I write smut and stuff for Ellie Williams and Abby Anderson
No use of y/n here :)
Requests: open ;)
Request no-nos- I don’t write about pedøphelia, cnc, or anything with no consent involved, extreme bdsm kinks (not kink shaming I just have no experience with this and wouldn’t know how to approach it). If I am uncomfortable with your request and unable to fulfill it, I will lyk.
ao3 📓
masterlist 📋
Listening to 🎧:
The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess by Chappell Roan (album)
The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill (album)
Hit Me Hard and Soft by Billie Ellish (album)
Crying Laughing Loving by Labi Siffre
I do not include mentions of hair or skin color in my fics‼️: I started writing fics because I felt left out as a reader when fics had overly specific descriptions (especially feminine ones) of the reader. And there is nothing wrong with that at all, but my goal here is to is to be as inclusive as possible!
minors pls dni 🔞
ageless accounts will be blocked. PLEASE HAVE UR AGE IN UR BIO MY DUDES‼️
farmhand!sevika x farmer’s daughter!reader. men & minors dni.
synopsis: you find a woman in your barn who looks suspiciously like the fugitive who remains wanted on your town's bulletin board. but you've always a soft spot for the strong ones.
cw: age difference, older woman/younger woman, outlaw!sevika, farmhand!sevika, farmer's daughter!reader, reader has curly hair, reader is in her twenties, reader is feral for sevika but tries to keep it cute, soft!masc!reader (i'm not sure if she counts as masc in this but that was the intention! i said soft bc there are times where she dresses overtly femme in the beginning), muscular!reader, strong!reader and sevika is insane about it, touch starved!sevika, soft!sevika, sevi getting praised and spoiled as deserved, petnames, non-sexual intimacy, seduction, dirty talk, praise kink, strength kink, you manhandle sevi like a mf, begging, cunnilingus, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, vaginal fingering, tribbing, face riding, nipple play, reader waxing poetic about sevi and pretty she is, dom!reader, pleasure domming, sub!sevika, bdsm elemetns, dom/sub, power play, subspace, implied switch!sevi, mommy kink (specifically mama!).
notes: guys i'm so fucking PISSED because tumblr deleted the fucking ask that made this even happen. but nonnie please know this is for you and i hope you love it, mama. also this got a little crazy. did not intend to write sub!sevi but then i was possessed and saw the light.
The morning mist hasn't burned off yet when you find her. In the barn's half-light, dust motes swim like sparks around the stranger's sleeping silhouette, her broad shoulders rising and falling against the hay. There's dried blood on her knuckles, you notice, but her hands are curled gentle as a child's against her chest.
Your daddy's shotgun rests steady in your hands, barrel aimed low but ready. The wild dogs haven't raised any alarm; they're curled near the woman like she belongs there. You watch her breath, take in the way her mouth hangs a little open like she’s aching to feed. Moths flutter against the high windows, their wings catching dawn's grey light.
"Daddy's gonna want to know why I didn't shoot you," you say softly, your voice carrying in the hollow space.
Your short hair tickles your jaw as you tilt your head, studying. You’ve chopped it for the summer and the heat you applied to it is lifting. You can feel the curls right bursting around your cheeks.
There's something about the woman's face - even in sleep, it holds a story you've seen somewhere before, maybe on that board in town square you've trained yourself not to look at too closely.
The stranger's eyes open - dark and steady as well water. She doesn't startle, despite the gun trained on her. Just watches you like she's reading something written in the air between you both, her gaze catching on the way your corset top pulls tight across your chest, the intricate lace trim exposing your shoulders to the morning air and accentuating the swell of your breasts.
"Would you have?" the woman asks, voice rough with sleep and something else. Her accent isn't local - has too many edges.
Your lips curl.
"Ain't shot a thing yet that didn't deserve it."
You shift your weight, dark jeans whispering against your boots. The corset suddenly feels more revealing under the stranger's gaze, dawn light playing across the ropy back. "You got a name?"
"Sevika." A pause, heavy as August air. "You always dress up to do barn chores?"
"Only when I've got a feeling about something." You step closer, morning light catching in your hair like a halo, shotgun lowering just slightly. You can smell gunpowder and road dust on her, underneath the hay. "Kitchen's got coffee on. Might even have some bacon, if you can convince me you're worth feeding."
Sevika sits up slow, careful, like she's trying not to spook a wild thing. Her shirt is rolled to the elbows, revealing forearms mapped with scars and something that might be tattoo ink. "That an invitation or an interrogation?"
"Guess that depends on what kind of answers you give."
You rest the shotgun against your shoulder, turning toward the barn door, letting morning spill across your exposed skin. You don't look back - don't need to. You can feel Sevika's eyes on you like a physical touch, can hear the soft grunt as she stands.
The horses shuffle in their stalls, steam rising from their backs. Outside, a rooster crows - late, like always. Everything's waking up slow and sweet, the way summer mornings do.
Your pulse thrums steady in your throat. There's danger in this - in the way Sevika's boots fall into step behind you. But you've never been one to let fear stop you from taking in strays. Even ones that look at you like they'd like to devour you whole.
As you walk, you can tell that she’s drinking in the sight of the farm as strangers tend to do. The acres go for miles, the sky straining and stretching across its great, green rolling body. Most of the buildings—the farmhouse, the barn, the bustling chicken coop—were built raised by your mother’s hands. She was an architect romanced and rescued by your father, though you suspect she did the rescuing more than him.
You shimmy a hand down the downy back of one of the newest calves, nose scrunching with affection as he moos back at you. Eventually the house looms before you, the windows popped open and laundry swaying outback despite the expensive machine your mother couldn’t do without.
“You comin’?” You murmur, and Sevika blinks from where she’s been watching you stand in the doorway, your back well-muscled and strong.
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The screen door snaps shut behind you both with a familiar whine. Morning floods the kitchen through tall windows—your mother's insistence on "proper light for proper cooking"—and catches on the copper pots hanging above the island. The coffee pot gurgles its last, right on time.
You set the shotgun in its place by the door, muscle memory, though you keep half an eye on Sevika as she takes in the space. The kitchen tells its own stories: your mother's architectural drawings spread across one end of the table, your daddy's mud-caked boots by the back door, fresh-cut flowers in a Mason jar that catch the light just so. The dishes on the side of the sink are speckled stone, sanded and glazed by the artistry of your older sister. The washing machine hums through the wall, keeping time like a heartbeat.
"Sit," you say, gesturing to the worn oak table. It's been scratched and stained by three generations of family suppers, and something in you stirs at the sight of Sevika pulling out a chair—this stranger inserting herself into your history. "Less you'd rather stand."
She sits, those capable hands folding on the tabletop. Her shoulders are still coiled tight, ready to run, but her eyes follow you as you move through the kitchen's familiar dance. Two mugs from the cabinet (your favorite and daddy's backup), bacon from the icebox, cornbread left from last night.
"Sugar?" you ask, though you've already reached for it. The container clinks against your rings as you set it down.
"Black's fine." Her voice is softer in here, like the domesticity of the space has gentled her edges. But when you lean past her to set down her mug, you catch a whiff of leather and gun oil beneath the barn hay. Your curls brush her shoulder, and you feel more than hear her sharp intake of breath.
You take your time settling into the chair across from her, adding three sugars to your own coffee with deliberate movements. Your mother would be appalled at you entertaining company in just a corset top, but there's something thrilling about the way Sevika's gaze keeps catching on the lace trim, on the exposed line of your collarbones, the rise of your breath.
You let her observe because you’re doing the same. Sevika is gorgeous, the kind of beautiful that sinks deep inside of a woman and wears her out. Her grey eyes are like two beacons and they remind you of the deer you’d beg his father not to shoot. The ones you would run after, flapping your arms to get them to scatter.
Her face is almost ridiculously romantic, with a strong nose sitting pretty in the middle that reminds you of royalty. Her eyes are never-ending, a pit that gapes into who she is. Her skin is textured, as it gets when you’re (allegdly) living on the edge of the law. You can tell she’s older than you without her saying it. Something about her radiates maturity, the same as your mother who’s practically seen the world rise and fall.
"So," you say, watching her over the rim of your mug. "You gonna tell me what brings a woman like you to sleep in my barn? Or do I need to go take another look at that board in town?"
Her jaw tightens, but she doesn't flinch.
"Would it change your mind about the bacon if I did?"
"Depends." You lean back, let your chair creak against the floorboards. Through the window, you can see the laundry dancing on the line, your mother's favorite dress a splash of yellow against the morning sky. "On whether you deserved what put you there."
Sevika's fingers tighten around her mug, and you catch sight of old burns across her knuckles. "Most things ain't that simple."
"Most things worth protecting ain't either." You slide the plate of cornbread toward her, a peace offering. Your voice softens; you were never good at acting hard. "Eat something, sugar. Then we'll talk about what kind of work needs doing around here, if you're planning to stay.”
Something shifts in her expression—surprise at the endearment maybe, or relief. When she reaches for the cornbread, her sleeve rides up, revealing more of that tattoo. It looks like a snake, or maybe a dragon, curling up her arm. You wonder how far it goes, what other stories her skin might tell.
The washing machine clicks into its spin cycle, and somewhere outside, your daddy's truck rumbles to life. The morning's moving on, and there's work waiting. But for now, you let yourself sit in this moment: the sun warming your bare shoulders, the quiet sounds of Sevika eating at your family table.
“I suspect,” she says, her throat bucking as she swallows, “that your parents will have a bit more sense about hiring a fugitive for farm work.”
You shrug, pick a corner off the cornbread on her plate.
“Everyone out here is struggling. We all need someone or something. The only reason we’re faring slightly better is because this place was paid off as an anniversary gift by my grandparents.” You glance out the window. “Plus, I’m my daddy’s favortite. He tends to listen to me.”
There’s something sad about the way you say it, as if it aggrieved you to be so loved. But the moment passes and you’re looking back at her, lips full and curved like the moon.
“It’ll be good for us,” you decide and she lets it go. “Get seconds if you’d like, sugar. I'll intercept them.”
“I’m older than you,” Sevika rumbles and you hide a smile, cock your hip out as you grab a basket for the chickens.
“Doesn’t make you any less sweet on the eyes.”
At that her head ducks down and you laugh, the sound clear and bright like a bell.
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With that Sevika finds herself hired as a farmhand under the stern eye of your father and the knowing eye of your mother. The work is honest and she relishes being able to lose herself in it, settle into the rhythm and flow of this little world your blood has built.
She doesn’t know what to do with you however.
Now, Sevika has lived several lives at this point. In fact sometimes she awoke in the night under the strain of them, the urge to run stampeding from where it sits behind her teeth and under the flat of her tongue. She understands on some level that women find her attractive, brooding. She’s unsurprised at the hints you keep dropping over the weeks. You probably find her intriguing, see her as a means to rebel with her older age and criminal nature.. (“I’m literally in my twenties, Sevika. ‘M not a baby.”)
At least that’s what she thinks at first. But then, she begins to doubt herself and overanalyze your rather…creative attempts to satisfy your coveteous nature.
The first is when she wakes up one early morning, the sky slurred between cotton candy pink and a warm lilac, to find you taking a bath in a two-bit shining steel contraption of a tub. Your body is trembling, but you seem at peace. Your curls are heavy and swollen with water, made longer by the weight of the moisture. She watches your back flex as you move, takes in the hidden strength of your arms and peeking thighs. Your muscle takes her aback, makes her stomach warm real down low.
She should move—your parents will be up soon—but you’re just so captivating when you’re kissed by the dawn. The water sloshes as you pour it over yourself, the underside of your breasts flashing as you soap down. And then you turn, peeking over your shoulder and gazing at her with faux-bambi eyes as you trace a hand up and over your chest to get your back.
She feels warm, teased in a manner that makes her throat squeeze and her hands clench. She doesn’t know what to do with this, doesn’t know how to naviage this eager rabid want that you show her so openly. And it just doesn’t stop.
But what really gets under Sevika’s skin is the kindness that you insist on bludgering her with, especially when no one’s watching. It’s genuine, unexpecting, and claws at her skin with tender phantom fingers.
Just the other day, Sevika had been unable to successfully ward off a duo of wolves and three sheep had been lost in her efforts. She’d apologized gruffly and repeatedly until your mother stepped forward and cupped her chin with a firm hand, telling her to “fuck off with this bullshit because it wasn’t intentional and you tried your best.” What was with you women and nurturing her?
After, Sevika had gone back to where the lasty wooly body lay—the small innocent bones of a lamb. She had felt sick at the sight because the lamb wasn’t a lamb in that moment; she’d seen something else. You saw the lean figure of her body as it bent over in some sort of grief, distraught at the sight of the dead animal beneath it.
Sevika, You had said with shining eyes. Are you alright?
Sevika had looked at you long and hard before making a noise from deep within her throat. Turning swiftly, she tried to block you off from the sight.
I don’t think you’ll want to see this, she’d muttered and you’d settled your hands on your hips.
I’ve lived this long before you were working here, you reminded her.
Sevika’s face was still broken in an open expression of confusion and remorse when you moved forward. Carefully, you swallowed the bulk of her body into the warmth of yours. You weren’t nearly as big, but you held your own and you held her fast. The two of you stayed just like that, with your hand tucked neatly behind her head as you steadied her.
Now, she watches as your broad shoulders dip as you kneel to pick up the limp body of a fallen chicken. These goddamn wolves needed to be dealt with.
It’s in their nature, sugar, you’d told her.
“Wait,” she calls out and you turn to look at her, your cheeks apple-full under the thicket of your lashes.
“Hmm?” you say back, your voice curious.
“Put gloves on if you’re gonna touch it. It probably had some sort of disease.”
Sevika walks closer, grabbing a spare pair of gloves she usually keeps for the other town boys who your father has helping him throughout harvesting week. She holds them out, those dark eyes glittering like grey moonstone.
You look up at her then, curls haloed around your soft face. They’re still kept short, dust your dimpled chin. You look so young and probably always would, the baby fat clinging to your cheeks like the hands of a lover. Sevika continues to gaze down at you, firm and unrelenting, and you smile gently as she eventually looks away.
You’re not moving fast enough, so she crouches down and takes your hands, sliding each glove on and making sure the fingers fit. She notes that your nails are square and glossy, painted an icy pink. You watch with an affected air, scooping the small body up when she finally lets go.
“I’m sorry,” You say to the glassy eyes of the hen and Sevika’s heart seizes.
“‘M sorry, sweetheart,” she tells you, gentle and understanding.
You glance at her and then back at the animal you hold.
“No need to apolgize, you didn’t do anything wrong. Can you help me dig a grave for her?”
Sevika doesn’t know if it would really be worth it to bury it, but you’re a little sad and so obviously cold in your oversized cotton tee and denim shorts. Your skin lights up with the mid-afternoon sun and Sevika can see all of your goosebumps and the fine dusting of hair.
“I—sure,” she agrees and You nod, walking away and trusting her to follow.
Before you begin to lead the march, you turn back and cup her elbow.
“Thank you, sugar.”
And that’s all. She wants to fucking eat you.
You continue to unravel her expectations like cotton thread.
You catch her before dawn another morning, when the sky's still tender with sleep and dark like the evening is loath to leave. She's checking the fence line, and you appear like a vision with two thermoses of coffee and your father's old flannel draped over your worn dark green longsleeve. When you pass her the coffee, your fingers linger on hers longer than necessary.
"Thought you might be cold out here, sugar," you say, and the endearment makes her throat tight. She's not used to being the one called sweet things.
You settle beside her on the fence, close enough that she can feel your warmth. The morning fog rolls across the fields like a dream, and Sevika finds herself watching the way it catches in your hair and the bones of your fingers, how it makes you look ethereal and solid all at once.
"You don't have to keep doing this," she says roughly, though she cradles the thermos close.
"Doing what?" Your voice is innocent but your eyes are knowing.
"Taking care of me. Bringing me things. Being..." she gestures vaguely, unable to name the way you make her feel seen.
You laugh, and she shivers. "Sugar, has it occurred to you that maybe I want to? That maybe I see something in you worth cherishing? That I’m just being genuine?"
The word ‘genuine’ hits her like a physical thing. She ducks her head, unused to this kind of naked affection, but you just reach over and touch her jaw with gentle fingers.
"You're allowed to let someone be sweet on you," you murmur. "Even if you're pushing forty."
There's teasing in your voice, but your touch is reverent. Sevika wants to protest—about the age difference, about her rough past, about how someone as bright and whole as you shouldn't want someone as weathered as her. But you're looking at her like she’s the human version of the Promised Land, and all her arguments die in her throat.
"I don't know how to do this," she admits, voice barely above a whisper.
"Do what?" You're stroking her jaw now, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth.
"Nothing. I need to get back to work."
You lean back, let her go.
“If it’s about learning,," you call, your voice trailing after like smoke, "the good thing is that I'm a real good teacher."
The next time I’m in town, she thinks, I need to buy a pack of damn cigarettes.
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From then on, you start to learn her tells. Like how she always positions herself between you and any perceived threat, how her hands flex when she's trying not to reach for a weapon that isn't there anymore. How she startles, less now, when you're gentle with her.
You catch her in the barn one afternoon, trying to wrap her own ribs after a particularly rough day breaking the new stallion. Her knuckles are white with the effort of reaching around, face drawn tight with pain she won't admit to.
"Sugar," you say softly, and she freezes like a spooked deer. "Let me help you with that."
Her eyes dart to you, then away. "I've had worse."
"Ain't about what you've had." You cross to her, boots quiet in the hay. "About what you deserve now."
You take the bandage from her callused fingers, and she lets you - that alone feels like a victory. This close, you can see the way her breath catches when your fingers brush her skin. Like caring for her is its own kind of violence.
"Lift your arms for me, darlin'," you murmur, and something in her expression cracks when you call her that. Like she can't quite believe the sweetness in your voice is meant for her. But she obeys, raising her arms slowly, letting you wrap her ribs with careful precision.
"You don't have to-" she starts, but you shush her.
"I know I don't have to. Want to." Your fingers trace a scar on her side, old and silver in the afternoon light. "Anybody ever just take care of you, Sevika?"
She doesn't answer, but the way she trembles under your touch says enough. You secure the bandage and let your hands linger on her waist, thumbs brushing bare skin above her jeans.
"Well," you say, pressing a lingering kiss to her shoulder, right where that dragon tattoo curls toward her neck, "better get used to it. I take good care of what's mine."
Her sharp inhale sounds like thunder, and when she turns in your arms, her usual swagger is nowhere to be found. Just vulnerability, raw and beautiful as a sunrise. You cup her face in your hands, thumbs stroking her cheeks, and she leans into your touch like she's starving for it.
"When did you decide tha?" she asks, voice rough. "That I’m yours?"
You smile, soft and sure, and smooth out the furrow in her brow. "You were mine the moment you settled onto my land, sugar. Just took us both a minute to catch up."
And maybe you came on too strong, ‘cause she yanks herself back and straightens her shoulders.
“Thanks.”
You sigh, loud and irate. She’s so fucking—
“No problem, honey.”
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It happens during the last heat of summer, when the air sits thick as honey on your skin. You're in the barn, having just finished moving hay bales—work that would've taken twice as long if you weren't so used to it. Your blue and white bandana top clings to your chest, sweat stealing out from under it, and you can feel Sevika watching you from where she's meant to be fixing the tractor. You arch your back a little more, make sure to display the way your little rose-bud panties poke over the worn mouth of your lightwash, knee-length jean shorts.
You've caught her looking more and more lately. Noticed how her eyes track the contraction of your arms when you're lifting feed bags, the way she startles when you easily hoist yourself into the saddle. Like she can't quite reconcile your soft curves with the strength beneath them.
"You gonna fix that tractor, sugar?" you ask without turning around, smile curving your lips when you hear her shift. Your desire is practically shaking the bones of your teeth."Or you just gonna watch me work?"
Her throat clicks.
"I’m—I'm nearly done."
You hum, reaching up to stack the last bale. Your shirt’s knot loosens a little ‘round your back, exposing the dip of skin, and you hear something metallic clatter to the floor behind you. When you turn, Sevika's staring at you with those storm-grey eyes, wrench forgotten at her feet. There's grease on her forearms, sweat at her temples, and she's looking at you like she's finally ready to break.
"Something wrong?" you ask innocently, crossing to her. Your bare feet are silent in the hay.
She swallows hard when you reach her, especially when you grip the tractor's edge on either side of her, caging her in with arms that could just as easily lift her. "You know exactly what you're doing."
"Do I?" You lean closer, letting her feel the strength in your body. "Tell me what I'm doing, sugar."
Her hands flex at her sides, like she's fighting not to touch you.
"You're driving me crazy," she admits roughly.
“Oh,” you whisper, pursing your lips. “Do I make you nervous, baby?”
She flushes, tries to scramble back, and you laugh, soft and low.
"Driving you crazy, huh? Only fair. You've been driving me crazy since I found you in my barn." You trace a finger down her jaw, feeling how she trembles. "The way you look at me when you think I can't see. The way you try so hard to be good, to keep your distance."
Your other hand finds her hip, grip firm. You squeeze them in warning.
"I've seen how you watch me work. You like that I'm strong enough to handle you?"
She makes a broken sound, head falling back. "[Name]."
"I've got you," you murmur, and then you're lifting her onto the tractor's edge like she weighs nothing, stepping between her legs. Her eyes go wide, pupils blown, and her hands finally, finally come up to grip your biceps. "Been wanting to do that for weeks. You know you gotta tanline right here?"
You finger the thin edge of her boxers from beneath her jeans,
"Christ," she breathes, fingers tightening on your arms. "You're gonna kill me."
“Are you religious? That’s cutesy,” You smile, pressing closer until you can feel her heartbeat racing against your chest. "Nah, sugar. Just gonna take real good care of you." Your hands slide up her thighs, feeling the way she shivers. "If you'll let me."
She answers by pulling you into a kiss that tastes like summer storms and surrender, and you smile against her mouth. You've got her right where you want her—trembling and warm in your capable hands.
