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[literallydontknowdontcare]

read this fanfic if you are an elizabeth lail/beck enthusiast. literally so fucking good can't stop rereading

fille blonde à paris

description: guinevere beck isn’t looking for relationships. she’s enjoying france, too busy with writing. basking in the glory of her insanely successful pieces of literature. then you find her, and you’re such such a beautiful distraction.

warnings: a claustrophobic amount of fluffy fluff, an american’s horrible attempt at france living and french translation, a plethora of kissing, brief masturbation

pairings: guinevere beck x fem!reader

word count: 5001

a/n: i’ve had my hands on this little fic for a while, let’s see how ms. guinevere beck does! beck train, choo choo!

reblogging and liking is greatly appreciated!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

you’d met beck in paris at the local coffee shop across the street from the bookstore she’d occupied herself in with book signing.

the local shop happened to just be a coffee shop you owned.

after her long day and afternoon beck walked into the shop in hopes of some relaxation and more writing, or typing as she would do.

funnily enough, you had no clue who the girl was. simply thinking she was a pretty girl that looked completely out of place in the popular but comfy café shop.

in hopes of not disturbing the hard-working blonde, who hadn’t ordered a single thing since she walked into the shop about an hour ago; you walk up to her calmly with a subtle lavender macaron in hand.

something peacefully sweet as she appeared, if that was something you could even say.

you had evidently startled her as the preoccupied girl grasps at her chest, exhaling a little gasp.

nonetheless, she beams dazzlingly with relaxed eyes, a small hint of drear hazing inside her blue irises.

she looked truly exhausted.

"i apologize, you’ve been here for a while and haven’t ordered anything. so i thought i might bring a little something?"

you hand the small brown bag over and she takes it gently. her hold on the bag was almost as soft as the sound of her delicate voice.

"thank you, that’s kind of you! i’m sorry are you about to close up? i don’t want to be a bother."

you're quick to reassure.

"we’re 24 hours, you’re welcome here. stay for as long as you need."

guinevere beck shines one of her heartwarming smiles, eyes twinkling.

with that you walk away, leaving the pretty girl on her own accord. occasionally, fellow customers walk into the shop and leave out with their orders in hand.

but she’s still sitting there.

with quite a strange look on her face, as if she’s thinking, or puzzled about something.

just as you turn to clean off the counter and look back there she is standing in front of you. her attention on the menu perched high above your head.

she appears even more stumped than earlier.

you realize momentarily that the entire menu is completely in french.

"ugh, i’m so sorry. i come to your country and can’t even speak nor understand the language."

the girl speaks in an expressive whisper.

the frustrated look on her face is quite adorable. you don’t think about that for long, not wanting to be outlandish.

"it’s fine! i have a translated one. i wasn’t aware you were a foreigner, you seem so comfortable here."

that is a lie, but you’d rather make her feel better about the unfamiliar area.

"really? i feel so misplaced. i’ve come here to vacation but my manager managed to sneak a book signing up on me."

you laugh and the girl sends a playful gaze over your way.

about three hours have passed of endless conversation with the girl who you recently found out is named guinevere.

like the legendary queen consort.

although she makes it very clear that she prefers beck.

“just beck, please.”

she huffs and you could only imagine why.

“i mean, my parents were assholes with the naming. everyone just calls me beck.”

her distraught explanation is entertaining to you, you’ve never met someone with such a unique name that despises it as deeply as she does.

"so yeah! i’m here for six months to grab inspiration for my next book. i like it here, everyone is so kind."

that makes you smile, hopefully, she thinks you’re kind too.

against your better judgment, you lock up the coffee shop with a simple note of arrival later.

beck’s words flow intricately yet in a way that doesn’t make her sound too profesoresqe.

she talks of all things but to you, they sound of only the most interesting of things.

beck grew up absolutely adoring poems, she’d write small ones and reminisced how her innocent mind pondered in every moving and living creature.

the american blonde spends her time searching all places for inspiration, even you can see that her attention to her surroundings has paid off greatly.

she’s filled with beliefs, bringing you to the actualization of things you never needed to think about.

the two of you even get into a playful argument about whether orange juice or apple juice is preferable. eventually, you give in to the competitive girl.

you’re too caught up in your conversation with guinevere beck to stop and it’s come to some point when you finally realize you’ve both stopped at a cute studio downtown.

assumingly, this is where beck is staying.

you can’t help but feel anguished. this means goodbye, your conversation must end now.

"well, this is me."

beck sways with the cool late paris air, strands of her blonde hair blowing prettily against the evening breeze.

"it was nice to meet you, ms. guinevere beck."

the blonde blushes, but hopes you’ll blame it on the extra blow of wind.

you don’t.

"it was nice to meet you too."

you wave goodbye, with not a single swap of contacts from one another. only her name and the small pieces of information you do know about her.

beck gladly opposes the way the entire exchange is inevitably ending, so she takes matters into her own hands.

calling out to you, while clutching her body nervously. she feels a sudden emptiness that she isn’t quite used to as you make a move to walk your own separate way.

beck was here to sign books and vacation, not to flirt with strangers. she has to remind herself, but she’s glad when you turn her way; hearing the small whisper as she says your name.

almost as if you were waiting for her to call you over.

you’re a complete stranger, no matter how friendly you may seem. beck doesn’t think about all of the dangers, just the swarm in her heart at the conversation the two of you shared.

she wants more.

for some reason you didn’t feel so strange, not when she’d told you her childhood stories and awkward teen problems.

beck can’t let you go now, she’s gotten too attached and you’re the perfect distraction.

"why don’t you come in? i’d love to show off some of my work. i can’t have you walking back all alone and lonely either."

you’re nearly jumping for joys as beck allows you in.

her studio is cute and tiny in a cozy way. your eyes immediately settle on the living room couch with cute beige throw pillows, a single green one lays awkwardly.

the lights are dimmed perfectly and your eyes bounce off of all the many furnishings that adorn the place.

"i thought why not make it like home, i’ll be here for some time anyways."

beck is clearly a reader from not only what you’ve both talked about but the books neatly tucked in dark oak bookcases.

"it’s cushy, i love it."

your fingers trail the spines of each colorful book and beck observes you curiously.

"any of your favorites in there?"

beck questions, two fingers pressed against her lips while she leans against the couch.

your response follows immediately.

"you have all of shirley jackson’s most notable works here."

"oh, you’re familiar with her. is she popular here?"

you turn to a very inquisitive beck, she’s sat on her couch now.

"i’m originally from paris, but i moved to california throughout my tween years for junior high. then, i decided to move back. i guess i felt homesick-”

“my middle school teacher forced us to read the lottery, it was so morbid and strange to me then that i fell in love with her works."

beck grins, biting her lip.

you wish to bite her lip too.

“so would you say you’re an avid shirley jackson fan?”

you smile, looking away to hide your absurd content of beck.

“yeah, something like that.”

there’s a silence in the room that causes you to look back at beck. she’s holding a copy of the lottery in her hand, scribbling words into it.

you hadn’t even heard her get up from the sofa through all your staring at her collection of books.

beck saunters over to you slowly, book in hand. she slides it into your open satchel. it fits nice and snugly, like it belongs there.

