Does Vi prefer to be on her knees and eaten out from behind because of the feeling of loss of control when Cait holds her arms behind her back or does she prefer to look Caitlyn in the eye?
to quote a wise friend of ours "she needs both"
from behind + restrained IS vital for the loss of control you mentioned. like i think the heightened feeling of vulnerability from having her arms held back + not being able to see what's happening is the exact kind of thing that gets vi hot and really turns her into a shuddering, subby mess. with caitlyn controlling the position she's in, truly all vi can do is just lay there and take it and that's good for her! it's hot! the reward for giving up power and letting caitlyn take control of her body and her pleasure is getting eaten out crazy style and no one deserves it more than vi r cane
HOWEVER
she is also a sappy bitch. she craves intimacy. eye contact can be both tender and comforting or it can be used to reinforce caitlyn's dominance, depending on the level of smoulder, so it's a plus either way. definitely think this is their go-to most of the time bc they're both needy losers that want to be able to look at each other as much as possible and crave eye contact and connection. this is especially the way to go on nights where vi needs a little more coddling and emotional reassurance. although wrt eye contact i think sometimes it CAN get a little too intense when she's close to coming and sometimes she has to be coaxed/compelled by Caitlyn, which rides the line between slightly humiliating and a major turn-on that both of them get off on
So whenever me and the boy go into f.y.e I always play a game with the porn section by flicking down the censor flaps to see the hilarious titles they come up with. Needlessly to say I am twelve year old in a 25 year olds body. Moving on, in the anime section there is one measly hentai well you'll see...
He found her hunched over a mountain of parchment and a stack of books, her head resting on her crossed arms, and her bushy hair fanning over her shoulders. Harry sighed, smiling to himself, before crossing the Gryffindor common room and trailing his hands over her back, rubbing lightly and murmuring her name to rouse her.Â
He presses his lips to her temple and smiles when Hermioneâs eyes flutter open, looking sleepily up at him. âHarry? What time is it?â
âTime for breakfast. Did you sleep down here again?â
She nods and begins shuffling the parchment in front of her. âI had about 2 feet of problems to work out for Arithmancy, that Snape essay, and the Defense Against the Dark Arts report on centaurs due. I just got a bit carried away. Oh Harry, it was so interesting. I never knew centaur culture was so--mmph.â
Harryâs lips covered hers, soft and teasing, effectively cutting off her speech. âSweetheart, this is the 3rd time in 4 days that youâve slept down here. I think you need a day off.â
âWhat! Harry, no, I couldnât possibly! I have--âÂ
âWhatâs that, Hermione? Youâre feeling under the weather? You need to lie down with your exceedingly handsome boyfriend, Harry Potter, and skive off classes?â Harry grins at her, eyes batting at her innocently.
She canât help the smile twitching at her lips, but thereâs still a bit of fight left in her. âHarry, honestly, as lovely as that sounds, I--â
Another kiss to her lips and her eyes flutter close, forgetting why exactly sheâs fighting so hard. They pull away and Harry rubs his thumb over her cheekbone, âI donât know Hermione, youâre feeling awfully warm. Your cheeks are flushed, too. Sounds like you need to take a sick day and recover.â
His hand tangles itself in her hair and he presses a line of kisses from her cheek to her jaw to her neck, smiling as she gasps and her hand resting on his thigh tightens.
âNow that you mention it,â she says, breathlessly. âI am feeling a bit under the weather. Maybe I should take that sick day...â
the problem with pewdiepie is that this isnt the first time hes done a shitty thing like this and he gives the same flimsy 'sorry this was offensive' response every time. the last few times it was the n word, now this.
i pretend i do not see your other prompts đ«Ł ANYWAY - amberpricefield 25
25. a kiss âŠas a âyesâ.
[bri explosionshark voice] so uh this one got away from me a little
-
Itâs stupid, probably. Impulsive, definitely. Expensive? More than Rachel really wants to think about.
But itâs been four straight days of Rachelâs family â her fatherâs condescension, his smothering disappointment, her motherâs affected neutrality, the nonstop gawking and whispering of the cousins and aunts and uncles she hasnât seen in years â and when Chloe jokingly sends her a screenshot of early flights home immediately followed by a picture of her tits, tank top hiked up under her armpits, Maxâs tongue curling up and over the straining peak of one of her pierced nipples Rachel canât help herself. She makes sure the door is locked and sinks back into the mattress in her childhood bedroom, listens impatiently as the line rings twice before Chloe picks up, strains her ears to listen to every breathy moan and high whine that travels across the line while she touches herself and listens to Max and Chloe getting each other off in the apartment they moved into in Seattle just last month.
