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Z 21 MDNI18+

[woman-pleaser]

✨Intro Post✨

SFW/NSFW BLOG

Z,21 years old,📍Tx

Minors DNI

[tr4ppvenusflies]

i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out. i wanna eat you out.

[frenchvelvetkisses]

If we’re making out and you start making those little needy please sounds into my mouth... congratulations, I’m going to ruin your life for the next three hours. I hope you didn't have plans.

[woman-pleaser]

makin progress in the gym😛

[deletingthisaccsoon]

Femme who claws at my muscles and tells me how strong I am. Femme who watches me as I do things for her just so she can watch my arms flex. Femme who watches me work out because she thinks it’s hot. Femme who lets me pick her up and carry her. Femme who loves how strong I am just for her.

[woman-pleaser]

late night gym sesh😩

[fragile-things-archive]

hugging until we smell like each other. that's it. that's the whole point.

[saffisme]

you’re the kind I wanna fuck into the mattress, then hold tight after, kissing the sweat from your skin, whispering how proud of you I am for taking me so well until we drift off tangled in each other. the kind I wake up still craving, reaching for your warmth before my eyes even open, stealing lazy kisses in the morning light, my hands memorizing your body all over again as if I hadn’t already traced every inch just hours before

[katskisses]

TWIST, TWIST .ᐟ ─────

MANON BANNERMAN ☆

⤷ slightly toxic!manon bannerman x 7th member!fem!reader

❝ twist! your body, twist, twist

your body, body, twist ❞

˚࿔ lara gets sick and you have to replace her part for a show taking place in a few hours. the part is intimate, it's hot, and it's full of touching. you get picked to be her partner, except you and manon have never gotten along, an ongoing thing happening between you two. you swore you'd never like her, well... you tried

♪ just smut ◞ manon is like slightly toxic.. not even ◞ spitting like really briefly ◞ mirrors ◞ enemies to lovers ◞ tension ◞ probably more ◞ not proofread | MDNI

A/N || just to put something out + a request kinda? kisses, brooklynn.

the flickering fluorescent lights whirred overhead the small dance studio— the private one that you all practically lived in. 

mirrors lined one wall, music pulsing faintly as you stepped closer, the soft beats familiar to your ears. 

you didn’t want to step in, especially since it was with manon— laid back, a little too cocky, irritatingly irresistible.

manon tracked your every move with quiet scrutiny that made your heart beat a little faster

manon stretched, not realizing you’d arrived, lithe body sporting a tight white tank top and an even tighter pair of high waisted shorts. 

your sports bra and tights weren’t any better, leaving little to the imagination. 

you two had been in the same group for months— sparks flying the wrong way every since you debuted. 

your sharp wit doing anything but mixing with her confidence, every space you shared turning into one of insulting remarks and eye rolls that everyone else caught onto. 

“you’re late.” her voice sharp, but controlled

you forced a smile, “right,” your hands tossed the duffel into the corner. you were so getting lara back. 

the girl had caught some stomach bug pretty badly and you had to fill in for her during tonight’s show— of course you knew the part but to actually try it out with manon? jesus, you wanted to pull your hair out

“follow my lead and we’ll be finished with this faster”

“your lead?” your arms crossed over your chest, unamused. 

the mirrors lining the walls reflected every ounce of the tension, “last time i checked, this was a duet. you don’t get to call the shots and act like it’s some solo show.”

“follow my lead.” manon repeated, not having it. 

her hands hovered just above yours, adjusting your shoulders which had been in the right position before— she just wanted to get in your head.. and under your skin.

the correction was far too intimate to be casual, the gentle touch filled with something more.

“oh i can follow. you don’t need to hover, manon.” 

the smirk on manon’s face spoke for her — i'm not hovering, baby, i'm controlling. 

“then stop tensing up, we need chemistry not whatever this is.”

the song’s beat finally hit, you followed manon’s lead smoothly— twist, twist, dip, grind— every step mirrored, every twist of your hips in sync with hers.

your back brushed against manon as you spun, earning a soft breath from her lips, something creeping along her skin that was getting harder to hide. 

“not like that,” manon gripped onto your arm, “my rhythm, me. follow me,”

“i am following!” you snapped, annoyed at her corrections as if you all hadn’t learned it for purposes like this.

“i know this choreo as much as you do manon, we’re only here to actually do it together, knock it off.”

her breath caught as your bodies nearly touched, the music feeling louder now, manon’s hands gripping onto your wrist before letting go, “try harder,”

you slightly stumbled after she let go, missing a step before feeling her hands steady your waist, “careful.” 

you moved along with her— twist, twist, dip, grind— inhaling sharply as you felt her fingertips brush over your stomach. 

you caught her eyes, breath heavy, “focus” she muttered, though she was a hypocrite. 

there was a weight in the air now, lines blurring between frustration and something.. different. 

every move, every shift, every beat, made it harder to focus— head caught up in all these racing thoughts

the music was coming to an end, both of your bodies aligning perfectly as you both moved to the floor together, no snarky comments this time.

now it was breathless and quiet and— fuck.

just twist.

“more,” manon let out, earning a scoff from you.

“more?” 

manon sank to her knees, “loosen up,” she clarified, eyes never leaving from your body. 

“it’s supposed to be intimate, remember?”

“intimate? rich coming from you, you keep grabbing onto me like i’ll run away, chill out”

you got on all fours beside her, twisting your torso into a graceful curve. 

your back faced manon’s front, your hips moving back teasingly, in a way that brought your lower back— and ass— right by manon’s front.

the woman froze, chest heaving. 

manon’s hand found the small of your back, keeping you there, “arch your back a little more— yea, there you go,”

your hands brushed against the floor, eyes locking with manon’s in the mirror— neither of you looking away.

the choreo was meant to build tension but right now it felt all too real, way too real. 

you bit onto your bottom lip, whisper coming in provocative but oh so soft, “is this enough twist for you?”

manon’s knee slid in between your legs, “mm.. i think you can push just a little more, what do you think?”

you shut your eyes, rocking back as heat pooled down low.

“go on, move with it, twist,”

“easy for you to say.. besides this isn’t apart of the choero, i’m not grinding on your knee in front of thousands..”

manon let out a soft chuckle, “but you like it, right? the way it presses up against you just right”

her hand moved up, before wrapping around your front— hand dangerously close to the sports bra you wore. “cocky much? don’t get distracted now.”

manon's knee nudged up higher, rubbing directly against your cunt through the thin material of your leggings. 

you stifled a gasp but manon caught it, “look at the mirror.” she paused, eyes locking, “see how good we fit?”

you decided to push back harder, grinding on her purposely now, “you think so? prove it,”

and manon didn’t hesitate, no, she pulled you right onto her lap, crashing her lips onto yours, messily.

tongues tangled against each other, teeth tugging bottom lips, nothing sweet and soft— all of it just passionate and raw. 

her face tilted slightly, deepening the kiss, hands on your chin, puling down, “open”

your lips parted, manon spat into your mouth, “swallow,”

your eyes fluttered shut, the kiss turning from intense to ferocious “that was hot,” you uttered out between kisses, “didn’t think you’d go there…” you trailed off, a whine leaving your lips. 

“didn’t think you’d be so into it,” she teased, smirking against you before letting her free hand slip up under your bra— thumb circling your nipple before lightly pinching, just for fun.

you rolled your eyes playfully, how did you go from hating someone to wanting them so badly?

you continued to straddle her thigh, rocking your hips desperately— leggings growing damp while the friction drove you both insane.

“harder,” you pleaded, to which manon quickly obliged

her knee pressed up harder to meet every roll of your hips

she felt herself throb, “you’re soaked through,” she pointed out, voice laced with desire.

you couldn’t respond, mind too hazy to think.

manon flipped you around, easing you right back onto the floor of the studio, mirrors capturing everything— the heat, the breathing, the want.

“no smart comment?” she asked, the question not one she wanted you to answer.

her hands grabbed the waistband of your tights, pulling them down with a tug— no panties, just you, bare and glistening. 

you held back your laughter, “shut up, you talk too much” you whispered, hips lifting eagerly. 

manon leaned down, kissing your inner thighs as she left behind a few soft bites 

“you love my talk” 

her mouth was on you now— tongue flat and licking wide strokes over your clit, before taking it into her mouth and sucking lightly.

her tongue moved skillfully, sliding inside right after.

you shut your eyes, “fuck.”

manon stopped, “eyes on the mirror, watch me or i stop,”

your eyes shot to the mirror, manon's head between your legs as she continued, tongue fucking in and out— flicking every so often to drive you over the edge

“manon, god, don’t stop… i’m— your mouth, fuck.”

you felt manon hum against you, sending shocks through you.

her fingers moved to work alongside her tongue, curling deep inside with her tongue still flicking relentlessly. 

you let out ragged breaths, hands touching the floor

“finish for me,” manon ordered, pressing a kiss to your clit

that was all it took to push you over, back arching as a soft cry echoed from you, coming undone all over her tongue and fingers, thighs trembling and mind foggy.

out of breath, you pulled manon back up for another kiss, tasting yourself on her tongue. 

