#MESSED UP. MESSED UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[egophiliac]

couple of extra low-quality gifs from one of my favorite '90s anime :D

just felt like messing around in this style! it's fun to get in there and just really scrunge it all up. >:D there's a lot of mistakes still, but uhhh something something it's about the ✨journey✨

[desktopmermaid]

Aaaand one more keychain I’d want

She/her

[deathofacupid]

★ in which satoru assures you that pre-wedding jitters are nothing to be worried about xx

"you're freaking out," satoru says, his knock on the heavy mahogany door startling you. your eyes dart to the rich wood, and a frown creases your brow.

"don't come in!" you scold, ignoring his claim. "it's bad luck if you see me before the ceremony."

a faint chuckle floats through the door, and you can practically hear the defensiveness in his voice. "i'm not, i'm not." there's a soft shuffle of movement behind the wood, and you let out a sigh.

"okay, so… i'm a little nervous," you admit, your fingers fiddling with the delicate fabric of your wedding dress. it’s truly beautiful — a dress that your younger self, with her countless pinterest boards, would have been absolutely elated to find.

everything has been perfect so far. satoru made sure of it. but mostly, it’s been perfect because it’s the day you’ve been looking forward to since the moment you met him. there's little that could mess it up, you think, but the stakes still feel incredibly high.

satoru jokes, but you can sense a hint of panic underneath his words. "you're not getting cold feet, are you?"

quick to reassure him, you shake your head, even though he can't see it. "no, 'toru. that's not what i'm worried about. it's more along the lines of, like, tripping down the aisle. what if i trip down the aisle? do you know how mortifying that would be?"

"you're not gonna trip, baby," he snickers, and you're not particularly fond of the amusement he finds in your anxiety. "and if you do, i'll… trip in solidarity."

"in solidarity?" you repeat, scoffing. "seriously? what does that even mean?"

"i'll face-plant alongside you. that way, you won't fall alone. duh."

"okay." a pause, as you tread carefully with your words. "do not do that."

you're sure satoru is pouting on the other side of the door. "why not? isn't that romantic?"

you ignore him, standing up and brushing down your gown, chewing on your bottom lip. "what if it starts raining?"

"does it matter? we're inside."

"oh. right," you mumble, stopping your pacing. "you aren't nervous?"

there's a beat of silence. "no, i'm not. i just want to be married to you already. it's not like i have anything to be scared about, anyway. unless you're planning on running away with my best man?" he kids.

"depends. does geto often have the bright idea to down two cups of coffee before bed and then act surprised when he can't fall asleep until after midnight? and keep me up in the process?"

"point taken. but we make good use of that time, don't we?"

you huff, crossing your arms as heat rises to your cheeks. "shut up."

"hey," he whispers, his knuckles tapping against the door again. "open it."

"what? i can't. it's bad luck," you repeat.

"i know, i know. i'll keep my eyes closed. promise." there's a new softness in his tone, and it has you giving in instantly.

satoru never has to try very hard to convince you of anything. besides, you miss him. it hasn't been long at all, but even the minutes feel like hours, making you ache for his warmth, his touch.

you, a little less than hesitant, pull the door open, and it quietly creaks. your breath catches as soon as you see him, his striking white lashes fluttered shut.

his hair is delicately styled back, held in place with a touch of gel. clad in a perfectly tailored black tie tuxedo, satoru looks absolutely heavenly. your fiancé. your to-be-husband. your soulmate.

he feels for your waist, gently pulling you against his chest, and you melt into his familiar touch. "i just know you look beautiful," he breathes, his voice a low rumble. "i can't wait to see you walk down that aisle."

"i can't wait to walk to that aisle."

he holds you just a little tighter. "i can't wait for you to be my wife."

"ready to get married?" you ask, from the crook of his neck.

oh, he's been ready.

