i support trans people! and gay people! and lesbian people! and bisexual people! and pansexual people! and aroace people! and intersex people! and people by literally any label on the face of the earth! I love all of you and happy pride month!
please for the love of god let me be a free use bunny for a handsome butch.
i want to lie around all cute and comfy, until they pat their leg out of nowhere.
‘cmere bun i’m in a mood, need your help’
i’d be up in a heartbeat, eyes all wide and eager. so ready to relieve whatever ache they’re feeling. i’d crawl to them, nuzzling my cheek into their thigh and batting my eyelashes, mumbling sweetly into the fabric of their pants as my fingers toy with their belt buckle.
Ellie would sigh, brows creased into a furrow as her palms found way to your hips. Her lips were moist with her own saliva, only being freed from the grasp of her teeth when the occasional whimper slipped through her throat, filling the air, and motivating your already confident thrusts against her thigh.
Ellie dosnt know what to think.
This is the exact opposite of the character you play during class: quiet, shy, nerdy, and reserved.
But now that she was eye to eye with your tits, which bounced effortlessly with every shameless thrust you gave to her thigh, she really began to rethink herself.
Her fingers pressed into the fat of your hips, reveling in the feel of your own wrapping around her neck, completely melting at the feeling of the hair at the nape of her neck getting twirled around your digits.
The wet in her boxers don’t go unnoticed, her own hips rolling against nothing in hopes to find the friction that she oh so desperately needed.
But this sight of you was enough.
She tilted her head up to get a good look at your expression, and immediately, her world stopped spinning. Or sped up, she couldn’t quite tell. Either way, you looked like a constellation in an otherwise empty night sky. It baffled her, how confident you were with her when she didnt even know what your voice sounded like two weeks ago.
Oh, but now it’s the only sound hitting her ears.
“Mmh-feels good, yeah? You’re so fucking loud.” Ellie would tease, before attaching her lips to your neck, sucking harshly at your pulse—which beat rapidly against her tongue.
“Ellie…” came as a pathetic whimper, tilting your head to give her easier access to your skin, breathy sighs and moans following suit as Ellie’s hands traveled up your back beneath your shirt.
Each moan of her name only boosted Ellie’s ego, humming strings of pleasure against your neck as her lanky fingers unclasped your bra.
Her mouth then finally pulled off from your neck with a wet pop, revealing an actively darkening bruise that she knew would last a good while.
It was then when she noticed how your movements were growing frantic, speeding up against her as your breath shook with every inhale you took. How each grind against her was not as smooth as before, how your fingers were now tugging at the hairs they once played with.
You haven’t even been at this for long.
Ellie smirked, palms sliding back down to lay atop your hips, rocking you back and fourth to make sure your movements didn’t stop. “You gunna come?” She’d speak so casually as if the flame in her lower belly wasn’t growing hotter by the second.
“Ahh—Ellie! I’m close! Imsofuckingclose—!”
Your forehead plopped against her shoulder, your release hitting you tenfold—sticky warmth filling your pants and dampening Ellie’s own as she continued to guide your hips back and forth.
Tears brimmed your eyelids as overstimulation took its place, clenching around nothing as Ellie started moving you with her, now in sync, her hums growing into needy whimpers as she neared the edge.
Before she new it, the coil in her belly exploded, pleasure shooting up her spine as her own release leaked from her cunt.
here, have a lil blurb about backshots with ellie bc i crave her carnally. as always, 18+ mdni!
ellie’s breathing is ragged, feral.
her chest heaves, heart thumping wildly as she thrusts her hips forward, her strap buried to the hilt in your greedy cunt. each time she pulls out and slams right back in, you loose a pathetic little whine or a desperate whimper of her name, something that conveys just how badly you want her to keep wrecking you. and every sound you make sends another rush of arousal straight to her core; she’s so wet she’s leaking down her thighs as she fucks you from behind. but she’s not worried about her own pleasure right now - that can wait. right now, she’s focused on carving a place for her strap inside your cunt.
“taking me so well,” ellie rasps, rough hands squeezing your hips to hold you in place. she watches your cunt swallow her strap again and again, mesmerized by the way you split open to accommodate her.
all you can manage in response is a weak, punched-out groan, your cheek pressed to the pillow as ellie has her way with you.
“can’t even speak, huh?” ellie taunts, and though you can’t see her face, you can picture the smug grin on her lips. “am i making you feel that good?”
she pistons into you harder, hips snapping sharply against the soft swell of your ass. you cry out, tears stinging in your eyes, and your back curves into a deeper arch. ellie hisses, her fingertips digging further into your hips. you’re positive she’s going to leave bruises.
the saliva pooled in your mouth leaks out from your open lips and onto the pillow. your body is alight with pleasure, limbs tingling, belly swirling with arousal, and ellie admires the sight of you beneath her, so pliant and desperate to be used.
when she suddenly stops her punishing thrusts, you blink blearily, surprised.
“ellie,” you whisper, voice hoarse.
“yeah, princess?” her response is smooth, tone even, and you feel her hand graze over the expanse of your back, goosebumps erupting in the wake of her touch.
too embarrassed to ask for what you need, you push back against her strap, cunt opening smoothly for the silicon to sink in. you’re so wet you can hear every movement, every squelch of the toy moving inside you.
ellie doesn’t seem to get it - she doesn’t move. you huff in frustration, moving your hips forward until only the tip of the strap remains buried inside your cunt. and in one quick motion, you sink back up to the hilt, moaning indulgently at the way the silicon presses up against your g-spot.
you repeat the motion again and again, fucking yourself back onto ellie’s cock as she watches with blown-out pupils. you try to crane your neck back to look at her, to ask her why she isn’t moving, but as you work yourself up to a steady rhythm, the delicious drag of the strap buried deep in your cunt steals the words from your lips.
and ellie just stares, lips parted, her clit throbbing between her legs as you rock your hips back and forth in a quickening pace. your drooling cunt has left a creamy ring of arousal at the base of her strap, and she considers making you suck it clean once you’re done fucking yourself silly.
“atta girl,” ellie says to break the silence. her hands squeeze your hips again, hard enough to sting.
little by little, i've conditioned you to become a dumb witted, thoughtless little slut who loves pulling her panties aside for pussy inspections on command. it didn't start this way. you used to hesitate, used to blush and look away. used to need gentle coaxing.