“your turn,” you whispered against your lips, but manon only shook her head

“not yet.. i want you to ride my face”

you got on top of her, straddling her face now, knees on the cold floor. 

in the mirror it looked so obscene, your bottom lip tucking under your teeth.

manon’s hands gripped your ass, pulling you down, “use me”

your hands gripped onto her hips from behind, giving you support as you sank down on her mouth and began to grind, rolling your hips slow at first— and then faster, feeling manon suck at you greedily. 

her tongue probed at your cunt while her hands began to guide your hips to move against her harder. 

“like that?” you asked, gasping out, “tell me i’m doing it right..”

“you’re doing perfect,” she whispered between licks, her voice slightly muffled. “you’re so wet— keep going”

you felt it build up again— overstimulation making you grind faster

you finished with your hands gripping manon’s thighs from behind, listening to her satisfied groan. 

you both pant softly, you moving off her— room filled with heat, need, and something hot.

“truce?” you asked, voice low and finger tracing manon’s jaw

“for now,” she laughed under her breath, pulling you close

hours later the show started, lights blazing onto you both.

you two owned the stage during your little duet, drawing roars from the crowd as you kept twisting and grinding

except now it was real, eyes locking, bodies remembering every touch that was given hours prior. 

you dropped to the floor together, singing in sync— bodies aligned perfectly once again

you both laughed once the music faded, getting up and going backstage.

“let’s start over?”

“i’ll think about it, round two after?”

you rolled your eyes, “twist my arm.”

[prettysheepy]

Need somebody to be mean to me. How else am I supposed to cum?

[vic-in]

Need a bratty femme who gets jealous easy and isn’t scared to remind me she's mine. Begging me to pin her down and force my strap deep into her

[hotmusclebabe]

come on home

sevika x reader, 3k words

summary: sevika takes care of the undercity, and you take care of her. every morning, she starts her day right: she receives a goodbye kiss from you. however, when you leave in a hurry and forget her kiss, her entire day at work seems to be ruined. good thing you're there to fix it when she comes home.

tags: butch4butch, butch!reader x sevika, submissive sevika, sevika is a little dramatic, fingering, strap usage, sevika receiving strap, slight overstimulation, cunnilingus, comfort/cuddling after sex

notes: a few of you requested butch/masc reader with sevika! i promise i didn't forget about my beautiful butches and mascs <3 i'll likely start working on another butch! reader fic after i finish the cowboy multichap (one thing at a time..) as always, this was approved and actually requested by the butch ever, @massiveragingdyke . hope you guys enjoy this as much as she did!!

˚₊‧✩☆˚‧༻☆༺‧˚☆✩‧₊˚

every day, you arrived home a little earlier than sevika did. that being said, you left earlier for work in the morning then she did, too. without fail, every morning, you pressed a kiss to her temple before you headed out the door. your mornings had a specific system; get ready, make breakfast, kiss your girlfriend goodbye.

despite working a different job than sevika, you knew that it could be stressful for her sometimes. when you met sevika, she was a somewhat different person than she is now. before, it was bars, whiskey for breakfast, and two hours of sleep a night. she never took care of herself.

with you, though? if she were too tired to get out of bed, you'd brush her teeth for her. sevika does so much for the undercity, yet there's not a single person in this city that would return the favor.

when you'd started going out with her, she found herself absolutely stunned at just how much you cared for her, even upon your first date. she'd never had someone fight with her to hold the door open, nor did she ever have anyone offer to foot the bill. however, the part that entralled sevika the most was that before you'd left, you pressed a kiss to her forehead. was it something groundbreaking? no. but it was foreign, and sevika enjoyed the feeling, especially when it was coming from you.

two years in, you're living together, and now you kiss sevika goodbye before you head out for work.

except for today.

alarm deciding to fuck you over, it didn't go off until thirty minutes after you were supposed to wake up, putting you on a time crunch. although you had time to make sevika a low-effort breakfast, you had to run out the door without a word of goodbye to her.

this seemed to have cursed sevika's day. just as you had, she woke up late as well. except instead of thirty minutes, it'd been an hour, and she had no time to eat breakfast anyhow. already in an irritated mood due to her lack of kisses and lack of breakfast, sevika had arrived to work late. as always, silco ran her around like he always does, and jinx caused a shit ton of trouble that sevika had to clean up after.

every day was the same shit, yet more exhausting.

compared to sevika, your job wasn't nearly as punitive. sure, it had some insignificant setbacks, and people could be annoying, but it wasn't as much of an issue for you as it was for sevika. your work teetered more on labor; working under silco, you run around to his many "establishments" and make sure that his equipment is up and functioning.

when you return home, you find that the breakfast you'd made for sevika had been on the table untouched. you can't be that bad of a cook. frowning, you throw it away, coming to the conclusion that sevika just wasn't that hungry. setting your shoes next to the door, you head straight for the shower, feeling grimey after a long day of work.

after you've gotten yourself ready for bed, you sit against the headboard, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a baggy black t-shirt. sevika is going to be back soon. while you wait for her, your eyes are glued to the TV, the channel set to some reality show.

although you hear the front door open, you don't move towards the source. you figure sevika is bound to enter the bedroom anyhow. you're too comfortable in your spot to move.

however, when sevika calls your name out, you're left slightly confused. sitting up, you shout back. "i'm in the bedroom," you tell her. "what is it?"

"come out here," she insists. shuffling out of bed, you drag yourself into the living room.

yawning, you greet her. "how was work?" you ask, in motion to kiss her cheek. however, she dodges it— physically ducks your kiss. "what the hell is up with that?" sevika grumbles something, and although you'd like to be annoyed by her avoidance of your affection, you can tell something's wrong. "hey. bad day at work?"

"you did this," she accuses.

"great start," you lean in to give her a kiss again, and this time, she doesn't dodge it. hand still on her jaw, you pull away and look at her face. "what happened?"

sevika sighs. "i need to get a shower. i'll tell you after." she had such a flair for dramatics. however, you don't stop her. she probably needs some time to herself.

"whatever you want, baby," you replied, pressing another kiss to her temple just in case. "i'll wait for you in the bedroom. you eat dinner?" sevika grumbles again, which seems to give you your answer. usually, she gets free food from jericho's, which you're assuming still happened but not in the way sevika would have wanted. you return to the bedroom, picking up where you left off on your reality show.

after a few minutes, the water clicks off, and sevika takes a few minutes before exiting the bathroom. she's practically matching you, wearing a pair of boxers and a black tank top. when she enters the bedroom, she sits down on the bed next to you, legs slipping under the covers.

and then she just stares at you.

a smirk tugs at the corner of your lips, but you don't allow yourself to smile just yet. "you gonna say something or are you just gonna stare at me like a little freak?"

"you're supposed to ask me," sevika grumbles in response.

"i don't need to ask you shit," you replied. "and you don't need to ask me anything, either. i've never stopped you from doing whatever you want." sevika mutters something along the lines of, jerk or, dickwad beneath her breath. however, quickly after, she tugs you down onto the bed slightly, laying her head on your chest. a loud, tired breath escapes her, and a larger inhale comes after as she breathes in your scent. you're a bad liar; you do need to ask her. not that this is in any aspect unwelcomed, its unusual for sevika to be this affectionate. her day must've gone terrible. "you wanna tell me what happened now?"

for a moment, sevika doesn't respond. "woke up late," she finally tells you. "didn't get to have breakfast. went to work annoyed. silco was being a dick. jinx was being a monstrosity to all that is holy. had to fend some guys off dustin after he tried to lick them because even though hes a nutcase, silco needs him for shit." as sevika talks, your fingers gently stroke through her soft hair, which she seems to find comfort in. "and then jericho put entire fucking olives in my rice. said he was trying something new. told him he could try the back of my hand."

a quiet laugh escapes you. "maybe don't threaten the man making you food," you tell her. "thought you said it was my fault your day was fucked up. care to elaborate on that?"

a deep sigh escapes sevika's lips. "you didn't kiss me goodbye this morning before you left for work. you cursed me or something."

"that's it?" you question. "sevika, i was running late. i didn't have time. plus, you were dead asleep. snoring, may i add."

"i don't snore," sevika says defensively. "but i didn't feel it, and that ruined my day."

although her presentation of her feelings are dramatic, you know that she must be absolutely exhausted. "i'm sure," you tell her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "i won't forget tomorrow, promise."

adjusting herself on your chest, you feel her arm slip beneath you. "it wasn't you," sevika mutters. "wasn't being that serious. work's just been exhausting. i can't deal with silco and his shit anymore." your arms wrap sevika's shoulders completely, the palm of your hand cradling her head. "after every shitty thing that happened today at work, all i could think about was coming home to you. somehow, you always have some goddamned solution." her breath hitches. "i missed you, so much. even if it was just for a few hours." she lifts her head, craning her neck so she can press her lips against yours. she shifts again, moving so that she's now straddling your thigh. "missed you," sevika repeats as she breaks away to catch her breath. just as quickly as she'd broken away, she returns to desperately kissing you again. its as if she's hungry for it. hands holding both sides of her jaw, you slow her down.

begrudgingly, she seems to follow your pace and rhythm, though its clear she wants more. hands coming up to her waist, you gently pull her down onto your thigh, rubbing her against your taut muscle. her breaths come out shaky and staggered as she fights the urge to chase more of you. "please," she mutters quietly. "don't make me beg. need you right now."

