thefirstromantics

[thefirstromantics]

“now she’s running from this d*ck, i told her stay with it”

꩜ pairing: caitlyn kiramman x female reader

꩜ warnings: explicit content, language

꩜ word count: 908

꩜ synopsis: you slip up and call your girlfriend “mommy”. the rest is history.

☆ art cred: @/xjdkg89q on twt :3

You're not sure how many times Caitlyn has made you come already.

Reduced to tears and beyond wrecked, your hands move to push your pussydrunk girlfriend away while your core yells at you to let yourself be royally ruined. After all, you did sort of ask for it.

The sheets are damp, your thighs sticky with your glistening slick, and she’s still not done with you. The strap-on inside you is thick and curved just right, pushing in deep with every merciless thrust as her fingers rub tight, fast circles over your clit.

She’s above you, rutting into you hard—strong and controlled like normal, like she knows exactly how you fall apart and has no intention of letting you hold yourself together.

“Such a mess already,” Caitlyn tuts, utterly calm, as if this is another regular day. “But, you’re not satisfied yet, aren’t you? Gods, just look at you. Fucking gorgeous.”

You choke out a high-pitched whine, nails digging into her biceps, as you try to keep up—your head spinning, your body convulsing.

"C-Caitlyn," you breathe out, barely able to process anything. "Hah—don't stop."

“I won’t, baby,” she pecks your cheek, deceptively affectionate and almost ruthless. “You don’t get to run from this.”

She thrusts deep without warning, hard enough that your back arches off the bed. It’s ridiculously obscene that it rips a pathetic sound out of you—half-moan, half-plea.

"O-oh, fuck! Ngh, feels s’ good, m-mommy—!"

Immediately, time freezes.

Your blood runs cold when the haze in your mind clears and reality comes tumbling down. 

No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening.

Caitlyn’s hips stutter, her body suddenly heavy above yours as she looms there and gapes at you. The room goes silent except for the rapid thud of your heartbeat.

You hadn't planned to say it. You swear.

It, quite frankly, slipped out, tangled in desperation—your brain too fuzzy, your mouth too loose. And now it flickers between you like something sinfully electric.

Your eyes widen, “I—I didn’t—”

Her hand grabs your jaw and tilts your face up, a squeak escaping you at the sudden movement.

Caitlyn's expression is surprisingly unreadable. Her mouth is slightly parted and her eyes blaze dangerously blue. Not angry, no, but… hungry.

“Say it again,” she whispers, her demand crackling with charged want.

You blink up at her, stunned.

“Caitlyn—”

“No,” she interjects, her words sharper than before. “That’s not what you called me, sweetheart. Say it again.”

Your pulse trips. You don’t even mean to obey, you’re embarrassed for heaven’s sake; it happens naturally.

“…Mommy.”

Once you let the title hang in the air, that’s it. Something inside her snaps.

She nearly growls, low in her throat, and then she’s moving, grabbing your wrists and pinning them hard to the mattress above your head with one hand. The other braces against your thigh as she fucks into you again, this time with real intent.

“That's my good girl,” Caitlyn pants, rough now, feral. “So, so needy you couldn’t help yourself.”

Your legs quiver as she pounds into you, the wet slap of her hips hitting yours echoing through the room. The tip drags hard against your sweet spot, her rhythm relentless.

“You wanted mommy to take care of you, didn’t you?” she hisses, dragging her mouth along your throat. “Wanted to be ruined by her cock, stuffed like a little slut.”

“Y-Yes—” you can’t think. You surrender to the pleasure, incoherently babbling, “I need it so bad, mommy. S-shit, please—”

“Oh, you need it?” she mocks, deliciously cruel. “Wasn’t even meant to come out, was it? But you can’t stop calling me that, can you?”

You shake beneath her, too gone, too broken, too everything.

“I bet you’ve been thinking about it,” Caitlyn continues, grinding into you even deeper, her physique commanding every inch of your skin. “Thinking about mommy tying you down and fucking you dumb. Claiming this pussy like it’s hers. Isn’t that right?”

You cry out, thighs trembling under her grip.

“It’s yours, mommy—mmf—a-always been yours—”

“Fuck.”

Her fingers dig into you harshly. She leans down and kisses you hard, biting your lower lip before pulling back. Her face is flushed and focused, hair an absolute mess, brow furrowed like she’s concentrating on every thrust.

“You want to come for mommy, princess?” she asks, and it’s so filthy the words punch straight through you.

“Yes,” you moan shamelessly, teetering on pornographic. “Please—please let me.”

“Then take it,” she groans. “Be a good girl and take it.”

Your orgasm crashes into you like a wave. You scream, legs jerking, as pleasure rips through you, abrupt and shattering. You don’t even realise you’re sobbing until Caitlyn finally stops moving, letting you breathe.

She stays buried to the hilt inside you, slowly rocking her hips enough to make your oversensitive body twitch and whimper.

Her expression softens to its usual protectiveness.

“There she is,” she coos at your beautifully fucked-out state. “That’s my girl. All spent. All mine.”

You nod, barely conscious, lips swollen and cheeks wet.

She finally lets go of your wrists and cradles your face in both palms, her thumbs brushing away the tears gently.

“You’re going to call me that again,” Caitlyn says in a tone that caresses like fine silk yet cuts like a vicious blade. “Next time, you’ll beg for it and I’ll show you what it really means to be mommy’s girl.”

[thefirstromantics]

PAIRINGS: D0M!VI X SUB!F!READER

PREFACE: hit me hard and soft.

WARNING(S): EXPLICIT C0NTENT (MINORS & MEN DNI)

TAGS: mean/soft dom!vi ;; strap-on sex (r.receiving) ;; overstimulation ;; degradation + praise (?) ;; strap sucking ;; strap referred to cock ;; edging ;; mirror play ;; rough handling ;; mention about bruises ;; riding ;; heavy grinding.

01. “if you’re gonna cry, cry on my strap.”

you knew you fucked up the moment you made that bratty comment under your breath. something about her hands being all talk.

vi heard it.

vi always hears it.

she doesn’t say a word at first. just smiles—tight, slow, dangerous.

that kind of smile that makes your stomach flip and your thighs press together.

she drags you to the bedroom with a grip tight around your wrist, her jaw clenched, steps silent. the only sound is the zip of her gear being stripped off, and the clink of her harness dropping onto the bed.

“you got one chance to apologize,” she growls, clicking the strap into place. “but since you like to run your mouth so much, maybe i should just fill it.”

you blink up at her, still playing dumb.

and then she bends you over the edge of the bed so fast your knees buckle. your clothes? gone. her hand? gripping the back of your neck. her strap? already pressing against your dripping cunt.

"you gonna behave now?" she murmurs against your ear, voice like sandpaper and smoke.

you whimper something incoherent, still squirming.

“oh no, sweetheart. you’re not squirming your way out of this. not after mouthing off.”

she slams in all at once.

you scream. fistfuls of sheets. eyes rolled back. vi doesn’t stop—she doesn’t let you adjust. just pounds into you relentlessly, one hand pushing between your shoulder blades, the other tangled in your hair to keep your face pressed into the mattress.

“you like this? huh?” she pants, hips slamming against you. “you like being used like a fuckin’ toy?”

"y-yes!"

"too bad. toys don’t get to choose when they come."

your legs are trembling. the room's a blur. you’re crying—actual tears. but she doesn’t slow down.

not until you break.

not until you sob, “i’m sorry, vi—p-please—i’ll be good—just please—”

and that’s when she softens.

“oh, baby...” she coos suddenly, slowing to a deep, grinding rhythm. one hand strokes your back. the other slides between your thighs to rub your clit slow and gentle.

“you should’ve just said so. my good girl wants to come, huh?”

and when you finally do—screaming her name, collapsing into the sheets—she doesn’t pull out.

she leans over, lips against your shoulder.

“we’re not done yet, baby. you’re gonna take it again. and this time? you’re gonna thank me.”

02. “sit. open. don’t use your hands.”

vi doesn’t need ropes to tie you up. she uses commands. her voice is the leash. her gaze is the knot.

she sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread, still fully clothed in that goddamn tight black tank top and gloves, watching you crawl toward her.

“sit between my thighs,” she says, soft but unshakable. “open your mouth. no hands.”

you obey. you always obey.

she cups your chin, slow, like she’s inspecting a toy she’s about to ruin. her thumb runs over your bottom lip.

“you look so pretty like this. my sweet little thing. gonna take what i give you, huh?”

then she lets her strap rest on your tongue. just the tip. heavy. warm. slick with lube. and you swear—you swear—vi’s smirking like the devil herself when your eyes roll up.

“good girl,” she praises. “but you don’t get to control the pace.”

she holds the back of your head, guides you down inch by inch, until your nose brushes her belly and you’re choking around her strap. she moans. quiet. controlled.

then pulls you back, lets you breathe, watches your spit glisten all over the silicone.

“aw, messy already?” she coos, fake sympathy in her tone. “you’re drooling on my cock, baby.”

she does it again. and again. until your jaw aches, your makeup's ruined, and your thighs are grinding against each other from how badly you need to be touched.

but vi? she leans down, mouth brushing your ear:

“no cumming tonight. not unless you earn it.”

and when you whimper? she kisses your forehead, like she didn’t just wreck your throat for fun.

“you’re such a good girl for me,” she murmurs, stroking your hair. “now sit pretty and let me use you a little longer. that mouth belongs to me tonight.”

04. “lie back and keep your legs open. don’t you dare run.”

vi doesn’t just go down on you.

she claims you with her mouth.

the moment she has you spread out on the bed—naked, flushed, your thighs already trembling just from her looking—vi’s whole demeanor shifts. that usual cocky smirk? gone. what replaces it is darker. hungrier. almost... feral.

she crawls between your legs with the slow precision of someone who’s about to ruin you. big hands slide under your thighs, pushing your knees back until you’re fully open to her. on display. bare and soaked.

“god, baby,” she murmurs, eyes locked on your pussy like it’s her personal religion. “you’re fuckin’ dripping.”

you try to squirm—just a little, from the intensity—but her grip tightens.

“nope. stay right there. i’m not even close to done lookin’.”

then she dives in.

tongue flat, broad, dragging a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. you scream. your hips buck. but her forearm slams across your stomach to keep you pinned.

“did i say you could run?” she growls, voice muffled by your cunt. “be a good girl and let me fuckin’ eat.”

and she does.

messy. no hesitation. like she’s starved and you’re the last drop of sweetness left in the world. tongue swirling, lips sucking, moaning into you as if getting drunk off your taste.

she latches onto your clit and sucks hard, and you shatter. crying, hips jerking, fingers scrambling for the sheets.

she doesn’t stop. not even when your thighs close around her head. not even when you scream that you’re too sensitive.

