Discover Top Posts Tagged with #lesbian fluff

Popular Recent

Experts agree that "just let it happen" is one of the hottest things to say during sex, ranked in the highest eschelons along with "stop thinking, just feel" and "I love you"

#nsft #c4t lesbian #t4c wlw #c4t wlw #original posting from me #Lesbian fluff

teaching is a work of heart

part one 𝜗𝜚 part two

single mom! sevika x kindergarten teacher! reader

synopsis: One of your students has been rather troubled lately, so you have to schedule a parent-teacher conference.

warnings: fluff, single mom! sevika, kindergarten teacher! reader, modern au, afab reader, 'ms' used to describe reader in future chapters

word count: 1.7k

a/n: I have the utmost respect for teachers bc omg id lose my mind if I had to spend my day with kids that yell 67 and skibidi toilet at me

You felt the familiar feeling of two miniature arms wrapping around your legs.

"Hello Isha darling," you smile softly as Isha's large amber eyes stare into your own.

She smiles widely, then runs into your overwhelmingly coloured classroom and sits on the carpet with the other children. Seeing her get along with the other children really puts a smile on your face and a warm feeling in your heart.

"Ok, go inside," you hear a familiar gruff voice from behind you — it's Sevika. You turn and Sevika's silver eyes lock in on yours for a moment, before she looks back down at her daughter.

"Go," Sevika says, motioning for her daughter to step into your class.

You giggle and cross your arms as Rue shakes her head 'no.'

"C'mon Rue," you smile softly at her. "We'll have a fun day today, sweetheart."

Rue glares at you for a moment, then crosses her arms and looks back up at Sevika — who was giving her a warning glare. She groans and grumbles as she begrudgingly steps into your classroom.

Before Sevika can leave, you decide that this would be the best time to ask her about setting up a potential parent-teacher conference.

"Wait, Sevika!" You call out, which causes for her to turn to you.

"What?" She turns, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.

"Um," you nervously step towards her. "I have some .. concerns about your daughter, Rue."

Sevika tilts her head slightly, "what do you mean?"

"Well," you sigh. "She's been acting out and has been rather .. inconsiderately towards other students. I've been hoping that I could possibly discuss this with you further over a parent-teacher conference tonight?"

Sevika grumbles, "yeah, sure."

You smile, "okay! Thank you! I'll see you tonight then?"

Sevika just nods and exits out of the school building. You sigh and walk into your classroom.

You’ve known about Rue’s troubling perspective on what’s happening at her home due to her journals. You’ve read about how her mother, Sevika’s ex-wife, had abandoned the two of them last year.

You’ve read about how she misses Sevika and hates how little time she spends with her mom. You’ve seen her use vocabulary that a 7-year-old doesn’t typically use.

However, seems that Rue doesn’t have the mental capacity to properly understand what happened. Despite her ‘mature’ mindset; or well, ‘mature’ compared to the other children at least.

When you walk into the classroom Rue is already beginning to misbehave. You watch as she steals a crayon from Isha, who was just trying to colour one of the morning colouring pages you give your kids during the start of every class.

"Rue!" You call out, but she doesn't even acknowledge you. "Give the crayon back to Isha."

"No!" Rue yells, grabbing the crayon box and throwing it against a wall, causing for the crayons to all snap at the impact.

"Rue," you walk towards her, but carefully and softly as you don't want to possibly frighten her. "Calm down, sweetheart."

"No! You're not my mom!" She cries out, glaring at you.

For some reason, hearing her say that makes your heart sting and you have to step back for just a moment.

"Ok, sweetheart." You sigh, "go sit down in the cozy chair."

The Cozy Chair — you'd often refer to it as such instead of a 'Timeout Corner' as you didn't want to intimidate the children. Majority of the time the chair is empty. However, Rue is often found seated there due to her outbursts within the classroom.

Rue stomps and sits down on the bejewelled beanbag chair, grumbling words that you can only assume are insults towards you.

"Here you go Isha," you smile softly as you give her a new box of crayons. You notice the tears that were welling up within the corners of her eyes and frown. "It's a new box of crayons, darling."

Isha sniffles and grabs the crayons, then continues to colour her landscape colouring page.

"Ok class!" You walk towards the cork board, motioning at a construction paper project that you had made yourself. "Today we're going to be scrapbooking! So go ahead and grab some glue sticks and a pair of safety scissors!"

