saf. '01. she/they. lesbian. south asian. gemini moon. daughter of nemesis. probably thinking about sylvia plath's fig tree metaphor. ur favorite fic writer's favorite fic writer <3
loves: web weaving threads, the fear street trilogy, mary shelley, octavia butler, the connection between horror and feminine rage, sapphic film + literature, buffy the vampire slayer, lorde's melodrama album, etc.
p.s: always happy to make friends so feel free to send me a message or an ask :)
MINORS DNI !
who i write for: vi (arcane), ellie williams (tlou 2), shuri (mcu), gwen stacy (spiderverse)
fic spotlight: her canine teeth in the side of my neck (werewolf!vi x vampire slayer!reader)
currently working on: glory and gore (vi x reader, hunger games au) ; i can still change the end (vi x reader series, spiderverse au)
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hi lovely!! I was wondering if for pride and bloom what you thought about soft mornings with vi - morning before their first parade, both of them having woken up too early from excitement and laying there simply existing with each other. mybe even after a year or so together readers heart still reacts like the first time they cuddled. like vi laying with her head on reader's chest, maybe leaves a kiss there and reader's heart beat picks up/chest heats up and vi can feel it and teases her about it. reader is unashamedly down bad like well I don't think I'll ever stop having a crush on you. just very soft, playful. thank you and happy pride!! <3
awww yes yes i love this! i headcanon vi as the type of person who's used to living life on the fast lane, always living on edge and braced for impact all the time. but thanks to you, she's learned to slow it down and let herself to enjoy, to actually live and appreciate even the smallest moment
waking up early? vi would barely get any sleep the night before. she'd be too giddy and excited, so she kept waking up every couple of hours only to force herself to fall asleep again. it's a cycle— wake up with a smile on her face and heart hammering against her chest, close her eyes until she drifts off, wake up 40 minutes later, sleep again.
it goes on and on, until she finally quits trying to sleep around 6am. it's way too early, she's slept way too poorly, but she's practically shaking with excitement. you'd think she'd be exhausted, but she's wide-awake and invigorated as if she just slept 12 hours straight.
you'd be woken up by a tingling sensation all over your face— your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, the outline of your jaw, the curve of your neck. your eyes flutter open, bright pink hair falling on your face as vi keeps kissing it over and over again.
you chuckle, and vi's grin widens at the sound of it. her mouth trails up your neck, jaw, and face until her lips meet yours in a kiss so tender, so gentle, so full of love that your heart makes a flip.
"mornin', baby," her voice is rough from sleep, her powder-blue eyes looking at you with devotion. one of her arms sneaks around your waist, pulling you closer to her as she plants a new kiss on your shoulder.
"g'morning, vi," your hand plays absentmindedly with her hair. "mmm, it's so dark outside. what time is it?"
vi looks at the clock on the nightstand. "six-thirty."
your eyes widen, and you're about to grumble in disagreement, but vi shifts slightly until she's snuggling on top of you, her head lying over your chest as her arms tighten gently around your waist. her hair is a tangled mess, the longer strands fanned out over you and prickling at your exposed skin.
your heart beats like a drum and heat crawls up your neck as her lips brush delicately against your chest. vi notices, of course she does, and she props herself onto her elbow as her mouth tugs upward.
"oh my," her eyebrows are lifted slightly, an amused expression on her face, "your heart's—"
"oh, shut it," you hide your face in the palms of your face, and you can feel your cheeks burn in embarrassment.
"you have a crush on me," vi says in a singing voice, clearly teasing you. she chuckles, lying her head back on your chest and pulling you even closer. "that's so embarrassing, babe."
you huff out a laugh, eyes peeking between your fingers to glance at her briefly. she shoots you a playful smirk as soon as your eyes meet, and any other day you would tease her back, call her an idiot, or start a pillow fight.
but today? today your heart's so full of love, so thrilled at the thought of going to your first ever pride parade with your girlfriend. so delighted with the fact that you get to wake up by her side and fall asleep next to her, with the fact that she's the very first thing you see in the morning, the last person you speak to at night, and the one you're constantly thinking about.
"i— i don't think i'll ever..." you take a shaky breath, and suddenly vi's smirk falters. she blinks once, shifting until she's hovering over you, but she stays silent, giving you the chance to finish the thought. "i'll never stop... crushing on you."
vi's heart warms at the sight of you— bottom lip caught in between your teeth, eyes sparkling underneath dark eyelashes, nervousness clear in your features.
"i'll never stop having a crush on you," she repeats, one of her hands coming up to cup one of your cheeks. "i love you."
your eyes flutter close as vi's thumb traces your cheekbone, and you lean into her touch. she smiles lovingly, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead before repositioning herself, once again lying on top of you.
your hands thread into her hair, playing with it as her hands now trace random shapes on your arms, and she hums in delight. her head is once again on your chest, and her heart quickly matches the drumming of yours.
SYNOPSIS: Never in a million years you thought you'd have to thank a TikTok trend for helping you hook up with the hottest girl you've ever seen.
WC: 2.4k | CW: vi x fem!reader. nsfw, mdni. fingering (r!receiving), vi's a praiser, public sex (a club's bathroom). it's a quickie, some good old fashioned pwp.
a/n: i... have a thing with writing public bathroom sex with vi lol we're officially entering p&b's last couple of days! i still have two nsfw wips + pending requests but feel free to drop any ideas on my ask. enjoyyyy
The club is exactly what you needed tonight. It’s loud enough to drown your own thoughts, and crowded enough that no one expects you to make conversation. You’re here with your friends Mira and Jade, tucked into a little corner near the VIP section with a good view of basically everything, which is why you can’t help noticing her.
She’s standing with a group of friends near the opposite end of the bar, wearing a dark tank top, muscular arms on full display. Her hair’s a bold, unapologetic hot shade of pink that somehow manages to catch every light in the club. Every few moments, she looks around and scans the crowd with an intimidating confidence. And for the nth time tonight, those bright powder-blue eyes find you.
The first time it happened, you almost choked on your drink. The second time, you quickly looked away, suddenly very interested in your phone. By the third time, you just let yourself meet her gaze for a beat longer than you should, admiring the smirk that spread across her lips.
Now, she’s laughing with her friends and throwing her head back without a care.
“Girl, what are you staring at?” Jade nudges you, following your line of sight. “Oh, she’s totally your type.”
“She’s so fucking hot,” Mira leans in. “You have to take her home tonight.”
You’re saved from having to respond by a gentle tap on your shoulder. You turn around to find a girl with purple glitter on her cheekbones and an excited smile. There’s a tag that has the word “staff” written on pinned to her top.
“Hey! We’re doing this game tonight to celebrate Pride,” she gestures behind her, and your brows lift up at the sight of two girls are making out against the wall. “It’s trending on TikTok. We’re asking hot people who they’d make out with, then try to make it happen. You in?”
Your friends are suddenly very interested. Mira’s practically vibrating with excitement beside you, while Jade let’s out a playful gasp and grabs your wrist to shake it happily.
