all too well. He liked how perfectly soft yet hard this one was. The man knew what he liked and he stuck to it.
He doesnât look sad or worried but⌠focused. Itâs a question that floats in his mind far more than heâd like to admit, but never really found the right time to ask. Heâs not fishing for anything, itâs simply curiosity, nothing more (besides the tiny, lingering belief that maybe you deserved better, but when does that not cross someoneâs mind?).
You think for a moment, but you know the answer. Youâve known the answer the moment you two became friends. If you had enough energy to speak all night, you would, but considering the already late hour, you knew youâd grow too tired and fall asleep anyway. This would have to be sweet and to the point. Plus, Miguel wouldnât even begin to know how to take a compliment of that size anyways. At least not yet. Baby steps.
âMiguel,â you took a breath, lips curling in a distant smile. You look to the fire, as if all memories of you two played out in the flames.
âI see you in every cup of coffee I pass by, especially if itâs black,â you huff out your nose. Miguel is intrigued by this⌠rather hooking intro of an answer, but is nonetheless zeroed in, full attention on you,
âI see you in every sunny day, whipping out those sunglasses since youâre sensitive,
I see you in each book I read, thinking youâd enjoy it, too
I see you in each bite I take at a restaurant, knowing youâd have made it better at home,
I see your tapping foot every time I pass by the old man by the lake, and heâs playing boleros on his guitar,â
Then suddenly, a chuckle escapes beneath your pooling eyes, âGosh, I even see you in the toothbrush aisle at the store, remembering which brand feels the nicest on your fangs,â
You then look to him finally, which was a mistake since you quickly speculate the sheen on his eyes isnât just from the reflection of the embers that sit before you two. You could swear you see more of the wine of his eye, too. But alas, his face remains still as stone.
âMiguel, the truth is, I donât know much about love⌠but what I do know is that I think about you all the time. I think of you even when youâre not around. I think of you⌠without even trying,â
You have to steady yourself, because you too are becoming emotional,
âI think of you so much, Miguel⌠I see you in everything I do. And I think thatâs how I know I love you, and I love you so so so much.â
Miguel blinks, breaking the dam and letting that singular tear finally fall. He sniffles faintly and brushes it off like dust under a rug,
âI wouldâve settled for âyour looksâ, but that works, too.â
Typical. You pour your heart out and Miguel responds with sarcasm. You both engage in a fit of giggles as you tackle him. He lets you get a few pillow swings in before trapping you with his body.
âI love you more, by the way. Just so weâre clear.â