"That's it," you whisper when you pull back to breathe, one hand coming up to cup her face. "Let me handle you, mama. Just like you need."
And Sevika, who's spent years being the strong one, the dangerous one, the one who protects—she lets herself fall into you, lets herself be gentled by your hands. Maybe this is what surrender feels like: not a defeat, but a coming home.
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Your most prevailing thought is that you’re pissed you didn’t get to see Sevika like this earlier.
Her back arches beautifully, her chest rising with pleasure as you hold her down on the floor by the hips. Your mouth is relentless, suckling at her warm pussy with fervor. She tastes sweet and she’s so soaked, her arousal dribbling out of your mouth and onto your chin. You hum as she roots a hand in your hair, tugging harshly as she grinds down in tight little circles.
She’s whimpering, high breathy sounds that you’re determined to keep streaming from her slick lips. She’s still quiet, as you expected, but Christ does she want it. You let her use you, sliding your hands from her hips up to cup and grope her tits. Her nipples are erect, so hard and pretty and pointed toward heaven like she’s trying to tempt God. She’d probably succeed.
The sun slips through the slats of the barn and it illuminates her skin, the brown of it so warm that you almost feel as if you’re both on fire. You slip your tongue into the tight clutch of her cunt, gently dipping back and forth so that you’re fucking her on your tongue, and squeeze her ass in silent demand. She digs her nails into you, moans loudly, but still doesn’t heed.
With a groan of irritation, you clutch her ass with a grip of steel and begin to bounce her on your face until she starts to see the bigger picture. Eventually, she’s moving on her own—fast and uncoordinated as that bright spiral begins to coil in her stomach.
“Oh my God,” she groans. “Just like that. Please.”
You pull away, spread her apart.
“I know, mama,” you murmur and then dive back in.
Her thighs come up around your head and you let her crush you, shaking your head like a dog in heat as you nurse and lap at her pussy. Above you, Sevika twists one of her nipples and you feel her body tense in response. You bring a hand up to rub at her clit, and she jerks.
When she cums, she’s so bright and beautiful—like a star imploding onto itself. Her legs fall open and she lets out a low whine, like an animal, her hips still circling as she attempts to ride it out.
“Hold on, mama,” you tell her. “I’m gonna give it to you.”
You move quickly, undressing completely and laying your body against hers. Your tits push into hers and she nuzzles into your neck, mind still hazy. You soothe her, digging a thumb into her lower back as you slip two fingers into the meat of her. She lets out a strangled yell at the overstimulation, but you hold her to it.
You fuck your fingers into her, until the squelch is more than obscene, watching as she shakes and writhes alongside you. You use your other hand to guide her to your mouth, kissing her messily as you introduce a third finger to her pussy.
“Oh,” she moans, low and raspy, and you coo at her. “Oh, shit. Holy—holy fuck.”
“Yeah? Does that feel good, baby? You have to tell me what you like.”
“I—mmm. Yes. Yes, it feels good. I need—I need—”
Sevika trails off, eyes wide and watery. You roll over, tucking her under you while you continue to finger her. You raise one of her legs, widening the angle, and she squeals. You laugh lowly into the seam of her neck before sucking the skin between your teeth, biting down and bruising her.
“What do you need, mama? More?”
“Yes, but—,” She blinks, attempting to clear her head. “I want you too. I want you to finish with me.”
“With you or on you?” You watch her face as you ask, eyes following the twitch of her brow. “Maybe in you?”
That makes her shiver, and you smile as you sit up.
“Whatever you want, baby,” you mutter as you manhandle her into how you want her. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”
She shivers again and you pull her up, drawing her against your chest so that your tits are once again pressing up against each other. Carefully, you extend her strong legs over yours and inch forward until your clits catch. The friction is insane and your mouth drops open along the same time that Sevika goes ramrod straight.
You dive right in, fucking up so that your cunts slide and swallow each other. She’s so creamy, her previous orgasm sliding down her thighs. There’s a moment where your control dips, where she’s the one ramming the two of you together and leading you up so that you can grind harder until she stutters again.
Then it’s back and you’re holding her down, spreading her even further open as you rub your pussy roughly against hers. You need her to stay down, need her to take what you choose to give. Sevika is beneath you, trembling and open mouthed, and you stick two fingers down her throat ‘till she’s gagging wetly around them.
“Oh m’God,” you moan, your eyes never leaving hers. “You’re such a fucking slut, mama. Jesus.”
That does it and you feel her pour into you, thick and warm. You follow shortly after, rocking and pushing down against her as you chase the feeling. She’s sobbing, a hand coming up to grip at her throat as she tries to match your movements.
You slow, come to a stop, and stroke her face as you rise off of her. Tenderly, you kiss at her cheeks and eyelids as you sush her.
“I know, baby. You were so good. Such a good, perfect, strong woman. Hmm?” You kiss her temple. “You did so well, mama.”
She’s shaking, so you hold her until she’s less far away. You want to get up, get her some water and maybe something to eat but she’s holding you captive. Sevika turns into you, body big and curved like the moon come to earth.
The afternoon light paints everything gold, and you know you’ve got work waiting—always do, on a farm. But for now, you just continue to hold her. Somewhere outside, those wild dogs are keeping watch.
hockey jock!vi x tutor!reader, fluff / humor / angst / kinda slowburn / smut (18+ mdni!), wc: 16k+ [buckle your seatbelts bc i could not shut the fuck up about vi if i wanted to !]
synopsis: you’re many things; an exemplary student, quiet and well-mannered, loved immensely by those who bother to get to know you, but most importantly, the newfound object of superstar athlete vi’s every affection. or, in other words, hockey jock!vi is lowkey a loser, atrociously down bad, and will stop at nothing to make you hers.
content warnings: language (duh), brief mentions of familial issues, latent insecurity, miscommunication & lack of communication, kissing, groping, SEX! mdni, seriously, i’ll THROW UP!, more specifically fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), spitting, makeup sex idk, just good old fashioned lesbian BANGING! also! jazz cabbage, lets pretend for the sake of this au that student athlete’s don’t get tested bc i NEED hockey jock!vi to hotbox reader PLS.
fic soundtrack:
i could imagine —alina baraz /snooze — sza /tonight — summer walker / pressure — james vickery + sg lewis / wish that i could — umi
author’s note: of course it’d be arcane s2 that resurrects me from my almost yearlong hiatus...pls enjoy this fic even though i’m pretty rusty; she’s been cooking in the drafts for weeks T-T
i’ll be answering some (very long overdue) asks and chatting with you guys <3 and finally, this shit is barely proofread bc my brain is fried lol
main masterlist | arcane masterlist
VI HAS A HUGE PROBLEM.
One that supersedes every issue she’d ever given weight to in all of her four (and a half) years of university. Is way larger than twice-a-day practices on and off the ice that go hand-in-hand with studying so hard to make sure that her grades don’t slip a fraction. Probably way bigger than the fact that her little sister’s graduating high school soon and she’s trying her absolute best to be as great a role model as she can despite wanting to crack under the pressure. And most definitely bigger than her favorite on-again-off-again fling, Cait Kiramann, whose rare to come by these days.
Vi has a huge problem, and quite frankly, it’s you.
In hindsight, she’s been relatively good at overlooking you, not that it’d been intentional to begin with, but Vi knows a lot of people. Too many, she feels sometimes. So it's easy for you to slip through the cracks when everyone’s vying for even a shred of her attention.
Perhaps it’s what piques her interest when your orbits finally do collide. Because, admittedly, you know all about Vi. Know that she’s probably one of the most valuable players on the uni’s hockey team (she’s an absolute beast on the ice). Also know that she’s a biomedical physics major and actually incredibly smart. But most of all, you know that not only is Violet a flirt, she’s a player.
Not necessarily that you’ve ever really been on the receiving end, but mostly because her reputation precedes her and you’ve seen it all from a distance. Can't not when the decorated hockey star is such a charmer whether she intends to be or not. Vi has girls both certain and questioning stumbling for a single glance.
You often think it’s pitiful, but it’s not like it’s really your problem.
Until it is.
It all starts at The Afterparty.
Hours after a big victory in the first game of three that solidifies whether the university hockey team participates in the championships, Violet is the star of tonight’s celebration.
She’d sunk the winning shot, and for that she’s being poured shot after celebratory shot. By eleven she’s practically hammered and it’s when her teammate, Ellie, and the captain, Abby, finally show up.
The three of them together, drunk, is like a minefield of obnoxious laughter, dirty innuendos, and rowdy behavior.
And for a while it’s funny, has Vi feeling like she’s on cloud nine, but eventually, the drunken high begins to evaporate and she starts to feel a little overwhelmed.
The spotlight shifts and even though Vi typically preens under the attention, she’s grateful to finally breathe.
With a plastic cup full of water, she’s sliding the back door open and stepping out onto the back patio to take in the cool air for a breather.
She makes a move towards the stairs, but nearly jumps out of her skin when she registers the silhouette at the base of the steps.
“Jesus, fuck,” Vi hisses to herself. “You scared the shit outta me.”
You don’t even spare her a glance over your shoulder, just take a sip from your drink.
“Sorry,” you hum passively.
She catches her breath, doesn’t even bother to ask permission as she drops all of her weight next to you.
The step creaks under pure muscle.
Her strong legs stretch out, elbows settling back against the step up as she waits. And waits. And waits.
The amount of silence that lapses is unusual, uncharacteristic for Vi, especially so because people are typically babbling enough to fill the void when it comes to her.
But you just sit there, nursing your beer and staring up at the stars. The moon hangs half in the sky, softly illuminating the planes of your features.
It’s her first good look at your face and Vi’s definitely drunk, but the immediate thought that comes to her mind is pretty, pretty, pretty. Undeniably and painfully pretty. And not Caitlyn pretty, the only girl she’s ever really used as a benchmark, but intimidatingly so in your own right. Makes her swallow hard, throat bobbing as she watches you unapologetically.
“It’s rude to stare, Violet,” you say simply, eyes finally flitting to meet hers.
Her breath catches in her throat, earthy flecks dancing in your moonlit irises. God, your eyes. Framed by thick lashes and round as you look up at her.
“You know who I am?” she asks stupidly as if point fives of her face aren’t blown up into memes and plastered all over the house.
“Who doesn’t?” you ask, breathing a puff of humorless laughter as you crush the can in your ringed fingers.
And perhaps you got her there, but Vi’s feeling exceptionally small under your gaze despite usually filling out a room. Something about you makes her shrink.
“I— fuck,” Vi stumbles, cheeks red because you’re looking at her with an indecipherable gleam in your gaze that has her squirming. “What’s your name?”
She cringes at herself, rolls the piercing in her nose once, twice, for comfort.
You laugh again, a little more genuine this time because, from a distance, the athlete’s usually so suave, undeniably gorgeous and composed. Right now, the girl in front of you only ticks one of those boxes.
“________,” you offer.
She weighs the name on her tongue, decides she likes it a lot, and tries to shake off whatever this feeling you’re giving her is.
“And you go to school here?” she asks.
You nod once.
“Neuroscience, fourth year.”
“Huh, we’re in similar fields, but I’ve never seen you around,” Vi observes. Because she’s certain she’d bookmark a face like yours, absolutely no doubt about it.
“We had organic chemistry together sophomore year with Dr. Talis,” you say matter-of-factly, like you’re not blowing her mind right now. “And I’m auditing Medarda’s biometry class this semester.”
Vi’s floored.
“Wait, wait, but...” She’s trying to piece the puzzle together, but her brain’s still a little fuzzy, equal parts from the alcohol, but also because she’s caught a whiff of your perfume and you smell so sweet.
“I pop in every once in a while,” you tell her. “But I tutor in that time slot every Tuesday and Thursday, only really go when I don’t have any appointments.”
“Hold on, this is nuts,” Violet says, body easing to face you. You flinch because she doesn’t realize she’s practically yelling. “There’s no way, I definitely would’ve remembered you if that was the case.”
You hum, corners of your lips quirking as you shrug your shoulders.
“Doubt it,” you counter. “I’m nothing particularly spectacular.”
“Nothing particularly spectacular,” Vi repeats under her breath.
And under normal circumstances, she’d be flirting up a storm right now, trying to charm her way into getting you to bite, but this is one of the first semblances of normalcy she’s experienced in a while. No ulterior motives, no exaggerated kindness, no outright asking her to fuck.
Suddenly your phone lights up in your lap and you’re turning your attention to the device.
“DD duties call,” is all you say as you make a move to stand up.
No, this can’t be all she gets from you tonight. Not when she’s been narrowly missing someone like you for the past four years and you’re just now coming to light.
The dormant liquid courage bubbles and Vi’s gently grabbing your wrist to pull you to a stop.
“Maybe I’ll see you around?” she asks, steely eyes liquid as she stares up at you.
You eye the scar on her lip, gaze lingering there before flitting to meet hers.
“Maybe.”
Vi decides that she needs to see you again.
You’d left her with crumbs this past Friday night and she’d spent the better part of the weekend trying (and failing) to cross paths with you again.
“Jesus, you’re down bad,” Ellie chuffs Monday morning on their walk to the campus coffee shop.
“You don’t understand,” Vi defends. “She’s so...so...”
“So?”
“Different, I dunno,” Vi sighs, fiddling with the strap of her backpack as they walk. “We didn’t even talk about much, but that was the most normal I’ve felt around someone in a while.”
Her teammate snorts.
“Probably the gayest thing I’ve heard you say,” Ellie deadpans. “She isn’t immediately trying to munch and you’re already in love. Pathetic.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Vi scoffs as they approach the coffee shop, inside packed full with half-functioning college students so early in the morning. “Trust me, if you met her, you’d—”
The words die in her throat because halle-fucking-lujah, the universe or god, or whatever has answered her every prayer this past weekend as she clocks you a few paces ahead in line.
Ellie follows her friend’s line of vision to find exactly what she’s staring at and she lets out a low whistle when her gaze finds your frame.
From a completely aesthetic standpoint, she can see why Vi’s immediately hooked.
“Hah,” she makes a noise in her throat. “Okay, so maybe it makes sense.”
Vi can’t help but stare because, if it were possible, you were far prettier under the warm lighting of the cafe’s ambiance. The curls of your hair frame your face beautifully and it’s so fucking cute how focused you are on your phone.
“Hate to break it to you, though. That girl’s way out of your league,” Ellie says like it’s common knowledge.
“Wow, way to boost my ego,” Vi mutters drily.
“Just being realistic,” Ellie argues. “If you bag her, she’s easily the hottest girl you’ve been with.”
And Vi can’t really contest that, not when the proof’s in the fucking pudding.
Her body’s moving of its own accord and before she can register her own actions, she’s mumbling quiet s’cuse me’s under her breath as she squeezes between patrons to close a bruised hand over your shoulder.
You nearly jump out of your skin, fumbling with your phone as an earbud falls out.
“Shit, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Vi says quickly.
Your gaze snaps to her, brows furrowing almost imperceptibly before your expression settles.
“Violet,” you acknowledge.
And she realizes that she didn’t really have a game plan coming up to you so abruptly. Had been so focused on actually just seeing you again, that she hadn’t thought through the rest of it.
The way you stare up at her is thoroughly disarming because she doesn’t have the shield of night or alcoholic courage to carry her through it.
“Can I help you?” you ask, but not unkindly.
“Oh, uh, I...” She chances a glance over her shoulder to find that Ellie is watching her from a few customers away, eyebrow cocked and smirk testing. She word vomits before she can think of a coherent thought. “You mentioned tutoring...the last time we talked.”
You don’t even bat an eye.
“I did.”
“You’re also auditing Medarda’s biometry class.”
“I am.”
“I’m...I’m not really doing too hot in Medarda’s right now,” Vi says, brain nearly short-circuiting and freezing up because, lie! She’s doing phenomenally in Medarda’s session and, truthfully, she’s just downright scared to ask you to hang out.
Especially when you look up at her like that.
You shift and she’s swallowing down around nothing.
“Hmm, can’t have that, can we?” you hum.
Vi could melt.
“No,” she breathes out a laugh. “Can’t.”
“You can sign up for a slot through the library’s website,” you say after you weigh the thought.
Vi’s pausing, staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights.
“So I can get paid?” you fill in.
“Oh, right,” Vi chokes. “Right.”
You give her a soft smile before plugging your earbud back in, leaving Vi to rejoin her obviously amused friend.
“You’re fucking joking!”
The librarian gives you and your incredulous roommate a look from the circulation desk and you return it with a sheepish smile from where you’re tucked by a wall of looming floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Maddie,” you whisper.
“You’re telling me that The Violet asked you personally to tutor her?” Maddie asks you, leaned over the tabletop with wide eyes.
“Yeah, cornered me at Brew House this morning and asked me to tutor her in Medarda’s class.”
“Just that?” she asks. “Nothing else?”
You look around in disbelief.
“Uh, yeah?” you scoff. “What else would she want?”
“What else would she— are you serious?” Maddie leans back in her seat, arms crossing over her chest as she gives you a plain look. “You know all about Vi, you’re actually gonna play stupid?”
“Oh, come on.” You roll your eyes. “You’ve seen the girls Violet’s fucked, right? Kiramann? The blonde from the tennis team? She’s got a type and you know it.”
It’s Maddie’s turn to roll her eyes and you see the exasperated groan she’s staving off.
“None of that self-deprecating bullshit—”
“It’s not self-deprecating!” you argue. “Not everyone wants to fuck Violet, Maddie. Put me in the number one spot.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Don’t start.”
“All I’m saying is that anyone with eyes can see that Vi’s hot as fuck. That being said, you’re also hot as fuck. Not only that, but rumor has it, she gives the most toe-curling—”
You’re rolling your eyes again, gaze fluttering out the window momentarily only to find that, speak of the devil, Violet’s approaching the library with a skip in her step.
Maddie stops her spiel to trace your gaze and nearly falls out of her seat when she finds the object of your conversation is advancing, fast.
“No fucking way,” you whisper to yourself, pulling up your tutoring log on your tablet to find that, yup, Violet has most-definitely taken your advice and signed up for a tutoring slot.
If the time reads correctly, you’ve got three minutes before she’s due to be taking Maddie’s seat.
Your friend is grinning at you mischievously, stuffing her backpack quickly to vacate the space across from you.
“Un-fucking-believable,” you scoff, slumping back in your seat.
“Tell me how it goes,” she giggles, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stands.
“Maddie,” you warn.
“Love you, see you at home!”
Violet’s strolling into the library just as Maddie leaves through the other doors and try as you might make yourself small in the open air near the research center, her gaze falls on you as soon as she enters.
“Hey,” she breathes once breaches your vicinity.
“Hi.”
A moment lapses before you’re nodding towards the seat before you.
“We can get started whenever you’re ready.”
Right. Right! Vi’s mentally cringing, pulling the chair out with a squeak and dropping onto the worn cushion.
Her eyes are locked, watching as you pull the biometry textbook from your little messenger bag.
“Any particular areas you’re struggling in?” you ask, flipping to a clean sheet of paper in your notepad and clicking open your pen.
Vi combs her brain, tries to think of anything she’s not really grasping in Medarda’s class, but she’s been acing all the exams with flying colors, so she spits out the first thing that comes to mind.
“Logistic regression, probably,” she answers.
“In relation to...?” You tilt your head and Vi’s breath is hitching.
“The Confusion Matrix,” she answers, even though she knows all about it.
It’s only when you start breaking it down from the bare bones that she realizes that she could listen to you talk for-probably-ever.
You obviously have a great understanding of the subject if the way you deconstruct the relationship between sensitivity and specificity (or whatever the fuck) is anything to go by, and she doesn’t realize that she hasn’t even blinked until you’re glancing up at her.
“Am I making any sense?” you ask softly, taking in the almost confused look on Violet’s face.
“Huh?”
Vi snaps out of it, cheeks coloring pink when she notes the way you straighten in your seat.
“Am I going too fast?”
“No, no!’ Vi practically shouts before chancing an embarrassed gaze around the library to find a few wandering eyes. She clears her throat and tries to relax. “No, you’re doing great. I get it.”
You don’t seem convinced, but the faster you get through the material, the faster Violet can leave and you can finally catch your breath.
Because maybe Maddie’s a little right. That while you know, one hundred percent, without-a-doubt, that you and Violet are cut from two different cloths and that you ultimately won’t mesh, there’s still a sliver of want that settles somewhere confined in the pit of your gut.
You don’t know how long you continue before you notice that sun has begun to set in the horizon, but Vi’s effort is unwavering. She’s probably on her tenth practice problem by now and so far, she’s only flubbed once.
You decide to fold your cards first.
“O-kay,” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as you roll your shoulders and squeeze your hands shut so tight your knuckles crack. “This is a good stopping point, don’t you think?”
No, Vi could keep going forever if it meant hearing you talk all night, but the little G-shock wristwatch winks the time and she realizes that the two of you have been going at it for going on two hours and you’re probably exhausted.
“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long,” Vi says sheepishly. “Thanks a lot for your help, I...”
You look up from where you’re shuffling your papers together, pausing when she hesitates.
“I really appreciate you. I know you probably help dozens of people every week and—”
She stops talking when she sees you crack what seems to be the first genuine smile she could get out of you since Friday.
“It’s my job, Violet,” you tell her. “I’m happy to help.”
And she’d done well enough during the tutoring session, had a successful run with the practice problems. You were confident it was just a one and done. Perhaps served as a review for the upcoming exam Medarda had posted on the class page.
But then you see her name in the final time slot on Thursday, don’t really think much of it until you’re tabbing to next week’s schedule for shits and giggles. Tuesday and Thursday are booked through again, her name highlighted in yellow.
You minimize the calendar and pull up the aggregate schedule only to find that every 4 o’clock slot every Tuesday and Thursday’s been booked until the end of the semester.
You refresh for good measure.
“Oh, you’re so shitting me.”
You don’t know what kind of joke this is, if Violet thinks that this is funny, but you’re not amused.
