Untitled

21f

[hugmeonce]

i dont know why but the thought of a girl fucking herself thinking of me is so hot

like knowing shes fingers deep in herself but all she can think of are my fingers inside her, my mouth on her neck and tits, thumb on her clit like…

fuck now i wish i was actually there to fuck her myself

[pintmother]

eating her pussy and watching that string of spit and cum form when i pull back

[kittyangelic]

pleasee

[yourneighbourhoodspiderman]

Im wet

[baisemains]

𝒲𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝒶𝓃𝒹 𓇼

Kinktober 2025 Day 28: Thigh Riding

trinity santos x gn!reader

word count: 1.5k

contains: established relationship, alcohol, lots of fluffy moments, kissing, smut, dom!reader, sub!trinity, beach sex, technically public sex but no one is around, clothed sex, praise kink, use of "good girl", teasing, nipple play, hickeys, trinity gets flustered very easily, lots of beach metaphors cause i couldn't help myself

description: you and your girlfriend plan a weekend escape and take advantage of having the entire beach to yourself.

a/n: we all know trinity loooves being bossed around even if she pretends she doesn't, so this is very in character imo, i hope you all enjoy it and let me know what you think 🐚🌊🌅

ao3 link | spotify playlist

trinity santos masterlist // kinktober masterlist

The baby blue hue of the sky above is slowly giving in to gold, the occasional cloud in the distance adding depth to the gorgeous landscape. Compact waves crash against the shore a few yards away from where your feet are currently dug in the sand, and the sound of your girlfriend's voice animatedly telling a story rounds out the relaxing vibe of the early evening.

"—And then after I turned her down, she had the nerve to tell me that my drink was actually hers, like she got mad and tried making me feel stupid or something."

Trinity was recounting a memory from her med school days, and you can easily picture how feisty she was during the encounter.

Shaking your head, you chuckle, "She did not."

"She abso-fuckin-lutely did! And then the bitch tried taking it from my hand!" The brunette's widen as she remembers that night, the adrenaline flowing through her veins anew.

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Then what'd you do?"

"Told her to fuck off or I would crack a bottle over her head. My friends pulled me away after I said that and she must've left or something cause I didn't see that bitch the rest of the night." Trinity ends the sentence with a huff and swig of her beer, looking at you with her lips pursed before letting out a deep exhale.

Laughing in disbelief, you watch as she turns to face the ocean and the reflection hits her just right. Your objective changes then, and you pull out your camera to capture the moment as she starts a different story, but all you can focus on is how striking her features look in this light.

"—not even listening to me."

Through your lens, you see doll-like eyes staring at you expectantly and look up from the device in confusion. "What'd you say?"

"I asked if you were listening to me," she sulks while tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Clearly not."

"Sorry, babe, you just look so gorgeous right now that I got distracted."

Beaming at Trinity to lessen her annoyance, the woman briefly rolls her eyes, but you know the flattery worked as intended when she leans for a kiss while whispering, "you're such a sap…"

You smile against her lips, molding your own around hers in a manner perfected by years of practice. When you part your mouth after a couple of minutes, she accepts the invitation and slips her tongue in gently, licking into you with purpose. A deep hum travels up your throat as you enjoy the feeling of kissing your girlfriend, but soon you want more.

Placing your hands on her waist, you pull her onto your lap and her thighs bracket one of yours, immediately getting comfortable in their new position. Your hands gently paw at the pliable skin of her sides, but you don't expect it when Trinity jerkily grinds down onto you and a soft gasp leaves her lips.

You separate your mouths far enough to be able to look at the woman and ask, "What was that?"

"Nothing," she rushes out, trying to distract you with open mouth kisses on your neck.

It works momentarily as your eyelids flutter when Trinity reaches a certain spot near your collarbone and she thinks she successfully got you to forget about her blunder. Her relief shatters only minutes later, firm hands sliding down to her hips and pulling her down to mimic her earlier movement. The moan that unleashes from her chest is one of pure bliss and her head even tips back slightly at the feeling.

Sure of your next move now, you stare at her eyes and wait for them to lock with yours. When they do, you see the initial shyness in them but that soon turns to arousal as she examines your expression. Trinity lets out a nervous chuckle and is about to ask what you're doing before the sensation of her bikini bottom strings being undone sets in.

Looking down, her eyes widen when she sees the fabric pooling over your leg until it leaves her lower half almost completely exposed. "You, you can't—we're in public!"

She then glances around frantically as if someone had magically spawned nearby and that pulls a chuckle from you.

"Trin, no one has come by all day. We'll be fine, I promise you."

You don't give her any more time to protest, leaning in to steal a quick kiss before yanking the fabric from under her body and dragging her bare pussy across your thigh to spread the beginning of her wetness there. Trinity reflexively bites her lower lip to subdue her moans this time, but you're quick to react.

With a wicked smile, you slowly dig your fingers into lightly sun kissed skin. "I don't think so."

Your thigh flexes and her whole world narrows down to the direct pressure on her clit. A whine manages to escape her lips without permission and her head falls to your shoulder as her resolve slips away like sand through her fingers, rolling her pelvis over the warm flesh underneath.

"There we go, angel, no need to hide those pretty sounds from me."

Turning your head towards her, you nibble at the pink skin under her jaw before moving down to gently press your lips to her neck. You suddenly rise to bite the shell of her ear and the rhythm on your thigh falters.

"Come on now, you can do better than that."

Your hands squeeze her hips in a silent command and she obeys right away, grinding down harder and faster than before.

Sitting up, you focus your gaze on the portion of your leg being claimed by your girlfriend's arousal. That's when you see how the setting sun casts a highlight over your slick covered flesh and sigh in delight. "Look at the mess you're making on me."

Trinity's eyes immediately land between her thighs and her blush intensifies at what she finds there, whining before inhaling shakily.

"You dont have to be embarrassed baby." Your breath caresses her ear when you lean in closer to it. "It's so fucking sexy."

Your lips reattach to her neck and make quick work of sucking a noticeable hickey on the side of it. A hand then comes up to her bikini top and brushes over the material to feel a hardened nipple trapped underneath.

Deciding to free it, you pinch the stiff bud before leaning back and pulling her top up. The sight that greets you is undoubtedly perfection, and you take a second to truly admire it in all its glory.

Once you conclude you need a taste, you rasp, "You're so gorgeous," before diving down and firmly licking at a protruding nipple.

Trinity's hands fly to the back of your head and cradle it gently when you begin suckling at her heated skin. Taking your time, you let yourself slip into a true beach mindset and spend several minutes laving marks over her chest as both of you enjoy the sensation.

Your hands move to her lower back to hold her steady when you double your efforts, and the powerful squeeze around your thigh lets you know you're doing a good job.

"Feel okay?"

Trinity's mouth is agape as short pants make their way into the air between you. Nodding quickly, she can't even verbalize her answer due to the increasing pleasure in her lower stomach and she has to stave off her orgasm to let it build a bit higher.

Shifting underneath her, this new angle presses firmer against the woman's clit and she cants her hips down faster and faster with every passing moment.

"Good girl."

The combination of your word choice and seductive tone causes her to choke out a whine before crumbling like a sandcastle hit by a wave. Her release pours over your thigh as full body shivers wrack her body and you expertly lead her through them. Kissing her shoulder gently, you listen as her breathing returns to normal and eventually look down to catalogue the damage.

Her cum covers the entire length of your thigh, even dripping down onto the sand below. The urge to capture it forever takes over your mind and you start reaching over to the bag for your camera.

Trinity still hasn't fully come back to herself as you take picture after picture, in awe of your personal ocean between her legs. Only when she whines in embarrassment do you tear your eyes away and look up into drooping green eyes.

"Why are you taking photos of that?"

"Because I think beauty should be celebrated. Don't you?"

She answers with a languid kiss instead, smiling against your lips as you both get swept up in the other all over again.