"i know, baby," you mutter, and she lets out a sigh that's clearly laced with frustration. "i know what you need. just let me take care of you." pressing her forehead to yours, her eyebrows clench shut as she rolls her hips against your thighs. "you're gonna have to take these off, sev." your thumb gently tugs at the waistband of her boxers, which she wastes no time in taking off. she sits up, tossing the boxers onto the floor without a care in the world. letting out a quiet laugh, you sit up, opening up the nightstand. with practiced ease, you slip the harness and the attachment on like you've done it a million times before. "how do you want it?"

"huh?" sevika looks at you.

"you wanna be on top of me? or—"

"no," sevika interrupts you immediately. "want you on top."

her insistence surprises you a little, but you absolutely will not deny her. "any reason why?" you ask as you apply lube to the end of the strap. noticing sevika's expression, you gently apply some lube to her slit, rubbing circles around her bundle of nerves.

"like feeling your body weight on top of me," she admits.

pressing a kiss to her neck, you comply. "whatever you want, sevika," you tell her, and she pulls you back towards her again. her mouth is on yours as if she's desperate, as if she hasn't seen you in months. but that can't be, since the last time you had sex was last night. today is different, though. today is needier, more charged. hand slipping between the two of you, you continue to circle sevika's clit, allowing your middle and index fingers to pump in and out of her. quiet, staggered breaths escape her, and she whimpers quietly.

tugging your hand away, you allow the strap to penetrate her weeping folds, and she lets out a quiet moan. your hand comes up to one of her breasts, rolling her areola through her black tank top. "you're so gorgeous," you murmur. "i'm so lucky to have you, sevika." slowly, your hips roll against hers, setting a slow pace to begin with. your lips meet her cheeks. "so pretty," you whisper, your lips meeting her jaw. "you work so hard for me. for us," her arms wrap your neck, fingers tangling into your hair. gradually, your thrusts speed up, as well as deepening. its not long before sevika is writhing beneath you; you knew just how to make a mess out of her.

the room is filled with the sound of sevika's moans, both her arms holding onto you tightly. "shit," a cry interrupts her words. "just like that. mmn, right there…" the noises she makes are raw and vulnerable. she didn't just need the sex, she needed you— she needed to feel you there. "please, need more—"

"you don't have to beg, sevika," you murmur, though it'd be lying if you said the way she was begging wasn't turning you on. as you rut against her, you feel the base of the strap grinding against your own clit.

forehead pressing into the pillow beside sevika's head, your thrusts become nearly messy and erractic, but this only seems to fuel sevika more. "fuck, that—" she whimpers in your ear, her nails and her mech hand digging into your back. that was bound to scar, but you couldn't be more proud of that. "just like that," she begs, her own hips lifting from the bed to chase the friction she was so desperately needing. hands gently tugging at her thighs, her legs wrap your waist, your hips flush against hers as you push inward for each thrust. sevika's grip tightens and you feel her thighs begin to tremble. her moans have devolved to shaky breaths and quiet, needy whimpers. "please, please, i nee…" she can hardly finish her own sentences. you don't want her to anyhow. you muffle her words as you press your lips to hers, your fingers drawing circles to her clit as you continue rolling your hips against hers. her entire body seems to shake, and her hips squirm as she climaxes. she cries your name out, her chest heaving as she tries to recollect her breath. your hips stutter, and you find yourself reaching your own climax near the same interval, just a little later then sevika.

she can take just the tiniest bit more, you decide, rutting your hips against hers as you near your own climax. "just a little more, baby," you assure her, and the moan she releases is guttural as you overstimulate her. her nails drag down your back, which only turns you on more; your eyes clench shut as your abdomen tightens, and your release is soaking through your boxers. whoops. probably should've taken those off before you put the strap on.

when you open your eyes again, sevika is out of breath, her thighs and hands shaking. "shit," you mutter, taking gentle care when you pull out of her. "couldn't have been that good."

though the comment annoys her, sevika is far, far too fucked out to make a jab back. feeling a little light-headed, you decide to just leave the strap on the nightstand. taking a deep breath, you find your footing on the ground, heading into the bathroom to grab a clean rag. you soak it in some water before you return to sevika, who's sitting up in bed now. "you okay?"

"fine," she grumbles, wiping her face. you crane your neck downward to press a kiss right below her eye, which she accepts.

sighing, you sit on the bed. "gotta clean you up," you tell sevika. "unless you want me to lick you clean. which i'm not opposed to. at all."

sevika leans her head against the headboard, still sitting up. without hesitation, she allows her thighs to drift apart. "you know i'm not going to turn that down."

"you know i'm not going to just clean you up," you smirk up at her. usually, she'd meet you back with a furrowed brow. instead, she cards her fingers through your hair gently and looks down at you with a lovestruck expression. "you're sure you can handle another one?" nodding, sevika leans back a little more, preparing herself.

"after the day i've had," sevika mumbles. "fuck, i deserve this."

letting out a quiet laugh, you press kisses along her inner thigh, not leaving any area untouched. her hand is resting on your head, and when you take her clit into your mouth, it tightens. a sharp exhale escapes her, and you know she's already sensitive from the orgasm she'd barely had time to come down from.

sucking lightly, you use your middle and index finger to pump in and out of her. quiet breaths escape her once again, and quickly, her thighs tighten around your head. removing your fingers, you allow your arms to wrap sevika's thighs; your tongue thrusts into sevika's slit, your nose stimulating her sensitive nerves. "you're too good to me," sevika whines. "mmf, fuck.. righ— right there—" her hips grind against your mouth, bucking up towards the stimulation. your vision begins to go a little fuzzy as her thighs tighten further, but you never stop lapping at her pussy, not for a moment. a choked cry escapes her as she finally orgasms right on your tongue, and you swallow every last drop of her.

careful not to overstimulate her once more, you gently lick the area free of any cum. can't let that go to waste. once you're mostly sure you got all of it, you sit up, grabbing the wash cloth from the nightstand and wiping her clean. once you finish, you head into the bathroom and toss your own boxers into the hamper of dirty laundry. you ensure you're clean before you head back into your room, where sevika is laying nearly half dead on the matress. "you okay?" you prod gently, slipping into bed beside her.

"uh huh," she mutters. rolling over, her head is on your chest once again. you press a kiss to her cheek, holding her close to you. "tired."

"would be concerned if you weren't," you remark. "you did so good for me, baby," you whisper in her ear, ensuring that you shower her with affection.

lightheartedly, sevika scoffs, though she's leaning into your touch. "leave the sweet-talking for when we're having sex, yeah?"

"no," you reply simply, yawning quietly. "was serious about what i was saying. you work hard for us, sevika. i'm proud of you, i really am." feeling sevika's cheek gently rub against your chest, you tug the blanket over both of you. she's come a long way from who she was before. "goodnight, sevika. i love you."

"love you too," she whispers, fully entrusting herself in you. "goodnight." a deep, relaxed sigh escapes her lips as she settles against you. "don't forget my kiss tomorrow."

"i won't." you promise.

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taglist: thank you all for your continued support!

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[chicc12]

Flying With You.

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Request: here :)

Summary: When flying terrifies you, your members are there to guide, comfort, and support you every step of the way. Through laughter, gentle touches, and unwavering care, you discover that with them by your side, no fear is too big to face.

Pairings: Katseye x 7th member

Warning(s): anxiety / panic attacks / mild stress / mentions of claustrophobia / fear of enclosed spaces / fluff / comfort / emotional support

A/N: i have nothing to say, so... hi :D

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You grew up in a small suburban town in Ohio — the kind of place where every house looked slightly the same and summer heat made the pavement shimmer.

Your street was quiet, lined with maple trees and the occasional rusty basketball hoop leaning toward the road like it was tired of standing.

You were nine when it happened.

Old enough to remember every detail. Young enough that adults brushed it off as 'kids being kids.'

It was July, thick and humid, the kind of hot day where stepping outside felt like stepping into someone’s breath. You’d been playing at your neighbour’s house, the Millers, because they had a massive backyard and three boys your age who always had some chaotic idea in mind.

That day, the game was 'jailbreak.' One kid hid, and the others had to 'capture' them.

Except instead of tagging, they used props — old cardboard tubes, plastic swords, and… the worst option of all: The storage trunk in the garage.

It was an old thing. Big, wooden, heavy lid. The kind adults use to store holiday decorations and things they never get around to throwing out.

You’d seen it a hundred times and never thought twice about it.

You didn’t think twice when the Miller boys dared you to hide inside it, either — you were nine, competitive, and determined not to be the 'scaredy-cat youngest kid' again.

So you climbed in.

At first, it wasn’t too bad. It smelled like cedar and dust and old fabric softener sheets. You curled your knees to your chest and tried not to giggle.

Then — slam.

The lid came down. Hard.

You heard the latch hook. Not a full lock, but enough to catch. Enough to make it difficult to open from the inside.

The darkness swallowed you instantly.

You tried to laugh. You tried to pretend it was still fun.

But the air was too still. Too warm. Too close.

Something shifted inside you — like your lungs were suddenly two sizes too big for your chest.

You knocked first. A little tap. 'Hey… guys? That’s enough. Let me out.'

They didn’t hear you. They were already running around the garage, yelling about the next round.

You knocked harder. Then you hit the lid. Then you pushed your hands against the wood until your palms hurt.

'Guys—HEY. Open it!'

Still nothing.

The heat inside the trunk intensified, wrapping around you like a heavy blanket you couldn’t kick off. Your breathing went sharp, shallow — like your body forgot how to do it correctly.