“that’s too bad,” she murmurs against you. “you don’t come once and get to quit, baby. you come until i say you’re done.”

and when you finally collapse, soaked and overstimulated, she pulls back—face glistening, lips swollen, eyes wild.

then leans over you, smirking again.

“yeah,” she whispers, dragging her tongue over her bottom lip. “mine tastes better than breakfast.”

05. “if you wanna ride me, you better work for it.”

vi lets you ride her—but only when she says so.

you're already aching when she sits back on the bed, legs spread wide, strap standing tall, lube slick on the silicone and that teasing smirk on her face. she’s got her arms behind her, resting casually like she’s not about to absolutely wreck you without lifting a damn finger.

she pats her thigh.

“well? you wanna sit on it? show me.”

you crawl into her lap, thighs shaking, eyes wide, needy, soaked. you line yourself up, whimpering as the strap presses in, stretching you so slowly it hurts.

vi groans under her breath, watching every second. “that’s it, baby. nice and slow. take all of it.”

you gasp—hips twitching, desperate to sink down faster—but her hands snap to your waist.

“don’t fuckin’ move yet.”

her grip is iron. you’re fully seated, stuffed full, clenching hard around the strap and shaking with the need to grind, to ride, to move—but vi just holds you still.

“feel that? how deep i am?” she whispers, lips brushing your ear. “now show me what that pretty pussy can do.”

she leans back.

lets go.

smirks.

"come on, baby. ride me like you mean it."

and fuck—you do. your hips start moving in tight, desperate circles, up and down, chasing friction. every bounce slaps skin to skin, your moans getting higher, breath coming faster.

vi watches you like you’re the most beautiful mess she's ever seen. one hand rests lazily on your waist, guiding your rhythm. the other slips down to rub slow, cruel circles on your clit.

“good girl,” she pants. “that’s it. fuck yourself on my cock. make me proud.”

you’re whining now—full-body trembling, thighs quaking, drool slipping from your lips as your pace falters.

vi grabs your hips and slams you down.

“not done. you don’t stop until i say. keep riding. keep fucking riding, sweetheart.”

and when you finally shatter, sobbing her name, collapsing into her chest?

vi holds you close. kisses your temple. and whispers—

“you did so good, baby. but i think you can give me one more.”

[thefirstromantics]

𓂃　 ⁺ ₊ slow downˊ˗

⭒ synopsis ᵎ 〜 headcanons for dealer!ellie x good girl!reader in a college setting. enjoy ;) ⭒ content ᵎ 〜 mdni top!ellie, bottom!reader, fingering (r!receiving), strap-on (r!receiving), mention of weed, degradation, dacryphilia, mirror sex ⭒ word count ᵎ 〜 1.1k ⭒ notes ᵎ 〜 some short headcanons as an apology for being away

⁺  you’re the kind of girl who colour codes her notes and religiously says “thank you” to bus drivers. you would’ve never even dreamed of smoking weed, but here you were. texting a dealer, on your own, because your friend had convinced you that ellie’s weed would calm your nerves.  everyone who’s anyone knows ellie williams. strap god, weed extraordinaire, chaotic lesbian. the epithets pile up. but to you? ellie’s warm, charming, and a demon in bed (but everyone knew that, too).

⁺  ellie shows up to your dorm smelling like weed and oil, guitar case slung haphazardly over her bare shoulder and licking sugar off her thumb from the gas station rock candy she had bought on the way there. it was weirdly seductive. she knows you're innocent from the moment her murky half-lidded eyes met your own blown-out ones. the way you introduced yourself only reinforced her idea that you had definitely never done anything like this before: “hi… i’m __, i think i texted you?” as if she might say no. “yeah, sweetheart, y’did. you usually this nervous?”

⁺  when you tell her you’ve never smoked before, she goes soft. not sweet, by any means, but interested. next thing you know she’s rolling up a new joint with the weed she brought and making you take the first hit, coaching you through every movement. “don’t hold it too long. there you go, nice n slow. i got you, baby” then, “you ever kiss someone?” she’s asking while leaning into you, barely giving you time to even process her question before her lips are moving against yours with a fervor that could scare the gods.

⁺  after that, you’re all she thinks about. not the girls who beg her to eat them out at frat parties. you, with your pink lipgloss and apologies and virginity she wants to destroy.

⁺  ellie talks you into coming over to hangout for a “smoke sesh”. promising a genuinely chill night and bribing you with the opportunity to see her play her guitar (something nobody’s ever gotten to see). the chill doesn’t last long. it’s not ellie’s fault, really. who could keep their hands off of you when you’re smiling so pretty and your eyes are falling closed after only two hits? she’s touching you slow, her hand building up your thigh and ghosting over the heat radiating from your cunt. “anyone ever touch ya here?” you shake your head and she’s suddenly grinning like a devil. “want me to be your first?” you nod this time, and her smile grows impossibly wider. you don’t even realize your rocking into her hand until you hear her chuckling into your ear, breath hot on your neck, “i’ll take care of you, baby.”

⁺  she goes so slow. kissing down your stomach and latching onto your thighs. she pulls your panties down with her teeth, just to be able to see the blush grow across your cheeks.

⁺  she eats you out like she has all night. you’ve never been touched like this before, and every whimper and squirm only fuels ellie’s fire more. her eyes are gazing up at you when she slips her finger in for the first time. she relishes in the feeling of your core, the way you squeeze around her whenever she hits just the right spot and the sound of your gasps when her tongue brushes against your puffy clit.

⁺  ellie was known for hitting and dipping, but for some reason she just couldn’t shake you. maybe it was the way her hands carved into your hips so perfectly, or the way your whimpers sounded so sweet in her ear when she was plunging her fingers knuckle-deep into your sopping cunt. whatever it was, ellie knew she couldn’t let you go. you’re her favourite thing to ruin.

⁺  she won’t stop texting you. ‘you up?’ ‘wanna come over and let me make you cry again?’ ‘miss your thighs around my head’ once she knows what she wants, she’ll do anything to get it. you’re officially ruined for anyone else. you walk through the campus glowing, thighs sore, deep-purple marks hidden beneath your classy turtleneck. no one suspects that the quiet good girl with a pastel tote bag gets fucked into the stratosphere three times a week by ellie fucking williams.

⁺  she starts bringing her guitar when you two meet. she plays songs that no one’s heard before, ones that are clearly about you. she’ll sing to you in between rounds, with your head in her lap and your panties somewhere across the room.

⁺  ellie gets territorial. your hers, and everyone needs to know that. she makes you sit on her lap everywhere, hand always on your waist and a nasty glare directed at the frat boys who try to talk to you. she loves to mark you up, leaving hickeys all over you. especially in places only she’s allowed to see. she’ll lend you her clothes and beg you to wear them into class. you do, one day, draped in her oversized red flannel. everyone recognizes it and the whispers are insufferable. ellie loves it. “ya look good in my clothes, baby. gonna look better out of ‘em later.”

⁺  she is most definitely a service top with a bit of a domination kink. she loves to corrupt you, have you falling apart on her strap and making you say filthy things. “c’mon, sweetheart. you gotta use your words or i can’t touch you.” she makes you beg, and once you do (breathy and soft, hands covering your reddening face) a huge grin takes over her entire face and she fucks you harder than ever.

⁺  ellie is skilled with her strap, there’s no arguing about that, but she for sure prefers to watch you come undone on her fingers. something about feeling you clench and gush around her knuckles just gets to her.

⁺  she’s a mirror sex fanatic. everything about it makes her crazy for you. holding your chin up between her pointer and her thumb, forcing you to watch the tears stream down your face as she pounds you from behind. “you’re so fucking pretty when you cry f’r me, y’know that?”

⁺  she definitely likes to delve into degradation every once in a while, particularly after she’s dealt with a rude customer. “look at you, dick drunk already huh? act like such a good girl at school and then take me like this? fuck.”

⁺  and, after putting you through the filthiest sex you could imagine, ellie wraps you right up in one of her clean hoodies and tucks you against her chest. “did so good, baby. so perfect, all f’r me.” she’s soft when it counts, rough when it turns you on.

[thefirstromantics]

CUTENESS AGRESSION

streamer!ellie x fem!reader

author’s note: english is not my first language. soooo i saw this video and i couldn’t help myself! maybe i’ll turn this into a smau idk.

warnings: reader is shy! loser!ellie coded. ellie just start to kiss r! during live and they’re the cutest ughhh. reader is called wife, sweetheart, babe and babygirl.

you and ellie had been dating for over two years but only recently she started to post and talking about you. it was your choice. you were very afraid that people would judge you. so when you told ellie she was good to post you, the girl was delirious.

every chance she got, she did it. her instagram feed was practically only pics of you and you two together. and she started to talk a lot about you on her streams, like A LOT.

she was playing the sims because EA sent to her a invite to promote the last expansion pack. she usually would play more dynamic games. she was making herself and she started to playing:

“guys this is not right…my wife is not here with me.”

“this count as cheating? like if i’m going to a club without tell her?”

“fuck i’m going to call her.”

and her fans met you through the speaker:

“hi baby.”

“hi sweetheart, so if i would go to a club alone, without telling you, you would be mad?”

“all alone?”

“yep.”

“i would be worried babe. why are you alone in the club?”

and she started laughing so hard that you couldn’t help yourself too. the chat just kept laughing more adding the funniest comments. this little moment went viral. her fans found your socials, the next day you had 5k new followers.

after this, ellie talked more and more about you and sometimes you would even appear on her lives, only to say hi to the chat really fast and maybe answer some questions. but they always wanted more. they wanted to get to know you! you seem to be a cool girl, your instagram showing how pretty you were and how you have a great life, they wanted to know how ellie pulled a baddie.

a little after insistence, you complied to participate. you both would answer some questions, react to some tiktoks memes about your relationship, nothing very complicated.

someone asked about your makeup and you were answering, “…you know the mac’s pallete? the new one, yeah! i know it’s pretty expensive but looks so good!” you got closer to the camera to show your eyeshadow. and while this, ellie was enamored with you, looking at you with two bigs red hearts on her eyes. “y’all can see? it’s so so so pretty!” you readjusted yourself on your seat and answered more about your makeup, but mid sentence ellie grabbed your face and started kissing you.

“ellie!! sto-“

“no” smooch. “fucking” smooch. “way” smooch. “babe.” loud smooch.

you were smiling so hard while ellie attacked your face with kisses. your blood rushing to your cheeks when you remembered you were on live. with thousands of people watching you. you tried to escape but ellie just hardening her grip.