The two of you soon pack up when the sun dips below the horizon and the sky begins fading to navy, trudging back to your car hand in hand as you carry the minimal belongings. Turning your engine on, you pull off onto the highway with one hand on the wheel and the other on her thigh, summer breeze flowing through the open windows as you chase the fading light in the distance.

taglist! @the-killer-queenie @catalinaromanoff @maxwell0706

[alliewrights]

Sorry

Trinity Santos x nurse!girlfriend!reader

Summary: After a petty fight, Trinity is determined to fix her mistake. Ignored apologies turn into whispered pleas and a desperate need to make things right, until she’s on her knees, proving just how badly she wants your forgiveness.

CW: smut, cunnilingus (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), strap sex (r!receiving), strap referred to as a cock a couple of times, begging, squirting, multiple orgasms, porn-with-minimal-plot, sex as an apology, light angst in the beginning, Trinity’s kind of a brat.

WC: 5k

A/N: this was supposed to be porn-without-plot but then I wrote 2600 words of build-up. Oops.

⟡ ───────── ⟡ ───────── ⟡

North-3 is the first one you check on. It’s an elderly pneumonia-admit. A boarder, waiting on a room upstairs to free up. You check his IV site, adjust the flow rate, and smooth his blanket when you notice him start to shiver. 

“Too cold?” you ask.

He nods.

“I’ve got you, sir.”

North-5 is next, it’s a child with a sprained wrist and tear tracks drying on flushed cheeks. You hand her a sticker from your pocket and let her choose the color of the wrap. Purple wins out.

When you step back out of the patient bay, Dana hands you a chart without looking up from her own clipboard.

“You’ve also got 8, 12, and 14 now,” she says. “And drink some water, I haven’t seen you take a sip all shift.”

You accept the chart with a roll of your eyes, though it’s comedically unserious. “Yes, mom.”

Dana makes a noise that’s half-scoff, half-laugh.

Across the nurses’ station, Dr. McKay crouches beside a stretcher, speaking softly to a patient whose hands won’t stop shaking. She has this way about her, with calm radiating from her in a way that seems to steady everyone within reach.

Behind you, a crash cart rattles past.

“Labs for you,” Joy calls, sliding a printout onto the counter before disappearing towards triage where she’s supposed to be stationed for a majority of the day.

“Ogilvie!” Dana barks. “If you lean on that desk any harder it’s gonna file a complaint!”

The med student startles upright with a mock-salute.

You hide a smile and keep moving.

North-12’s monitor chirps sharply as you enter. You silence the alarm and reposition the pulse-ox, jotting down updated vitals in the patient’s chart. 

When you step back into the corridor, Dr. Whitaker nearly collides with you, his arms full of supply packs.

“Whoa, sorry,” he says breathlessly. “Have you seen Santos?”

“Saw her at a workstation earlier, charting,” you answer automatically.

He grimaces in sympathy. “She’s been buried in charts all day.”

You bump his shoulder gently as you pass, careful not to knock any of the supplies out of his arms. “It’s emergency medicine, Dennis, we all are.”

He grins at you, already moving again.

At one point, at the furthest workstation from yours, Dr. Langdon flips through a chart with theatrical irritation. 

“Why is triage sending me abdominal pain that’s clearly gallbladder?” he mutters. “They need to be admitted to surgery, not here.”

You don’t look up from the vitals you’re logging. “Maybe they just like you and want you to have the easy cases.”

He scoffs, but the corner of his mouth twitches up in a smile he tries to hide.

The rhythm of the department carries you forward - you reassess, chart, medicate, reassure, and repeat - the choreography familiar enough to be instinctive by now.

You and Trinity share three patients today.

That’s not unusual. Nothing about the way you work together is unusual.

You anticipate her orders before she voices them, she trusts your assessments without question. A glance across the room is enough to coordinate the next step. You’re a well-oiled machine.

Nobody comments on it anymore. Everyone knows you’re together. You keep it out of the workplace as much as you can, but it slips through the cracks sometimes.

It’s obvious in the extra coffee she brings to you at the nurse’s station, the way you slide protein bars into her pocket between traumas because otherwise she isn’t going to eat her whole shift, the absent brushes of hands when passing charts.

In front of patients, she’s Dr. Santos. 

Everywhere else, she’s Trinity.

The distinction is effortless because of how long you’ve been together.

You finish updating Room 8’s intake and step back into the hallway, scanning for your next task.

Across the department, Trinity stands above a workstation, her shoulders tight, eyes fixed on the glowing screen and screaming of exhaustion. A half-finished cup of coffee sits abandoned beside her keyboard.

“Dr. Santos?” someone calls from a trauma bay.

A phone rings.

Dr. Whitaker sets a stack of charts beside her elbow. “These need signatures when you -”

“I know,” she says, not looking up from her screen.

Another monitor chirps.

You glance at the vitals on your clipboard, then toward her again. Room 8’s blood pressure is down, systolic lower than you’d like. She needs to know.

You make your way into the narrow opening beside her workstation. 

“Hey,” you say quietly. “Room 8’s pressure is trending down, do you want fluids started now or -”

Her hands stop moving on the keyboard and she shoves herself back from the desk with enough force that her coffee cup threatens to tip over.

“Can you just leave me the fuck alone?” she snaps, her voice tight with strain. “I need five seconds without someone bothering me.”

The words crack through the department louder than the surrounding noise, causing multiple people to pause what they’re doing and stare.

No one answers.

Movement starts up again after a moment, keys keep clacking, stretchers rattling past, someone calling for respiratory.

Trinity is already turning back to the screen in front of her, attention swallowed again by one of her many, many unfinished charts. She doesn’t look at you. She doesn’t see the way you freeze.

“Oh,” you say softly. “Okay.”

You step back, pivoting smoothly to avoid Dennis as he rushes past you for the millionth time that day. Your shoes carry you down the corridor with the same steady pace as before, if not a hair faster.

Only when you reach a supply cart as far away from everybody else as possible does your vision begin to blur. 

You blink hard, focusing on the printed vitals until the tears clear from your eyes and the numbers sharpen under your eyes. 

Room 8 still needs fluids.

You look for Dana instead. 

You find her at the nurse’s station, checking inventory of a supply cart against a clipboard that’s balanced on her forearm. She glances up as you approach, her eyes catching yours over her glasses before returning to her list.

“Room 8 needs fluids,” you say. “Pressure’s drifting.”

She nods immediately, logging it on her to-do list. “I’ll get it started.” 

As she takes the chart from you, she looks at you again and her expression softens as she turns her full attention to you. 

“You okay?” she asks.

You busy your hands straightening empty saline bags that don’t really need straightening.

“Fine,” you say. “Just busy.”

Dana watches you for a bit longer than most people would, studying you. 

“It’s been like that all day, you know,” she says casually. “She’s drowning in charting and everyone wants a piece of her.”

You swallow, adjusting the edge of a label until it aligns perfectly.

“She didn’t mean you specifically,” Dana continues.

“I know.”

And you do. You know. But that doesn’t stop the hurt that’s settled in your heart.

Dana shifts her weight, nudging a tray closed with her hip.

“Try to give her a little grace today,” she murmurs. “She’s having a hard one.”

You nod because Dana is rarely wrong. 

You’ve watched Trinity work herself to exhaustion before, many times. You know the stiffness in her shoulders, the way she forgets to eat, or drink, or sit up straight, the refusal to step away even when she’s running on fumes.

“I know,” you repeat.

Dana studies you for another second before reaching out and patting your arm. Then she turns back to her inventory.

“Go save the world,” she says.

You almost smile. 

The department pulls you back into motion before you can linger in your hurt feelings.

North-5 needs discharge instructions, Room 3 needs a blanket warmed. Joy flags you for a redraw, and Ogilvie nearly drops a specimen cup and you catch it before it hits the floor.