“She is!”
“Uh,” before you can overthink it, you nod. “Yeah, okay. Sounds fun.”
The staff girl beams. “Great! Lemme start recording.”
She gives her phone to her coworker, stepping up closer to you as she grabs a mini wireless mic. The guy gives you a thumbs up as he starts recording, and the staff girl shoots at smile toward the camera.
“Onto our next hottie!” she turns to look at you. “Who would you make out with if you could, babe?”
Your eyes betray you immediately, glancing toward the pink-haired girl at the bar without hesitation. She’s mid-laugh with her friends, that sharp jawline catching the light. Heat floods your entire face.
God, hopefully this does not go viral.
“That girl on the bar,” you say quietly, pointing across the room. “The one with the pink hair.”
The staff girl’s face lights up. “Oh, she’s hot! Okay, I’m gonna go talk to her. Stay here, yeah?”
Before you can second-guess yourself, both of the staff members are gone, weaving through the crowd toward the bar. Your friends are losing it— Mira’s practically screaming into her hands, Jade’s squeezing your arm hard enough to leave marks.
Vi’s downing down third drink of the night, completely clueless at what’s going on the other end of the club, when someone taps her shoulder. She turns around to find one of the club’s marketing staff vibrating with energy, while the other has a phone in hand pointed right at her.
“Hey! Question, would you be down to play our game?” The staff girl doesn’t even wait for a real answer before continuing. “We’re asking people who’d they make out with, and we try and make it happen. It’s for TikTok, just for funsies.”
Vi’s about to say no, she’s not really the viral TikTok type, when the staff girl adds something that catches her attention.
“There’s actually this really cute girl who picked you.”
Vi tilts her head to the side, brows knitting together. “Yeah? Who?”
The staff girl points across the room, and Vi’s eyes follow the direction of her finger directly to a girl from the VIP section. She’s taken aback once she notices it’s you, the girl who’s been catching her eye all night. But now you’re staring at her with flushed cheeks, your friends clearly freaking out beside you.
“Hell yeah,” Vi says, and she must sound pretty eager because the staff girl is grinning like she’s just made the best deal of her life. “Yeah, I’m in. Let’s do it.”
“Amazing! Let’s go introduce you, c’mon, c’mon.”
Vi can feel her heart pounding in her throat as she follows the staff girl through the crowd, leaving her drink and her friends behind. This is stupid, she’s being stupid. But maybe, the universe is doing her a favor here, because she’s been trying to figure out to talk to you all night without looking like a creep.
The staff girl leads her right up to the VIP section, and there you are. Up close, she finds you even more striking. And you’re clearly nervous, which for some reason she thinks it’s absolutely endearing.
“Okay, ready?” the staff girl positions herself in front of the phone again, smiling brightly as her coworker starts recording. “So! We’re here with—”
You lean into the mic as she props it toward you. “Y/N.”
Your voice is softer than Vi expected. Your eyes meet again, and the corner of Vi’s mouth tugs upward.
“And—”
“I’m Vi,” she says, taking a step closer toward you. Close enough she can feel the warmth radiating off your skin and catch the subtle scent of your perfume.
The staff girl steps back, grinning with excitement. “So, are you guys gonna—”
Vi raises an eyebrow in question, giving you a chance to back out to if you want to. Your cheeks are impossibly red, but you rest your hands over Vi’s arms and caress them lightly.
That’s all the permission she needs.
Vi reaches out, hand finding your jaw with surprising gentleness, and tilts your chin up before closing the distance. At first, it’s a bit shy— she’s hyperaware of the staff members recording, of your friends losing their minds, and her own friends probably watching in shock from across the room. But the second she feels you lean into her, control goes out the window.
She pulls you closer, deepening the kiss, and you let out a low moan that goes straight through Vi like lightning. She slides one hand to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair, and the kiss becomes more urgent.
Your fingers find the way up to her shoulders and dig slightly into the skin there, kissing her back with an intensity that steals Vi’s breath and makes her head spin. She tilts her head, and even gets a taste of the fruity drink you had earlier.
The crowd and the cameras and everything else fades away the moment she feels you bite gently at her lower lip. Her grip on your hair tightens slightly, and you shudder against her.
When she finally pulls back, fighting every instinct to just keep kissing you, both of you are breathing hard. All Vi can focus is on you— the way you’re biting your lower lip, hands still on her shoulders, chest heaving, lips swollen and glistening from the kiss.
“Okay, that’s definitely— yeah, thanks,” the staff girl laughs, shaking her head as they stop recording. “I think we got it. You two… wow.”
But Vi’s already thinking ahead. The club is packed, and she wants you alone now. She needs you.
She leans just enough to murmur against your ear, low enough only for you to hear. “Wanna go somewhere more private?”
You nod without hesitation, and Vi takes your hand as she leads you toward the back of the club. Your friends and the staff members move out of the way, not before Mira let’s out an excited gasp.
The staff girl groans, throwing her head back. “Ugh, not again.”
Luckily, the bathroom is empty. Vi barely lets the door close behind you before she’s pushing you against it, hands finding your waist, and kissing you again. You gasp into her mouth and immediately kiss her back, your hands sliding up her back and settling on her shoulders.
Vi shifts you two around, walking you backward until the backs of your legs hit the counter, and she lifts you up easily, settling you on the edge with a low grunt of effort.
“This okay?” she asks, pulling back just enough to check in.
“Yeah,” you breathe, pulling her closer. “Yeah, more than okay.”
Vi dips her head and starts kissing along your jawline, down your neck, and finding that sensitive spot where your shoulder meets your collarbone that makes you gasp. She sucks lightly, not hard enough to bruise, just enough to leave a small mark for you to remember her.
Your hands find the hem of her tank top and you’re pulling it up slightly, running your fingers across her abs, and Vi shivers. She pulls back enough to look at you, eyes dark with desire.
“Tell me if you want to stop,” she says, and there’s tenderness in her voice despite the intensity of the moment.
“Listen, you’re so kind,” you start, staring at her from beneath your eyelashes, “but I need you to fuck me, please.”
You capture her lips again, fingers threading through her pink hair and tugging gently, and she groans into your mouth. Her hands slide from your waist to your thighs, gripping slightly as she pulls you closer to the edge of the counter.
You can feel how much she wants you by the way her hands shake slightly as they move over your skin, the way she’s breathing hard between kisses, the way she keeps saying your name whenever you dig your nails into her skin.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Vi murmurs against your neck, lips lapping at that sensitive spot again.
She pulls back to look at you properly, and you can feel your stomach twist at the sight— her hair is slightly messed up, her lips are red and swollen, and her eyes look at you with such hunger and intensity your legs start trembling.
The sound of the club throbs outside, the bass vibrating through the walls, but you’re more focused on the soft sounds you’re both making. Vi’s thigh presses between yours, and you gasp, your head falling back against the mirror behind you. She takes the opportunity to kiss down your throat, her hands finding the curve of your waist and sliding under your shirt.