Itâs a shitty apartment â not big enough for the three of them by a long shot, cramped and shabby, and way too expensive, but itâs the only place she wants to be right now. In the aftermath, fingers still wet with her own come, heart thumping heavy in her chest, she listens to Max and Chloe whisper to her across the miles, imagines the phone on the pillow between them, or face up on Chloeâs bare chest, what her voice must sound like to them rising up from the speakers. She thinks about the faint sheen of sweat that must be cooling on their skin, thinks of the way she would suck the taste of Max off of Chloeâs fingers if she was there with them. Rachel talks, telling them she misses them, complains about her family and imagines how theyâd wrap their arms around her if they could, imagines how Maxâs fingers would feel combing through her hair, how Chloeâs lips skipping across her shoulder blades would fee as they held her.Â
And then, once theyâve said goodnight, sheâs left staring at the screen of her phone, at the list of all the next dayâs flights back to Washington. And so she buys one â puts in on the credit card, fuck it sheâll figure it out later â and decides not to tell Max and Chloe. Decides itâs because she wants it to be a surprise, and not because the moment she gets the order confirmation she suddenly feels unbearably pathetic and needy.Â
The next morning, she breaks it to her parents while sheâs waiting for her Uber to the airport, feeling more than a little guilty about it when she sees the look of genuine shock ripple across her momâs face. Sheâs pretty sure neither of her parents buy her vague âsomething came up at workâ excuse (what emergencies, exactly, is a barista, no matter how talented and beloved, expected to fly home for on short notice to resolve?) but her cousinâs wedding has already happened. Heâs on his way to Cabo for a honeymoon with his starry-eyed new wife and Rachel couldnât be happier for him or more grateful that thereâs no other obligations tethering her to California.
Theyâre not happy, but sheâs blindsided them so effectively thereâs no time to fight about it. She spends the whole ride to the airport with her phone in her lap, screen open to her text thread with Max and Chloe. Thereâs been some good morning texts exchanged, a picture of their coffee cups on the counter that Max sent this morning, some dumb meme from Chloe. Rachel thinks about the text she could send â teasing them with a surprise, or outright asking to get picked up â a screenshot of her boarding pass. Anything. But a queasy, sour feeling has settled in her stomach, the weight of the aborted argument with her parents pressing down on Rachel like a heavy hand. She looks at the photos, the texts, the messages. They seem so normal without her there. Oh, they miss her, Rachel doesnât think theyâre lying. But they still have each other â just like they did before Rachel met either of them.
Theyâre so good together. Thereâs always been this⊠thing between them that Rachel isnât part of. When she met Chloe, before Max was even back in her life, it had bothered Rachel a little, the way she talked about Max, the way Chloe missed her, the way Rachel couldnât help but feel like she must be, on some level, always stacked up beside the idea of Max in Chloeâs mind. The way she couldnât ever really imagine living up to something so perfect â a childhood best friend. Sheâd wanted to resent Max for it, honestly, when they first met, for the years of insecurity built up and calcified, but Max had proven too impossible to hate. Too easy to love.
Max and Chloe are good to her. Rachel knows she isnât always easy to be with â moody, sometimes. She can get mean when she feels threatened, can shut herself off, hurt them and herself with the ways she denies them. Rachel knows that sometimes she just makes things hard on everyone.
And they love her âshe knows thisâ but maybe they were enjoying a break from her. Or maybe itâs not even something that harsh, maybe they were simply enjoying a little time for just the two of them. The way they used to be. The way that seems to come so easily for them.
Rachel tries suffocating the thoughts, tries stuffing them down, blocking them out, but try as she might, they seem to stubbornly settle in on the short flight back to Seattle, sinking into her bones. She lands, she deboards, she doesnât text them. She doesnât call.
She orders another car. She gets dropped off outside their apartment building, thinking for one, crazy, shame-filled moment maybe I should get a room somewhere. Imagines hiding out for two more nights, here in the city she moved to to be with these two women, and feels so ridiculous and cowardly and absurd that it snaps her out of the funk, gives her the strength to put one foot after another and head into the building, up the stairs, to their third floor apartment with the janky lock that sticks and the goofy rainbow doormat Max talked them into the week they moved in.