The rhythm continues, and you continue with it.

Across the department, Trinity remains at the computer, fielding questions, signing orders, answering patients. Once, she laughs faintly at something Dr. King says, the sound brief and frayed at the edges in a way that suggests she just wants to be left alone.

You don’t go to her.

When North-12’s family asks for an update, you route the request through Langdon instead. When respiratory needs confirmation, you send the message through the system. When a clarification is needed, you consult McKay.

Each decision is reasonable, efficient, and totally appropriate.

And each one creates a little more distance as your feelings are hurt more and more.

⟡ ───────── ⟡ ───────── ⟡

Trinity watches you from across the department. She knows it was out of line, yelling at you like that, letting her frustration leak out onto the one person she’d never want to hurt. She didn’t mean for her anger to land on you.

It wasn’t even you she was mad at. It was Dr. Al-Hashimi, for threatening to make her repeat her R2 year if she didn’t catch up on her charts by the end of her shift. Every page, every note, every alert feels like it might decide her fate. She was drowning, and you, unknowingly, had walked right into the water with her.

She swallows the guilt that’s thick in her throat. She’ll make it up to you later.

Somehow.

By late morning, Trinity sneaks off to the coffee machine again, desperate for more energy. Her hands shake as she pours the drink, her own too bitter, but she adds sugar and cream to yours the way she knows you like. Carefully, she sets it on your station in front of you.

She watches, half-expecting a grateful smile like normal.

You don’t look up, or say anything. The coffee sits, untouched, exactly where she’d left it, until a janitor clears the counter several hours later.

Later, while slipping into the bathroom to wash her hands, she texts you about dinner.

Dinner at that restaurant up the street tonight? My treat. Huckleberry’s working a double tonight.

She watches as the Delivered notification changes to Read. Then…nothing. No typing bubble, no reaction. You’ve seen it. You’ve ignored it.

Her stomach twists.

By the afternoon, she has no choice but to approach you about a patient. You’re going over charts, clipboard in hand, and she slides up beside you.

“Hey, you said earlier that Room 8’s vitals -” she begins.

You cut her off, your tone clipped and flat. 

“Already took care of it, Dr. Santos,” you say without looking at her, your fingers tapping notes into the screen in front of you. 

Time freezes for her.

That’s when she realizes: you’re mad.

You’re not tired, you’re not distracted, you’re mad. At her. You never get mad at her, you’re like the sweetest, most mild-tempered person she’s ever met, it’s why your relationship works so well, you balance her out. 

She backs away from your station, watching you with a strange look on her face. This is unfamiliar territory for Trinity.

You don’t even look up.

The rest of the shift passes in a blur of charts, vitals, and emergencies. You move from patient to patient, alert and competent, but there’s a permanent-looking frown on your face that wasn’t there this morning.

Trinity notices, of course, she always notices you, and it eats at her every time she catches you intentionally avoiding her gaze, the way you’re keeping your distance from her.

She tries again and again, bringing you back the special pen she always “borrows” from you because it’s better than the shitty department ballpoint ones, even going so far as to try and consult with you about a lab update in person. But every effort is met with the same wall of polite and professional detachment. 

Dana gives her one of those looks over your shoulder, knowing in a motherly way, but Trinity can’t bring herself to explain. She can’t admit how badly she screwed up. All she knows is the slow, sinking realization that your feelings are hurt and it’s all her fault.

Finally, the shift ends. Patients are signed out, supplies restocked. You grab your bag and head out towards the hospital parking lot. Trinity follows, hunched under the weight of her own backpack.

You reach your car first, keys already in hand, doors unlocked. You slide inside, already settled behind the wheel, waiting to take her home.

Trinity catches up, pausing once she’s in the passenger seat. Her brow furrows and she sighs heavily.

“Hey…” she begins.

You don’t look at her. You don’t speak, your hands remain on the wheel, fingers flexing around the rim as the car warms up. 

She scoffs, incredulous. “You’re really not going to talk to me?”

You remain silent as you pull out of the lot.

“Look,” she says, her voice rattling and a little less confident now. “I – look, I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to talk to you like that, I’ve just been frustrated and it’s been a really busy day for me.”

It’s an excuse.

It was a really busy day for everyone.

Still nothing from you, your eyes focused on the road, your mouth set in a straight line.

You look pissed.

You make it home in record time, eager to be out of the car.

You unlock the apartment door and step inside, shrugging off your coat and hanging it next to the door. Trinity follows behind, her expression unreadable. She lingers at the threshold for a moment as if she’s expecting you to speak, but the silence stretches between you.

In the kitchen, you start dinner. Chopping, stirring, plating. The apartment smells like garlic and the roasted vegetables you’d gotten from a grocery delivery the other day, and at one point you’re pretty sure you hear Trinity’s stomach growl, but it doesn’t ease the tension in the air.

When plates are ready, you set hers down in front of her, serving her the way you always do. Silverware aligned, napkins folded in front of you both. You take your own plate and slide into the chair across from her at the table and begin eating.

She picks up her fork and looks at you expectantly, waiting a moment before setting it down again.

Nothing.

The clock ticks loudly somewhere in the apartment, the only sound other than the scraping of your silverware against the plate.

Trinity opens her mouth to speak, and even takes a breath to start, then stops, blinking at you.

You don’t even look up at her. You take another bite, chew, and swallow, then repeat. 

Her chest aches and her apologies feel inadequate. She knew she hurt your feelings, but she didn’t realize it was this big of a deal. The silence between you two is a presence, heavy and judging, and she hates it.

After dinner, you dump your plate in the sink and head for the couch. You sink into it, phone in hand, scrolling absently through messages, or social media, or literally anything that will keep you distracted. Your body slouches low, heavy with exhaustion, both the physical and mental kind.

Trinity clears her own plate quietly before coming to join you. She pauses at the edge of the couch before carefully sitting beside you, one leg bent up underneath her, her whole body turned to face you.

You don’t look up at her, but even though your eyes are on your phone, your thumb has stopped scrolling. You might not look like it, but she does have your attention. 

She shifts closer to you, hands in her lap.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, leaning into press a kiss to the side of your face, just beside your ear. Her lips linger, a whisper of warmth, an apology she can’t quite articulate. 

Then she sees it.

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye.

Still, you say nothing.

You didn’t pull away when she kissed you, so she reaches for your waist, wrapping her arms around your middle and pulling herself closer as she kisses the side of your face again - closer to your jaw this time.

“So sorry,” she mutters, kissing down to the top of your neck beneath your ear.

Even without the physical response she usually draws from you, she focuses on the spot under your ear and just a little further back – the one that she knows always causes a shiver to run up your spine.

“I miss you,” Trinity mumbles against your skin. “I’ve missed you all day, I’m so sorry.” She kisses your neck between words. “Let me fix this, yeah?”

Your phone still sits in your hands but it no longer holds your attention. It hangs loosely from your fingertips, threatening to fall as your eyes close, too focused on the feeling of your girlfriend’s lips against your neck to really care. 

Her body leans fully against yours, her hands on your waist gently urging you sideways onto the couch. You let her guide you, your mouth still stubbornly shut, but it’s a win to Trinity all the same. She takes the phone from your hand and sets it on the coffee table before climbing over you, hovering as her knees bracket your thighs. Then she sits back on her heels and ties her hair up and out of the way.  

Once she’s satisfied that it won’t get in the way, she bends down to kiss you - but you jerk away far enough that she can’t reach your mouth.

You’re still upset.

You’ve never truly been upset with her before, the two of you almost never fight. 

“Guess I’ll have to earn that, huh?” she huffs, a small, breathy laugh leaving her.

You stare up at her with raised eyebrows, challenging her to try.

Trinity shuffles down your legs until she can part them, which she does with ease, receiving no resistance from you. She makes quick work of the tie of your scrub pants before pulling them down and tossing them somewhere onto the floor behind her. 