Especially when you’re stalking all the way to the athletic hall, ignoring the wolfish stares from shameless student athletes to whip into the women’s hockey team’s reserved conditioning space.
You find her benching near the center of the room, Abigail Anderson spotting her while the rest of the team engages in various workouts and exercises.
A hush ripples over the weight room as you approach the hockey star, standing at the end of the bench where her knees are bent. One of Abigail Anderson’s eyebrows quirk up as you stand there with your hands on your hips and you hope the chill that runs down your spine as she checks you out doesn’t visibly vibrate your body.
When the barbell nearly crushes Vi’s chest on her last rep, Abby’s quick to help her re-rack and takes the biggest step back as Vi sits up.
Her expression falls and her face pales when she locks eyes with you, your features severe and gaze stony.
“Oh, hey,” she squeaks.
Truthfully, she hadn’t really pinned you as the type to be confrontational. Thought she’d have enough time to build a strong enough story as to why she booked out all of your tutoring sessions when in actuality she panicked when Ellie started grilling the fuck out of her about being a fucking pussy and begging her to just ask you out.
“You have some explaining to do, Violet.”
And she should definitely be embarrassed, not at all turned on, but she can’t help it as she gulps. Because when you stand before her like this, she can easily admit that she’d die for a private version of the view.
The silence in the weight room is palpable and you want to back down, but if this is some running joke and Vi’s going to make a show of humiliating you in front of her teammates, then you’d give her a show.
“Violet.”
Someone in the back snickers, another whistles, and Vi’s cheeks go red.
She’s standing, sweaty hands closing around your biceps as she spins you around and quickly guides you out of the conditioning room and out of her teammates’ line of ogling sight.
“V—”
“I’m sorry,” Violet splutters. “I’m just not really confident in Medarda’s class right now and I don’t trust myself to study alone, plus you’re a really good tutor and—”
“You do realize that those tutoring sessions are added to your tuition, right?” you ask incredulously. “It’s fifteen dollars an hour.”
Vi’s smile is crooked.
“That’s what my scholarship’s for,” she grins.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?” you try again. “I feel that before an exam for a little refresh is fair, but this would be like relearning the material after every class, all over again.”
“If it’s taught by you, I’ll take it,” Vi says quickly, and you pause because what does she mean by that?
You don’t really have much rebuttal left even though you’d marched up here with a fire under your ass. Vi’s looking down at you with a softened edge in her gaze and she’s wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants and sweat-soaked grey tank that reveals swathes of ink that curls up her arms and disappears under the fabric of her shirt.
She breathes out a small laugh when she notices the way your eyes dance.
“Anymore concerns, cupcake?”
Your gaze snaps to hers and her grin widens when she sees you fidget, little pet name obviously eliciting a semblance of a reaction from you.
“N-No,” you stammer.
“Great, see you tomorrow?“
You swallow.
“Okay,” you agree. “See you tomorrow.”
Violet pops into the library at four on the dot.
Her hair’s wet from an obvious shower and you smell her, warm like honey and cedar as she takes the seat across from you.
“Afternoon, cupcake,” she greets, slinging her backpack into the seat next to her.
You give her a warning look, but she just flashes you a toothy smile and nods towards the opened biometry textbook before you.
“What’s the lesson today, Teach?”
And this feels an awful lot like mocking, but you can’t be sure, not when Vi’s been somewhat respectful, sweet even.
“What do you know about the the sigmoid function?” you probe.
“Jack shit,” she laughs.
And maybe you’d find it endearing if the entirety of the situation wasn’t still absolutely mindfucking you at moment.
“Can I ask you something, Violet?” you ask, leaning back in your seat as you cross your arms to level her with as an intimidating look as you can.
“Sure, anything.”
“Are you messing with me?” you ask. “Is this some joke you and your friends are playing? Because I can’t really think of an outcome that would be funny.”
And you’d like to say that the look of horror on Violet’s face is consolation enough, but you know how being loved and being popular can make people act sometimes.
Vi contemplates telling you the truth, that she’s too chickenshit to ask you out, that getting close to you in any other way scares the fuck out of her. That maybe getting you to tutor her will segue into some form of friendship that’ll allow her to ease her way in. And maybe she’s going about it the hard way, but maybe Vi also likes a challenge.
“No jokes, just bad at statistics,” she says weakly.
You’re silent for way longer than comfort allows before you turn your attention to the textbook and Vi’s letting out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding.
“Fine,” you give in. “Let’s talk about sigmoid function and practice some applications...”
Vi’s happy to listen, goes through your preselected practice problems with ease (and maybe fucks up a value or two here and there to really sell her need for you). But the sun’s going down again, and it’s nearing six when Vi folds her hand this time around.
It comes in the form of her stomach grumbling in the emptying library and she looks up at you in embarrassment as you crack the first smile of the evening.
“Hungry?” you ask.
“Starving,” she replies dramatically, leaning so far back in her seat, her knees bump yours under the table.
Your toes curl at the contact, heart skipping when she doesn’t make a move to reposition herself.
“Have you eaten yet?” she asks, eyes looking everywhere but yours.
“Not since breakfast,” you admit.
“You like pizza?”
“Only the good kind,” you challenge.
“Beautiful,” Vi hums, shuffling her papers into her textbook and chucking it back into her bookbag. “I know the best place.”
Valentino’s is a hole-in-the-wall right outside of campus, a short walk from the library that Violet leverages as a way to get to know you outside of being lectured about statistical curves and correlation.
“Did you grow up around here?” Vi asks once the waiter sets two glasses of water down between the two of you.
You shake your head.
“No, grew up on the east coast and decided I needed a break from my life there,” you admit easily.
It’s almost as if the facade of professionalism fades away, melting to reveal you.
Vi’s desperate for more.
“As in?”
You look at her for a moment, wonder if you should divulge because you’re not really sure if Vi would get it, but she watches you like she’s hanging onto every single word you say, so you’re spilling.
“My dad died when I was little, left me and three other siblings with my Mom,” you offer. “And I love my siblings. Love my mom. She’s been a great parent, better than great actually, but most of our family disowned me when I came out and it was easier to run away than to deal with it.”
Violet’s expression falls, a furrow settling deep between her brows.
“Wow, I’m, uh, I’m really sorry to hear that,” she says, and she sounds sincere. A long moment lapses before she’s adding, “for what it’s worth, I think that’s very brave of you.”
And you seem a little surprised at the sentiment.
“Thanks.” You smile. “That’s sweet of you to say.”
Vi could turn to goo in this dimly lit booth, stained-glass wall sconce casting a warm glow over your pretty face.
“You—” She sniffs, changes the subject because she doesn’t know if she can do this on an empty stomach. “You like pineapple on your pizza?”
“Oh yeah,” you confirm proudly. “It’s a hill I’ll die on, I’m not sorry.”
“God, marry me now.”
She doesn’t realize she says it out loud until you’re bursting into a fit of laughter on your side of the booth.
“So this is something we can agree on?” you ask, head tilting in the way that makes Vi want to grab your face and taste you.
“Oh yeah,” she parrots instead. “One hundred percent.”
Valentino’s becomes routine just as much as Vi seeing you at four every Tuesday and Thursday becomes routine. It’s always after the Thursday session (because they have a three dollar slice from 6 to close) that you and Vi cram yourselves in the same booth near the kitchen and giggle over half a Hawaiian pizza.
“...And my little sister blew up her science project in the fourth grade—”
You choke on your bite, eyes wide as Violet recalls Powder’s little mishap that sent the entire gymnasium evacuating despite the tiniest fire.
“Now she’s about graduate and start school for chemical engineering,” she says, obviously proud.
“She seems like a smart girl,” you observe, if the countless stories Violet shares with you is anything to go by.
You figure being related to someone as great as the new friend you’ve made also speaks for itself.
“The smartest,” she agrees. “I’m proud of her.”
“I’m sure she’s proud of you too,” you assure her. “You’re a good big sister.”
And it’s in these moments that Vi realizes that she’s in far, far deeper than she initially gave stock. Because these past few weeks, she realizes that there’s a lot more to your big brain and your pretty face. You’re an attentive listener, way funnier than she could have anticipated, and just a lot more laid back than you let on.
That much she finds out after the two of you graduate from emailing with silly sign-offs to exchanging phone numbers and texting. It starts off rather irregular, a coffee order here and there, maybe a TikTok that Vi swears is funny, you just have to watch it all the way through! But then she starts texting you when she’s bored, when she’s in class, before practice, after. Even pops the question that’s been niggling at her since she met you: on a scale from 1 - 10 how down are you to smoke?
Like cigarettes?
no, weed, dummy.
Oh. Hmm. 7. 10 if I’m drunk.
She could not wipe the smile from her face even if she tried.
And then she gets the invite.
Ellie swears it’s her in.
“Jesus Christ if you even consider me a friend, you’ll bang,” Ellie calls from the couch.
“It’s just tutoring,“ Vi argues.
“Yeah, at her place,” she scoffs. “At least test the waters, maybe cop a feel.”
“You’re a pig,” Vi snorts, making sure her laptop and all of the worksheets Medarda’s assigned over the course of the week is in her backpack.
“You’ve been wet dreaming over this girl for months.”
“Fuck all the way off.” Vi’s face warms because her best friend isn’t necessarily wrong.
You’re too hot for your own good, but you don’t even know it and Vi thinks she could die sometimes. Especially when you wear your favorite pair of jeans, the ones that hug the swell of your ass just right. Or swipe on that shimmery lipgloss she swears makes your mouth look edible.
If you were willing, Vi would be all over you, but thinking about taking advantage of the fact that you trust her enough to invite her into your space feels a little grimy.
“Whatever, bang, don’t bang,” Ellie says nonchalantly. “Blueball yourself for all I care.”
Vi rolls her eyes, slings her bag over her shoulder before sliding on her shoes and leaving her friend on the couch with a resounding click.
You live off-campus, maybe a ten minute drive, in a cozy little complex near the suburbs. Your roommate, Maddie, a chipper blonde with a bob, is all too eager to leave when Vi arrives.
“Hi, sorry we couldn’t meet anywhere else,” you apologize as you let her into your space. “Even if the library wasn’t closed, the vet said I have to monitor Pip for the next 48 hours.”
Vi raises a brow.
“My cat,” you clarify.
“Oh.” Vi doesn’t know why she suddenly feels like she’s intruding as she hesitantly toes off her shoes and follows you down the hall.
But she does take the opportunity to take you in in all your glory; all cozy and cuddly in an oversized sweatshirt, plaid pajama shorts and mismatched egg socks.
Cute. So fucking cute.
You spare her a glance over your shoulder and she’s clearing her throat.
“We don’t have to have a session tonight," she says, stopping at the threshold of the living room. “I would’ve understood if you had to cancel.”
You shake your head, give her a soft smile that has her knees feel like jelly.
“S’okay,” you assure her. “A promise is a promise.”
And you do start off studying, shoulder to shoulder in front of your coffee table, but then Pip crawls from his little hiding spot under the TV console to curiously nose along Vi’s feet and she’s a goner.
“He’s so sweet,” she practically wails as he paws at her thigh and nudges against her arm so that he can climb into her lap.
You warm at the sight, can’t help but snap a picture, much to Violet’s dismay.
“Stop,” she laughs. “That picture can’t see the light of day.”
“Why?” you whine, making a show of climbing onto your wooden coffee table to get a funny top down photo of the hockey star with your cat. “You and Pip look so cute together.”
She feigns a scowl even though her shoulders shake with laughter.
“I have a bad boy image to uphold, sweetheart.”
You snort, reach into her lap to scratch behind Pip’s ear, and her heart melts, body warm from her ears to her toes.
“Is he sick?” she asks cautiously, petting him softly.
“Just a little,” you say. “Something some rest and medicine won’t fix.”
It’s how the two of you end up on the couch, study materials long forgotten as Animal Planet plays in the background. Pip’s moved to lounge atop the covers draped over your lap and you’re blowing your nose into a tissue as an especially sad segment about baby animals being rejected by their mothers finishes.
Vi knows she shouldn’t laugh, but you’re too fucking cute and she can’t help but coo at you.
“You can’t tell anyone about this,” you hiccup.
“What, that you’re a big soft baby?” she teases.
“Vi,” you whimper.
And something in her brain tickles because she can’t recall a time you’d ever called her by her nickname, only ever referred to her as Violet and nothing else.
She resists a smile.
“Okay, okay,” she gives in. “Lets change the subject.”
You make a noise of agreement as you cuddle your sleepy Pip.
“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she says, arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers a hairsbreadth from your figure.
Test the waters, cop a feel.
Vi’s not particularly into the idea, but the opportunity’s right there in the way wisps of your hair falls from its hold. Her fingers move of their own device, tucking the strands behind your ear.
She feels you still for the slightest, most imperceptible of moments, but then you’re relaxing, letting her fingers brush from your ear down to your shoulder, then back to where it rests on the back of the couch.
“You doing anything on Saturday?” she asks, really hopes you’ll say no.
“Not that I know of,” you say without second thought.
Not that you really need to. Your tight circle of friends are all alike, tethered to their hobbies and their homes.
“I have a game on Saturday,” Vi starts, fiddling with a little hole in the cushion. “If you wanted to come.”
You don’t agree or disagree immediately, and Vi’s scrambling to soothe over any potential discomfort.
“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna, of course,” she says quickly. “I just— I thought you might be interested in going and I’d really like to see you there and—”
A small little laugh puffs from your lips.
“Of course I’ll go,” you agree easily.
Vi deflates in relief.
“Great,” she sighs. “Awesome.”
Vi doesn’t know why she invites you. More so, she doesn’t know why she tells her teammates that she’s invited you because now they’re whooping and hollering in the locker room, towel-whipping her and sing-songing that their star player’s gonna get laid.
Doesn’t know why she invites you because as soon as she glides on the ice, she’s searching the stands high and low for your familiar figure. When she clocks you nestled in the middle with your roommate and another friend she vaguely recognizes, her heart’s soaring and her stomach’s twisting in knots.
Vi’s never nervous, but somehow you bring out the worst of it.
It only takes a few moments, though. The blare of the horn snaps her back into her zone and she leaves all the noise off-rink. In this moment, all she knows is cutting ice, dodging the other team’s most aggressive players and sinking shot after shot.
It’s nearing the end of the second period when she finally glances at the score.
5—4.
The opposing team’s giving them a run for their money and this is probably one of the tightest matches they’ve played all season. She takes a moment to find you in the stands again, and you’re right where she left you, eyes already glued to her as you hover over the edge of your seat.
She hadn’t realized it before, but you’ve got her number painted on her face and another surge of warmth layers over the exertion.
You give her a thumbs up and she feels like lightning.
They reset and she’s off, like a streak of light in the night sky, she’s shuffling the puck towards the goal.
Then you see the navy uniform barreling towards her, voice caught in your throat as Vi gives the puck one last shot before that damned Jersey Number Six shoves her so hard, she’s flinging into the rink’s wall.
The horn chugs, signaling the end of the second period and the stands erupt in a ceremonious cheer as the playback reveals that Vi had sunk the puck before time.
“Fuck yeah!” you cry out, shooting to your feet to clap your hands.
Vi ignores the instigating chants to fight, only really pays attention to your little dance of excitement as she shakes off the other player and rejoins her team for intermission.
“Fuck, Vi, you got it bad, huh?” Abigail Anderson’s spearheading the teasing once they all return to the locker room at the end of the game.
Vi’s body heats at the thought, isn’t really in the business of denying it anymore, because, you know what? Yeah. Vi’s got it so fucking bad for you, she doesn’t even know what to do with herself. You’re her first thought, her final prayer, and everything in between.
So all she does he shrug, can’t help the grin that splits her lips as she rubs her towel through her sweat-damp hair.
She’s the first one out of the locker room, dressed in some sweats and a pullover, towel slung around her neck as she steps into the tunnel. Your contact’s pulled up, and she’s ready to fire off a text asking where you want her to meet you, but she stops short to see you already leaned outside of the change room’s doors.
“Hey, cupcake,” she murmurs, smiling hard when she finds the smudged number 5 still chalked on your face.
“Hi, Violet,” you return shyly, hands clasped behind your back.
She hears the telltale whoosh of the locker room doors, the chattering of her teammates as they poke their heads out into the hall to be nosy, but she’s guiding you along, throwing a wink over her shoulder as the two of you fall into step.
“Thank you for coming,” Vi says after a moment. “You being here really meant a lot to me.”
You don’t know if Vi’s always been this sentimental, but just never given the opportunity to showcase it, or if she’s just buttering you up, but you can’t help but beam at her with pearly teeth and dimpled cheeks.
“God, Violet, you were so good!” you say excitedly, a little skip in your step. “You were in the rink, skating circles around them, like this, and like this.”
She bursts into laughter as you start speeding down the tunnel, dodging garbage bins and jumping up into the air to click your heels.
Something falls out of your little fannypack when you land, and Vi’s crouching down to pick up the tulle baggie to find a little beaded bracelet with a gold clasp that reads puck off.
“What’s this?” Vi asks, and you stop your shenanigans to turn your attention to her.
When your expression falters and you’re running back to her at full speed, she’s holding the baggie up just a little too out of reach for you, grin smug.
“Is this for me, sweetheart?” she asks presumptuously, even though her heart’s thrumming hard in her ribcage.
You’re on your tiptoes, chest pressed against hers, and god, please! is all Vi can think when your head tilts up, a little defeated knit between your eyebrows.
She milks the fuck out of whatever this is, arm banding around your waist as she returns the baggie to you.
“Maybe,” you whisper finally.
“Maybe what?” Vi teases.
“Maybe it’s for you,” you respond, free hand coming to rest on her chest.
“And what do I have to do to get it?” she asks, voice low.
It makes your body jolt hard as a shiver slinks down your spine because there she is, the insufferable flirt who knows exactly what to say to have your brain turn to mush.
You seem like you’re contemplating for a moment and Vi’s breath is hitching in her throat, wondering if you’re willing to play this cat and mouse game with her.
You smile, something glinting in your warm eyes.
“Puck off.”
Your giggle is maniacal as you slip away, leaving her temporarily stunned before she chases you down the tunnel. And she should expect your speed, especially because you’ve got legs, but it takes her a moment to catch up with you when her practice bag’s thumping on her back like that. Her calloused fingers are closing around the flesh of your hips in no time and she’s pulling you back into her arms.
“Cough it up, sweetheart,” she huffs.
You whine.
“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you counter.
“Gimme, gimme, gimme.”
And you give in because Violet’s made you weak. She’s holding out her wrist as you free the multi-colored bracelet.
You barely clasp the closure in the ring before Violet’s stumbling into you, a big burly girl from the other team shoulder checking the fuck out of her.
“Nice job standing in the middle of the walk way,” she bites.
Violet only snorts a laugh.
“Whatever, good game,” she calls.
Whoever she is, stops, levels Vi with a deadly look before her gaze flits to the bracelet you’ve just fixed around her wrist to you who stands frozen into place as the tension crackles between them.
“Cute,” she observes and your skin prickles. “Let me take her for a spin?”
“Violet,” you warn when her shoulders square and she takes a step forward.
She looks torn between walking away and beating the shit out of whoever this instigator is, but one of her teammates is shoving her along.
“Leave it.”
Whatever that was shatters the moment between the two of you and Vi’s taking in a deep breath as Abby trails behind the two of you.
The girl whistles for good measure and you throw a dirty look over your shoulder.
She winks.
You’ve still yet to find out who hosts these parties, but this time around gives you a weird sense of deja vu as you climb the steps with Maddie in tow.
You and Vi had parted ways at the rink, not before extending you an invite to the celebration later in the evening.
You should come, I can pick you up.
But per usual, DD duties call, and you’d smiled up at her despite the lingering pressure from the prior confrontation and promised her that yes, you’d absolutely be there.
Maddie squeals from the step below as you climb the front porch, breaths coming out in puffs of steam.
“You look so hot,” she says excitedly.
You giggle nervously, sure hope you do because you’re freezing your ass off!
“Yeah?”
Maddie gives you an incredulous look, eyelids powdered with glitter and gaze lined charcoal. She’s looking extra cute tonight too and you know that the two of you could fall into an endless cycle of teasing because a certain someone’s probably inside tonight.
“If she doesn’t fuck you before the night ends, I will,” Maddie teases, and you’re warming unceremoniously at the thought.
Because maybe you’ve been thinking about it a lot more recently despite only going into this trying to get through these tutoring sessions and dipping. Especially as of late now that Vi’s made it a habit to FaceTime you after practice, on your walk to the library, dripping sweat and chest heaving.
You’d always seen the appeal, but now you feel it.
You smooth down your asymmetrical skirt and Maddie steps up to adjust your tits in your lowcut lace blouse just as the door swings open to reveal none other than Violet.
“Oh—” Her voice catches as she takes you in.
Maddie gives your ass a little swat and Vi’s gaze is following the movement as your roommate pushes past her to slip inside.
“I was— I was just about to step out. To, uh, to call you,” she stammers.
You breath out a little laugh.
“Here I am.”
“Yeah,” she agrees. “Here you are.”
Jesus, fuck Vi could burst into flames right now. Your boots hug your thighs and Violet’s not gonna lie, she really wishes it were her head squeezed between—
“You look...” Hot, so fucking edible, downright fuck— “...really nice.”
You smile, but you can’t help the way your teeth chatters.
“Fuck, shit, you’re probably cold,” she curses, warm hands closing around your shoulders to pull you inside. “Why didn’t you wear a jacket? You’re gonna get sick.”
I wanted you to want me.
“Guess I just forgot,” you say quietly.
She looks like she wants to scold you, but instead, she’s pulling down her coat, a big black work jacket, hanging from the banister of the stairs around your shoulders and you’re relishing the residual warmth that lingers there and her familiar scent.
“Can I get you a cider?” she asks. “It’s still warm.”
It hits you as her fingers curl through yours, that Vi’s truly nothing like what you initially thought. She’s sweet, and she’s respectful, and she’s everything you could ever hope for.