[bwabbitv3s]

It is weird how much better at communication I got after getting my dog. All the stuff I learned in preparation for puppy training made me a better communication in everything, full stop. I went from a great at communication person to an excellent one. Really before I was one of the go to people when teaching stuff and even onboarding people and got still got better because I got a dog.

Which makes sense as it is learning theory which works on everything from earthworms to lions. I even use it on myself it works so well. I have very tiredly without really thinking thought better reward that to keep up the reinforcement history for that behaviour, about myself.

Okay this is gong to sound condescending on several levels but:

There's a kind of cliche about training a dog - that if you want it to always come when it's called, you should never scream at or punish it when it does. Even if you just spent twenty minutes getting increasingly panicked thinking it was dead in the woods! Even if it had been trampling through the neighbors garden! It is very important that it's direct association is 'stopping whatever super interesting thing I was doing to go back to human = being praised and rewarded'. If the association is instead being screamed at or punished, the dog will be less enthusiastic to stop whatever fun thing it's doing to run to that.

I feel like a great many people would noticably improve their own lives if they started applying the same logic to how they treated other humans.

[mwphisto]

Going at it for five hours with Caleb.

He brings forth a whole new meaning of marathon sex, his drive so insatiable that you’re certain it’ll take him losing consciousness to finally rest.

Though, you’re not one to talk. You’re equally as hungry, clawing up his back like it was your own personal scratch post. Any harder and you’re sure he’d start to bleed.

“O-one more, pips. Give me one more.” But that’s a god damn lie and you know it. You know it’s not just one more, you know he won’t be sated once you cream around his cock for the umpteenth time in… some number of hours.

You’ve lost count, the floor to ceiling windows of his Sky Haven home fogged from the heat you two created.

The living space is thick with the scent of musk and sweat and sex. It should be gross, but it only spurs the two of you on further. “C…ca-aye-leb…!” You should be horrified, completely ruined by the way he pounds you. Pounds the sensibility out of your head. You’ve lost the ability to think.

“C’mon, I feel that pretty pussy squeezing me. Gonna milk me dry again, pips? Let me fill you up with all my cum? Naughty girl, you love when I pound this pussy huh?”

You’d never known Caleb to be so filthy, though you assume he always had been.

“P-please! Cum in me, n-need y-yo-oh-ur cum in my pussy Caleb! Not enough, need more!” And, well, you were just as bad. Dirty words flying out of your mouth like it was second nature. Filthy language, you’d be mortified later.

If later ever came. The sky had been a deep midnight black when you two started playing, now? The sky was turning to a soft indigo. The sun would be rising soon.

“Good girl, such a good fucking girl taking my cock like this.” The rug feels damp with sweat, with release, your sweaty back is dragging up and down it.

Caleb’s grip is iron around your ankles. He’s got you splayed in a perfect V, pounding his hips so hard you’re sure there are indents left on the back of your thighs

“Gonna cum—shit’m gonna cum!” You’re writing, hands clawing at the rug, his arms, his thighs, his hips. Anywhere your nails can reach, you’re grabbing and sinking in. “Cum for me then, make a bigger mess of my cock.”

You’re crying, tears leaking down your cheeks and your entire body stiffens. Your orgasm is devastating, your vision whiting out as your walls spasm.

Your ears are still ringing as you come down, vision blurry as Caleb continues to babble you filthy praises. All the while his hips aren’t stopping, and if you could focus long enough you’d hear him whispering “just one more…”

This man is so gross, absolutely filthy. Would def lick the sweat of your body after fucking you into the ground. Would suck his own cum out your pussy just to see how you taste together and then spit what remained into your awaiting mouth… so nasty how could anyone ever … Caleb plz hit me up I wanna turn.