She settles between your legs, placing soft kisses over your bare thighs. 

“I fucked up,” she says quietly. “I know better than to talk to you like that.”

Her lips reach the edge of your panties. She runs her tongue along the elastic, and your hips tilt involuntarily toward her mouth. She hides her smirk, knowing that even when you’re stubborn, she still has you. She licks up your slit with a broad, flat tongue over the fabric, and your head falls back against the couch. 

You are not a quiet lover. Trinity loves how loud you can get; you’re her favorite sound, especially when your roommate isn’t home. So when the only sounds escaping you are sighs and gasps and even those are stifled, she knows that you’re intentionally holding back because you still haven’t forgiven her.

Impatient, she sits back on her knees once again and hooks her thumbs into your underwear, sliding them down, a satisfied little smirk on her face as a string of wetness clings to them as they peel away. She watches as your thighs twitch, resisting the urge to close.

“Looks like you’re enjoying the apology,” she whispers, her nose wrinkling just a little as she smiles. “Fuck, baby, you’re ready.” 

She trails her fingers up your slit, collecting the slick that’s gathered, the pressure of them increasing just a little when she reaches your clit.

When she looks up, you’re watching through half-lidded eyes, your lips parted and breath shallow. She settles in, arms sliding beneath your thighs to hold you open to her.

She spares one more glance up at you. Your eyes lock and she pauses, waiting.

For permission.

That’s how you know this is an apology. Aside from the beginning of your relationship when you didn’t know each other that well, Trinity rarely ever asks for permission. She knows you like the back of her hand, she knows what you’ll say, what you’ll want. She knows she doesn’t have to ask permission, but she is.

Your hand, which had been laying limply at your side, reaches for her. Fingers wrapped around her ponytail tightly, you pull her face to your cunt.

Permission.

Her tongue darts out, sliding against your clit. She groans into you, her own eyes rolling back at your taste, her grip tightening around your thighs like she’s afraid you’ll run from it.  

“Ah!” the involuntary whimper echoes through the living room and you clasp your hand over your mouth.

Too late.

The sound spurs Trinity on and she untangles one arm from underneath you, reaching up to blindly smack your hand away from your face. When she’s satisfied that you’re not going to try and muffle your sounds again, she uses that same hand to shove up your scrub top and the long-sleeve you wore under it, followed by your bra, exposing your breasts. 

Your stubbornness waivers as she rolls a nipple between her fingers. Cries begin to fall freely from your lips as she refuses to let up on your clit. Her mouth seals around it and her cheeks hollow, pulling a particularly broken moan from you.

Your grip tightens in her hair, trying to pull her closer as your hips rock against her face, demanding more.

Her other hand slips free, sliding under her chin so her fingers can prod at your entrance. You wiggle, trying to grind down onto them. You can feel the smirk on her face as she slips two into you easily, immediately curling against that spot inside you that she knows by heart.

The one that causes you to throw your head back, a guttural moan torn from your throat as you’re shoved over the edge of your orgasm so suddenly it makes your head spin. Trinity’s fingers don’t let up, fucking you through it until you’re shoving her away. 

She’s off you in a second, practically jumping to her feet and disappearing into the kitchen. She returns shortly with a water bottle, tossing it onto the couch beside you.

“Drink that,” she says, still a little breathless. “I’m not done apologizing yet.” With that, she disappears into the bedroom.

You’ve barely taken a couple of sips of the water before she returns, her own scrubs discarded, clad in only her sports bra and the familiar harness around her hips. Hanging from the ring is your favorite of all the toys you own: the dark blue one with the curve that hits you just right when you’re on your back or riding her.

Trinity knows it.

“Get your ass in there,” she demands, jerking her head toward the bedroom behind her. 

You scramble to stand, flustered as you pass by her just in time to earn a stern smack on your ass. 

“On your back,” she says once you reach the bed. 

She reaches for you and for a moment you think she’ll pull you closer, but instead she’s pushing you gently onto your back, hand on your sternum guiding you down until you lay exactly where she wants you.

Climbing over you, Trinity bends your knees, sliding her own under your thighs to angle you up toward her cock. You’re still soaked from your orgasm, a fact she doesn’t let you forget as her thumb massages over your clit while the tip of the strap nudges at your entrance. 

You huff as she stays there, dragging it up and down your slit but not pushing inside you yet.

“C’mon, quit teasing me.”

Trinity pauses. It’s the first thing you’ve actually said to her. Her eyes flit up to your face, noting the impatient look you now sport. The corners of her mouth lift.

“Yes ma’am,” she mock salutes as she slowly pushes into you.

The stretch is intense, the strap bigger than her fingers but also managing to nudge that same spot over and over as she begins to thrust in and out of you at an annoyingly slow pace. It’s good, it feels good, but it’s not enough, not to get you off. 

You wiggle, trying to meet her thrusts, but her hands pin your hips in place. 

“Take what I give you,” she mutters, her eyes trained on the blue silicone sliding in and out of you.

You glare at her, propping yourself up on your elbows. “I thought this was supposed to be my apology?”

Again, her gaze lifts and she catches your eyes, amused. 

“It’s actually my apology to you, babe,” she says, her thrusts slowing further. 

You know what she wants from you, what would get her to do what you want. But she’s being a brat, and you know rewarding this behavior will have you paying for it later. But the need, the desire burning inside you is overriding the thought. You don’t care, you just want her to move.

“Please, Trin,” you plead, your head tipping to one shoulder. 

Her hips stutter and her lips part even as her throat goes dry.

You don’t stop there. “Please, please fuck me, Trin,” you start to babble, tears of frustration pricking at your waterline. “I need it, please -”

That does it. 

Trinity’s fingers dig into your thighs hard enough to bruise as she hoists them up to her shoulders. She lifts on her knees so she’s towering over you as she begins to drill into you at a punishing speed.

The switch up has you crying out so loud you’ll receive an angry note on your apartment door the next morning, alternating between unintelligible sounds and Trinity’s name on repeat.

“T-Trin, too much, s’too much…”

She chuckles above you, the sound airy and breathless from exertion. “It’s not too much, baby. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

You try so hard to not focus on Trinity’s words, making a conscious effort to stop yourself from cumming so fast, but her thumb resumes its circles over your clit and you’re lost to it.

So close.

“Go on, baby,” Trinity goads, leaning further over you, the new angle of her body doing nothing to slow the movement of her hips. “Accept my apology, c’mon, cum on my strap.”

Those words do you in, the white hot fire consuming you from the inside out as your walls spasm around the silicone, your entire body seizing up from the pleasure. But Trinity doesn’t stop her thrusts even as your body goes limp under her, and you whine as overstimulation begins to creep in. 

“Trin – Trin, stop, I already came,” you protest weakly.

She doesn’t stop her bruising pace or the swiping of her thumb at your clit, even as sweat causes her hair to stick to her forehead. 

“You’ve got another one in there,” she pants. “I know you do.”

She’s not wrong. Almost immediately the pressure is building inside of you, but you know the difference between an orgasm and what she’s trying to do to you.

“I – I can’t, Trin, you have to -” You’re cut off with a loud moan as the hand that hasn’t busied itself with your clit begins to press down on your lower abdomen, right where her cock lands inside you every time her hips meet yours. 

Your wails jump an octave as she wrings your third orgasm out of you, bullying your cervix with every thrust. Your whole body convulses as she drags you over the peak, her pace never faltering, almost animalistic in nature.

Your cunt gushes around the strap, soaking not only yourself, but Trinity’s lower abdomen and thighs as well. 

“Holy fuck, babe,” Trinity groans, her mouth agape at the sight, at the absolute filth of a mess you’ve created all over both of you. Her hips falter and slow until you’ve stopped shaking, before she slowly withdraws from inside you.

