minikirie - Tumblr blog

minikirie · 12 days ago

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DEVOTION.

obsessed!vi x reader | just pure smut, emotional vulnerability, yearning, and obsession. (mdni ♡) wc: 1681

contains: worship kink, strap-on use (r!receiving), vi refers to her strap as her dick, oral sex (r!receiving), cockwarming, just vi being very pussydrunk.

a/n: sorry guys I’m just too obsessed with pathetic vi </3

Enjoy ♡

The room was quiet, lit only by the dying orange glow of the streetlight outside the window.

The air was thick— sweet, heavy with the scent of your cherry perfume.

Vi stood in the doorway like a storm barely restrained-lean muscles taut, fists flexing like she was holding herself back from touching you too soon.

"You don't know," she murmured, voice hoarse, "what you do to me."

She crossed the room slowly, boots quiet against the worn floorboards, her gaze never leaving yours.

There was something reverent in her stare—like she wasn't looking at a person, but something sacred. Something she'd kneel for.

When her fingers brushed your waist, it wasn't rough, despite the power in her frame. It was tender. Careful. As if you might break under her touch—or worse— vanish.

Her hands skimmed lower, curling at the hem of your skirt, dragging it up slowly—revealing the delicate stretch of your thighs.

And then she saw them.

Pink.

The softest, sweetest little pink panties, clinging to your pussy like a prayer, a wet spot forming on the center.

Vi's breath hitched sharply.

She traced a single calloused fingertip along the lace edge, barely daring to touch.

"Pink," she whispered to herself, her voice husky with need. "Of course. Sweetest color. Sweetest fucking girl."

You whimpered, thighs twitching slightly under the weight of her stare.

Vi sank to her knees before you, worshipping you without even touching you yet.

She hooked her fingers gently into the waistband of your panties and tugged them down-slow as death, slow as devotion.

She didn't say anything at first. Just looked-eyes dark, almost in awe.

"You're so pretty," she breathed, voice raw and breaking.

And then she kissed you. Not your mouth. Not yet.

Your thighs. The hollow of your hips. The soft skin just above your aching cunt.

She kissed you like you were a prayer she'd spent her whole life learning by heart.

You whimpered again, hand threading through her messy hair.

"Vi..." you whispered, a half-moan leaving your lips. Voice shaking with need and something else—something fragile.

That snapped her last thread of control. She groaned low in her throat, desperate, and dug her tongue into your soaking wet cunt without hesitation.

She devoured you—messy, starved, frantic. The sounds were filthy—wet, obscene, echoing through the quiet room.

"God, baby," she gasped against your folds, "your pussy's so fucking sweet. Could stay buried in you forever, fuck— m'gonna get you so ready for my dick-"

"Oh— fuck." You sighed out. "Fuck me— please. Fuck me." you whined in desperation.

You felt it then—her trembling.

Her whole body shuddered as she mouthed at you, hands gripping your thighs like you were the only thing anchoring her to the world.

Your hand tightened in her hair, tugging gently, pulling her up until her flushed face hovered over yours.

"Baby.." you whispered, your voice full of soft concern through the haze of pleasure. "You're trembling."

Vi's chest heaved, breath broken against your lips. Her pupils were blown wide, eyes wild, as if she barely recognized herself anymore.

She looked wrecked.

"Can't—“ she choked out, voice thick and shaking, "can't help it. You make me feel so much—pretty thing—pretty fuckin' thing— mine, all mine."

She collapsed against you, pressing her forehead into your stomach, voice cracking into desperate, messy, beautifully vulgar worship.

"I'm so fucking obsessed with you," she babbled, trembling harder now, "your pussy's heaven, you're heaven—you're the sweetest thing l've ever tasted, you're perfect, you're fuckin' mine-"

You cupped her face, coaxing her to look at you again, your thumbs stroking her damp cheeks.

"I'm right here," you whispered against her skin. "I'm yours. It's okay, baby. Let go. I've got you."

That was it.

That was all it took.

Vi let out a choked sob of relief and crashed her mouth to yours—kissing you like a drowning woman clinging to the surface.

She shoved her strap against you—thick, hard, already slick with your arousal—grinding it along your soaked folds until you gasped into her mouth.

"Tell me you're mine again," she begged into your neck, voice wrecked, hands gripping your hips like she could mold you into her.

"Please— you're mine, right? Mine to worship. Mine to fucking love."

You wrapped your arms around her back, nails dragging down her shoulder blades.

"I'm yours," you whispered into her ear. "All yours, Vi."

She whimpered —whimpered— a broken, desperate sound, and pushed inside you with a slow, aching thrust.

"Can't stop—won't stop—gonna stay inside 'til you're leakin' down my thighs, fuck—“ she whispered. Slurring on her words and sounding so fucking pussydrunk.

