mowalsh is such a delicious dynamic to me because it’s just emery soft domming samira into being loved and cared for despite samira’s internalized beliefs she’s not worthy of it. and they both are so stubborn. that’s such good food. i love yuri.
me when there's a hetero ship with tons of interactions: yeah idk I just don't see it. they're kind of boring. there's just no chemistry, you know? it's whatever
me when two women look at each other for 0.5 seconds: oh my GOD they're so in love, did you see how they looked at each other? they want to FUCK and they SHOULD. I'm literally blushing and giggling, they need to kiss right now
me when there's a hetero ship with tons of interactions: yeah idk I just don't see it. they're kind of boring. there's just no chemistry, you know? it's whatever
me when two women look at each other for 0.5 seconds: oh my GOD they're so in love, did you see how they looked at each other? they want to FUCK and they SHOULD. I'm literally blushing and giggling, they need to kiss right now
genuinely seeing a mid ahh post abt a straight relationship or mlm ship get twice the amount of engagement than some of the best wlw writing i’ve ever seen get makes my blood boil in a way i can’t explain because why does the world hate women
as a writer who's been posting here for a couple of years, i’ve been noticing this for a long time, but right now i’m talking about the pitt fandom.
every time you write fanfic for pitt's male characters, you do not need to tag absolutely every female character, especially those who aren't there.
today i was looking through the latest updates with garcia and came across a work that only featured dennis and under the post there were tags for all the characters. you don't need to do this.
i understand that everyone wants as many views and likes on their posts as possible, but you're really making life difficult for those who just want to read female character x reader. the same goes for the tags platonic!female characters x reader. you can put this in the header of your work, but not in the hashtags.
when people search for female character x reader, trust me, they don't want to see jack abbott as a love interest and three lines from the female character they were originally looking for. you are showing great disrespect to your readers by making them waste their time. thank for attention.
emery sneaks in early from work, and wakes you up with a surprise.
cw: MDNI!!!!!!!!!! somnophilia in a way, but nothing hapens until reader is awake, nipple play, oral, fingering, penetrative sex (all r!recieving), slight degradation, implies pillow princess reader, lmk if i missed smth
a/n: no walsh this season means cope, enjoy my pittlings 🫡
You’re awoken by two cold hands sliding up the sides of your body. You know who it is without even opening your eyelids, which feel like they weigh a thousand pounds right now. You softly hum as her hands continue to explore. Emery mostly minds her manners— mostly, before she isn’t able to take it anymore. They trail further up, to the hem of your sweatshirt. Her fingers ache to go further. You can practically feel the desperation in her touch.
“You’re not even going to say good morning?”
Emery lets out a light laugh. She slightly moves up towards you, sacrificing her pride, to kiss your cheek. Her breath is warm as she leans into your ear, “It’s not morning yet.”
That catches your attention. Emery isn’t shy about her ambition, about the hours of work she needs to put in to feel sane. She wants to be the best, so she’ll always be first on the clock, and the last to leave.
You lean over to grab at your phone that sits on the chocolate brown nightstand next to you. The device blinds you with the time, 4:26. Your head hits the soft, sage green pillows, “How are you even home?”
“They scheduled too many people, figured I’d head out early.” Her hands start moving towards your breast again.
“Since when do they schedule too many people? There’s always too much going on at that hospital.”
Emery sighs, and removes her hand from your shirt. “Why do you have so many questions when I’m trying to fuck you?”
You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your chest. You didn’t factor that into the words that were leaving your mouth. You were still half-asleep, wondering what God to thank now that you finally got to sleep next to your girlfriend. It wasn’t easy to have a good night's sleep with Emery. She was a great surgeon, and that’s because she built herself into one. It didn’t come naturally for her, she worked her ass off to get the spot that she has. People told her countless times that she should pick a different specialty, but she refused to listen. And she sure showed them. She would never tell you this, but she feels like if she lets up for one second, her whole reputation will come crashing down.
“I’m sorry,” you move her hands back onto your body, and her thumb rubs tight circles right where your waist meets your hips. “I’ve just never seen you come home early, I’m very confused.”
Emery hums to herself. “Can’t you just be grateful?”
You snap yourself out of it, and nod your head, finally opening your eyes enough to see the look of hunger in her eyes. She was right, what were you doing? Why all the questions?
Emery wastes no time in pushing your shirt up to your neck. Her hands quickly find your right nipple and begin to pinch and pull. The moan that leaves your body is lewd, and probably too loud considering the time. But you didn’t really care. Her mouth kisses the middle of your chest before it wraps around your left nipple. You reach your hand towards her head to ground yourself. Her hair is still tied up in a bun, that’s probably been in for ten hours at this point. You rock your body against hers, hips pressing up into her thigh that's conveniently placed between your open legs.
Her lips pull off your nipple, and you whine into the open air. Emery makes quick work, though. The sheets ruffle as she lowers herself to the bottom of the bed. She hooks a finger into your waistband, but doesn’t pull them down yet. Instead, she presses open-mouth kisses to the lower half of your body. You feel like she’s trying to cover you in them. She acts like the kisses are marks that let everyone know your hers– like she’ll die if every inch of you isn’t covered in her scent.