Theyâre in the kitchen, cleaning up after a late breakfast it looks like, so they see her right away. Chloe whoops and sprints for her, clumsily clipping her hip on the tiny kitchen table thatâs somehow still too big for the space they have, hissing and cursing but barely slowing down. She pulls Rachel into a fierce hug, lifting and spinning her with too much force, sending Rachelâs suitcase clattering to its side and nearly taking them both to the ground when Chloe loses her balance. Itâs Max, following close behind, who laughs and shoves at Chloeâs shoulders, steadying them, keeping them upright.
Rachel can barely breathe between how hard sheâs laughing and how much Chloe is kissing her: big wet, silly smooches across her whole face from her forehead to her cheeks, from the bridge of her nose to the point of her chin, Chloeâs voice warm against her skin, âYouâre home, youâre home, youâre home.â
âShe got you with the flight schedules, didnât she?â Max says, squeezing herself between them with a huff and wrapping her arms around Rachelâs waist. âI told her not to do that. Total guilt trip. But sheâs been hopeless without you.â
âMe hopeless?â Chloe scoffs, conceding ground to Max and scooting around to press herself into Rachelâs back, sandwiching her between them. âRach, she cried.â
âShut up,â Max huffs, slapping around Rachelâs body at Chloe.
âWhat?â Rachel laughs, flooded with warmth at the pretty pink blush on Maxâs face, the audible grin in Chloeâs voice.
âAfter we hung up last night,â Chloe continues gleefully, absolutely undeterred by Maxâs groans of embarrassment. âAnd it wasnât the rockinâ orgasm I just gave her either. It was because she missed you soooo bad.â
âAt least I didnât try to get her to leave her family behind,â Max tosses back. Then, ââRockin orgasm?ââ
âWho talks like that?â Rachel rolls her eyes.
âTry? Who tried? I succeeded,â Chloe gloats, ignoring their digs.
âI guess you did,â Rachel concedes. âSo,â she cups Maxâs face in her hands, taking a moment to just look at her â the constellation of freckles on her face, her pretty lips, flushed and bright-eyed and so pleased to see her. The weight from the plane â all that shame, all that insecurity â feels like a distant bad dream now, with Max looking up at her like that. âYou missed me, huh?â
Max rolls her eyes and leans up to kiss her. Itâs not a gentle, chaste or at all reluctant, itâs hungry and fierce and undeniable, bearing with it the milky sweet taste of Maxâs morning coffee when she pushes her tongue past Rachelâs lips, kissing her deeply, parting with the slightest sting of her teeth as she nips Rachelâs bottom lip. Bold, the way she licks Rachelâs smarting lip right after. Bolder still the way she looks at Rachel, eyes hungry and half-lidded, hips slotted in close.
âHey,â Chloe chimes in, breathing a little heavier than it had been a moment ago for all her tone is still light and playful. She slips her hand under Rachelâs shirt, palm pressed into her belly pulling her body ever so slightly closer into Chloeâs, like she canât bear even an inch of space between them, like sheâll do anything to feel just a little bit more of her. âDonât get too cocky, okay? I might have guilt tripped you and Max might have cried, but you just dropped like three hundred bucks to come back a couple days early.â
âI guess weâre all a little pathetic, huh?â Rachel whispers, leaning her head back when Chloe winds her free hand into Rachelâs hair and tugs gently. With the line of her neck exposed, Chloe wastes no time, dipping her head down to dot wet kisses along her skin while Maxâs hands start working the button of Rachelâs jeans.
âA little,â Max agrees, and then her fingers are slipping past the band of Rachelâs panties.
The early flight home was so worth it, actually, Rachel thinks, breath hitching, rolling her head back into Chloeâs shoulder and rocking up into Maxâs hand. So worth it.
