From a young age, you learned to read the world through gestures, glances, and vibrations. Sound was never part of your reality, instead, there were hands, moving lips, expressions that screamed without making noise. Even so, the world always seemed to move too fast for you.
People grew tired of repeating themselves. Of writing. Of waiting.
So you learned not to expect anything from anyone.
That’s why you like quiet places, spaces where you can observe without feeling out of place. The café on the corner is one of them.
The bell on the door vibrates when you walk in.
You don’t hear it, but you feel it. It’s always like that: the faint tremor in the floor, the shift in the air. The place is small and cozy, with light wooden tables and a large window that lets in the afternoon light. You sit where you always do, take out your phone, and wait.
A shadow stops in front of you.
“Hi, hello,” the girl says.
You look up. She’s tall, pink-haired, wearing a dark apron and a smile that seems effortless. Her lips move quickly. You don’t understand.
You tilt your head, a little uncomfortable, and make the gesture you know by heart: you point to your ear, then your mouth, and slowly shake your head.
The girl’s smile freezes.
“Oh,” she mouths.
She watches you for another second, processing. Then she nods, serious now, and lifts her hands with a bit of uncertainty.
VI. ME. YOU SERVER.
Her signs are clumsy, poorly formed, but recognizable. Then she brings her hands together, exaggerating the gesture.
SORRY.
You blink, surprised.
You’re not used to people trying to communicate with you instead of giving up after the first second.
You type on your phone and turn it toward her.
It’s okay. Thanks for trying.
Vi reads carefully, silently mouthing the words. Then she smiles, more relaxed.
You type again.
I’m deaf-mute.
Where did you learn sign language?
She lets out a silent laugh and scratches the back of her neck. She pulls a small notebook from her apron pocket and writes quickly.
Online class.
Very short.
It shows, right?
You look at her for a second. Then you type:
Yes.
It’s terrible.
Vi’s eyes widen in exaggerated offense. She presses a hand to her chest and shakes her head, laughing without sound. You can’t help but smile.
“I deserve that,” she mouths slowly so you can read her lips. “But I promise I’ll get better.”
She points at your phone.
“May I?”
You nod and type your order. She reads it carefully, nods several times, and walks away, glancing back at you once more before turning around.
From that day on, Vi always serves you.
Sometimes with little notes.
Coffee with milk or black today?
With milk. Thanks.
Sometimes with her phone.
It’s quiet today.
Are you staying for a while?
She starts sitting with you when there are no customers. She rests her elbows on the table, watching you type as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
“You talk fast,” she comments one day. “Well, you type fast.”
You shrug.
It’s easier than signing.
Vi nods. She watches you closely, like she’s trying to understand you beyond words.
The next day she approaches you nervously.
She sits across from you and places her phone on the table. On the screen, a paused video reads: “Sign Language — Basic Level.”
“I’ve been practicing,” she says, articulating gently.
She lifts her hands.
HELLO. YOU.
It’s not right. Not quite.
You laugh, covering your mouth.
“Hey,” she says, smiling. “Don’t laugh… okay, laugh. But help me.”
From then on, some afternoons are just that: Vi practicing signs with you, frowning, repeating them over and over.
“Like this?” she asks, moving her hands.
You shake your head.
“Like this?”
You shake your head again.
She sighs.
“I’m going to learn. I promise.”
And you believe her.
You start going out together.
Long walks where Vi speaks slowly so you can read her lips. Endless messages when you get home. Simple dates: coffee, takeout, sitting together without needing noise.
One night, after the café has closed, you’re alone at your usual table. The lights are low. Vi plays with a napkin, folding and unfolding it.
She looks at you.
“I want to tell you something,” she mouths.
She raises her hands. This time they don’t shake. Her movements are slow, deliberate.
CAN I…
She hesitates, but continues.
…KISS YOU?
Your chest tightens.
You smile and nod.
Vi leans in slowly, as if afraid of startling you. She stops a centimeter from your lips, searching your eyes one last time. When you lean toward her, the kiss happens.
It’s soft. Careful. Her lips are warm, slightly trembling. Vi doesn’t move right away, she waits, giving you space. When you respond, she exhales against your mouth and kisses you again, a little firmer, a little more confident.
There’s no rush. Just the way her hands rest carefully at your sides, as if you’re something fragile and precious at the same time. When she pulls back, she rests her forehead against yours, breathing deeply.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
And she says it in sign language too.
THANK YOU.
This time, perfectly.