She fucked you slow, deep, her trembling body pouring everything into every filthy, reverent motion-whispering broken prayers into your skin.

"You're perfect, perfect, sweetest thing, made for me—fuck—so fucking good, baby—“

Your nails bit into her skin, your body arching into her. Every thrust, every wet sound, every tremble, every gasping, messy confession from her lips sent you spiraling higher.

"Soaking f'me—you're so good to me, baby—‘s all for me, right?" she slurred, voice wrecked against your ear.

You nodded frantically, whimpering, tears brimming at the edges of your lashes.

"A-All of me, Vi—“ you gasped, clinging to her like you'd drown without her—“everything I am—it's all yours. I promise."

Vi groaned like you'd torn the last piece of sanity from her, pounding her dick harder and deeper inside you, her hands fisting the sheets around your head like she needed to anchor herself to you—or else she'd fucking fall apart.

When you finally came—clenching tight around her, crying out her name like it was sacred—Vi came undone right with you. Her hips still slowly grinding against you.

Tears in her eyes.

Lips pressed to your throat.

Her whole body shaking with the force of how deeply she loved you.

And even after the pleasure shattered into pieces, she stayed wrapped around you—still trembling, still murmuring half—senseless things against your skin.

Still worshipping you like you were the only salvation she'd ever found.

And the world was slow to return.

The room was heavy with the scent of sex—slick heat, sweet musk, the overwhelming perfume of you still clinging to Vi's trembling body.

She collapsed against you, forehead pressed to your shoulder, her breathing ragged and uneven. Her whole body was shaking—small, uncontrollable tremors running through her as she clutched you like a lifeline.

You ran your hands down her bare, flexing back, soothing her with slow, careful strokes.

"Baby," you whispered against her hairline, your own voice still wrecked with aftershocks. "...What was that about?"

Vi shuddered against you. She tried to answer—tried to find words—but all that came out was a broken whimper, her mouth pressing desperately to the side of your neck like she needed your pulse to survive.

"You were shaking so bad," you murmured, rocking her gently in your arms, feeling the slick mess between your thighs-the sticky, dripping proof of how thoroughly she had worshipped you.

"You're still shaking."

Vi pulled back just enough to look at you, and the sight broke something open in your chest.

Her face was flushed, slicked with sweat and the lingering wetness of your pussy around her lips. Her pupils were still blown wide, drowning in black. She looked fucked out, wrecked, starved for you even now.

Her voice cracked when she finally managed to speak.

"Couldn't stop," she whispered hoarsely. "Couldn't stop touching you, tasting you. You're—“

She swallowed hard, hand finding yours and bringing it to her heart, where it thundered violently against her ribs.

"You're everything," she rasped. "You smell like heaven, taste like a fuckin' dream... your pretty little cunt... dripping for me, soaking my face... it's all I see when I close my eyes."

You exhaled shakily, overwhelmed by the rawness, the violence of her tenderness.

"I thought I broke you," you whispered, a faint giggle spilled from your lips, brushing her sweaty hair back from her forehead. She laughed—a broken, soft sound—and nuzzled into your palm.

"You did," she said. "You broke me. Ruined me. Made me yours."

You pulled her into a kiss—slow, messy, lingering—you moaned into her mouth while tasting yourself on her tongue, feeling the quiet, desperate way she clung to you like she'd never let go.

When you finally pulled back, you brushed your fingers lightly over her hip, where her strap was still buried deep inside you, hot and unmoving.

You shifted your hips slightly and gasped softly at the feeling—thick, full, the girthy silicone pressing deep against your tender walls.

Vi groaned low in her throat at the tiny movement, her arms tightening around you like a vice.

"Baby," you whispered against her lips, "Fuck— you wanna pull out now?"

Vi shook her head fiercely, voice trembling with need.

"No," she breathed. "No. Fuck no. I wanna stay inside you. Wanna feel you clenching around me. Stay buried in your lovely pussy all fuckin' night."

You whimpered at the filthy desperation in her voice, at the way her strap twitched inside you like it could feel every flutter of your sensitive, pulsing hole.

"You're still so wet," Vi muttered, almost delirious, her forehead dropping against yours. "So warm. So perfect. Feels like you're suckin' me in, princess. Like your pussy knows it's mine."

You kissed her again—gentle, worshipful—rolling your hips just a tiny bit so the strap ground slow and deep inside you, your swollen, dripping folds clenching around it like you never wanted to let her go either.

Vi moaned brokenly into your mouth, her whole body melting into yours.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whimpered against her lips.

"You can ruin yourself on me all you want, Vi."

Vi whimpered again—wrecked by your words—and pressed herself closer, trembling in your arms, the slick heat between your legs sticky and beautifully shameful between you.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself believe it.