Do you collect something? Whatâs an underrated band you wish had a bigger following? Whatâs a game from your teenage years that still has you in a chokehold? If you could experience any story again totally blind, which one would you pick? Is there something you wish you had gotten into but never managed before?
hi lucyyyy. thank u these are such good questions :)
Do you collect something?
nothing particularly unusual. i have pretty big collections of records, books and comics. i'm not actively collecting comics anymore, but i still have about eight short boxes filled with various titlesi was really into at one point or another - including all the single issues of Gotham Central, Secret Six (original run), and Birds of Prey (from Dixon to the New 52 reboot, including crossovers)
Whatâs an underrated band you wish had a bigger following?
ooh, i'll give two answers. one would be sleepy vikings - they were doing the kind of country-tinged shoegazey alt rock thing about five years before ppl decided they liked that sound. i fucking love the one record they put out, it always bummed me out they never did anything else
aside from them, i also wish the machinist was a bigger band. idk if they're even still together, but they're a metalcore band from NYC. plenty heavy, but with good grooves and hooks too.
Whatâs a game from your teenage years that still has you in a chokehold?
mass effect series!!! i think i was like 18 or 19 when i played me1 for the first time. instantly did something irreversible to me. that was the first game i played that let me be gay in a meaningful way and i immediately fell in love with it for the storytelling and the music and the alien girlfriend of it all
If you could experience any story again totally blind, which one would you pick?
oh man. i thought about this all day and i think the answer might be the green bone saga books by fonda lee? i really love that series, it's only three books (plus a novella and some short stories, fine), but they're long and expertly plotted and the scope feels so huge. every moment of being on that ride felt incredible.
Is there something you wish you had gotten into but never managed before?
i think being an animorphs kid would have been really good for me, but it's far too late now. same with platformers - i think it would be dope to be one of those people who's just really good at shit like celeste and spelunky and whatnot but i absolutely do not want to put in the work to build up that skill set.
swapping the order here bc i wanna post a long snippet for #3
19. any new fics to start next year
yessss!! god, i have so many ideas. i want to do the long ride continuation that bridges the gap between the end of ch3 and the beginning of hands - basically a story about vi moving out and into her own place. there's lots i want to explore with them since that's basically just like a regular post-canon universe i'm a little extra invested in. i also had this whole other idea too that's probably going to be long ride-verse about their engagement.
THEN there's a bunch of smut fics i want to write (vi wanting to be edged, two pump chump hexstrap caitlyn, the fuck or die/sex pollen fic)
also i've been thinking about dipping a toe back into what might soothe you? after i got a request for it from a friend. that's mostly just a matter of figuring out what else i want to say there - i'm contemplating a valentine's day fic, or something 5+1
3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year
it's a few paragraphs of smut so it's behind the cut :)
okay this bit near the end of the last chapter of long ride (for now)
âYouâre mine,â Caitlyn murmurs into Viâs mouth, and kisses her again, hard, not letting up until she feels Vi shake against her and swallow. She imagines the words washed down Viâs throat, becoming part of her. âMine,â she repeats, feeling half-mad, unraveled by the intensity of her need for Vi.
âYours,â Vi affirms, head tipping back into the pillows as Caitlynâs crooks her finger, rubbing up into the spongy, sensitive place inside of her. âFuck, yes, Iâm yours.â
She feels so good around Caitlyn â tight and hot and so, so, beautifully wet. Itâs everything Caitlyn dreamed about for months. No, itâs better, because for all she ached for Vi, for all she wanted exactly this, to be inside her, to possess her so fully, she hadnât even dreamed she would be the only one to do it. She feels her whole body go hot at the memory of Viâs confession âI never let anyone do that before.
âOnly mine,â Caitlyn mutters, kissing Vi again possessively. She crushes their lips together, sweeps her tongue into Viâs mouth, pressing into her with enough force to make her sink even further back into the pillows, only letting up when her lungs begin to burn from lack of air. Viâs hands are around the back of her neck, thumbs rubbing soothingly up and down. âIâm the only one who gets to have you like this.â
Thereâs a flash of something in Viâs eyes â amusement, maybe, judging by the little quirk of her lips. That tiny little smirk she gets sometimes, when she thinks Caitlynâs being silly.
âYeah, Cupcake,â Vi breathes and then leans up. Her kiss is languid, sensual, slow â tongue searching up past Caitlynâs lips, licking into her mouth, running along the sharp edges of Caitlynâs teeth. She doesnât fully break the kiss, simply slants her neck a little so they can both breathe through the gaps between their lips. âAll yours. Only yours.â
Thereâs heat behind Caitlynâs eyes, suddenly. And pressure. With a sense of shock that, embarrassingly, puts an inelegant stutter into Caitlynâs rhythm between Viâs legs, she realizes she wants to cry. Breaking from Viâs kiss, Caitlyn buries her face in the side of Viâs neck, kissing up to the space behind her ear. âI love you,â she whispers, voice breaking.