You watch as all of your students excitedly run towards your organized supply boxes that sit next to your desk. Within the blink of an eye all your glue sticks, scissors, and coloured construction paper is gone.

All the children run back into their assigned seats, but you notice how Rue hasn't gotten up from the Cozy Corner just yet.

"Rue, sweetheart!" You call out to her, "come on, we're doing an activity."

She turns to look at you, but then crosses her arms and faces the wall. You sigh and grab a few sheets of papers that you had set aside purposely for Rue, as you knew that this would happen.

"Here you go," you smile as you hold the pieces of paper in front of her.

“I don’t want to do that!” Rue yells, slapping the paper out of your hands. The moment her hand makes contact with the papers within your hands, it catches you off guard.

But, you just sigh.

Throughout the day, during recesses and snack breaks, Rue just sits there. Even when you tell her she doesn’t have to, she doesn’t even budge.

The only moment she moves is when the school bell rings and it’s finally time to head home. You watch carefully as Rue grabs her backpack and leaves the classroom before anyone else can.

Later that evening, the classroom feels like an entirely different place.

Gone is the cheerful chaos of giggles and crayons and alphabet songs. The posters still hang in their bright, overly-enthusiastic colours, but now, under the low amber glow of the hallway lights, the room feels quieter.

Heavier.

You sit at your desk, glancing over Rue’s latest drawing — a scribbled storm of red and black crayon with the word “NO” scratched in the corner.

You sigh, then glance at the clock.

6:03 PM.

Right on time, you hear the familiar clack of Sevika’s boots echoing down the hallway. Moments later, she steps into your classroom — still in her dark leather coat, one mechanical arm glinting faintly under the dim light.

She’s carrying a takeout coffee in her human hand, and from the deep lines under her eyes, you suspect it’s not her first cup of the day.

She closes the door behind her with a dull click, then leans against the wall near the entrance, arms crossed.

“So?” she asks bluntly, not bothering to sit.

You clear your throat and stand, motioning toward the small table you’d set up with two chairs. “Would you like to—?”

“I’m good here.”

"Right." You nod slowly, collecting your thoughts.

“It’s not that Rue is bad,” you start, choosing your words carefully, “she’s incredibly smart. Independent. But lately, she’s been .. pushing boundaries. She’s refusing to participate, arguing with the other kids, and she’s been really rough during playtime.”

Sevika listens, impassive. Her gaze doesn’t waver.

You try again. “This isn’t about punishment. I just want to understand what might be going on. She’s clearly going through something.”

For a long moment, Sevika says nothing. She just looks down at the floor, her jaw tightening slightly.

“She say anything?” she finally asks.

You hesitate. “Not really. She did mention once that she misses you a lot. Said you’re always ‘tired or gone' in one of her morning journal entries” You soften your tone.

Sevika scoffs quietly, rubbing a hand down her face. “Yeah. Well. She’s not wrong.”

A silence falls between you, but it isn’t hostile. Just weary.

You decide to press, gently. “Is everything okay at home?”

Sevika lets out a humourless laugh.

“You mean aside from workin’ twelve-hour shifts in a factory run by assholes, raising a kid who thinks I’m the enemy, and trying not to lose my temper every goddamn day?” She looks at you, eyes a little softer now. “Yeah. Peachy.”

You don’t flinch. Instead, you offer a small nod, acknowledging the weight behind her words.

“I’m not judging,” you say softly. “But maybe Rue needs more than just the basics. She needs you. Your presence. Even five minutes a night could make a difference — just reading a book, or asking how her day went. She’s testing limits because she’s trying to find yours.”

Sevika looks away, jaw clenched. Then, surprisingly, she lets out a deep breath and mutters, “I don’t know how to do this.”

You feel something loosen in your chest at the admission.

“You don’t have to have all the answers,” you reply. “But trying? That’s enough. And Rue’ll feel it.”

For the first time all evening, Sevika steps away from the wall. She looks at the mess of classroom supplies, the glitter-covered construction paper still pinned to the cork board.

“Who made this?” She tilts her head.

“I did!” You smile, “I was showcasing an activity for the children this morning.”

“Did Rue do anythin’?” Sevika asks, some hope within her tone.