[pamrak]

KHEMJIRA & PHRAENARIN DENIED LOVE, EP3

[sixeyesonathiel]

satoru wakes up way too early for someone who stayed up until 3 a.m. playing video games and eating chips in bed, because he "needed one more win." his hair is a fluffy mess, his voice deeper than usual, and his arms? wrapped snugly around you like he’s velcro and you’re the last thing keeping him tethered to this plane of existence.

he shifts behind you, still warm from sleep, arm slung over your waist like a living weighted blanket. there’s a soft kiss to your shoulder—so gentle, you barely feel it. “good morning,” he mumbles, voice hoarse and fuzzy with sleep. “i missed you.”

you groan into the pillow, still halfway in a dream. “you were literally spooning me all night.”

“yeah, but you weren’t in my dreams,” he whines, his pout audible. “i dreamt of taxes or something. betrayal, honestly. emotionally scarring.”

you try to wriggle away, needing just ten more minutes of peace, but his grip tightens immediately. “nooo,” he whines. “baby. please. i was so lonely in there. you didn’t even call me pretty. or hot. or husband of the year.”

he starts listing reasons why he missed you in his dream, still half-asleep and getting exponentially more dramatic. “you weren’t kissing me. or telling me to shut up. or kicking me in your sleep. it was awful. my subconscious was so empty. just paperwork and despair.”

“you’re the worst,” you mutter, not even opening your eyes.

“no, i’m the husband who loves you,” he corrects sweetly, nuzzling closer, lips grazing your shoulder again. “and you sound soooo sexy when you’re grumpy. like a sleepy little kitten with attitude. my favorite flavor.”

then he gasps. “wait. what if this is another dream? what if i wake up and you’re not real? oh my god, hold me tighter—prove your existence. say my name. lick my forehead or something.”

you snort. “go back to sleep, satoru.”

“but i missed you,” he says again, burying his face in your back like you’re his emotional support plushie. “you didn’t even make a guest appearance. rude. next time, RSVP to my REM cycle.”

“your dream version needs to chill,” you grumble, but you’re already curling into him again. he hums triumphantly, squeezing you closer, interlacing your fingers with his and pressing soft, sleepy kisses into your hair.

“my dream girl,” he sighs dreamily, “is my wife in real life. how lucky am i?”

you roll your eyes. but you don’t pull away. because being satoru gojo’s wife means enduring clingy, sleepy love declarations at seven a.m. on a saturday. it means whining and kicking him when he’s being annoying, only to end up melting into his chest three seconds later

and you love it. god, you love it. every ridiculous, dramatic, needy second of it. you love him. and you love being loved by him most of all.

[stealingpotatoes]

Eyyy ask box! I started doing art this year and I just wanted to tell you that especially your Dishonored art has been both very entertaining and a huge inspiration for me, so thank you so much. <3 Please pet the noble eunuch for me.

aw thank you so much!!! here have some more dh (with daud bc ur pfp <3)

(commission info // tip jar!)

[viapencil]

Visit - Shadowpeach

I'll leave this here and slowly walk away… very slowly…

By the way, @cloud-somersault this is for you :D Now bais -i going to Diyu WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

[la-sera]

"Wait for me."

A single title for all the pictures here.

Hello! Feels like it’s been forever since I last uploaded a drawing. May was super hectic for me, I barely had time to draw. But now I’ve got a bit of free time, and I’m using it to get my revenge—by drawing a lot!

SS: I’ve been wanting to draw this scene for so long.

AoL: Finally colored this old sketch.

Lttp: This is the scene at the start of the LTTP game, and I think Link only hears Zelda’s voice telepathically. He doesn’t know what she looks like, so I didn’t draw her here. I love drawing Link’s rain-soaked hair

TP: I think I messed up the coloring on this one. I just can’t feel the depth. I wanted to color the throne to look dark (with deep tones) but also distant (fading into white), and I couldn’t get it to blend properly. not enough...

BOTW: A beautiful day to slay Ganon!

Hope you like it!

[shycorvid]

Yeah, no. Abusing your power as a medical professional really isn't funny, not even in a fictional setting.

Damian becoming the Doctor of the family, treating the Bats when they're injured, and taking care of them... But doing so in the most evil unhinged ways possible.