"keep that, and don’t look at it until you’re at home."

the pretty blonde stands so close that you’re able to see each freckle that stamps over her features. you count each one, in hopes that your heart stops beating so quickly.

involuntarily, your eyes slip to her pink lips after a couple of late seconds they finally flicker back up. you can tell beck notices but she doesn’t seem to care, you watch her do the same thing.

eyes at your lips then back to your eyes, repeating that process twice more.

beck is the first to lean in. her blue eyes subtly turning to a more greenish-blue hue that you find yourself easily getting lost in.

you take the time to gauge her reaction, even with everything happening so fast. she gives you one last look before closing the small space between the two of you, and relief washes over you as her soft lips touch yours.

a subtle shutter rakes through beck’s body, you can feel it, listening closely to the desperate sounds she makes with your lips on hers.

while beck does look innocent, she holds her weight. it’s like the two of you are fighting for the crown of dominance, you can’t tell who is winning.

beck’s teeth gently bite at your lips, and her confidence reels you in. your hands wander to deepen the kiss in your own way.

her waist fits comfortably in your hold as if she belongs like this, in this exact space and time.

beck’s lips hover slightly over yours, as she pulls away for a small breather. you can feel her warm breath, she tastes sweet on your tongue.

not candy-sweet, not pastry-sweet, and not even syrup sweet. she has her own taste, something exotic that you can’t put your finger on.

just as you anticipated.

when things seem to go farther than you prefer at the time, you slowly pull away.

turning beck down the nicest way you can, no matter how dissatisfied you feel when her lips are gone.

you leave your hand resting on her red-tinted cheeks, beck peers at you. you’re relieved when she doesn’t look offended.

“i’m sorry-“

beck tries to say but you’re already apologizing.

“no, it’s not you. i just don’t want to take advantage of you. can i maybe take you out to a bar? get to know you?”

“i’d like that.”

two fingers are again pressed against beck’s lips, a habit you’re learning that she does often. for extra measure, you’re lips are back on beck’s for a quick peck.

a gesture that should be inappropriate for people who’ve only just met, but you feel some odd connection to the american blonde.

it’s late, very late by the time you and beck make it to the bar. you’re familiar with the owner, so without reservations, the two of you slip right in.

it wouldn’t have been a problem anyways, the bar isn’t filled with many people and you can comfortably hear beck over the music.

“i feel underdressed.”

the pretty girl frowns and while you can agree with her, both of you are quite underdressed. you’re wearing a black shirt that happens to look the slightest bit dressy, and the first pair of pants you could bother putting on before work.

while beck looks wonderfully herself in a black shirt fitted underneath a clean red blazer, alongside a matching pencil skirt which brings out the rosy color of her cheeks and the sultry red of the lipstick prodded on her lips.

now that you analyze the girl fully, you realize she doesn’t look underdressed much at all.

her care for her appearance makes you smile.

“you look beautiful, and besides no one will care. enjoy yourself, you need it.”

beck grins at your genuine compliment, lifting a glass of dark wine to her lips. you watch the deep red liquid trickle at her lips as she purses them to drink.

“you’re too kind for your own good.”

you’re not surprised even for a second when the conversation changes to one of beck’s life, as if it wasn’t something the two of you were talking about for the past few hours in your bakery.

truly, you are intrigued by the american girl.

“do you live far from your bakery?”

beck questions, you’ve quickly realized how much eye contact she holds when conversing with you. like she’s hanging onto every word carefully as you speak.

“i actually live above it.”

“oh! so a duplex?”

“yes, yes. a duplex.”

beck is excited at her correct guess.

the two of you are a little over tipsy by the time it’s decided to leave the bar. what was supposed to only be one, or two glasses of wine turned into much more than you’d like to think about.

you feel as though you could talk to beck forever, and although that could honestly be the buzz of the alcohol talking you’d like to think it’s not.

beck thinks the same as she invites you into her studio once again.

you sit on her couch and she sits with you, after about a minute or two you find beck’s legs resting on top of your lap. you don’t mind at all, just focusing on the conversation at hand and the way her lips meet when she chats.

or how her eyes twinkle from the dim lighting of the minimal darkness.

beck is pretty, but you’ve known that for some time now.

“he thought i was bluffing and unfortunately for him, i wasn’t.”

beck recalls, cackling about an unfortunate circumstance with a past professor. you find amusement in her words too, with how flawlessly they fall from her tongue.

there’s a warm silence but after a while, you finally respond.

“i’m happy you’ve found your place in this world.”

you say randomly and you don’t miss the crook of beck’s eyebrow as she eyes you with confusion.

“you’re doing what you love, you didn’t let creepy professors stop you. it’s inspiring.”

you add, staring at beck’s hefty book collection and zoning out just a little.

“is everyone from france such a sweet talker or is that just you?”

the blonde tilts her head to the side, curled strands of hair falling into her face. beck’s eyebrows raise in a playful, flirtatious gesture.

“just me.”

“i should’ve known.”

beck finds her place in your lap, you don’t push her away this time. you’re a little more confident, and you want this even more badly than the first time.

you cup beck’s cheek in your hand, and she sighs deeply into your mouth when your lips connect.

soft and delicate.

you allow her tongue to roam into your mouth when she’s ready.

beck wastes no time and admittedly, you’re not mad about it. she’s very handsy, her fingers reach to pull at your collar and she’s moving your hands to rest on her sheer tight covered legs.

“i like you a lot.”

beck mumbles over your lips, licking over her slightly swollen ones.

“i like you too.”

“are you sure you’re not just saying that to spare my feelings?”

“no never.”

it’s like the two of you are playing tag, with flickering eyes darting to each other’s lips and back. one waiting for the other to submit to their desire of the other first.

your hand remains caressing beck’s thigh and her arms wrap around your neck to bring herself closer.

you meet her halfway but beck is already on your lips first, pressing her mouth against yours in a soft yet heated embrace.

just as quickly as beck had pulled in, you grow intoxicated in her kiss and only wanting more. just as you begin to deepen the kiss, grasping beck’s fabric-covered skin in your delicate touch, she pulls away.

a mischievous smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“gotcha.”

beck teases, her blue-green eyes sparkling with amusement.

you can only muster up a defeated laugh, shaking your head in dazed disbelief.

“such a tease.”

you say, already leaning in for her sweet taste again.

beck snickers, her cheeks pinched, and eyes locked on yours in a passionate tension-filled gaze.

“I know,”

she shrugs.

“but it's more fun that way.”

With that, she pulled him in for another kiss, this time holding on a little longer before pulling away again, a playful glint in her eye.

but before she’s able to say anything more you’ve already got her entrapped.

the tension between you two only grows thicker. you listen closely for those perfect sounds that come from out of her lips.

she moans softly, beck’s hands caressing your face as you deepen the kiss. you wrap your arms around her, pulling her closer as your tongues dance together in a heated embrace.

for just a moment, the two of you lose yourselves in the pure intensity of the kiss, bodies pressed together in passion.

you taste her sweet taste, cloudy with the bittersweet wine. beck moans softly against your lips, a sound that only fuels your want for her.

as the kiss comes to an end, you pull away slowly.

with a coy smile, you whisper;

“your turn.”

leaving beck hanging just as she’d left you, desperate and wanting more while she toyed with you.

beck settles back onto your lap, eyes locked on yours like she’s still not ready to let up the lip-lock wars.

surprisingly after that, you don’t end up in beck’s bed.

that doesn’t mean she doesn’t heavily insist.

“it’s a king-sized bed, i don’t want you to be uncomfortable in here.”

beck pleads, hugging herself over her white hotel robe. curled blonde hair tossed from the earlier movements, her cheeks and nose haven’t yet simmered of their color.

through the night, beck and you have gotten relatively close. you feel content with her, and based on the fact that the blonde is naked under her robe you can assume that the same goes for her.

beck saunters over to you, standing above as you sit on her couch with a light blanket in hand.

“i’ll be fine, i promise. get some sleep.”

“you can always crawl in if you change your mind, i’ll leave the door open.”