“Tell me what you want,” she whispers against your skin.
You’re too caught up in the feeling of her against you, all you can manage to answer with are soft gasps and whimpers.
Vi pulls back suddenly, and the loss of her touch makes you whine. She grabs your chin gently but firmly, forcing you to meet her eyes.
“Hey,” her voice is lower now, commanding in a way that makes heat pool between your legs. “Use your words.”
There’s a sharp intensity in her eyes that you weren’t expecting at all. God, she is so hot.
“C’mon,” her thumb brushes across your jawline. “Want me to fuck you or not?”
“Your fingers,” the words tumble out. “Please. I need your fingers inside me.”
Vi doesn’t waste any time. She pushes your skirt up around your waist and runs a finger along the inside of your thigh, tracing the edge of your underwear, and she hisses as she can feel how soaked you are even through the fabric.
“So wet for me already,” she murmurs almost to herself, and the statement makes heat flood to your cheeks. She hooks a finger into your underwear and pulls it aside, exposing you completely. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
She slides a finger inside you slowly, and the sensation is so intense you have to grip her shoulders to stay upright. She sets a slow pace, fingers curling just right they have you gasping her name.
“You’re taking me so well.”
You bite your lip, trying to be quiet, but Vi notices and pulls back slightly.
“No,” she says firmly, adding a second finger. The stretch is so delicious it makes you arch into her. “I want to hear you.”
You stop trying to muffle yourself, gasping and moaning as she works her fingers inside you. Her thumb finds your clit and starts circling with just the right amount of pressure.
“Fuck, Vi,” you manage, your nails digging into her back. “Just… holy shit… just like that.”
“I know, baby,” she says, and it’s such a contrast. The soft endearment mixed with the way she’s absolutely wrecking you. “You’re doing so good for me.”
A few moments later, your orgasm hits you hard, waves of pleasure rolling through you as you bury your face in her neck and try not to scream her name. Vi works you through it, her movements slowing but not stopping, dragging out every last bit of pleasure.
When you finally come down from it, you’re shaking and gasping for breath. Vi carefully pulls her hand away and brings her fingers to her mouth, sucking them clean while maintaining eye contact with you.
“Fuck,” you breathe, reaching for her waistband to pull her closer.
“Wait,” she catches your wrist, and there’s genuine reluctance in her voice. “As much as I want to, we should probably get back before they send security down here.”
You pout, but you know that she’s right. It’s been a while since you first entered the bathroom, and someone’s definitely going to come looking for you both soon.
“I know, but,” Vi continues, helping you down from the counter and smoothing your skirt down, “I’d love to take you out properly someday.”
A grin spreads across your face. “Really?”
She tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, her touch gentle now, almost reverent. She pulls you close and places a soft kiss on your lips, a stark contrast to the passion of moments before.
“Can I have your number?” she asks against your lips.
“Yeah,” you agree immediately.
After exchanging phone numbers, both of you slip back out into the club and head into different directions. Your friends spot you immediately, and both practically run toward you.
“Oh my God, where have you been?” Mira shouts over the music.
“We were wondering if we needed to like, call security or something,” Jade adds.
You feel heat creep up to your neck, but you’re smiling so hard your face hurts. You catch Vi’s eye across the room, and she’s got that lazy satisfied smirk on her face, running a hand through her pink her.
Huh... guess you'll need to thank that staff girl and her TikTok trend.
I CAN STILL CHANGE THE END (spider-woman!vi x spider-woman!reader)
LET'S DO THINGS DIFFERENTLY THIS TIME....her name is violet lanes. she was bitten by a radioactive spider and for the past 10 years, she's been the one and only ghost-spider spider-woman ! she joined a band, saved the city, fell in love, saved the city again, graduated college, argued with her sister (teenagers are the worst), moved in with her girlfriend in hopes of saving their relationship, got into grad school, broke her leg (do not text and swing, regardless of how late you are for an anniversary dinner), saved the city some more, maybe too much, but couldn't save the love of her life.
no matter how many hits she takes, no matter how much guilt she carries, vi always, always, gets back up, even if it's hard to keep fighting when she's lost so much.
and.....she's not the only one.
(spoiler alert: you're the one and only spider-woman until an alternate version of your dead ex-girlfriend crashes a double date and introduces you to the chaos of the multiverse.... and maybe reintroduces the possibility of a happy ending, however doomed it may be.)
i. mercury in retrograde — violet lanes adjusts to a different reality; a new team of supervillains wreaks havoc around new york; and you just really need a nap, honestly, but you have a thesis to write, a city to protect, and a ghost-spider to deal with.
ii. agent of chaos, angel of death — you and vi start to appreciate not having to shoulder the responsibility of spider-woman alone. hoping to find her a way back home, the two of you visit oscorp and make some sinister discoveries; mj agrees to let vi fill in as the band’s drummer, but your show is cut short by unwanted guests; and you’re once again faced with the reality that you can’t save everyone.
iii. in the web that is our own, we begin again — in every other universe, violet lanes falls for spider-woman. it never ends well. but, there’s a first time for everything, right? you and vi indulge in fantasies of what your lives would have been if you met under different circumstances; the two of you save the multiverse before harry osborn can make his daddy issues everyone’s problem; and an inevitable goodbye isn’t as final as it may seem.
# synopsis ─── a lot of nothings, a lot of everything, that’s what you get with violet lane in and out of your sheets. for some reason, no matter your best efforts, she sticks to the sweetest parts of you—even when you don’t wish her to.
# content warning. eighteen+, 1.2k+, public sex, lesbian freak-off in the library, preppy studious!reader, jock!vi cause i live and die by writing about butches, fingering (r!receiving), oral (if u squint), megadyke #dirtytalk, idk man just lesbian shit, and lowkey me writing fluff???? #desperatetimes
# ꒰ ◟ ྀི raynote. back on my drabble bullshit to remind myself writing is fun and not draining to my depression <33
“You’re incorrigible.”
She looks exquisite, breath-taking and disarrayed, and infinitely going to mess up your life kind of way. Her black, baggy muscle tank doesn’t show the outline of her abs that you know are there. What it does do is highlight her biceps in the dimly light library. Her shoulders that only seem to get wider in time, more defined in horrible ways that make you never want to give her up.
Unfortunately, it's exactly what lands you here. The very same reason you’ll hate yourself later. Just say no to her. It’s not hard. She’s only a woman. There’s so many out there. Other fish in the sea and what everyone on this god-green earth has spoken to you in the past.
You wonder if there’s more of her that can do what she’s doing with her tongue. A thought you cursed out of your mind for three consecutive days. Monday through Wednesday, you locked yourself up, besides the flow of your classes, pure isolation is the only solution you managed to find.
The stir-crazy brain got a grip on you as you shuffled your way into the library—it feels a lot like admitting defeat. It’s the only place you frequent, and exactly where she can find you.