You throw an arm over your eyes. 

You’re going to have to wash the sheets. 

And shower. 

The bedroom is quiet except for your uneven breathing and the creak of the mattress as Trinity stands to unhook the harness and set it aside.

You don’t move, your forearm still draped over your eyes, your body boneless against the sheets.

A warm hand slides over your stomach.

“Hey,” Trinity murmurs from somewhere above you. “C’mon, let’s get cleaned up.”

You groan but don’t resist when she slips an arm beneath your shoulders and pulls you to the side of the bed. Your cheek presses against her shoulder as you stand, smelling like sweat and the coconut deodorant she always wears.

She guides you to the bathroom, nudging the door shut with her hip before letting go of you to turn the water on. She tests it with her wrist until steam begins to curl into the air, and then she nudges you in, following after you.

Warm water cascades over both of you, rinsing sweat and salt and the evidence of everything that just happened down the drain. Your muscles loosen under the heat.

Her palm glides down your spine in long, soothing passes.

“I never should’ve snapped at you.”

It’s said so quietly you almost don’t hear it over the sound of the shower.

“No matter how frustrated I was, taking it out on you wasn’t right.”

Water beads along your skin as her arms slide around your waist, holding you from behind. 

“It wasn’t about you,” she continues softly. “Al-Hashimi’s been on my ass this week, threatening to make me repeat my R2 year, and I’ve been drowning in charting and trying to prove that I deserve to be here…but that doesn’t excuse it.”

Her grip on you tightens a little. “I’m really, really sorry.”

You tilt your head back just enough that it rests against her. 

“Still mad at me?”

You’re quiet just long enough to make her shift nervously behind you.

Then you sigh, sinking back into her chest. “…I’m considering forgiving you.”

A little laugh bursts out of her as she presses her face into your wet shoulder. Her lips brush the back of your neck softly. 

Your arms bend, reaching backward to hold her body against yours and you turn your head to kiss her.

“You’re forgiven.”

⟡ ───────── ⟡ ───────── ⟡

Enjoy this? Check out my Masterlist.

[yelenaslyubov]

BEDSIDE MANNER

MAIN MASTERLIST || TRINITY SANTOS || REQUESTS

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ pairing: trinity santos x afab!reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ warnings: MINORS DNI (18+) smut- r and trinity receiving, sexting, language, bratty bottom trinity supremacy, cunnilingus, face riding, fingering, biting, nipple play, teasing

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ description: when trinity gets called into work on her day off, you’re left at home alone with your thoughts. becoming too bored, you spice up trinity’s work day by sending her special pictures to distract her.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ word count: 4.2k

You woke up to a cold bed, your outstretched arms rubbing over the cotton sheets. It was a strange feeling— waking up by yourself to an empty apartment. The energetic buzz you normally feel as the world wakes you up is no longer there. Unfortunately, the world got called into work on her day off.

There had been a train accident that pulled Trinity into work early in the morning. The two of you had specifically worked your schedules out so you always had days off together. PTMC had once again stolen a precious day away from the both of you.

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand and checked your notifications. There were more tiktok notifications than you could count from Victoria, a text from Dennis about turning the load of whites pink again, and a text from Trinity a couple hours ago.

6:47 am

trin🖤

i’m sorry i got called into work, angel. it’s gonna be a busy day, so i may not be able to answer you quickly. breakfast is in the fridge, love you ;)

No matter what was going on, Trinity always ensured that you were taken care of. Even with her hard exterior, she was the most selfless person you knew.

8:55am

you

good morning :) thank you for breakfast🫶

Once you heard the cats scratching on the door, you slowly got out of bed. You languidly made your way to the kitchen to seek out the breakfast Trinity had set aside for you. A bowl of freshly cut fruit, yogurt, and granola was waiting for you. She only made food when you were around, which was all the time now. It became part of her love language now, spending time cooking things that you loved most.

You had resisted the urge to text Trinity for a while— you knew she was busy, but you couldn’t help that you had been thinking about her from the moment you opened your eyes this morning. Her warm touch that you’re so accustomed to and her signature scent that intoxicates you with a single whiff are the things you miss most in this moment.

Your thoughts start as pure lighthearted memories, but they slowly morphed into a heated territory. Those warm touches that slither down your stomach or the smell of her neck as your lips ghost across her skin and your tongue tastes the lingering notes of musk. You could even imagine the feeling of dragging your nails up the back of her neck and into her short hair, slightly pulling until she—

You had to stop, but you couldn’t not think about her whilst you were surrounded by her presence everywhere. What you wouldn’t give to have her here right now…

9:46am

you

thank you sm for breakfast. it was great, only wish i was eating something else ;)

It might’ve been corny, but it was the truth. To your surprise, your phone buzzes rather quickly.

9:48 am

trin🖤

woah there, a little early for innuendos isn’t it?

9:49 am

you

never when it comes to you <3 how’s work going?

Trinity reads your message but doesn’t answer. A minute or two later your phone starts ringing.

“Hey!”

“Hi baby,” Trinity greets and your knees practically get weak from the sleep deprived rasp in her voice. There’s something about talking to her on the phone that makes you hot and bothered. “I only have a couple minutes, but I thought I would check on you before going back in.”

“I’m doing alright, just wishing you were here,” you sighed.

“Mm, I bet you do.” You could feel the smirk through the phone.

“How’s work?”

“Oh you know, just putting that savior complex to good use as always.” You scoffed at her joke. “Been fishing debris out of wounds all day, Robby’s still punishing me I think.”

You sarcastically gasp. “What do you mean? He hasn’t forgotten about how you practically had my clothes off in the staff lounge and that’s why I’m on probation for hospital visits?”

“Okay, your clothes weren’t off,” Trinity starts, “my hand just so happened to slip under your shirt…”

“And my pants.”

“Whatever,” she dismisses. “It was worth it.”

“Ask me how you feel after your entire shift cleaning wounds and no surgery.”

“Such a brat,” Trinity huffs a laugh. “I should probably go.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, babe.”

Trinity hangs up the phone and the world is quiet again. All that remains is the flicker of feelings and lust that settles heavy in the air like fog. You had a long day ahead of you until Trinity came home.

It had been a few hours and between checking your phone every few minutes, doing laundry, and reading a book, boredom started to consume you. You hadn’t heard from Trinity since this morning, but you hadn’t stopped thinking about her since.

A terribly dirty idea conjured in your head, causing you to smirk to yourself. Who said you had to be the only one worked up?

You positioned yourself on the couch with a book in your lap and your shirt unbuttoned. The camera was angled down just right so you could see easily down your shirt and get a peek of your lace bra. You made sure to wear the big brown glasses that Trinity liked so much on you to top it off.

You took the photo and hit send.

—

“If anything starts to ooze or swell more than it has already, come by and see us and we’ll take care of you again.”

“Thank you so much!”

Trinity watched as the last of the non-critical train crash victims walked out of the ER. She gave a faint wave goodbye before her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She gasped as she opened your message. Her eyes fixed on where you knew she would love most. Trinity didn’t know how long she was sucked into a trance until someone approached her.

“Everything alright, Trinity?” Samira asked.

Trinity practically dropped her phone in surprise. “Oh! Uh nothing— I mean yes, everything is fine.” She shoved her phone deep into her pocket and made a mental note to look at the picture more later.

Samira smirked and nodded her head. “I just came by to tell you that the blood and CT results came back for that little boy— everything looks great.”

Trinity sighed. “That’s really good to hear, thank you. I’ll be right back,” she said shortly, her head nodding in the direction of the bathroom. She turned and walked at a quicker pace than she normally does.

When she made it to the bathroom, she entered the last stall and sat down. She pulled her phone out again and stared down at the picture. Her eyes admired the lace trimming that adored your breasts and her breathing shuttered.