“okay, goodnight beck.”

you miss the disappointed look on beck’s face as she bites her lip out of frustration. she’d kissed you over a thousand times yet you won’t step foot in her room.

beck understands your boundaries are solely out of respect as you’ve said, but she wants nothing more than for you to disrespect her.

no matter what that may consist of.

it’s not your intention to leave beck frustrated but supposedly you do. you’re fast asleep, whiles she’s giving herself muffled climax after muffled climax.

you don’t hear beck in her bedroom riding the little green pillow she’d stolen from the couch, with bangs sticking to her forehead from exertion.

her pleas of pleasure like desperate whimpers as she rocks back in forth, chasing something that she believes you should be giving her.

beck covers her mouth with one hand, the other fisting at her blankets for stability. underwear left on and sticky, a feeling she craved of the extra friction.

whine after whine, gasp after gasp.

it wasn’t like she was waiting for you to fuck her into the mattress, that wasn’t the case. but it’s been some while since she’s had an intimate touch, and the shadow of your lips from earlier was not helping to damper that need.

the pleasure beck gives herself knocks her right into slumber, it’s easily one of the best naps she’s gotten in a while.

beck knows it’s because she has company but the girl would never admit that, not even to herself.

church bells ring, birds begin singing their songs, and the city awakens with the chatter of people commuting their way to work and school.

the smell of croque madam floods the senses of your nose; awakening you and as your eyes fall open, beck’s pretty eyes are the first thing to unblur in your sight.

she speaks softly to the point where hearing her voice is like hearing the gentle seine river and its delicate lapping.

“i’m not really a good cook, not really a good cook at all actually. i tried researching french breakfast, i didn’t want to get all stereotypical but i think i ended up just confusing myself.”

beck rants, sipping out of a cute little green mug. nearly the same shade as the pillow she quickly snatched from the couch.

you’re handed the plate of delicious-smelling food, nothing appears to be wrong with it. nothing besides the fact that it looks homemade, the touch of some sloppiness is cute to you.

you can tell the blonde tried and that warms your heart.

“you don’t have to eat it, i thought you might be hungry.”

the fork is already inside of your mouth as beck speaks, you chew, savoring her use of flavors.

“it’s great, thank you. really beck, taste amazing.”

“i realized halfway through cooking that you literally own a bakery. you could work more magic than i think i ever could in the kitchen.”

you take another forkful of the familiar dish, getting a mouthful of the lightly toasted brioche bread followed by slightly overdone eggs and savory ham.

the food is still warm like you’d woken up at just the perfect time. it’s good and you silently finish the portion beck had given you.

“you should be more confident with your cooking beck.”

you throw her a piece of advice and she smiles.

silence fills the living room and you’re suddenly made aware of your bareness.

hardened nipples pressed against your white undershirt, made visible by the thin material. you’d forgotten to put your bra back on, finding it too uncomfortable at some point throughout the night.

your phone rest on a little stand, a charger plugged into the device. you smile up at beck, she’s already looking at you.

“thank you.”

“no problem.”

you’re checking the time on your phone, you’ve woken up earlier than usual.

6:37

which is a pleasant surprise considering how late you’d fallen asleep last night after bar-partying and lip-locking with beck, watching half a movie smushed somewhere through the time.

feeling like you’ve overstayed your welcome, you frown.

reality sets in, you have to get back to work at some point. your workers can’t cover for you forever, and you can’t take beck away from her endless writing for too much longer.

it’s like she’s read your mind, but your emotions are evident and beck is good at putting two and two together.

“have to get back?”

“i’m afraid so, i’ve got like thirty missed calls.”

you muster up a sad laugh.

“well, i’ll walk you over.”

beck says, as if you’re unfamiliar with the town but in all actuality you know it like the back of your hand.

you return your missed calls on the way back to the bakery, your hand finding beck’s at some point so she doesn’t feel too ignored.

“oui papa, i know…d’accord, i’m on my way.”

you huff as you hang up your phone. beck looks over at you, neglecting the scenery her eyes were once fixated on.

“everything okay?”

beck questions, trying to not intrude. you’ve known her long enough to not take it that way.

“just my parents. i think they thought i’d gotten kidnapped.”

“i stole you away.”

beck hums.

“you did.”

you smile, playfully.

the trees sway as the harsh winds push past them, awaiting the rain that will eventually fall sooner or later. leaving a muggy and wet paris day meaning more customers will welcome themselves into your bakery.

seldom heavy rain, not particularly weather you care for but weather you’ve grown accustomed to.

“does your accent always change when you speak to others?”

beck questions, pointing out randomly.

“maybe a little, i think. my parents have been saying i’ve been americanized, so i try to speak french more with them. they pick on me.”

you laugh, giving beck’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“tell me some words.”

beck requests curiously.

the rest of the walk to your bakery is spent teaching beck some much-needed french terminology. her pronunciation is not great, but it’s cute and you find amusement in teasing her about it.

you open the doors for beck, allowing her in first. not realizing your parents are standing near the counter, staring at the girl you’ve brought inside their bakery.

your mother is the first to speak up.

beck can’t understand a thing your parents are saying, and you’re glad because your father spends a good five minutes scolding you.

as if you were a child.

then your mother’s eyes land on beck.

she reverts to english immediately, skipping to address the daughter that they’d just spoken to. it’s obvious to her too how out of place beck looks in france.

“hello love, are you a friend of our daughter?”

our daughter? is that any way to address your child?

beck glances at you, then steps over to shake the hand of your mother.

“hello, yes. i’m guinevere, nice to meet you.”

the drag of every other word is amusing enough to put a smile on your face. she nearly sings her hello.

“such a pretty american girl.”

your mother says, more to you and your father than beck.

“mère s'il te plaît.”

you plead, pulling beck away from your overbearing mother.

“oh, hush. i’m just being kind. save the extremities, no need for the french. let the girl understand what you’re saying.”

of course, your mother is one to scold you for something she’d done not even five minutes ago.

you look at your father, a silent plea for him to take your mother and leave.

“okay, we know she’s alive. everything is all good here.”

with a gentle kiss on beck’s, and your cheek. your overbearing mother is out of the bakery, which you’re glad about.

“i’m so sorry.”

you apologize, wiping the kiss your mother pecked upon beck’s cheek.

beck finds this incredibly funny.

“it’s fine, they love you and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

you don’t bring up much more about your family, considering beck’s situation with her parents in fear that she’ll feel the shocks of grief that any rational person would experience.

“i have my mom, but we don’t talk anymore.”

“my dad is dead.”

two things she’s told you over her own volition of drinking at the bar.

the poor girl is practically an orphan.

“can i grab you anything? tea, coffee, hot chocolate?”

beck’s face lights up.

“oh! i know that one, i’ll have the…chocolat chaud.”

she overly enunciates her last words carefully with bright blue eyes that twinkle with the sharpest tinge of grey.

“good girl, you catch on fast!”

you utter absentmindedly, working behind the counter. not catching the hitch in beck’s breath at the nickname.

at expert speed, you whip up a full mug of thick, rich french hot chocolate.

“looks so good.”

beck says, eying the cup of hot chocolate. skimming over each little swirl of whipped cream and a handful of marshmallows.

you click your tongue with disapproval as beck picks up the mug with two hands. she quickly puts the dish down, her eyes on yours.

peering at you like a child that had gotten into trouble.

“use the spoon, i promise it’ll taste better.”

beck obeys, scooping the thick liquid into her mouth.

a moan leaves her lips.

you feel rightfully accomplished.

“good?”

you question, as a boost for your ego.

“it’s amazing.”

while beck downs her french hot chocolate you speak, allowing her to fully delve into the warm treat you’d given her. she hangs onto each and every one of your words, holding her familiar deep eye contact.

she’s finished in a short matter of time, leaving her lips tasting of rich chocolate.

which you’re more than eager to kiss, but you let the temptation subside.