You freeze at the thought, and Vi’s glancing at you when she’s tugged to a stop.
“You okay?” she hums.
Your eyes search her face, gliding over the scar on her lip and the one slit through her eyebrow. The gold hoop pierced through her nose glints under the lowlight and her thick lashes flutter as she looks down at you.
You give her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes because wow, you’re in deep.
“I’m okay,” you assure her, give her fingers a squeeze for good measure.
When she finally secures you a mug of steaming cider, she’s guiding you to her group of friends that occupy the living room.
You only recognize Ellie, her best friend and her roommate, and Abby, the captain. Everyone else is a jumbled mix of names and faces and you stick close to Vi as she settles into the left corner of the couch.
You make a move to sit on the armrest, legs crossed and hands folded around your mug, but Vi’s spreading her legs and pulling you into her lap before you can effectively protest.
Her warmth immediately engulfs you and it takes every ounce of self control not to curl up into a ball in front of all her friends and classmates.
As they recap the game and catch up with each other, you remain hushed, eyes flitting from person to person as they speak. Toes curling whenever Violet’s voice vibrates in her chest as she talks big about sports and the hot teams this season.
You’re caught off caught when Ellie’s directing a question towards you and you barely register.
“What do you like to do?” she asks you.
All eyes audibly shift to where you’re cozied up in Vi’s lap, cider empty and abandoned on the side table.
“Uh.”
Your words are lodged in your throat because you’re so used to talking Vi’s ear off about your interests (namely, Animal Planet and your son Pip), showing her your little craft projects you like to do in front of the television on a weekend evening (you’d taken a break from the scarf / hat combo you were knitting to finish the bracelet you designed for Vi), and yapping about some obscure film you’d watched while finishing said projects.
But here, now, you don’t know what to say. Not when this isn’t your typical crowd and you don’t know what to expect from her friends.
Vi must feel your hesitation because her digits are slipping into her jacket, fingertips ghosting the small of your back as she presses a palm against your spine to smooth the tension there.
It’s okay, is a silent insinuation.
You give her a look from the corner of your eye before you turn your attention back to Ellie.
“I don’t do much,” you offer honestly. “Just starting my old cat lady duties early, I suppose.”
Ellie laughs benevolently.
“You have a cat?”
“Yes, his name’s Pip, and he’s basically my kid.”
“Cute,” Ellie coos. “You got any pictures?”
And you seem to light up, spare Vi one more glance as you dig in her coat pocket to produce your cellphone, charms jangling as you power it back on to show Ellie the lockscreen.
“I contemplated naming him Toothless from—”
“—How To Train Your Dragon!” Abby fills in from across the couch. “That’s such a good ass movie.”
It warms Vi to the bone, seeing you and her friends nerd out. Seeing them put in the effort because they know she likes you and seeing you reciprocate because, well, you’re you, and you just need a little warming up.
She doesn’t know how long you and her friends chat for until you’re shifting a little and turning your attention back to her.
“Can you show me the bathroom, please?”
Her gaze flits to her circle, and they’re smirking, obviously under the impression that this must be some sort of code the two of you concocted.
She ignores them, and most importantly she ignores the way her pulse jumps when you stand from your seat and perch between her legs, offering both of your neatly manicured hands to her.
This is getting fucking ridiculous.
The bathroom is tucked under the stairs near the front of the house and she stands post outside the door as you finish up.
It’s only when you’re poking your head outside the door sheepishly that she stands up straight.
“Can you help me with my zipper?” you ask timidly.
She puffs a laugh, slips in through the space you crack for her to find you holding the two sides of your skirt together.
And she knows she shouldn’t look, but the space allows her to see the pink lace of your panties. She’s shoving her tongue in her cheek, focusing on lining up the seams and pulling up your zipper as you hold the fabric taut.
“Thanks,” you whisper, looking up to see that Vi’s impossibly close to you in this cramped little powder room.
“Anytime, sweetheart,” she croaks, leaning against the counter as you wash your hands.
She thumbs the hem of your skirt absently.
“I like this,” she admits, gaze trailing up to meet yours. “You look pretty.”
Your ears burn, unable to meet the smolder of her steely eyes. You’d probably find that her pupils are blown wide if you did. Instead, you’re watching her mouth, lips stained cherry and tongue coming out to wet the dry patch.
You hold your breath as you reach across her for the hand towel, but her hands find your hips, teetering into dangerous territory as she moves almost close enough to slip her hands under your skirt.
“You’re not gonna say thank you?” she asks, watching you through hooded eyes.
A nervous giggle bubbles.
“Thanks, Violet,” you murmur.
“‘Course,” she agrees easily. “You gonna wear it again?”
You bite.
“If you ask nicely.”
She licks her lips again, body flexed as you allow her to press you closer. One of your hands splays on the counter behind her, the other brushing over the blooming bruise on her jaw.
“Can I?” she husks.
You don’t need to ask for clarification, not when her nose is nudging yours and your breaths are mingling.
“Yeah,” you sigh. “Pl—”
The door rattles with the ferocity of whoever’s knocking on the other side.
“Hurry up in there, I gotta piss!”
To your dismay, the two of you don’t talk about Saturday night. And things’s aren’t particularly bad, but something’s definitely shifted and it’s driving you nuts.
Vi’s on the ice practicing the following morning and after classes on Monday, so you wait for your session with bated breath on Tuesday. You try extra hard despite every voice of reason telling you that you’re reading into it too much.
Vi smiles at you easily as she drops into the seat across from you, pulling out her biometry textbook without so much as a peep about the fact that the two of you almost kissed in whoever the fuck’s bathroom that was over the weekend.
You’re staring, hard.
Because that familiar feeling’s coming back. The seedling of doubt that had rooted in the beginning about Vi’s intentions with you. She’d done a good job of weeding it out over the weeks, of dismantling whatever image you’d built of her in your head, but it plants itself again.
She’s squeezing your hand across the table and your gaze flits down to her rough fingers. That’s when you notice it, the bracelet, still fastened where you clasped it on game night.
You relax a fraction.
“Everything okay?”
You smile, something small.
“Yeah, good,” you assure her.
The rest of your tutoring session is uneventful, goes off without a hitch. And you’re shameless in admitting that you hate to see her go as she walks you to your car in the student lot near the library.
You’re grasping at straws, clearing your throat before she closes your door for you.
“Uh,” you squeak. “Do you want to come over?”
Vi’s pausing, hand still on the edge of your door as her lips twitch.
“Like right now?”
You nod because you’ve already pulled the trigger.
“Like right now,” you confirm.
She checks her wristwatch, sighs heavily because fuck yes, she’d love to come over right now, but Anderson and Williams are expecting her for a strategy meeting with the coach and—
“Sorry,” you say quickly. “You don’t have to, I know we only really—”
She pinches your cheek before tucking some of your hair behind your ear.
“I can’t tonight, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” she says. “But tell you what, if you’re willing to free up your Friday night, I’d really like to plan something.”
Your heartbeat skips.
“All yours,” you say without missing a beat.
Vi’s grinning wide.
“Perfect, drive safe,” she bids. “See you tomorrow.”
And you don’t know why you’re so fucking high strung, not when Vi hasn’t done anything to make you doubt that this isn’t all in your head, but it only gets worse as the days go by.
It doesn’t come to a head until Thursday, when your tutoring slots are miraculously empty until Vi’s and you receive an email from Medarda to meet in her office after her string of lectures.
“Afternoon,” the older woman greets, smiling warmly at you as she lets you into her office. “Just wanted to check in with your audit and request any feedback you have.”
You think for a moment before shaking your head.
“Nothing in particular that I can think of,” you say easily, then add with a laugh, “feel like I’ll be a professional by the end of the semester.”
“Why do you say that?” Medarda chuckles as she logs into her computer.
“I have a student sitting every Tuesday and Thursday for tutoring in your class,” you reveal.
She gives you look crossed between surprise and amusement.
“Really?”
“Yeah.” You giggle at the distant memory of Vi’s expression in the weight room. “She seems to be picking it up well enough, though.”
“Huh, every Tuesday and Thursday?” she asks, fingers flying over her keyboard. “I must be doing something wrong.”
“I’d hardly say that,” you say. “When Violet booked all my sessions, I thought it was a joke, but I think she’s just really dedicated to doing well.”
“Violet?” Medarda repeats, hands stilling over her mouse.
“Yeah, Violet, on the women’s hockey team?”
Your professor’s eyebrows twitch.
“Why would you— huh. Weird,” she comments.
“I admit it was a little strange, but—”
“Violet’s a consistent top scorer on the exams,” Medarda shares. “She’s been top of the class since the beginning of the semester.”
And it’s like the world stills as she reveals that information, fragile pieces shattering as the gears start turning in your brain and you try to put the puzzle together.
You glance at the clock, find that you’re due to meet Violet in half an hour.
“Uh, if you’ll excuse me,” you say politely, try to ignore the concerned expression etched on your professor’s face at your sudden departure. “It was nice chatting with you. If I think of anything feedback-wise, I’ll be sure to email you.”
And you’re running.
Vi’s in the locker room after practice, toweling off after an extra long shower because she’s been looking a little extra forward to seeing you today, but perhaps that’s everyday as of late.
She’s hooking the bracelet you gave her back on when her phone vibrates and she’s practically diving into her locker when your text tone bleats.
sweetheart: I have to cancel your session this afternoon. I’m sorry.
Her expression screws up.
everything ok? can i do anything for you?
sweetheart: Personal things to take care of. I’ll see you next week.
I’ll see you next week.
But what about tomorrow? She’d been working so fucking hard on tomorrow, on finally pulling her head far enough out of her ass to ask you to give the two of you a shot.
She sets her phone down, slumps down on the bench as she turns her wrist and takes in the smooth glass beads of the bracelet.
She sighs. Hard.
You hole up all weekend long, put your phone on do not disturb, and try your best to get whatever this is out of your system. But you’re a slave to your emotions and you can’t help but check your messages every time you know Vi’s free.
It’s a single text on a Saturday night, one that surprises you because you know she has practice now that the big game’s fast approaching.
violet <3: hey sweetheart, just checking in. i know you said you had a few personal things going on, but i’m here if you feel like you need someone <3
You’re texting back before your better judgement can stop you.
Just been a little stressed. You wanna come over?
.
.
.
Then you add, We can smoke.
Vi’s sending you three running emojis and you crack a smile at your screen before realizing that you need to shower.
You lay out some clothes beforehand, ultimately settling on last Saturday’s skirt.
Vi’s giggling as you fumble with the wrapper, rolling it with clumsy fingers because, truthfully, you don’t do this often, but she shuts right up when you don’t break eye contact as the tip of your tongue slides across the seam to seal the joint.
She’d picked you up with a Sprite and a slice to split from Valentino’s, throat drying as you bounded down the stairs in the same fucking skirt that had her touching herself after she’d gotten home from the party, guilty and wound tight. Now the two of you are tucked away behind some abandoned strip.
“Ready?” Her voice rasps as you pop the end between your lips and she brings the lighter to ignite the end for you.
It burns as you inhale and Vi’s thighs squeeze together involuntarily. She’d smoked with you twice before, both times on the roof of your apartment building and at a reasonable distance. But now, she knows what your body feels like, almost knows what your lips taste like.
You take a few more puffs before offering it to her and the smoke begins to plume to fill the space of her little coupe. It’s moments like these, tucked away from prying eyes, that it’s just you and Vi.
Not Vi, the supposed womanizing hockey star, or you, the nerdy homebody tutor. Just the two of you, two souls trying to get through university and carve your paths.
“I aced Medarda’s exam this week,” Vi says softly, jay pinched between her fingers as she watches you with lowering eyes.
“Oh, yeah? I wonder why,” you quip in return, face impossibly close to hers despite the console between you.
“I have a smartypants tutor that does an especially good job when she’s motivated,” she answers.
Your cheeks flame, but you don’t back down. Vi’s been extra good at pushing your buttons and flirting hard as of late, and maybe you’re a little more than willing to receive and reciprocate, but the two of you have been toeing the line, yet neither of you have taken the leap.
This moment, however, feels like it could be it. Like you’re going to find out what the fuck all of this even is.
“I have to meet this tutor of yours,” you play along. “She sounds like a miracle worker.”
“Among other things,” Vi teases, sucking in the smoke and blowing it through her nostrils.
“Like?”
“She’s also funny as fuck,” she hums. “A big baby when we watch Animal Planet.”
You narrow your eyes at her and Vi lets out a little laugh that makes your toes curl.
“Uh-huh?”
“She’s really fucking pretty too,” she says quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she affirms. “Kind of pretty that makes you wanna do bad, bad things.”
You smile falters as a shiver rips down your spine and before you know it, Vi’s putting out the joint before climbing in the cramped backseat of her car to spread her legs.
Doesn’t even give you a moment to process before she’s pulling you on top of her and allowing you to settle comfortably in her lap. Her hands run up your thighs and disappear under your skirt to grab the fat of your ass.
You breathe out a little giggle as your slender fingers come up to cup her jaw.
“Think my tutor’ll be mad at me?” Vi murmurs, nose brushing yours. “‘Cuz I really, really wanna kiss this pretty girl in my lap right now.”
You let out a broken little sigh when her hips buck.
“Maybe she’ll forgive you,” you whisper. “I know I would.”
And that’s all the affirmation Vi needs from you before she’s taking the plunge and slotting her lips with yours; kissing you with so much fervor, you’d think she needs you to breathe. She tastes like mint and weed and you can’t get enough.
Vi’s all-consuming, her kiss a delicious mix of teeth and tongue. And, god, her hands. Rough and calloused, but gentle in the way she explores your body. It isn’t until she’s snapping the band of your thong and her fingertips ghost the seam of your sticky heat that you’re hyper-focusing.
“Mmmph, Violet, Vi—” Your voice cracks as she breaks from your lips to map a series of kisses from your jaw, to the juncture behind your ear, down the column of your neck. “Wait.”
She stops, hands pulling from under your skirt like you’ve burned her. And perhaps you have, branded nearly every part of her because she can’t really think of a sound moment if you’re not there.
“Sorry, sorry,” she shudders as the arousal ebbs through her tightened body. “I—”
I’m caught up. I’m losing it, and it’s all your fault, and—
“Violet,” you swallow, fingers toying with the collar of her varsity sweatshirt. “I have something to say.”
Her throat bobs and her grey eyes gleam like ash in the lowlight of the backseat of her car. The windows are smoked out and it’s exceptionally warm, equal parts sexual tension and another thing Vi can’t quite pinpoint.
“Yeah, anything,” she assures you, hands resting on your waist instead. “You can tell me anything.”
One of your palms settles over her chest, right where her heart is and you suck in a sharp breath.
“I— uh, I really like you, Violet,” you admit quietly. “A lot more than I think I’ve ever liked someone in a long, long time.”
Oh.
Oh. Here it comes, the big fat rejection. The coming to your senses.
“But?”
The look on your face is devastating and Vi’s scared.
“I have to know that if I give you a chance, you won’t abuse it,” you hiccup, and wow, that’s definitely not what she expects you to say, but fuck does it leave a sour taste in her mouth.
“Abuse it?” she repeats, face crumpling.
“Violet,” you sigh.
“Abuse what?” she husks.
“I know you—”
“Do you?” she scoffs, a wave of irritation washing over her as she looks you with disappointment. “What gave you the idea that I would ever even dream of taking advantage of you giving me a chance?”
“You don’t necessarily have a spotless record, Violet,” you say, voice edged. “And I know that I’m not your usual—”
“Not my usual what?” The venom in Vi’s tone is uncharacteristic, but this is not at all how she expected tonight to go and she’s frustrated. “Not my usual type? You internalized all this shit that people say about me even though I’ve been trying to get you to see me for months.”
Emotion clogs your throat because a small part of you knows that Vi’s right. She’s never given you an outright reason to doubt her interest in you, but it all just seems too good to be true.
“Sue me for wanting to protect myself,” you choke, climbing out of her lap and back into the front seat. “Especially because I know that you don’t actually need help in Medarda’s class.”
And that catches Vi off guard. You see as much in the rearview mirror when she pales.
She clambers back into the driver’s seat.
“Who told you that?” she asks, not even bothering to deny the fact.
“I mentioned that I was tutoring you in passing when Medarda asked for feedback on her class,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “She asked why I’d be doing that when you’re top of all her sections.”
Violet’s voice is stuck in her chest.
“And then your past hook ups parade around campus like a reminder that—,” you cut yourself off, obviously hurt after bottling this all up. “And it isn’t any of my business, nor are we anything enough for me to plausibly upset—”
“Yes, I lied,” Vi admits quietly. “But only about one thing.”
Your breath catches.
“You’re right, I don’t need help in Medarda’s class. I lied about being clueless and I signed up for tutoring even though I didn’t need it,” she says.
“Why?”
“You know why,” Vi huffs. “From the moment I met you, I knew.”
It’s a glaring insinuation that makes you crack.
“No one ever says it out loud, but I know what everyone thinks,” you choke. “Violet’s fucking that loser?”
“You really believe that?”
“God, Violet, I don’t know what to fucking believe,” you cry out. “My life’s fucking fine and dandy and then you show up and make me fucking question everything I—”
Vi lets out a humorless laugh, can’t even look at you and it could make you sick.
“You’re so fucking loved by everyone, even those who won’t admit it,” you croak. “And you’re incredible at everything you do, turn everything you touch to gold, and I’m just...”
Vi’s brows furrow.
“You’re what?”
“I’m me,” you whisper meekly. “I’m just me and you’re you, and I just don’t see what makes me so different.”
And Vi realizes that she’d read it all wrong.
“Look at me,” she says softly, fingers tracing your jaw.
You knuckle your tears away, make a petulant noise in your throat.
“You wanna know why I booked all your stupid tutoring sessions?” she huffs. “Because I really fucking like you, ________. And it’s beyond wanting to fuck you even though god knows I’d fucking die if you let me. It’s so much more than having you physically. Because I’ll take being just friends with you if it means having you around. I don’t give a shit about anything else but you.”
It’s the most sound declaration you hear from the girl in the semester you’ve known her and it makes you cry.
“You make me feel so fucking normal and you remind me that I don’t need to be anything else but me,” she breathes. “And I get where you’re coming from, I hear you. I just really hope you hear me too.”
“I do,” you whisper. “I’m just—”
Vi squeezes your thigh, takes your hand in hers and brings your knuckles to her lips.
“Let’s get you home, okay?” she offers gently.
Vi only has one more game before the championships and she won’t lie and say that this limbo with you has her feeling like she’s going to be ill.
You’d cancelled her tutoring sessions this week, told her that maybe the two of you needed to spend some time apart and that she was clearly doing a number on you. So she agrees, tries to give you space to work through what’s weighing on you.
sweetheart: Good luck at your game tonight, Violet. I’m rooting for you.
She really wishes you’d be there, but she knows you need the time alone.
thanks, sweetheart. i appreciate you.
“Alright Vi, we have fifteen til puck drop,” Ellie says carefully, has been front row to everything transpiring between you and her best friend.
Vi tucks her phone away in her backpack, unhooks your bracelet from around her wrist and fastens it to the handle of her bag, and grabs her stick from the rack before she lets her teammates jostle her into the tunnel.
And she wishes she could lock in, clear her head and get into the game, but all she can think about is you.
It’s a narrow victory once the game ends, but she can’t find it in herself to celebrate, especially not at the kickback afterwards because fucking Sev and her assholes are there.
“Where’s your little dime piece?” she taunts.
“Fuck off,” Vi warns, obviously not in the mood.
“Shame,” she whistles. “She looks like a fucking weirdo, but she sure does have a fat ass—”
Ellie’s fist cracks so hard across her jaw.
“She told you to fuck off,” she hisses.
Sev spits the blood in her mouth on the toe of Ellie’s shoe, fists bunching the collar of her sweater.
“Keep that fucking energy on the ice because I’m gonna wipe the floor with your fucking pissbaby team.”
You wake up on Monday morning to a text from Vi and a handful of notifications from Instagram.
violet <3: can i see you this week?
You open Instagram.
sev.94 has requested to follow you!
sev.94 has sent you a message request!
Your brows furrow, opening the message request hesitantly. There’s a few DMs and a video from this Sev person.
sev.94 hey pretty, sorry to text you like this.
sev.94 just thought you should know the kind of person your little girlfriend is
sev.94 sent a video.
sev.94 i don’t really do relationships, but i’d take your mind off of it if you let me.
You’re playing the video, quality grainy and audio blasted. You don’t know what you’re looking at at first, it’s dark, and there’s so many voices. But you see skin, see the outline of a girl’s naked back, delicate and arched in pleasure.
You think this Sev person’s just fucking with you, playing some stupid joke with a shitty punchline as someone’s hands snake around to palm the flesh of the unnamed girl’s ass, but then you see it.
The bracelet.
Vi going to lose her shit for two reasons.
(1) Because you haven’t responded to her message despite your read receipts being on, and (2) she can’t fucking find the bracelet you’d gifted to her.
She’s barging into Ellie’s room, shirtless and hair dripping.
“Jesus, fuck, do you knock?” Ellie hisses, buds she was in the midst of grinding scattering across the floor.
“I can’t find the bracelet she gave me,” Vi says quickly.
Ellie’s face scrunches.
“Huh?”
“The bracelet ________ gave to me,” Vi says. “I hooked it on my backpack before practice on Saturday but it’s not there anymore.”
Ellie’s expression morphs, eyes narrowing in thought.
“Maybe you misplaced it,” Ellie offers. “Regardless, we practice tonight, I’ll help you look for it.”
Vi’s chest is tight, doesn’t want to admit that the stupid little bracelet means way more to her than she lets on. She only ever takes it off when she’s on the ice, won’t risk losing it when she’s got a target on her back and everyone plays rough.
It turns out to be futile when they enter the rink and she retraces her steps only to come up empty-handed.
This, she realizes, is the start of a very long week.