Itâs indelicate, she knows, saying those words for the first time in the middle of sex. She worries, distantly, that Vi might find it cheap, or insincere and her heart clenches with dread at the thought, but she suddenly hadnât been able to hold the words back. They simply spilled from her, a deluge from a heavy storm cloud finally burst.
Nuzzling Viâs ear, she tries to ignore the insistent tug she suddenly feels on the back of her hair. Viâs long fingers running through it, not really pulling, just feeling her. âCaitâŠâ
Caitlyn doesnât want Vi to feel like she has to say it back, like itâs expected, like she needs to or they wonât be even. She wants Vi to know that itâs the truth, a cold fact, and whether Vi loves her back or not, today or ever in the future, wonât change that. She wants Vi to know sheâs not asking for anything from her, sheâs only offering, only informing her that whatever she wants for the rest of her days, Caitlyn wants to provide for her.
But she doesnât know how to say that. Is convinced, in fact, that any attempt on her part to do so would turn this whole night into an awkward, overwrought mess.
So she pulls back and kisses Vi again, gentler than before, and asks, âCan you take another finger?â
i was able to get across so much that felt important to me about the dynamic here. it's very much a fic about caitlyn being SO desperate, so barely in control of herself and the ferocious depths of her own need. she's unraveling. she's dominating vi, she's fucking her into next week, but she's SO pathetic and desperate and weak in this scene.
vi has all the power. caitlyn's possessiveness is something she's indulging. caitlyn's intensity is something she's choosing to receive. vi's being fucked, but it's caitlyn who's totally overwhelmed, who gets caught up and blurts out a love confession through tears
and crucially - vi doesn't say it back. that's not something caitlyn's owed. even in that moment, caitlyn recognizes it and tries to reign herself in and she deflects with "can you take another finger?" and to me that's like - well, i think it's kind of funny tbh. but it's also caitlyn grounding herself back in her role, in vi's needs, and it's caitlyn using sex as a distraction from an emotional vulnerability she doesn't feel prepared to wrestle with
but yeah - caitlyn wrestling with how much she wants from vi vs how much she has the right to ask for. that's a big part of their dynamic i enjoy exploring, bc so much of it is connected to the thorny issue of power between them and i never, ever stop thinking that's hot and compelling
you should tell us the last 5 songs on your spotify wrapped
96. Blood Red Summer by Coheed and Cambria - WHOA-OH WHOA-OH OOOH-OH-OH (we don't have to talk about it.)
97. Tears on Lambo Leather by the Callous Daoboys - WHEN I ADD TRACKS ON ROADKILL I'M NO BETTER THAN THE FIRST TREAD / AND WHEN I'M CALLED TO BE THE BETTER MAN / I COULDN'T BE MORE ERECT (this song goes so fucking hard
98. Might by Archers of Loaf - GOT SO BORED WITH THE RADIO / BORED WITH THE VIDEO / GOTTA MAKE UP MY LIFE JUST TO LET HER KNOW (Icky Mettle fucks hard, everyone should go listen to seminal 90s indie rock album Icky Mettle by Archers of Loaf rn)
99. Hospital by The Used - COULD YOU LOOK THEM IN THE FACE? COULD YOU LOOK ME IN THE FACE? THREE CHEERS YOU FOOLED THEM ALL / C'MON HIP-HIP-HOORAY (the coolest song the Used has ever written is here underneath the parts of the song that are actively annoying. Also i don't care about MCR tbh but all the songs Bert wrote about the Gerard Way breakup are so fucking funny to me)
100. Well, Whatever It Was by Joyce Manor - HAD THE WORST DAY EVER SO FAR / GOT RUN OVER BY MY DREAM CAR / SPENT FOREVER IN THE ER / SLOWLY GOING INSANE (I'm actually very stoked for the new JM. Tbh the singles kind of give Million Dollars to Kill Me vibes but for whatever reason i don't mind it now. Also lowkey wish this had been All My Friends are So Depressed instead bc "Key lime pie and Frampton live / wish that i would fuckin die" is objectively way funnier to quote)