“okay, i desperately want to get out of these clothes. want to stay here? or come with?”

beck follows you into your duplex without even as little as a second. her hand in yours, and for a good while she’s completely at a loss for words as she looks around.

you place your satchel down on your couch, opening it to fish out the book beck had given you.

she’s laughing at you, and your enthusiasm.

“that’s pretty much useless now.”

beck says, watching as you flip through the first few pages.

a neon pink sticky note plastered on the fifth blank page. beck’s phone number written on it.

“xxx-xxx-xxxx call me ;)”

is all it says, and you’re grabbing your phone to dial the numbers into it. it’s difficult for beck to contain her amusement, she’s hanging on a thread to contain her laughter.

she plays along as you dial in her number, beck’s phone chimes with your contact and she picks up.

you hold your phone to your ear and beck does the same.

“thank you for the number, ms. guinevere beck.”

then you’re hanging up and walking over to the american blonde, you can’t tell if she’s speechless or simply isn’t bothering to talk.

you press your lips against hers, and it’s a delight how smoothly her lips move with yours.

like a puzzle piece that adores clichés.

you really do like guinevere beck.

and she really likes you too.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[literallydontknowdontcare]

if you are seeing this and you're and editor: MORE AMY EDITS NEOWWWWWWWW

lesbianism is a disease because why am i watching dead of summer just to see elizabeth lail covered in blood

this show is like a train wreck i can’t look away from

[literallydontknowdontcare]

your fanfics are literal heaven 🤭

when i tell you i made a sim of vanessa and based her traits of your fic version of her, I AM NOT KIDDING

THANK YOU, BABE!! When I tell you I ran to my PS to create a Vanessa sim... that's so smart. Also, there are so many creators on TikTok who post cutesy lil headcanons of Vanessa that are perfect to add to both fanfictions AND sims ;)

[literallydontknowdontcare]

I’m literally BEGGING a Vanessa x fem!reader where Vanessa gets jelly and it ends up in rough/angry sex

You DO Own Me

Vanessa Shelly/Afton x Fem Reader

PLUS this request: “Can we get Vanessa fucking y/n roughly? Like pulling hair, biting neck and scratching back type of rough?”

a/n: yessir 😜 merged this request with another anon as they coincide… sorry for the delay in fics. I am still sick but that not my excuse: my excuse is I'm lazy lol. This may be shit, sorry ;')

Content/Warnings: Top/Rough Vanessa, Bottom sub reader, smut, choking, strap use [r receiving], rough sex, not proofread/edited, Vanessas kind of an asshole but that's hot

w/c: 2024

The ride home was silent. Well, not completely. Though Vanessa was extremely unimpressed, her lips pressed together and her hands gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turned white, you were having the time of your life. Under the influence of alcohol, you were giddy and chatty, oblivious to your girlfriend's simmering anger beside you.

“And I literally told Mike that he was insane for thinking those robots cut him in his sleep, but of COURSE he decided to ignore me and continued to take those pills. I mean, really? The poor man is half asleep most of the time!”, you huff, recalling your last shift. “What do you think?”, you turn to Vanessa, your half dazed, half-blushed face informing her that you really did have no idea that she was mad.

“Mm”, she replied, uninterested. You, again, didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. “I know! Maybe I should replace them with some melatonin gummies.. He probably wouldn’t notice”, you giggle, rolling down the front window to breathe. Fanning yourself, the alcohol making you overheated, you gaze at the stars outside in awe. The outdoors really does hit differently when you’re drunk. Unbeknownst to you, Vanessa was seconds from snapping. Pulling into the driveway of your shared home and parking her personal vehicle beside her cop car, she immediately stepped outside as soon as the gas turned off and slammed the door shut, ignoring your own door and walking to the front of the house. You frown, beginning to zone back in.

“Maybe she just forgot”, you think, in reference to her not racing to open your door or offering to carry you inside as she usually would. Stumbling out of the car, you follow behind her into the house. “Vanessa?”, you ask aloud, wondering where she disappeared to in the span of two seconds. Pausing, you try to listen for any footsteps around the house for any indication of her location. Nothing. “Vanessa? Baby?”, you repeat, concerned now. Half limping, you shrug off your jacket and kick off your heels, wandering around the house. Finally, in the corner of your eye, you see the upstairs office light getting turned on.

Sprinting up the stairs, going as fast as your tipsy body would allow you to, you head for the office. Before you could open the door you heard a mumbling sound. Cracking the door open, you witness your girlfriend pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance, talking to someone on the phone.

“Yes, yes. I understand. I just thought- no thank you. I’ll be alright. Sorry for the misunderstanding”, Vanessa answered someone on the line, grinding her teeth when she saw you enter. “Thank you. Have a good one”, she hung up the phone, turning away from you and leaning against the desk.

“Vanessa? What’s wrong?”, you whisper. She snorted.

“What? Now you notice?”, she spits, still not turning around.

You bit your lip, anxious at her reply. “What was the phone call about?”

“Work. Nothing for you to worry about”, she then laughs. “Not that you were, to begin with”. She leans over the desk, reaching for a pen and paper to jot something down, and you try to not let your mind race with thoughts of her rolling her hips forward as you can tell she needs comfort right now, not a horny girlfriend.

You walk towards her nervously. “Are you okay baby? You were fine in the car-”

She snaps at you. “No. I wasn’t. If you weren’t so lightweight you would know that”. Stillness filled the air, the only noise coming from the scribbles of the pen as Vanessa jotted down the information from the phone call.

Coming up behind her, you gently place your hand on the back of her arm. “Is this- is this about Mike?”, you watch her jaw clench from the side. Blinking in surprise, you reiterate. “It is? Isn’t it?”

“Drop it”, Vanessa scowls, shoving herself off the table. Your foggy brain couldn’t help but think ‘muscle memory’ with the way she practically ground against it in annoyance.

“Are you serious? He’s a respectful guy! His old crush means nothing”, you protest.

“Nothing? You make me sick”

“What do you want from me? For me to spit on him and never talk to him again?”, you snap, frustrated now.

She crosses her arms. “Preferably”, she snickers. She comes closer to you. “Or maybe you like the attention? Hm?”

You pull away, hurt. You’d like to believe she was drunk saying this, but she was completely sober. “Vanessa-”

“Poor you, huh? Do I not give you enough attention? Is my poor baby always so needy”, she mocked, snarling.

You blink away tears and begin to walk out of the office when you feel a gust of wind and a sudden thud against your back. Gasping, you slam into the wall, your head narrowly missing the collision. Before you could turn around, you felt Vanessa pin your hands behind your back, her cuffs clenching around your wrists and shutting with a loud ‘click’.

“What the fuck Van-FUCK”, your sentence gets cut off as you hear a loud smack; Vanessa had just hit your ass. You feel numb for a few seconds, and then everything after that. You whine out, trying to cover yourself as she grabs your cuffed wrists and pins them above your head, her other hand coming around your waist to arch your back towards her. “Always whining. Never taking what I give you”. She slaps you again, the force of her hand biting your skin, surely leaving red marks that would turn purple tomorrow. You bite your lip, pain, and pleasure fighting to take over your emotions. You settle on both and she digs into your scalp, raising you up to her. You whimper out as she turns your head to the side and begins to suck at the front of your neck. Your life flashes before your eyes; having to walk in tomorrow at Freddy’s, a hickey so prominent that any efforts to hide it with makeup make it look evening trashier, and Mike seeing exactly what she did to you. You never understood her anger when it came to Mike; she liked him well enough. You just were never allowed to talk to him, apparently.

“Vanessa, please”, you whisper as she bites the side of your neck, pain seeping in. Squirming, she finally releases you. You flop against the wall, breathing heavily as she stares you down.