"come here, baby. let me see." you shy at first, embarrassed. but i was patient. consistent. every single day, asking to see. making it routine. normal.
"show me." until it became automatic. until you stopped thinking about it. now i just have to say the words and you're already moving. already reaching down. already pulling your panties to the side without question. no hesitation anymore. no embarrassment. just obedience.
just that empty-headed compliance i've trained into you. watching your brain shut off the moment i give the command. all thoughts disappearing. just spreading your legs and showing me like the good girl you've become. and you love it now. love how simple it is. love not having to think. love just obeying.
getting wet just from hearing "inspection time, angel." your body responding before your brain even processes it. conditioned so perfectly. trained so well.
i'll be across the room and just say "come here, sweetheart. show me." and you're already walking over. already hiking up your skirt or pulling down your pants. already pulling your panties aside and spreading yourself open for me to inspect.
no questions. no thoughts. just automatic obedience. exactly how i trained you. and i love checking my work. love seeing how wet you are just from following commands. love the glazed look in your eyes. love how dumb and pliant you've become.
my perfect, brainless little slut. inspecting you whenever i want. sometimes multiple times a day. sometimes in public when we're out, pulling you into a bathroom. "show me." you obeying instantly. sometimes first thing in the morning. "let me see how wet you got overnight, baby."
you spreading yourself before you're even fully awake. it's become such a part of your routine you don't even remember what it was like before. can't imagine not showing me whenever i ask. your brain has been rewired. conditioned to obey. to display yourself. to be my mindless little slut who pulls her panties aside on command without a single thought.
ᥫ᭡ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ~ student debt, utilities, rent, groceries. it all piles up and doesn't give you or ellie room to breathe with no prospect of a career in front of you, no matter how hard you've been working during college. until one day the solution comes along with quiet silences and lingering glances that will turn something meant for audiences, into something that's only for the two of you.
ᥫ᭡ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ~ 6.4k
ᥫ᭡ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ~ gf!ellie x camgirl!reader, established relationship, swearing, porn-making, hyperfeminine!reader, struggle with money, pet names (baby, babe), insecurities, kinda perv!ellie (veeeeeryyyy kinda), i guess cam girl with a twist tho (idk you tell me), maybe needy!ellie?, SMUT, masturbation (reader), edging, rough sex, tit play, minor tribbing, fingering (r!receiving), strap-on sex (r!receiving), hair pulling, praise kink, afab!reader, men and minors dni.
likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated ♡
One thing no one ever told you was that life after college would have been this heavy.
You were expecting job offers on your doorstep summoned just by the fact that your grades had always been better than anyone else’s, that you had graduated with honors and relied on your professors’ words when they had told you that you were the kind of person that would have gone places. Stunning ones. So you made the mistake of resting on your laurels and placed all your hopes on the fact that you were good. The best, even.
And that didn’t prepare for this kind of heavy. Not the one that crushes all at once, but the slow, persistent kind. Like the sound of the upstairs neighbor’s leaky sink dripping through the walls in intervals you can’t predict.
You still have your degree at least, although folded into a cardboard box with old notebooks and dried-out highlighters. You have your tiny apartment that always smells like vanilla from your diffuser, your closet full of soft things, like satin bows, tulle-trimmed camisoles, pink mesh panties that feel more like decoration than protection. At the end of the day, if you can’t adorn your life with fancy job titles and bonuses that you were promised so feverishly you can still make yourself feel better by looking pretty.
But—most importantly—you have Ellie.
Ellie, whom you’ve met in your first year of college and never quite were able to get rid of. Not that you wanted, of course. She makes everything feel tolerable: the hard days you spend crying on your shared bed because it’s not fair that you’ve busted your ass off for four years just to end up with a nothing of fact other than an old, now dusted piece of paper you keep tucked away like it doesn’t mean anything anymore. Ellie, who’s always made you laugh so hard with jokes that you once snorted your coffee out of your nose during breakfast, no matter how dumb you like to call them. Ellie, who anticipates every single one of your thoughts, kisses you slowly and loves you deeply, as if she's always known every secret you tried so hard to keep and how to make it feel less heavy.
The only thing that you miss? Money.
No matter how many late shifts Ellie does at that grimy, little bookstore together with filling the rest of her days half-heartedly applying to internships she doesn’t really want. You freelance on and off, commissions when they come through your Etsy shop—because you had to keep at least one hobby alive before losing your mind—and edit essays for other students who still have to graduate and who beg for your help in your DMs.
But it’s never quite enough.
Rent is always due way too soon, Spotify is threatening to cancel your student account, utilities prices have gone over the roof and when you buy groceries you’ve started putting things back, which you don’t tell Ellie but something tells you she already knows.
You were sitting on the bed when it hit you, scrolling in bed with Instagram open in one hand and the other deep down inside a bag of chips. It wasn't so much a lighting bolt idea, but more of a slow unraveling, like a ribbon slipping loose from your hair. The kind that comes wrapped in shame, but also—inevitably and undeniably—in glitter. Maybe struck by the picture glowing before your eyes of this girl you knew from one of your classes and that you remember talking to her friends while you were hunched over your notes waiting for the professor to walk through the door. Except now she wasn’t dressed with jeans or a sweatshirt and complaining about the class you were in and how college would’ve never given her anything but a “stupid title” she would’ve never used, but was dressed in pretty lingerie with a caption that said see you tonight, boys. 👅
You scrolled through photos she posted in baby blue lingerie, grainy clips with soft moans and prettier lighting than porn ever deserved. In some sort of way, it was art. And that was what made that seed of a thought root securely in your brain.
A cam site. For girls. Only girls. Mainly because the mere thought of undressing for a man makes you want to throw yourself into traffic.
So you dropped your phone beside you, dusted off the crumbs of chips from your fingers to grab your laptop and did your research just like you did not even a year ago when you used to spend your days either at the library or holed up in your dorm and it didn’t matter if your eyes were burning and you were awake only thanks to an elevated quantity of energy drinks. Except instead of looking for scientific proofs that could be used on a paper or your thesis and using them to argumentate your stand, you were now looking for something that would allow you not feel like you were drowning in student debt and the pressure of a career that felt only like a mirage in the desert and—more specifically—somewhere you could take your clothes off without showing your face.