“i love you so much babygirl. so so so much. you look fucking adorable talking. you look adorable doing anything, fuuuck, i need to marry you.” she said very softly, only for you to hear, but the good mic picked all.

this little moment of you blew up. like, she posted the clip on her tiktok and it got 16 million views. and apparently, everyone liked you.

[thefirstromantics]

Reader asking Ellie to record them fucking, and Ellie ends up getting really into it (love your writing btw!! 💋💋)

say hi to the camera ─⭑.

⭒ word count: 3.6k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ content warnings: film student top!ellie x sub!reader, oral sex (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), strap-on (r!receiving), pussy slapping, hair pulling, filming kink, AFAB!reader, cursing, pet names, rough sex, degradation + praise, MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

࿐not part of the collide au (rip my absolute queens... this actually hurt my SOUL but hey sometimes we gotta go out of our comfort zone and get feral for... the craft)

you said it as a joke.

but it landed like a command.

it happens halfway through straddling her on the couch, your body already buzzing from the way she’s kissing you—slow and deep, like she’s trying to memorize your mouth. her palms are hot under your shirt, fingertips dragging slow up your ribs.

you lean back just enough to catch your breath, grin sharp as ever.

"you should record this next time."

her lips pause at your throat. she stays there, a little shocked, mouth barely grazing your skin, and then—voice low, amused:

"you want me to record you while i fuck you?"

you shrug, all fake casual, even though your pulse jumps.

"i mean… why not? could be hot."

ellie pulls back just enough to look at you. blinks once. and then she grins—all trouble. her hands drag down your sides, deliberate now, like she’s already directing the first shot.

"you want a sex tape, baby?"

your smile widens. "just for me. like, when you're gone late working on a project and i’m in bed missing you."

she groans. like, actual full-body groan. throws her head back against the couch, rubs a hand over her face like you’ve just ruined her life.

"jesus fucking christ. you’re evil."

you tilt your head. "you love it."

her gaze snaps back to you—darker now, her pupils blown wide, her lip caught between her teeth.

"i will story-board the fuck out of it. lighting. blocking. sound. i'll give you a score."

"you’re such a nerd."

“and you’re the one asking a film major to make a porno, so who’s the real nerd here?”

you laugh, leaning in to kiss her, grinding down on her lap.

“bet you’d narrate the whole thing like, ‘scene one—fucking my girlfriend. interior. night. single cam. practical lighting.’”

she chokes on a laugh, then groans, fingers digging into your hips. “shut the fuck up.”

“no, seriously—‘fade in: slut on couch. extreme close-up. one long take. raw as hell.’”

“i’m gonna ruin you,” she growls, and this time it’s not a joke—rough, all threat and promise.

you just smirk, mouth barely brushing hers.

“yeah, but make it auteur.”

she doesn’t bring it up again for a week. you think she’s forgotten, or maybe it was just talk—a shared fantasy that slipped between the couch cushions and the memory of her mouth on your neck.

but then it’s saturday night. you’re fresh from the shower, hair damp and clinging to your neck, skin still warm, still smelling like her soap. you’re wearing her old gray t-shirt—soft, stretched, worn in the best way—and nothing underneath.

ellie’s already in the bedroom. the lights are low, shadows moving slow across the walls. deftones plays from the speaker—just enough to feel in your ribs, not loud enough to distract.

when you step into the room, you freeze. she’s sprawled out on the bed in a black tank top and boxers, one knee bent, and a camera aimed straight at you.

not her phone. not some propped-up, shaky little attempt at homemade porn. a real camera—matte black, compact, handheld, with a flip-out screen angled toward her face and that unmistakable red recording light already glowing steady.

the kind of camera that says she’s thought about this. planned it. maybe even fantasized about how she’d frame you, light you, direct you. and now you’re here. standing in the doorway, already caught in the first shot.

“wait,” you say, blinking. “are you for real?”

she doesn’t even flinch. just looks up from behind it and grins, wide and wolfish.

“oh, i’m for real,” she says, voice warm and smug.

you snort, tugging the hem of your shirt down instinctively, "with a real fucking camera?"

"yeah, wanna see it in 4K" she responds, tilting it, lens still trained on you. "why? don’t get all shy on me now, babe. you're the one who said record it."

“yeah,” you arch a brow. “i just didn’t think i was dating a one-woman a24 production crew.”

“you’re not,” she says, adjusting the zoom. “you’re dating a visionary.”

you try not to laugh but fail.“you look like a lesbian scorsese.”

“and you look like the hottest thing i’ve ever filmed,” she says, voice thick, thumb adjusting the focus. “so maybe be nice to your director.”

you stay where you are for a second. let her film you standing still. let her zoom in the curve of your thighs, the way the shirt clings to your chest, the outline of your nipples through the fabric. the tension builds between frames, between your breaths.

“you’re actually committing to this?” you ask, voice softer now, a little breathless, as if the heat in the room just kicked up a notch.

“baby,” she says, adjusting the focus without even looking away, “i’ve been storyboarding this in my head since before we even spoke.”

her voice is calm, almost sweet—like it’s not the filthiest thing she’s ever admitted.

“freak,” you mutter, but you’re smiling, laughing again—breathier this time. your body already giving in. you step closer, hips loose, eyes locked on hers.

ellie lifts the camera a little higher, tracks the shift of your body as if she’s afraid to miss a second.

“show me,” she whispers, tone low but teasing. “come on, give me a show.”

and you give her one. you lift the hem of the shirt slowly. not for her—for the lens. you know exactly how this is going to look in playback. the glow of your skin in this light. the way your body starts to reveal itself, line by line.

you pull it over your head and let it drop to the floor, nipples stiffening in the cold air. your stomach tenses under her gaze, and you don’t try to hide the shine between your thighs.

she makes a noise—somewhere between a sigh and a curse—and the camera dips for half a second, like her hand twitched. you see her throat bob as she swallows.

you know that look. she’s not sure whether to keep filming or drop the thing entirely and fall to her knees.

and god, it turns you on even more.

"still rolling?" you ask, voice sugar-laced, cocky.

ellie nods once, "yeah. fucking hell, yeah."

you step closer, slower this time. not acting. not pretending. this isn’t performance—it’s instinct. it’s power. the way she’s looking at you, mouth parted, eyes glazed behind the viewfinder. you know she’s turned on before she’s even touched you.

“you better not cut the part where i called you a pervy little director,” you tease, all teeth.

ellie lowers the camera just enough to meet your eyes, flushed and slightly out of breath. hand still holding the lens like a lifeline.

“cut it?” she says. “i’m putting it in the trailer.”

you grin. shift your weight, your thighs brushing.

“turn around,” she says next, and it’s not a suggestion.

it’s gravel and gravity, all command. her voice has slipped into that other place—firm, sure, focused. all director mode.

you smirk but do what she says. slowly, hips swaying. your hands drag down your own waist as you pivot, and when your back is to her, you arch slightly—just enough. let her see the full curve of your ass, the slick glinting between your thighs.

behind you, there’s a sharp exhale.

"jesus christ," she mutters. then the soft mechanical buzz of her adjusting the zoom.

you don’t need to see her to know she’s locked in. her eyes drinking in every inch, the red light on the camera the only thing keeping her from touching you already.

you glance back lazily. “so, you gonna keep filming, or are you gonna fuck me?”

and that’s it.

the camera dips. her body snaps to attention like it’s muscle memory.

you’re pulled back towards the bed in one smooth movement—no hesitation. the backs of your knees hit the mattress and you drop, your body folding back on your elbows, legs parting without a hint of shame.

ellie stands over you, camera raised.

“holy shit,” she mutters.

she brings the camera lower, letting it drink you in, between your legs, over the slick. the way your chest rises and falls, nipples peaked, skin glowing.

“look at you,” she says. “you’re already dripping, just from being filmed.”

you shift, thighs tightening, and she catches the movement.

"such a fucking dirty girl," she mutters, one hand ghosting over your stomach.

she places the camera down on the nightstand, still rolling, still angled at your spread legs and heaving chest. her focus is so fucking precise it sends a wave of arousal through you all on its own.

and then ellie kneels between your legs like it’s her altar.

angel starts playing low in the background, slow and dark.

has she even prepped the soundtrack? you wonder for a second, half-laugh, half-moan.

(of course she did.)

she starts with your knee. presses her mouth there, slow and warm, a kiss that lingers just a second too long before she trails it upward. her hands follow—one curling firm around your thigh like she owns it, the other gliding up the center of your stomach, dragging heat in its wake.

she slips her palm higher, sliding between your ribs, under the soft weight of your breast.

her thumb brushes over your nipple and you gasp, chest lifting into her hand like you’ve forgotten how to do anything else but respond.

"you feel that?" she murmurs, voice low, like it’s just for you even though the camera’s still blinking red. "your heart’s beating so fucking fast."

you open your mouth to say something smart, something flirty, but then she’s kissing up your thigh again and the thought dies on your tongue.

she reaches your stomach, then your sternum, then your collarbone—and instead of diving down immediately, she pauses. tilts her head. looks at you.

and kisses you.

hot and deep, all tongue and teeth. one of those messy, all-consuming kisses that steals the breath right out of your lungs.

you moan into it—she swallows the sound greedily. her fingers are already moving again. one circling your nipple, the other caressing your side.

she pulls back just enough to speak, her lips grazing your cheek, then your jaw.

"you're perfect" she says, kissing beneath your ear, down your throat, impossibly reverent.

your hips roll up involuntarily, and she smiles against your collarbone.

"getting impatient, baby?"

"ellie—fuck—"

she chuckles. not unsympathetic—just pleased. her mouth finds your nipple next, tongue dragging over it slow, flicking, then sucking it into the heat of her mouth. her other hand moves to your other breast, squeezes gently, then rougher, thumb teasing over the tip until you whine.

"god, these tits," she mumbles against your chest, "camera’s not even doing them justice."

your back arches when her palm lands flat on your stomach, sliding lower, past your hip, fingers teasing the edge of your thigh.

"ellie," you gasp again, helpless this time.

she lets your nipple go with a soft, wet pop. looks up at you from your chest, mouth slick, green eyes lit up with that impossible mix of her—tender and ravenous, as if she wants to worship you and devour you in the same breath.

she shifts downward, dragging her tongue along the slope of your breast, down your stomach, until she’s eye level with your pussy. you’re throbbing, already wrecked, thighs trembling just from the anticipation of her mouth.

she glances at the nightstand, double-checking the angle like it matters. then brings her fingers to your folds, spreading you open with both thumbs, totally entranced by the sight.

“say hi to the camera, baby,” she teases, looking up at you.

and then, without warning, her tongue drags a slow, devastating stripe from your entrance to your clit.

you moan—loud, raw, helpless, trying to lift your hips but her free hand is already there, pressing you down into the mattress.

"f-fuck!" you whimper, voice cracking.