“Look at you”, she hisses. Everything about Vanessa commanded respect. Not one part of her demonstrated sex except for her slightly flushed cheeks and large pupils. Her hair was perfectly in place, her shirt was properly ironed. You, on the other hand, were tied up, beaten, and most definitely not commanding respect. It was exactly how Vanessa liked it on days like this.

She leans forward, tangling her hands gently in your hair. She tugs on your strands gently, lulling you into a false sense of security as you close your eyes, content. You should have known it wouldn’t last. “Pathetic, you are”, she says. Suddenly, she drags you to the office desk, making you gasp out in pain, flinging your hands to hers in a poor attempt to release her grip. Shoving you over the desk, she had you right where she wanted you in the first place; bent over and tied. “What, you thought I was going to treat you?”, she laughs. You stutter, words being unable to properly form. “Nothing happened! You were there the whole time! Why am I being punished for your jealousy issues?”, you yell out as she begins to scratch your back deeply. Her nails dig into your skin, fire spreading everywhere you touch. Wailing and twitching in her grasp, you hear her from behind. “Stupid girl. So disappointing when you act out against me”, she taps on the handcuffs. “Are you forgetting who protects you? I can harm you instead if you want baby, just ask”. She pauses, waiting for your reply. Nothing.

She smiles. You can feel the cockiness being emitted without even seeing her. Instead, you intently stare at the table, wishing you were in bed right now instead of feeling the humiliation of your girlfriend lifting up your skirt to check your panties.

The cold table was a harsh polarity to your pussy; you hated how your pussy was throbbing faster than your heart. Vanessa hummed from behind you, clearly amused and proud of you. Leaning over you, the shape of her breasts being felt against your back despite her clothing, she whispers a soft “I love how much of a whore you are”, before standing back up and softly grinding her front against your bare ass. You widen your eyes as you feel something hard press against you. You love how hot and cold Vanessa can be. No matter how rough and angry she can get, she can never resist treating you first.

The sound of her unzipping her pants was as close as you were ever going to get to hearing church bells. Hell, even angels singing couldn’t replicate the sound of her strap slapping your pussy. Shutting your eyes, your brace yourself against the table, moaning as her cock dipped into your soft entrance.

“You think you deserve this?”, she asks, moving your hair back with her hands, a gesture she couldn’t help doing. Not when she knew you did nothing wrong.

You nod desperately, grinding your ass back into her strap, your pussies walls clenching around nothing in a desperate attempt for friction.

Vanessa stayed silent as she plunged her cock into your pussy. You, however, most definitely did not. Your screams filled the quaint neighbourhood as she thrusted into you at a brutal pace that didn’t account for your lack of adjustment. Your hands gripped anything on the table in sight, your body becoming simultaneously needy and overstimulated. “P-please Vanessa slow- oh FUCK yes-”, you cry out, conflicted with the pain.

She rakes her hands over your ass, switching between slapping your reddened cheeks and clawing at your lower back. Hearing her deep, ragged breaths, you knew she was close; the strap hit her clit at every thrust, making her let out lowly strained moans. “Van-”, you roll your eyes back, your vision turning white. She was hitting your gummy walls so right that it felt insane. Your arousal was streaming down the table and her legs, which Vanessa acknowledged by letting out a snort.

“Need to come, baby?”, she hummed. You whine, grinding back. You needed this release so badly; anything Vanessa had told you had already been forgiven.

“V- nessa I need to.. Please”, you bite your lip and squint your eyes, begging yourself to not release before she allowed you to do so. You couldn’t risk more punishment. She sighed as if thinking about it. She sped up the pace, pounding the strap in a way that made it ten times more pleasurable for her as it did for you.

As your fingers grabbed at the table, she let out the smallest whimper that made you go feral. You pleaded, over and over again, to come. You felt extremely betrayed and turned on as Vanessa slumped forward, her chest heaving from cumming quietly. “Oh y/n”, she moaned, “Cum now baby”, she snaked her arm around your waist to bring your ass up even higher as you came with a loud cry.

You let go of the table, your body now going limp. “Vanessa”, you sigh, unable to move. Despite your comfortable position, consisting of you flopping across the table and Vanessa holding you loosely with her strap still half inside of you, she pulls out and forcefully slips you over way too soon for your brain. The pleasure was turning into pain again, and you hiss as your ass makes contact with the table, the marks making it unbearable.

“Don’t think this is over”, she murmurs as you pull her closer.

You look at her, confused.

“It’s only 1 am. If you think I’m done with you, you are sorely mistaken”

[literallydontknowdontcare]

idk if you’ve done this already bc all the vanessa fics r merging together in my brain, but maybe smtg where she has a very stressful day at work, and needs to take her anger out in a healthy way (by doing the reader!!!)

Taking It Out On You

a/n: I love this prompt but I was on a certain sleepy drug when writing (I'm sick as hell right now) so I have no idea if this is good LOL. Anyway, exams are officially over so MORE FICS! YAY! And thanks for the love recently, you all are amazing :) Enjoy!

Content/Warning: smut, choking, pussy slapping, fingering [all r receiving], exhausted/pissed off Vanessa, handcuff use, gun used on you to get you off, you being a good baker, side note I love the Elizabeth lail edits recently 

w/c: 2304

You swayed your hips to the radio. Recently, there was more 80s music than new age, which you weren’t complaining about; sure, you missed hearing the newly hyped singer Miss Britney Spears, but even you had to admit Tears for Fears had a kick to it. Kneading into the last of the cookie dough, you conveniently hear the rumble of Vanessa's police vehicle pulling up to your shared home. Smiling, you pause the music, swiping off the flour that dusted the white countertops onto your apron just as the engine outside slows to a halt. The bench is now fairly clean, you wait eagerly as you see the faint outline of your girlfriend emerging from the car through the window.

The front door clicks open. You hear Vanessa’s footsteps thud a lot less carefully; usually, she would sneak up behind you from wherever you were in the house. She gradually got better at it, too, her dangerous job teaching her a thing or two. It was unlike her to come home after a long shift careless, thudding her jacket and gear on the ground before pressing herself behind you. She inhaled the scent of your freshly washed hair, groaning.

“Bad day?”, you ask, grabbing the pan of unbaked goods and placing them into the oven, Vanessa moving with you so she didn’t have to remove her grasp around you. She huffed as a reply. As you stood back up, she whipped you around, momentarily giving you whiplash. You took in her expression for the first time; her eyes were essentially dead, her pressed lips giving the smallest of indications that she was happy to be home as she attempted a smile when your eyes met.

“It was... Definitely a day”, she sighed. You tilted your head, lifting your hands to cup her face.

“Want to talk about it?”, you prod gently. It seemed that Vanessa was experiencing harder rosters more frequently than before: you presumed it was the pressure of her father, whom she almost never talked about, getting to her. Vanessa simply stared behind you at the oven, her dull eyes beginning to twinkle. “Chocolate chip?”, she questioned, avoiding your query.

You bit your lip and nodded. Her eyes met yours again and you pushed your face closer to hers, not quite reaching her lips but certainly leaving the possibility. Maintaining eye contact, you reach behind her head and softly pull on the hairtie of her ponytail, letting her short, blonde hair loose. She fluttered her eyes closed, groaning. You slide your fingers through the strands of her hair, pulling on them slightly to release any tension. Vanessa inhaled deeply. Pressing your lips against her jaw, you start to pepper her face with small kisses when you feel her take her hands off you, to your dismay.

*Shuffle shuffle*

Vanessa fiddled with her police belt, something that made your groin twist deliciously just from the sound of it. It usually meant one of two things: either she was about to take it off and with it her pants, or she was about to use something *from her belt*. As you attempt to part your lips from her face, she cuts you off.