Turns out you could and that were entire websites where women performed for other women, no men allowed, the whole thing wrapped in pink fonts and blocky privacy disclaimers and curated profiles made to feel like a secret, a sisterhood, an indulgence. A small rebellion.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, the hum of your laptop fan filling the room as you started typing out the form. You gave a fake name, uploaded a photo—one that you remember sending to Ellie on an early morning after she had left for work. Something tame, just a peek of thigh beneath a silk robe, your lace-covered chest cropped right below the chin. You listed your interests, added a few details and clicked save. Suddenly, your mind started picturing it: tips piling in, late-night streams in your sheer white knee socks and you being finally in control of something, able to give room to breathe even to the girl you loved and that at that moment was probably cursing customers under her breath behind a counter surrounded by returned books and a register that didn’t work more than it did.
The same girl who called you just as you were closing the tab.
You answered in a hush, guilty for no real reason.
“Hey,” Ellie whispered through the phone, voice rough and low like she was halfway between a cigarette and a sigh. “What’re you up to, baby?”
You swallowed. “Just… watching YouTube.”
She hummed, didn’t push, just vented a little about this guy who swore he bought a book from her shop when in reality his receipt clearly stated otherwise. When she hung up, you stared at your screen a moment longer, your reflection caught in the black mirror: lips parted, cheeks pink, your camisole slipping off one shoulder.
You weren’t even sure at that moment if it was worth telling her. At the end of the day it was supposed to be temporary, just until things stabilized and you caught your breath. It’s not even sex anyway: you don’t let people see you safe or talk to you like they own. It’s just you, your body in the soft glow of your bedroom. Performance, pretending. Nothing more.
So you didn't tell Ellie at first. Not when you created the account, not when you picked your name, not when you bought your first new set of lingerie, the one with the white lace and the tiny pink ribbons and the matching bra.
Eventually—though—she found out. Not in the way you feared: there was no fight, no explosion, nothing of that sort. She just came home early one day and the when the door creaked open she found you still smoothing your thighs in front of the camera, smiling to the screen while moaning something sweet and high-pitched, toes curling against your desk chair and wearing a pair of panties she had never seen on you before.
She didn’t say anything in that moment, not on the spot and not even for hours later. The only thing she did was just staring at you for a long second that felt like hours and closed the door behind her while muttering something about preparing dinner. But you saw the look in her eyes: not anger, not even jealousy. Just… something that maybe neither she was able to word right.
It’s been four months since you told Ellie everything and there’s something different about her lately.
She’s quieter, restless, she touches you more and has started staring too long when you’re getting dressed. Sometimes, you caught her scrolling something on her phone just to close it the second you glance over.
It’s not loud or obvious, though. She still kisses you good morning when you shuffle into the kitchen with your eyes barely open; still makes your coffee first, always remembering how you like it—too sweet, barely any bitterness, oat milk frothed like a cloud—and she still curls up next to you during movie nights, legs tangled with yours under the blanket, head tucked in the crook of your neck like nothing’s changed.
Except it has.
It’s in the way her fingers graze your hip when she passes behind you, too gentle to be accidental but too fleeting to be sure. It’s the way her eyes linger on your thighs when you wear that tiny sleep set—the one with the ruffled shorts and the satin ribbon bow right at the waistband, the one you bought for streams but now somehow always slip into when you’re around her.
Even the way she looks when she thinks you’re not looking has changed: not the relaxed, head-in-the-clouds kind of look she always has when she’s home and the world seems to be giving her a moment to forget about all the things she has to do just to keep herself afloat. Now, her gaze is sharper, brighter in a way. Like there’s something boiling in her that she’s trying very hard to keep contained.
But it’s slipping.
And it finally does on a perfectly normal Tuesday, exactly the same as any other would be.
It’s the kind of day where everything feels too quiet, like the city itself is nursing a hangover. Ellie’s off work, which means you’re both home with the curtains drawn halfway against the pale sun that stubbornly tries to peek from behind the clouds outside the window. You’re down on your knees sorting colors from the laundry basket that’s currently overflowing in front of the bed while Ellie sits on the edge of it with one leg tucked underneath her and the other outstretched in front of her, calloused fingers smoothing over satin while folding each piece of clothing like it’s sacred. Maybe because this load was mostly full of your stuff.
She’s never complained about doing this, never rolled her eyes at your pile of pastel, at the tiny bows sewn into the waistband of your underwear. If anything, she lingers too long on them.
You’re probably halfway somewhere else completely—lost between the repeated monotony of folding each corner of fabric towards the middle on one side, then the other, then in half again—becuase when Ellie’s voice fills the room, quiet and low, it almost startles you, your head whipping up to look at her with your brows high.
“You like doing it?” She blurts out.
It’s careful how you place a pair of shorts from the floor onto the pile right in front of you and next to the basket, almost like doing it too aggressively or even casually might disrupt something you can’t quite name. After a second, which feels more like an hour, you finally answer with a quiet, “What?”
“The shows,” she shrugs, green eyes locked down onto her portion of clothing as her hands keep moving. “You like ‘em?”
Your answer takes a little too long to come through, too busy assessing every single expression on her face like that will give you the key to truly understand what she’s really asking for and in that maybe you’ll also find the reason why your girlfriend has changed so much in the past few months.
“I like that it helps,” you answer eventually. “That we can breathe a little easier now.”
Finally, Ellie looks up at you again, her tongue poking the inside of her cheek while her hands fall down in her lap. “That’s not what I asked,” she breathes.
Leaning back on your hands, legs coming up with your knees bent, you let out a long sigh, the kind that doesn’t hide how much you’re being careful in weighing your words. “Yeah,” you admit, looking down, eyes fixed on your thighs. “I do. It’s… fun, sometimes. Makes me feel powerful.”
The silence that follows is deafening, more than any questioning would probably ever be. Because that’s the thing. Ellie has never made you feel like you should’ve hid it, not even when she found out at first and fell silent for hours. It was never about judgment, never about being jealous or possessive, but rather about something you—even after so many years spent together through exam seasons and thesis and barely managing to keep your heads above the waters at the end of every single month—can’t quite understand. Doesn’t matter if you’re one of the few people who can confidently say to know her like the back of your hand. So silence, in this case, only seems like proof that this is a part of her you can’t quite reach.
But then—
“I’ve been watching ‘em.”
Your head snaps up, legs falling onto the fall beneath you once more as you straighten up. “Ellie—”
“I needed to,” she cuts in, voice quieter now, but lower, almost guttural. “I was going insane not knowing.” Another breath in, another breath out, finally meeting your eyes. “You’re so different in ‘em. The stuff you do there it’s not what… we do.”