That you were hers.

That you wanted to be worshipped like this.

That you were never, ever going to leave her.

Critcism and ideas are heavily appreciated (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

thank you for reading! ♡

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minikirie · 25 days ago

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𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 𖤝 𝚆𝙸𝙵𝙴!𝚂𝙴𝚅𝙸𝙺𝙰 𝚇 𝙵𝙴𝙼!𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁

tags: modern setting, fluff, too much fluff.

𖤝| sevika won’t let you leave angry. not the room, not the house, not even her side. if you try, she just blocks the door with her body, calm, unmoving. “we’re not done,” she says, but there’s no threat in it. just finality. she doesn’t shout. she doesn’t argue. she waits you out like a storm, and you always break first.

𖤝| the first time you went full cuteness aggression and pinned her down kissing her face like an attack, she let you. quietly. didn’t say a word. but when you stopped she flipped you. suddenly she’s the one kissing you over and over like she snapped. teeth grazing your lip. eyes half lidded. voice low “no tapping out now.”

𖤝| sevika has exactly one hoodie she lets you steal. you wore it once and she never took it back because she saw how soft you looked in it and it made her weak. now, when you’re in it, she stares a little too long. if you try to give it back, she just grunts and walks away. you’re never giving it back.

𖤝| you keep climbing her in quiet moments. sitting on her lap while she’s reading. hugging her from behind when she’s washing something. she acts unbothered, but at a certain point, she just slams the book down, hauls you over her shoulder, and says “you want attention? you got it.” and disappears into the bedroom with you over her shoulder.

𖤝| she’s careful with her strength around you. too careful. like she’s scared of cracking you open. she opens jars before you even reach for them. carries things before you even ask. when you say you can do it yourself, she nods.. but doesn’t move. just stands there, watching. waiting. and eventually, you let her.

𖤝| you kiss her bicep every time she flexes. doesn’t matter if it’s on purpose or not. she lifts a box? kiss. stretches her arms? kiss. scratches her head? “wow, so pretty.” another kiss. she pretends to act casual about it. secretly flexes more.

𖤝| sevika never tells you when she’s angry at someone else. but you notice the way she tightens her grip when she brushes your hair that night. how the strokes lose rhythm. how her breathing changes. she’s careful not to take it out on you, but it leaks through anyway. and you learn to ask less questions on those nights. to be still. to give her space.

𖤝| she has the nerve to look this good when she sleeps. shirt riding up, one arm behind her head, mouth slightly open. so of course, you crawl on top of her at 3am, kiss her ten times in a row, then whisper “you’re killing me.” she stirs. half opens one eye. “good.”

𖤝| sevika doesn’t like when you dream of other people. not lovers—anyone. when you wake up and tell her you saw your mother, your old friend, a teacher from childhood.. her gaze sharpens. she asks what they said. how they made you feel. and the next night, she holds you tighter. harder. like she’s trying to squeeze the memory out of you before it sticks.

𖤝| sevika never tells you she’s angry. she just stops touching you. not cruelly, not obviously—she’s still there, still present, still herself—but her hands don’t find you in passing. she doesn’t tuck your hair behind your ear, doesn’t brush crumbs off your chin. you feel it immediately. the absence. and it hurts more than yelling ever could.

𖤝| sevika keeps your baby picture in her wallet. you didn’t give it to her. she found it somewhere.. old, worn, tucked into a book you forgot. she didn’t ask. just slipped it into the fold behind her mints. now it’s always with her. when you noticed it, it made your heart flutter.

𖤝| she now accepts that she is your personal body pillow. you spoon her. you lie across her. you lie on top of her. she’ll just be flipping through the pages of her book while you’re starfished across her torso. sometimes she lifts your arm so she can read under it.

𖤝| you’re constantly climbing on her lap, even mid-conversation. she’ll be talking to you about something or someone and you just quietly sit in her lap like a cat. she doesn’t stop talking. doesn’t react. just rests a hand on your thigh like this is perfectly normal.

𖤝| she tries to act unaffected when you smother her with kisses. you kiss her cheek fourteen times in a row and she just blinks like nothing’s happening. but the second you stop? “that’s it?” she doesn’t even look at you when she says it. you kiss her fourteen more times.

𖤝| one day, you try to be normal. no biting. no climbing. just sitting beside her, hands folded, behaving. after ten minutes she grabs your wrist, pulls you into her lap, almost mad. “what’s wrong with you.” you say “i’m giving you a break.” she deadass looks offended. “i don’t want a fucking break.”

𖤝| sevika pretends she’s bothered when you hang off her like a backpack but her hands always find your thighs to hold you in place. you’re clinging to her back like “hi :)” while she’s trying to cook, and she just sighs and shakes her head, but always kisses you at the end of it.