“Don’t look”, she retorts. As much as you’d like to disobey those orders, there was no way you wanted to be her day even shittier. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you rest your head against her neck as you feel her take something off her belt. Smirking, she raises the object up to your stomach, pressing it deep into your flesh. You gasp and jump back, the coolness startling you. Before you could look down, she spun you around, slamming you against the sink. You whine, your knuckles gripping onto the counter. Vanessa returned to your behind in a flash, grinding her front against you. Disappointingly, you couldn’t feel a strap underneath her pants. You huff, which she notices immediately.

Grabbing onto your neck with a force that startled you, she brought you up so that you were standing straight up as opposed to being bent over. “With what I’m about to do to you, we won’t be needing my cock, baby”, she growled, her hand beginning to tighten around the sides of your neck. You gasp out, your hands rising to your neck to ease the grip, only to be yanked away behind you.

“Vanessa”, you cautioned, unsure of what she was getting at. You heard the jangle of the metal cuffs and froze. “You wanted to help me, yeah?”, she sang sweetly. “Baking me something, cleaning up the front of the house for me”, regarding the time you spent earlier today reorganizing and decorating the place for winter to make it homier.

“You want to make me feel good?”

You don’t hesitate to answer. “Always”

“Then let me use you”. You hear the clank of the cuffs being closed around your hands tightly, Vanessa's leg coming up between your legs that you opened just for her. “Let me see you come with my gun in your mouth”. At that sentence alone, you couldn’t help but let out a moan, jolting your hips involuntarily down on the thigh she had graciously given you. She laughed darkly behind you, removing herself completely from you, making you cry out and turn around to face her. You already missed her manicured hand that fit so perfectly around your neck, acting like a necklace you wished you could always have.

“Couch, baby”, Vanessa demanded, allowing herself to watch you as you made your way out of the room; God, you being in her handcuffs with a vacant, submissive look in your eyes made her want to double down on being rough with you. She followed you soon after, the only thing missing from her outfit being the cuffs that were around your hands and the gun... That was being held so confidently in Vanessa's right hand.

You shifted from your position on the couch, unsure. She laid it beside you, her mouth twitching at your confusion, before climbing on top of you to straddle your waist. She slammed her lips onto yours passionately, hot saliva mixing on both lips. Your moans gradually got louder as her hands attached to the back of your head, roughly pulling at your hair. Vanessa bites your lip harshly, grinning as you try to back away. Her hands leave your hair and begin to forcefully strip your pants from your body. Parting your lips from hers, you lift your legs up to assist her. The soft warm light from the living room lamp perfectly accentuated each other's features; Vanessa's eyes were completely focused on you, taking your sticky panties and flushed cheeks.

“Top off”, she leaned back, watching you rush to meet her demand, smirking as you fumbled with the buttons of your shirt. Now being completely naked, your skimpy bra and underwear being the only things covering your very aroused parts, she spread your thighs with an air of smugness.

“Vanessa”, you pout, jerking your pussy up. She trailed a slim finger along the top of your briefs, pulling them down slowly. Your breasts rise and fall rapidly at the sensuality of it all: the relaxed pace made you even more blushed. Moving her fingers around your folds, you lean your head back, closing your eyes in pleasure. Suddenly, Vanessa slapped at your pussy. Crying out, you snap your head back up and shut your legs. She didn’t like that. Narrowing her eyes, she yanked them back open, harshly slapping the inner side. “Keep them open. Don’t make me tie up your legs as well”. You squirm as she rubs her middle and ring finger quickly on your puffy clit, mewing out loud at the vulgar noises she was creating.

“So sweet like this, hm? Think you can last more than... What was it? Eight seconds?”, Vanessa snickered, recalling the time you came so quickly underneath her that it was actually dismal. You blush at her mocking tone. She swirled her fingers around your opening, her mouth twitching at the way your pussy spasmed when she pumped them in. You lay down, whimpering as she picked up the pace. With no regard to how prepared you were, she shoved two more fingers in. Wailing, you move your hips with her, remembering that she wasn’t doing this for you; she was doing this for her. The thrusts turned into a heavy pound, your moans making it known that you couldn’t take it. Vanessa feasted her eyes on your body, licking her lips at the way your arousal pooled on the leather of the couch. As you were distracted with the overwhelming urge to come right there and then, she reached for the gun. Too zoned out to notice, you felt her lips attach to your neck. “Don’t make a mark”, you plead as best as you can. She ignores you, licking at your sweet spot before sinking her teeth into the flesh. Hissing, you pull away before stopping dead in your tracks.

Pressed against your stomach was Vanessa’s gun. Just a Glock 22, you knew that much, as it was the same one every cop used around here. Though, the coldness of the frame stunned you, both from the Glock and Vanessas stared. She stared you down as she removed her other hand from your pussy, smirking at the yelp it caused. Your fluids glistened on her hand in the warm light. You wearily watch her stroke her hand up and down the tip of the gun.

Once satisfied, she pointed the gun at your stomach, tilting her head at your small gasp of exhilaration and fear. “I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. Are you sure about this?”, she asked sweetly. Her gun was completely empty, for she always took the bullets out at the office after a shift. You didn’t know this, though. You would be relying completely on her skill and carefulness in handling a gun. Vanessa's stomach twisted deliciously at your utter dependence on her. Sucking a breath in, you nod.

She trailed the cool gun up your body, stopping short at your mouth. Pulling your messy hair back, your face red, she tapped the tip of your swollen lips. “Open up for me baby”, she husked. Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out and swirl it around the muzzle, breasts rapidly rising and falling from the thrill of it all. She forces the frame in, resting her finger on the trigger. You groan at the taste of your own cum. “See? Look how good you can be”, Vanessa murmured, shifting her body as she felt her own pussy thud. Unable to go slowly anymore, she began to roughly thrust the gun in and out of your throat, abusing it as she would with her strap. You gag as it passes your comfort zone, rolling your eyes back when you feel her other hand slap your pussy once more. She stands up, laughing darkly to herself at your obedience. Your eyelashes flutter, saliva dribbling onto the glock. Holding onto your head, she takes out the gun and pulls you up to turn you around. Your hands, still cuffed, grab onto the top of the back pillows, your knees digging into the seat.

“You going to punish me, officer? I thought you said I was a good girl”, you purr. You felt Vanessa’s hands wrap around your front. Your neck was snapped back as she gripped you, sliding the gun through your folds. “If you think this is me punishing you, you better hope you don’t disobey me”, she taunted. She plunged the muzzle into your pussy, groaning at how easily it slipped in. Almost immediately, she rammed it at a swift rate, choking you when your sobs went too loud. Widening your eyes, you lift your bound hands to your neck and grab onto her hand to ease the grip. “Enough”, she spat, fucking you faster and squeezing your neck harder. Your hips were slamming between the cushions and Vanessa's thighs, arousal streaming down your body. With a muffled cry, you tightened your grip around her hand, signaling your need for release. By some sort of miracle, she went even faster. The combination of Vanessa's grunts, the pressure on your throat, and the gun that was currently abusing your overworked pussy made you scream out in pleasure.

“Uh uh. Tell me what you want”, Vanessa asked, refusing to accept your nonverbal request to cum.

Swallowing once, twice, you manage to simper out, “Pl-Please officer. Let me cum, please please please plea-”

In a flash, she released her grasp from your neck and shoved her fingers into your mouth, her pace in your pussy unchanging. You cum with a scream, your body jolting at the stimulation.

“There's a good girl”, she cooed, slowing her thrusts before removing the gun from your destroyed pussy. You flop your head backward onto her shoulder, staring at the ceiling as the world around you doubles. You felt Vanessa softly rub your thighs, whispering words of encouragement as you faded back to earth from your high.

“Always such a good girl when you play sweet”, she smiled as you turned your head to kiss her. Deepening the kiss, she placed the soaked gun down and wrapped her hands fully around you, inhaling your scent. She moved her lips to your jaw, where she peppered soft kisses as you giggled.

