soulwrencher - Tumblr blog

soulwrencher · 4 months ago

Text

fool me once | vi x reader

summary: after a night out, you cross paths with your (very married) neighbor. against her judgment (and yours), she shows you a good time. 18+ mdni! contains cheating (vi is married, r is single), alcohol use, oral sex, pet names. kinda angsty? like, maybe a little? also in my head vi is much older than reader but it’s not mentioned in the fic, so imagine it however u want!

“thank you soooo much,” you tell your uber driver, a woman around your age who had let you sit in the front seat and pick the music for your ride home. “i literally wouldn’t have made it here without you.”

“of course,” she chirps back, grinning, clearly not annoyed by your slurred words and overenthusiastic gratitude.

you rattle off a few more words of thanks as you clamber out of the sedan, heels clicking on the gravel. a sudden gust of wind sends shivers up your spine, reminding you that it’s not technically spring yet, and your too-short skirt and spaghetti strap top aren’t doing much to protect you from the cold. In fact, they’re not doing anything at all. you walk a bit faster up your driveway, glad that you’d had the foresight to turn on the porch light before you’d left earlier.

as you’re rummaging through your purse in search of your keys, the neighbor’s door swings open, and out walks a tattooed redhead. you quickly recall her name - vi. she lives next door with her wife, who you’ve also crossed paths with a few times. both women are, frankly, fucking hot. especially vi, who’s clad in a loose white tee (braless, no less) and jeans, inky black tattoos on display as she settles down into one of the patio chairs. she’s carrying a glass of wine, filled nearly to the brim.

maybe it’s the alcohol in your system from your night out. maybe it’s the fact that you haven’t had sex in ages, resorting instead to sliding your hand beneath your panties at night and finger-fucking yourself to sleep. maybe it’s a combination of both. regardless, you catch yourself staring at your neighbor for a bit too long, eyes lingering on the red mass of her perfectly-tousled hair, the glimmering silver ring in her nose, the smoldering heat of her gaze when her eyes meet yours.

she doesn’t look away. your breath catches in your throat.

“hey, neighbor.” dipping her head back, she takes a long swig from her overfilled glass of wine, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and flashes a crooked smile your way. “had a good night, i take it?”

nodding, you tug your front door open by the handle. you’re tipsy, and though alcohol typically makes you feel more confident, the benefits of the many cocktails in your system don’t make talking to your hot neighbor any easier. anxious, you fiddle with the zipper on your purse. “it was fun, yeah.”

“but he didn’t let you stay over,” your neighbor shoots back, eyes narrowing just a bit. “shame. you deserve better.”

your brows lift at the comment - specifically the word he. vi can’t be that oblivious, can she?

“he? oh - no, it wasn’t like that. i was with friends.” you lean your head against the cool metal of the front door, letting your eyes drink her in some more. she’s sitting on the porch furniture like it’s a throne, shoulders squared, legs spread. her jeans fit her well, you notice, admiring the way they emphasize the shape of her strong thighs beneath the denim.

but… fuck, she’s married. and you’re drunk.

“i’m gonna go to bed,” you say, finally, smiling politely. “goodnight, vi.”

it might just be a cruel trick of your imagination, but you swear she looks disappointed - if only for a moment. her expression returns to normal just as quickly, though, and then she’s responding to you from behind the rim of her wine glass. “uh-huh. goodnight.”

when you finally get the door shut, it’s with a relieved sigh. the tension leaves your body in waves until all you feel is the light, airy haze of your buzz. you toe off your shoes and set your purse down on the table by the door, then make your way to the kitchen for some much-needed ice water. you’re halfway through your second glass when there’s a knock at the door.

as you set your glass onto the counter and walk back to the foyer, it occurs to you that most normal people would be startled by a knock on the door after midnight. most normal people wouldn’t get excited by it, and they certainly wouldn’t hope it’s their married neighbor knocking.

and most normal people wouldn’t stop to look in the mirror before they answer the door, pulling their shirt down to expose more cleavage, fixing their hair and hastily reapplying a layer of lipstick. but you’re not most normal people - you know it’s her at the door, and you know this is wrong, and you still want it.

when you turn the knob and find her staring you down on the other side of the door, her seaglass-blue eyes dark and stormy with desire, you feign innocence. ignorance, even.

“hi,” you say, voice even. “do you need something?”

