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warnings: VERY detailed wlw smut, a LOT of swearing
Her hands glided smoothly over your skin, her gaze inviting.
“What do you want me to do to you, hm Y/N?” She smirked, staring into your eyes, her teeth tugging at her deep red lips.
You moaned breathlessly, squirming as you felt her touch on your inner thigh, hiking your skirt up your leg.
“C’mon baby, use your words,” Betty whispered into your ear, her breath tickling your lobe.
You were finally able to choke words out. “T-touch me,” you murmured, snaking your arms around her neck and pulling her closer. She responded immediately, her hands going straight to your waist, gripping you firmly but softly, her soft hands feeling like silk against your hip.
“My pleasure,” Betty giggled as she began to leave small hickies down your neck, her fingers inching towards your core.
“Y/N? You okay?”
A voice brought you out of your fantasy, making your freeze in your tracks. Betty stood by the side of you, looking at you intently yet worriedly. “You good? You seem… distracted,” she stated, reaching a hand towards your shoulder. You immediately pull back.
“N-no!” You say, jerking back slightly. You cursed silently in your head. “I-I mean, no, I’m fine.” You smile weakly up at the blonde, forcing back the blush that you felt settling itself on your cheeks.
Betty faltered, bringing back her hand quickly. “Oh… if you’re sure then,” she muttered before shooting you a quick smile and walking a bit faster to catch up with Cheryl who was a couple of paces ahead.
You sighed silently to yourself, shaking your head at your idiotic fantasies. It wasn’t like you were a very sexual person, you were actually quite innocent… most of the time. It was Betty. She just… did something to you. Made you think the dirtiest thought no matter what situation you were in. And ever since your interaction with her earlier, you knew you would never be able to talk to her normally again.
It was a couple hours before the race and you’d been talking with Jug about the whole thing with the race, you personally believing that it was a bad idea. Eventually, you’d left him, rolling your eyes at his stubbornness before walking out into the garage. And what you saw would be present in your head for weeks.
It was Betty. Only it didn’t look like the usual Betty. In this particular situation, she was wearing some denim overalls with a really light pink t-shirt underneath. A very not-Betty outfit. But my God, did she pull it off.
You were speechless to be perfectly candid. You’d always though Betty was beautiful, hot even, but this made you see the blonde in an entirely different way. Her long blonde locks were pulled back in a messier ponytail than usual, her forehead glistening with sweat as she wiped her face with a tartan flannel. Oil stained her shirt, streaking her forearms as Betty traded her screwdriver for a wrench, kneeling down by her toolbox. A few strands of a hair were framing her face, flat against her sticky skin. Which only made you think of other ways you could get that girl sticky.