“Vanessa”

“Mh?”

“The handcuffs”

Vanessa laughed on your neck, pulling herself away from you.

“Stay there, I’ll be right back”

As she walked out of the living room and into the kitchen, you remembered the cookies that were still baking. “And check on the oven as well”, you shout out, collapsing onto the couch with a small grin.

[literallydontknowdontcare]

FNAF Vanessa Requests

REQUESTS CLOSED!

CURRENTLY WORKING ON SUBMISSIONS! THANK YOU :)

[literallydontknowdontcare]

Horny Bedtimes

[FNAF Movie] Vanessa x Fem!Reader

a/n: the first and third part of this fic is in first person, second part isn’t because it’s Vanessa viewing you, lmk if it's weird. Also the title is cringe so ignore that LOL I'm so uncreative pls :')

Content/Warnings: fluff, smut (soft), top!Vanessa, bottom!femreader, established relationship, implied consent given beforehand, Vanessa coming home late so she fucks reader in her sleep to make up for it

w/c: 1339

I looked out the window. Nothing. I glance to my side to read the clock that blares ‘23:48’. Vanessa was late in getting back home for the third time this week in a row. I was starting to forget how she looked, how she sounded when she first wakes up. How she would reply sparingly to my rants before we went to bed because she was too busy brushing her hands through my hair or softly dragging her fingers down my stomach. I sigh, annoyed but not surprised. Being an officer meant either an 8-hour roster or a 12-hour roster; lately, it seemed like Vanessa was getting more 12-hour shifts than anything.

I pout at my blank phone. She hadn’t even *read* the message. I swallowed the rest of the red wine in the glass and made my way to the bedroom, anxious. Though we had been dating for half a year already, I never wanted to seem like the clingy girlfriend. I mean, sure, I’d act as Vanessa's good little housewife by preparing all her foods so she didn’t have to run on coffee whilst on her shifts, as well as decorating our shared apartment we got one month after dating, but that was just because all girl relationships move quickly. Still, I couldn’t help double- triple- quadruple texting her and demanding her to return home.

I bit my lip as I changed out of her brown sweater, groaning at the deep scent of vanilla she used. Naked, I glance across at both of our closets in search of something to wear to please her. I debate over putting on an oversized tee and calling it a day when an idea strikes me.

I get into bed instead of changing. The clock now read 12 a.m. on the dot. If she can’t stick to the time she says she’ll be back, it’s on her for missing out.

—----------------------------------------

Vanessa quietly moved throughout her shared home with you, placing her keys on a placement instead of the counter in case it disturbed you. She, admittedly, had forgotten her phone at her office and only realized how much deep shit she was in when she came back from her patrol, reading 24 messages and 5 missed calls all dating back an hour ago. She didn’t take off her police jacket and belt immediately as she usually did; instead, she made a beeline for the bedroom door.

As she creaked it open, her heart skipped a beat when she saw the top of your head deep in her pillow, your hair softly falling onto her side of the bed. She watched from a distance as she listened to your breathing, smiling to herself as you twitched and changed your position. The movement caused the sheet to fall off your collar and be caught by the top of your breasts.

Vanessa's breath hitched. She walked towards you and slowly pulled down the bedsheet, revealing your naked body. Swallowing, she moved the hair out of your face and glanced at your parted lips and blushed cheeks.

“All this for me, huh”, she sighed, caressing your stomach. She moved her hands up, carefully watching in case you woke up, and began working on your breasts. She squeezed and pulled on them, her eyes twinkling from the way you shuddered in your sleep.

“You're feeling this in your dream, poor baby”, she murmured, standing up to change into something more comfortable. Vanessa returned to you after placing her badge on the bedside table and ran her fingers from your inner thighs straight to your folds. Her gaze burned into your pussy, grinning as the tips of her fingers swirling around your clit caused you to jolt. Your breathing had become more rapid as she started to ease them into your entrance. The more she pumped, the louder a squelching sound was emitted. She stared at your resting face as it became more twisted and hungry, mentally burning the image of you like this into her mind. She toyed with your wet pussy, laughing darkly as she tried to fight your walls pulling her fingers back in whenever she pretended to remove them.

“I know, I know”, she said, “This isn’t much fun. You’ve waited so long for me, haven’t you?”. Vanessa leaned in and brushed her lips over your mouth.

“I think you deserve a reward”

—----------------------------------------

I licked my mouth, then frowned. “What the-”, I thought, feeling something hard swirl around my lips. As I tried to lick it again to determine what it was, I felt my lips being parted and what felt like two long fingers slowly emerge into my mouth. My brain still foggy, I couldn’t make out anything except a voice drifting me away from my dream, holding me down to reality. I sucked complicity whilst I felt someone shift above me. As I was becoming more aware, I became acutely informed that my stomach felt like it was on fire and my thighs were sticky.

Opening my eyes, my vision landed on the outline of a blonde woman moving one hand rapidly between my pussy and her other hand being removed from my mouth.

“Hi”, she purred. My eyelashes fluttered. “Vanessa?”, I question. Before she could answer, I suddenly gasp and arch my back, feeling overwhelmed from the sudden gain of feeling as she was practically fisting me; four fingers were being forced into me at a brutal pace whilst a thumb was applying pressure on my clit.

I shut my eyes, crying out Vanessa's name over and over. “Too much?” she asked gently, sucking on my neck as I switch between grinding against her hand and trying to push it away. I shook my head, taking deep breaths at the abruptness of being fingered after just waking up.

She pulled her head away from me. Fuck, she looked absolutely sinful at this angle. Her lips were plump and her eyes looked animalistic. I met her eyes through my lashes, trying my best to keep them over. She trailed one of her fingers across my lips before leaning forward and biting down. I choked back a sob I was unable to hold it in anymore. She quickly broke apart from my lips, sensing this, and asked, “Do you want to cum like this? Or do you want my tongue?”. I whimper. Vanessa grabbed my face. “Answer”.

“Tongue”, I manage to reply shyly.

She quickly pulled out of my pussy, causing it to spasm, and crashed her face against it. I stop moaning and throw my head back, my mouth left in a silent ‘o’ shape, as she spits and laps up my pussy. Juices dribble from my cunt to her jaw, my legs shaking as I approach my orgasm.

“Vanessa- FUCK, I’m close”, I yelp, grabbing onto her ponytail and pushing her further into my wet pussy. She wraps her hands comfortingly around my thighs and sucks on my clit so harshly that all I see are stars. My vision turns completely white as I come hard on her face, gasping for breath as I go limp.

She laps at my fluid, stopping to let in a breath. She moves her head up to mine and smiles as I moan at the taste of my cum when we kiss. Groaning into my mouth, she breaks apart and rubs my thighs supportingly. “Water?”, she asks, not waiting for an answer and she grabs a bottle off a nearby table and brings it to me.

I sit up, sipping lightly before flopping back down. Vanessa waits a few seconds before cleaning me up. I stare at her as she finishes up, pouting when she grabs my hand to kiss it lovingly.

“I still don’t forgive you”

Vanessa arched her brow. “Yeah? What about now?”, she peppered my face with kisses, giggling as I squealed.

“Maybe a little more now”

[literallydontknowdontcare]

Mike: is struggling financially and mentally

Vanessa: *throws his prescription medicine*

[literallydontknowdontcare]

Don't Try Me

[FNAF Movie] Vanessa x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: angst (happy ending), smut (rough), annoyed top!Vanessa, bottom!femreader, established relationship, Vanessa wears a strap, Mike being scared of Foxy, Reader also being a security guard

a/n: this is my first time writing since years ago. Ignore the present/ past tense f ups, I can’t be bothered to fix it sorry </3 

w/c: 1663

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You should have known not to tease Vanessa. From your hand brushing against hers when Mike wasn’t looking, to you bending over to ‘help’ with building a fort Abby wanted for the animatronics, it was all too obvious for Vanessa not to notice. It just so happened to be that she was intentionally teasing you as well by avoiding your advances.