“nobody saw you dressed like this and took you back to their place?” vi’s voice is low and gruff as she questions you, stepping over the threshold into your home. instinctively, you angle out of her way, letting her in without a word of protest. when you don’t move to close the door again, she pushes it shut with a flat palm, eyes never leaving yours.

“hm?” she prompts.

“i—no,” you blurt, shaking your head. “i was just with friends, like i told you.”

the heat of her gaze has your skin flushing with warmth as she looks you over, eyes lingering on the curve of your hips and the slopes of your breasts.

satisfaction roils through you, a white-hot stab of confidence from the way she looks at you. “why does it matter?”

“you’d only wear something like this to get fucked,” she drawls, one calloused hand reaching out to grab the supple flesh of your hip. her fingertips skate over your skirt’s mesh fabric, her face still relatively expressionless while you burn from her touch alone.

“well, i didn’t get fucked,” you say, surprised at how well you’ve masked the shakiness of your voice. “not that it’s any of your business.”

your tone evidently surprises vi, too. her brows pull together, an amused chuckle leaving her lips as she rubs her palm over your hip. “what an attitude,” she comments. “always been such a sweetheart, smiling all pretty at me. should’ve known you just needed a few drinks to bring out the brat.”

her boots are heavy against the hardwood floors as she steps forward to close the small gap between the two of you. she smells like cigarettes and spiced perfume and that wine she’d been drinking earlier - it suddenly dawns on you that, if she’d finished that entire glass in just a few minutes, she’s probably just as tipsy as you are.

that would explain why she’s crowding into your space, backing you up against the wall closest to the door, her arm snaking around your waist like she’d done this a thousand times before. truthfully, you’re expecting her to kiss you when she leans in close; the very tip of her nose brushes against yours and your eyes fall shut of their own accord.

but instead of her mouth on yours, you feel her lips latch onto the smooth skin of your neck. her kisses are hot, wet, open-mouthed, and a pleased sigh pushes past your lips when she pauses over a particularly sensitive spot on your neck and sucks hard. arousal pools in your gut, your thighs pressing together to relieve some of the tension between your legs as you lean into vi touch. her hands are everywhere: your hips, your ass, your tits, groping appreciatively at every inch of you she can reach.

you should feel guilty, shouldn’t you? if only you could. instead, all you can feel is the delicious slide of vi’s tongue over your pulse, her teeth nipping at your sensitive flesh until you’re pliant in her arms, doe-eyed and rosy-cheeked, watching her trail kisses lower, lower, lower. her lips brush the lace trim of your camisole and when she looks up at you from beneathher lashes to find that you’re already watching her, she grins salaciously.

“hey, sweetheart,” vi murmurs, voice low. she leans towards you again, close enough for you to smell the wine on her breath, and your heartbeat stutters when her lips ghost over yours. “can you show me your room?”

she kicks off her boots and you lead her down the hall, suddenly glad that you’d made your bed this morning.

vi’s hands are back on you as soon as you make it to the bedroom, the lamp on your nightstand providing just enough light to keep you from stumbling. she pulls your shirt over your head in one fluid motion, hands dipping behind you to unclasp your bra and work the straps from your shoulders. she’s methodical and practiced with every movement, and it makes your head spin when she gropes at your exposed tits, thumbs stroking over your pert nipples.

“fuck,”she curses down at you, her eyes on your breasts as she kneads them carefully. “look at you - so pretty for me.”

vi’s words have your cunt clenching around nothing, a shameless moan ripping from your chest when she pinches your nipples just right. you whine in protest when she moves her hands away, but you’re quickly silenced when her palm comes to rest on the back of your neck and she dips her head down to bring her lips to yours. the room seems to spin around you, though you know it’s not from the alcohol.

vi tastes like smoke and wine, just as you’d expected, but beneath it all, there’s the distinctive flavor of her. and it’s addictive - you’re hooked already, melting under her commanding grip,her fingertips digging into the back of your neck. her tongue darts over your lower lip, eventually slipping into your mouth to taste more of you. every swipe of her tongue over yours stokes the fire growing in your belly; you’re practically vibrating with arousal, your cunt fluttering every time vi’s hand flexes on your neck.

but then disappointment stabs through you as she finally breaks the kiss, her lips swollen and shiny with saliva, eyes clouded with need.