The drill of the week chipping at you, your concentration hardly being able to resist when she sits next to you in the hidden corner of non-fiction memoirs on the third floor. These books have been collecting dust practically since the dawn of time. You should have known better than to think you could possibly be undisturbed for a week straight.
Once she found you, little to no probing you was needed. Vi makes you stand, because she’s absolutely insufferable, and she sinks to her knees. Overworked hands with her calloused palms and fingers tips kiss along your skin. She dips into the waistband, pulling them slowly until they hit the bottom of heels.
You have this whole, preppy look going on and Vi can't deny it always works on her. Short skirts, and your tight white and cream button ups that really do anything and everything for her. She can already feel her boxers clinging to her, sticky and sweet, all and becoming saccharine she’s been missing.
“Don’t get too loud, honeybee. Can’t have anyone know the smartest girl on campus fucks below her GPA average.”
That stupid name falling off her tongue makes you want to rip her hair out from the root, but all you do is keep her locked underneath your wool skirt. Violently carefully nails scraping in annoyance on her scalp. Last time you wore this outfit, Vi maneuvered her hands underneath and let her fingers fuck you in the co-op stall with your date down the hall.
It’s when you learned Vi didn’t like splitting your time with anyone else.
She's not what you usually go for. Arrogant, self-obsessed, but surprisingly sweet in a way you obstain from admitting. Her mouth gets in the way of it. Whether she’s on her knees like she is now, or letting dumb shit fly off the handle. Today, she’s managed to do both at the same time.
This time though? She’s practically boasting from the dig. Knowing you had the attention of her ex-girfriend, and might have even fucked her if Vi learned the capability of keeping her distance. “I really didn’t know—”
Vi shuts you up, lips wrapped around your clit, and a heavy moan leaves your mouth. You cover it when she flicks over your sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing patterns with her free hand on your thigh in the way she learned you enjoy.
“I can't really blame Cait—” She lavishes your cunt in a heated swirl of her tongue before her lips linger at the apex of your thighs, letting her fingers do the work for her while she speaks at you. “We always did have the same taste in women. It really must suck for her that you’re so obsessed with me.”
“I am not obsessed with you.”
Vi sinks another finger in, enjoying the instant possessive clench around her. “What about now?”
Without losing the power she has, Vi softly stands, while she keeps fucking you, until she’s looking at you, directly in the eye with her broad shoulders squaring against your frame. Her hot breath pressing against your neck as she flicks her wrist, her fingers curling until you grip onto her shoulder for leverage.
“Just admit it, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.” Vi’s lips monopolize on the curve of your jaw, the expanse of your neck, and just behind your ear. The sharp intake of your breath stirs a groan within her. Animialstic as it soars through her chest. “You always wanna be with me, huh?”
With one hand having her way with you, she lets the other precisely unbutton your shirt. The first time she hasn’t ripped one off, leaving you to awkwardly walk back to the parking lot to your car. Vi’s picks up her pace, enjoying the rapid fall of your chest every second you get closer.
“You’re so full of yourself.” You try to bite convincingly, but Vi does it much better when her teeth playfully sink into your neck.
“Maybe.” Vi slides her left hand underneath the wiring of your bra, tweaking your already peaked nipple. “But I do know when a pretty girl likes my company, and my fingers—and likes it even more when I fuck her with my mouth.”
“Shut up, Violet.”
“Oh, are you close already, baby?” Her thumb plays with your clit, applying more pressure as your hips buck into her. “You do always get a little bratty when you try to avoid me and realize where home is.”
A roll of your eyes doubles, and you’re about to tell her off. Really roll right over her. Let her cocky smirk slide right off her beautiful goddamn, scarred lips. Vi’s quick to see maybe she’s pushed you too far. So, she does the one think that always sets you off.
Popping your full breasts out of the lace cup, and one of them delectably falls in her eager mouth. It’s far too much, too soon, and you can hardly catch your breath.
“Vi, please—”
Your hips are riding her fingers as much as you can. Making sure she keeps them curled and sinking into the spot you’re chasing. This is when she really does you in. She goes all sweet, her alter-ego taking over, and she sheds her second-skin like a snake. This is the unfiltered version of her. Vi doesn’t put on a show. She’s not cocky and triumphant about fucking you. She’s full of honey and dreams. Sticky and too damn sweet.
It’s short lived, lasts as long as your orgasm does, and it’s your deadly secret you keep at night when your vibrator is between your thighs, trying to replicate the high. The reason you are obsessed like she claims. It has little to do with how she fucks. When she’s eager and putting all her strength into nimble and capable fingers. While it bodes well for your libido, your heart crushes underneath the weight of her compliments that leave her breathe in the secluded corner.
Almost like Vi blacks out when you beg.
It brings out the sweet-tooth in her, and you’re the sweetest piece of candy she’s ever tried.
“My sweet and smart, honeybee.” Vi pulls off your tits, and consumes your mouth, tongue and teeth overwhelming your every sense. “Be my sweet girl, yeah? My pretty girl always get what she wants, doesn’t she? Come for me, baby. I know you’re right there.”
And you do.
Sweetly and all consumed, you fall face-first in the honey she gives.
a blurb in which you fake an orgasm and vi simply isn’t having it. inspired by this ask! this one’s for the girlies on ssris lmao
warnings: 18+ only, minors and men please do not interact. contains oral sex and fingering (r!receiving)
you’re not entirely sure how long you’ve been like this - splayed out on vi’s bed, your legs spread wide to allow her access to your drooling cunt. beneath your arched back, the bedsheets are wilted with sweat from countless minutes - maybe hours - of the redhead’s torturous mouth on your heat, her slender fingers in your clenching hole.
and it’s good - it always is with vi. she knows how to play you like an instrument, touching you with careful, practiced reverence, pulling noises from your lips that are novel even to you.
but as skilled as vi is, sometimes your body - no, your mind doesn’t want to cooperate. and that’s exactly what’s happening now as you writhe in vi’s embrace, internally begging your body to grant you the release you so desperately crave.
you’re sweating, panting, knuckles paling as you grab a fistful of vi’s hair and tug just roughly enough to draw out a moan from deep in her throat. the vibration feels delicious against your sopping cunt, but god, it’s just not enough.
frustration burns in your chest and your eyes brim with tears, a frown pulling your lips downward. the wet slurps of vi’s mouth devouring your cunt should push you closer to the edge, but all you feel is guilt for keeping her there, mouth latched to your clit as your orgasm evades you time and time again.
fuck it, you think, resigning yourself to one of the oldest tricks in the book. with an overdramatic, whiny moan, you pantomime an orgasm, forcing yourself to tremble beneath vi and hoping your acting isn’t embarrassingly inadequate. you pretend to ride out your pleasure on vi’s face, cunt smearing her with slickness from her nose to her chin, and then you sink into the mattress, acting out your usual post-orgasmic bliss. vi’s fingers slip out from inside you and her mouth leaves your clit; you sigh in faux satiation, eyes falling shut.
“what the hell was that?”
vi’s voice, all hoarse and rough around the edges, cuts through you like a knife.
you open your eyes and find her already looking right at you, powder-blue eyes narrowed with skepticism. one corner of her lips quirks downward.