You should’ve seen it coming, really. Don’t know why you tried to psyche yourself into thinking that Vi could ever really want something with you when the world’s her fucking oyster and she can have anything she wants.
And you want to feel bad when she texts you intermittently through the days, checking in, offering to meet you, anything. But part of you is angry, unforgiving, tired.
You could’ve gone the rest of the school year unscathed if she’d just left you the fuck alone, but she pried and she tugged and she settled, and she made a home inside of you and you hate that you let her.
xxxx: i really miss you.
You block her number, block her social media, and even though finals are imminent, you now know that Vi’s been playing you for a fool this whole time and you cancel every last one of the sessions she’s booked.
You hope she’d get the message, figure that you’d caught onto her little game and aren’t willing to play anymore, but she doesn’t, that much is clear when you’re finishing up your two thirty session and find her stalking into the library just as the student leaves your table.
“Are we going to talk like adults or are you going to keep acting like—”
You don’t entertain a response, just pack your bag and sling the strap over your shoulder because the tears are bubbling and you don’t trust yourself not to break.
“Seriously?” Vi bites, hot on your heels as you throw all of your weight against the library doors and suck in the icy air.
“Leave me alone, Violet,” you warn.
“No, fuck that,” Vi spits, hand closing around your bicep. “You don’t— You don’t get to make me fall for you and then try to leave with no explanation.”
“Fuck you,” you whisper.
“What?”
“Fuck you, Violet,” you hiccup, yanking your arm from her grasp and putting as much distance as you can between the two of you. “I hope you and your friends got a good laugh out of it.”
Her face is screwing up and if she wasn’t confused before, she’s definitely confused now.
“Listen, I can’t fix something if I don’t know what’s wrong,” Vi argues. “I’m so fucking lost right now.”
You hate how believable she is. How the thought of hurting you seems so inconceivable to her. But that grainy video was clear enough.
“I hate you,” you murmur. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”
Your name comes out broken, like you’ve wounded her. But you’ve officially folded your hand, won’t dare look her in her eyes because the both of you know it’s not true.
The championships roll in fast like a tide and neither your or Violet are ready for it.
You hear they’re live streaming the game, it’s the most anticipated one in the season. Piltover Stallions against the Zaun City Tigers. A part of you wishes you could support them, but then you’re starkly reminded that you’re a laughingstock amongst them.
The library on a Friday night is as quiet as can be, the hum of the fluorescents background to the voices in your head that are loud. You’re so engrossed in the study material that you don’t realize someone’s making a beeline for you until they’re knocking on the tabletop.
Ellie Williams stands before you in all her lean glory, hands sunk in her pockets as she stares down at you.
“Aren’t you supposed to be playing?” Your tone is clipped, disinterested because you believed that you and Ellie could be friends once upon a time.
“Coach sat me out because I socked one of those dickhead Zaun City Tigers in the mouth last weekend.”
You humph.
“Listen, we don’t have much time left, so I’m going to make this short and sweet,” she says. “Whatever happened between you and Vi is obviously personal and that typically would have nothing to do with me, but she can’t get her shit together because all she can think of is you.”
“And that’s my problem because...?”
“I know that Vi comes off a certain way, but she’s my best friend, like my best friend in this entire shithole of a world, and she’s—”
“No offense, Ellie,” you cut her off. “But if Vi sent you here to plead her case, I think that’s pathetic and—”
“Okay, well maybe if you shut up for three seconds and let me get to my point—”
You close your textbook and shove it in your backpack before standing to signal the end of the conversation.
“Whatever, I don’t have time for this.”
Ellie watches you walk away, takes in a deep breath because wow, you’re a bitch when you’re mad, but she absolutely gets why Vi is whipped.
“Violet’s in love with you.”
And that statement makes you freeze. Tears cloud your vision as your fists tighten around the strap of your bag.
“If you fuck someone else while you’re in love, I want nothing to do with it,” you bite.
Ellie’s brows shoot up.
“Whoa, what?”
“Violet fucked someone else as soon as things got tough, and if that’s the kind of person she is in love, I’d rather be alone,” you say stiffly.
“Respectfully, there’s no way Vi’s interested in getting pussy from anywhere else with how down bad that bitch is for you, but even if she was, I spend over seventy percent of my day with her and know that all she’s been doing the past two weeks is moping over the fact that you handed her ass to her on a silver platter.”
“There’s a video.”
Ellie’s brows must be mingling with her hairline right about now.
Her reaches a palm out.
Show me.
You open the DM from sev.94, watching as Ellie’s expression morphs from morbid curiosity to disbelief, to a quiet rage.
She’s handing your phone back to you and grabbing you by your forearm.
“She’s fucking dead.”
When you enter the rink, the ice is tense.
It’s the middle of the second period and the game is tied 3—3.
Your eyes comb the playing area, can’t find Vi’s jersey number in the mix, but finally settle on her on the bench, shoulders terse and obviously on edge.
She doesn’t clock you yet, had given up on the idea of patching things up with you after your last conversation.
“Vi’s been missing her bracelet since practice on Saturday,” Ellie’d told you on the way there, then pulled out her phone to show you the photo she’d taken of Vi passed out in nothing but her boxers on the couch the night of the last game, fucked up and sad. “We went out for like an hour after the game, but that was it. Vi was too fucking in her head.”
The girl from the tunnel, the one who’d been taunting the two of you, you piece together, has been the one behind it all, stirring the pot.
Throughout the end of the second period and all through intermission, Vi doesn’t notice you, too busy trying to get off the fucking bench to survey the crowd.
It’s only during final puck drop in the third period that their coach finally gives in, smacks the back of her helmet and tells her to make him proud that she lifts her head up.
And there, front and center of the student section is you.
Her eyes are wide, body frozen in place as she tries to figure if you’re just a figment of her imagination, but then the horn’s blaring and she’s having to zone back in.
At this point in time, she doesn’t give a fuck if they win or lose, she just needs to get to you.
“Your little bitch looks cute tonight,” Sevika comments wolfishly. “Bet she tastes as good as she looks.”
Vi easily intercepts her pass, cuts between two players as she shuffles it along with practiced precision. She sends the rubber flying and the goalie narrowly misses block.
“Maybe if you played as good as you ran your mouth, you’d wipe the floor with my pissbaby team you big bitch,” Vi calls, resetting in their corner.
And perhaps you’re her good luck charm, the only thing she needed to see to get back into it, because Vi reignites. The adrenaline pumping through her veins fuels every shot, and soon the timer’s buzzing.
7—5.
The roar is deafening, but you’re all she sees in the ocean of cowbells and pompoms.
She barely inches forward before something arcs through the sky and lands before her feet.
Her bracelet.
You watch from the sidelines, the final confirmation as Vi picks up the loop and launches herself at Sevika.
The crowd cheers.
Fight, fight fight!
You don’t know how many swings Vi gets in, just know that she’s flashing you a bloody smile before she skates off the ice.
Ellie emerges from the locker room and you’re perking up.
Most, if not all, of Vi’s teammates had come and gone and you’d been waiting patiently, anxiously, for her to emerge since the end of the game nearly an hour ago.
“She’s the last one in there,” is all Ellie says before strolling off.
“What if...what if she doesn’t want to see me?” you ask hesitantly.
Ellie chuffs a little laugh, doesn’t bother turning as she calls from halfway down the hall, “Find out for yourself, sweetheart.”
Vi’s pulling a tank top over her head as soon as you enter and your cheeks bloom when you catch a split-second of her tits.
She glances up at you, nose bruising and lip busted.
“Hey,” she spares you, stuffing her uniform and skates into her gym bag.
“Hi,” you squeak.
A pregnant pause as you take her in, hesitant to close the distance between the two of you.
“Didn’t think you’d make it,” she observes.
And you don’t really have a bullshit response, know that you had every intention of staying as far away as humanly possible, so you settle on humming your agreement.
“Ellie told me,” she starts. “Why you lashed out on me.”
You swallow.
“And part of me gets it, I really do,” she continues, “but I also thought you had more faith in me than that.”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Fuck, Violet, I’m so sorry.”
“I told you to free up Friday night a few weeks ago,” she says, shuts her locker door and slumps down on the bench behind her. “I was going to tell you everything, officially ask you out, but then all that shit happened and it caught up to me.”
You take a step forward, and then another, and another until you’re standing in front of her.
“You have to know that I would never do something like to anyone, but especially not to you,” she says softly, taking your hands in hers.
“I know.”
She brushes her lips against your knuckles, pulls you in closer so that you’re standing between her legs.
“You’re right,” she continues, voice hoarse. “I don’t have a spotless track record, but I meant it when I said that I don’t give a shit about anyone else but you. I would give you anything I can if you let me.”
Your hands rest on her shoulders, her chin resting against the plush of your belly as you look down at her, speechless.
“That night, in the car, you said that you didn’t see what made you so different.”
“I don’t,” you admit.
Vi stands, caging you between strong arms as she drops her face into the hollow of your neck. You shiver when you feel her lips press to the skin there.
“We could start off with the obvious.”
One of her hands rests on the small of your back, pulls you flush so that the only things that separate you are the flimsy fabrics of your clothes. The other grabs a handful of your ass.
“I meant it when I said that you’re the kind of pretty that makes me wanna do bad things.”
You gulp, thighs squeezing as her lips part and she bites.
“Vi.”
“You got a giant brain,” she laughs breathily, fingers coming around the fiddle with your belt.
She kisses you, mouth hot and breath warm. It’s better the second time around, no doubt obscuring you from truly indulging.
“Pl—ease.”
“You’re kind and you’re selfless, and you’re my sweet, sweet little crybaby.”
“Violet,” you sigh breathlessly. “Listen to me.”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Fuck me,” you pant. “Please.”
Violet nearly runs two red lights and whips into your neighborhood on two wheels.
The two of you are stumbling up the stairs and she’s spanking your ass on the last step as you fiddle with your keys and try to find the right one under the dim light of the complex hall.
Violet’s already unbuckling her belt as you turn the key, nearly taking you down as she shoves you inside and up against the front door.
“Maddie home?” she breathes.
“Out of town,” you answer quickly, kicking off your sneakers and pulling your sweater over your head. “Visiting her family upstate.”
“Perfect,” Vi hums. “I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on your couch.”
“Oh–”
One of her rough hands comes to cup your tit over your bra, her tongue laving over the other while her free hand makes work of the clasp.
You walk her back to the couch, stand between her knees as she flops back into the seat. Her arms spread over the back as she settles in, legs widening to give you ample room to strip.
Her eyes never leave yours as you easily unclasp your bra and shimmy out of your jeans, leaving you in nothing but a tight pair of little lace panties and pink socks that has Vi wet.
“C’mere,” she rasps, pulling you to straddle her lap.
Her lips immediately latch onto one of your pebbled nipples, tongue hot as her hands wander.
“Fuck.”
“Tell me what you want,” she husks, biting down on the swell of your breast.
And having Violet this close, her touch excruciatingly featherlight and tempting, you wind tight.
“Want you inside of me,” you whimper, fingers fixing around her throat. “Please.”
“Yeah?” she eggs you on, lips brushing yours as her palms settle on your ass. “You want me to fuck you?”
You nod eagerly, hips rolling in her lap as her breath pitches.
“Vi.”
Her nickname puffing from your lips makes her crack. You’re wound in her arms, face in her neck as she peels your thong taut, away from your waiting cunt, and runs her fingertips from your slit down to your clit.
“F...F—uck,” you sigh.
“Holy shit,” she marvels, licking her lips when she easily glides through your folds. “You’re really fucking wet.”
You grind down against her, clothed clit catching against her belt buckle. The cool metal sends a jolt through your pussy and you’re moaning loud in her ear.
And Violet really wants to take her time with you, wants to milk the first time she ever gets to fuck you for as long as she humanly can, but she’s still fully dressed and you’re practically naked, perfect tits pressed to her chest and fat ass in the palm of her hand.
She shifts you further into her, so that she can peek over the arch of your back as she sinks her middle and ring finger three knuckles deep into your needy heat.
“Ah, fuck, Violet.” Your voice breaks as she starts pumping into you, your arousal coating her fingers and the sound of her easily slipping through your pussy reverberating through the living room. “Fuckfuckfuck.”
She kisses your jaw, litters them until she’s catching your lips and licking crudely into your mouth.
You cry out when her fingers slip out.
She’s leaning the both of you forward, easing you from her lap and onto the couch as she takes a moment to shuck her shirt off and pull her belt through the loops in one tug.
You watch her through it all, the way the trim muscles of her biceps and shoulders flex as she leans over you, takes you by the ankles and yanks you until your ass is half-hanging from the edge of the couch.
She kneels before you, strips you out of your thong.
You don’t miss the way she shoves the soiled fabric in her jeans pocket.
“Jesus,” she breathes, gaze fluttering between your eyes and your pussy. “You’re so fucking pretty, sweetheart.”
Your toes curl at the praise, fingers closing around where Vi’s holding your legs apart.
“You know how bad I’ve been wanting to taste your pussy?” she rasps, gathering the lewdest amount of spit to dribble onto your clit. When you don’t answer, she’s freeing a hand to slap your slit.
“Nnngh, fuck!”
“Think I’ve always wanted to have you,” she admits. “But it was that stupid party fucking party and that stupid fucking skirt. God, I would’ve fucked you in that skirt if you let me.”
“Yeah?” you whine breathlessly. “Tell me.”
She’s stuffing you again without warning, curling her fingers in a way that has your back arching off the couch.
“Would’ve bent you over that sink and made you watch yourself while I ate you out,” she says easily.
And it’s so fucking delicious, the nasty shit Vi’s saying to you while she pounds your aching heat; the way she finally gives in and tastes you, sucking on your clit like she’s starved and you’re the only thing that can sate her hunger.
Your fingers curl through her hair as you teeter dangerously over the edge, nails grazing her scalp and tugging when she hits the spot deep inside of you that has you keening for more.
“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum,” you choke. “Holy fuck.”
You feel Vi grin against your pussy, watch her with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes because the sight of her between your legs in your moonlit living room has your insides twisting hard.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” she encourages you. “Cum all over my fingers. Wanna see you gush.”
“Hah, h—” Your thighs tighten around her head, fingers curled so hard in her hair, she moans in a mix of pleasure and pain. “Don’t stop, Vi, please.”
She moans into your cunt, savoring the heady taste of you as you practically ride her face.
The sound that fills the room is downright filthy, the sight that Vi beholds when she peeks from where she’s devouring you equally so. It’s picturesque, the way she has you writhing. A sheen of perspiration glistens over your flesh as she eats you out and it’s a perfect mix of her tongue and her fingers that send you soaring over the edge.
It’s a pitched whine that echos, the staccato of your shaky breathing that sings like music in her ears as you cum. And hard.
Her lashes flutter against the skin of your inner thighs as she peppers kisses there, her lips slick with spit and arousal.
“Fuck, babe,” she whispers. “That was...”
She can’t really choose a specific word, is just mind blown at the fact that she’d just made you cum so hard and so fast. It makes her tense and tingle, a smug wave of pride washing over her as she starts mouthing a trail from your belly, between the valley of your tits, up your throat, to finally press a chaste one on your lips.
You taste yourself first and foremost, but then you taste everything she’s ever wanted to say to you, all the unspoken words and the things she’d been too scared to share. Feel it in the way her hands are roaming, squeezing, caressing.
You breathe a disbelieving laugh, peck her lips again when she pulls away to brush your hair from your face.
“Vi—” Your breath hitches and your eyes glaze.
“I know, I know.”
You wrap your arms around her shoulders, legs hooking around the narrow of her waist as she bears your weight and picks up your boneless figure.
“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”
The sun is warm against your skin when you wake up the following morning, your bedroom bathed in an orange glow.
You feel bone tired, body sore and muscles tight as your arm sweeps the other side of the bed in search of balmy skin, but instead you’re met with cool sheets and swelling dread.
You sit up quickly, find that you’re still naked, and take a moment to asses your bedroom. The bathroom door’s cracked, light off, and everything else is exactly where you left it.
Everything except Vi.
Oh, you think to yourself.
Almost don’t want to leave your room because your empty apartment will be confirmation enough that Vi really did get the last laugh in the end.
But you force yourself out of bed, shrug on an oversized t-shirt before finding the living room just as still as it had been before the two of you had barreled in the night before and she’d left her mark on you.
The only sign that the entire thing wasn’t just a figment of your imagination was Vi’s belt strewn haphazardly on the coffee table.
You feel hollow, almost numb, and even if a persistent part of your brain was consistently telling you that you should’ve known better, the tears well in your eyes because you’d really hoped Violet was different.
You knuckle the tears away angrily, mind racing far too fast to register the door quietly unlocking and the soft footfalls coming down the hall.
“Babe?”
Your gaze snaps up.
Like a vision, Vi’s standing in the doorway, a handful of plastic bags in tow. She’s wearing her clothes from last night and the puffs under her eyes make her a little worse for wear.
She sets the bags down on the eat-in, rounds the couch to take you by the shoulders.
“What’s wrong?” she worries. “What’s going on?”
You hiccup, crumpling in her arms because you were so fucking scared.
“Thought you left,” you croak.
Vi breathes a sigh of relief, blowing out a hollow laugh because her girl’s such a baby.
“You have jack shit in your fridge,” she teases lightly. “How am I supposed to make you a five star breakfast with greek yogurt and carrot sticks?”
You whine.
“Don’t care about breakfast,” your muffled voice sounds from where your face is pressed in her chest. “Just wanted to wake up to you.”
Violet groans.
“You’re so cute,” she laughs, kissing the top of your head.
“I wanna go back to bed,” you mutter petulantly, emotional whiplash making your eyes droop.
“You’re not gonna let me make you breakfast?” Vi picks, smoothing the hair from your face.
Your eyes catch the bracelet refastened around her wrist and you grin softly, taking her fingers to press a kiss to her palm.
She could combust, gaze gooey as she watches you watch her.
Yeah, Vi has a huge problem.
One that’s particular, and overarching; one she doesn’t think she can go without.
A/N: y'all i did it... but jsyk i started writing this before the finale so unfortunately this isn't the hate sex some of y'all were hoping for, but i mean if y'all really want it i wouldn't mind making it happen (◠‿◕)
MEN, MINORS, AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI
Ever since Vi became an Enforcer, she knew that there’d be those that wouldn’t want her there. Entitled Pilties that think she’s leeching off the head of the Kiramman household for whatever stupid reason they came up with. Honestly, she was okay with that. She spent her entire life being judged and discriminated against by Topsiders; at this point, she really couldn’t give less of a fuck.
However, even she had her limits.
Vi barged into Caitlyn’s office (being the only one in the entire precinct with enough audacity to do so), kicking the door shut and plopping down in one of the chairs in front of Cait’s desk. She was visibly fuming, her arms crossed tightly in front of her as her leg bounced with agitation.
Even though she wasn't looking at her directly, Vi knew Cait was watching her, waiting for her to justify her behavior.
“Cupcake, I’ve had it up to here with your little girlfriend, okay?!” Vi sneered.
Caitlyn rolled her eyes at that, sighing and dropping her pen onto the desk.
“Vi, how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling her that? Maddie is not my girlfriend, you are!”
“Then can you please remind her so she can leave me the fuck alone?!”
Cait went silent for a moment as she took in Vi’s words.
“What do you mean by that? Has she been giving you problems?”
Vi scoffed. “Uh, yeah! I swear, ever since you broke things off with her, she keeps… staring at me!”
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “Staring…?”
“Yes, staring!” Vi repeated. “I swear, it’s like she has some sort of problem with me, or something!”
“And since when did you care if someone had a problem with you?” Cait frowned.
Vi prepared to say something, but she just sighed, rubbing her temple.
“Look, typically I really wouldn’t give a shit– I wouldn’t have even come to you if it were anyone else but, you know…”
Vi gave Caitlyn a genuine look, and she finally understood.
“Alright, I’ll… I’ll speak to Maddie myself, okay? I’ll see what’s going on.”
Vi nodded silently, standing up to leave. “Thanks, Cupcake.”
“Oh, and Vi?” Caitlyn called just before she left.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Vi smiled, her shoulders visibly relaxing. “I love you too, Cupcake.”
Feeling a sense of relief, Vi opened the door, only for a body to come tumbling down from the other side.
Vi jumped back, her fists instinctively came up to shield her face, ready for a fight.
“What the- Maddie?!”
The junior officer brushed herself off, grabbing the beret that fell off her head and fixing it back on. “Oh, Vi… top o’ the morning…”
Cait silently observed in confusion, but at this point, Vi was enraged.
“Do you see what I mean?!” she shouted. “Why the fuck is she here?!”
Before Cait could offer an answer, Vi was picking up Maddie by her collar, the smaller woman’s feet dangling in the air as she yelped.
“What’s your fuckin’ problem with me, Nolen?” Vi questioned aggressively. “What is it about me that’s bothering you so damn much, huh?!”
Maddie spluttered, struggling to find an answer as she fought to find some sort of footing.
“I don’t… I–”
At this point, Caitlyn was growing increasingly frustrated that she was being inhibited from completing her paperwork, so she decided to put an end to the shitshow immediately.
“That’s enough!”
Vi and Maddie both froze, turning their attention to the Sheriff.
“Vi, please put Junior Officer Nolen down, now.”
The redhead did just so, setting Maddie down gently (though she felt more inclined to just drop her).
“Maddie, close my door.”
Maddie gulped, wordlessly turning and closing the door to Caitlyn’s office.
“Now,” the sheriff sighed, clasping her hands together, “from what I understand, there seems to be some sort of dispute between the two of you.”
Maddie furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t have any problem with–”
“Yeah fuckin’ right!” Vi interrupted with a scoff. “Ever since Cait dumped you you’ve been eyeing me like I got something that belongs to you!”
Maddie blinked a few times, her cheeks starting to redden in a blush.
“I… I have?”
Vi rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that shit, Nolen. Every time I happen to glance your way, you’re staring right at me!”