You sigh and look over at the Cozy Chair, where the scattered pieces of paper still lay on the colourful carpet.

“Of course,” she sighs, taking a rather large sip of her coffee. “Where’re those .. journals that you were talking ‘bout?”

“Right here,” you smile softly, grabbing Rue’s journal off of your desk that has all the different activities your kids worked on today.

You didn’t even look at your desk as you grabbed the journal. As you don’t even have to really check which one is here; she never bothered to cover hers in stickers similarly to the other children.

“Can I .. read it?” Sevika asks, “or does that break some teacher-student confidentiality code that I don’t know ‘bout?”

You giggle, “well, we don’t have that when it comes to parents. So, technically you can read it, I just feel weird allowing you to do so.”

“So,” Sevika leans close towards you. “I can?”

You feel your face slightly warm up, but you attempt to stay professional. “Well .. yes?”

Sevika grabs the journal from your hands using her mechanical arm, and moves away from you. She skims through it, and you see her tough demeanour shatter in the slightest bit.

“Okay, well.” She clears her throat, “thanks.”

You smile and regain your composure, “of course! Have a great night.”

“You too,” Sevika sighs as she steps out in the hallway, the clacks of her boots echoing down further and further away from you.

Hope you guys love this first chapter!! Im so excited to be writing this series now

comment to be a part of my taglist ! !

taglist: @freakyjorker @poeticrenaissance @girlsngearboxes @riotstemple29 @notsevikaa @blessupblessup @djena1d @tupiiiin @asahipoopoo @m0ss-gremlin @sevikas-side-chick @babydeertears @the-bloopsters @tzuvoir @cecil606 @georgiahs-stuff @hadesboneyard @ellabslover @sevikaspet @g1rl-0f-ur-dr34ms @lez-zuha @imheadintothemountains @therealcaitlyn @abbyssgf @sevi-kas01 @the3v1lqueen @sunflowerwinds @kittymrtnezz69 @joyispunk @katalysium @wishingonajellyfish @trineeeoos @lonerslug @httpscatra @rosatrecheri@undercoverdesire @joyispunk @beewives @wherewhatwren @excedr @lilredbird101

with great power comes great lesbianism

꩜ pairing: spiderman!ellie williams x female reader

꩜ warnings: explicit content, language

꩜ word count: 5.5k

꩜ synopsis: your campus crush is awkward, brilliant, and possibly allergic to eye contact. your city’s superhero is bold, brawny, and keeps saving your life. it takes a few close calls and some questionable physics to realise they’re the same girl—and she’s falling for you, too.

Salty Then Sweet

WLW

You ask your girlfriend if she'd still love you if you were a slug.

▪︎586 words, fluff, teasing, a little suggestive, making out, a bit of groping, etc▪︎

She’s sprawled out beneath you, one arm behind her head, the other tracing lazy circles against your thigh. The sheets are kicked down around her waist, skin warm and damp where your nightgown clings to it. The ceiling fan hums above, stirring the faint smell of oil from her hands and the lotion you’d used after your shower.

You say it out of nowhere. “What if I turned into a slug?”

Her brow furrows. “A slug?”

“Mhm.” You shift your weight on her hips, slow, like you’re testing her patience. “Slimy, slow, tragic little thing. Would you still love me?”

She gives a small laugh, one that doesn’t reach her eyes. “That would never happen.”

“But what if I did.” you insist, voice dipping. “Would you still—”

“No,” she cuts in, deadpan. “I’d pour salt on you.”

You blink at her, mouth parted in disbelief. “You’d what?”

Her grin grows sharp, a hint of teeth. “Salt. I'd melt you right down.”

“Oh, well then—fuck you.” You try to slide off her, but she catches your wrist quick, the same hand that had been idle seconds ago. Her grip is warm, solid.

“Hey,” she murmurs, tugging you back until your knee presses into her side again. “I’m joking.”

You don’t look convinced. She leans up, kisses your cheek—just there, where your skin still glows from the bath, and stays close enough that you feel her breath move against your jaw.

Her voice softens, low and amused. “You really think I’d let you crawl away from me? Slug or not.”

You huff, pretending to stay annoyed, but your smile betrays you.

Her hand slides higher, up the back of your thigh to where the nightgown rides. Not rough—just enough to remind you she could keep you here if she wanted.