“what was… what?” you ask, avoiding vi’s gaze. your stomach churns with embarrassment - does she know? is she angry?
“you didn’t come,” vi says to confirm your suspicions. “but you acted like you did.”
your hands fly to your face, covering the look of sheer humiliation that paints your features.
“i’m sorry,” you murmur from behind the shield of your hands. “i just… i was taking too long. i felt bad.”
“oh, baby,” vi says, voice dipped in honey. the mattress shifts as she moves closer to you, her hands curling around your wrists to encourage you to stop hiding. you oblige, looking up at her with burning cheeks. and she’s so pretty, her expression concerned, your arousal still half-wet on her lips.
“you don’t need to feel bad,” she reassures you, hand cupping your cheek, “and you definitely don’t have to fake an orgasm just to make me feel better.”
despite her reassurance, you’re still embarrassed, anxiously biting on your lower lip as you nod in understanding.
“besides,” she starts, her hand tracing the curves of your body from your torso down to your thigh. “i just want you to feel good. i don’t care how long it takes.”
all you can manage in response is a weak “okay,” which the redhead doesn’t seem too convinced by. she lifts her hand to your face again, pinches your chin between her index finger and thumb to encourage you to look at her.
“let me try again,” she says, eyes locked on yours. “and no more pretending.”
when you nod your assent, vi smiles, the scar on her lip stretching just so. she leans in for a kiss, lets you taste yourself on her lips before she lowers herself between your legs again.
and this time, you let your mind go blank as she curls her fingers inside you, brushing against your sweet spot with familiar precision. you let yourself melt into the pleasure of her tongue splitting through your folds, allowing yourself to enjoy the way she laps at your pussy like you’re her favorite flavor.
truth be told, vi would spend an eternity between your spread thighs, worshipping you with her mouth and stretching you open with her fingers. and she proves that to you now, lips pursed around your puffy clit and sucking on the sensitive bead until you’re truly, honestly moaning with pleasure. with her free hand, vi paws at your tits, pinches your taut nipples to hear the way your breath shudders and feel the way your cunt flutters around the fingers she’s got buried inside you.
this time, you don’t have to beg your body for release. your hips grind helplessly against vi’s face as the knot in your belly begins to unravel, and when your orgasm crashes into you, it’s with a white-hot pleasure that blurs your vision and sets fire to your every nerve. your body positively burns with pleasure, the exact release you’ve been dying for rocketing through you until you’re left spent and exhausted, drool spilling from the corner of your lips as you lie limp on the mattress.
“atta girl,” vi says, her voice muffled by the ringing in your ears. you grin deliriously at her when she appears in your line of sight, her thumb swiping away the drool on your cheek.
“see? that’s what it looks like when you really come for me. don’t think i don’t know the difference, princess.”
yes you love your girlfriend, yes you love the lesbian pervert with a stupid wet boot and a nice video she'll jerk to later.
cw # this contains smut so it's intended for adults, men and minors do not interact, bigclit!vi, could be taken as the part two of this fic right here yet works alone if you’re lazy, boot riding, fingering, spit, cute and degrading nicknames too, switch!vi who turns into sub!vi, public sex, vi records you for educational purposes, nice pussy munching ñom ñom, established relationship,,,, # art by — visualeffex on x, divider bunny draws by pierrotpokes.
violet vanderson's been on a bad luck streak lately.
it all depends on how you see it-- but it has reached the point where it has your girlfriend biting her fist until her teeth leave marks in the knuckles and it's now a problem cause why, the fuck, would you be putting her through this torture?
you're making too much noise, the curtain of the dressing room barely covers the edges of the allegedly private room, and it's hard for your girlfriend not to moan — what's worse? have your girl blushing while paying wet underwear, or having to stop that delicious back and forth your hips keep doing while you ride her boot?
it fucks vi up entirely. leaves any rational thought in absolute oblivion as her mouth opens on its own and she has to bite her lip in response, caressing your cheek cause well, how else will she let you know how much she's enjoying it? keep you close as you take care of her needs, her aches and desires.
the store's full and she needs a moment to remember how exactly she ended up in that position: when she accepted to join you in a shopping spree the idea of public fucking never even crossed her brain but having you try on cute clothes in front of her? must be a gift from heaven between lacy bras and cute underwear that slips inside of her mind until it's the only thought she can keep for more than a minute. a kiss, two, three, how can you not want her hands all over you? how can't want take all over?
it's not planned. big chunky doctor martens boots with exquisite platforms are enough to make you salivate and suddenly? vi's stomach drops cause you're sitting on her left feet and the movement becomes a torture — makes your girlfriend swear she can feel you even under the thick leather of the shoe while that cute underwear set you were trying before makes wonders, hell-- since when is green such an interesting color? since when exactly are you into boot riding?
it's reasonable vi thinks, more worried about not being aware of when you pushed her to the dressing room's seat than the situation itself, now trapped in a small chair that holds her entire weight as she gets comfortable for you: when did your non-bought underwear start getting soaked like that? ignoring any detail becomes an impossible task now as you're whimpering, biting your lips, your inner cheek-- anything in your power to keep the pleasure for yourself, to keep going without the risk.
"that's it bug-- holy fuck. you're doing so good."
the moisten leather helps you move, and your cunt opens following the form of vi's shoe, delicious friction that makes the blood move in its circulation flow, take it to the erogenous zones: that fucking green set makes you look like a goddess and she cannot stop looking it ready to burn it to ashes, see the sweat that makes you glow under the white lights closer, the disheveled look, needy to cum.
"are you going to take a picture? they last longer."
it's entrancing, how you're capable of mocking her even when you're the one melting, a mere whisper of encouragement that makes vi blush. crushed, she's not surprised by the warmth that comes from between her parted legs, the result of her underwear now sticking to her pussy lips due to how turned on she is making it more painful to endure. half nervous, your girlfriend's voice never betrays her before simply adding: — "not really in for pics, bug-- you gonna be a nice whore for me and let me record you?"
and fuck you're dirty. you're pure filth and violet's aware of it, of every nasty thought, every crazy idea that crosses your mind in the worst moments. she knows that smile you gift her from before, how it tingles your brain right where she wants to before taking her phone out ready to press play.
fuck it if it's a mess when you become needier as the seconds pass: is it really greedy to ask for more? is it really your fault as your hand reaches the thick fabric of her black jeans and rub between her legs? it's a way of helping yourself out too, notice your girlfriend in delicious details you keep to yourself, relish in how her breathing picks up, how her cheeks keep stained in a subtle red shade.
"please let me eat you," you blurt out, words slipping on their own until it becomes a shared secret you love to be a part of, "vi-- please let me eat you."
it's like winning the olympics, a gold medal on fucking you up.
"what happened to the boot?"
"please."