Maddie averted her gaze as she began nervously playing with her fingers. “Oh…”
“Oh, so you’re not even gonna deny it?” Vi sneered, marching right up to Maddie and harshly grabbing her cheeks to turn her face back towards her. “What’s your fucking deal, Nolen?”
Maddie gasped, her blush spreading to the rest of her face. She gulped, seemingly steeling her resolve, before opening her mouth to speak.
“You’re pretty…”
A beat of silence.
“W-What…?”
Maddie took a deep breath in to cool herself down.
“I-I have to admit Vi… at first, I was kind of jealous of you. I guess at first, I really was glaring at you.”
Vi finally let go, taking a step back and raising her eyebrow. “But…?”
“But,” Maddie spoke again, fiddling with the edge of her shirt, “the more I watched you, the more I found myself becoming… attracted to you.”
Caitlyn was still eerily silent. She’d never imagined the scenario before her ever happening but she wasn’t going to complain about it, either. If she played her cards right…
“A-Attracted… to me?” Vi rasped out in shock. Her breathing became heavy, and she couldn’t tell whether it was from anger or anticipation.
Maddie nodded. “You… you’re very pretty, Vi. I never considered you to be my type but–” she turned to Caitlyn– “I see the appeal.”
Caitlyn said nothing as she looked between Maddie and Vi, letting her girlfriend attempt to handle this situation on her own.
After being paralyzed with shock, Vi finally let out a scoff, which turned into a chuckle. She stuck her hands in her pocket, slowly making her way over to Caitlyn’s chair.
“You hear that, Cupcake? Your little girlfriend thinks I’m pretty…”
Caitlyn side-eyed her, waiting for the redhead to continue.
“…So much so that she couldn’t keep her eyes off me for months. To top it all off, she even followed me to your office, for who knows why.”
Maddie gulped, keeping her eyes glued to the floor in front of her. She gasped when her chin was suddenly forced upwards, being met with Vi’s cloudy grey eyes.
“So now what, Nolen?” Vi muttered huskily. “You told us exactly how you feel, n’ you got us both right where you want us, so what now?”
Maddie’s breath quickened, her eyes dropping to Vi’s lips for a brief second before returning her gaze.
“I… I think this is something we could maybe talk about another time…?”
Before Vi could answer, Caitlyn stood, cutting the conversation short.
“You know what? Officer Nolen is right,” she announced. “Do keep in mind we are still on the clock.”
This time, Caitlyn allowed herself a slight smirk, turning her attention to Maddie.
“Maddie, why don’t you come pay us a visit tomorrow?” The taller woman offered. “I feel the relaxed environment would be more suitable for this sort of dilemma… how does that sound?”
Maddie, visibly stunned, stuttered for a moment, before finally finding a response.
“Uh… y-yeah, sure.”
🢝 🢝 🢝 🢝
“O-Oh fuck… Vi…”
The redhead simply hummed in response, her mouth occupied on Maddie’s neck. She alternated between kissing, biting, and sucking, anything to elicit those cute little sounds she’s been making since Vi got her hands on her. Vi’s hands in question were roaming Maddie’s body, shamelessly groping her ass as she pulled her ever closer.
The warmth building up within Maddie’s body was starting to grow unbearable, despite the slightly revealing spaghetti strap dress she currently had on (she had to admit, though she’d have no problems with simply coming over to talk, she prayed that her visit would lead to something a bit more… physical).
“Sure you don’t wanna join in, Cupcake?” Vi asked Caitlyn from the crook of Maddie’s neck. “I'm sure our little guest would enjoy her visit more if we both showed her a bit of hospitality…”
Oh my god, yes please! Maddie begged in her mind.
Caitlyn was currently seated on a chair efficiently placed in front of the bed, which happened to offer a splendid view of the two women making out on the mattress before her. She took a sip from the cup of tea she poured herself, humming at the sweet taste of organic raspberry leaf.
“I’m quite alright at the moment,” she respectfully declined, “I believe the two of you should spend some time working out your differences first. Though, I may feel more inclined to join a bit later on.”
Vi only shrugged before bringing her attention back to Maddie. She grabbed the smaller woman’s neck, pulling her in for a nasty kiss full of tongue. She swirled the muscle around Maddie’s own for a few seconds before pulling away, a string of saliva stretching out between their lips.
“Why don’t you take this off for me, sweetheart?” Vi muttered as she tugged at Maddie’s dress.
Maddie nodded, wordlessly tugging her dress off of her body and tossing it to another part of the room. She nervously bit her lip when she noticed Vi’s teasing stare.
“Lace?” she questioned. “Oh, you really came here hoping to get fucked, huh?”
Maddie shrugged. “Guess there isn’t a point in denying it anymore, is there?”
The younger woman grabbed Vi’s face, pulling her in for another kiss as they fell back on the mattress. Vi growled into Maddie’s mouth, rough hands coming up to harshly palm at her breasts. A whimper turned into a gasp as black lace was torn apart, dusty pink nipples hardening as they were exposed to the cool air.
“Vi!”
Vi hummed as she kissed a trail down Maddie’s chest, the tip of her nose following the trail her lips left.
“Sorry, ‘m getting a bit impatient.”
Maddie let out a curse as she felt the wet warmth of Vi’s tongue envelop a nipple, her back arching off the bed as her legs wrapped around Vi’s waist.
“Fuck, so am I… just fuck me already…”
Vi scoffed, and Caitlyn simply offered an amused huff.
“Don’t think you can boss me around just ‘cause you’re getting what you want,” the muscled woman grumbled, punctuating her warning with a bite to Maddie’s breast.
Maddie yelped, her body flinching from the pain. Still, that didn’t stop her audacious behavior.
“What I want is for you to stop fucking talking so much and just eat me out or something!”
At that, Vi pulled away, sitting back on her heels as she glared at the ginger in front of her. Maddie, realizing she was a bit out of line, shrunk in on herself, her face turning a deep shade of red.
“P-Please…?”
Vi squared her jaw, before shaking her head and sighing. “Y’know, I see why Cait likes you so much,” she mused as she tugged Maddie’s black panties down her legs. She had half a mind to shove them into Maddie’s mouth, but ultimately decided against it. Instead, she grabbed Maddie’s thighs to pull her closer before holding her by the back of her knees to keep her legs spread open.
“It’ll be fun to get you off that damned high horse of yours.”
That was all that was said before Vi finally dove into her, her tongue tasting all that Maddie had to offer. She groaned as her tongue delved into Maddie’s hole, relishing in the sweet essence that was her arousal. And fuck, was there so much of it, the anticipation building up over the last two days keeping the woman soaked. Vi ate Maddie out like she was her last meal, her strong hands keeping Maddie’s legs firmly tucked against her chest.
Maddie, on the other hand, was absolutely losing her mind. She’s dreamed of this. Touched herself to the thought of this. Nothing, absolutely none of it, could’ve actually prepared her for the real thing. Vi was inexplicably good at giving head. Every time Vi decided to slip her tongue into her pussy, her nose nudged her clit, sending a hot jolt down her spine that had her thrusting her hips into Vi’s mouth. And when Vi decided to finally give attention to her aching clit— holy shit, it was like Maddie’s third eye opened, the pleasure alone had her feeling on top of the world. She kept one hand tangled in Vi’s hair and the other bunched in her own, sweet cries of pure bliss escaping her slacked jaw and spit-covered lips.
“Oh my– o-oh my god, fuck… Vi!”
Vi only responded with a whine of her own; she was clearly enjoying herself down there, eating Maddie simply for her own pleasure and nothing else.
Cait quietly watched the scene before her, one leg crossed over the other as she began pouring herself another cup of tea and adding a spoonful of sugar. Her scrutinizing blue eyes traced the curves of the women’s bodies, especially zeroing in on where Vi’s mouth moved diligently against Maddie’s core. It was as though she had front row seats to her own private show, everything on such clear display for her viewing pleasure. She couldn’t tell whether the warmth sizzling inside of her was from the tea or the two women making a mess on her bedsheets, but what she did know is that she’d feel the need to join them very soon. She pried her eyes away from the main event for just a moment to examine Maddie’s face. Her fucked out expression, her scrunched eyebrows, her eyes that were squeezed shut, the staccato breaths that left her lips… Maddie was going to cum, and very soon.
“Vi… Vi, please I’m so close… I’m, I– oh, ohfuck!”
Maddie clawed at the bedsheets as her orgasm rushed through her, her entire body quivering with the white-hot rush of ecstasy. Vi didn’t stop, though. She didn’t even slow down her ministrations against Maddie’s cunt. She ignored the sporadic twitching of her hips, Maddie’s whines from overstimulation, and even her unsuccessful attempts at closing her legs against Vi’s strong hands.
Maddie’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as both of her hands tangled themselves in Vi’s hair. Her back arched with each insistent swipe of Vi’s tongue.
“Oh my– Vi, shit… Vi, I already, mmph oh my fucking–”
Maddie went tumbling headfirst into another orgasm, this one knocking the wind out of her. Yet, Vi didn’t stop, nor did she show any signs of stopping. The stimulation was bordering on overbearing at this point, and Maddie turned her head to Caitlyn in hopes that she could talk Vi out from between her legs.
“Oh, I’m sorry dear,” Caitlyn apologized, despite the obvious lack of sympathy in her voice, “Vi’s enjoying herself so much that I don’t believe she plans on stopping anytime soon.”
And Caitlyn could not have been more right in that moment. One, two, three orgasms later, and Vi was still devouring Maddie from the inside out. At this point, Maddie was barely present, her entire body going slack on the bed. Her eyes couldn’t even focus, and all she could muster at this point were pitiful whimpers.
“No…” she whined weakly. “Vi…”
Caitlyn let out an amused hum, grabbing her teapot in hopes to pour another cup of tea, only to find that it was completely empty. She tsked in annoyance, finally standing from her seat.
“Vi, be nice.”
At the sound of Cait’s authoritative voice, Vi finally lifted herself up from between Maddie’s legs.
“Just look at the poor thing,” Cait mumbled, “I fear you may have broken her.”
Vi put Maddie’s legs down, and the ginger woman immediately took the chance to squeeze them shut, whimpering a small fuck as she did so.
“‘S not my fault,” Vi grunted, “she was getting arrogant.”
“Oh yeah?” Cait challenged as she began stripping down herself, until she was left in just a camisole and panties. Her pebbled nipples poked through the sheer fabric, and Vi couldn’t help but lick her lips at the sight. Her eyes moved down, taking in the entirety of Cait’s lithe figure: her long legs, her gentle curves, and a face with looks that could kill.
Damn, how did she manage to get so lucky?
It was seductive, the way Caitlyn’s hips rocked as she stalked over to Vi. She cradled her girlfriend’s cheek before going in for a kiss, sweet yet deep and full of passion. Once they pulled away, Cait bit her lip, looking Vi’s up and down.
“Go get the strap, love,” she commanded softly.
At that request, Vi’s cheeks reddened in a blush. “You’re gonna let me…?”
Cair raised an eyebrow at Vi’s implication. “I believe you’re mistaken, dear. I plan on folding you up just like you had our friend here,” she clarified with a motion towards Maddie, who was laying with an arm slung over her eyes.
“Now hurry up and go get it,” Cait reiterated. “I’m feeling a bit… energized. In the meantime, I’ll make sure she’s comfortable.”
Vi nodded rapidly as she stuttered out an affirmative. She was quick to scurry off the bed, going into their large walk-in closet in search of the toy and harness.
In the meantime, Cait made her way over to Maddie, signaling her presence with a soft brush of her hand.
“You okay, honey?” she hummed.
Maddie groaned, her arm falling away from her face.
“Vi is fucking insane…”
Caitlyn chuckled. “Vi’s a munch,” she corrected. “You were doomed from the second you told her to eat you out. Go on and get comfortable on the pillows, you can rejoin when you’re ready.”
With a grunt, Maddie moved herself up to settle on the mountain of pillows. Today was going to be a long day…
Vi came back just seconds later, the jet black toy in one hand, a harness and bottle of lube in the other.
“Good girl,” Caitlyn praised, taking the items from Vi and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. “I want you on your back.”
“Yes ma’am,” Vi replied, finding her place on the bed and resting back on her elbows. She could feel Maddie’s eyes on her, probably admiring her physique. She ignored her, instead focusing on Cait tightening the harness on her hips and strapping up.
When Cait finally turned her attention to her, Vi’s throat immediately went dry. The sight of the strap-on sitting perfectly on her hips had her body firing up from the inside out. Cait mounted the bed, crawling towards Vi until she was in between her spread legs.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” Caitlyn muttered sensually, “all ready for me…”
Vi swallowed the lump in her throat, but all that came out was a strained whimper. Cait grabbed Vi’s calves and placed them on her shoulders, leaning in closer until their bodies were flush against each other. Vi let out a gasp as she felt the tip of the dildo run through her folds, and Cait hummed in response.
“Fuck, you’re so wet, Vi… Maddie’s got you all riled up, doesn’t she?”
Vi’s ears blushed a deep shade of red, and she turned away from Cait’s lingering stare. Cait bit her lip at Vi’s sudden shyness, deciding to tease her by grinding her hips forward. Vi squeezed her eyes shut, her mouth falling open at the toy catching against her clit.
“Fuck… Cait, please…”
Caitlyn smirked. “Fine, but only because you asked so nicely.”
Cait pushed her hips forward again, and this time the dildo went inside, stretching Vi out with each inch that gradually slipped into her.
“H-Holy shit, Cupcake,” Vi whimpered once it was all the way in. The position Cait had her in had the dildo reaching so fucking deep, it was like she could feel it in her stomach.
Caitlyn slowly pulled back a few inches, before snapping her hips forward again. Vi cried out in response, rough hands coming up to grab Cait’s shoulders.
“Please! Holy fuck, Cait, I need you to fuck me please!” she whined in desperation.
Caitlyn chuckled. “Gods, I love when you beg for me, Vi…”
Cait decided to give Vi exactly what she wanted, setting a brutal pace with the strap and being sure to bury herself to the hilt each time. She knew she was fucking Vi good, too, the redhead’s eyes glazing over as sweet whimpers and gasps escaped her lips. Fuck, what Cait would give to be able to feel Vi’s pussy in this moment. She’d stay here forever, just buried in Vi’s warmth.
“Fuck, you’re taking me so damn good, Vi,” Cait growled huskily as she roughly grabbed Vi’s face. Vi’s eyes finally focused (barely), and she keened at the sight of Cait above her.
“Mmh, shit, Cait you’re– oh fuck– you’re in my stomach,” Vi slurred in between loud moans.
“Is that right?” Cait teased. “This pussy can get so fuckin’ deep, huh?”
Vi nodded rapidly. “Mmh, yeah…”
Meanwhile, Maddie watched the scene before her like a hawk. Vi and Caitlyn… it was so rough, yet so intimate. She never thought Vi would be the type to beg, nor be the one to let someone pin her down and strap her the way she was, but since it was Caitlyn, she guessed that anything was possible. She had to admit, even though she wasn’t currently included, the two of them fucking like this was so hot. She swallowed, bringing a hand down to rub light circles against her clit. Her hips twitched; she was still a bit sensitive, but growing more aroused the longer she observed the couple in front of her. She used her other hand to pinch a nipple, rolling the rosy bud between her fingers at the same time. She let out a soft whine, the light pleasure she was giving herself had her rolling her hips against her hand. Shit, I wanna get fucked like that…
“Open your fucking mouth,” Caitlyn growled, and Vi did just so, allowing the taller woman to spit onto her tongue. Vi swallowed, opening her mouth again to show off her obedience.
“Good girl,” Cait muttered, leaning down to rest her forehead against Vi’s as she fucked her harder and faster.
“Ooh– oh Cait, Cait, Cait, fuck!”
Caitlyn groaned, her warm breath fanning Vi’s lips, not daring to stop her brutal pace for even for a second.
“A-Ah, Caaaait, Cait, I’m so close, I’m gonna cum, fuck!” Vi screamed. Just seconds later, she was cumming, her strong legs locking Caitlyn in place as the rest of her body shivered violently with her release. After a few moments, Cait finally slowed down, leaning back and letting Vi’s legs drop to the bed below her.
“Fuck, you did such a good job,” Cait praised, pulling out of Vi to reveal the slicked up toy, drenched in Vi’s arousal. “You took me so well.”
Vi sniffled as she came down from her high. “T-Thank you…”
Caitlyn smiled down at her, so genuine and loving, before turning her attention to Maddie.
“You. Come here.”
Maddie, taken aback at the sudden shift, was stuck in place for a moment. The way Caitlyn watched her, one hand on her breast, the other in between her legs, she suddenly felt so… exposed.
“I don’t have all day, you know.”
At that, Maddie scrambled forward, until she was face to face with the Sheriff herself. Caitlyn grabbed her, kissing her in a similar fashion to the way Vi did earlier. It was nasty, sloppy, and full of tongue. To top it all off, Caitlyn started sucking on Maddie’s tongue, making the younger woman shiver with arousal. Before she could get too comfortable, however, Caitlyn pulled away. This time, she grabbed her roughly, positioning Maddie on her hands and knees right on top of Vi. Maddie gasped, now right in between the two, her heart was pounding at a mile a minute. She felt hands on her waist, which caused her to jump a little, before hearing snickering coming from below her.
“What’s wrong? You’re so jittery all of a sudden,” Vi teased. “Isn’t this what you wanted, Mads? Both of us…?”
Maddie gulped, letting Vi wrap her hand around her neck and pull her down for a kiss. It was slow, sensual, missing all the roughness from earlier. She could feel Caitlyn touching her, her slender fingers dipping in between her legs and inside of her. Maddie moaned against Vi’s lips, rocking her hips in tandem with Cait’s fingers. Vi’s free hand was aimlessly roaming her body, feeling the goosebumps along her back, the dip of her waist, and the swell of her ass. She could easily get lost in this letting the two women touch and play with her body however they pleased.
Then, she felt Caitlyn’s fingers leave her, only to be replaced by something much thicker. She gasped, turning around to look at Cait.
“Caitlyn…”
“I know how you are, Maddie,” Cait warned. “Don’t bother trying to run.”
With that, Caitlyn slowly pushed in, stretching Maddie out on the toy. Though it was well lubricated with Vi’s own release, it was still a tight fit.
“Oh my god!” Maddie cried. “Caitlyn, that’s too big!”
She tried lifting her hips forward to alleviate the pressure, but Vi was quick to stop her, using her strength to keep her in place.
“Didn’t she just say not to run?” Vi muttered. “Gonna disobey the sheriff?”
Before Maddie could muster a reply, Caitlyn was pushing forward again, gripping Maddie’s hips tightly to make sure she didn’t try moving. Maddie’s jaw dropped, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she was stretched to the limit. Her head was spinning; the toy was hitting every spot inside of her. When Cait finally bottomed out, Maddie felt a shiver run up her spine, tears welling in the corners of her eyes from the stretch.
“Aw, don’t cry,” Vi taunted. “You’re taking it so well, Mads.”
Maddie whined, sharp nails digging into Vi’s broad shoulders as Caitlyn started a slow pace, sheathing herself completely with each deep thrust. Maddie couldn’t help but try to pull away each time the tip kissed her cervix, but Caitlyn made sure to keep her in place so she wouldn’t go too far.
“Fuck,” Caitlyn groaned from behind her. She could see everything from her angle: Maddie’s walls fluttering around her cock as she tried to accommodate the size, strings of Maddie’s arousal stretching out between her pussy and Cait’s hips each time she pulled out, Vi tangling a hand in Maddie’s hair as the pair in front of her sloppily made out, one of Maddie’s own hands slipping between Vi’s legs to play with her clit; the straps of the harness rubbing oh so well against her clit wasn’t making her situation any better. Shit, if she didn’t make Maddie cum before she did, she wouldn’t be able to fuck her the way she’d liked.
Caitlyn quickened her pace, fucking Maddie with short and deep thrusts that had the sound of skin slapping together echoing throughout the room. Her nails dug into Maddie’s waist, pulling the woman’s hips back to meet her with each push forward.
Maddie pulled away from Vi’s lips to look back at Cait.
“Fuck… Caitlyn you’re so deep…”
“Takin’ her like a fuckin’ champ,” Vi replied before Cait could, grabbing Maddie’s hair and pulling her back to her lips.
Caitlyn huffed, breaking her gaze away from the two women to focus on the strap fucking into Maddie. She was dripping onto the sheets at this point, and the dildo had a white ring around it.
“Damn it,” she grunted under her breath. She slowed her pace down, giving herself a chance to come down before she reached her peak too soon.
Maddie whined against Vi’s lips, pushing her hips back as a wordless plea for more. Cait smacked her ass in reply, causing the ginger to yelp.
“You really are an impatient one, aren’t you?” Cait grumbled. “If you want to finish this prematurely, just say the word. I can grant you that request.”
Vi chuckled, pulling Maddie away from their kiss.
“Aw, you’re being so hard on her, Cupcake.” Vi grinned as she took in Maddie’s expression, heavy with unabashed desire, lips wet and bruised from their harsh kissing. “You’re fucking her so good, and she just wants more, isn’t that right, Mads?”
Maddie nodded, a strained sigh escaping her lips.
“Mmh, I can give you that… say aah…”
Vi slipped two fingers deep into Maddie’s mouth, biting her lip when she gagged on them. Vi didn’t leave them in there for long, pulling her fingers out and smirking when a string of saliva stretched out from her lips. Then, she slipped her hand down Maddie’s back and right in between her ass cheeks, using one of her fingers to circle the place Maddie’s never been touched before. Maddie gasped into the crook of Vi’s neck, whimpering as the redhead’s finger continued rimming her ass.
“Yeah, you like that, huh?” Vi smirked. “Wonder if you’d even let me put it inside…?”
It was only a taunt, a teasing suggestion, but the way Maddie reacted to the possibility of having a finger in her ass turned it into a reality.
“Please,” she begged. “P-Put it in, Vi, please!”
Vi scoffed. “You’re something else, you know that, Nolen?”