“I—” you whisper, but the words don’t come out. They just stay stuck in your throat, locked up just like your whole body is. And you don’t really understand if she’s saying all these things because she’s hurt somehow, or because she hates it, or because god knows what else. Whatever it is, you don’t seem to be able to exactly pinpoint it.
“You don’t have to explain why,” she continues, almost breathless as she twists the strings of her sweatpants like maybe she’s able to find the right words by pulling cotton and elastic. “It’s just—we’ve been together for years and I—I never let myself go there with you. I was so careful. I didn’t want to mess it up. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You’d get all shy and I didn’t wanna push. I thought—thought soft was good. And it was, babe, it was.” She leans forward, elbows on her knees, and you swear your pulse echoes in your ears. “But now I see you on that chair doing all that thing for strangers and all I can think about is why you won’t do them with me.”
That’s the moment something inside you breaks loose. Have you thought about it before? Of course. Have you ever dared to even suggest doing all of that with Ellie instead of just in front of the camera? Absolutely not. Because no matter how well you know someone, no matter how many times you’ve seen them with or without clothes before, no matter if you’ve shared with them things you would’ve never thought of sharing with anyone else… there’s always going to be something stopping you from sharing certain things. The most intimate ones, the ones you’re afraid are going to be criticized. So you kept quiet, refrained from even thinking about putting them on the table and reserved them for a corner on the internet where nobody knows you and no one will judge you for them. So you kept being soft, because that’s what you thought your girlfriend needed.
And in doing so—maybe—you’ve actually made it worse.
“Of course we can do them,” you murmur, mouth dry. “We can do anything you want.”
“Then why do they get to see you like that and I don’t?”
Silence follows like you’re being punished for all the things you’ve been keeping for yourself, for all the things you didn’t share. All that you can do is just stare at her with your hands fidgeting restlessly in your lap and breathe in and out like every single molecule of oxygen coursing through your nose is requiring way too much effort for something that the body should do on its own.
And Ellie can only take advantage of it by finally saying the things she’s been keeping for herself too.
“I wanna see it,” she adds, her eyes glued on yours while you keep looking up at her through your lashes from your spot on the floor in front of her. “All of it. Wanna see you getting ready, what you do when you’re trying to make them beg. I want you to show me what you do for them—” she stops for just a second, enough to straighten up a little and mask the way her pulse is jumping beneath her chest. “But you’re gonna do it for me.”
There’s another deep exhale coming from you, but it doesn’t last long. You only bite the inside of your cheek and lean forward a little. “Now?”
“Yes,” Ellie replies. “Now.”
The air in the bedroom seems completely changed. Charged in a way that it’s never been, not even during drunk nights coming back from the club when neither you or Ellie could keep your hands off each other. The clothes are back in the basket, some folded, some tossed in a rumple with little to no care at all, lights are low—just the soft, orangy glow that comes from the salt lamp on your nightstand—and the only sound filling the space around you is the one of you moving around the room and the impatient tapping of Ellie’s fingers on the armchair she’s sitting on, legs only partly spread.
You’re taking your time getting ready and not because you’re stalling, not exactly. It’s something else. Something warmer, heavier, sinking slowly in your stomach as you stand in front of the dresser with Ellie’s eyes burning the side of your face, watching every single movement you’re making like it’s the most important thing she’ll ever do today, maybe even the most important she’s done during her entire week. Her eyes trail over the curve of your spine as you lean down to skim out of your shorts, your fingers brushing delicately along the skin of your thighs. You don’t know if it’s all in your head or not, but you swear you actually feel her tensing beside you.
It’s like she’s never seen you naked before, like sex under the stream of your cramped shower has never happened and you’re both back in the darkness of your dorm room trying very hard to be quiet while she was whispering constant check-ins with her fingers inside you. And maybe—to some extent—it is the first time she’s seen you naked, bare in a completely different way than just the matter of skin.
You keep moving though, because this type of intimacy—letting her see what you were the most scared of sharing—is something far more intoxicating than any other substance would be. So you take off the rest of your clothes, fold them messily on the top of the wood in front of you and choose something delicate, almost innocent: white lace with pale pink bows and soft cups that barely cover your nipples, little embroideries sewn where the straps meet your shoulders.
When finally—after a quick look in the mirror and a few adjustments to your hair—you finally look at Ellie, you don’t struggle too much to find the green in her eyes. She’s already looking, already taking in everything like she’s done for the past few minutes and she looks like she’s barely holding in from saying something, or rather… doing it. But instead of addressing it, of asking if she really wants to do this, you just sit on the edge of the bed, right in front of her, hands on your knees and head barely tilted to the side.
“You like it?” you murmur, hands slowly trailing up to skim from your navel to the underside of your tit. “Picked it a few weeks ago…”
Ellie’s throat bobs visibly, hands gripping the edge of the armrests like it’s the only anchor she has and the only thing stopping them from moving to the spots on your body your fingers are grazing over. “Yeah,” she manages.
You tilt your head, lips curving a fraction. “Just ‘yeah’?” You pout, legs spreading excruciatingly slowly as your hand fully cups the swell of your right breast. “Gotta gimme a little more than ‘yeah’, baby. Or I’ll think you don’t like it that much.”
It’s not clear if what comes from the auburn-haired is a scoff or the sound of someone aching, pleading maybe, her eyes fixed somewhere between your collarbone and the way you’re now tracing over your knee. “It’s really fucking pretty on you.”
A hum. “What you like about it?”
“That—uhm—fuck—” Ellie clears her throat, the freckles on her cheeks blending with the flush blooming there. “The way it looks on your tits? And—uh—the panties are pretty, too.”
You huff a small chuckle, finally spreading your legs more, one outstretched, foot arched and barely touching one of her knees to gently spread them as well. “Show me, then,” you encourage. “Show me how much you like it.”
Her brows shoot up suddenly the way they usually do when she’s caught off guard and her brain is a mush of thoughts she can’t quite decipher herself. “Isn’t it… supposed to go the other way around?” She asks, almost innocently.
“Usually,” you shrug, leaning back on your hands. “Trying to make it special for you, though. Don’t you want special?”
There’s a short pause, the kind that tells you clearly she’s finding herself in a battlefield she’s never seen before and that she doesn’t know if to hold her ground or run the opposite direction. So the only thing you can do is giving her a soft smile—something close to reassurance, encouragement—and pull back enough for her to beg for more.