You started shaking. You didn’t understand why. You just knew something was wrong.

Your chest tightened painfully. Your throat felt like it was closing. Your heartbeat thudded so fast you could feel it in your fingertips.

Your voice cracked when you screamed, 'LET ME OUT! PLEASE!'

Everything after that blurred — a loud crash as you kicked, the scrape of the trunk shifting on the concrete floor, and then finally, blessedly: A pair of hands.

The lid flew open and sunlight poured in, blinding you. You gulped air so fast it made you dizzy.

Mrs. Miller stood over you, eyes wide, face pale. 'Oh my god—sweetheart, are you okay?'

You burst into tears before you could answer, lungs still fighting for full breaths. She lifted you out gently, like you were glass, and held you against her chest while she yelled at her sons.

You don’t remember the scolding. You don’t remember the walk home.

But you remember sitting on your own bed afterward, a cold washcloth on your neck, your mom brushing your hair out of your face while you shook uncontrollably, unable to explain why you still felt trapped even though you were free.

That feeling never left.

But from that day on small rooms made your palms sweat. Closing elevator doors made you dizzy. Crowds pressing in made your lungs tighten.

And airplanes? Airplanes became your personal nightmare.

Because they were all the things you feared rolled into one. Enclosed space, nowhere to escape. No control.

No lid you could lift from the inside.

---

By the time you debuted with Katseye, you honestly believed you’d outrun the worst parts of your claustrophobia.

You could handle stages. You could handle crowds. You could handle the pressure of cameras and interviews and training rooms with no windows.

You were fine. That’s what you kept telling yourself.

It was easy to believe it, too — because you loved performing. The open stage, the lights above you, the roar of the crowd. There was so much space. You felt free up there.

So you convinced yourself your childhood fear wouldn’t follow you into your dream. But then came the first major international schedule after debuting, the Philippines.

Missy’s voice was still ringing in your head hours later, playful yet firm, 'Everyone, pack lightly and get some rest. We leave tomorrow. Flight’s at 8 A.M. sharp!'

Flight.

That word alone made your stomach drop a few inches.

You tried to smile and wave like everything was normal as the meeting ended, but the anxiety had already tightened like a cold knot beneath your ribs.

Back in your dorm room, you stared at your open suitcase on the bed. Clothes were scattered across the blanket — outfits you’d carefully chosen, rolled up neatly, then immediately unrolled again because your hands were too shaky to do anything right.

You sat down on the edge of the mattress, fingers gripping the comforter as if it could ground you.

It’s fine. It’s just a plane. People do it every day. It’s safe. It’s normal. It’s—

Your breath stuttered because your mind kept looping back to the same thought, 'How am I supposed to get on a plane?'

You sighed and pressed your palm to your forehead, pacing slowly between the bed and your closet. It felt ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, that you could stand on a stage in front of thousands of people and feel free, yet the simple idea of stepping onto an airplane made your throat tighten.

You thought you’d outgrown this. Or at least learned to manage it.

But apparently not.

Your fear hadn’t stopped your dream before. You had literally crossed half the country to get where you were.

You remembered that drive so clearly…

Your mom gripping the steering wheel of the old SUV, cooler full of snacks in the back, the GPS chirping every few hours as she pushed through state after state. You’d refused to fly to L.A. for Dream Academy, no matter how many adults insisted it would be 'easier' or 'faster.'

So she drove you.

Ohio → Indiana → Illinois → Missouri → Oklahoma → Texas → New Mexico → Arizona → California.

Nine states in total — eight of them just to get you out there.

Thirty something hours of asphalt, fast food wrappers, and sleepy gas station stops. It had been exhausting, intense, and way too long…

But it had been safe. You could breathe. You could see the sky whenever you needed to. You were in control.

That comfort felt like a lifetime away now.

You looked at your half packed suitcase, heart thudding.

The Philippines. Your first real long-haul flight. No escape, no pulling over, no rolling down a window when you needed air.

You swallowed hard.

You can do this, you told yourself. You have to do this. You’re part of Katseye now. This is your job. This is your dream.

But when you reached for another stack of shirts, your hands shook—not dramatically, not enough for someone else to notice, but enough that you curled your fingers to hide it.

Soon enough, you moved to sit on your bed, hugging your knees to your chest for a moment, breathing slowly, staring out the window at the city lights. Everything felt too close and too fast and too inevitable.

Your door cracked open.

A familiar voice chimed in — soft, tired, and sweet, 'Hey, what are you doing in here all quiet?'

Megan’s head peeked in first, hair in a messy bun, hoodie sleeves covering most of her hands. Lara and Manon were visible in the hallway too, whisper fighting over whose turn it was to use the washing machine.

You forced a small smile. 'Just packing.'

Megan padded in, climbing onto your bed like she owned it. She always did that — gravitated toward you in the most casual, affectionate way.

'You okay?' She asked, tilting her head.

You opened your mouth to lie. You almost said the usual 'just tired,' but your voice came out different — thinner, smaller, 'I… don’t fly well.'

Megan’s eyes softened instantly. Not pity — never pity. Just understanding.

She reached for your hand, squeezing gently. 'Then we’ll figure it out together, okay? You’re not doing this alone.'

Those words were enough to make the pressure in your chest loosen — even if only a fraction. Then Daniela barged in, arms loaded with snacks for the trip.

'Did someone say we’re packing? Because I’m basically bringing half a convenience store— wait, why are you crying?'

You weren’t crying, but your eyes were shinier than usual. Daniela immediately dropped her snacks and kneeled at your feet, hugging your legs like a koala.

Manon peeked in next. 'What’s happening? Is she dying? Are we dying? Is the Philippines cancelled?'

'No one is dying!' Lara scolded from the hallway. 'We haven’t even left yet.'

Yoonchae eventually wandered in too, suspiciously holding a stuffed animal she insisted she was 'just borrowing.' Within minutes, your room was full — the whole group sitting on your floor, bed, leaning against the dresser, all of them talking about the flight as if they were planning a mission.

No teasing. No judgement. Just warmth. Just support.

Just six girls who loved you enough to close in around you without making you feel trapped. For the first time that night, you felt like maybe you could do this.

Even if you were terrified. Even if your chest tightened every time you pictured the inside of a plane.

You weren’t doing it alone. And that made all the difference.

---

The van ride to the airport should’ve felt exciting. Your first international schedule as a full group. A huge milestone. Something all of you had been buzzing about all morning.

But your seat by the window felt smaller than usual. Too tight. Too still.

You stared out at the passing highways of LA — the only part of this whole journey that made sense — while your stomach churned.

You didn’t mean to be quiet. Didn’t mean to worry anyone.

But Sophia noticed. Sophia always noticed. She shifted in her seat beside you, nudging her knee against yours.

'Hey,' she whispered softly, low enough that the others wouldn’t overhear. 'You’re awfully quiet today. You feeling okay?'

You forced a smile, one that probably looked more like a wince.

'Yeah, just tired.' You lied.

Sophia didn’t call you out, but her eyes were too gentle for you to fool her. She reached over and squeezed your hand anyway, leaving her fingers over yours just long enough to anchor you before turning back to join Megan and Manon’s argument about who would get the window seats on the plane.

You tried to laugh. Tried to join in. Tried to feel normal. But the closer the van got to the airport, the harder it was to breathe.

By the time the building came into view — glass and metal and crowds of people pouring in and out like a single living organism — your pulse spiked.

Your palms grew damp. Your throat tightened. And the moment you stepped inside the automatic doors, it hit you full-force.

The noise. The crowds. The ceilings that felt way lower than they were. The knowledge, sharp and immediate, that soon you’d be trapped in a metal tube for hours.

You followed the girls toward the check-in counters, but your legs felt wrong. Loose. Floaty. Like your body was there, but you weren’t.

Missy handed out passports, speaking calmly and efficiently like she always did, but her voice sounded far away. Muffled.

You handed your suitcase over to the airline worker and watched it slide away on the conveyor belt, disappearing through black rubber flaps.

And something about that moment, handing over the last bit of control you thought you had, snapped the thin thread you’d been balancing on.

Your vision blurred around the edges. Your chest tightened so hard you couldn’t inhale properly. You felt the room closing in even though you were in an open terminal.

You took one step back. Then another.

Megan noticed first. 'Hey—hey, Y/N, what’s wrong?' She asked gently, stepping toward you with both hands out.

You tried to answer but nothing came out.

Daniela’s eyes widened instantly. 'She’s panicking—guys—'

Suddenly the whole group was around you.

Manon steadied your shoulders. Lara moved behind you so no one in the crowd bumped you. Sophia was already cupping your face, grounding you with her touch. Yoonchae grabbed your hand without hesitation, squeezing it firmly.

Missy stepped back but stayed close, giving the girls space, trusting them — trusting you — to handle it.

Your breaths came too fast, too shallow. Tears stung your eyes. The noise of the airport turned into a rushing, echoing roar you couldn’t escape.

'I— I can’t—' you choked out, clutching the front of your hoodie. 'I can’t... I can’t do this— the plane— no, I can’t breathe—'

You hated how scared you sounded. How small. But the girls didn’t flinch.

Sophia stroked your cheeks with her thumbs. 'Look at me. Look right at me. You’re okay, Y/N. Just focus on my face.'