𖤝| she can tell when you’re needy just by the way your toes curl while you stand in the kitchen, your long nightgown brushing the floor, sleeves too big, your fingers twisting in the fabric. you don’t say anything. you never do. you just look at her with those glossy eyes, lips parted, thighs pressed tight. and she’s on you in seconds. lifts you onto the counter and says, “c’mere, crybaby.“

𖤝| you cling when you’re upset, too, and she knows exactly what to do. no questions. just picks you up, sets you on the couch, pulls you into her chest. one hand rubbing your back, the other cradling your head. “i’ve got you,” she says, and you believe her. because when she says that, the whole world goes quiet, and your heart goes lighter for a moment.

𖤝| you say “babe” fifty times an hour and she answers every single time. sometimes with a grunt, sometimes with a flat “what now,” sometimes with a gentle “yes, sweetheart?” and sometimes, she just pulls you into her lap without answering at all because she knows you don’t really need anything. you just wanted her attention.

𖤝| she always tries to carry all the groceries herself. no matter how many. no matter how heavy. you offer to help, and she goes, “i got it.” ten seconds later she’s grunting under seventeen bags like a mule, refusing to make two trips. “don’t look at me,” she huffs.

𖤝| she takes the “eat the last bite of my food” thing as a personal challenge. you’ll leave one bite of cake on your plate, go to the bathroom, and come back to find her chewing suspiciously. “where’s the cake?” you ask. she shrugs. “gravity.”

𖤝| you’ve convinced her to watch trashy reality shows. she says she hates them. she complains the whole time. but if you talk over the drama for even a second, she pauses it like a schoolteacher and goes, “you’re gonna miss the good part.”

𖤝| one time, sevika came home after a long, brutal day.. she comes home late. later than usual. her back hurts, her shoulder’s stiff, and the joints in her prosthetic are clicking in that way that makes her feel ancient. her keys jangle, and she’s already halfway through a groan. except you happened-

standing dead center in the living room.

in your nightgown.

past your ankles.

sleeves draped over your hands like some sad little heirloom doll.

eyes puffy. hair wild. lips trembling.

you look like a haunted Victorian ghost who just crawled out of the floorboards.

sevika freezes.

and you say it.

you say it like you’ve been waiting centuries:

“are you cheating on me?”

she blinks. keys still dangling from her fingers.

“…the fuck?”

you take a step closer. the nightgown rustles. it sounds like a threat.

“you didn’t answer my texts,” you say, almost breathless. “or my other texts. and then you liked that girl’s picture.”

sevika just squints at you. “what girl?”

you shrug. desperate and grieved. “she had a neck.”

there’s a pause. a long one.

“…everyone has a neck.” her voice is so flat.. like she just woke up or something.

you blink. like that genuinely never occurred to you.

then your lip wobbles again like you might cry or perform a dark spell.

sevika sighs. long. slow. the tired kind that comes from a full day of chaos only to come home to.. more chaos. nightgown-wearing chaos. she lets the keys hit the floor with a dull clink and walks toward you.

“baby,” she mutters, eyes soft now. “you think i’m cheating on the girl who looks like a kicked bunny and accuses strangers of having necks?”

you blink again. then whisper, defiant

“…maybe.”

there’s a twitch at her lip. like she’s trying not to smile. like she wants to laugh and cry and throw you over her shoulder all at once.

“you want me to prove it?”

you nod. sniffly. bravely.

she just scoops you up.

no warning. no argument.

one arm under your knees, the other around your back. lifts you like it’s easy. like you’re made of clouds and dramatics.

you squeak—actually squeak—like a startled kitten.

“what are you doing?!”

“proving it.” she says it like it’s obvious. like it’s the only rational response to your witch trial.

you clutch at her jacket, all nightgown and flailing sleeves and messy hair. she carries you to the couch and sits with you in her lap like she’s bracing for war and your love is the weighted blanket holding her together.

her hand is splayed across your back, fingers warm through the fabric. the other supports your thighs. her face presses against your temple.

“mmhmm,” she mutters, low and sarcastic. “cheating on you. that’s why i’m holding my delusional little marshmallow like this.”

you pout. whine. nuzzle into her collar. “i’m not delusional.”

“baby,” she sighs, brushing your hair back and kissing your cheek. “you accused a stranger of having a neck.”

you glare up at her. absolutely betrayed. “and you liked it.”

sevika just looks at you. quiet. soft. half exhausted and half in love with whatever ridiculous gremlin fate bound her to. Her mouth twitches again. she leans down.

one kiss to your forehead. another to your nose.

then a longer, lingering kiss to your lips. she pulls back just a little. “next time you get dramatic,” she whispers, voice husky, “at least wait until I’m not about to drop dead.”

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