"that's right," she murmurs, licking again. "let it hear every fuckin’ sound."

she starts working you in earnest now—tongue circling your clit in tight, practiced spirals, her mouth warm and greedy. she moans against you, like the taste of you is enough to drive her insane. you can feel every vibration down to your toes.

your hands are tangled in her hair, thighs wide open, whole body arching into her mouth. she slips one hand between your legs and slides a finger inside—curling just enough to make your spine seize.

"holy shit," you gasp. "oh my god—Ellie—"

"more," she whispers against your clit, sliding in a second finger "let it see how messy you get for it."

and then she reaches back—without stopping—grabs the camera from the nightstand with her free hand, flips the screen toward you, and holds it low between your bodies. the image blinks into view—a live, unfiltered shot: your pussy stretched around her fingers, your mouth agape and brows furrowed, your thighs shaking with every thrust.

“you seeing this, baby?” she mutters, eyes flicking between you and the viewfinder. “fuck, look at you.”

and god—you do. you watch yourself fall apart in real time, every wet sound, every twitch of your stomach from overstimulation, every pump of her fingers, every gasp on full display. like it’s art, like it’s proof.

and it’s probably the filthiest, most turned on you have ever felt in your life.

its holy and obscene at the same time—your body laid bare, her fingers deep inside you, your face twisted with pleasure, and all of it immortalized in perfect footage.

you can’t look away. neither can she.

"ellie—please—I’m gonna—"

"do it," she growls, "come f’me, come for the camera."

you come with a cry that splits the room, loud, shaking. your thighs squeeze around her hand and your back lifts off the mattress, body wrung out like a rag.

she doesn’t stop, just slows her pace, works you through it. you’re trembling when she finally pulls away, kisses your thigh, and sits back with the camera resting on her bent knee. she lifts it, points it at your face.

you’re flushed, sweaty. lying in a wrecked halo of your own making.

“so damn perfect like this” she mutters, voice a rasp. "you want more?"

you nod, chest heaving.

"words."

"yes," you whisper. then louder, like she needs to hear it. like the camera does, too. "yes. fuck, yes. please fuck me."

and she grins like the devil.

she tosses the camera onto the nightstand—still recording, angled just right, lens slightly askew—but it only makes it hotter, messy, real. something she’ll watch for hours with her hand down her boxers.

she doesn’t say anything as she crosses the room, opens the drawer, and pulls out the harness. it’s not slow or performative. it’s practiced, casual. she straps it over her black boxers with one hand, the other slicking lube over the thick purple silicone cock. it gleams in the low light, catching the flash of the camera’s red recording dot.

you’re already moving, your body shifting on instinct—onto your hands and knees, face buried in the sheets, ass high in the air like it’s muscle memory.

ellie looks at you and lets out a sound from deep in her throat. almost a laugh, mostly a groan.“stay just like that.”

she climbs behind you, smooth and silent. spreads your cheeks with both hands and groans when she sees how soaked you are.

"fuck, baby. you made a whole fuckin' mess back here."

"ellie—"

she leans down, kissing the small of your back, then bites your ass, playful and sharp. one hand grips your hip, the other slides between your legs—and she slaps your pussy once, just enough to make you jolt and whine. it’s wet, loud, dirty.

she groans at the sound. "jesus. dripping."

then she drags the head of the strap between your folds, slow and heavy.

"you ready for it?"

you nod frantically, pressing your face into the mattress.

“say it.”

“please fuck me. please, i want it. i need it so bad—”

she wanted to draw it out—make you beg, make you squirm—but she’s just as wrecked as you are, barely holding it together. so when she finally thrusts in, it’s with one deep, steady stroke that knocks the air straight out of your lungs.

you gasp, choking. “jesus christ!—”

“god, look at that,” she breathes, pulling back, watching the way you stretch and suck her back in with the next thrust. “you’re fuckin’ swallowing it.”

her hands find your hips. she sets a brutal rhythm, dragging you back onto her cock with every thrust, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing off the walls. the sound of your moans, the slap of her thighs against your ass, the headboard slamming the wall—it’s filthy.

she leans forward, chest pressed to your back, and wraps one hand around your breast, squeezing, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you whine. her other hand tangles in your hair and yanks your head back.

“you like getting fucked like this?” she hisses in your ear. “like a toy on display?”

“yes—fuck, yes—”

“touch yourself.”

you obey instantly. one hand between your legs, circling your clit in frantic, desperate little motions while she fucks you from behind like she’s trying to split you in two.

you notice that closer is softly but steadily playing, and the camera’s still rolling, capturing everything. the curve of your ass, the tremble in your thighs, the way your body jerks every time she bottoms out.

ellie groans like she feels it too—because she does. she’s grinding against the base of the strap, hungry and relentless, chasing the friction like she’s starved for it. the harness is soaked, her boxers nearly translucent with how wet she is, and every time she thrusts into you, the base rubs right against her clit.

“you gonna come like this?” she pants. “gonna soak my dick like a good little slut?”

“yes—yes—fuck, ellie, i’m gonna—”

“say it.”

“i’m your slut,” you cry out. “i'm your fucking slut—”

and right then, without missing a beat, she grabs the camera off the nightstand, angles it behind you. the lens catches the mess of your ass bouncing against her hips, the wet slap of skin on skin, the slick sound of your cunt stretching around the purple silicone.

and then she slaps your ass, hard. loud enough to echo through the room.

"fuck!" you yelp, back arching, legs shaking violently.

and you come like a landslide. body seizing, muscles locking, then breaking all at once as you scream into the mattress. it rolls through you in waves, loud and long, your thighs trembling, fingers still working yourself as you ride it out.

you feel it when she starts to lose it—her rhythm falters, hips stutter, breath hitching into short, high little gasps. her fingers dig into your waist and she presses forward, deeper, harder, her chest flush to your back like she’s trying to crawl inside you.

“fuck—fuck, baby—i’m—”

her voice cracks, and then she whines—high and helpless, the kind of sound you didn’t know she could make. desperate and slutty and fucking perfect. her whole body goes taut, then shudders, her thighs shaking as she ruts through it. she comes with her face buried in your shoulder, teeth clenched, breath shivering.

the base of the strap is slick and messy between you now, but she grinding against the harness like it’s not enough, never enough. she groans into your skin, broken and dazed, and you can feel her heart pounding against your back.

and when she pulls out, it’s slow and careful, hands suddenly tender where they'd just been rough. she leans forward and kisses your spine—once, then again—her breath hot and uneven against your skin.

“you okay?” she murmurs, palm sliding up your back in soft, grounding strokes.

you nod, barely able to form the word. “better than okay.”

she laughs, quiet and breathless, into your shoulder. a little dazed, wrecked herself.

she rolls you onto your back, her hand never leaving your skin, and collapses beside you. the room is humid with sex, thick with sweat, heat and the echo of everything that just happened. the air itself feels heavy, slow.

in her hand, the camera is still rolling. its red light blinks steadily, casting a faint glow over the two of you.

ellie flips the screen towards herself, then turns the lens on you—zooming in dramatically on your wrecked face.

“say hi, baby” she teases, still catching her breath.

you blink up at the lens, dazed. hair a disaster. lips kiss-bruised. eyes glassy like you’ve just returned from the dead.

“hi,” you mumble, grinning like a fool, “i just got fucked into the stratosphere.”

ellie then pans the camera to her own face—sweaty, flushed, hair sticking to her forehead—and raises both brows like she’s in a documentary.

“filmmaker. method actor. strap goat. i do it all.”

you burst out laughing, weakly swatting at her.

she grins, crooked and proud, turning the camera back to you. “and you just won best actress in a leading role, doll.”

“so, what’s the title?” you ask, giggling into the pillow.

ellie snorts—eyes gleaming like she just won an oscar and knocked someone out in the same damn night. she adjusts the angle, tilts the camera so you’re both in the frame: flushed, sweaty, radiant, completely ruined.

then, with the most serious voice she can manage, she deadpans to the lens—

“the slut and the lesbian scorsese.”

you wheeze. “shut the fuck up.”

“already submitted to sundance, actually.”

“you’re insufferable.”

“director’s cut drops next week.”

you try to slap her but miss—too sore, too high on her, too in love. she just laughs, smug and glowing, and zooms in one last time on your face.

“five stars,” she murmurs, “would absolutely fuck again.”

⭒ perm taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <3): @talyaisvalslutsoldier @miajooz @andiemiaswife @mayfldss @sewithinsouls @coastalwilliams @hotpinkskitties @ssijht @pleasejoel @pariiissssssss @liddy333 @beeisscaredofbees @d1catwhisperer @the-sick-habit @elliescoquettegirl @elliewilliams-wife @yueluv3rrrr @your-eternal-muse @ellies-real-wife @katherinesmirnova @ellies-moth-to-a-flame @thxtmarvelchick @natscloset @lesbiansreverywhere @2against3 @wwefan2002 @ilahrawr @harmonib @piastorys @azteriarizz @starincarnated @natssgf @ukissmyfaceinacrowdedroom @iadorefineshyt @claudiajacobs @urmomssideh0e @kingofeyeliner @womenlover0 @ferxanda @imunpunishable @elliewilliamsloverrrrrrrr @bambi-luvs @maru0uu @mikellie @gold-dustwomxn @nramv

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ omg… first fic NOT set in the collide au in literal MONTHS and it feels SO weird but soooo good to write something different omfg 😭 rockstar!ellie and popstar!reader yall still haunt me everyday. my favorite lesbians for the rest of the eternity. i’ve missed this kind of chaos. huge love and tysm to my gorg mootie who sent this amazing request before i even started collide—you live in my brain rent free forever bby!

i might play around with a few more fics + requests before launching the next big series i’ve been outlining (👀), so stay tuned babes. ily all dearly ♡

Please leave a comment if you’re interested in being on my perm taglist!

credits for divider: @cafekitsune <3 – images from pinterest - edited by me

[thefirstromantics]

SHE GETS THE JOB DONE! • VI

🎵: The Giver by Chappell Roan

CONTENTS: modern au, afab reader, female reader, smut, pillow princess reader, stone top Vi, don’t interact if you don’t like that!

SUMMARY: headcanons about stone top Vi x pillow princess reader.

A/N: I wrote this for fun! It’s nothing serious! I’m not assuming anything about Vi! Keep that in mind and enjoy!

Stone top!Vi who honestly thought she’d never find the right partner. Everyone insisted they could “turn her” and it made her so angry. She didn’t want to be turned, she likes who she is!

Stone top!Vi who thought she had died and went to heaven when you showed up. You, a pillow princess, were absolutely perfect for her. You understand her boundaries, because you have your own. The dynamic is perfect!