Damian, injecting something into Bruce's arm: I'll give you an anesthetic but you are in no condition to fight, Father. You'll be on bed rest until I clear you.

Bruce, already standing up, no fucks given: Thanks, Damian. But I really need to catch these people, they are– They–

Bruce: *Begins to stumble in place* They– y-you–

Damian:

Bruce, falling to the ground: W-what did you–?

*Evil boss music starts playing in the background*

Damian, slowly approaching: Oh, sorry, did I said I would give you anesthetic? I meant to say a paralyzing agent.

Bruce:

Damian: Don't worry, Father, Black Bat will take care of the case...

Damian, carrying Bruce back to bed:And you, as I said, will be on bed rest until I clear you.

*Evil music intensifies*

*After training*

Damian: I made limonade.

Dick, reaching for a glass: Thanks, Dam—

Damian: Not that one. That one is Drake's.

Dick: Oh–

Damian, handing Dick a glass: This one is yours.

Dick: Oh.

Damian:

Dick:

Dick: Did you- Did you put something in Tim's?

Damian:

Dick:... Did you put something in mine?

Damian:

Dick:What did you p–

Damian: Drink it, Grayson. It's good for you.

[spotsupstuff]

she's so small it's maddening.. her whole torso is like a half of a normal Echo's.

perfectly throwable, as kids should be.

[webslinger-holland]

heyyyy, i love your work! could you do all of the thunderbolts reacting to you wearing their clothing! tysmm!

Prompt: The Thunderbolts react to you wearing their clothes

Warning: NSFW 18+ minors DNI, suggestive and sexual themes, flirting and innuendos, light dom/sub undertones, some sexual tension, and a somewhat lack of clothing ironically

Note: I took a much more flirty approach to this without crossing any lines. Hope you enjoy!!!

Yelena: Getting prepped for another mission with the team, you spent a good deal of time getting into your gear. You zipped up your suit and turned to leave only to spot a familiar looking tactical vest draped across the back of a nearby chair.

You quickly take a glance at your surroundings, checking to see if anyone was watching you. When the coast was clear, you grabbed the vest that had so many pockets and slipped it over your shoulders. You made some adjustments to how it laid on you.

You liked the weight of it, the worn leather, the faint scent of her perfume mixed with gunpowder. You didn't notice the moment she came into view and stopped mid-stride.

“What the hell?" Yelena was taken back. She gestures at you with both hands, but can't hide the smile on her face. “That’s mine.”

You raise a brow. “And?”

“And you look insufferably hot in it, so now I can’t yell at you.” She makes it sound dramatic and playful at the same time.

She storms closer dramatically, tugging at the lapels like she’s going to reclaim it—but doesn’t. She looks at you skeptically.

“You’re keeping it, aren’t you?” Yelena asked.

"Maybe," you shrug.

"You can't keep it, it's my favorite." Yelena sports a clear pout on her lips. She tugs on it again. "Look at how many pockets it has!"

"Just let me wear it for the day," you plead with her and you knew she'd cave because you were giving her that look. You even put your hands together in a silent plea. "Pretty please?"

“Fine. I’ll just steal something of yours. Like your favorite hoodie. And then we’ll be even.”

You go to kiss her cheek affectionally and she pretends to not care by wiping it away with the back of her hand. "You're the best! Thank you!"

Bucky: It’s a lazy afternoon. You’re curled up on the couch in Bucky’s dark red Henley (the one from Civil War). The fabric warm against your skin and worn soft to the touch. You didn't even bother wearing anything underneath it because it fell past mid-thigh.

When Bucky walks in from a run and sees you, he actually stops in his tracks. He's sweaty and breathless. And his brows scrunch together in slight confusion.

“You—uh—what are you wearing?” Bucky's chest heaves as he attempts to regain his breath.

"Your shirt," you shrug carelessly.