“I’ll give you a head start, hm?” You whisper, voice thick.
It doesn’t take you long after that to retreat further back on the bed, slowly laying down until your back hits the mattress but only for a short moment—enough for you to lift your hips and drag your panties down your thigh with the slowness of someone who knows exactly how to tease, how to make the other hang by a thread until they’re breaking. When the fabric finally reaches your calf, you sit back up again, taking it into your hands and making it dangle mid-air, watching Ellie’s eyes follow them like it’s a prize she’s not allowed to have yet when you finally drop them at her feet.
“Should I lean back?” You ask sweetly. “Use my fingers? Or… should I come sit on your lap?”
It only takes Ellie a minute before her hands finally move, leaving the armrests with a shaky breath that sounds more like a surrender than anything else. “C’mere,” she pleads, voice low and rough around the edges, the kind of tone you’ve only heard in the middle of the night when she thinks you’re already asleep. “Please.”
You don’t make her ask twice. Instead, you slowly crawl from the bed, the lace of your bra brushing against your skin with every shift as you pad towards her, thighs glistening under the soft glow of the lamp radiating from the corner of the room. You take your time settling in, straddling her lap, hands on her shoulders, leaning in until your breaths mingle and there’s only an inch of space left between the two of you.
Ellie’s hands land on your hips as soon your skin meets the fabric of her sweats, gripping onto your skin as if she still has to understand if this is reality or yet another one of those nights she’s spent with the blue light of the screen of her phone glowing against her face, the nail of her thumb caught between her teeth and your moans loud in her ears through her headphones.
“You’re so fucking hot,” she mumbles, looking up to you with her mouth only slightly parted.
“Yeah?” You chuckle, watching her nod quickly as you give your hips a slow roll, a quiet little sound slipping from your throat.
The space between you closes for only a second, the time it takes you to catch her lower lip between your teeth and making her shudder, whimper so close against your mouth that it warms up your skin, One of your hands falls down from her shoulder, making its way towards her tits from above her hoodie, light as a feather, a torturous game of giving, but never enough. That, until you finally leave the fabrics covering her body to touch yours, skimming down as your eyes stay locked on hers, watching every swallow, every sharp exhale, every instinct she’s trying to keep under control as your fingers finally part your folds, gathering the slick between them and drag it along your slit.
“Eyes down, baby,” you breathe as you start rubbing your clit in lazy, circling strokes.
With a hard swallow, Ellie’s eyes finally drop like she was just waiting for your permission to do so, like it’s taken everything in her to not just watch the spot where your core meets the cotton now slightly damp underneath you. You feel her hands tightening where they’re still resting on your hips, only for them to travel down your thighs, holding firmly between each time she kneads them, leaving red marks on her way enough to pull you closer, guiding your movements so you’re grinding down with more pressure that that only makes your breath hitch in your throat, brows pulled together, mouth hanging open as your forehead comes to rest against hers.
For a long minute, those are the only sounds that fill the room: your moans against her mouth, the chair creaking beneath both your bodies with her roll of your hips against your own hands and Ellie’s ragged breathing that’s growing faster every single time your middle finger grazes your clit.
Until—just as you feel that familiar heat coiling, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, just before as your muscles tense and your back arches while your other hand is digging into her shoulder—you stop. Abruptly and unexpectedly, lifting your hand from your centre and laying it lightly at her waist.
Ellie’s eyes shoot up immediately, pupils blown like she was getting off only by watching you like that sitting in her lap. “Why’d you stop?” She asks quickly. “Please don’t stop.”
You press a soft kiss on her jaw, laughing softly against her pulsepoint as you trail lower. “Not yet,” you tease, breathless. “I told you I was just gonna give you a headstart.”
Slowly, but surely, you climb off her despite her best efforts to desperately keep you there although her hands fall uselessly at her knees as you step backwards with your lips twitching upwards—one of them caught between your teeth—until the back of your legs hits the bedframe behind you. And Ellie? Elie just stares at you like you’ve just deprived her of something sacred, like stopping in that moment took away from her something she had been fantasizing for months and she was so close to finally hold between her hands. Something you’ve snatched away like she hadn’t been fantasizing about this moment since she saw you on that chair with your fingers deep inside you in front of your laptop and that had only felt like she would’ve never got to have.
And you did it easily, like it was part of the game. Maybe for you it was.
Which is exactly what makes the last thread inside her snap. Visibly, in how quickly her hands clench against her legs, how her eyes darken and how—before she probably even realizes it—she stands, taking one step closer, than the other, before there’s once more barely any space left between the two of you and you can hear how sharp her breathing is. But it doesn’t last long. Because before you can even realize it, her mouth is crashing on yours, tongue parting your lips before stroking yours with the kind of intensity that makes you dizzy, molten, a surprised whimper falling from your lips as you fall back onto the mattress.
Ellie follows, quickly, frantic, like there’s little time in the world for her to actually touch you like she truly wants to. Her clothes come off in a rush, discarded on the floor like they carry no importance when she has you beneath her and her hands are back on your body, reaching behind your back to take off the last thing that’s between her and feeling you entirely.
“Take this off,” she pants, fumbling with the clasps of your bra as her knee presses more firmly against your centre. “Need to see you. Please, baby.”
You reach behind with a soft, breathless laugh, arching your back just enough to help her. The lace slips down your arms and she doesn’t even wait for it to hit the sheets: her mouth is on you the second your tits are bare, lips wrapping around one nipple while her hand palms the other, making your back bow off the mattress further, a quiet moan spilling from your lips as your fingers thread through her auburn hair, holding her there.
Ellie groans against your skin, sucking harder, teeth grazing just enough to send sparks down your spine while her free hand slides between your bodies, two fingers dragging through your folds, gathering the slick that’s been building before she pushes them inside you. It’s slow at first, then deeper, curling perfectly, exactly the way she knows you like to fall apart.
You gasp, thighs falling open wider around her as she starts pumping her fingers in a steady rhythm, her palm pressing against your clit with every thrust. At the same time her hips roll against your thigh, heat sliding along your skin, leaving a wet trail that makes everything feel slick and messy as her breaths come in hot little pants against your chest, each one shaky with how desperately she’s grinding down on you, chasing friction.
“God… you’re so wet,” she mumbles against your breast, voice thick and rough, barely pulling her mouth away long enough to speak. “You’re mine, right, babe?.”