Stone top!Vi who loves when you bite her during sex. She literally tells you to not bite near her tattoos so the marks are more visible. Whenever she looks in the mirror and sees hickeys all over her neck, she gets so excited. You’re the one who ends up wrecked sometimes, with constant reminders of her, like when she’s rough and you aren’t walking right for a day or two. So when she has a little reminder of you with the bites, it makes her happy.

Stone top!Vi does get rough…pretty often. There’s just something about being able to make love with you that gets her so riled up, and she just needs to get that energy out! She’s such a puppy.

Stone top!Vi who sometimes looks forward to the aftercare more than the actual sex. Depending on how mobile you are afterwards, she’ll run hot baths or showers, then wash your whole body carefully. If you’re not too weak, you do the same for her. She enjoys it, but she also respects when you don’t feel strong enough to do it. She’ll also just get a warm washcloth and clean you in bed so you don’t have to move. She’ll check you over for any injuries every time, even if she wasn’t really rough. She wants to make sure her baby is okay :(

Stone top!Vi who uses sex as stress relief. That’s where the roughness comes in most times. She’ll get home from work and (only if you’re up for it) drag you to the bedroom…you might not make it to the bedroom, actually.

Stone top!Vi who will do anything anywhere. Kitchen? Absolutely. Living room? One of her favorites. Bedroom? Obviously. Bathroom…? She’ll make it work. Car? Another favorite of hers, honestly. She is into anything you ask her to do. Any position, any toy, any location, she’s down for whatever, as long as it makes you happy.

Stone top!Vi who’s service to you go beyond sex. You kind of have her wrapped around your finger. She’s a giver in every way. She loves to make meals for you, buy you nice things every once in a while. The second you mention something hurting (head, back, stomach, etc) she’s all over you, giving you a massage and fetching anything you could possibly need or want.

Stone top!Vi who cries during sex sometimes. She genuinely feels honored that she gets to pleasure you. She’ll just hide her face in your neck and keep doing her thing.

Stone top!Vi who feels absolutely terrible if she hurts you in any way. Maybe she bit you a little too hard, thrusted a little too fast. She feels so guilty. She’ll say “I have one job during sex and I can’t even do it right!” and sometimes it honestly makes you laugh, then she feels better.

Stone top!Vi who gets more needy than you. She’ll be begging to fuck. Girl will literally get down on her knees, which always leads to exactly what she wants.

Stone top!Vi is the master of praise. She just always knows what to say. When it needs to be dirty, she’ll be gross. When it needs to be sweet, she’s nuzzling into you and telling you how good you are, how proud you’re making her.

Stone top!Vi who also loves to be praised. If you ever were to joke about giving her stickers after sex, she’d take you seriously. She just loves when you’re feeling really good and telling her that she’s the one doing it. It makes her dizzy, honestly.

Stone top!Vi who sends you nudes. All the time. Sometimes multiple days in a row. It might just be her abs. But most of the time it’s a lot more :) she likes to keep you on edge and wanting her. It is her job to fulfill your needs sooo…she fulfills them but keeps them existent.

Stone top!Vi has a breeding kink. Argue with the wall.

Stone top!Vi just loves you so much, she’ll do literally anything for you, and that means providing, and providing sometimes means pleasuring :)

[thefirstromantics]

HIII DIVA HRU 💋 ? SOO I HAVE AN IDEA, SEVIKA X BIMBO READER ??

❝ — the glitter one ֶָ֢ᐟ ❞

↪bimbo! reader × sevika .

Sevika came home to the smell of something buttery and kind of sweet. That was new. Not burnt, not store-bought, not even microwaved wrong.

She raised an eyebrow as she kicked her boots off and set her bag down, already loosening her shirt collar. “Babe?”

Your voice rang out from the kitchen like a bell: “Hi, baby!!” She smirked. Loud, cheerful, so you, God, you were probably trying to make dinner again.

“Gonna take a bath real quick,” she called out, heading toward the bathroom with half her mind already on scrubbing grime off her shoulder and the other half on wondering if she was gonna end up with glitter in her food again.

You had this thing about putting edible glitter on everything lately. Even soup.

Twenty minutes later, steam poured out of the bathroom and her hair was tied up, skin warm and pink from the water. She wandered into the kitchen barefoot, drying her hands on a towel— And froze.

You were crying. Not quiet tears either, Full-on sobbing at the stove.

“Baby?” she said, dropping the towel.

You turned around so fast your heel got caught on the rug and you almost slipped. There were streaks of mascara on your cheeks, tears running down your face, and blood.

“Oh my God, what the fuck happened!?”

You held up your hand in slow motion like you were revealing a crime scene. Your index finger was bleeding, not too badly, but enough to leave a crimson trail down your wrist and a few drops on the counter.

“It was the sparkly one,” you wailed.

Sevika blinked. “The what?”

“My nail, baby!” you cried, lip trembling. “The sparkly one!! The one with the rhinestones and the little, like, silver star? I was-... I was stirring the sauce and I bumped it on the side of the pot and it snapped off and now it’s BLEEDING and- and I think there’s glitter in the onions and I ruined dinner and I’m gonna die here!!"

Sevika pressed her lips together, She was fighting for her life not to laugh.

Your hand was dripping blood. Your left eye was smudged with mascara. You had a pink velvet robe on over what was clearly a tiny lace bra and thong set you’d put on just to feel cute while cooking.

And still, amid the chaos, there were two pans sizzling on the stove. Garlic, butter, something with cream. She sniffed again. “Did you—are you making fucking chicken francese?”

You hiccupped. “I don’t know what it’s called, I just— I followed the old lady on TikTok with the pink kitchen and the accent!”

Sevika stepped in close and took your injured hand carefully. “Jesus. You’re bleeding, but you cooked this?” She glanced at the pan again, then at you. “You cook well when you’re in crisis. That’s kinda hot.”

“I don’t wanna be sexy, I wanna be healed,” you sobbed dramatically, wiping your eyes with your uninjured hand. Sevika kissed your forehead.

Then she gently dragged you toward the sink. “Okay, let’s fix your finger before you bleed out over my linguine, sweetheart"

You sniffled and let her guide you. She ran your finger under the cool water, grabbed the little first aid tin she always kept under the sink (because this wasn’t the first time something sparkly had ended in blood), and carefully cleaned the wound.

You watched her the whole time, pouting.

“…Do you think I can glue it back on?” you whispered, staring at your bandaged finger.

Sevika deadpanned: “Babe. You’re missing a chunk of your actual finger.” You whimpered.

Sevika leaned in and kissed the corner of your mouth, thumb brushing your cheek where mascara had smeared.

“Hey. You did good. I don’t care about the nail. Or the glitter. Or if you accidentally cooked your robe belt into the pasta.”

“Wait—did I?” you gasped, turning toward the stove. She caught your waist. “No. But you believed it, didn’t you?” You blushed, pouting even more.

“C’mere,” Sevika said, pulling you in. You melted against her immediately, all curves and sweet perfume and baby-pink lace under her big, calloused hands.

“I wanted to make you a nice dinner,” you mumbled.

“You did,” she murmured. “You also nearly cried yourself to death over a nail, and I still think you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You looked up at her, wide-eyed. “Even with blood in the sauce?”

She leaned down, kissed you again, slower this time.

“Especially then.”

౨ৎ - 𝐓aglist ; @prettyinpink69 , @abbysdollie , @marieeeluvsyou , @littlelovelunette , @madzorwhatever , @zvmbitegirl , @salsalsusu , @katarandaa, @starrycherie, @moonshimegf , @watermelonshine, @zombieeepup

[thefirstromantics]

୨୧ accidentally cumming while ellie is disciplining you.

....her hand comes down again, a sharp crack against your ass, and you flinch, the sting blooming hot. “six!” you gasp, fingers gripping her thigh for balance.

she hums, approving, but her hand lingers, tracing the spot she just hit, then her fingers brush lower, grazing the damp patch on your panties, and she pauses.

“well, fuck.” ellie says, her voice dropping, a smirk tugging at her lips. “you’re wet? you liking this, huh?” she sounds half amused, her fingers pressing against the damp fabric, making you squirm.

“ellie..” you whine, cheeks burning, but your hips shift, betraying you, she chuckles, dark and knowing, and before you can say more, her hand slaps down harder, the force making you yelp.

“seven,” you choke out, tears pricking your eyes, the sting sharper, her other hand slides to your panties, tugging them aside, and her fingers find your slick entrance, circling slow, teasing.

“dirty girl,” she mutters slipping two fingers inside you, stretching you with ease. “gettin’ off on a spanking? naughty.” her tone’s teasing, but her fingers pump steadily, curling to hit that spot that makes you moan, loud and desperate.

“e-eight,” you stammer, another crack landing, harder still, as she spanks you while fingering you deeper, your ass burns, your pussy clenches around her fingers, and you’re a mess, moans spilling freely.

“keep counting,” she orders, her voice firm, slapping again hard. “nine!” you cry, tears sliding down your cheeks, the mix of pain and pleasure overwhelming.

her fingers thrust faster, her thumb brushing your clit, and you’re shaking, so close. “ten!” you gasp as her hand lands one final smack, the hardest yet, and she curls her fingers just right, pushing you over the edge.

you come with a broken moan, trembling across her lap, pussy pulsing around her fingers as she works you through it.

ellie slows, pulling her fingers out gently, her hand soothing your sore ass with soft strokes. “good girl,” she says, her voice softer.

she helps you sit up, smirking at your flushed, teary face. “you took that well.”

“fuck you,” you mutter, voice hoarse, she laughs, kissing your forehead. “anytime, baby.” she says. “wanna mouth off again? i got more where that came from.”