“don’t look so sad, baby,” she coos down at you, “just want you to get on your knees for me. can you do that?”

truth be told, you’d do just about anything she’d ask of you. you nod, sinking to your knees before her, your skirt riding up to bunch around your hips and expose the supple, doughy flesh of your thighs. vi even catches a glimpse at your panties - skimpy and lacy, of course. her cunt gushes wetter and she palms herself over her jeans as you settle on your knees to peer up at her, eyes wide and round and pathetic. how can you look fucked-out when she hasn’t even fucked you yet?

your hands smooth up vi’s thighs, the denim of her jeans rough and scratchy beneath your palms. it feels wrong to break eye contact, especially when she’s looking at you with such desire, so you keep your gaze fixed on him while your hands move to undo her belt, pop the top button of her jeans, and tug the zipper down. you lean closer as you work her jeans down her legs, leaving her in just the thin material of her boxers. and it’s only then that you want to look away from vi’s face, because you can feel how wet she is when you drag your hand over the clothed mound of her pussy. you need to see how wet she is, too.

you can hear her breath hitch as she watches you; the urge to please her seizes you with dizzying strength and you’re no longer caught up on the guilt of the situation. leaning forward, you press your lips to the thin fabric separating your skin from vi’s pussy, darkening with the mess of her arousal. your tongue flits out to circle the wet patch, and vi groans like she’s in pain, her hips twitching desperately. distantly, you hear her say something like don't tease, but you’re too focused on the task at hand to process vi’s words. you rub your cheek against her pelvis, your eyes flickering up to meet hers - she’s staring, lips parted, jaw tight.

“damn, you’re a slut, aren’t you?” vi’s voice is low and husky, tinged with dark amusement. her fingers card through your hair and tug slightly at the roots. “baby, stop stalling - i need to know how that pretty mouth feels, yeah?”

“mm, okay,” you murmur, a mischievous little smirk playing at your lips as you hook your thumbs behind the waistband of her underwear and tug them down to her ankles. she spreads her legs just enough to allow you to see her, cunt flushed and glistening with slick arousal beneath a fine thicket of hair. the room is still spinning when you open your mouth to lick a stripe up her pussy, tongue lingering when it reaches the bud of her clit. she tastes salty and sweet and heady, and it’s divine - you lick up the evidence of her arousal until she’s straining to keep from bucking her hips forward, thin brows knitted together.

“so gorgeous on your knees,” vi rasps. her hand moves to grip the back of your neck, blunt fingernails digging into your skin just enough to sting. you smile, but you doubt vi can see it, your mouth buried in her bush and smothered with wetness. you lick at her cunt lazily at first, tongue broad, allowing you to familiarize yourself with every slick fold of her cunt. you tongue at her clit carefully, not wanting to overwhelm her too much - but every pass of your tongue over the swollen, sensitive bud makes vi’s breath hitch in her throat.

“doing so good,” she manages to say, voice shaky. A hand smoothes over your hair. “gonna let me come on your pretty face?”

you hum your assent, eyes fluttering shut as you mouth at her burning core, the taste and scent of her slick overwhelming your senses. you’re not sure how long you spend between her legs, sucking at her clit and parting her folds with your tongue, moaning against the spit-slick hair of her bush, before the ragged moans leaving her lips grow more insistent - more desperate. you pick up the pace of the circles you’ve been drawing around her clit, bringing one hand up to her center to slip a finger into her tight heat. vi makes a sound that makes your pussy fucking throb with want. seeing as it was so easy to slide a finger into her, you add another, and revel in satisfaction when she makes another tortured sound. before long, you’re fingering her at a dizzying pace, the lewd sounds from between her legs making your stomach heavy with arousal.

there’s little warning before vi finally comes - she gasps out your name, fingers tightening in your hair as her cunt seizes up around your fingers. she thrusts her hips forward a few times, riding out her high on your face, and you couldn’t be happier to be such a fucking mess.

when you open your eyes to look up at her, you’re mesmerized. she looks beautiful like this, even as her expression crumpled with pleasure. her hair is disheveled far more than usual, cheeks painted a bright shade of pink, lips still swollen from earlier. you’re struck with a bolt of admiration for her, a fleeting sensation quickly followed by guilt because, well… she’s married to someone else.