You nod quickly, a broken sound escaping you when she adds a third finger, stretching you open just right. Your hips buck up to meet her hand, one leg hooking around her waist to pull her closer, feeling every roll of her hips against your thigh, the way her clit catches against your skin with every desperate movement.
Ellie’s mouth switches to your other nipple, sucking and licking like she can’t get enough, her fingers never slowing. The room fills with the wet sounds of her hand working between your legs, your quiet whimpers, and the creak of the bed beneath you both. You can feel how close she is already: the way her hips stutter against your thigh, the little tremors running through her body every time she grinds down harder.
Then—without warning—she pulls her fingers out.
A whine leaves your throat at the sudden emptiness, but Ellie is already moving, strong hands gripping your hips and flipping you onto your stomach in one smooth, urgent motion, your cheek pressed into the sheets as she settles behind you, knees pushing your thighs apart. You hear the familiar sound of the nightstand drawer opening, the soft rustle of straps and then the quiet click of the harness being fastened.
Ellie’s hand smooths down your back, almost reverent for half a second, before her fingers dig into your hips again, pulling you up onto your knees until you feel the cool silicone of the strap press against your entrance, teasing, sliding through your folds once, twice, coating itself in your wetness.
“Tell me you want it,” she breathes, voice low and strained, the head of the strap nudging insistently against you. Her chest is pressed to your back now, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Tell me you want me to fuck you like this.”
You push back against her, needy and aching, fingers twisting in the sheets.
“Please, yes, Els…” you whisper, voice trembling with how badly you need her inside you. “Fuck me.”
She doesn’t make you wait any longer.
With one slow, deep thrust she pushes inside, filling you completely, a shared groan falling from both of you as your walls clench around the thick silicone. Her hips stutter for a moment, like she’s trying to hold herself together before she starts moving—deep, steady rolls that make the harness press perfectly against her clit with every thrust, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room along with your muffled moans into the mattress and Ellie’s desperate, breathless curses against your shoulder.
But steadiness and softness don’t last for long.
Ellie’s hand slides up your back, fingers twisting into your hair until you’re arching back, making the strap sink even deeper, the thick head dragging against that spot inside you that has your fingers scrambling for purchase in the sheets.
“Fuck— Ellie,” you cry out, the sound of it getting lost into another moan. “Feels—feels so fucking good. Keep going.”
She answers with a low, broken sound and snaps her hips forward harder, sharp and sudden, the pace turning ruthless almost instantly, each thrust punching the air out of your lungs and despite how the base of the strap is catching just right against her clit in a way that’s making her whimper behind you, she doesn’t slow down. If anything, she fucks you harder, one hand gripping your hip so tightly you know you’ll see traces of them tomorrow, the other still fisted in your hair for leverage while every thrust jolts through your whole body, your breasts press into the cool sheets, nipples tight and sensitive from the friction, while the silicone drags along your walls.
Ellie fully leans over you, chest flush against your back, her breath hot and ragged against the nape of your neck as her forehead presses against the back of her hand, the other snaking now underneath you, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, relentless circles that match the rhythm of her hips.
“You’re so hot like this,” she pants, voice wrecked, lips brushing your skin with every word. “You’re taking it so well, my good girl.”
A broken moan tears from your throat as she angles her hips just right, the strap hitting that perfect spot over and over until your legs start to shake, the pressure building fast and overwhelming, your walls fluttering wildly around the silicone as your fingers twist tighter in the sheets, knuckles white, mouth open in a silent cry as the coil in your stomach winds tighter and tighter as her fingers on your clit never falter, rough and perfect, pushing you closer to the edge with every circle.
“Come on, baby,” she breathes, voice strained and desperate, teeth grazing your shoulder. “I know you’re close. Let me feel you.”
The words—raw and hungry—tip you over.
Your orgasm crashes through you hard, sudden and blinding, muscles clamping down around the length of the strap as pleasure rips up your spine. A choked sound spills from your lips, body shaking beneath her as your hips jerk back against her, riding out every wave while she keeps moving through it, dragging it out until you’re trembling and oversensitive, mumbling soft curses into the sheets as her breathing grows more ragged, broken little whimpers falling against your neck while the edge of the strap catches against her clit.
“Fuck—I’m so close,” she gasps, voice cracking, her movements turn erratic, shorter and harder. “Shit—”
One final, deep thrust and Ellie comes with a guttural moan, hips grinding desperately against you as her whole body shakes. You feel every pulse of it through the way her thighs tremble against the backs of yours, the way her fingers dig bruisingly into your hip as she rides it out.
For a long moment the only sounds in the room are your shared heavy breathings and the faint creak of the bed as Ellie’s weight slowly settles over you, both of you slick with sweat and trembling. She presses a soft, almost reverent kiss to the back of your shoulder, lips lingering there as her breathing slowly evens out. Her hand slides up your side, gentle now, tracing lazy patterns over your ribs like she’s reminding herself this is real, that she’s still allowed to touch you like.
Eventually, she pulls out carefully, the loss making you both sigh before she finally slips the harness off, tossing it carelessly back inside its drawer. One moment later, and she’s collapsing beside you on the mattress, tugging you against her chest without a word with your leg draping over hers as her fingers thread through your hair, still slightly damp at the roots.
After a minute of quiet, her chest vibrates with a low chuckle. “So…” she starts, voice hoarse and amused, “that was supposed to be my private show, huh?”
You tilt your head up just enough to catch the lazy grin spreading across her freckled face, one eyebrow raised like she’s proud of herself for the pun.
You huff a tired laugh, burying your face back into the crook of her neck and nipping at her skin in retaliation. “Private show, my ass,” you mumble against her pulse, smiling. “Next time I’m charging you double for the live audience participation.”
Ellie snorts, the sound turning into a soft groan as she pulls you closer, pressing one last kiss to the top of your head. “Deal. It’ll go into shared groceries either way.”