When she saw your glasses she bit her lip to hold back a smirk. She couldn’t understand the logistics of why you looked so damn good with glasses on, but it worked like a charm every time.

As she stared at the picture, another message came through— it was another picture.

This time you sent a picture in the mirror. You were preparing to get into the shower when you decided to add fuel to the fire. The picture was from the waist up and you were fully nude, only covering your exposed nipple with your free hand. Plenty of skin to make Trinity’s mind wander.

Heat pooled to her cheeks and her core as she looked away from her phone. Your intentions were now crystal clear and Trinity wished more than anything she was off the clock.

She looked up at the ceiling and ran her hands through her hair. She wasn't sure how she was going to make it through the rest of her shift with your body freshly in her mind.

1:38pm

trin🖤

are you trying to kill me? bc if so, it’s absolutely working.

1:40pm

you

well i couldn’t let you have all the fun at work today ;)

1:40pm

trin🖤

i have a feeling i’ll be having a lot more fun when i come home from work. god, i wish i could touch you.

1:41pm

you

don’t worry, i’ll do it for you until you get here.

Trinity nearly choked on thin air. The image of you being so desperate for her touch was enough to make her squeeze her legs together. The temperature seemed to jump twenty degrees within seconds.

1:43pm

trin🖤

not without permission you won’t. you should know that by now, baby girl.

1:44pm

you

is that you giving me permission?

Trinity smirked and slipped her phone back into her pocket. She knew what she was doing was a little cruel, but it would pay off later when she came home to you. Trinity would be lying if these moments of brief torture didn’t bring her the smallest bit of joy, especially now that she could feel her phone buzzing from a stream of messages you were sending, most likely asking for permission. If Trinity had to wait, she wasn’t going to give you the pleasure of sweet relief either.

She approached the sink and splashed some cold water on her reddened cheeks before she went back to work. She regretfully left the bathroom with a head full of dirty thoughts and the end of her shift on her mind.

“What’s up with the red face?” Trinity jumped and cursed under her breath when Whitaker appeared out of thin air. “I’ve never seen you get embarrassed. Well, there was that one time with the scalpel-”

“No more talking,” Trinity said, “like, ever.” She walked away from Whitaker as his arms were shrugged in the air, not knowing what he did wrong.

If Trinity couldn’t come home, she sure as hell wanted to keep herself as busy as she could be to make the last few hours go by quicker. Even as she treated several patients, she found herself forgetting important steps in her diagnostic thought process and procedures— people were starting to catch on.

“Dr. Santos, do you have a minute?” Robby asked. Trinity sat at the bedside of a patient when Robby entered the room. She excused herself and followed him into the empty staff lounge, somewhere she didn’t see often as the ED was more demanding. “How are you feeling today?”

“Fine, I guess. Why, what have you heard?” Trinity nervously fidgeted in place.

“I can see for myself that your mind is elsewhere right now. The waiting room is starting to thin out, why don’t you go home.”

“I promise I’m fine, I just-”

“I don’t need anyone compromising patient care because they can’t focus. Everyone appreciates your availability on your day off and you did a great job, but politely, you’re not needed anymore. Got it? ”

Trinity sighed. “I understand.” She felt defeated about letting her work slip out from underneath her, but felt relieved that her work day had come to an end.

—

You looked impatiently at the clock. Time was moving at a snail's pace and you still had a few hours until Trinity came home. You weren’t sure how much longer you would be able to wait around for her to fix your little situation.

You had been too distracted in your own thoughts that every task left you paralyzed. You were glued to the couch until further notice. To your surprise, you heard the key turn in the door and all of your built up courage washed away.

Your eyes were fixed downwards while you tried to pretend you were reading your book. It was your attempt at playing hard to get regardless of the fact your arousal was eating you alive.

“Nothing to say?” Trinity hummed as you tuned her out as much as possible. She approached you with slow, intentional steps towards your spot on the couch. Her arms were crossed, her posture stiff, and you didn’t have to look at her to know how she was eyeing you down. When she stood before you, she leaned forward to place one of her knees on one side of you, her body almost towered above. With one hand on the back of the couch, the other slid up the side of your bare thigh where the heat Trinity radiated as a result of your teasing throughout the day lit your skin on fire. “Don’t get shy on me now, baby. You had so much to show me earlier, and now you’re all tucked away. Now, that’s not very fair, is it?”

Trinity's voice, sultry and raspy, left its kiss across your skin. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of her hand slowly rubbing its way down different paths of your body. She grazed over your shirt, moving until she hit the buttons in the middle. “I think you had a little less of… this.”

Her steady hands popped each button open one by one, paying you back for the torture you caused her. Your shirt slid down your shoulders and you dared a glance in Trinity’s direction. Her hair was pulled half up and her baby hairs flew loose around her face. It was a huge mistake because now you found yourself locking eyes with a smirking Trinity.

“There’s my girl,” she whispered while her hands felt up your hot skin.

You were through with playing coy. Hastily, you shimmied your arms out of the remainder of the shirt you were wearing and pulled Trinity into you. The sweet taste of relief rushed through you as you kissed her lips. She melted into your touch, delicately straddling you and pressing her body against yours.

Her nails scraped down the front of your bare skin, stopping to briefly circle her thumb over your nipples. “Shit, Trin,” you gasped.

“So she can speak. I thought you lost your pretty voice.”

“No, just saving it,” you answered, trying to suppress the noises your mouth was threatening to free.

Trinity wrinkled her eyebrows into a confused look, almost like she was studying you. While holding eye contact, her fingers pinched down on your nipple harder eliciting a loud sound from you.

“Saving it for that I hope?”

“You bitch,” you whispered.

You pulled her back in, her lips leaving you for too long. Trinity dug her nails into your hips with enough fervor to set you alight, but you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

It was so small that you almost missed it— the way Trinity’s hip flicked ever so slightly against you, trying to gain any traction she could. Your hands moved to her hips where you slipped your leg in between hers and forced her hips down onto you. She moaned into your mouth and you drank it down like strong whiskey, her sounds intoxicating.

“I see I had an effect on you too,” you teased.

“Shut up,” she said through gritted teeth while grabbing onto your hands. “Come on.”

You both left a trail of clothing behind as you kissed your way to the bedroom. The last thing to go before she crashed on the bed was Trinity’s sports bra that she threw somewhere in the room. She left her underwear on because she knew you wanted to be the one to take them off yourself.

She stared at you with her body propped up on her elbows. One of her legs was bent, putting her soaked panties on display. You cursed the fabric that covered her.

You crawled on top of the bed to her where your lips met again. Her hand snaked behind your knee and followed the path upwards towards your ass, squeezing it as you deepened the kiss. Your fingers ran through her hair until you reached her hair tie, promptly undoing it and putting it on your wrist for you to use later. You started twitching the closer that Trinity came to your cunt and she could tell you were practically begging for more touch.

At an excruciatingly slow speed, Trinity’s hand found its place between your legs. When she wanted to, she was really good at teasing you, but you didn’t know how much you could take tonight.

Her fingers slipped in between your folds, her fingers gliding on either side of your clit. Just enough to get enjoyment, but also enough to feel tortured at the lack of direct stimulation. You tried to ride her fingers to feel anything more, but you were stopped by a firm hand on your hip.

“No more,” Trinity whispered. “This is all you get.”

You whined. “Please.”

“You don’t get to cum like this on my fingers. I wanna taste you, baby.”

Even though she said exactly what she wanted, she didn’t stop touching you. Her finger circled lightly over your clit, giving you the stimulation you had been craving. This didn’t help your case if she planned on fucking you with her tongue because if she kept at this pace, you’d be coming undone soon.

“Trin…”

She could read you so well that you didn’t even need to say anything more. She stopped her teasing and used her hands to push your legs towards her, a signal for you to move up the bed.

You stopped when your core was inches away from Trinity’s face. It was her, so of course she would still take her time when you were dying inside.