as if she could sense where your mind was going, vi suddenly draws her hips back, gripping your hair in her fist to pull you away from her cunt. you clamber to your feet, nipples still exposed and achingly hard as your tits bounce with movement. vi pulls you in for another messy kiss, the wet sounds of your lips moving together only adding to your arousal. you’re so turned on you can hardly breathe, your slickness soaking through the flimsy fabric of your panties. vi moves you backwards to the bed, giving you a quiet command to lie back before she reaches down to yank her shirt off.

she’s on you before you can process what she’s doing. dropping to her knees at the foot of the bed, she pulls you to the edge of the mattress, wasting no time before her hands are greedily squeezing the soft, warm flesh of your thighs. she works her hands higher until she can grip the hem of your panties, working them off quickly. “ruined,” she comments, referring to the soiled fabric as it sticks to your cunt, ribbons of your arousal stretching between the underwear and your soaked folds. you can only get out a strangled moan to acknowledge her words, body white-hot with anticipation.

warm puffs of vi’s breath trail along your inner thighs, her mouth utterly sinful when she sucks a few bruises into your sensitive skin. you’ve hardly recovered from the sight of her as you ate her out, but now you have a new image to burn into your memory: vi’s head between your legs, her pupils blown, gaze fixed up at you as she splits your folds with her tongue. sloppy as she is, she’s methodical about this too. her tongue dips into the well of arousal pooled at your entrance, spreading the slickness upwards to your clit. your hips jerk and twitch when her tongue prods against the bundle of nerves, which she clearly doesn’t appreciate - her hands move to slam down on your hips, forcing them back down to the mattress. she keeps her hands there, her fingers splayed over the sliver of your torso exposed beneath your skirt; you look away when you see the silver rings adorning her fingers. one ring in particular, really.

guilty as you should feel, it’s hard to harbor any kind of regret when vi’s eating your cunt so well. she’s attentive to every moan and shiver that passes through you, expertly mapping out your body - finding what you like best. and it’s maddening, how quickly she works you to the precipice of your orgasm. you’re teetering on the edge within a few short minutes, panting and gasping, fighting every urge to roll your hips down and grind against her face.

“oh my god,” you blurt, “vi, i’m - i’m gonna–”

you interrupt yourself with a sharp whine, going damn near cross-eyed when vi slips a slender finger into your pulsing heat. you’d imagined her fingering you like this a hundred times before, but none of your fantasies could prepare you for the way a single finger splits you apart, her index finger slipping in right after, both digits scissoring carefully in the warm wetness of your cunt. if you were close before, you’re now a babbling mess, slipping into the ecstasy of your orgasm with a strangled moan and an arched back. vi licks you through every wave of pleasure, her fingers stilling inside you while you spasm around her. she hums in approval when you finally come down from your orgasm, spent and struggling to catch your breath.

“you’re so fucking messy,” vi says with a smirk, dragging her fingers through your folds and holding them up for you to see. wetness shines on her fingers, your creamy spend still pooled around the dips of her rings. “you always this sloppy, baby? or is it just for me?”

you chew at your lip. “it’s just… just for you.”

she flashes you a wicked grin, gives your swollen clit one last kiss, then rises to stand over you at the foot of the bed. you reach out for her, suddenly cold, yearning for the warmth of her bare skin against yours. but she doesn’t notice the gesture, instead turning to search the floor for her forgotten tee and jeans.

“sorry i can’t stay,” she says casually, tugging her jeans on after finding them in a crumpled pile. “my wife will be home soon, so.”

her wife.

you’d been so wrapped up in your own ecstasy that you’d let yourself fantasize about her staying the night - crawling into bed with you and cuddling after sex, falling asleep in each other’s arms.

if your disappointment shows, vi doesn’t say anything.

“i’ll see you around, sweetheart,” she says. her eyes shift to your still-spread legs, cunt soaked in her spit and your own cum.

“okay,” you respond, voice hollow. your head has started to throb - tonight’s drinks are catching up to you. you watch as vi tugs her shirt back over her head, then turns to the mirror beside her bed to fix her tousled red locks. she gives you one last smug smile as she backs out of the doorway to your bedroom, one hand lifting to wave goodbye. you hear her shuffle through the house, stepping back into her boots. the front door slams shut a moment later, the silence of your bedroom somehow deafening.

in the quiet solitude of your bedroom, you pull the covers over your naked body and force yourself to sleep. and maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll wake up tomorrow to find that this was all a drunken dream.

#guys my wife dropped a banger #vi x reader #vi x reader smut #vi arcane

798 notes · View notes