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lambilegs · 19 minutes ago

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I have a request based off of something that happened to me with my gf LMAO but if you could write a Vi and reader having ✨sesbian lex✨ and Vi suddenly gets a phone call. Instead of Stopping Vi covers reader’s mouth and answers the call, chatting normally as she continues to strap reader down and reader is struggling to stay quiet 👁️👁️ thanks pookie!

that's so hot pookie bless so glad u got to have that experience 👁️👁️

+18, mdni, carmech!vi bc i miss her wow

"n-ngh -- vi... r-right there --"

"yeah sweetness? like it when i fuck you right there?"

vi sounds a bit breathless, there's a light quirk to the side of her lips as she works her hips into yours, her strap hitting against a spot inside you that has your vision petering out at the edges. there's a heat curling in the base of your belly that makes your toes curl, your spine bend. you reach for her, sinking your fingers into her tightly corded forearms as she leans down to pin you back.

"fuck -- fuck -- you're so tight, pretty girl -- y'hear how wet you are for me?" she asks, even as you nod, a desperate bob of your head as she hoists your thigh over her hip to drill in all the deeper.

it's saturday afternoon, the air conditioner on full blast, the car garage empty for the heat. it'd been a slow kind of day, the kind where ennui tickles at the summer-stained corners of the imagination, threatening to set in. and when it does... well, there's only one thing for it --

"please, vi -- i'm gonna --"

she lets out a low groan, leaning down to suck a sloppy hickey against your shoulder. even though the pair of you have been together more than a year now, she's still as insatiable as when you'd just met her.

"that's it, c'mon princess -- cum for me, cum all over this strap like the good little girl you --"

the phone rings; her pace stutters.

you keen, squeezing your thighs around her hips, your heels digging into her back as she reaches for her cellphone and frowns down at the caller id. you shake your head vigorously, tugging at her arm.

"vi -- vi -- no don't --" you beg, because there's a dangerous smirk cresting her lips even as she presses a finger to them.

"shh... quiet princess, unless you want someone to hear," she murmurs, before swiping up and pressing the phone to her ear.

"heeeyyy silco, what's up? y'lookin for vander? he's out at a show in kansas -- oh yeah -- sure, we should still be good for dinner -- 7, at the bar, right?" vi rocks her hips down into yours and has to press her palm over your mouth to muffle your squeak.

"huh? no nothing -- just uh --" vi cocks an eyebrow down at you, swirling her hips, the feel of her strap dragging inside you nearly makes your eyes roll back. you clench down around her, biting down hard on your own lips to keep from making noise. she nods her approval before letting go of your mouth and straightening back up, resting her free hand on your hip to hold you still as she tugs back for a particularly hard thrust.

"-- doin' some maintenance work," she chuckles, "some of these screws are in a bit tight," she winks, pulling back and thrusting forward once more, "y'know how things get when they're not... worked out properly once in a while."

you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the coil tighten inside you with every soft shallow thrust of her hips, the tip of the silicon strap nudging up against your g-spot till it's all you can do to keep from falling apart. you scrabble for her wrist, giving her a warning tug as she laughs at something silco says, glancing down at your with dark, blown-out eyes.

"yeah, i know, i know, you've always hated the shop talk -- kay, we'll see you at dinner -- yep, she'll be there too," vi says, before bidding her goodbyes and clicking off her phone. she sets it face down on the bedside table and before returning to the shape of you pinned beneath her.

"f-fuck vi... th-that's not --" you try to force out a coherent sentence, but vi only coos as she reaches down between you to flick playfully at your clit. immediately, your mouth falls open, and you jerk up against her. she laughs.

"mmm... i really do love it when you're tryna keep quiet for me princess..." she says, leaning down to brush her lips against yours. you yank her down for a kiss, fingers fisting in the choppy pink hair at the base of your skull. she groans into the kiss, fucking into you now with the kind of wild abandon you've come to know all too well.

within a minute, she has you shuddering apart, coming hard enough for the world to blink out for a few seconds, the air in your lungs to taste sweet and bitter all at once. she holds you down and chases her own climax, muttering the entire time about how hot you look, how much she loves it when you soak her strap like this. you keen as she collapses into you with a long breath, groaning into the sticky skin of your shoulder.

you run your fingers through her hair.

"really?" you ask, after a few steadying breaths, "a few tight screws?"

vi chuckles, pulling back with a lopsided shrug.

"what? wasn't exactly a lie."

"yeah? you really wanna compare our sex lives to car maintenance?"

vi pulls out and you crinkle your nose at the sudden loss of feeling. she leans down to press a kiss to the side of your knee before reaching for a napkin to wipe you down.