"you will put on a good show for me, bunny?"
the need is a sin and violet's guilty. guilty of indulging your needs, always incapable of saying no. her muscles tense as she's holding her weight up so you can take off her pants, and there's no time to think about it twice, be aware of how pathetic she must look-- the ruined underwear that is now a proof of an overwhelming desire, the sound of your laugh that leaves goosebumps behind cause shame's not a valid option anymore-- god, your girl needs you, is that so crazy to admit?
your fingers touch her from over the cotton of her underwear and its soaked to the point its useless, a cruel reminder of how you're in control suddenly and she's there to comply, be good: of course you'll put on a fucking show for her, and the phone in vi's hand shake for a minute forgetting to angle the camera to your face-- oh ffuuuck is that her on your cheeks? glossy transparent now smeared on your lips like new a lipstick shade.
its evident at this point, the small budge that makes your mouth water, the smell in the air that makes vi dizzy for a moment. the sight of your girlfriend in front of you would make anyone misbehave — starting from the face she makes while looking down at you with half-lidded eyes, even how her body reacts to your touch, unable to stay still since she's desperate to get more.
delicious.
"does it hurt?" you question leaving soft kisses against her naked thighs, not giving much time to answer as your tongue rests flat against vi's engorged clit, a simple touch that makes her muscles tense at the contact, automatically dragging her hips closer to your face so you can be closer, deeper between her legs.
it does hurt, but how can she answer? your saliva blends with her juices and your touch's so soft it burns on the exposed skin and shit-- you're taking your time in pleasing her cause there's no need to rush it, to go faster even when it's a fucking store and there's people trying on clothes no more than footsteps away.
isn't it more exciting? the shot of adrenaline, the vaccine of danger. your mouth feels warm, welcoming. your tongue flicks around her swollen clit and the touch makes vi rest her head in the wall her body lies against, erratic breathing and whispered words of love, sure she's suffering from some kind of fever dream, a classic midnight fantasy.
so her bad luck streak-- how was that? when the blood tastes like licking metal in her mouth and you're sucking on her g-spot, its harder to stay silent, hand shoved inside your own green lace, your girlfriend swears you follow the same fast rhythm on your own cunt cause you'll always be the insatiable rabbit, the tortuous monster who cannot get enough.
she's not aware of the video no longer, even when she keeps recording it in what should be a decent angle vi can see the moment you make her underwear to the side, hand that forces the cotton as the other one spread her pussy lips further apart just to make it easier to see, gather some saliva in your mouth until you spit and the contact is enough to have vi getting crazy.
"stay still," she'd do anything you say without questioning, dry mouth as your thumb pushes against her hole, "they will hear us vi, do you want us to stop?"
"mm--no, no-"
its hotter than-fucking-ever. mouth closing against her big clit,taking it all in. lips surrounding her button, pink bush sticking to your face. you use two fingers at first slowly sinking them into her cunt, and you do it so damn good, so fucking nice when you work her to take them entirely, knuckles in, fingers slightly curved so they can hit that delicious spot you know by memory, entirely yours.
bad luck.
bad luck.
bad luck.
awfully loud, painfully unaware of her own self, when vi cums her body shakes uncontrolled, a fever that's impossible to sweat out when she feels you everywhere, soft lips that kiss her folds, gentle tongue that licks up and down, fingers that keep her stuffed, you never ease yourself even when the high comes in waves that drag her to the center of the earth. red face that matches the pink of her hair, mouth that hangs open, you have her, right? she leans on you cause you will always have her.
soft skin, the dressing room's silent and you thank for how sensitive violet can be, how desperate she is to cum, how easy it turns to please her.
so when you get a dirty look from the workers in the shop ten minutes after? fuck them, she owe it to you right? from that time she masturbated in the bathrooms of that same shopping mall — dude.
she's so getting banned from ever entering the mall again: the lesbian pervert with a stupid wet boot and a nice video she'll jerk to later.
SYNOPSIS: Vi never imagined attending her first Pride parade would leave such a mark on her.
WC: 2k | CW: no use of y/n, this is just pure fluff
a/n: this sickly sweet fic is part of the pride & bloom collection! requests are open if you want to hop in and show our girlies some love during this month.
Bass thumps through the pavement beneath your shoes, mixing with bursts of laughter, whistles, and the occasional shout from somewhere up ahead. Rainbow flags flutter between buildings, bright against the summer sky, while crowds pour through the streets in every direction.
Vi shoves her hands in her pockets as she takes in the sight in front of her. She had never been to Pride before. Not because she didn’t want to, but because life kept getting in the way. She was too busy surviving, and that left little room for any sort of celebration, let alone a parade crowded with unapologetically happy people.
Her gaze drifts over the sea of color stretching down the avenue. Couple walking hand in hand, friends dancing to music spilling from speakers, people waving giant rainbow flags and others cheering loudly.
It’s an unfamiliar sight, not because she’d never seen queer people or loved another woman before. But seeing others existing without any fear, without the need to hide or look over their shoulders? It hits deep in her chest.
“It’s pretty impressive, right?”
Your voice finally pulls her back to the present. Vi glances over at you, finding you already watching her instead of the parade.
“Yeah,” a smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “S’cool.”
“You nervous?”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Please. I’ve survived prison fights.”
The words come easily, the same way they always do whenever she’s trying to brush something off. But you don’t look convinced, not even for one second. Vi fights the urge to fidget under your gaze, really hoping you’ll let it go before you manage to see through her.
The thing is, she is nervous, and she feels ridiculous about it. She’s fought people twice her size, faced down armed enforcers, survived years she never should have survived at all. A crowder parade shouldn’t make her stomach twist itself into knots. Yet, she can’t shake the strange feeling sitting heavy in her chest.
Her eyes drift back to the crowd. To the women holding hands without hesitation, the couples wrapped in pride flags, the older woman laughing just as her wife pulls her into a dance in the middle of the street.
The sight makes her chest ache in a way she doesn’t understand. Not because they’re together or because they look head over heels in love, but because they’re older. Grey hairs, smile lines, years written across their faces.
For so long, Vi had never allowed herself to think that far ahead— life had taught her not to. She’d worried about tomorrow when tomorrow arrived. Anything beyond that felt dangerous, like tempting fate. So, she got used to focus on the next day, the next fight, the next problem around the corner. Thinking about the future had always felt like a luxury meant for somebody else.
But all around her are people who look like they’ve made it. People who found someone and got to keep them to build a life together. The realization settles beneath her ribs, because for the first time, she finds herself wondering what growing old with someone would be like, to stop surviving long enough to actually live.
Before she can dwell on it for too long, you reach for her hand.
“Hey,” your voice is gentler now, thumb brushing against her knuckles. She didn’t even notice how tightly she was clenching her fist. “You okay?”
Vi glances down and stares at your joined hands for a moment. She allows herself to just enjoy the warmth of your fingers wrapped around hers.
She squeezes your hand back. “I’m okay.”
You take a small step closer, your free hand rummaging through bag. A few seconds later, you pull your hand back out, something wrapped around your fingers.
“Here.”