Megan stepped closer, voice soft and steady. 'Deep breaths with me, okay? In through the nose… I’m right here. We all are.'

Lara rubbed small circles between your shoulder blades. 'You’re not alone. We’ll get through this together.'

Yoonchae pressed her forehead lightly against your arm. 'I got you. Just squeeze my hand, as hard as you want.'

Manon rubbed slow, comforting circles on your back, not saying much but showing you she's there.

Daniela leaned in on your other side, switching to Spanish without thinking — warm, comforting words even though you barely understood them. 'Despacito… I'm right here, corazón… estás segura.' ('Slowly… I’m right here, sweetheart… you’re safe.')

Each of them anchored you in a different way.

Different touch. Different tone. Different warmth.

And slowly — painfully slowly — your breathing began to even out.

The world came back into focus. The airport noise softened. The panic loosened its grip one inch at a time.

You swallowed hard, tears slipping silently down your face as you leaned into Sophia’s hands, then Megan’s shoulder, shaking with the aftermath.

'There you go,' Manon whispered softly, rubbing your arm. 'Just one breath at a time.'

No judgement. No frustration. Just steady, gentle support.

You let out a shaky exhale, finally able to speak. 'I’m sorry,' you murmured. 'I—I thought I was okay. I didn’t want to ruin anything.'

Lara shook her head instantly. 'Hey, no. Don’t ever apologise for being human.'

Megan nudged you lightly. 'We’ll face this together, okay? One step at a time. You don’t have to be brave alone.'

And for the first time since stepping foot in the airport… You believed her.

---

You sat in one of those hard plastic airport chairs, hands clenched tightly in your lap, leg bouncing restlessly even though you kept trying to make it stop. The check-in panic had faded—but it hadn’t vanished.

It clung to you in little echoes: a tightness in your ribs, a tremor in your hands, the constant pressure behind your eyes like tears were waiting for another chance.

While sat waiting to board the plane, the girls each comforted you in their own, personal way.

Megan notices your knee bouncing, your breath catching every so often, your eyes fixed on the floor instead of the gate. She shifts closer without a word, her thigh touching yours, and gently holds out her pinky.

You link yours with hers.

Her voice is hushed, warm, almost musical. 'Hey. Look at me for a sec.' She whispers.

You lift your head just enough.

'You’re doing everything right,' she says, brushing her thumb over your pinky. 'Just stay with me, yeah? I won’t let anything happen to you.'

You let your head fall onto her shoulder. She exhales softly, adjusting so you’re comfortable. Her free hand moves around your shoulders to your upper arm, rubbing slow, soothing circles that melt the tension out of your muscles.

Her breath is steady. Her presence feels like safety itself.

She keeps talking quietly — little reassurances, little reminders — until your pulse starts easing.

You’re heart rate may have lowered a little, but you're still stiff in your seat. Megan’s hand is still holding yours, her other rubbing circles into your shoulder.

Suddenly, you feel movement at your feet.

Manon kneels down in front of you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

'Okay,' she says seriously, slipping your shoes off, 'relaxed feet are the gateway to full-on zen. Trust me on this.'

You blink at her. '…wait…what?'

Megan glances down, eyebrows raised. Lara snorts. Daniela tilts her head like she’s trying to figure out if Manon’s actually joking. Yoonchae mutters something in Korean under her breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘madness’.

But Manon doesn’t waver. She takes your foot in her hands and begins to knead gently, her thumbs working precise circles into the arches. The tension melts instantly.

'Oh…' You breathe, your body softening in the chair. Your head drops slightly, leaning against Megan’s shoulder without thinking. Your fingers curl loosely around Megan’s hand.

Your legs feel like jelly. The tightness in your chest eases a little more.

Megan hums quietly, one hand stroking your hair, the other still rubbing your shoulder, and you just melt further into her warmth.

The rest of the girls are staring. Lara’s jaw is slack. Daniela’s hands are frozen mid-air. Yoonchae looks like she’s trying to process if this is an actual legitimate calming technique or if Manon has officially lost it.

'…she’s—she’s literally melting.' Lara whispers, voice half gasping, half laughing.

'I think it’s working.' Manon says calmly, continuing her kneading like nothing is unusual.

You sigh contentedly, eyes half closed, feeling lighter than you have all day. The panic still hums faintly beneath the surface, but Manon’s absurdly effective foot massage and Megan’s steady presence are slowly pushing it further back.

And for once… You think, maybe you can actually get through this flight.

It's not long until Lara notices you shrinking in on yourself again — your hands rubbing against your thighs, your breath too shallow. She doesn’t say anything at first. She just stands, unzips her white jacket, and gently drapes it around your shoulders.

It’s soft. Warm. And it smells unmistakably like her — strawberries and vanilla shampoo and something bright you can never name.

'You can borrow it.' She says casually, even though she never lets anyone borrow this jacket.

You open your mouth to thank her, but before you can, she slips into the seat beside you and curls herself against your side.

Her head presses onto your shoulder. Her arms wrap around your arm. She looks like she’s the one asking for affection — to anyone watching, it’s pure, clingy Lara.

But you can feel it. The steady weight. Her warmth. The way she squeezes your forearm every few seconds, like she’s trying to anchor you to the earth.

This is her way of giving comfort without making it obvious you need comfort.

'You’re okay,' she mumbles into your shoulder. 'Just keep breathing. I’ll squeeze you if you start hyperventilating.'

You snort, even in your panic, and she beams up at you like she’s accomplished something monumental.

Then she nuzzles your arm dramatically, whispering, 'Strawberry-scented emotional support, at your service.'

You’re trying to focus on your breathing, counting tiles on the airport floor, when movement catches your eye.

Daniela is looking around like she’s searching for something — squinting at signs, checking over people’s heads, bouncing on her toes like a detective trying to solve a case.

Then suddenly, her entire face lights up.

'Oh!' She gasps. 'Ohhh!'

Before anyone can ask what she’s discovered, she spins toward the group, finger raised dramatically. 'Stay here. Nobody move.'

And then she sprints off into the terminal.

Missy blinks. Megan lets out a 'Wait—what??'

Manon raises a hand half-heartedly like she might chase after her.

But Daniela is gone.

Ten minutes pass. You try to breathe through the rising panic, but your hands are shaking again, your chest tight.

Then—

'TA-DAAAAA!'

She comes racing back toward you, nearly slipping on the polished floor, holding a drink carrier over her head like it’s a trophy.

'For you,' she pants, stopping right in front of you with a proud, breathless grin. 'Your favourite. Exactly how you like it.'

You look down — and sure enough… It’s your order. The same thing she’s watched you get a hundred times but has never once ordered for herself.

Your throat tightens — not from fear this time, but from something warm pushing against the panic.

'You— you went to get this for me?' You ask, barely above a whisper.

Daniela nods, wiping sweat from her forehead dramatically. 'Six different coffee places in this terminal. I checked all of them. I would’ve fought someone if they were out of oat milk, by the way.'

Lara snorts. Sophia claps in disbelief. Manon hugs her from behind.

And for the first time since arriving at the airport, the crushing weight in your chest loosens.

You hold the cup with both hands — it’s warm, grounding — and say softly, 'Thank you, Dani. Really.'

She beams, leaning forward lightly against your knees. 'Anything for you, chica. If fear is gonna fight you today, I’m gonna fight it.'

And somehow, with that stupidly perfect cup of coffee warming your hands, breathing gets just a little easier.

You’re now fidgeting with the coffee cup in your hands, shoulders tense despite Megan’s and Manon’s careful attention. Sophia is humming quietly, keeping a soft anchor, and Lara is jacketless, leaning against Manon for warmth.

Meanwhile, Yoonchae has been rummaging in her bag for… well, an uncomfortably long time.

Daniela leans over the seat, brow furrowed. 'Yoonchae… what are you doing in there?' She asks, genuinely perplexed.

Yoonchae doesn’t answer. She hums under her breath, fingers digging deeper, and finally triumphantly pulls out a small snack haul.

A pack of your favourite chips and a stick of gum.

'Here,' she says softly, holding it out like it’s a peace offering to your nerves. 'For emergencies. And… well… for you.'

You can’t help but smile, the tension in your chest loosening just a little. 'Thanks, Yoonchae,' you mumble, taking the gum first. You pop it in your mouth, the familiar mint flavour grounding you after the lingering sweetness of Daniela’s coffee.

Lara, ever the opportunist, leans over and opens the chips. 'I mean, if she gets one, we all get one, right?'

Daniela raises an eyebrow but can’t stop herself from taking a tiny piece too. Even Manon snickers, quietly massaging your other foot while sneaking a chip.

You laugh softly at the chaos, chewing the gum and feeling… safe. Comforted. Cared for.

Yoonchae beams quietly, satisfaction written all over her face. 'This is my contribution,' she says simply. 'Sometimes, all you need is snacks.'

And in that little, ridiculous moment, your panic melts just a little further, replaced by warmth, laughter, and the absurd comfort of your friends doing exactly what they do best.

Through all the noise and hands and reassurances, there’s one presence that never leaves your side.

Sophia.

She’s not dramatic like Lara, not goofy like Manon, not overwhelmingly warm like Megan, not distractingly thoughtful like Daniela, and not quietly practical like Yoonchae.

Sophia is simply… there.

Always.

And that’s exactly what you need.