"'s not that different -- good, timely maintenance gets you a good, healthy, long run with your car," she says, tossing the napkin into a bin in the corner before offering you a mug of water. you take a sip before holding the mug up to her lips. she lets you tip some into her mouth, licking her lips as she works the harness off from around her hips.

"thanks princess," she says, leaning forward for a kiss. you watch her pull her tanktop back on, shimmying back into her boxer shorts.

"oh, you're good for dinner at silco's right? at 7?"

you cock an eyebrow, "you mean the dinner you already agreed to for me on the phone right now? while we were fucking?"

vi shoots you a cheeky smile.

"so... 7?"

you roll your eyes, tossing your underwear at her with a huff.

"get me a new pair of panties."

vi laughs, snatching your crumpled up underwear from the air and considers them for a brief second before pressing them into the back pocket of her cargo shorts.

"nah, think i like you without them."

#GOD!!! 😵‍💫#vi x reader #other people's writing <3

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lambilegs · 23 hours ago

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hii hii ! i absolutely adore your writings about lee — would you ever write something about her feeling dysphoric when they’re getting intimate and the reader reassuring her (?)

LEE EXPERIENCING DYSPHORIA WITH READER.

contains: college!au, lee is transmasc, gender dysphoria, mentions of top surgery, hurt/comfort, some intimacy (making out specifically)

note to anon: thank you so so much for this request love <33 I'm sorry it took me forever to get to it, but yeah, I felt so inspired to work on it these past few days. I really love exploring lee's gender through conversation or writing, so I'm definitely interested in writing these kinds of pieces and doing more of them in the future :o

It had been a long time coming.

Lee knew the day would arrive soon, where she’d have to explain to you the extent of her discomfort within her own body. She had hoped that maybe you’d figure it out on your own from her modest, loose-fitting clothing, or the way she had tentatively asked you to stop calling her pretty. But, in the back of her mind, she knew she left the specifics unmentioned enough to warrant you not realizing just how often she tried to ignore her body so that she didn’t spiral into a web of anxiety and hyper awareness of every part that didn’t feel right.

She knew that day would come, but like most things in this regard, the moment seized at her when she least expected it.

You two had been rolling in the bed of her dorm, making out languidly – an activity she had come to really, really enjoy. As embarrassing as it is to admit, she had skipped four classes these past two weeks just to indulge in heavy kissing with you in the early hours of the morning. While she was disappointed in her own lack of discipline as of late, she can’t say she’s all that surprised. Though she wasn’t isn’t the most experienced when it came to intimacy, she had delved enough into it to know that despite her reservations and discomfort around the topic, her sex drive was beyond high. All it took was for someone patient enough to wring it out of her. Someone like you.

Your hips had swivelled in slow, careful circles, pressing into the packer under her sweats and making her moan softly into your mouth. Her own hands were greedily roaming along your body, rubbing at your tummy, scratching lightly at your back, groping your ass in that way she had come to learn made you keen. Her mind was softened into nothing but sludge, malleable and filled with nothing but the feeling, image and thought of you.

Until your hands had roamed along her chest, squeezing gently.

Immediately, she squirms under you, instinctively trying to escape the touch, her stomach dropping into a low pit. She hadn’t gotten the chance to bind in the morning due to an early exam, and had purposely worn an extra large hoodie just to conceal the shape of her. In your company, the creeping sense of awareness had faded into background noise, but now, it was surging back into her brain at full force. And all her mind was honed in on was that part you had touched. The part that didn’t belong to her, that felt foreign and detached, but still, by some twist of fate, lodged onto her and unable to be fully parted from.

And now, your eyes widen in concern, darting all over her face. Now, laced into her anxiety and dread, was guilt. She should have told you all this earlier. She should have warned you. Because now, you look scared for her, and she doesn’t like that look on your face. She doesn’t like being the one to cause it, she doesn’t like being a burden.

Shakily, she braces her palms on the mattress, pulling herself into a sitting position, slowly enough so that you can adjust in her lap.

Once she’s leaning on her bed frame, you squeeze her shoulders, muttering, “What just happened?”

She can barely even look you in the eye, her own pinpointed to her bookshelf. Shame and guilt course through her, whirling deep in her gut. Why did she have to be this way? Why did things have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t she just… be?

She wants to ignore what happened, she really does. She dislikes being the person who asks for care, for favours, for thoughtfulness. Being the one depended on – that’s the comfortable realm for her. It was always like that with her mom, her friends, and that’s what she’s been most at ease with with you. Asking to be tended to and considered is beyond her usual capabilities.

But, you’re looking at her with wide, imploring eyes. Your fingers are fidgeting with the drawstrings of her hoodie. Your breaths are just as short and trembling as hers. You’re worried. And for good reason, considering her own mind can’t stop hyperfocusing on what you just touched.

Maybe you both need this moment of openness from her. Even if it’s difficult.