When you finally meet her eyes, they’ve gone heavy, that slow burn you recognize. The kind that always starts like this—half joke, half threat, all heat.

“You’re so annoying,” you mutter, though your voice has gone softer, caught between irritation and a laugh.

She only hums, that low sound that sits somewhere deep in her chest. Her eyes never leave your face.

Then she pulls you down and kisses you—slow at first, then deeper, hungrier. Her mouth tastes faintly like mint and sleep. You feel the shift in her body, the way she moves to meet you, the way her hand slips under the hem of your nightgown. Warm palms slide over the curve of your ass, fingers flexing like she’s testing the weight of you.

You make a small noise against her mouth when she grinds up, the thin fabric between you doing nothing to dull the heat. She swallows it with another kiss, rougher this time, one that makes your chest ache a little.

“I love you,” she breathes against your lips, the words coming out between a sigh and a murmur.

You pull back just far enough to look at her. Her pupils are blown wide, eyes dark and certain. Your own heartbeat stumbles. “I love you too,” you whisper back.

She smiles. You press your mouth to her throat, feel the jump of her pulse under your tongue. Her hand stays on your ass, the other tracing up your spine until her fingers rest at the base of your neck. You kiss her again, slower this time, and the room goes quiet except for your breathing and the soft creak of the bed beneath you.

The kind of quiet that feels like promise.

The intimacy is open, messy, the kind of kiss that tastes like breath and want. Her tongue drags against yours slow, deliberate, until you forget the joke that started this, forget everything but how close she feels.

Her hands get greedy. One stays low, cupping you through the thin fabric, guiding you down against her; the other drifts up your side, fingers pressing into soft skin like she’s trying to memorize it. You feel her nails catch slightly when she grips, and it makes you gasp against her mouth.

She takes the sound, deepens it. The air between you grows thick. You break just long enough to breathe, foreheads touching, both of you slick with sweat already. Her thumb slides along the inside of your thigh, teasing without meaning to—just restless, needing you closer.

You kiss her again, harder this time. She meets you with a low noise that sounds half like a groan, half like a plea. Her hips shift under you, and you follow the motion before you even think. The nightgown rides up, cool air licking across the back of your thighs.

You pull back, just to look at her—her lips swollen, eyes glassy, hair stuck to her temples. She looks up at you like she might bite or beg; you can’t tell which.

You smile, breathless. “You were gonna pour salt on me, huh?”

She laughs against your jaw, open-mouthed and warm. “Not a chance.”

Dividers by @rmstitanics

All works © liliacsdelight 2025. Do not modify, plagiarize, repost my work, or feed it to ai.

scratching ellies back till she falls asleep

content: pure fluff but suggestive! 𖦹

a/n: a quick drabble bc i wanted too <3 also this was an idea for a while

“are you sure? i dont want to hurt you.. my nails are pretty long” you say hesitantly, your hands spread on ellies bare back

the smell of sex still roamed in the air your earlier activities making ellie all clingy as usual “yes baby.. please”

you sigh and bring your nails up to her back, just starting by tracing her spine, then tracing her scars and bruises.. then she whimpers

its not loud, but definitely not quiet. just a small “ngh” that you definitely noticed, but didn't comment on.

you continue scratching her back for a while, small whimpers and whines coming from her every once in a while, until you feel her body go limp and her breathing starting to get softer.

you take your hands off her back to go to sleep yourself and kiss all of the eight red lines on her back from your nails

you fall asleep in minutes, dozing off with a small “goodnight els”

#men dni #ellie willams x reader #lesbian #fluff #ellie williams #lesbian fluff #fanfic #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #tlou

Paris

wc. 1.5k

summary: Despite spoiling the surprise a week ago, Ellie makes her plans come true and asks you to marry her.

previous part (but you can read it as a stand alone if you want!!!)

pure fluff, reader has no physical description

To say Ellie was nervous was probably the misunderstanding of her life.

She did a long and detailed list of the things that had to be ready for the proposal to go absolutely perfect, and then proceed to hid it in her notes app of her phone and hidden under the title of groceries in case you ever saw over her shoulder –She had to be careful, alright?

Flowers? arranged

Wine? it was the first thing she had bought once they landed on París, while you slept to recover from the yet lag.