[thefirstromantics]

Caitlyn x reader w misunderstanding trope we are having dinner with her parents at the manor and excuse ourselves to go to the bathroom or something and as we’re walking back to the dining room we overhear Caitlyn say “no it’s not like that, I don’t see her like that” and we think she’s saying that she doesn’t see us as a partner/gf but what we didn’t hear was what Cassandra had said “You shouldn’t play with her feelings, she isn’t like the other girls you’ve snuck in before, before all else she’s your friend treat her heart kindly” so Caitlyn was in reality reassuring her mother that she truly loves us, that she doesn’t see us as one of her flings maybe she clears it up when we can’t sleep and tell her what’s bothering us

NOT LIKE THE OTHERS

contents. caitlyn kiramman 𝑥 fem!reader

masterlist ‧₊˚ taglist

gabi’s quick thoughts. eek this is so cute i love love love

dinner at the kirammans was always going to be a little nerve-wracking. not because you weren’t used to formality– you could easily handle the pristine silverware placement and cloth napkins and saying “thank you” like your life depended on it– but because it was them. caitlyn’s parents. cassandra and tobias kiramman, with their polished gazes and quiet, pointed smiles that made you feel like you were being interviewed even when they were being kind.

caitlyn had held your hand on the way in. had told you you looked beautiful– no, it was much stronger than that– she had told you that you looked radiant, and had kissed your cheek like she meant it. she’d pulled out your chair before sitting next to you, knees brushing under the table, her fingers dancing across your skin when no one was paying attention.

it had been fine, for the most part. awkward small talk, compliments on your schooling and your ‘poise,’ but nothing unmanageable. you were starting to relax, laughing at something tobias said, brushing your foot against caitlyn’s beneath the table like you’d done a thousand times before. feeling seen. safe.

and then, maybe an hour in, the wine starting to lull everyone into softness, you’d excused yourself to the bathroom. just for a second– but on your way back, the contents of the conversation which you had excused yourself from caught your attention. you hadn’t even meant to eavesdrop, but you were rounding the corner back to the dining room when you heard her voice, and you felt the need to listen in.

it wasn’t everyday that cait outwardly expressed how she felt about you– or anyone, for that matter. but when given the opportunity, you were always going to tune in to what she had to say, and even if it wasn’t directed at you now, you felt the undying urge to figure it out.

“no, it’s not like that,” caitlyn said, and you felt your pulse quicken. you must’ve not heard the beginning of the conversation, because there was no possible way that she could’ve been talking about you. all the nights you shared, sneaking out to sightsee piltover or the sleepovers you had, staying up late to bake and share secrets– or the days you spent on the phone just talking and enjoying each other’s company, it was way more than just platonic feelings. 

“i don’t see her like that.”

your heart dropped, and everything else dulled. you didn’t hear cassandra, or the context of what was being said before or after that comment. all you did know was that you were hurt, and you were done with listening to whatever else the conversation held, because just that one sentence echoed in your mind like it had been carved into you. i don’t see her like that.

your hand gripped the doorway. you stood there for another breath, maybe two, before you decided to just turn back. quietly, slowly, you ducked into the nearest hallway and tried to collect your face into something neutral to avoid ruining the evening for everyone else– but your heart was literally racing. your eyes burned with tears, but you blinked them down and pressed your palms into your thighs, practicing your smile in the dim reflection of a window pane.

when you returned, nothing had changed. the candles were still flickering. more wine was still being poured. caitlyn looked up and smiled at you, and you tried to return it, but your throat had closed up and your lips didn’t dare to move.

you somehow made it through dessert and more idle conversation, though you’re not really sure how. you laughed when you needed to, nodded when it was expected, and said ‘yes ma’am’ and ‘no ma’am,’ when cassandra would try to offer you something. caitlyn reached for your hand once under the table and you almost didn’t let her take it, but you weren’t that strong. she may not have felt the same way, but deep down, your feelings still remained.

it was stupid. it was so stupid, but your mind wouldn’t stop playing it back. i don’t see her like that. the words sat heavy in your chest, sticky and bitter, coloring everything else.

you didn’t sleep.

you stayed curled up in the guest bed they’d set up for you, caitlyn still in her room down the hall. you could hear the wind outside the window, hurling throughout the bare trees that lay victim to winter, and you resonated with them. you felt bare and exposed, like the entire ‘thing’ you had going on with cait was only raw for you. like she had been masking, meanwhile, your guard was already down.

you tried to fall asleep, you really did, but it only resulted in constant tossing and turning. it was gnawing at you, that sinking feeling that maybe this had all been one of cait’s little games– and maybe you were just something temporary. a distraction. another girl caitlyn had brought home to appease her parents and to fulfill some short-lived need, but nothing more. 

you hated how much it hurt. how much you’d let yourself feel. you had something so deep for cait that you almost let yourself believe that she still had it, too. but according to whatever she told mrs. kiramman at dinner, there was nothing there. she didn’t have an ounce of feelings for you.

though you tossed and turned for what seemed like hours, around midnight, you finally gave up. you sat up and stood out of bed, reaching over to the dresser to grab and pull on your sweater before making your wait to caitlyn’s room, bare feet against the cold wooden floor as you crept out. you knocked on her door gently and waited, unsure if she was awake, or if you even wanted her to be. 

she opened the door almost immediately, like she’d been expecting you to come, or maybe she was just hoping that you would. 

“you okay?” her voice was soft, and her dark blue hair was mussed like she’d been running fingers through it. she was in a long sleeve and shorts, barefoot, like you.

you nodded, “can i… come in?”

“of course.”

you stepped inside and she closed the door behind you. the both of you were swallowed by an awkward silence, which was rare– considering you were always so comfortable around each other. but a different feeling came about tonight. you wondered if cait knew that you had heard what she said, but it wouldn’t be like her to apologize this late after it happened.

you didn’t say anything at first, mostly out of embarrassment mixed with fear. you just stood there, arms crossed, staring at the edge of her rug and counting the amount of frays on the side before she finally spoke up. she walked closer to you, more careful this time, “you’re upset.”

you shook your head, biting your lip, “i just couldn’t sleep, and wanted to see if you were awake.”

she frowned, not believing you for a second. you hated that no matter what you said or how hard you tried, cait always had the ability to see right through whatever lie you were trying to persuade her into believing. “did something happen, darling? you can always tell me what’s going on, you know that.”

the nickname makes your chest pulse. you hesitated to respond to her question, and that’s when her eyes changed, softening up, like she knew whatever you were going to say was going to be hard for you.

“i didn’t mean to listen,” you whispered out,“but i heard you earlier, when i excused myself to go use the restroom.”

caitlyn tilted her head, confused, so you continued, “when i was coming back, you said…” your voice cracked and you hated it, your teeth gritting together in frustration, also stopping you from letting out a cry. you looked away, “you said you don’t see me like that.”

she froze.

“and it’s fine,” you rushed, trying to backpedal, voice all twisted and cracked, a complete giveaway on how you were really feeling, “and i get it, i just– i didn’t know. i thought we were… i don’t know what i thought, but–”

“no.” caitlyn took a step forward, eyes wide. she crossed her arms at you and shook her head fervently, “no, no, no, darling, that’s not what i meant. you didn’t hear the whole thing.”

you looked up at her, and she gently reached out, but didn’t touch you until you nodded that it was okay. once you obliged,her fingers found your arm, soft and grounding.

“my mother was telling me that i shouldn’t toy with your feelings. that you’re different. not like… not like the others.”

you blinked.

“she said you were my friend, and that i should be kind to your heart,” caitlyn continued, her voice softer now, more careful, and deeply understanding, “and i told her it wasn’t like that at all, because… you’re not just my friend. i do see you like that. like a partner. someone i–”

she paused and swallowed, like she always did when she wasn’t exactly ready to admit something out loud. but, contrary to usual, she kept going, “someone i care about more than i know how to say sometimes. i wish i was better at that.”

you stood there, breath held, heart cracking open and blossoming like you had never felt before. caitlyn drew closer to you, and your hand rested against hers as her irises softened before you, into something much sweeter than you had ever seen her let on.

“i would never play with your feelings,” caitlyn added, quieter now, “not yours. you’re precious.”

you looked up at her, finally letting her see how much it hurt you when you had heard what she said, and how stupid you felt, now realizing that you really had missed the entire context of the conversation.

she pulled you in before you could begin to speak.

her arms went around you and yours mimicked, your face buried in her neck like you were trying to disappear into her. her hands rubbed your back soothingly, her breath warm in your hair, and you could feel how tightly she held you– like she never wanted to let go.

“you could’ve just told me,” you mumbled, voice muffled, “i thought i was just one of your little playthings after hearing that.”

“i should have told you.” she admitted, and the air filled with another interlude of silence. it wasn’t awkward or heavy, just quiet and comforting, and a sense of nostalgia rushed within you, thinking back to when you and cait would just enjoy each other’s presence, communicating, yet not sharing a single word.

you stayed like that for a while. when she pulled back, she looked at you like you were her favorite thing, and it was evident that deeply, and truly– you really were.

“do you want to stay here tonight?” she asked you, but it felt more like a plea than a real question. of course, you had nodded, and her lips tugged into a smile as she squeezed your hand a couple times. she helped you into bed, pulled the covers up, and laid beside you, bodies curling together comfortably.  neither of you said anything else after that– she just reached for your hand under the sheets and held it tight.

[thefirstromantics]

I’m in love with Bella Ramsey but the TLOU show is soooo badddd…

[thefirstromantics]

Service top Vi

cw: smut (minors dni), fem!reader

Vi is whipped. She's completely head over heels for you. She carries boxes, your bags, your heels when you're drunk, you. She pays for you to get your nails done and buys you dinner. And, to everyone else's chagrin, she won't shut the fuck up about you. She constantly finds ways to make any conversation she engages in about you. At some point, she just starts referring to you as her wife because she's so fucking sure about your relationship.

Her devotion doesn't end when you get home though. She decides the best way to show devotion is through worship. She lays you down against the bedsheets, voice firm as she tells you how beautiful you look. She travels kisses over every inch of skin she can get to, offering compliments as she goes. Her hands are gentle as she undresses you. When she travels back up to your mouth and gives you a proper kiss, you feel lightheaded, overwhelmed by the feeling of love she pours into it.

She shuffles down the bed, using her strong hands to part your thighs as she lowers between them. Her mouth is right above your pussy, and you're so worked up you might cry. She doesn't mean to keep you waiting; you're just so pretty, and she loves to stare at you. When you whine out a soft please, threading your hand through her hair, she shakes her head.

“Baby, you don't have to beg. I'll give you whatever you want,” she says as she finally swipes her tongue over your pussy, sucking your clit into her mouth. She moans against you like she's devouring a five-course meal. She is.

She eats you out with the same passion she throws into everything she does for you. Your pleasure is her pleasure. She's studied your body like the piece of artwork it is. She knows how to elicit the most incredible noises from you. She presses two fingers to your hole, smiling against your cunt at the way you moan when she pushes them inside you. The added stimulation pushes you towards your orgasm. Her other arm is steady and holds you down as she works on pleasing you. Taking care of you is always her top priority. The mere act of pleasing you is a stress reliever. Though she'd deny her obvious praise kink if you asked her, she can't help the way she's encouraged when you tell her how good she makes you feel.

Your orgasm hits you, and your grip on Vi's hair becomes harsher, tugging at the hair as she continues to work you through it. “Atta girl, let it all out”, she praises as your back arches away from the sheet. When you come back down, Vi pulls her fingers from you and licks them clean. She's a little obnoxious with her noises but just wants to show you how much she loves your taste.

“Was that good for you, baby?”

You nod.

“Good. Now, how many more do you want?”