You stretch out like a cat with your arms held way above your head. The said shirt, in the process, rides up along your thigh to expose just a little more skin. Bucky's gaze flickers down.

"Figured you wouldn't mind." You caught him staring and smirk teasingly.

“No,” he mutters and sets his gear down on a nearby chair. “No, just… wasn’t expecting to see that the moment I walked in.”

“Why? You’ve seen me wear less.” You tease.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t trying to be good then.” Bucky emphasizes and can't hide the growing smirk from gracing his lips.

He walks over slowly, kneels beside the couch, and lets his hand settle on your bare thigh where the hem rides high. Now, it's your turn for your gaze to flicker down to where his hand lay.

“You know this was my favorite shirt?” Bucky's fingers start to dip beneath the hem, drawing dangerously close to your heat.

“It still can be,” you say. Your fingers weave into his hair gently.

"You like messing with me?" Bucky beams at you.

“Maybe. You gonna do something about it?” You asks. Your legs part ever so slightly like it's an invitation.

“Not unless you ask real nice.” His lips ghost over your knee. And when you shift toward him, he smirks.

John: You were hanging out in the kitchen, sitting perfectly perched on the counter with a cup of coffee in hand. You were sporting John's West Point t-shirt and nothing else but socks. It hangs mid-thigh, swallowing your frame and the socks come up to your knee. You hear the front door creak open and a familiar bootstep on the tile.

“Huh,” John drawls having just come back from a workout. “Didn’t realize we were sharing closets now.”

“You leave your clothes around. I consider that an invitation.” You mumble and peer over the rim of your mug.

“Yeah? What else you think is an invitation?” John quirks an eyebrow at you in challenge.

"You tell me, Walker."

He steps into the kitchen fully with his arms crossed over his broad chest. His eyes scanning you with slow heat. You set down the mug and lean back, keeping yourself propped up with your hands behind you.

"That shirt looks better on you, I’ll admit,” John nods. His tongue wets his bottom lip. “But I’d rather see it on my floor.”

"Then you better do something about that," you replied. You uncrossed your legs slowly and deliberately, just to push him.

“Oh, I will." John takes long strides to meet you and cages you in with hands on either sides of your hips.

You said nothing, but looked up at him with sultry eyes. He leaned closer. The heat of his body pushed against yours. His breath hit your lips.

The two of you were teetering on the edge of caving into your desires. It was only when his fingers slid under the hem of the shirt and brushed the bare skin of your thigh that you nearly lost all composure.

“No panties?” John sounded surprised. His hand flexing. “Jesus, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip. He looked like he might snap.

"But you should know, sweetheart, you wear my name like that again?” He leans close, voice low, teasing your lips with his. “I’m not just taking the shirt. I’m making sure everyone hears who you belong to.”

Ava: You stood in front of the mirror wearing Ava’s signature black leather jacket which was open over a low-cut tank. You turn slightly to admire it from another angle because it really was a much different look on you. You'd always been more known to wearing softer, lighter things.

Nobody would expect to see you wearing leather, especially not Ava. So when she walks into the room from a mission, Ava stops dead in her tracks. Her expression unreadable behind her usual cool demeanor.

You catch her reaction in the reflection of the mirror. You quickly spin around to face her and show it off a little flirtatiously.

"What do you think?" You inquire.

"I think that's mine," Ava points out.

"Well, yeah." You look down at yourself. "You don't mind, do you?"

“No,” Ava shakes her head, stepping close. “I mind that you look better in it.”

She walks over slowly, eyes on your frame. You expect a snarky comment. Maybe a grumble. But instead, she just stares. She circles you once, fingers brushing over the collar, her tone measured.

“You know what leather means, right?” Ava quirks an eyebrow at you.

“Power. Control. Danger.” You reply.

She leans closer. Her lips barely brush your jaw. “Exactly. And I want all of it back.”