It’s with another laugh that you nuzzle closer, finally closing your eyes again. And who knows, maybe next time those shows can become something shared. And maybe the tiniest bit less private.
a/n: sooo, hi, hello. i know i said i would've posted it last night but i got a migraine and couldn't finish proof reading this. i kinda wanted to write this for a very long time lmao, this idea lived rent free in my head for months and it's finally out of the drafts. it's slightly out of my comfort zone if i gotta be honest but we all gotta experiment at some point i guess. also, this story in my head had to go in a completely different direction but ended up being the way you've just read it lmaoo. anyway, i hope you enjoyed, lots of love <3
you start dating controversially older girlfriend!sevika not knowing what to expect and she turns out to be a sweetheart... and a freak in the sheets.
warnings: pwp, age gap, drunk sevika gets fucked by you, pre established consent, sevika’s in a dress guys 🥺, clothed sex, implied strap sex where reader dominated sevika, switch!sevika and switch!reader, somno, fluff, emotional vulnerability, fluff + smut, post sex talks and aftercare, reader’s first time dating a woman
word count: 2.3k words
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read on archive.
Your first time going out with her was the only time she worried about the age gap.
“I didn’t think you’d come but now that you’re here, I have no idea what to do.”
You sat there at the passenger side of the car, clutching your purse in hand. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”
“No, you’re like fuckin’ insanely pretty.”
“Oh!” Your cheeks flushed. “Thanks… you’re really good looking too.”
Sevika huffed a laugh and looked ahead, “sure. Where d’y’wanna go?”
You blinked. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothin’.”
You crossed your arms, faking a pout.
“First date and you’re already lying to my face.”
“It’s not…” Sevika grunted and held the steering wheel a bit tighter. “You’re so young, and pretty. And I’m— I feel old in comparison.”
You swallowed. The stark contrast between you both was starting to stand out to your eyes now. You’d never even notice if Sevika didn’t point that out because of how deeply you’d fallen for the other woman.
“Yeah.” You mumbled, reaching out a hand to take hers.
Sevika hesitated for a second but then she let you take her much bigger and scarred hand in yours. “You may be older in comparison, but there’s nothing wrong with that. People will judge anything they see.”
Sevika gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “And you’re a fuckin’ sweetheart, too.”
You giggled. “I try to be.”
Within the few weeks that passed of you both dating, Sevika had grown to trust you more than she’d ever trusted anyone. Consent was preestablished a long time ago.
“You look so good in that dress.” You said, grinning as she walked out of the changing room.
“You sure?” She checked her reflection in the mirror. Skeptical as always. “It’s a bit short.”
“Short is good.” You walked closer and grabbed her ass. “Mmm, plump.”
“Hey!” Sevika swatted your hand away. “There’s people in here!” She whispered.
“And?” You shrugged. “The hickeys on your neck are enough storytime.”
Sevika’s face turned an interesting deep shade of red as she subconsciously ran her fingers over her bruised neck skin. She looked back at her reflection.
“It’s pretty.” You said intently. “It’s very pretty, baby.”
Sevika’s ears pinked slightly at the casual pet name but she didn’t correct you. She didn’t need to. She turned and put your hands on her curvy waist.
“Okay, then. We can get it. Just cause you said it’s pretty.”
“Awww.” You pouted. “We should get it only if you like it though!”
“You like it, so I like it too.” Sevika smiled.
“Okay fine.”
Sevika chuckled and kissed your forehead before going back to the fitting room to put her clothes on. You waited outside, still thinking about how pretty she looked in that dress.
Hair slightly messy from running morning errands, hips and ass plump and accentuated, waist hugged by the shimmery fabric.
You wanted to take her out on a date right that second and spoil her.
Sevika walked out, the dress in hand, “let’s go pay.”
You nodded with a smile, little did Sevika know just how much the dress has affected your little brain.
-
Late that night, Sevika, who’d told you she was going out for some drinks with some friends, turned up outside your door with a drunken expression and slurred speech so bad you could barely even recognise the older woman.
Best of all? She wore the dress.
“Oh goodness.” You giggled and helped her in, “you wore that to get drinks with your friends?” You asked, stifling laughter.
“Nuh-uh.”
You blinked. “Hmm?”
“Wore it after I got back, and I thought of you.” She wrapped her arms around you, “so I’m here now!” She said cheerfully.
“Right, right.” You guided her to the couch, “sit her okay? I’ll get you some water.”
You turned. She grabbed your wrist and yanked you down.
“Sev—!”
You landed on her lap, ass on her thighs. She put one arm around your waist and held you there in place, trapped.
“Stay.”
You adjusted yourself to be comfortable. “Yeah? Fuck, you smell like alcohol.”
Sevika grinned before her hand travelled under the edge of your hoodie, warm hand trying to feel your bare body. You caught her wrist.
“Hey, you’re drunk…”
“We talked about this, remember?” Sevika said softly. “If you don’t wanna, tell me and I’ll—”
“No, I do wanna.” You said, letting go of her wrist.
Sevika’s eyes fluttered down to your lips and she slowly leaned in. Warm, dark lips met yours and you kissed her deeply, both hands holding her jaw, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on her skin as she kissed you deeper.
You moved closer, kissing her more as you felt her hand reaching around for your bra strap.
You parted. “Bedroom?”
“Yeah…”
You guided her to your bedroom, opening the door so she could go through. You followed her in and pushed her down before she could even react.
Her drunk mind was too slow to catch on as you straddled her waist and grabbed the spaghetti strap of the dress.
“You look like such a fucking mess right now.” You pulled it down just a bit, “my mess.”
Undressing her would be a struggle so you opted for a substitute. You fucked her clothed. You pulled the edge of the dress up, pushing her panties to the side. She was drenched.
“You’re so needy for me, baby.” You whispered and quickly reached away to get a toy.
You grabbed the first dildo you could find in the little box of sex toys you kept hidden away in your closet, and climbed back between Sevika’s legs. The bulbous head of it pressed against her sopping wet entrance for just a second before with a loud— schlik!— it went inside.
Sevika moaned, loud and deep.
“That’s it, baby. That’s my good girl.” You praised as you worked the dildo in and out of her pussy.
The length of the shaft was covered in her pussy juices within a few seconds of this, her legs spreading out wider to give you more access. You pushed it in all the way to the base before pulling it out entirely.
“Such a good girl for me, you make me wanna reward you all night.”
“Then do so, please…” Sevika slurred.
“I will.”
Your other hand found her clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves until her legs tried to close to try to stop you.
Sevika made a squeak-like sound and squirmed. “That’s too much, t-too much!”
“You can take it, baby.” You said gently and pressed on her clit.
She gasped, grabbing the sheets tightly. Her back raised off the mattress and she came around the dildo.
Your eyes widened slightly. “Oooh, y’came faster than expected.”