[thefirstromantics]

𝝑𝑒 giving blue collar!wife!ellie a bath

no cw btw, just good ol' domestic vibes

The sound of the stovetop sizzles softly as you stir the pan, the smell of garlic and onions blooming in the kitchen. The house is warm—summer dusk filtering in through open windows, cicadas humming in the background, and you… you’re in a new sundress you picked just for her.

It’s nothing fancy. A soft yellow cotton thing with delicate white flowers, fitted at the waist and falling just above the knees. You'd been waiting for a night like this—quiet, slow—and for Ellie to see it.

You’re plating up the roasted vegetables when the front door opens with a heavy creak. Boots hit the floor a second later, then—

“Hey, babe…” comes her voice. Low, scratchy from the day. She sounds like she's already halfway into a nap.

Before you can respond, a pair of strong arms snake around your waist, pulling you flush against a chest that smells like sawdust, sweat, and the sun. Her shirt is damp in places. There's oil on her hands. And now, smudged against your hip, on your brand-new dress.

You stiffen, glancing down at the smear of grease darkening the fabric.

“Ellie,” you groan. “The dress. This is new—”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she mumbles against your neck, already half-limp with exhaustion, head buried into your shoulder like she might fall asleep standing. “You smell good. Missed you all day.”

And just like that, the irritation dissolves. Because when you glance back at her, she’s barely holding herself upright. Her eyes are half-lidded, lashes damp with sweat. There’s a streak of dirt on her cheek and the faintest bruise peeking out from under her sleeve.

You sigh softly, letting your body relax in her hold.

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re pathetic,” you murmur, brushing your fingers gently through her hair.

Ellie chuckles—more of a grunt, really—then leans her full weight into you. “You’re lucky I didn’t die under the sun today. Felt like I was workin’ in hell.”

“You smell like it, too.”

“Mmm.”

You let her cling to you for another minute before turning in her arms and pressing a kiss to her grimy cheek. “Go sit on the edge of the tub. I’m running you a bath.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but you cut her off with a firm look and a finger pressed to her lips. “Don’t argue with me, Ellie. You look like ten miles of bad road.”

“And you look…” she finally registers the dress, blinking at you in awe. “Shit. You look—real pretty. Did you wear that for me?”

You nod, cheeks warming. “Was hoping you’d notice before you got motor oil all over it.”

Ellie lets out a sheepish laugh, and you nudge her toward the bathroom.

The tub’s about halfway full when you peek your head in again. Ellie’s already sitting inside, one leg bent, her arm slung over the edge, hair loosely tied back with one of your scrunchies—bright pink against all that grime and muscle. You try not to laugh.

“You look ridiculous,” you say fondly, kneeling beside the tub with a rag and her favorite shampoo in hand.

“You gave me this hair tie,” she points out with a lopsided grin.

“Didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

You dip the rag in the water and wring it out over her shoulders. She lets out a sigh that rattles in her chest and sinks a little deeper into the water.

“That good?” you ask, voice quiet.

“Mhm,” she hums, eyes closed. “Keep going.”

You work in slow circles, rubbing the cloth along her arms and collarbone, catching little flecks of dirt left over from the day. She keeps her head tilted slightly toward you, every now and then glancing at you like she’s trying to memorize the way you look in this moment—barefoot, hair pulled up, sleeves rolled, tending to her like it’s second nature.

You dip the rag again, and this time she opens her eyes when you reach for her face.

“Can I?”

She nods, already leaning forward a bit. You hold her chin with your hand and gently wipe the smudges off her cheeks and forehead. The way she looks at you—half-sleepy, half-in-love—makes your stomach flutter.

There’s a moment of stillness, your fingers lingering near the corner of her jaw. You lean in and press the smallest kiss to her lips—barely there, more instinct than intention.

When you pull back, she just smiles, eyes crinkling.

“You missed a spot,” she says, nodding toward her chin.

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too, dipping the cloth again and dabbing the spot she pointed to. “Drama queen.”

Ellie shrugs. “Not my fault my wife’s hot and bossy.”

“Not my fault my wife smells like axle grease and sawdust.”

She lets out a soft laugh and closes her eyes again, melting back into the water as you continue washing the day off her, slow and careful. No grand gestures. Just warmth, and steam, and the quiet kind of love that doesn’t need to be spoken out loud.

[thefirstromantics]

suggestive | vi x f!reader

cw: periods, mention of period sex, pregnancy talk

"ugh, my period's here," you groan, collapsing next to vi on the bed. "my stomach hurts, the cramps are killing me, and i want to die."

"please don't die," vi murmurs sleepily, already pulling you into her embrace. "if you die, then i'll have to die."

you snort, amused. "you don't have to," you tell her, gently stroking her arm. "it's not a necessity."

"i'll die if i damn well please," vi shots back, causing you to giggle. "but let's focus on the important thing; you got your period."

you immediately know where this is going.

"vi," you try, laughter already bubbling up in your chest. "i've told you—"

"the universe is so cruel," vi bemoans, fully awake. "i'm trying to knock up my beautiful, delicious—"

"delicious?" you question.

"—scrumptious wife and yet, here she is," vi continues, sliding a warm hand down to your lower stomach. "empty."

"oh my god," you laugh, trying to escape her hold, but you're firmly drawn back to her chest. "vi! how many times can we have this conversation?"

"i need my strap," vi mumurs to herself, ignoring you for the moment. "need to fuck you hard and fast so it takes this time." she's already getting up from the bed, showing off her naked glory as she goes to where you keep your toys. "universe can't keep me from knocking up my wife."

"you can't biologically do that," you tell her, grinning at the middle finger she gives over her shoulder. "you don't have the equipment."

"and yet i fuck you better than anyone who does," vi says easily, bringing out her harness and one of the biggest dildos you have. the one that, uh, shoots out realistic cum. the sight of it has you clenching your thighs a little.

"this is gonna be so messy," you whine, even as you spread your thighs for vi who approaches with purpose. "gonna have to change the sheets."

vi shushes you, climbing to kneel between your legs before laying on top of you to kiss you. she's wonderfully warm, her mouth hot as she kisses dirty and slick. you moan past her lips, relishing her shivers as you glide your nails against her sides and squeeze at her ass.

"put a baby in me," you whisper, drunk on your need for her and vi moans.

"as if you even have to ask."

[thefirstromantics]

sfw, vi-shaped, awk!vi is my new fav drug

cool so, being coworkers with bartender!vi, but always trying to one-up each other when you guys share shifts at the local lesbian bar -- seeing who can rack up more tips, get the most numbers -- she's got the hot butch thing going for her but you're not bad looking yourself (and you've got kinda of a manic pixie dream girl thing going for you).

flirting with each other is just par for the course, more than a given, it's baseline at this point. the constant teasing, the slight undercurrent of unresolved sexual tension thickening the air between you on the slow nights (and even on the busy ones) -- you know each other almost too well, her putting a bottle down in front of you before you can turn to try and grab it, you tossing her the bitters for whatever drink she's got queued up next.

"whoops, sorry," she grins, grazing by you, just as you turn to grab another tall glass for a highball; the space behind the bar is... not large, and you often have to squeeze by each other just to pass by, a touch of skin, the skim of fingers on the small of your back, a warm breath at the nape of your neck.

you roll your eyes even as she presses the highball glass into your hand, already filled to the top with ice.

"your welcome, sweetness," she winks.

you purse your lips, sighing as you turn back to the bar and resume your highball. 2oz of whiskey (top shelf), topped off with ginger ale. you smile as you hand the drink to one of your regulars, a tall girl with dark hair and the smoothest skin you've ever seen.

"you know she's in love with you right?" cait asks.

you resist the urge to roll your eyes again, "we're just friends," you insist, though you can't help the way your stomach twists at the thought, "and you were the one who asked for her number -- which she gave you," you add, pinning caitlyn with a look.

cait sips at her drink, cocking her head.

"sure, and it was all fun and games till i realized her heart wasn't in it. and i've got too much self respect to date someone who's clearly already taken, even if the person doing the taking insists on being thick about it," she says breezily, without a single ounce of compunction or embarrassment. you've always admired that about her, how confident she is in who she is, unafraid to ask for the things she wants, when she wants them.

you lean forward with a puff of breath, blowing a loose strand of hair from your face. glancing over, you catch vi laughing at something someone's said, her profile stark and gorgeous against the foggy street light filtering through the stained glass windows. it's a sunday night, and quieter than usual, the place filled with regulars; vi's long since commandeered the aux cord, indie rock playing soft over the speakers.

"i'm not..." you trail off as vi turns and catches your eye. there's a glint of... something smoldering behind her morning-gray gaze and it sets your every nerve end aflame.

cait scoffs, "well. you can lead a horse to water, and all," she flaps her hand, taking another sip of her drink. vi wanders over, slinging an arm around your shoulders. you swallow passed the thickness of your tongue as you try not to think about how you can feel her corded muscles against your skin.

"hey cupcake, we still on for our date this weekend?"

your stomach drops; cait laughs, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"sure we are, vi -- i mean, who else is going to help you pick out the perfect --"

vi cuts her off with a loud cough, glaring and giving her head a sharp shake. you blink, looking between them.

"am i missing something here?"

cait's lips tug into cat-claw grin.

"always, darling," she teases, batting her lashes before she slides her card across the bar and tosses back the rest of her drink. you slide her card through the register and hand it back with a curious look.

she only shoots you another mona lisa smile before slipping out of the bar. you sigh, crinkling your nose.

"whats up, dollface?" vi asks, bumping you with her hip.

she press your lips, "so... date, huh?"

vi clears her throat, "ah -- yeah, but it's not really a date -- it's more like... uh... a... a consultation."

you pause, your hands caught under the running water in the sink.

"a consultation? for what?"

vi licks her lips; her nose ring catches in the dim bar lighting. you try not to wonder what it'd be like to kiss her, if you'd feel the ring burning cold against your skin.

"just... some stuff i wanted to ask her advice on. she's always been better at -- ah -- gifts... and stuff."

you narrow your eyes, shutting off the water.

"a gift? for who?"

vi's cheeks flush as her eyes cut away from yours, "uh... just..." she hesitates, rocking on the balls of her feet before she shoots you a lopsided smile, "just a girl i've been trying to ask out."

you feel your heart seize, your lashes flutter. you swallow hard, and try not to think too deep into it. you turn to put the clean glass with the rest on the shelf, trying to keep your hands from shaking.

"well, even without the gift... whoever this girl is... she'd be pretty stupid to turn you down."

you make your way to the other end of the bar, gathering up some leftover glasses. vi watches you with dark eyes.