Before boarding, when you suddenly mumble, '…I need to pee real quick.' She doesn’t even blink.

'Okay. I’m coming.'

It’s not protective, exactly. It’s not motherly, either. It’s just Sophia being Sophia — your unofficial emotional bodyguard.

In the tiny airport bathroom, you wash your hands slowly, deliberately, trying not to shake. Sophia leans against the counter beside you, arms crossed but eyes soft.

'You’re okay.' She says quietly. No overthinking. No theatrics. Just certainty.

Back in the seating area, you start cracking your knuckles — a bad habit you only do when you’re extremely stressed.

Sophia catches your hand mid-crack.

'Nope,' she mutters, intertwining your fingers with hers. 'Not today. I don’t want you breaking yourself before the flight even starts.'

You huff a tiny laugh, but your chest loosens. It’s impossible not to relax when she holds your hand like that — firm, warm, grounding.

Then your knee starts bouncing uncontrollably.

Without looking up from her phone, Sophia reaches over and rests a hand on your knee. A simple touch. A silent message. 'I’m here. Breathe.'

Her thumb taps a slow rhythm — her secret method of calming you down — and it works embarrassingly well. Your knee stills. Your breath evens out.

She glances up and smiles softly. she'll never admit its more than leader duties, acting as the glue to keep her group from falling apart.

But you know it’s more than that.

She may be the leader of Katseye, but she’s also your forever sister. Family by choice, bonded through hardship, debut, chaos, and love.

And every little thing she does — following you to the bathroom, stealing your hands from your bad habits, grounding you with a touch — it’s never out of obligation.

It’s because she genuinely cares. Because she loves you. Because she knows what you need before you even say it.

And for the first time since entering the airport, you feel like maybe… maybe you can do this.

Especially with Sophia right beside you, steady as ever.

---

The tunnel leading to the plane felt too narrow. Too hot. Too long.

Your steps slowed.

But Sophia… Sophia didn’t let go of your hand once. Just carefully tugged you closer.

When you stepped onto the plane—your breath catching, eyes stinging—Sophia guided you straight to your seats.

24A and 25B. Window and aisle.

'We switched with Lara and Manon,' she whispered. 'So I could sit with you.'

You sat. Stiff. Frozen. Every muscle tense.

Sophia buckled your seatbelt for you, moving slowly, checking your face every second to make sure you were okay.

'Look at me,' she murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. 'You’re safe. I’ll be here the whole flight. If you panic, you grab my hand. If you cry, you lean on me. If you want to sleep, I’ll let you use my shoulder.'

Your voice trembled. 'I don’t want to ruin the trip.'

Sophia shook her head, eyes soft and fierce. 'You’re not ruining anything. We take care of each other. That’s what this group is.'

She squeezed your hand one more time. And this time, your breathing stayed steady.

---

Sophia had been talking to you softly, her voice kept low so she wouldn’t make you more overwhelmed. 'Hey… you’re doing so, so well.' She murmured, hand smoothing over your forearm.

You remember nodding. You remember her warm shoulder pressed against yours. You vaguely remember Yoonchae pulling a beanie down over your ears like you were a toddler because she 'didn’t want airplane germs in your brain.'

But it was all floating, fuzzy, cotton-soft— because your heart had finally exhausted itself.

Your breathing slowed. Your grip on your seatbelt loosened. Your eyelids got so heavy you couldn’t fight them anymore. The exhaustion of being so stressed had finally worn off on you.

Sophia felt your weight slump against her shoulder and stilled, glancing down at you with wide, gentle eyes. '…oh,' she whispered, smiling softly. 'She’s out.'

Megan turned around from the seat in front. 'Wait—like asleep asleep?'

Then she saw your slack cheeks and parted lips. '…aww look at her, man.'

Sophia didn’t move an inch. She held you like a human weighted blanket. At some point you curled inward, fist lightly gripping the fabric of her hoodie.

Her heart squeezed.

She whispered, 'I got you,' even though you were too far gone to hear it.

Hours later — a warm hand shakes your shoulder.

It’s Missy.

You pry your eyes open with effort, blinking like a confused baby deer. Your neck is warm. Your cheek is warm. Your entire left side is warm.

Because Sophia is still there. Still letting you lean fully into her.

When you lift your head the tiniest bit, she snorts a laugh. 'Oh my god,' she says softly, 'you look like you drank eight bottles of cough syrup.'

You blink harder, vision refusing to focus. '…wuh…'

Missy kneels slightly beside your seat. 'Hey sweetheart, just checking in. How are you feeling?'

You squint at her like she’s a lamp. '…s’eepy.'

Sophia absolutely loses it— hand flying to her mouth to smother her laugh. 'She’s fine. She’s totally fine.'

You try sitting up straighter, but your body feels wobbly, heavy, ridiculously warm. Megan pops her head over from the aisle in front, leaning over the seat.

'She drooled?' Megan whispers. 'Tell me she drooled on Sophia.'

'I did not drool.' You mumble, offended in slow motion.

'Ohhhh she’s alive,' Manon teases from behind. 'Barely.'

'S’phia?' You mumble, turning toward her.

She presses your head lightly back onto her shoulder. 'Shh. Don’t even try to talk. Your brain hasn’t clocked in yet.'

Daniela grins at you from across the aisle. 'Y’know… I think planes are your thing now.'

You shoot her a sluggish glare. Everyone laughs.

Sophia squeezes your hand under the blanket and leans down to whisper, 'You did amazing. Really. I’m so proud of you.'

Your eyes flutter. You melt right back into her shoulder. She lets you.

Missy shakes her head fondly. 'Well… considering how you were before take-off, I’ll call this a success.'

The girls hum in agreement.

And you—heavy, warm, soothed by the hum of the cabin and the steady breathing of your members— drift back to sleep without even meaning to.

---

The engines had long since shut down. The seatbelt signs clicked off. You rubbed your eyes, still groggy from the hours you’d slept leaning against Sophia’s shoulder.

Your hair was a little messy, and your cheeks were warm from the combination of sleep and lingering nerves, but… somehow, you felt lighter.

'Hey sleepyhead,' Sophia whispered, leaning slightly closer so only you could hear. 'We made it. You okay?'

You let out a tiny, tired laugh. 'Better than I thought I’d be. Honestly… I didn’t think I could do it at all.'

She smiled, squeezing your hand lightly. 'I told you. You just needed the right crew.'

Soon, you were already moving toward the baggage claim area. You shuffled along, still half asleep, but your confidence had grown by leaps and bounds.

Megan draped an arm over your shoulders, Manon subtly bumping your side to make sure you stayed upright, and Lara was already bouncing with energy, scanning the moving belts for your luggage.

Sophia stayed right beside you, quiet, constant, calm. Every time the noise or crowds made you flinch, she was there—her hand resting lightly on your back, a subtle anchor to the real world.

'Okay, first question,' Lara said with a grin, 'how was the flight, hmm? Were you like… a panicking little ball of chaos the whole time?'

You laughed softly, the sound a little breathless from excitement and relief. 'No… honestly, it was… better than I thought it’d be. I mean… scary at first, yeah. But… having you all there… it made it manageable. You made it manageable.'

Lara gasped, mock offended. 'Manageable?! I was expecting heroic bravery! I thought I’d have to wrestle you into a seatbelt!'

Megan laughed, ruffling your hair. 'Nope. She was a champ. And honestly, she kind of melted into Sophia the whole flight. I think everyone knows she’s going to be napping on Sophia forever now.'

You turned toward Sophia, whose grin was both smug and warm. 'Shut up.' You muttered, but the warmth in your chest made it impossible to be annoyed.

Daniela leaned close, smirking, 'Look at her… already glowing. I think she’s realised something.'

'What’s that?' You asked, curious despite the lingering fatigue.

Manon crouched slightly so she could look you in the eye. 'That you can handle anything. With us.'

The words hit you softly, like a feather landing on your chest. You glanced around at the group—each girl offering a different kind of comfort, strength, and warmth—and you realised she was right. You could face planes, airports, crowds, anything… as long as they were by your side.

Your heart squeezed as a quiet, almost tearful smile spread across your face. You didn’t feel small anymore. You didn’t feel trapped. You felt… safe. Anchored. Loved.

Megan nudged your side. 'You okay?'

'I’m more than okay,' you said, voice steady now, eyes shining a little. 'I’m… I’m unstoppable with you all.'

Lara snorted. 'That’s the spirit. You survived a whole flight! And not only survived—you thrived! You basically levelled up in life.'

Yoonchae offered you a fist bump. 'Next time? Board a plane without panic? Easy mode.'

Sophia chuckled, leaning slightly so your head could brush against her shoulder if you wanted. You did. You rested your cheek lightly there, the familiar weight grounding you in a way nothing else could.

'I love you guys.' You whispered.

They all froze for a second, then Megan grinned, Manon rolled her eyes affectionately, Lara squealed, Daniela smirked but her eyes softened, and Yoonchae just smiled quietly.

'We love you too,' Sophia said, voice low, serious, and warm. She tightened her hand around yours. 'Always. No matter what.'