She was obsessed with your skin— the feeling, the smell, the taste, marking it. She took her time when it came to your skin, savoring each moment she made contact with it. This time was no different.

She squeezed and rubbed on your legs while her lips found the soft skin of your inner thigh. It started as gentle kisses but it turned fiercer. The kisses turned into sucking marks onto your skin, which escalated to her teeth sinking their way into your skin.

You cried out but this was nothing new— this was Trinity’s speciality. She loved to mark you in areas only she could see, occasionally placing one strategically that could be seen by others.

One of your hands flew to her head, keeping yourself steady. In a moment of weakness and distraction on your part, Trinity lowered you down until your cunt was met with her tongue.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered, not expecting the abrupt contact.

You arched back, your hand that wasn’t taking space in Trinity’s hair supported you from behind. Her tongue licked long motions across your pussy, the tip flicking out to tease your clit even more.

She changed her method as your orgasm was building. She flattened her tongue, creating a harder surface for you to grind on. You moved your hips and rode her face as your pussy slipped back and forth on her tongue.

Trinity moaned and the vibrations coursed through your body, making your hips move faster and the sounds you were making louder.

You were getting closer and you had reached a state of ecstasy and Trinity made such fast work of you. As you continued to ride her tongue, your hand that supported you from behind shifted until you found her body. With a shaky hand, you found the band of her panties and slipped beneath.

The warm wetness you found was enough to send you spiraling, but you held off. You both moaned at the feeling. Trinity might play it cool, but she completely melted at your touch and became a whining mess. You couldn’t hold back a smirk when you crept your fingers through her folds and her legs opened wide almost instantly.

“Such… a fucking… tease,” Trinity managed to say through her breathing. Her hot breath brushed your soaked cunt which had you grinding into the thin air.

You tried to keep the focus on Trinity’s clit as long as you could, but the more you touched her the less attention she was paying to your own clit. You removed your hand and moved your hips faster, your high approaching fast.

“Baby… I-I can’t… I…” Your words turned into random mumbles of begging and pleading for your release.

She grabbed your hips and pressed you down harder against her mouth, her tongue focusing all of its efforts on your clit. You rode out your high with her name escaping your lips with every breath you took.

When you caught your breath, you looked down to see Trinity’s eyes through a heavy gaze. You moved down until you could see her face to face, bringing your lips to hers. You could taste the lingering parts of you on her tongue as she brushed it inside your own mouth.

You moaned at your own taste. Everything that you were doing only added to Trinity’s arousal. Her hips bucked up into nothing to which you pinned her to the bed.

“So damn eager,” you whispered into her ear.

“Can you blame me?” she scoffed, slightly embarrassed at her own want.

You kissed down her sharp jawline to her neck, then down to her chest. She squirmed and whined the entire way down to her core. You had to scold her once for moving too much.

It’s funny to picture her this way now. When you first started sleeping with Trinity she was unusually quiet, only verbally expressing her arousal when she finished. Now, you couldn’t shut her up even if you tried.

Your lips kissed the skin above her waistband, leaving marks that turned purple immediately. Once again, her hips tried to grind up into you. “What did I say?”

“Fuck, please just do something,” she complained. Trinity might’ve been frustrated, but it sure was fun getting her riled up like this.

As you trailed kisses lower, you hooked her fingers under the band of her underwear and pulled down. You could’ve came a second time just looking at the mess you caused. A string of arousal formed as her panties slipped down her legs.

Instead of giving her the satisfaction of your touch, you sat up straight and kept eye contact with her as you slowly put your hair up.

“Now that’s just mean,” she said.

You smirked, but quirked your head to the side playing dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re just trying to stall so that I-”

You cut her off by licking deeply through her pussy, collecting her wetness on your tongue. “What was that?”

She was unable to finish her train of thought as you cut her off. You had a tight grip on her thighs to keep her from moving as you ate her out.

Her lips were soft and sweet with her arousal. Your tongue licked circles around her clit, then flicking up under her hood. Even with your efforts, Trinity wouldn’t stop moving.

The unholy sounds she was making only lit a fire under you even more. If there was one thing Trinity could do, it was talk shit.

“I need more,” she whined. You had only just started, but it was cute that she was reaching her climax.

“What do you say?” you asked.

“Now.” She sounded impatient and needy all wrapped up into one. You knew she didn’t like to beg, but sometimes you liked to get her there.

“Mmm, you know that’s not right.”

“Oh, just shut up and-”

You watched her mouth fall open when you slid two fingers inside her. You moved them slowly at first, taking time to watch her reaction and feel her body around your fingers.

As you picked up the pace, you added your tongue back into the mix. You didn’t think she could get any louder, but she put you to shame within seconds. With profanities falling from her lips, she gave you a jolt of confidence.

With your fingers and tongue moving faster, along with Trinity riding your face, you felt her clench around your fingers. Her breathing was irregular and her hands found your hair, bringing your face closer to her.

“Babe… I’m right there,” she whimpered.

“I know, you got it,” you encouraged her.

“Fuck!” she cried out. Her legs clamped around your head, but you didn’t stop. You kept your tongue and fingers moving while she rode out her high.

One of the selfish things you loved doing when you fucked Trinity was watch her. The way her body reacted to your touch and the way she looked in her euphoric state. There was nothing better than seeing how you affected her.

Now you were caught in the act. Trinity looked down to see you resting the side of your face against her leg while you stared at her.

“Like what you see or something?” she asked.

“Something like that,” you smirked.

You moved from your position to lay next to Trinity. She turned towards you so you were both face to face. She smiled and brushed loose hairs away from your face and behind your ear. “Did I tell you how much of an asshole you were for those pictures today?”

You chuckled. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”

“Woah, woah, don’t go jumping to conclusions now.”

You both sat with each other for a moment. Though Trinity’s shift wasn’t as long as she planned, it was a rough day nonetheless. It was nice to sit in comfortable silence.

“You know…” you started, already sick of the quiet, “I don’t know why people say you don’t have any bedside manners. I feel quite satisfied.”

Trinity stared at you with a blank expression for several seconds before saying anything. “So back to what I was saying about you being an asshole.”

.

.

.

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[prettysheepy]

I want to be squishing somebody’s head between my thighs rn

[pixievi]

missing you....

content....established relationship, phone sex, porn with feelings, sub!grace, dom!reader, toy usage, praise, grace has a voice kink

wc....1,7k

you had been gone for at least a month now, away with Leon investigating an unknown group that had appeared in Raccoon City after you all left months ago. she worried about you so much, just as much as she missed you. she was sitting on the soft bed of you and her as heavy night rain pattered against the window, reminding her of the countless other nights where you were at home. cuddling grace tightly in your deep sleep as the bright light from her laptop kept her awake. the spot beside her was empty, with no arm wrapped her stomach and no warm cheek resting against her chest as she typed away. your scent was starting to fade from your clothes and bedsheets now, and grace was finding it harder and harder each night to cuddle a pillow that only smelled like detergent. she couldn't focus. she wanted to hear your voice. how you were doing. she wished you could call everyday, but you tried to call at least once a week. you hadn't called yet.

she sighed and closed her laptop, leaving it on the nightstand under the warm light of the bedside lamp. she was wearing one of your jumpers that she sprayed with your favourite perfume. she put it on for comfort, but now she had just been getting distracted all evening. she needed to focus and get her report for the week done. but how could she when your scent enveloped her? bringing her back to the night before you left? when you whispered sweetness mixed with filth right by the shell of her ear, tickling the skin and giving her goosebumps up her neck as your hips slowly filled her up, teasing her into a blushing mess beneath you.

she rummaged through your shared wardrobe where you kept the toys, pulling out her favourite dildo that you used on her. she kicked off her pj pants and panties, laying back on the plush pillows. your praise and pet names circled around in her mind as she circled her aching clit, the ribbing of the silicone softly dragging the sensitive skin. she bit her lip and closed her eyes, trying to quiet her mind and focus on the image in her head. one of you between her legs, instead of the toy she was teasing herself with. it slipped between her shiny folds, a mix between her own wetness and lube. her hips slowly bucked up and down as she savoured the steadily rising pleasure. her stress about her report was long forgotten, replaced only by her need for you. she whimpered into your jumper, the fabric muffling the sweet sound. she imagined how you would've snaked your hands up her hips and stomach, scraping her softly with your nails before cupping her tits. squeezing them like stress toys as your warm tongue made her legs shake.

she slipped the toy inside with a gasp. she squeezed her eyes even further, trying so desperately to be believe it was you on top of her instead of her burning hand. she wasn't loud necessarily, but she was vocal. she was shy about it before but your praises very quickly broke down that wall. even when you weren't there to hear, she pleaded and panted as she fucked herself. she almost didn't hear her phone buzzing from the bedside table. when she saw your name and photo smiling at her from her screen, she jumped up and snatched it. she adjusted her glasses as she answered. she tried to slow her breathing before you spoke.