"yeah? you think so?"

you nod, "sure -- i mean," you motion at her with an exaggerated gesture before wiping down a section of the bar, "you're kind of a catch."

vi lets out a laugh, it's higher than usual, breathier too. then, she clears her throat. the bar's almost empty now, the last few patrons tucked into the dark corners, chatting quietly amongst themselves.

"right then -- uh -- fuck --" she swears, and it's only then that you notice she's clenching and unclenching her fists.

time seems to unspool around you as your heartbeat thuds up against the base of your throat. you watch her glance down the bar and then back at you as if in slow motion, and you know what she's going to say half a millisecond before she says it --

"i -- i really wanted it to be perfect but... i mean, fuck it -- you're... the prettiest girl i've ever met -- not that that's the reason but --"

you let out a tiny laugh as vi stumbles over her words, her cheeks glowing redder and redder as she bites her lips.

"shit, sorry -- i... goddamnit, this is why i wanted to practice before --" she tosses the damp dishrag on the counter and takes a long breath as if to steady herself.

you shake your head, a champagne bubble giddiness eating up the center of your chest as you watch her.

"no, no, by all means --" you shrug, "take your time." you lean a hip against the bar, feeling ever so slightly insane as she finally looks up to meet your eyes.

"i mean," you intone, "it's not like you have a date this weekend or anything --"

"oh, fuck you," vi snaps, going red all the way to the tips of her ears.

"mm, wish you would," you say, the response so automatic you don't even process the words till they're out of your mouth. you clench your jaw as vi gapes at you.

"what?"

you take a deep breath, crossing your arms. if there's ever a time to lean in, it'd be now.

"did i stutter, or...?" you quirk an eyebrow.

vi stares for a second more before lunging forward to kiss you. somewhere in the bar, someone whistles and claps. you squeak at the messy press of her lips on yours -- she tastes like a whiskey sour and every single missed opportunity you'd ever let slip by. she tastes sweet; she tastes hungry.

she cups your jaw in both her palms and licks into the hot cavern of your mouth until you're breaking open for her, groaning as you stumble back against the bar, your hands finally finding purchase in the hairs at the nape of her neck.

"sweet fuck," she breathes, pulling back after what seems like an eternity and a half later.

"took ya long enough!" one of your regulars calls from the corner of the bar as his friend croons.

"shut up, loris!" vi shouts over your shoulder before turning back to you with a crooked smile.

you lick your lips, feeling lightheaded and breathless.

"so," you say, as you tug on a strand of her electric pink hair, "does that mean i don't get a present any more?"

vi laughs, "well, technically... i haven't actually asked you out yet."

you smile, nodding along, "oh right, right -- that was just a practice run, right?"

"yep, totally."

you lick your lips, "in which case... y'think we can do better?"

vi swallows, her eyes liquid with warmth as she pushes you back against the bar with both palms on your hips.

"mm... i'm sure we can figure something out."

"yeah? and..." you lean forward to languidly tease your lips against hers. vi lets out a thick groan, chasing after you even as you lean back, "that bit about fucking me...?"

vi puffs out a breath, "yeah... 'm sure we can work on that one too, princess."

[thefirstromantics]

[thefirstromantics]

lazy and sweet mornings with wife! ellie or abby? :,)

yes yes ofc!! i need to write more abby fluff so let this be my excuse!! i hope you enjoy!! apologies for the shortness

⇢ ˗ˏˋrare quiet mornings࿐ྂ

˗ˏˋabby fluff!!´ˎ˗your wife abby attempts to soak in the quiet before the hectic life that is your little family— mdni, lowercase intended, f!reader, fluff, mentions of: marriage, kids, pregnancy, birth, reader has hair*ೃ༄ pls leave reqs!!

abby awoke to the sound of small feet padding about the hallway just outside your bedroom. she couldn't help her smile as she hears the sounds of little whispers,

"shhh quiet! you're gonna wake mommy!" she hears your oldest tell your youngest on the other side of the door — the two sneaking into the kitchen, troublemakers even in the a.m.

after rubbing her eyes awake, abby rolls onto her side to find your still sleeping form, you lied on your stomach head turned in her direction. your hair splayed over your face and the pillow, abby laughed slightly as she pushed it behind your ear.

"mmm" you moan, still tired from your late night.

"good morning my pretty girl," abby strokes her left hand on your cheek, a glistening diamond on her ring finger. she would never get tired of seeing that ring on her hand — and yours.

"too early" you grunt into the pillow, turning your head to press your face into it, covering yourself from the brightness of the sun.

with a teasing smile, abby scoops you into her arms and pulls the blanket above your shoulders. figuring she could give the little shits a few more minutes, she held you with her eyes closed and let you fall back asleep.

there weren't too many peaceful, quiet mornings since you had given birth and adopted your son, so abby wanted to soak up every quiet moment she could.

the morning sun streamed through the curtains and warmed the sheets on your bodies. abby laid on her back with you on her chest, she hummed lightly as she brushed her fingers through your hair. the serenity put you back to sleep in seconds, making you practically drool into her tank top.

abby placed soft kisses on the top of your head, pressing her nose into your hair to smell your shampoo. she almost fell asleep as well, however, her eyes slowly peaked open when she heard the bedroom door open.

"shhh" abby heard a small voice say, and she quickly closed her eyes to play asleep.

two pairs of small footsteps ran towards your bed, one faster than the other as your baby girl was still learning to walk properly. abby felt the bed sheet tug as your kids climbed onto the bed, attempting to sneak up on the two of you.

abby kept her eyes closed, letting them have their fun, yet she still held you tighter knowing she would miss that quiet moment. suddenly two small bodies jump onto the two of you,

"mama!"

"wake up!"

you were attacked with tickles, waking you up immediately. the laughter ensued quickly, abby joining in on the tickle assault.

"okay! okay! i'm awake!" you called out over the laughter, fighting off little hands that seemed to be already sticky with something. abby stood up from the bed and grabbed both of their little bodies holding them like footballs at her sides. they giggled and kicked at her sides lightly,

"who are these little bed bugs?" she says tickling their bellies as she holds them up. you watch the scene from the bed, soaking in the warm feeling in your chest at the sight of your little family.

"mommy! help! mamas attacking me!" your son called through giggles.

"aw my baby" you teased holding your arms out and abby flops onto the bed with both kids in her arms. they land around you in a thump, adorable giggles filling the room.

your son climbs into your arms as abby pulls you into her and tucks your baby girl into her chest. as much as the two of you loved your quiet moments, these were your favorite.

abby placed a soft kiss onto your forehead and you look up at her, finding her eyes soft.

"i love you" she says, pushing her head forward to brush her nose against yours.

"and i love you" you smile, placing a sweet kiss on her cheek.

"ewwww no kissing!" your sons small voice giggled from your neck,

"no kissing?" you tease and attack him with kisses.

abby laughed as she watched you and your son play, bending her head down to watch your daughter fall back asleep on her chest. it didn't take much for the two of you to decide to lay in bed all day with your sweet kids, soaking in your little family.

those quiet mornings would always be there, but those small sticky fingers wouldn't.

[abby masterlist]

[thefirstromantics]

Teacher!Ellie hcs :3

cw: none i don’t think…

an: guess whose finally back after a while. tbh i probably will disappear again if i can’t come up with anything but oh well!! also this is kinda long soooo

⋆˚꩜｡ teaches sciences but mainly physics, sometimes she will substitute for art if it’s open.

⋆˚꩜｡ always dresses like a little boy and jeans and some random shirt she had which leads her to get stopped in the halls by other teachers asking for her pass.

which leads to a whole explanation of how she actually works there and ends up pulling her id out.

⋆˚꩜｡ likes to keep her door open during lunch and after school incase some kids come stop by either to chat or just hang.

sometimes she’ll get extra excited when you’ll come in after schools over to sit and finish some work.

⋆˚꩜｡ likes to keep music playing in the back when you two are working so that the silence doesn’t make her antsy.

“ellie what the fuck is this?”

you ask putting your pencil down looking at her as some random ass song plays like Ayesha erotica starts.

“what it has catchy lyrics”

⋆˚꩜｡ cannot stand the lunches at the school so she always packs her own, most of the time they consist of a rushed sandwich and a juice box.

after coming into her room and seeing her atrocious lunch you developed a small routine of packing extra vegetables for her so she can get some nutritional value out of the meal.

“the juice box says probiotics in it which means it’s healthy!”

“ellie, sweetie, no.”

sliding a plastic baggie of carrots to her.

⋆˚꩜｡ her students KNOW she has a fat crush on you. once while she was teaching you came in to ask about a schedule and her cheeks got all pink at the way you kept your voice low and soft so you won’t disturb the kids.

after leaving one kid started ooing causing the rest too follow and she grumbled putting her fav in her hands “i’m failing you all”

⋆˚꩜｡ felt honored once when a kid came to her asking them to draw on their converse like how she did because they thought ellie was cool. would not shut up about that for days.

⋆˚꩜｡ keeps her carabiner on all the time with all her keys on it making it very obvious when she’s about to come into your room.

⋆˚꩜｡ on pajama day she brought in her massive bear form ikea and it never came back home, earning itself a place on her rug.

⋆˚꩜｡ once she came bursting into your room complaining about the kids but immediately shut up when she saw you giving her a soft smile, hair tied back messily, with reading glasses propped on your forehead and started to get all flustered.

⋆˚꩜｡ has a problem with accidentally swearing in classes. she would be demonstrating an experiment for the class but when it fails mumbles an “you’re fucking joking” and quickly looking back at the class who all started being over dramatic about it.

“my innocence is gone ms. williams!”

“oh shut it you never had it to begin with daniel”

⋆˚꩜｡ when you offered for her to come back to yours one night for “grading” let’s just say it ended with you two driving to work together, some students definitely asked her about it later causing her to push them out her class.

⋆˚꩜｡ when you two became an established relationship she would only refer to you as “my girlfriend” in classes because she knew her students wouldn’t get off her ass if they knew it was you.

⋆˚꩜｡ once a student came to her panicked about a massive spider in the room and she didn’t want to get it so had to have you pause your work and come in to get it for her.

“you owe me williams.”

you mumbled quietly so no one but her could hear placing a lingering hand on her hip while walking out with the spider in a beaker. stood there frozen for a solid minute already excited to get home to you that night.

⋆˚꩜｡ her white board is dedicated to drawings and doodles her students make her putting them up with magnets and letting them draw during breaks.

⋆˚꩜｡ on her desk she has a jar full of small plastic dinosaurs she’ll give out if the students were good and was once gifted a bag full of tiny babies on her birthday. definitely came to you sobbing about it slurring out some jumbled mess about how she loved her students.

⋆˚꩜｡ two days later she was sat on the couch in you classroom rocking while mumbling “i love my job i love my job i love my job” after a parent yelled at her for talking about the moon landing.