“I’ll get the sheets for the roof”, Vanessa says, rolling over and standing up from her current position underneath the fort. You looked between her walking away and Mike who was currently eyeing the Fox animatronic in fear. 

“I’ll help!”, you pipe up, deciding that saving Mike from killer robots wasn’t as good as possibly getting railed. As you walk in the dark room, you find Vanessa about to bend over to reach the sheets. “Need help officer?”, you practically purr in her ear, squeezing in-between Vanessa and the box shelves at the last second, making her grind against your ass. She sighs behind you, allowing her hand to drift down your back and onto your ass as you stand back up.

“You’re needy today”, she murmured, tilting your head upwards to meet her gaze. You pouted. “That’s what happens when you ignore your girlfriend and take the shifts where you know I’m free”, you say.

Vanessa rolled her eyes, stepping away from you and taking the sheets off your hands. “I don’t choose my shifts. You act as if I’d rather lock up drunken middle aged men then wake up in our bed”. She headed towards the door.

“Maybe those men would touch me more than you do”, you grumble in a soft tone so she can’t overhear. Unfortunately, your girlfriend was sharper than foxy’s hook, meaning she immediately whipped around and narrowed her eyes. “Would you like to repeat that?”, she said strictly. Knowing you were way out of line, you should have said nothing. But being deprived from any sort of sexual touch for a good week, you doubled down.

“I said”, you took a step forward, “Maybe the same drunken men you locked up tonight could find the time to touch me more often and better than you do”. Vanessas jaw clenched, her hand drifting down her stomach in an annoying attractive fashion to her radio, shutting off the person beginning to talk on the other line. For a good solid 10 seconds, it was completely silent. No annoying static of the police radio, no animatronics singing and dancing in the background, just you and your extremely pissed girlfriend in an almost pitch black room, listening to the sounds of each others rapid breathing.

Vanessa made the first move. She pushed you roughly against the shelves, her hands immediately reaching for your breasts underneath your shirt. You gasped out loud as she ripped open the buttons and pushed her face against the top of your breasts that threatened to spill out of your lace bra. She began sucking and biting the top of the soft flesh, distracting you from her hands that were now reaching to unclasp her belt and pull out something unexpected.

“Vanessa, I-“, you began, your head spinning from the quickness of it all. She removed herself from your breasts and began pinching your left nipple with one hand, the other hand still being mysteriously missing in the dark. 

“What, isn’t this what you wanted?”, you could almost see the grin emitting from her cockiness. “I hope you didn’t expect me to pepper your pretty princess pussy with kisses, did you?”, she teased. You whimper at her question, a knot starting to grow in your stomach. She stopped squeezing your nipple and quickly pulled down your shorts, slapping your panties harshly, making you jump. “Answer me”, she demanded.

But you couldn’t. With what little light was left in the room, you simply stared at her through your eyelashes, your breasts rising and falling as you plead with your eyes.

She noticed. “Not good enough, is it”, she sighed, “So disappointing”. You widen your eyes, not because of her disappointment, but because of her hand finally returning from wherever it went. *Holy shit*

In the dim light you could just barely make out a large mushroom tip strap. You looked back up at Vanessa, her hand softly stroking it, her lips now almost touching yours, and a look that made you think she was about to swallow you whole. 

“Panties down”, she said, one hand heading to rest on your throat whilst the other tapped on your thighs to spread them open. You blush, your senses heightened as all you could think, see, hear, touch and smell was Vanessa. You pried your purple laced panties off of you; to no ones surprise, they were soaked from your arousal, so they took a little effort to pry off. 

If you could sense a smirk, you definitely were sensing one from Vanessa right now. The initial touch from her strap was soft, almost caring. She gently rubbed it along your folds, smiling at the noises it made when in contact with your dripping entrance. She began to slowly push the tip in, before taking it back out and slapping it roughly against your already puffy clit. You jump with a loud cry before Vanessa’s hand slaps over your mouth. It’s quiet again for a few seconds as you both listen for anyone realising how long you guys were taking. The music from Freddy started. Good.

She turned back around and narrowed her eyes. “Always whining, aren’t you?”

“You ask a lot of questions”, you blurt.

With that, she roughly shoves the whole strap inside. Your breath hitched as you clasped your hands at the back of Vanessa’s neck, pulling her neck closer to your mouth as an attempt to stop yourself from making any loud noises. She thrusted the strap in and out rapidly, her hands grasping your hips and digging her fingers in so hard you knew purple bruises would emerge. Your pussy clenched harshly around the length, making it harder for Vanessa to move. You were gasping for air at this point, your legs faltering with every movement. Vanessa moved her thumb to your clit and pressed down hard, making you cry out. “Slo- slow down”, you manage to get out. Her pace slows, before realising she was still mad at you, and she picked up the pace again.

The shelves behind you began to rattle as her pace increased and you were clinging to her waist like your life depended on it. You couldn’t silence your moans anymore; it just felt too good. “Nessy, fuck, I need to-“, you were cut off as she shoved two fingers into your mouth. “Wait”, she barked. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your ability to think gone. Just as you thought you were about to lose it, she pulled out entirely before slamming back into your flooded pussy. Letting out a silent scream, you cum around her strap, scratching your nails down her clothed shirt. She let you ride out your high, slowing down her pace before pulling out to let you recover.

You flop your head beneath her neck, letting your breath get back to normal as Vanessa softly rubbed your back and hip bruises. She hadn’t really said much. She was the less talkative one of you two during sex; she preferred letting her body and facial expressions say what she needed to get across. But her not saying anything after was worrying you.

You lift up your head to her reaching for a towel on the shelf behind you. As she began to clean up your thighs and her hands, you decided to break the silence.

“Are we alright?”

Vanessa paused. “Hm?”

“Are we good? Are we okay? Is everything copacetic?”, you quote what she said to you when you first met.

The corner of her mouth twitched, though she threw the towel on the floor and began to fix her pants.

“I am trying, you know”, she says grimly. You tilt your head. “With the crime rate going up, and the shifts they are making me take, and.. all of ‘this”, she gestures to the door, referring to the animatronics, Mike and Abby. “Look, I’ll try and see if anyone can fill in for me. Alright?” She looked as if she were about to cry.

You wince. “Vanessa.. no”, you felt immensely guilty for making her angry just so you could have some attention.

“No?”

“I’m sorry”, you cup your hands around her face and she closes her eyes. “I know you’re exhausted. I shouldn’t have said what I said to make you act out. And even though I miss you, other people out there need someone like you. I can wait, I promise”, you lean in, gently kissing her cheek.

Vanessa swallows the lump in her throat. She hated crying. She hated this room. She hated what her father made her do. But she could never hate you.

“I love you. It’s just- I love you”, she says softly.

“I know”

She leans in to kiss you when all of a sudden: “VANESSA? Y/N? How’s it going with those sheets???”, Mikes voice rings from outside. In the distance, you could hear that the animatronics song had finished, and the stage was now playing disco music. Abby squealed with delight in the background.

“Yeah, Mike, we found em. Give us a second”, Vanessa called out.

You blushed as she helped you redress, fixing your hair and makeup so it looked like you didn’t go through a trainwreck. She smiled as you fixed her tie and picked up the sheets needed for the fort. As you dragged her to the door and opened it to find Mike squeezed in a corner, watching Foxy on the other side of the hallway with immense suspicion and fear, Vanessa made a mental note to remind her father that killing you wouldn’t be an option.