The ring? she had it. duh. Had even checked the pocket of her bag at least one hundred times to be absolutely sure that she actually packed it.

Food for the picnic? hell yeah.

Her outfit? she bought her first ever formal shirt for this.

A heartfel, profound and long speech to show you how deep her love for you is and how she deserves to become your wife? Absolutely fucking yes.

She wouldn’t consider herself a person of words. Love confessions weren’t her thing because it was really hard for her to pour her feelings into her words, which extremely frustrated her on special situations like this. On any other occasion she leaned for other ways to express her love, but for some reason it didn’t clic right on her brain to do that for your proposal.

She knew you would say yes. Not because she had a feeling or anything, but because you two had talked about it before, planned your future together and agreed on wanting to get married in the future. Also, the whole drunk confession fiasco was very recent, and although she would rather delete that night from existence it had proved to be rather useful because it worked as reassurance that if you didn’t want to get engaged yet you would have said something that night.

Right?

She hoped so.

She waited for you to get dressed on the edge of the bed. Ellie had insisted that you should pick a nice outfit, because she knew that you would be pissed if your engagement pictures had a mid outfit, her own clothes nicer than she had ever wore. She felt weird in a solid white dress shirt and black dress pants, but it was not weird as in out of place that this kind of clothes used to bring to her, instead weird as in excitement, nervous, happy and terrified all at once.

Her fingers caressed the velvet of the ringbox in circles, trying to calm herself as she rehearsed in her mind the words she had prepared but was interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening that warned her of your arrival, making her put the box back in it’s place on her pant’s pocket.

And there you were, glorious and gorgeous as ever. Ellie could swear you were glowing in that white summer dress you had chosen for the occasion and she could swear she stared at you agape, which made you giggle.

“I’m getting you like the dress”

You knew what was going to happen. Not only because what Ellie told you the other night, but also because she was the worst at keeping secrets. Discretion was not her thing, and it had been quite obvious that she was meaning to ask for your hand since a few months ago (it’s not like “so what’s your favorite gem?” or “what’s your ring size?” are everyday question, thank you very much) but you had tried your best to contain your excitement and wait for the day. Which was evidently today because Ellie had insisted on you wearing something really nice, despite the plan for the day being a picnic on a garden, and had dressed up nicely.

“You look absloublty stunning, princess” Said Ellie as she got up from the bed and placed her hands on your hips. “You’re ready to go?”

“Mhm, although you’ve been very secretive about this whole picnic plan of yours” You teased, joining your hands on her neck.

“Everything is in control, you just have to follow me and look pretty. You already got the second part so that’s pretty easy”

“Look at you, all flirty. Alright, I’ll let you handle the itinenary let’s get going miss Williams”

She took a step back from you and grabbed the basked she had prepared –because she could have packed the food and the wine on a toteback, but she wanted to have the entire picnic imagery– and walked hand by hand with you out of the hotel and on the way to the garden she had chosen after a lot of investigation from her part.

Everything was milimetrically planned, the spot she had chosen for the picnic was in a section of the park that was surrounded by flowers, but private enough so you two wouldn’t have an audience. Things were going according to her plan and the two of you ate what she had prepared between laugher, kisses and the kind of conversations that usually occurred between the two of you (which could include how pretty everything had been so far on the trip, gossip from back home, or if the dinosaurs had been fluffy).

Then, she started the next phase of her plan. Get you to stand up from the blanket so she could surprise you getting on one knee.

“Babe, would you mind buying a bottle of water on that little store we saw close? I’m so thirsty and forgot to bring something to drink besides the wine and the soda” She said, and it was an obvious lie because deep in the basket you had seen a water bottle but you weren’t about to be hard on the occasion of your proposal.

“Sure, I’ll be right back” you said, kissing her briefly before getting up, fixing the possible wrinkles in the skirt of your dress and walking towards said store, wich was around five minutes away.

As quickly as she could, Ellie got the flowers from the bottom of the basket, got on one knee and grabbed the velvet box from her pocket, caressing it again for comfort as she waited for you.

Now, one thing was knowing that Ellie had plans to ask you to marry her and another thing entirely was the vision of her holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers on one hand, a velvet ringbox on the other, and down on one of her knees.

She looked like the illustration of a fairy tale, and immediately your eyes watered as you walked back to her side.