Her hands continue to tease you under your underwear, on your hip, or on the edge of right where you need her, but never right where you want it. No one warned you about this part of dating a surgeon. She knows exactly where to tease, and when. Her hands are so precise, you genuinely believe that all the surgery has helped her hands grow their own brain cells.
She finally seems satisfied, and takes her fingers out from your waistband. She pulls the lace material off of your body and throws the garment across the room.
She takes a few moments on top of the bed. She’s sat up on her knees, looking at you with so much lust, you’re convinced she’s creating her own layer of hell in that moment.
“Why so much staring when I’m trying to fuck you?” You quip, wanting her to get on with her desires.
“Yeah, like you ever do the fucking. I just need you to lay here and look pretty for me. It’s all you're good at, anyway.” Most people would be offended by this statement, but all it does to you is bring a warm wave of pleasure down your body. “I’m just trying to admire what’s mine.”
Despite her words, she does get a move on with it. She settles in between your legs, blows gently on your heat, just enough to make you squirm. She starts by lightly teasing your clit, pressing, but barely, just so you knew she was there. Emery was always attentive to your needs; to how your body responds to her. She knew what you needed, and you loved letting her have full control over you. Your hips pressed up for the second time that night, letting her know she was doing something right.
“God, you get so wet without me even doing anything. Or were you dreaming about me before I got here?” Emery asks. She’s not really looking for an answer, she just wants to hear you whine. You go to grasp at her wrist, and press her hand harder. “C’mon, you know better than that.”
You pull your hands back and cross your arms over your eyes, digging the inside of your elbows into the sockets. Emery begins to press harder on your clit, and you feel her other hand snake up to press a digit against your entrance. The room suddenly feels too hot to bare, and you sit up just enough to pull Emery’s Penn sweatshirt off your body.
“So good, fuck,” you mumble, mostly to yourself. It feels like there’s a pile of hot coals sitting in the bottom of your stomach. Like your desire is actually burning for her, it always was, if you're being honest. She has always had a magnetic pull about her. Her cold demeanor never deterred you, it only made you want her more. You felt so lucky that you knew how to play her games, that you knew what she wanted you to do like the back of your hand. There were never any questions. You just understood each other.
All at once, Emery pulls away from you. Before you can even get an exasperated noise out of your body, you can see Emery’s hand shooing you away. She climbs off the bed and kneels down on the floor, and you understand. When she stands up, she has the harness and strap-on in hand. Again, you’re still trying to think of who to thank for this. Much like everything else, Emery is a master of getting it on quickly. She’s back on the bed, and lining up at your entrance in record time. The silicone head presses in gently, and you let out a puff of air.
“There y’go, baby, breathe.” Emery mumbles, mouth against your ear again. You wish the hot air didn’t drive you as crazy as it did, but every time she whispers words in your ear, your head gets a little bit fuzzier.
Her thrusts don’t let up for a second. She has the stamina of an olympic athlete. She can go for as long as needed. But you already feel like you’re close. Between her teasing, and your sleepy headspace, it all hits you ten times harder. The strap rubs the perfect spot inside of you, and your legs wrap around her waist instinctively. “Right there?” she asks, even though she already knows.
Your mouth falls open. A sound tries to come out, but your breath is hitched again, so you choose to nod.
“Already so fucked-out, aren’t you?” The more talkative Emery gets, the more you know it’s getting to her. The strap must be rubbing on her clit just right, because she’s panting in your ear like she’s close too. “When they asked who wanted to go home, I leapt at the chance. I’ve been wanting to fuck this sweet cunt all night, honey. You don’t even know how hard it was to keep my head screwed on straight today.”
You whimper at her words.
“It’s starting to become a problem. Any time I get a chance to think, it’s about you. You’re taking over my brain.”
“Sorry, sorry, just— please, Emery.” you say, hoping your pleas will convince her to let you come.
Emery ignores you, “I mean, what’s the point of being the best surgeon if I don’t have the best girl to come home to, huh? I swear, I’m starting to like showing you off more than my surgeries. I’m addicted to how you fucking feel– to how you make me feel.”
You snake your hand down and hold her hip as she thrusts into you. Your mind is practically blank at this point, but part of you knows that this is the nicest thing Emery has ever said to, well, anyone. She really loves you. You know it.
“Y’wanna come? Come with me, sweetheart. You got it.”
All it takes is a few more strokes before you're both being sent over the top of the rollercoaster. Your cunt twitches around the strap, and you grip onto Emery so tight that you’re positive she’ll have a bruise on her hip in the morning.
After a few moments of heavy breathing, Emery moves slowly to take the strap out of you. You wince at the removal, but it's quickly soothed by kisses on her neck. She sits up just to tear the strap off, and then crashes down on the bed next to you. You instinctively crawl into her open arm, laying your head down on her chest. The moonlight is bright in your joint bedroom, and you can make out her brown eyes staring down at you. She leans up to take her hair out of the bun, running her fingers across her scalp once it’s finally free.
“Did you really leave work just to fuck me?” you ask, genuinely curious if it was just pillowtalk.
She sighs through her nose, “Go to sleep.”
That counts as a yes, you think, before following doctor’s orders, and closing your eyes.