Cait leaned forward just a bit, letting a dribble of spit fall right onto Maddie’s pucker. Vi teasingly pressed her middle finger against her, until Maddie pushed her hips back once more, showing that she really did want this.
Vi didn’t make her wait any longer, slowly pushing her middle finger into Maddie’s ass, right down to the knuckle. Maddie keened, her nails digging into Vi’s shoulders. At the same time, Cait gradually picked up her pace, fucking her pussy while Vi fingerfucked her ass.
Fuck, Maddie was on Cloud 9 right now. She couldn’t even think straight, the dual stimulation making her absolutely melt from pleasure. She was letting out incoherent babbles into Vi’s shoulder, completely unable to form full sentences. Suddenly, she felt a harsh hand tangle in her hair, and she was being pulled upwards. She had to hold herself up with her own hands, whimpering at the stinging sensation on her scalp. It was Cait’s hand, using her grip on Maddie’s hair to fuck her harder, deeper.
“I can’t believe one of my own subordinates turned out to be such a slut,” she huffed. “Letting Vi stick her finger in your ass? Needing both of us to satisfy you? You’re just insatiable, aren’t you?”
Maddie couldn’t even reply, each thrust of Cait’s dick and Vi’s finger knocking the wind out of her.
“Just look at her, Cupcake, she’s fucking addicted,” Vi added, “won’t be surprised if she starts following us around like some lost puppy.”
Maddie should’ve felt insulted, she really should’ve… but the couple was right. Her tryst with Caitlyn was quite enjoyable while it lasted, but having both of them… ‘fucking amazing’ couldn’t even begin to describe it.
Vi’s free hand snaked between Maddie’s legs to play with her clit, and it was over for her.
“Haa… I-I’m gonna cum!”
Maddie’s orgasm was powerful, so much so that she ended up squirting and soaking the bed sheets (and Vi) with her release. She trembled violently, wave after wave of aftershocks had her body pulsating. Caitlyn let go of her hair, and Maddie slumped against Vi’s chest, eyes squeezed shut as she attempted to catch her breath. Vi slipped her finger out, using both hands to massage Maddie’s waist.
Caitlyn, however, was not finished. After staving off her own orgasm for so long, she was right at the edge of release. She leaned over Maddie, grinding against her ass despite her weak whines of protest.
“Just take it Mads,” Vi shushed, “Let her cum first, she’s almost there.”
Maddie started to sob from overstimulation, one of her hands reaching back to grasp onto Caitlyn’s leg. Cait ignored her, squeezing her eyes shut as she only focused on getting herself over the edge. Her hips stuttered the closer she got, and she lost her rhythm, but soon she was groaning with bliss, her orgasm washing over her. She fucked herself through her orgasm until she physically couldn’t take it anymore, and she pulled the dildo out of Maddie with a slick ‘pop!’
Maddie slumped forward, dropping her hips to rest her entire weight on Vi. Caitlyn, on the other hand, slumped onto the mattress, silently catching her breath.
“Well, that was fun…” Vi finally spoke after a while.
Caitlyn hummed, her lips forming into a tired smile. “Certainly…”
“What about you, Mads?” Vi asked the woman on her chest, only to be met with silence.
“Maddie…?”
Nothing but soft snores left Maddie’s lips, and Vi let out a soft chuckle.
“Well, what do you know, we fucked her right to sleep.”
Caitlyn lifted herself up onto her elbow, resting her head in her hand. “I’m glad she enjoyed herself.”
Very gently, Vi turned to lay Maddie on the bed, before standing up. She put a hand out to Cat, who took it to stand as well. She helped Caitlyn take off the strap-on, even though she could very well remove it on her own.
“Let’s get cleaned up.”
As their legs were still feeling the effects of their long fuck session, even the short walk to the bathroom had the couple walking funny.
“To be honest, I’m glad we did this,” Vi said as she turned on the warm water. “But y’know… really is a shame I didn’t get to eat you out myself…”
Cait was silent for a moment, her heart beating loudly in her chest at the flagrant suggestion. With a sigh, she poked her head out of the bathroom door, noting that Maddie was still fast asleep, before shutting the two of them in.
“Make sure you don’t wake her up,” Cait muttered, as Vi was already descending to her knees.
I’m saddened by the news this morning. Kamala wasn’t the best option but she was a better one. I know a lot of you are probably feeling it right now too.
I hope my page can still be a place of escape for y’all. Give yourselves permission to escape from reality for a moment. Know this page is a safe space, and there is no place for hatred here. And I’m just really sorry.
This is a crazy ask and I’m so sorry. But I want to ask permission before I sent anything. There is a twt plink that I want to request someone to make into fanfic. But I feel like just sending one unprompted would be too much. So would you rather I explain what the idea of the fic would be or would you be comfortable with the link? If all of this makes you uncomfortable then I deeply apologize and you don’t have to reply back to this. I’m sorry but your writing is amazing and I love how you portray Ellie.
This is not a crazy ask, just one I’ve never gotten before 😭😭 do not stress urself out we r all a little horny on here. As long as it doesn’t involve cnc, pedøphelia, extreme masochist kinks, or anything I deem out of my wheelhouse I am open to ideas for a fic. If it’s too crazy I will let you know, trust me. I love when people send in ideas for things they want to see with Ellie because I love writing about her!
I appreciate your concern and double checking with me before hand! You can send the link or describe what you would like for me to write, or both, up to you!
P.S. I have gained some followers from the Cowboys fic and this post made me realize to put some off limits stuff for reqs. That’ll be in my pinned post soon! Sorry, I just usually didn’t get too many requests before.
just wanted to say that every time i listen to 'come rest your head (on my pillow)' by kaitlin butts, it reminds me of the cowboys series!
ur writing is literally so good and i cant get enough of it. keep up the good work!
I’m listening to it rn and oh my god I wish I heard this song earlier. You would think I had heard the song already with how related the story and the song are 😅
oh my gosh i just read your first ellie cowboy fic and it's scratching an itch i didn't know i HADDDD, i love it so much i cannot put it into words, n especially as someone who grew up in a bit more of a southernish community the mention of moonshine made me smile LMAO
just wanted to say i adore your writing!! hope you're doing well ♡♡
Hi darling, new chapter posted <3 (consider it dedicated to you since you pushed me to finally finish it).
I appreciate your support of my silly little story sm. I spent a good amount of summers in the south as a kid so I romanticize it and write about it A LOT lol. I hope to continue 🙏
Summary: things go right then wrong then right then wrong then right
Wc: 6.4 k
For the ao3 girlies
Cw: cowboy! Ellie x fem! reader, drinking, reader gets drunk, Jesse (again), lesbian touching and yearning, kissin', little fight, cleaning wounds (yea again shh), smut!, inexperienced reader (not innocent tho), oral (r! receiving), fingering (r! and e! receiving), switch! reader and Ellie, and as always no use of y/n
Minors DNI (fr)
a/n: This is months in the making. Thank you for your patience, those of you who kept supporting me through all this time even with my lack of activity I'm giving you a virtual forehead kiss. I really hope you enjoy it, I started to really love these characters, I like making them happy. I highly recommend reading the past chapters, but if you want to jump in I won't discourage you!
before you read! DAILY CLICK
★・・・・・・★
You drunkenly fumble with the buttons of your bodice, biting your lip with intense concentration in an attempt to complete the simple task. Your fine motor skills have reduced to that of a toddler. Thank god tomorrow is Saturday.
The front door creaks open just as you manage to get to the halfway point. You look up at Ellie as she walks in, she removes her hat and places it gently on the wooden table. She looks down at the floor as she unties the bandanna from her face. When she looks back up you can finally see her sun-kissed cheeks and perfect lips. You missed looking at her. She’s staring right at you with those emerald green eyes, and you stare back, hands frozen on one of the stubborn buttons keeping you from falling into your soft bed.
You hastily look back down before she can say anything and focus on removing enough clothes so that you can sleep comfortably. You don’t notice her approaching you until you see her boots step into your line of vision. You look up and you suppress a gasp of surprise when you register how close she was. She smells slightly of cigars and pine; it’s intoxicating. Her breathing is a little faster than normal, barely noticeable, but you tend to notice every little thing about her. There’s a nervous look in her eyes, illuminated by the moonlight pouring through the windows.
“Need some help?” Your eyes widen a bit in disbelief, you didn’t think she would touch you again after you made her feel your scar. You thought the feeling of her fingertips drifting up and down your skin would simply be something you dreamed about happening again.
“Just gimme a minute, I can do it.” And you focus on your dress once more. As much as you wanted to feel her warm hands against your skin again, part of you felt like you were forcing her into it. Some tiny piece of you was convinced there was something wrong with you for feeling like this. For wanting her to touch you in ways you had been told your whole life should only ever want from a man.
Her hands gently grab yours and lower them to your sides. She wordlessly begins to unfasten your bodice. She takes her time, you watch her slender fingers work at the buttons one by one. You could feel the heat of her hands through the thin fabric of your chemise. She moves achingly slow like she was afraid you were made of porcelain. Your breathing grows heavier and heavier matching Ellie's as you watch her careful maneuvers. She was so close that her warm presence became magnetic in the cold desert night. You subconsciously lean towards her little by little getting so close that if either of you flinched your skin would meet with the other’s.
Finally, she got your dress undone. You both stand perfectly still, knowing once you leave this moment everything will be different.
Maybe you didn’t have to.
You look up at her, she feels you staring, her eyes meet yours. You slowly move one of your hands to cup her jaw, encouraging her to look directly at you. Her gaze flicks from your lips back up to your eyes. You lean into her, pressing your forehead against hers. Your lips are so dangerously close. She looks almost scared.
“Y-you don’t wanna do this darling.” she’s practically out of breath, as if she’d just run 10 miles. You could feel her soft lips move against yours.
“I think I do,” you reply. And with that, your lips meet hers.
This was it; the feeling you had been searching for your entire life, and it felt so much better than you could have ever imagined. You feel her hands cup your face and her featherlight touch gives you butterflies. She had always been so careful with you. You never knew you were missing that gentleness until you felt the way she would hold you, the way her fingers would glide across your skin with such caution. She never touched you without wanting, without purpose. Until these couple days spent with her, you didn’t know that someone could care for you like that.
You could swear you felt her everywhere. She deepens the kiss a bit, getting hungrier. She laces one of her hands into your hair while the other presses you impossibly closer to her by the small of your back. Your hands snake into her soft auburn hair, earning a quiet groan from the cowgirl.
Every breath that she releases you breathe back in, becoming completely immersed in her, feeling her, smelling her, seeing her, hearing her all around you. You wanted to stay like this until you knew nothing else, until you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore.
And then she pulls back, taking all of it away. She presses her forehead to yours.
“We should stop.” She says breathlessly, looking at the wooden floor.
“Why?” you ask with slight desperation in your voice.
“You don’t even know how to keep going from here or what it means if we do. I know that.” She says with defeat. “I can’t do this to you.” She looks up at you with a barely suppressed grin, “Plus you’re a little drunk.”
“But I want you to,” you almost whine, you want her so badly. She gave you a taste just to rip it away, “I promise I do.” You fiddle with the buttons of her shirt in a desperate attempt to convince her to keep going. “Besides, you don’t get to decide what’s best for me.”
“Alright, alright” she smiles a little at your stubbornness, “we can talk about this tomorrow, but for now you should get to sleep.” As much as you hate to admit it she was right, you could barely keep your eyes open.
“Ok,” you whisper. You give her a quick kiss on the cheek before you walk toward your bed. You sit on the edge and watch Ellie take off her shoes, then her belt, then her suspenders. You felt something start to flutter in your stomach as you saw her undress. She didn’t notice you staring until she was done, she looked at you, waiting for you to say something. “You wanna sleep in a bed tonight?” You ask, hoping she would at least do that if she wouldn’t keep kissing you.
Her eyebrows raise in surprise for a moment, “I’m more than ok sleeping on the fl-”
“Please?”
She must have seen the desperation in your expression because she barely hesitated before saying, “Move over.” You do as she says and she sits on the edge of the bed. She takes a moment to just look at you, her eyes moving across your body as she allows herself to see you how she’s always wanted to. “Turn around.” You’re confused but you turn onto your side, facing the wall. Then you feel her lay down behind you. She wraps an arm around your stomach and pulls your body to slot perfectly into hers. You’re sure this was the best thing you’ve ever felt- besides the kissing. You’re not sure if you could go back to how you were living before now that you know what it’s like to be held by someone so strong and so, so softly. Her warmth becomes yours and it just feels so nice.
** **
You wake up feeling a presence behind you. You almost panic until the memories of last night flood your mind. You weren’t used to the feeling of someone wrapped around you. You’re not sure you would ever get used to that feeling.
Her chest rises up and down against your back and you can feel her breath on the back of your neck. Very slowly you try to turn around to face her, trying your best not to wake her up. The bed frame was squeaky, but thankfully the only sound you made was the rustling of sheets against your skin as you turned towards a sleeping Ellie.
The sunlight filters through the window, illuminating her delicate features. You’ve never seen sunlight compliment someone so well. Her long eyelashes rest against her cheeks, and you notice they match her hair, a little red tint exposed by the unfiltered sunshine. You haven’t seen her this relaxed before, it almost felt too vulnerable, too intimate.
You lightly touch a strand of her soft hair to ensure you’re not dreaming. You tuck it gently behind her ear and she stirs a bit. You freeze, feeling caught. Her eyes slowly blink open, a lazy smile forms on her face. You can’t help smiling back at her.
“Mornin,” her voice is heavy with sleep and the sound of it makes your heart skip a beat.
“Good mornin’, how’d you sleep?”
“Reeallyy good.” she sounds like she’s still half asleep with how her words lazily flow from her lips. Her eyes haven’t left yours.
“Good.” You can’t help the smile that seems to form on your face everytime she looks at you. before you can blink she’s sat up and looking down at you and your lips. “Whatcha doin’?”
“Can I kiss you again?” You can’t help but blush and let out a nervous giggle, “Please?” You nod and without missing a beat she leans down and presses her lips to yours. So soft and gentle, she takes a deep breath through her nose like she’s relieving a desperate craving. She cups your jaw and furthers the kiss, you sigh and melt into her. You swear you were made for her.
She moves so she’s straddling your hips. One hand slowly travels down your body, while the other laces into your hair. Her fingertips graze down your neck, over your breasts, down your stomach, sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.
“Was dreamin about you.” She whispers. Her hand sneaks under your dress, she makes her way up your leg ever so slowly so you can feel the way her skin moves against yours. You sharply inhale through your nose when you feel her fingertips graze the hem of your underwear and she takes it as a sign to tease a little further.
“Was it a good dream?” You manage to squeak out as she lightly grazes her palm over your clothed center. She continues up your body and lightly grasps your bare waist with her warm hand. And before you could blink she was back to kissing you hard, like she was starving for it.
“Mhm realllyy good.” Her voice is still gravelly from sleep.
She breaks the kiss and just looks at you for a moment. She had this expression on her face you’d never seen before, seemed like a mix of admiration and hesitation. She tucks a stray piece of your hair behind your ear and sighs before her eyes wander from yours. Her hand retracts from under your nightgown, she pulls it down making sure it’s back in its place. The absence of her hands was so jarring.
You couldn’t help the “what-” that slipped from your lips at the loss of her intoxicating touch.
“I have someplace to be.” She smiles gently before kissing your forehead and rolling out of bed.
“Will you tell me where? Where have you even been disappearing to?”
“I’m looking for someone.” She says simply as she begins to put her clothes back on.
“Who?” A bit of frustration comes through in your tone, tired of her mysterious behavior.
“You- uh- you remember what I said about Joel last night?” She clips on her suspenders.
“Yes, you said he was your friend.” You sit up in bed.
“Well, someone killed ‘em,” She sits down and begins harshly putting on her boots, “and I know if it happened to me he would hunt the person down and make sure they paid for their crimes, so-”
“You want to find his murderer and murder them?”
“Well, I’ll make her pay for what she did in a way that I see fit, so yes.” Her voice becomes tight with frustration at your questioning.
“Who do you think is gonna come after you for murdering her, Ellie? This isn’t going to help anything-”
“How the fuck would you know that?” She looks up from her half-laced-up boots, her voice is laced with venom.
You’re too stunned at her tone to respond, you’d never heard her like this. She’s so blinded by guilt and anger that no one could stop her; that much you could tell. You just watch as she finishes tying up her shoes and leaves, grabbing her hat on her way out.
An unwelcome silence falls over your small house for the first time in a while.
** **
Maybe she won’t come back.
You’ve been going back and forth between reading and staring out the window. Hoping you would see her horse appear somewhere on the desert horizon.
You decide to distract yourself by making a little batch of tea. Each step takes up your entire brain, you carefully calculate every leaf needed, and every muscle movement, making the task take as long as possible.
You move out to your front porch with your book and a cup of tea and settle in the rickety rocking chair facing the desert landscape. The sun begins to settle in the sky and as it sinks lower, you get angrier. You put your book down and storm inside, making a beeline to your precious bottle of moonshine. You crack it open and fill the teacup to the brim with the foul liquid.
You settle back down on the porch and sip the bitter drink until the sunlight disappears and the words in your book begin to become a little blurry. You trudge inside and settle at the dining room table, wondering what to do to occupy your time. Maybe you were too drunk to make a fire, but it’s worth a shot. You begin piling wood and twigs in your small fireplace, your movements are clunky but eventually, you get a flame going. You giggle in celebration.
A knock rudely interrupts your accomplishments. You don’t even care who it is anymore, you’re just annoyed you have to get up from the floor. You groan as you move your body to stand up. You manage to walk to the door and open it up.
It’s Jesse. The alcohol hits you all at once now that you’re standing and you have to lean against the door to keep yourself upright.
You blurt out a confused, “Hi,”
“Hi… I thought you had your “bodyguard” staying with you.” Damn, he remembered.
“Yeah sh- he- he uh left.” Jesse just looks at you, confused by your drunken behavior. “What are you doing here?”
“Is he coming back? I- uh just wanted to check on you after last night, make sure you got home ok.”
“Okay, well thank you but I’m fine… a lil’ drunk that’s all. And I don’t know if he’ll come back. Not the best communicator.” You don’t move to let him in, frankly, you don’t want the company right now.
“I can’t leave you here drunk and alone in good conscience.” He says with feigned concern. He steps closer to you, closer to the doorway.
“Oh, I’ve lived out here alone for a while now I think I’m ok-”
“At least let me stay until your bodyguard comes back.” He’s officially invading your space with his eagerness, you suppose no isn’t an answer he will accept right now.
“Um, alright then.” You hesitantly turn your body to make room for him in the doorway. He walks right through and makes himself comfortable at your small dining room table. You did not like the space he took up in this house. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“What do you have?”
“I’m afraid I’m limited to moonshine at the moment.”
“Moonshine is fine.” He nods. “You make it yourself?” The last thing you desired right now was small talk. You prayed Ellie would come back at this point simply to get him to leave. She sleeps on the floor whereas he might force himself into your bed.
“Yes, it passes the time. And does the job better than any whiskey I’ve had.” You turn around, grab a glass from the small cabinet in your kitchen, and fill it a fourth of the way up. This man was a waste of moonshine.
“Who taught ya how to make it?”
“My daddy taught me the recipe before I got married.. before he died.” You almost successfully hide the wavering in your voice at the mention of your father.
“Oh, sorry for bringin’ it up, sweetheart..” You turn around and see him looking down at his hands in his lap in embarrassment.
“It’s alright,” you fake a smile, “I don’t mind talking about him.” And you really didn’t, you just did not want to talk to Jesse about him. You set the moonshine in front of him and he takes a swig. His face screws up a bit at the flavor but he smiles at you and invites you to sit down across from him.
** **
Jesse’s told about 10 different boring stories about his travels, getting drunker as you sober up. You poured him a couple of glasses of moonshine hoping he would get tired and leave, but he seems to get more and more settled in his chair as time goes on. His mannerisms get more and more outlandish as the minutes pass.
In the middle of his sentence, your front door bursts open. Moonlight floods into the small house and a familiar silhouette stands in the doorway. Ellie’s eyes meet yours for a split second before she rushes to stand behind your chair. The cowgirl possessively places her hands on your shoulders. She glances at you and greets you with a gentle “Hello darlin’” before she looks down at Jesse with narrowed eyes, “I think it’s time for you to leave.” She says in her deep “male” voice. It takes every fiber of your being not to smile in relief.
Jesse’s eyes widen as if he’s been caught. He stands up abruptly “Yes, sir.” He replies in a meek voice, “Goodnight ma’am.” he tips his hat bidding you farewell. One day you’ll have to ask her what she said to Jesse that made him so terrified of her.
“Goodnight, Jesse.” You keep your voice sickly sweet until he swiftly makes his exit, closing the door behind him a little too hard.
You both silently watch him clumsily climb atop his horse and begin to ride away. He can barely hold himself up, but he’ll survive. You look at Ellie as her narrowed eyes observe the man-child riding his horse back to town, barely able to hold himself up. Her face had a few scratches and new bruises. A thin layer of dust coated her whole body. Her shirt has specks of blood covering it and you aren’t sure if it’s hers.
Your hand reaches for her cheek, your palm meeting with the scratchy fabric of the bandana still on her face. You gently turn her to face you and her whole body relaxes at the sight of you. You take your other hand and reach behind her head, loosening the knot of fabric at the base of her skull. You allow the bandana to fall slowly and you realize how sunken and bloodshot her eyes are, her lip is slightly busted, and a small gash lines her freckled cheek, and yet she’s looking at you like a cold glass of water on a hot summer’s day.
You cup her cheek and rub your thumb along her soft skin. She leans her head into your palm, surrendering to you.
She whispers a meek, “I’m sorry, darlin’” as she places a gloved hand over yours. She won’t meet your eyes. You can hear her exhaustion through her voice. God knows what she’s been through today.