"hi baby, how are you? you doing okay?"

"hi".she breathed, smiling. your groggy voice was like a warm hug to her. and it wasn't helping the situation you caught her in. "I'm okay, just busy working. I missed you"

"I missed you too. I'm sorry I couldn't call sooner. Things got intense for a moment, but it's okay now. I have good news"

graces heart jumped. "you're coming home?"

you chuckled. "we're flying first thing in the morning. chris is taking over for now, which works out, since leon almost got himself blown up. he's fine. just pretending to not be embarrassed"

grace chuckled half heartedly. she didn't want to hear about either of them at that moment. she only cared about you. you sounded tired, which stopped her from mentioning what she was doing before. the ache she had for you had only gotten worse.

"are you sure you're okay? you don't sound-"

"n-no I'm okay! I just wanna hear about you. please keep talking"

"you're cute. okay then"

she really tried to listen and to be fair, she was. just not in the way you were expecting. your voice was just so close to her ear and her hand automatically picked back up the toy she abandoned, and circled her clit again as you talked. unaware you talked about the mission, all the exciting and boring bits. especially the boring bits, since grace seemed to like them the most. she slipped it in again finally when you laughed, the stretch forcing out a deep moan. she quickly moved the phone away from herself, but she didn't stop thrusting the ribbed toy in her greedy pussy. she was taking it so well, and her mind was dizzy imagining how much you'd praise her for being such a good girl.

"grace"

she knew you had caught on and her pussy tightened around the silicone in anticipation. there was a small, less fucked out part of her that felt guilty to use you like that. but it was done now. and she was so so close. she tried to play it off.

"y-yeah? why'd you stop? keep going"

"i might if you tell me what you're doing"

she was ping ponging between being worried that she was in actual trouble and the embarrassment of having to say out loud that she was fucking herself silly just to your voice. on the other hand, she wanted to hear more of that voice, so she had no choice really.

"I'm uh-using your voice".she said, meekly, almost a whisper. it had been a while since she had been shy about things like this with you, but neither of you had done this before. so she was unsure of how you would feel about it. she should've known better though.

"for what?"

you knew what you were doing, and so did she. you loved to fluster her. she slowed down her thrusts, shying away from that high she wanted so badly. but she wanted to prolong this. savour it. you could faintly hear how slick she was under all of her breathless panting.

"to make myself cum"

"is this why you took so long to answer? I thought my pretty girl was asleep".you cooed. she could've sworn you had gotten closer to the mic, knowing how much she loved when you spoke into her skin. "you really did miss me"

"so much".grace agreed, in an almost sob as she teased that sweet spot inside of her. just like how you always did. "I wish you were here"

"you'll have me soon. can I see you? please?"

"y-yeah"

"thats my girl"

if she wasn't focused on doing a good job for you, she would've cum right there. she lifted the jumper up over her chest before pressing record. she angled the camera so that you could perfectly see how fucked out she was for you. her skin was cloaked in a sheen of sweat. it shone under the ambient light. a flush of pink softly coloured her cheeks as she upped the pace, wanting you to hear everything. it made her tits bounce gently with each thrust and she was very pleased with herself. you were gonna love the video. she just knew it. she had never sent videos of herself like this before. sure, you two had sent suggestive photos to one another but never something this filthy. she found it exciting. the act of itself, but also thinking about what you'll do with it after she has sent it.

she breathed your name in between pleads, angling the camera even further down so you could see the mess she was making all over the sheets and herself. the soft skin of her thighs glistened, matching the toy whilst the rest dripped down, staining the covers beneath her. she was so close again and it was so much harder to stop herself this time around, but she did. her hips bucked forward, missing the rising pleasure. she considered cumming on camera for you right then and there, but she wanted to hear your voice while she did it. she sent the short video, and waited impatiently for you to call her back. it didn't take long.

"fuck you're such a good girl. thats my jumper you're wearing isn't it? you're so lucky I'm not there sweetheart, I'd edge you until you cried"

she practically snuggled into the phone as you praised her, her belly fluttering. she didn't know how much longer she could take. "can I cum? please"

you took a moment to answer and the anticipation was killing her. she whimpered again. "you're such a good girl. of course, let me hear it"

your voice had taken on an all too familiar tone, and she knew that you were just as close as she was. she tightened around the toy again, this time letting her pleasure rise and rise until nothing but fucked out babbles left her. she gasped and her hips raised as it crashed over her, seizing her body. she kept fucking herself through it even as her legs shook and her grip on the phone loosened. she could say nothing but your name now, everything else fell away as her orgasm clouded her mind. she heard you gasp too faintly and smiled. she slowed down as you cursed, the pleasure getting a little too much for her spent pussy. she breathed deeply, relief warming her. she got under the covers, not caring about the clean up right now and waited with a soft gaze for you to speak again, cuddling the underside of her pillow. she fixed her glasses again.

"we're finishing that when I get back you know"

grace chuckled. "can't wait"

[delicatelymorbid]

need to straddle someone and kiss them soft, slowly pushing my tongue against theirs and letting my moans spill into their mouth. i'd grind against them while dragging my lips across their jaw, placing kisses on their warm skin to sear my touch into them. whining into their ear and nipping at the sensitive skin to make them shiver. dragging my hands down their arms and talking low and gentle, "feel how much i missed you" right into their ear as i pull their hand between my legs

[megawomanlover]

helping a femme hump my thigh by guiding her hips while i praise her until she ends up cumming all over me would fix me i think

[whatareyouthinking]

Hearing the phrase “I touched myself while thinking about you” makes me become so dysfunctional. Like 🫠… really?… tell me what you were thinking? Promise you’ll do it again for me? And keep telling me? Please, please, please…

[yourfemmestudier]

Wanna dip my fingers in a girl's pussy, feel her wetness sliding down my arm while I finger her and all we can hear are her desperately moaning to go faster and the wet noises

[hellomyfuturelovers]

big big BIG fan of being talked through it. but I just might even be a bigger fan of being talked through touching myself…

tell me every nasty thought you have, everything you want to do to me, anything you want me to do. tell me where to touch myself and how, tell me when to cum for you, when to stop, when to keep going. I’m an excellent listener <3

[bloodybruisedbutch-deactivated2]

I'm obsessed with the way wet pussy sounds. Like it makes me lightheaded just thinkin about it. When I'm fucking her on my fingers and she's soaked and you can just hear it, like it's almost as loud as her whimpering. I can't get enough

[pilot-g2-10]

dryhumping until its not dry isnt a want its a need

[deleted3000000003]

hey, it’s okay. dry humping while you’re the only one naked, continuously getting teased about all the damp stains you’re leaving on their pants (it only gets you wetter). okay???

(this post is about lesbian sex <3)