Your fingers brush against her skin as you carefully fasten a bracelet around her wrist. Small beads in shades of orange, white and pink catch the sunlight when you pull back. There’s a tiny charm hanging from it, and Vi lifts her hand to inspect it more closely. Her heart skips a bit as she takes a good look at it— it’s your initial.
“I made ‘em last night,” a shy smile spreads across your face as you lift your own hand. “We’re matching.”
An identical bracelet sits there, except for the small golden V dangling from it.
The matching bands aren’t even fancy, the beads aren’t perfectly aligned, hell— one of them even looks slightly crooked. And somehow, that only makes it better, because you made it for her.
Warmth settles in her chest, pushing against the strange ache that had been living there since you arrived at the parade. Her thumb brushed over the tiny charm, your initial, and a grin spreads across her face before she can stop it.
“It’s the prettiest bracelet I’ve ever owned,” she starts, and there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes when she looks back at you again. “Pretty cheesy, though.”
Your jaw drops. “Cheesy?”
“Very.”
“You gotta be kidding me,” you point accusingly at her wrist. “Take it off then.”
Vi immediately wraps her hand around the bracelet, taking a small step back as she looks at you with an offended expression.
“I’m never taking it off.”
The grin that spreads across your face is impossible to miss.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of color, music, and laughter.
You drag her from booth to booth, stopping to admire handmade crafts, sample food from street vendors, and buy enough stickers to cover an entire wall. At some point, a volunteer paints a tiny rainbow on Vi’s cheek. She pretends to hate it, but the dozen photos she let you take of her suggest otherwise.
The parade is louder than she expected. Cheers erupt from every corner of the street, music spills from passing floats, strangers dance together as if they’ve known each other their whole lives. Normally, crowds like this would put her on edge and she’d be scanning every exit, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It’s in those overwhelming moments when her fingers drift to the bracelet wrapped around her wrist. Her thumb brushes over your initial in a small, absentminded gesture. Every time she touches it, the warmth in her chest returns.
For the first time in a long time, Vi finds herself enjoying the moment without worrying about what might go wrong or wondering when it will end. She laughs when you pull her into a dance she swears she doesn’t know, steals bites from your food when you aren’t looking, and lets you take picture after picture, even when she complains about every single one.
And every time she catches the sight of the grin on your face, she finds herself smiling right back.
By the time the sun begins to sink lower in the sky, painting the streets gold, the crowds have started to thin. You walk side by side, your hands brushing occasionally as you make your way away from the parade route.
The day settles comfortably between you with that kind of silence that only exists when you’re with the right person. Vi’s thumb catches on the bracelet again, and you notice. A soft smile takes over your lips as you bump against her shoulder lightly.
“You’ve been playing with that thing all day.”
“It’s my favorite thing in the world,” Vi glances down at the bracelet, smiling with such tenderness it makes your heart ache.
You chuckle at her statement, and the sound makes her heart skip a bit. She looks over her shoulder, watching the last of the festival-goers pass by. The families, the friends, the couples…
She exhales quietly. “I think I get it now.”
You glance at her, eyes slightly furrowed with confusion.
“Get what?”
Vi hesitates because she’s not used to being vulnerable out loud. At least, not in the middle of the street. But she looks back once again, toward the flags still waving in the distance and the people who had spent the entire day celebrating who they were without apology.
A lump forms unexpectedly in her throat.
“Pride.”
Your expression softens, fingers curling around hers as you listen intently.
“I always thought it was just…” She gestures vaguely. “Y’know, music, big party, lots of hot people on the street.”
“And now?” you prompt, eyes never leaving her face.
Vi swallows as she tries to turn her overwhelming train of thought into a coherent sentence. Now she thinks about the older couple dancing in the street, about the countless hands she’d seen intertwined throughout the day, about the future, about belonging… about you.
“Now I see is people getting to be happy,” her grip on your hand tightens softly. “People getting to love who they love and not have to hide it.”
She pauses for a second. Then, a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.
“And maybe it is about realizing there’s a place for us, too.”
Your eyes fill with so much affection it nearly knocks the breath from her lungs. Before she can mutter anything else, you step closer. Close enough that she can catch the faint scent of sunscreen lingering on your skin, mixed with whatever sweet drink you’d been carrying around all afternoon.
Your hand rises to her cheek, and the rest of the world begins to blur. The tiny rainbow has started to fade, but she still feels your thumb brush across it.
You lean in, your lips finding hers with such tenderness it makes her knees weak. The kiss is slow enough for Vi to feel every part of it— the warmth of your mouth, the way your fingers curl against her jaw, the quiet sigh you let out when she leans back into you.
All day she’d been watching people celebrate love without fear, and now she finally gets it. She’s certain that she doesn’t have to earn her place beside you, she doesn’t have to fight for it, she’s allowed to be loved.
You pull back first, only far enough to rest your forehead against hers. Her hands find your automatically, fingers intertwining as the bracelets on your wrist shift with the movement.
Vi opens her eyes and finds you smiling at her, a smile so full of love it makes her chest ache all over again.
“I love you,” you whisper, thumb tracing over her cheek.
The lump returns to her throat, but she doesn’t try to swallow it down now. Instead, she squeezes your hand.
“I love you,” and she means it.
For the first time, the future doesn’t feel frightening. It feels worth looking forward to.
“…you’re a big sap.”
Vi groans immediately, hands grabbing your waist as she lets her head drop backwards. “Oh, c’mon.”
“You got emotional and it almost made me cry,” you grin, pulling her closer. When she glances back at you, she notices your teary eyes.
“I did not get emotional.”
“You should totally do next year’s Pride speech.”
Her face immediately drains of color. “There’s no fucking way.”
You laugh, the sound bright and carefree as you begin pulling her down the street.
“Please! You’d be great.”
“No.”
“You could talk about belonging.”
“No.”
“The future? Or at least give the girls some lesbian sex tips?”
Vi nearly trips over her own feet. “Okay, that’s enough.”
Your laughter only grows louder. She rolls her eyes, but smiles despite herself and lets you guide her down the street. Vi’s fingers brush against the bracelet wrapped around her wrist one last time, your initial catching against her thumb. It’s a small, simple detail, yet it somehow feels like everything.
Maybe Pride is about celebration. Maybe it’s about community. Or maybe it’s about love. But as she looks at you, chuckling beside her with your matching bracelet glinting in the sunlight, Vi thinks it’s also about finding your people, about finding your place.
And finally realizing you were never outside of it. You were just waiting for someone to take your hand and lead you home.
summary: ellie is helping you move out of your place and into hers. the process is stressful, so she helps you relax.
a/n: this is another fic inspired by an old req i took an eternity to write, so shoutout to whoever requested ellie and reader using tape during sex. mwah! divider by @strangergraphics <3
your apartment looks bare. naked. after countless hours spent packing your life into boxes, the once-cozy living room is nothing but four white walls and dozens of cardboard boxes, all the personality and vibrancy stripped from the place.
ellie’s helping you pack, her hair pulled into a haphazard bun. there’s a slight sheen of sweat on her freckle-kissed forehead, which she swipes away with the back of her hand before she resumes taping up a box labeled misc tv stand stuff.
when she’s done, she lets out a sigh, patting the now-sealed box. “y’know, i could really go for some pizza right now.”