“Sorry, I, uh – I should have told you before, but I don’t like being touched there. It makes me uncomfortable.”

There. Out and in the open. Released from the cage of her mouth, lodged in the air between you two. It makes it more real. It’s one thing to internally be aware of just how acutely this discomfort, this dysphoria, impacts her on a day to day life. But, to admit it to you and breathe the words from her mouth to your ears, it feels sharp and real and vivid. It yanks the truth into her reality, right at the forefront. It forces her to acknowledge what she usually tries to avoid lingering on. What she’s often too afraid to linger on. Not only because to fall into this spiral is a fearsome thing to behold. But, she’s afraid that this tender, soft thing she’s built with you will change. And she can’t have it change. She wants it too much.

Tentatively, she looks up at you. The anxiety of the moment is so prominent that the hyperawareness pinpointed to her own body fades to the background for a moment. “Is that, um– is that okay?”

Your eyes, which had been lowered to your lap, immediately flick up to hers, bulging and alert. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Her mouth twists, something rising in her chest, tight and heavy. “I don’t know. It’s not easy.”

“That’s not true,” you immediately protest, taking her long fingers in your grasp. “Respecting what you want, and need – it’s never going to be hard for me. And I want to do it for you – do right by you. No matter how much adjusting or practicing I have to do. I don’t care.”

It almost feels wrong to be so easily and wholly accepted, without any strings. She opens her mouth, then closes it, before saying in a low tone, “I don’t want you to make some sort of exception for me. I want this to be something you want too.”

“Something I want..?”

“Me.” She looks away. “Being like this.”

“Being like what?” you gently coax, cupping her jaw. “Having certain ways you do and don’t want to be touched? I’d want to respect that with anyone. And doing that isn’t a big deal.” After a pause, you add in a hurried string of words, “Not because I make light of what you deal with. I just mean to respect it and consider it, and act based on that – like, it’s not a drag for me, you know? I want to do that. Not just because you’re my girlfriend. But, because you’re a person who deserves that.”

A person who deserves that. She knows, in all technical senses, she is a person who deserves that. She’d do the same for anyone else regardless of her relation to them, and would do so simply due to the fact that anything but would be disrespectful and distasteful and unjust. So, then, why does it feel like so much to ask the same for herself? Why does it feel like a burden she’s now transferred to you? Maybe it’s just that she’s never used to asking for anything for herself, even if it’s something she knows she deserves. Maybe it’s just that she still finds it easier to avoid her own needs rather than acknowledge just how fast her body is changing the older she grows. Just how rapidly she’s discovering new things that she spent her life filing away into a box just so she didn’t have to deal with the enormity of how foreign her own body is to her. How foreign the terms “woman” and “girl” are, and how dresses and blush and so many of the things expected of her were just… not her.

“Thank you,” she feebly says, unsure of how to respond under the earnest weight of your words. Not to mention the guilt still heavy in her guts.

Your thumb strokes mindlessly at the dry patch of skin under her eye, and she feels a slight shiver creep up her spine from the touch. Even in such a vulnerable moment, you still have her wrapped around your finger.

“You don’t need to thank me. And I’m sorry for, like, touching there without asking first. I should have asked.”

No, no. She doesn’t want you apologizing. “You didn’t know.”

“All the more reason I should’ve asked.” Your lips pinch together, and she immediately recognizes the sign of contemplation. “I’m sorry.”

She knows you. You’re just as stubborn as she is, and you won’t take keenly to her dismissing your apology. You’re always saying how she needs to let herself be treated better. You’re probably right, she just isn’t sure she’s ready to absorb that. With it, comes acknowledging how many people have done the opposite. People she was once close to.

Sighing, she murmurs, “It’s alright.”

You fiddle with her fingers for a few more moments before muttering, “Why don’t you tell me more about it? If you’re comfortable.”

“Maybe another night. It’s already been… a lot to explain this.”

“That’s okay too,” you softly say, tracing the lines of her hand. You’ve asked her to get them read before. She can’t help but wonder just how gently you’d handle her body one day in the future, tracing the hypothetical lines of the scars under her chest.

“Thanks. For understanding.” It embarrasses her to say something so soft, so emotional, but she’s learned if she doesn’t communicate these things, no one will ever know just how much gratitude she holds.

“Thank you for giving me a chance to.”

Lee leans her head onto your shoulder. She knows with time, she’ll be giving you more and more chances to learn her, to learn who she truly is. It’s an intimidating prospect, but today, you eased some of the fear. You’ve relaxed some of the nerves and she feels like perhaps, she can just lean on you tonight and let you understand her. And maybe with practice, it’ll all get easier.

#s.writing #lee harker #lee harker x reader #lee harker fanfiction #longlegs (2024)#longlegs

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