All you can do is smile sadly and say, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” You pull your hand away, even though everything in you is protesting against it. You walk over to the small tub you keep by the stove and dip a cloth into the cool water. The feeling of the cold liquid dripping down your arms grounded you. You take a breath as you wring out the excess. Turning around you see Ellie sitting in one of your wooden chairs, hunched over in exhaustion. She takes off her boots and then places her hat and gloves on the table and turns to look at you. You can’t read her expression and you’re not sure you want to. You tentatively walk toward her and pull up a chair across from her. You sit down so close to her that her knee rests between your thighs. You lean forward and begin carefully wiping away the grime from her skin.
“Feel like you’re always takin’ care of me.” She says softly, slightly wincing when you start cleaning up the gash on her cheek.
“You’re always givin’ me a reason to take care of you.” You won’t tell her that you didn’t mind being the person she came to to wipe her face clean, the person she trusted to tend to her wounds- big or small.
“Yeah, but then who takes care of you?”
“I suppose I just never needed it.” You move the washcloth gently across her forehead.
“Would you ever let me?” Her voice is almost inaudible.
“Let you what?” You pause your movements.
“Let me take care of you.” She gently lowers your hand from her face, her eyes unrelentingly staring into yours. She forces you to realize how close she is to you, her face is mere inches from yours.
“But,” She leans even closer to you, her chapped lips brushing yours, causing you to have to catch your breath, “I don’t need it.” Her breath grows heavier, smelling of whiskey and a hint of something sweet.
“I think you do.” You can feel her lips move against yours as she speaks. You linger there for a moment, waiting for her to give in. Her hands thread into your hair, and she pulls you into a desperate kiss. You put your hands on her chest to steady yourself at the impact. Her warm tongue makes its way into your mouth and you let out a little whine at the feeling. The sound seems to motivate her further, she reaches for your bodice and begins fumbling with the buttons, slowly undoing them. You use one hand to unlatch your overskirt as the other remains on Ellie’s chest. As you both stand your clothing practically melts off of you. Ellie encourages your bodice off your shoulders and onto the floor, doing the same with your skirt, leaving you in your thin chemise.
As she inelegantly leads you to the bed you begin undoing her stained button-down. You run your fingers under her suspenders and pull them off her shoulders earning a hungry groan from Ellie. The back of her legs hit the edge of your bed and she sits down. You look down at the disheveled cowgirl and feel something flutter in your stomach at the sight of her. She’s looking up at you like a starved woman, her eyes are dark, her mouth hangs slightly open breathing heavily. You mindlessly bring your thumb to her lips, tracing the plush skin. Her expression grows hungry at your small touch.
Ellie’s hands grip your waist encouraging you to straddle her lap. You grab her shoulders for stability and kneel on the small bed, settling yourself on her thighs. She gives you a quick peck on the lips before dragging her own gently down the side of your neck.
“You know,” she takes the soft skin into her mouth evoking a gasp from your lips, “I wasn’t gonna ask,” She kisses her way across your collarbone and she’s so gentle until she begins sucking your skin into her mouth, sending a surprisingly pleasurable feeling through your body. She’s ensuring there would be remnants of her left on you- even after this. “But what was he doing here?”
You snap out of the trance her soft lips inflicted on you at the mention of Jesse. “I-I don’t know,” She won’t stop kissing you, moving the neck of your chemise down to gain more access. Your brain is almost too scrambled to form a response. “He-” She reaches a hand under your nightgown, moving her palm up your thigh slowly. “He said he wanted to check on me.” You take a much-needed breath, trying to get your heart to stop beating out of your chest.
“Mm,” she murmurs, sounding doubtful. “Sounds like he wanted to catch you alone.” She moves her hand up higher, brushing against your underwear, your hands clutch at the fabric of Ellie’s button down, a futile attempt to ground yourself.
“Maybe,” you manage to squeak out.
“Looks like I was the one who ended up catching you alone.” She smirks.
“Good,” you breathe out.
Every little thing she does earns a reaction from you. She smirks at you, enjoying your struggle, “You’re pretty sensitive huh darling?”
“Sounds like more of an observation than a question.” You were like putty in her hands.
She lets out a short laugh, “You can still talk back though, huh?” She smoothes her hand up your stomach, stopping just under your breasts- she was hesitating.
But you didn’t want her to stop, you couldn’t take her walking away again. “And?” You place your hand on top of hers and guide it over the plush skin of your breasts. “What are you gonna do about it?”
“Oh darling,” She moves her fingers gingerly over your nipples, shooting an electric feeling right between your legs. “You have no idea what you're askin’ for.” She grabs both of your thighs and swiftly moves to stand up with you in her grasp. You let out a surprised squeak at her movements. She spins around so your back is to the bed and gently lays you down. The Cowgirl crawls on top of you and slowly drags your chemise upwards. She takes in every newly exposed inch like you were a detailed work of art, taking note of every freckle and birthmark. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You’ve never been this exposed to anyone before. Instinctually you start to move your hands to cover yourself up but she catches them. “Don’t.” She protests with a gentle sternness. She bunches the fabric up on your collarbone, keeping you bare for her.
She moves impossibly closer, slotting her knee between your legs. She inches it up higher, higher, and then- oh. The pressure was perfect, it relieved the ache between your legs just enough to keep you wanting more. She places gentle teasing kisses between your breasts. You could lay here just savoring the feeling of her lips on your skin for the rest of your life. As if on queue her lips pull away for a moment but then you feel her warm tongue tentatively lick your nipple. She teases around it in circles before taking it into her mouth.
“Oh god,” You gasp as you lace your fingers into her auburn hair. She lets out a beautiful little whine when you lightly pull. Now you understand why she likes your whines and whimpers. You would do anything to get her to make that noise again, it made your stomach flutter in a way that felt so good. You begin mindlessly moving against her knee as the ache between your legs grows stronger. She moves to your other nipple, teasing it before entrapping the sensitive bud into her mouth. She uses her free hand to pinch and tease the opposite one. Your back arches towards her, your body silently begging for just a little bit more.
And Ellie obliges. She trails her free hand down your stomach and traces a finger lightly under the hem of your underwear, your stomach jumps at the feeling. Her slender fingers tease you over the thin fabric of your underwear. You quietly moan as she finds the sensitive bundle of nerves desperately craving her attention. She adds just a little more pressure and you tilt your head back as you take a deep breath. All of these new feelings are almost overwhelming- almost. It was the type of overwhelming where you wanted to see how much you could take, see how far the feeling could go.
You begin to urge Ellie’s shirt off her shoulders exposing her bandaged chest as she continues her pleasurable assault of your nipples. You wanted to be able to see her too. You wanted to memorize the placement of every individual freckle on her body, you wanted to be able to draw her from memory, to know every part of her so well you could know her by touch alone.
You reach for her belt buckle, blindly attempting to unclasp the metal as she overwhelms your senses. You throw the belt somewhere in the room, the sound of it falling to the floor is drowned out by the mix of your whimpers and Ellie’s labored breathing. You’re about to attempt to unbutton her pants when she halts her movements, “I can’t fucking take this anymore,” she quietly groans to herself.
“What-” You can’t even comprehend her statement- until she makes her way down your body, dragging her nose down your abdomen, leaving a little kiss above your belly button. She leisurely pulls your underwear down your legs, exposing you completely. Before you can attempt to try and close your legs Ellie settles in between them, wrapping her arms around your thighs like it was second nature. She uses her grip to lift your thighs, forcing you to bend your knees, opening you up further for her. You watch as she litters kisses all over your inner thighs, occasionally marking the silken skin.
“So perfect for me,” She runs her fingers through your drenched folds, your breath hitching at the foreign feeling. She teases her digits around your entrance before moving back upwards and circling around your sensitive bud. Your hands grasp at the sheets like a lifeline, not knowing how to react to this feeling. It felt so, so good. Almost too much but not enough at the same time.
“Feel ok, baby?” She asks, seeming a little concerned at your almost panicky breaths.
“Feels-” she doesn’t stop her movements to allow you to respond, you have to gather your wits to form a sentence. “-feels really, really good.” you say breathily. She seems to enjoy challenging you, she likes watching you stutter as she debilitates you with her expert hands.
“Wanna feel even better?” She challenges with a tinge of mischief in her voice.
“How?” You barely form the question before Ellie traces her tongue up your slit. Your surprised gasp melts into a moan. Her warm tongue caresses where you crave her most, gradually picking up speed as you get accustomed to the feeling. She proceeds downward circling her tongue around your tight entrance, sliding it in and out of you at a steady pace. You mindlessly moan and buck your hips towards her, needing her deeper.
You’re sure she can read your mind at this point because she pauses her movements and crawls back on top of you. She kisses you sloppily before encouraging your lips open with her ring and middle finger. “Get them nice and wet for me darlin’.” Your inner walls clench around nothing at her words. You swirl your tongue around her digits until she smoothly removes them from your mouth.
She sinks back down between your legs and resumes her movements. She circles your dripping entrance with one finger and slides it into you at a painfully slow rate, opening you up for her a millimeter at a time. The pleasurable pressure in your abdomen begins a steady climb upwards. You cry out as Ellie curls her finger to hit the perfect spot. Her tongue and her fingers are turning your brain and body into jelly.
“That’s it, you’re doing so well for me baby,” she praises. You are completely at her mercy as she sucks your clit into her mouth. Your hand swiftly reaches for her auburn locks, tugging on her hair the way you did before and she whimpers into your cunt, sending vibrations through your lower body.
Just as you think you are at the height of the pleasure you could ever possibly feel she adds another finger inside of you, sinking her digits deep into your cunt. Pressure builds in your abdomen as she curls her fingers right into that spot that makes stars cloud your vision. The feeling in your stomach grows to an overwhelming peak.
“You almost there darlin’?” She asks as she continues pumping her fingers in and out of you at a steady pace.
“I-,” She somehow moves her fingers faster, purposefully interrupting you. You knew because she couldn’t even hide her smirk when she did it. “I th-think so,” you mutter, not even really knowing what she means. What you did know is the feeling was getting tighter and tighter and something in you told you that when you finally released it, it would feel like heaven.
Your moans grow louder as you lose control of your body. Ellie continues pleasuring you as the feeling finally peaks, “Come on baby let go for me,” And you do. Waves of pure ecstasy crash over you, your hips buck against her over and over uncontrollably as the sensation washes over your whole body. Strings of obscenities and Ellie’s name escape from your swollen lips as you ride out the high.
She doesn’t stop until you're whining from sensitivity, weakly trying to pull her away from your aching center. You stare at the wooden ceiling while trying to catch your breath, processing whatever just happened to your body. You can feel Ellie sit up between your legs before she leans on top of you, placing her hands on either side of you so she doesn’t crush you.
And of course she’s smiling.
“You ok?” She asks as she cups your cheek.
“Mhm, very ok,” you’re almost slurring your words. You nuzzle into her hand, wanting to be closer to her. She gently pinches your chin between her thumb and index finger, urging you slightly upwards so her lips could catch yours. You give in to her like second nature, tasting yourself on her lips.
Your body is so tired and heavy- but you’re not done yet.
“You want a turn, cowgirl?” You’re only half teasing.
“Um, no you don’t have to- I don’t need-” She’s blushing, if you didn’t know better you’d say she was flustered.
“What if I want to?”
“Uh, then yes I suppose we could try something.”
“So shy all of the sudden, baby,” you sit up- slightly startling Ellie, but she follows your movements, “You sure you’re ok with this- we don’t have to do anything I just-”
“No,” she interjects, “no I want you to.”
“Good,” you smile, cupping her cheek before pulling her in for a kiss. You do as she did earlier and trail down the side of her neck, letting your hand wander downwards to trace mindless shapes along her abdominal muscles. You pick a spot and suck the skin into your mouth, her breath hitches at the feeling. Ellie shifts so she’s straddling your thigh, you feel her softly grinding against it and the feeling gives you butterflies.
“I’m guessing we’re not getting this off tonight,” you graze your hands over her bound chest, watching it rise up in reaction to your touch.
“N-no, that would take too long, I need you now,” she grinds against you a bit harder, silently urging you to continue. She nuzzles her face into your neck and whimpers a desperate, “Please,” against you. One day you would get that thing off of her, be able to enjoy her fully, but you wouldn’t make her wait any longer.
“Just show me what to do, Ellie.”
She wordlessly responds by unbuttoning her pants and then placing a hand on top of yours, steadily guiding it down her abdomen and underneath the hem of her pants. Your fingers drift past her warm pelvis and slide into her dripping folds. You hold in a gasp at the state of her, she must have been aching for this for so long. “Poor baby,” you mock pout as you look at her, eyes squished shut at the feeling of your fingers finally where she needed them. “You wanted this so bad, didn't you pretty girl?” She can’t even respond, just moves faster against your hand, her whimpers growing louder. You decide to try to give her more, you move your fingers towards her entrance. They slide into her with a surprising ease and she gasps as your digits slide deeper. She continues moving her own fingers in circles around her sensitive bud as you begin to curl your fingers towards yourself as she did to you.
You watch her thoughtlessly rock back and forth against your fingers, her hair messily framing her flushed face, she looks beautiful. Now she was finally a mess for you, the feeling was addicting.
You place a hand on her abs, tracing your fingers along the muscles feeling them flex and relax at your touch. She begins moving a bit faster. She whispers a mixture of fuck and your name in a whiny desperate voice that has you dripping down your thighs all over again.
“Do-don’t stop,” She mewls, her head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut, completely lost in pleasure. You feel her walls start to clench around our fingers, she softly moans at every thrust of your digits into her. Suddenly she contracts hard around you, “oh fuck,” she moans. She thrusts hard against your fingers as she reaches her high, you watch her face as she experiences the same ecstasy you just had, you almost came again at the very sight of her.
You don’t stop until she slows down, practically collapsing onto you. “You are so perfect,” she whispers into your neck.
You smile, “I know,” you softly comb your fingers through her hair, taming the kinks you created just moments earlier, “so are you.” You lean back, encouraging her to follow. Her head rests on your chest and you run your fingers through her auburn locks until her breathing becomes slow and steady. You count her breaths until your eyes grow too heavy to keep open.
I appreciate you all, it's been a rough couple of months lol. Just had some time on my hands because I got my wisdom teeth removed- gross. I'm sorry if this was bad I promise I tried my best to make up for how long this took and what better way to make up for it than some smut ?😈 <3
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tags: eighteen+, camgirl!abby, lowkey loser!reader, voyerisum, dub-con, dildo penetration (abby!r), minors hop off my shit, friends to lovers (eventually), nerdy!abby.
a/n. happy pride, my loves! here's the first part of a series i'm cooking. there will be blurbs, drabbles, and some sprinkle of fluff if all goes as planned. hope you enjoy!
you aren’t supposed to be home, but it’s a slow night of bartending, so you’re sent early. pushing yourself into the front door despite your aching muscles, dispensing your keys in the small bowl, before grabbing yourself a cold glass of water. chugging it from the chilled glass, the cool liquid sending a sensation down your throat.
something feels off but you ignore it.
funneling into your room, discarding your pants along with your tank left only in your undergarments. the tension has been building in your shoulders all night. the overwhelming stress of not making enough tips to cover your rent, classes in the morning, as well as the kink in your neck. you need to relieve yourself from all of it. a feather filled duvet has never looked so inviting, parallel with the vibrator tucked away into your night stand.
bang! bang! bang!
what the hell?
taking a final sip from your water, you venture into the living room grabbing the bat next to your bedroom door. ready to swing, you’re met with silence in the still empty living room. odd.
bat in your stronghold, your sock clad feet patter up the stairs into your roommate’s area of the apartment when you hear moans. soft, whimpering, moans. was she? no. it’s abby for fucksake. she’s too anxious to talk about sex with others much less fuck with her clit while you’re home.
but you’re not supposed to be home and you’re intrigued. you shouldn’t be but you are.
against the hardwood floors, your feet are quiet as you bring yourself closer to her room. her moans are louder, you try to ignore the throbbing of your clit, thighs nudging together as abby sounds like an angel — solely sent for your pleasure.
the cream door is cracked open halfway and it’s then when you see her. for the first time, it’s all of her. the fucking bat nearly drops to the floor, but you catch it and cradle it to your chest as you take the scene in.
entranced is the only way to describe it. she had lights, her phone propped up with an additional camera while they filmed the show she so clearly was putting it on. blonde hair cascades down her freckled back, completely bare ass on full display, unknowingly for your greedy eyes.
you need to look away. she’s your best friend. stop. you’re being a fucking creep but then she’s bouncing on the dildo.
fucking hell.
your friend, the one you tease endlessly, the shy nerdy girl who can barely say two words when a pretty girl tries to speak with her is fucking herself on a baby blue dildo and filming it. for the first time, you’re seeing abby differently. it almost pains you.
exquisite, golden hair shines in the moonlight as her delicious hips roll. she finds a rhythm that’s comfortable letting out a collection of whines and moans. the sound of her slick combined with the headboard hitting the wall over and over due to the power of her weight sends you into a frenzy. you’re thighs have never rubbed together so harshly, trying to satiate a need. if you could, you’d moan for her but the fear of being caught strikes you down but it’s festering within you.
it’s growing. god, it’s for her only.
you’re paralyzed with arousal but you need to leave. right fucking now before you cum. pathetically, you think you can just from watching her. abby’s soft voice practically nails your soft palms to the walls, crucifying you with every unspeakable desire. pink lips let them fly, gratifying you and somehow breaking the impenetrable wall between the two of you.
“cock is so big, s’hard to take all of it.” abby whimpers, arching her back while her palms support her weight as she splits her pussy on the dildo. “yeah, you like that? mmm, love when my pussy swallows you whole, huh?”
she lays her full cheeks on the mattress, pretty face pushed against the sheets as abby gives her audience a better view. she sounds goddamn breathtaking going nice and slow, her lower lips spreading so beautifully. this deserves to be painted and displayed in art galleries.
the way she moves, golden strands moving as if she’s controlling every movement. abby anderson is fucking art. nowhere to be found is the shy, nose stuffed in her books, abby. this version of her is so different it’s causing you to see stars.
moving her hips you didn’t even know was possible. you can’t even process fit her body actually is, the one she hides away. suffocated by thick cable knit sweaters, loose button downs concealing her burling biceps, and the chinos she wears on a daily basis. all of it is more than you can stomach.
“like looking at my pussy, baby?” abby giggles. fucking giggles. “splitting my pussy open, feel you s’deep, almost in my stomach. yeah?”
the urge to slip your fingers inside your pussy and touch yourself while she fucks herself is right there but you can seem to do it. settling for pressed thighs and tight grip on bat while you breath heavily. unable to catch on breath.
“why don’t i spread it for you? give you a better view. after all, im such a sweetheart.” with one free hand, she pulls at the fat of her ass and you nearly choke on the air around you. her puckered hole, the sweet sin of her cunt staring right at you while you salivate. it pools to the floor along with your dignity.
she leaves the shot there for a moment, letting her viewers tune in to take all of her in before she lets go. the fat of her ass bounces, increasing her speed as she slams over herself on the cock. the audacity of you to never think of her like this because fuck, this is everything.
you want to be the one fucking her. your fingers pulling at her golden strands, pretty face smudged against the mattress as you take her from behind. a curious mind wonders what she would say to you, how good she would be taking it from behind. molding her strong body into whatever you fucking want. would she let you?
abby’s voice breaks through the stance she has you under, permitting you of daydreaming any longer. instead, your eyes focus on the way she fucks herself.
“need to stuff my pussy full, don’t you? s’all you can think about, yeah…i know. making a pretty girl like me cum is your fucking dream.” her back arcs, giving them a better view of her. another piece for everyone to enjoy, you included.
her voice breaks, irrevocably but abby tries again. “t-this is what you wanted all this time? for me to be your whore? show you how much of a slut i can be?” you feel it in your stomach. the light pressure building as you clench your pussy around nothing, your thighs rubbing together continuously. if she cums, fuck, you won’t be able to control yourself.
“i’ll do whatever you want. it’s all for you.” you’re fucking lost. abby picks up the pace, the way her hips stutter indicates she’s so close. without even touching yourself, you are too. “no one else can make me feel like this, i—”a low groan leaves her lips, the echoes of her slick invade your senses. jesus christ, you would do anything to taste her.
abby doesn’t say much until she’s reaching her peak. just loud moans, intoxicating whimpers, and delicious sound of her cunt being fucked again, and again, and again. then you take note of her shakes, beautiful thighs trembling as they fail under the undeniable pleasure coursing through her veins.
“s’close, gonna cum. fuckfuckfuck!” you see her white, hot cum soak the dildo, white substance spilling over sun-kissed skin, staining the sheets. it’s fucking everywhere. abby doesn’t stop. as if she knows you’re watching and wants to torture you.
“please come for me baby? mommy needs your cum. gonna give it to me, yeah? i’m your sweet girl after all.” just like that, you lose it. white coated cum covers your boxers, staining you through. you feel every nerve in your body coated in her, begging to be trenched in her touch.
“yeah? that’s it. s’all mine. just like you, baby. my fucking pussy.” your entire body twitches, clit throbbing at her words. only thing you hear is her heavy breaths slowing down as abby slowly calms herself.
even when she’s shaking, trembling, she fucks herself through it. you can’t look away. not when she’s made you cum like that. no one’s ever made you cum with voice alone. abby’s soothing tone scratches the surface of the unbridled desire bumbling out of you. now, you’ll be sick until you can have her. is it pathetic? maybe. but your hands are greedy, aching to touch every inch of her body, make her feel whatever she wants.
you make yourself scarce. the stakes of getting caught too high. shame. the overwhelming feeling almost settles instantly but you find it withering the more you think about the tsunami wave of the orgasm she unknowingly gifted you.
with every passing moment, each turn in your sleep, you feel guilty for watching for as long as you did. you can’t sleep. always thinking of her. every waking moment is always about her. you’ll never be able to see abby the same. maybe it’ll be your demise or your saving grace.
for now, all you can do is welcome the all consuming passion that is her. your dorky best friend and roommate who certainly does know how to fuck.