And you know, without needing to hear anything, that Vi learned a whole new language just to find you.
cw: abby × fem!reader, creampie, overstimulation, tribbing, tiny bit of cum feeding at the end, wc: 1k
kinktober 2025 masterlist
fuck, it's filthy. messy and slick and sticky. abby has been rubbing her cunt against yours for what feels like eternity. it's probably been hours. you'd wonder how her legs haven't given out yet if you weren't so truly fucked dumb right now.
she's still on top of you, holding your thighs open as her wet cunt slides against yours. she's panting, chest and neck and face flushed, yet her hips never slow their pace. she looks positively hypnotized by the sight of messy pussy, bush sticky with both your and her juices.
it's bordering on too much, she must feel how your clit twitches with your thundering heartbeat every time her own swollen pearl glides and bumps against it.
the tight grip you had on the crumpled bedsheets has long loosened, head rolled back on your pillow as slurred strings of her name tumble from your spit-slicked lips.
it's like your skull is stuffed with hot cotton, no room for any thoughts, let alone any attempts at a word that isn't her name. it's all you can think: her. how she looks on top of you, all sweat-glistening muscles and flushed skin; how she sounds each time her breath hitches and a drawn-out moan spills from her kiss-bitten lips; how she feels against you, hot and soaked and oh so heavenly.
"ffuucckkkk, just one more, i know you can take it, baby, one more," her words barely register in your brain, too caught up in the burning heat that is your nth orgasm coiling tight in your belly, ready to snap as soon as she tells you to.
her hips slap against yours as she speeds up, desperately rutting against your pussy. your legs twitch against her hold, trying to close as your clit thrums with overstimulation. abby pushes your thighs back open, and in turn maneuvers one of your legs to rest over her muscled shoulder. You're spread open like this, and the friction becomes all the more overwhelming with this new angle.
it's not long until your back arches off the sweaty mattress, eyes rolling into your skull as barely coherent pleas spill from your mouth. you don't know what you're pleading for, and there's no time to even think about it — not that you'd even know how to form a half decent thought right now — before bolts of electric pleasure shoot up your spine, sending thousands of stars flying across your blurry view of the bedroom ceiling.
your orgasm has you twitching and bucking against abby's soaked cunt, and you feel her shudder on top of you, bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she curses. she shifts, angling her hips so her slippery clit lines up with your pulsing hole.
when she thrusts forward, it's like your cunt is trying to pull her in, throbbing around her swollen nub with every erratic beat of your heart. when your vision comes back to you and your eyes focus on her, you can see every tremble that shakes through her muscular body. she's close, too. you can tell, even in your pleasure-drunken haze.
a few more grinds of her hips and she's coming — hard. nails digging into the skin of your thigh as a long, drawn out moan claws itself out of her throat. she's hot against you, pulsing and soaked where her clit still stays wrapped in your sobbing hole.
she pats your thigh gently when she guides it down to rest on the mattress, pushing herself off you with a small whine.
abby's sitting between your spread legs again, eyes glued to the messy sight that is your glistening cunt. you're barely awake by now, thouroughly fucked out of your body and floating somewhere in the humid air of your shared bedroom.
one of her fingers tugs at your inner thigh, just shy of your still pulsing hole, and your eyes blink open with a whine. it's so much, too much. you couldn't even guess how many times you had come and if you had the capacity to concentrate properly, you'd bet you'd pass out if your girlfriend decided she wanted to pull even one more orgasm from your overstimulated and tired body.
it seems like she doesn't plan on doing that, though. instead, she's cooing as her other thumb joins in in spreading your folds open, eyes sparking as she admires your sobbing pussy.
your core is a messy mix of both your and her juices, and your cunt is dripping with it. she's almost tempted to clean said mess up with her tongue and taste you, but the way you're leaking thick drops of silky cum has her too entranced to dare destroy the work of art she created between your thighs.
she's staring shamelessly, muttering soft compliments under her breath. she's not sure you're even listening, but she can't find it in herself to be bothered by that when she just discovered the prettiest sight she thinks her eyes will ever see.
her hand leaves your inner thigh, and in turn she runs a thick digit up your slit, gathering the mix of your juices and pushing them back into your slick gummy walls. your hips twitch, a high pitched whine filling the air as you clench around her finger.
she pulls back softly, kissing the inside of your knee before she crawls up the mattress, settling beside you and wrapping her arm around your shoulders.
"open up, baby," you obey instantly, mouth dropping open slightly as your glassy eyes trail over her face. you're adorable like this, properly tired out and all but melting in her arms. she gently pushes her finger into your mouth, wiping your cum on your tongue before pulling back with a grin.
she licks the remaining slick off her finger and leans down to kiss you, tongue licking into your mouth softly. "you taste like candy, so sweet," she mumbles, pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple.