“god, yes,” you respond as you scribble living room onto another box. your stomach growls as if it heard you talking. “but I still have so much shit to pack.”
“which is why pizza delivery is a thing,” ellie says, sidling up to you. she loops an arm around your waist to pull you close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “you need a break, anyway.”
though you won’t admit it aloud, she’s right. you’ve been up since daybreak, scrambling around your apartment to get as much packing done as possible. and while you’ve made great progress, you’re completely drained. you lean into ellie’s touch, melting into her side.
“fine,” you say, not needing much convincing. “just make sure to order extra pineapple on the pizza.”
ellie makes a disgusted face, nose wrinkling. “you’re sick. actually, let’s unpack your stuff, i don’t think you’ll be moving in with me after all.”
“you ass.” you give her a shove, rolling your eyes despite the smile on your face. “shut up, you basically begged me to move in with you.”
“yeah, yeah,” ellie scoffs, though she notably doesn’t deny the accusation. she slips her phone out of her back pocket and pulls up the pizza delivery app. a few clicks later, the order has been placed, and you unravel from ellie’s arms to return to your packing duties. she huffs, following you to a stack of books in one corner of the living room. “i thought we agreed to take a break.”
“we’ll take a break when the pizza’s here,” you respond, handing her a few paperbacks and gesturing towards an empty box at ellie’s side. she lowers the books into the box, then takes the rest of the pile from your hands to pack up. as you scan the room for something productive to do, ellie tapes up the newly filled box, her eyes flickering over your exhausted frame. excited as she is to live with you, ellie can see that the moving process is taking its toll. you really do need to take a break from packing… and, you know what? she’s got an idea to get you to relax.
“c’mere,” ellie says suddenly, bringing you out of your internal inventory of the apartment. she crooks a finger at you, beckoning you closer, and when you oblige, she places two steadying hands on your hips.
“what is it?” you ask, blinking at her.
“have you ever had sex on the floor?”
you let out a surprised laugh. “ellie, what?”
“genuine question,” ellie says. “have you?”
“well, uh… no. i haven’t.”
lips quirking into a smile, ellie asks, “wanna try it?”
and that’s how you end up sprawled out naked on the hardwood floor of your living room, a star wars blanket the only barrier between you and the cold flooring as ellie traces the folds of your cunt with her tongue.
now that your living room is significantly empty of furniture, there’s a bit of an echo. that’s proven to be unhelpful in stifling the sounds ellie pulls out of you with her mouth between your legs, so every moan that leaves your lips is amplified to an absurd volume - you’re positive your neighbors can hear you getting wrecked. still, ellie’s tongue on your clit is so blindingly good, you can’t help but cry out every time she makes contact with the sensitive bundle of nerves. after a particularly drawn-out, almost pornographic moan, ellie breaks away from her place between your thighs.
“fuck, you’re loud,” she rasps under her breath. “am i gonna need to use some of that?”
she nods towards the roll of duct tape on the floor beside you, last used to tape up the box of books ellie had packed earlier.
it’s a joke. you know it’s a joke.
but the thought of ellie taping your mouth shut to keep you quiet as she fucks you brainless… it stokes a fire in your lower belly, your already-drenched cunt somehow getting wetter.
“el, please,” you murmur, sounding just as needy as you feel.
she fixates on you with those gorgeous hazel eyes, lust clouding her gaze as she appraises the sight of your naked body splayed out for her, your cunt already shiny with your arousal and her saliva. when she imagines you with that pretty mouth taped shut, letting her fuck you open with her fingers as you moan weakly behind the barrier of the tape, her clit throbs with need. she reaches for the tape, rips off a chunk, and turns toward you with a questioning look.
“you sure?” she asks. her free hand moves to brush a loose strand of hair out of your face.
you nod your assent, and ellie smothers you with one last searing kiss before she smooths the tape against your mouth. she settles between your legs again, peppering kisses over the supple skin of your inner thighs, and you sink a hand into her hair, scratching gently at her scalp as her mouth moves closer and closer to where you need her most. she presses a chaste kiss to your swollen clit, and that alone has you moaning behind the tape.
“so sensitive,” ellie murmurs. she kisses your clit again, then laves at the sensitive bud with her tongue to draw another moan from deep in your chest. you tighten your grip on ellie’s hair as she laps at your folds greedily, the filthy, wet sounds of her mouth on your sex making you dizzy. she has you like that for what feels like hours, hands on your hips to hold you in place, face buried between your legs. every swipe of her tongue over your clit leaves you shivering, hips jolting, and ellie moans into the wetness of your cunt every time she feels you clench against her mouth. you’re already hurtling quickly towards the edge, the pressure in your lower belly growing with every motion of ellie’s tongue. when she slips her middle finger into your heat, meeting no resistance, she hisses your name under her breath.
“fuck,” she grunts. “you’re soaked, baby.”
all you can do is moan in response, the sound muffled by the tape. ellie coos, “shhh, i know. let me take care of you.”
she works a second finger into your entrance, cursing under her breath again as you clench around both of her digits. spurred on by the sensation, she scissors her fingers inside you, stretching you further, and you rock your hips as if to encourage her to move faster. she obliges, quickening the thrusts of her fingers as her mouth returns to your puffy clit. ellie lets a string of saliva dribbles from her mouth to your cunt, and she spreads the glob of spit with her tongue, circling your clit until your moans grow high-pitched and desperate, every sound you make spurring her on. she fucks you with her fingers at a relentless pace, the stretch tantalizing, and her mouth is pure sin as she sucks at your clit, desperate to make you come.
and when you finally do, it’s with a broken, punched-out moan muffled with tape, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you reach your orgasm. your thighs cage ellie’s head between them, her mouth still latched onto your clit as you gush around her fingers, and she fucks you through every last wave of pleasure that washes over you, her brow furrowed in concentration.
when you go limp in her arms, ellie pulls back, fingers leaving the warmth of your cunt. she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes on you.
“this didn’t seem to help much,” she says as she slowly peels the strip of tape from your mouth. “but honestly? that was hot.”
your cheeks burn. ellie grins at the embarrassed look on your face, then kisses you soft and sweet. “i mean it. we should do that again sometime.”
“i’m not opposed to it,” you admit, chewing at the corner of your lip.
just as ellie moves in for another kiss, there’s a knock at the door.
“shit, the pizza,” she says, rushing to stand up and scrambling to find her clothes - all she’s got on is a pair of boyshorts. too relaxed to move, you wrap yourself up in the star wars blanket, watching ellie hop to the door as she tries to put on her sweatpants one leg at a time. she fumbles for the cash in her pocket, opens the door, and exchanges pleasantries with the delivery person.
turns out she did not, indeed, order extra pineapple.