“Hey” she nervously giggled as she looked at you.

“Hey you” You answered, trembling hand covering your mouth in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“I think you know very well what I’m doing” she cleared her throat, and handed you the bouquet of flowers. “You… I’ve been meaning to do this for a while. Actually, if I had had the money back when we first met I would have done this after a month of dating you, but I wanted to do things the right way, you know? Because you deserve that. Gosh, you deserve the entire world, all the stars in the universe are not enough to show how much I love you, and I would give them all to you if they were mine. You are the most marvelous person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, and loving you makes me a better person” Ellie started talking, and her own eyes watered as she looked up at you.

“Your mind amazes me every single day, your heart is the most precious thing in the world. I want to hold you in my arms every day, love you every second, grow old by your side. Help you in every dream that you have and that you support me with my own dreams. So, that’s why I’m here today, asking you if you would want to marry me?” As if it was a movie, she coordinated perfectly the moment when she asked the question with opening the ring box to reveal the beautiful rign she had picked out for you, exactly the design you liked, that you had talked to her about so many years about.

On your side, tears of happiness were running freely on your cheeks as you looked down at Ellie. This beautiful woman that looked out of a dream and was saying all the right words to you. Your heart felt full of love for her and the feeling of needing to hug her invaded you, so you also got down on your knees and wrapped your arms around her, flowers forgotten by your side. It felt right now, your heart and hers beating close in the same rhythm.

“Oh Ellie” you said, and had to take a break to gain your composure back. “That was the most beautiful thing you have ever said to me”

“Yeah? I had to do many versions of that speech” she mumbled, one of her hands finding it’s place on your back as the other still held the open ringbox. “You… you haven’t answered yet”

“Of course I want to marry you” you backed from the hug and cradled her face in your hands. “You’re the love of my life, of course I want to marry you”

She started crying openly as well, and grabbed the ring from it’s box to slide it into your finger with trembling hands.

“I guess I’ll be calling you Mrs Williams now.”

author's note: as always thank you for reaching <3 feel free to send any ask, I would love to talk more to you guys or if you want to be tagged in any future fics

tag list: @valeisaslut @satellitespinner @les4elliewilliams @liztreez @notlinearr @violetinferno @xoxo-macie994 @thatredheadloserlesbian @summerwriting

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #lesbian #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams fluff #wlw #lesbian fluff #lesbian pride #lesbian proposal #lesbian wedding #sapphic #tlou #andrea writes ✰

vi x reader — modern au but vi overworks herself on weekdays and sleeps almost all day during weekends to reboot , and reader is always trapped in bed with her as vi just cuddles her and murmurs stuff like "u smell good . . . " "i like u right here . . . "

I Was Made For Loving You, Baby

mechanic vi x girlfriend reader

vi took pride in her work ethic. she was determined, ambitious, strong- but most of all, she took pride in you. her perfect saint, she'd tease you with, but part of her truly meant it.

there had been times where she'd come back from the shop utterly exhausted and covered in motor oil. she didnt even care to wash up- getting into bed and mumbling into your sheets about a shitty costumer she had serviced that day. and then later that evening, as you ran a damp towel down her rough skin as she sat in the tub, she had figured out that they were new sheets you had put on and apologized profusely.

she loved her job, mostly- but even more on nights like this. the soft glow of the moon spilled in through the open curtains, draping over your bare skin as you lay- tangled between your girlfriends overheated skin and warm sheets.

"you're so good to me."

she spoke softly as her chest began to rise and fall gently, steadily, her hand rubbing up and down your back. as if soothing you soothed her.

"just by being here... i like you here. need you here."

you look up with a tight smile, holding back tears as best as possible. you don't need to say anything, not when she can feel your response. her blue eyes meet yours, and she doesn't look like the big, hard woman you see at the shop daily- she looks like the soft, broken woman you had met and fell in love with, and as she says- 'fixed.'

she ducks her head into your neck, and you quickly wrap your hands over her, one hand gently scraping at her oily scalp. she inhales deeply, trying to memorize your scent as if it was the last time.

"you smell so good.."

you can barely hear her with the way she whispers it, muffled by your skin and fucking grateful. you cough out a laugh, shaking your head, your voice playful

"you're a softie, violet."

"i'm in love, baby."