Bob: Being in your own bedroom, you were sitting on top of your bed and mindlessly flipping through an old magazine from your teen years. You recently acquired a particular blue crewneck that certainly didn't belong to you, but you had always been weirdly drawn to it.

It falls nearly to your knees, sleeves swallowing your hands. You bring one sleeve up to your mouth and rub the soft fabric against your lip, taking a moment to breathe in deeply. It still smelled like him—like warm vanilla and cotton. He somehow smelled nostalgic and divine at the same time.

You didn't even hear him when he walked into the room, slightly taken back by seeing you wearing something of his.

“Is that—? That’s mine…” Bob comments, pointing to it.

"I'm sorry," you look up at him innocently. "I got cold."

"Well, you could always start by putting on more layers." Bob notices how you went wearing anything else besides that; his eyes darting to the skin on your legs.

"Where's the fun in that?" You tease and send him a playful wink.

He walks across the room like he's in a trance. He stares down at you and his hand reaches up to brush the side of your face tenderly. You lean into his touch.

"You're dangerous like this," Bob smiles.

"Why? Because I look cute?” You wonder.

“Because you look like you belong to me,” Bob confesses. His eyes looked so soft, but there was an intensity behind them too. “And I don’t think I’m capable of handling that thought right now.”

“You wanna try anyway?” You suggest.

He exhales like it physically hurts not to touch you. He climbs into the bed beside you. You lean against him, and his arm curls around you protectively. His heartbeat pounds in his chest. And the smile that grows on his face is too pure for this world.

[sillysapphicrose]

No, that's not true.

She was badly treated yes but she never got to the point to confuse fiction with reality. She was just a good actress, how shocking. I know you mean well, but it kinda leaves a sour taste when i read this because it sounds like you don't take Shelley's talent seriously and instead depict her as a poor little girl made of glass. (And also because I've heard this take too many times and it starts to get really annoying).

[sevikasthrouple]

can we PRETTY PLUEASE get a longer version of this https://www.tumblr.com/sevikasthrouple/785745106219188224/pussy-drunk%E3%83%8Edrabble-strap-pussy-drunkvi-vi?source=share

its okay if not

┆ ⤿ PUSSY DRUNK (EXTENDED) ♡⸝⸝

— drabble that inspired this fic

Strap, pussy drunk!Vi, Vi is a whiny top, experienced!reader, subtop!Vi (?), lots of praising, oral, perverted!Vi, pet names !

— Synopsis: Vi wants to feel your pussy skin-to-skin and the strap doesn't quench that thirst.

"Baby, you're so warm and tight," Vi commented as she slowly sunk her strap inside your cunt.

You laid on the bed with your legs sprawled out, fixing Vi with a half-lidded eyed gaze.

"Vi, it's not real," you replied, voice low and sleepy almost.

You weren't new to sex, but Vi sure was. Not all that new, but this was definitely her first time fucking someone more experienced than her causing her to feel puppy-like almost. Compared to your energy and aura, she was nothing. Yet, Vi insisted she took charge in the bedroom. It was laughable but you decided to give it a go. Vi let out a shuddering sigh before she buried the cock inside all the way, her own breath hitching in her throat.

"You okay?"

"You're tight," she repeated.

You rolled your eyes and held her muscular shoulders, pulling her closer to yourself, "C'mon, baby, thrust already," you whispered encouragingly.

She was nervous.

Vi blushed, a little embarrassed— but she pushed through and started moving her hips slowly. The strap was a bit bigger than you'd anticipated, your hand tangled in the sheets and teeth clenched. Your mouth opened slightly, and you let out a small moan that caused Vi's confidence to inflate. She pulled back and pushed the strap back inside with more efficiency, letting the ridges slide deliciously against your gummy walls.

Your pussy clenched around the invading toy, "It's big, it's— mmm..."

"Oh, yeah?" Vi's eyes squeezed shut.

"Are you okay?" You asked, a little concerned, but your mind was too clouded with lust to actually care.