The luggage belts clattered and whirred behind you. Bags appeared and disappeared. People rushed by. But in that small bubble of warmth, laughter, and gentle teasing, you felt untouchable. You could face anything. Anything, as long as these girls were by your side.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[dykebehaviour]

too pretty to ignore

summary: you’re bratty, you’re spoiled, you keep getting under ellie’s skin - and for the first time, ellie stops pretending she hates it.

cw: bbf!ellie, mean!ellie, brat!reader, spoiled!girly!reader, teasing, jealousy, car sex, fingering & oral (r!receiving), enemies to lovers kinda ???

a/n: please ignore how the sex positions make no sense i cba to actually make them realistic :))

word count: 2.9k

there’s something about nighttime in your house that feels too big, too silent, too echoey.

maybe it’s because you grew up in a place where sound was always happening; your brother shouting at his games, your parents taking calls, ellie existing in whatever room she felt like.

you’ve always hated quiet.

and tonight the quiet is loud.

your bare feet pad down the stairs, each wooden step creaking in a way that makes your nerves jump.

your tiny pj shorts ride up more with each step, the soft cotton tank top shifting as you tug it down, though it never really stays put. the fabric is thin, almost translucent in the dim light, clinging to the curve of your chest and hips.

the house is dim except for the warm golden lamp in the living room.

and there she is.

ellie’s sprawled on the couch like she’s part of it, one arm flung over the backrest, phone held loosely in her hand, thumb scrolling with bored precision.

her hoodie is baggy, her sweatpants loose, her posture lazy in that way only someone entirely at home could manage.

she’s wearing her usual scowl, a permanent fixture that seems to deepen whenever you enter the room.

she doesn’t even look up when you reach the bottom of the stairs.

typical.

you roll your eyes and head toward the kitchen, ignoring her on purpose, because engaging with ellie will only end in her making fun of you.

and right on schedule, as your foot crosses the threshold into the kitchen, ellie’s voice slices through the silence.

“seriously?”

you stop mid-step.

you turn your head just enough to glare at her over your shoulder.

ellie finally looks at you, slowly, deliberately, her eyes dragging down your body in a way that is not subtle, not polite, not appropriate for your brother’s best friend.

the green of her eyes is sharp, assessing, and you feel a sudden, unwelcome heat bloom across your skin under her intense gaze.

she smirks, curling the corner of her mouth. “you’re gonna catch a cold. or a lawsuit.”

you scoff. “it’s my house.”

“and those are barely clothes.”

you toss your hair, nose in the air. “i don’t need your opinions on my wardrobe.”

“good,” she says, eyes still on your legs, “because they’re not opinions. they’re facts. you look like you’re auditioning for a very specific kind of movie.”

you ignore the warmth that rises up your chest.

you ignore the fact that you suddenly feel very aware of your skin.

instead you shoot back, “shut up, ellie.”

she grins.

like she’s been waiting for that.

you head into the kitchen. open the cabinet. take out the snack you’ve been craving. all while pretending ellie isn’t in the next room practically vibrating with the need to tease you again.

after a minute you come back out, packet in hand, munching as you walk.

and then you do something stupid.

you sit on the arm of the couch.

next to her.

ellie stiffens like you’ve just violated the laws of physics.

her eyes flick up slowly - untrusting, amused, confused.

“okay,” she says. “what are you doing?”

“sitting.”

“why.”

you shrug. “i felt like it.”

“since when do you feel like sitting near me?”

you shrug again, shoving a snack into your mouth.

she watches you chew.

watches you wipe crumbs off your lip.

watches you not look at her.

like you’re trying so hard to seem casual that it’s almost painful.

she stares until you finally snap, “what?”

“nothing.” a beat. “just surprised. you usually can’t stand me.”

your jaw clenches. “i don’t- i never said- shut up.”

ellie smirks. “so you can stand me tonight?”

“oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands. “i- can you just- can you not be like this for five minutes?”

“no,” ellie says immediately.

you groan again.

she looks way too entertained.

after a long moment of her pretending to focus on her phone, she suddenly gets up, pockets her keys, and stretches her arms behind her head in a slow, annoyingly attractive motion.

the movement pulls the fabric of her hoodie tight across her chest, revealing the subtle definition of her shoulders.

“i’m heading out.”

your head snaps toward her. “what? why?”

“gotta pick up some weed.”

“now?”

“my plug’s only free for a bit.” she moves toward the door. “tell josh i’ll be back.”

something sharp cuts through your chest.

you hate the silence in this house.

you hate how empty it is.

you hate the way shadows pool in corners and how you’re stuck with your thoughts.

“wait- don’t go,” you blurt.

ellie freezes mid-step.

then slowly turns around.

“come again?”

you look away, cheeks hot. “just… don’t go yet.”

“are you asking me to stay?”

“don’t make a thing out of it.”

“you literally never want me here.”

“ellie.”

she stares.

hard.

like you’re some puzzle she’s trying to solve.

“…are you okay?”

you make a strangled noise. “yes! i’m fine.”

“then why are you being-” she gestures vaguely at you, “-friendly?”

you snap, “i watched something scary, okay?”

ellie brightens like it’s her birthday.

“oh, this is gonna be good.”

you glare. “i swear-”

“what was it?” she interrupts, leaning against the wall. “scream? hereditary? oh let me guess- you watched a youtube video and someone mentioned demons-”

“creep,” you snap.

ellie freezes.

then:

“…the peachfuzz one?”

you nod reluctantly.

she blinks.

she blinks again.

and then she absolutely breaks.

ellie bends over, laughing so hard she nearly slips. clutching her stomach. wheezing. tears forming.

“ohmygod- you’re-you’re scared of peachfuzz-”

“ellie, i swear to god-”

“the dancing wolf man.”

“shut UP!”

she’s dying.

you’re dying inside.

when she finally catches her breath, she wipes her eyes and looks at you with a grin that could melt glaciers.

“you are such a fucking brat.”

“and you’re annoying.”

“cute,” she corrects.

you blink.

she seems to realise what she said and quickly looks away.

then clears her throat. “so that’s why you want me to stay? you’re scared?”

you fold your arms. “i’m not scared.”

“you literally are.”

“i just- don’t want to be alone.”

“same thing.”

you throw a pillow at her.

she catches it effortlessly.

then smirks.

“i still gotta go,” she says casually. “unless you want to come with?”

your breath stutters.

“i- yes.”

she raises both brows. “you serious?”

“i’m not staying here alone.”

“then go change.”

you stand. “i’m already dressed.”

ellie stares at your tiny outfit again.

longer this time.

you don’t miss the swallowed breath.

“…you’re gonna be cold,” she mutters.

“i’ll be fine.”

“you won’t.”

“ellie, i’m not changing.”

she curses under her breath.

“fine,” she grumbles. “let’s go.”

her car is cluttered but comfortable, hoodies, empty water bottles, a crumpled notebook full of half-finished sketches.

the air smells faintly of old leather and something metallic, like the garage where she works.

she starts the engine and immediately, tyler the creator fills the space.

you wrinkle your nose.

“ugh. you’re such a typical masc lesbian.”

ellie almost slams the brakes. “excuse me?”

“tyler is masc lesbian god,” you say, reaching for her phone. “i’m not listening to this.”

“don’t touch my phone.”

“give me aux.”

“absolutely not. your music taste is-”

you pout.

ellie glances at you.

and folds instantly.

“fuck. fine. here.” she shoves her phone at you. “but if you play some princess-pop bullshit-”

you play sabrina carpenter.

she groans loudly, but her fingers tap the steering wheel in time with the beat.

you smirk out the window.

as soon as you step out at the meet-up spot, you gasp dramatically. the cold air hits your bare legs and the thin fabric of your tank top like a physical shock.

“ellie. it’s freezing.”

“no shit.”

“why didn’t you tell me?”

she stares at you.

slowly raises one eyebrow.

“i did.”

you shiver aggressively, hugging yourself.

“ellieeee.”

she sighs so hard it shakes her shoulders, rummages through the backseat, and throws one of her hoodies at your face. it’s a dark grey, thick cotton, clearly well-worn.

“put that on.”

“i don’t want-”

“put it on before you turn into an icicle and i have to explain to josh why i let his sister freeze to death.”

you slip it on.

it smells exactly like her. warm, piney, like weed and cheap cologne and something soft beneath it all, maybe just the scent of her skin.

you tug it closer without thinking, burying your nose in the collar.

ellie notices.

but she doesn’t comment.

ellie’s plug, devon, is leaning against a beat-up car under a flickering streetlight.

the moment he sees you, he grins wide.

“well damn, ellie. you didn’t tell me you were bringing a pretty girl.”

ellie stiffens beside you.

you smile politely. “hi.”

“what’s your name, beautiful? you look like you need someone to keep you warm.”

ellie steps between you before you can answer.

“doesn’t matter.”

devon laughs. “why not? she’s pretty.”

you feel heat creep up your neck.

ellie’s jaw flexes.

then:

she puts her hand around your waist.

not gently.

not politely.

possessively. her fingers dig slightly into your hip bone, a silent warning.

“she’s. with. me.”

your brain shorts.

devon lifts his hands. “alright, alright. chill. i get it. possessive much, williams?”

ellie doesn’t chill.

not until the exchange is over, the money swapped, the weed tucked into ellie’s pocket, and devon finally turns away.

only then does she drop her hand.

your waist feels cold without it.

you both sit in the car again.

silent.

ellie’s staring straight ahead, jaw tight.

you watch her in the reflection of the windshield.

she looks… tense. annoyed. like she wants to punch something. or scream.

you swallow.