She looked away, eyes narrowed, cheeks so flushed she could function as a traffic signal. “I don’t— I’m not… I’m not that sensitive.” She said, voice barely even coherent anymore.
You smirked slightly. “Yeah? You seem pretty sensitive to me tonight. Especially right now.”
“But I’m nooooot!” Sevika insisted.
Wordlessly, you got up, and walked towards the closet again. You were going to dick her down. Right fucking now.
The next morning you stood at the kitchen counter, quietly making breakfast. Yesterday’s memories stuck to you like superglue. You couldn’t forget what had happened. What if you’d taken advantage of Sevika?
You both did talk about this before… but still, it didn’t feel right although in the moment you both seemed to enjoy the sex. You put the plate on a tray and walked to the bedroom.
Sevika was awake, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
“Hey, baby…”
“Hey,” Sevika replied, groggy, “y’sleep well?”
“Yeah.” You sat by her side, and put the tray down. “Did you sleep well?”
“Mhm.” She looked at the tray, then smiled. “You really didn’t have to.”
Her eyes moved to the dress on the floor along with her underwear. For a moment your heart dropped down to your stomach as you watched Sevika slowly remembering everything that happened the night before.
“Baby…” you began, “look, please don’t be mad. I just thought it was okay because we talked about it before and—”
Sevika put her hand over yours, rubbing her thumb on the back of your palm, “hey, I’m not mad.”
“You aren’t?”
“Nah,” she pulled you closer.
The tray rattled a little as the mattress moved.
“It’s a little fucked up.” She said then smirked. “I don’t hate it.”
And with that, she kissed you. Her grip tightened a little on your waist as the kiss deepened. Her other hand caught the side of your neck and moved to the back to anchor your head against her, allowing Sevika to control the kiss.
You both parted. You giggled faintly.
“That’s a nice way to start the morning.”
“Yeah?” Sevika looked at the breakfast tray, “breakfast in bed, huh? You’re spoilin’ me.”
“You deserve to be spoiled every once a while if not all the damn time.” You replied.
“Maybe.”
You huffed a sigh, “something about you makes me wonder if you’ve ever been treated right in your past relationships.”
Sevika reached down to pull the tray up, balancing it on her knees. “I haven’t really dated before.”
You stared at her dumbly. “What?”
“I mean, I did.” She paused. “But those were more like flings than actual relationships.”
“Oh…” you watched her eat quietly, her words sinking in. “So no one’s wanted you for you? It was all just sex?”
Sevika nodded solemnly.
“But you just let them do that?”
Sevika held out a piece of toast for you. You smiled a little and leaned in, biting the edge.
“When you’re alone a lot, you’ll crave company even if it’s just sex.”
For a while, silence settled between you both. You watched her eat quietly, eating whenever she fed you.
“But it’s not just sex with me, right?”
“Oh hell no.” Sevika looked at you right in the eye, “you’re more than sex. You’re more than just a girlfriend to me.”
That made your face heat up a little.
“Oh?”
Sevika’s eyes widened. The gravity of her words dawned on her.
“Y’know what I mean…”
“I don’t.” You said with a playful grin.
“Sure, you don’t…”
“Tell me!” You scooted closer.
Sevika grabbed your chin with one hand and stuffed toast in your mouth with the other, “eat.”
But you knew you’d eventually find out.
-
The afternoon melted into something warmer. It was summertime. You and Sevika were tangled up in bed, bodies bare.
You felt her hand slowly curling around your body, hooking around your waist and bringing you in close. You smiled to yourself in your sleep and let her bring you closer. Her bare breasts pressed against your back. You didn’t care to create distance. You liked the feeling of her warm body against your back.
Sevika moved your legs apart slowly.
Two fingers slowly pumped into your pussy, coercing your wetness to act as lube. You whimpered in your sleep, clutching your pillow as you felt Sevika’s thick digits penetrating your tight hole.
“That’s it, baby. Such a pretty pussy for me.” Her fingers scissored inside, stretching you out.
Something about the way you laid there in bed, all vulnerable to her touch, and didn’t fight back or stir awake— it turned Sevika on more than she could ever explain.
“That’s my baby’s pretty cunt,” she curled her digits again.
Your pussy made a wet sound, clenching subconsciously around her fingers.
Sevika cursed under her breath, you looked so fucking beautiful. Asleep, unaware she was using your body up like this.
“Shit.”
She watched how your clit throbbed. Wetness seeped down your inner thighs and created a little mess on the sheets underneath. Sweat ran down the valley of your tits. If anything that turned Sevika on more.
“Cum for me, pretty…”
It took you only a few seconds to oblige even while you were asleep. You belonged to Sevika, and it was so evident in the way your body listened to her. She pulled her fingers out slowly to watch the way your cum dribbled down her digits. She held them up, watching the liquids string down to your body and trickle down your inner thighs.
“Pretty filthy baby.”
When you came to, Sevika was wiping you clean with a damp towel. She smiled slightly when she watched you rubbing the sleep out of your eyes using the heel of your palm.
“What’re you doin’?”
Sevika put the towel aside, and rubbed your thighs idly, massaging them soothingly, “let’s just say… I had fun with you while you slept.”
“Huh..?”
Sevika nodded to your crotch. Your cheeks flushed red.
“Oh my god. You’re such a pervert.”
“Maybe.” Sevika finished cleaning you up and got up, “I’m ordering dinner. What do you want?”
“Ordering takeout?” You asked, blinking at her.
“Yeah, it’s just food.”
“Fuck. I love you.”
Sevika huffed a laugh, “it’s just food.”
“Food is THE way to my heart.”
“Love you too, babydoll.” She said before grabbing her phone from the bedstand, and laying by you so you both could order together.
Sevika was easily different from everyone else you’d dated before. The difference was so stark you didn’t even have to put them side by side to point out how Sevika took care of you after sex, unlike all your past relationships. She didn’t just throw a rag at you and tell you to clean up, she sat by you and fed you as you both laughed at something that played on the television. She didn’t act like she was being forced to do it all. She genuinely wanted to take care of you.
“Sev?”
“Hmm?” She looked at you.
The TV continued to play in the background, now just white noise as everything seemed to slow down around you both. You smiled slightly.
“You mean the world to me.”
Sevika’s mouth went dry, not from shock, but from speechlessness. No one had ever said that to her. She swallowed thickly and carefully placed her hand on top of yours— a reassuring squeeze.
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