"Yeah," Vi huffed a breath, "Your pussy is so pretty, I need... I need to feel it. I need more."

Vi glanced down, your clit throbbing as she stretched out your beautiful pussy using her strap. The thick girthy pink strap disappeared all the way inside your pussy. The stretch, the swelling of your clit, the throbbing, the clenching, the schlik schlik sounds. It was all too much.

Vi couldn't anymore. She just couldn't.

Your eyes flew open when she yanked her hips back, suddenly leaving your pussy all empty. Your brows furrowed.

"Vi, wha—!" Your breath caught in your throat when she threw her strap across the room, your slick dripping off the toy and she stuffed her face straight into your pussy. You gasped, hips bucking. "Vi!"

Vi didn't answer.

She just wanted to feel you against her. "You smell so good," she said instead, sniffing in your musky scent.

It was your turn to blush, you looked away, "Vi, you're such a pervert..."

Vi giggled although she was still dazed by your cunt, she licked a bold stripe up your pussy, smirking at the taste. "You're so sweet for me," she whispered. "Your pussy is so pretty, baby. All pretty for me," she cooed, her fingers spreading your pussy lips out, smiling and spreading out your folds, giving your vulva a very sensual massage.

"Vi," you stuttered, "Don't do that," you mumbled, trying to squirm away.

"Why, baby? You feel so good against me," she whispered before she captured your clit in her mouth, giving the nub a soft suck, her tongue swirling around it.

"Feels too good," you writhed under her, unable to keep your body still.

Vi's fingers found your clit, slowly easing inside your hole and rubbing against your inner walls. She was enjoying this way more than the strap now that she got to feel the way your pussy clenched around herself. The strap just wasn't enough, she needed more. Vi's desires for you ran deep in her blood, insatiable— leaving her own pussy a sticky, hot mess for you.

"Fuuuuck," she dragged out.

Her two digits stuck knuckles-deep inside your pussy and curling against your g-spot causing you to moan and raise your hips.

You ground down against her fingers trying to get as much friction to your heat as possible, your hips shuddering every now and then from the overwhelming pleasure that threatened to envelope your entire being. Your head pressed deeper into the pillows, and your hands desperately grabbed and whatever surrounded you— your left hand holding Vi's hair and right hand holding the sheets.

Sure, you had plenty of experience having sex but not once has someone eaten you out with such need, such desperation as if your pussy was their last meal. No one had bothered to get so messy just to get a taste of your pussy. Your cunt throbbed, globs of arousal seeping onto Vi's eager fingers.

She glanced at you just to ensure you were enjoying it too, because you'd gone quiet. You'd gone quiet because the pleasure was simply too overwhelming and now stringing two words together was harder than ever.

Vi's hair was messy, sticking to her forehead in sweaty tufts but she didn't care. She didn't care to get messy having her favourite meal. She gave you a rather devilish smirk before she paced up, her fingers moving quicker and harder. Her tongue darted out, swiping over your clit causing a loud "Oh!" To leave your mouth.

Suddenly— she sighed.

"I can't, sweetheart, I can't," Vi removed her fingers too making you huff a little.

"Vi!" You began but your reprimanding intentions melted away the moment you felt her tongue enter your slit.

She lapped up your juices hungrily, eyeing you with such desire you'd never seen in anyone's eyes before. She shifted your legs upto her shoulders as she continued letting her tongue dance about your pussy. Your legs tightened around her neck.

"I'm close," you muttered and Vi gave you subtle nod.

"I know, princess, I know," she said before she slurped on you. Loud and wet.

The knot in your tummy coiled and coiled until it snapped, your eyes flew open, body locking up and arched into Vi's mouth.

"I'm cumming," you mouthed, but no sound came out as your liquids travelled down her chin and in her mouth.

Vi groaned at the taste, lapping up hungrily at your pussy, sucking loud and harshly. She was sloppy with her movements— desperate honestly. She looked at you with puppy eyes.

"I need more..."