“ellie?”

she inhales sharply. “don’t.”

“don’t what?”

“don’t start.”

“i didn’t say anything.”

“you’re staring.”

“you’re being weird.”

“i’m not being weird.”

you turn fully toward her.

“why did you do that?”

“do what.”

“you know what.”

ellie doesn’t respond.

“ellie.”

nothing.

“why didn’t you like devon flirting with me?”

her hand tightens on the steering wheel. “because i didn’t.”

“why.”

“because i didn’t.”

“that’s not an answer.”

she exhales through her nose, frustrated. “drop it.”

“no.”

she finally turns her head.

her eyes are bright in the dim.

sharp.

dangerous.

“…you really want to know?” she asks quietly.

you nod.

ellie looks away.

jaw clenched.

then, finally:

“because i like you.”

you stop breathing.

“no you don’t.”

“yes. i do.”

“you’re-but you’re mean to me.”

“i know.”

“why?”

ellie shrugs.

“it’s fun pissing you off.”

you shove her shoulder. “you’re stupid.”

“yeah.”

she still won’t look at you.

you stare at her.

the freckles on her cheekbones.

the curve of her lips.

the tension in her jaw.

she’s trying so hard to look indifferent.

so, so hard.

“ellie,” you whisper.

she finally looks at you.

and everything collapses.

you lean in.

she meets you halfway.

the kiss lands hot, messy, breathless, years of tension snapping at once. her mouth is soft, yet demanding, her lips parting instantly against yours. the taste of mint and something uniquely ellie is intoxicating.

ellie groans, a low, desperate sound that vibrates deep in her chest.

her hands fly to your waist, gripping the fabric of the hoodie and pulling you forward with surprising strength.

your fingers tangle in her short, soft hair, tugging gently, eliciting another needy sound from her throat.

you climb over the console, straddling her seat, her thighs, her hips. the gear shift digs uncomfortably into your thigh, but you barely notice.

you’re pressed against her, the heat of her body a shocking contrast to the cold air outside.

she breaks the kiss only to trail a line of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, her teeth nipping playfully at the sensitive skin just below your ear.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that,” she mutters against your skin, her breath hot and ragged.

your fingers yank lightly at her hair in response, a silent plea for more.

her grip tightens on your hips, pulling you flush against her sweatpants.

the windows fog instantly, obscuring the view of the empty parking lot. the air burns with the scent of your combined arousal.

her mouth presses to your jaw, then her lips find yours again, harder this time, more urgent.

her hands travel lower, pushing the hoodie up and over your head, tossing it into the back seat. she rips your thin tank top off next, exposing your chest to the cool air of the car.

“fuck,” she breathes, her eyes dark as they rake over your exposed skin.

she doesn’t waste time. her mouth descends, claiming your collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise, a dark, possessive mark.

she moves lower, her tongue tracing the curve of your breast, before she sucks the sensitive skin just above your nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp from you.

you’re a mess of gasps and whimpers, your head thrown back against the headrest.

she reaches for the waistband of your tiny pyjama shorts with one hand, never breaking the trail of kisses she’s leaving on your stomach.

she slides them down your hips, slowly, deliberately, until they join the pile of clothes in the back.

you are completely bare, straddling her lap, your wet heat pressing against the soft cotton of her sweatpants.

ellie looks up at you, her eyes blazing. “i’m not waiting for the back seat.”

she pushes you back against the door, her hand sliding between your legs. her fingers are rough, calloused from the garage, and they feel incredible against your slick, sensitive skin.

she finds your clit instantly, rubbing it with a firm, insistent pressure. you cry out, the sound muffled by the close confines of the car.

“shh,” she whispers, her voice a low growl, her mouth returning to your neck to bite down gently. “don’t wake the neighbours.”

she slides two fingers inside you, slick with your own wetness, stretching you open. she starts a slow, deep rhythm, her thumb never leaving your clit.

you’re bucking against her hand, your hips thrusting forward, desperate for more.

“ellie, please,” you beg, your voice thick with need.

she pulls her hand away, just for a second, and you whine in protest.

“i want to taste you,” she says, her voice husky.

she shifts, pulling your hips forward until you’re positioned perfectly. she lowers her head, her tongue replacing her fingers, a hot, wet shock that makes your entire body seize up.

she’s thorough, precise, and utterly relentless. she laps at you, swirls her tongue around your clit, then sucks hard, pulling you deep into her mouth.

you’re a mess of gasps and moans, your hands gripping the headrest, your fingers digging into the leather.

just as you feel the first tremors of an orgasm building, the silence of the car is shattered by the shrill ring of ellie’s phone.

she pulls back, her face wet, a string of saliva connecting your pussy to her chin. she looks at the caller id: josh.

“i have to answer it,” she whispers, her voice rough.

“no! ellie, don’t!” you beg, grabbing her arm.

she ignores you, wiping her mouth quickly on her sleeve and hitting the answer button. she puts the phone on speaker, holding it awkwardly between her shoulder and her ear.

“yeah, what’s up, man?” she says, her voice surprisingly steady, though a little breathless.

“where are you? i’m almost home,” josh’s voice crackled through the speaker.

ellie’s eyes meet yours, a devilish glint in them. she reaches down, her fingers finding your wet, throbbing clit.

“oh, i’m just… out. running an errand,” she said casually, her fingers starting to rub you in slow, deliberate circles.

you gasp, biting your lip hard to keep quiet.

“cool, cool. hey, is my sister there? i told her i’d bring her back some of my girlfriend’s cookies,” josh asked.

ellie’s fingers were now working you with a focused intensity, and you could feel yourself getting closer again.

“your sister? nah, i haven’t seen her. she’s probably asleep,” ellie lied smoothly, her eyes locked on yours, watching the pleasure bloom on your face.

you couldn’t hold it in. a loud, involuntary moan escaped your throat.

ellie’s eyes widened slightly. she quickly slapped her free hand over your mouth, muffling the sound.

“what was that?” josh asked, sounding confused.

“what was what? oh, that was just… the radio. bad signal out here,” ellie said, her voice strained. she pressed her fingers harder against your clit, pushing you over the edge.

you were vibrating against her hand, your body convulsing in a silent, muffled orgasm. tears pricked your eyes from the intensity and the pressure of her hand over your mouth.

“oh. okay. well, i’ll see you in a bit then,” josh said.

“yeah. later, man.” ellie hung up the phone and immediately pulled her hand away from your mouth.

you gasped for air, your body still shuddering, completely spent.

ellie looked down at you, her face flushed, a triumphant, slightly manic grin on her face.

“i told you i’d ruin you,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “and i told you i’d make you scream my name. even if i had to muffle it.”

you were too exhausted to speak. you just wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her close.

“we need to go,” she said, her voice soft now, the mean girl facade completely gone. “josh is going to be home in ten minutes.”

she helped you pull your clothes back on, the silk shorts now damp and wrinkled. she drove you home in silence, sabrina still playing softly on the stereo.

perm taglist: @yasmilks , @frosttbitten , @lovemiraamira , @ellies-real-wife , @wewerewildandfluorescent , @jullsii , @eyesttokill , @dmenby3100 , @bunchogravie , @oneinameliann , @intheshadowofthestars , @pariiissssssss , @vanpalmertruther , @madsxh1022 , @rbnvrnxoxo , @firefly-ace , @alyaserrax , @silly-pigeon69 , @glassofgreenteapls , @serpentskrtt , @m0th3rcal , @sincerelyherz , @0phantom0 , @ggutpunch , @leeidk87 , @mikellie , @celiacallsitcasual , @gurlbownerr , @l0veylace , @bluminescent-moon , @oatmatchalatte , @hitmehardmommy , @iadorefineshyt , @jksevendays , @liztreez , @clemrules , @yourl0caltrash , @rootytootymeow , @thebadwritersposts , @vanillacigarettes777 , @soltwent , @allisonsivy , @lesbian-useless , @lovewitchss , @abigail-andersons-wife , @valeisaslut , @ssijht , @meow4510 , @vixenkii , @modernvenuss ,@pryncess123 , @frey-williams , @hxneybugsworld , @iloveclairo2016 , @shadowybasementmiracle , @nutmegsnorter , @improbablynotpoppy , @simpingonwinonaryder , @e-l-l-i-e-w—p-a-i-g-e-b5 , @elliewilliamkisser2000 , @newjupiter , @willowlovestheweasleys , @tr0928 , @caitvisthirdmember , @honeyylovee , @idek4bands , @andreaaaxoxo , @mymy2o1 , @ur-local-astronaut , @laiim , @like-a-dirty-french-novel , @pearlescent0o , @icong-nizo , @girlsatourbest , @0ngeeked , @celinealways , @kikispool , @hyperbabes , @hauntedclaudio , @shakeyodreadsshakeyodreads , @roseegallagher , @ferretthegremlin , @smellslike-updyke , @nikaaaaaapple , @lynn5783 , @nahuyul <3

[woman-pleaser]

i need to give someone head so bad its not even funny

[grizzlyzoo]

I want soft evenings with a femme. Just laying on their chest and napping or watching something together. Their hand going through my hair, cupping my face. Soft kisses and hot tea.

[deathstar-butch]

femme whos telling me to be a good girl for mommy and go faster, as i cry and whimper while thrusting into her bc she feels so good and if i go any faster or harder im gonna cum too soon