#Sapphic

[milsae]

happy lesbians

[viceandmature]

#Just Sapphic Things

Bonus:

[vivi-llain]

moonlight

march p4treon exclusive

[thehoneybeestings]

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲

𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚!𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐚!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Word Count: 3.3k

Synopsis: Sevika has grown awfully fond of the owner of Zaun's only bakery; in fact, she'd do anything for her. So, when a hard heat hits the baker, Sevika can't help but offer a helping hand.

Content/Warnings: omegaverse! if it's not your thing don't read it; nsfw, top!sev, bottom!reader, soft dom!sev, reader is referred to w fem terms/pronouns, reader has female anatomy, sev has a dick bc i think all alpha's do?? idk im new here

A/N: so... heyyyy guys... yes i know this is not on my wip list but i was struck with divine inspiration and who am i to work against higher forces! this is my first time dabbling in omegaverse so i hope it suffices...

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ

 ──˚₊୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

There’s something tugging at Sevika.

She’s already scanned the room for what it could be, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. The booth she routinely occupies at The Last Drop feels no different than it ever has, the playing cards and poker chips littering the rickety wooden table in front of her are just as beat up as they always are, and her drunken opponents are as easy to beat as ever.

She’s slouched back against the wall behind her, brows furrowed and eyes trained on the half-empty glass of whiskey dampening its paper coaster. The anticipation buzzing around her shouldn’t feel so foreign; the woman’s M.O. is to be at attention, at all times, with no exceptions. Still, there's a hum of urgency that's much louder tonight than usual. Something is telling her-something is demanding her-to remain alert, attentive, ready to be of service.

Her flesh hand twitches, fingers squeezing around the rim of the glass she holds for a split second.

Someone needs her. Someone needs her now.

She can’t put her finger on who it could be, or why it could be, so she taps at the glass’s rim with it instead.

A voice, gruff after nearly a lifetime of smoking, pulls her from her concentration on ripples running through liquid amber.

“You even payin’ attention?” The ash of his cigar falls onto the table as the hand that holds it gestures towards her chips.

On an ordinary night, she’d shoot the shit. Give him a playful scoff. Tell him that she wasn’t paying attention at all, and somehow, she was still kicking his ass.

But, despite the normalcy of The Last Drop’s Friday night debauchery, despite the inventory she’d taken of her surroundings telling her that everything should be okay, she still can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

It’s pulling her to her feet now. She downs the rest of her whiskey as she stands, mumbling something about everyone splitting her earnings evenly as she walks off. Her opponents are left entirely confused and a little bit richer as they watch her stride away with her usual purpose.

Where this pull is taking her, she has no idea. Frankly, she doesn’t care. She no longer feels her stomach wrenching as she tries to fight off the force yanking at her cloak, begging her to go wherever she’s going now. With every step, there is clarity.

Someone needs her. Someone needs her now.

She's getting closer to them. With every step she takes, she finds that her lungs are easier to fill now that she knows this person needn’t worry any longer.

When she ends up at your door, her entire body melts on exhale.

Of all the people in the world, there’s no one else she’d rather be needed by.

Be it the chaos that had ensued just before meeting you for the first time, or the way you seemed to calm her stormy seas at first glance, she remembers it like it was yesterday.

She remembers swinging the bakery’s door open in a panic, eyes wide and wild as they hurriedly scanned the room for a head of fluffy hair dyed blue.

“I’ve got her,” a voice rang out. A voice like honey to match your honeysuckle scent, she immediately noted.

You stood behind the counter, placing a piping bag down and wiping your hands on your blush-colored apron with a shy smile.

Lo and behold, there sat Isha, perched on the marble countertop next to you. She stared up at Sevika with big, innocent eyes; far too innocent for a girl who’d just escaped Sevika's grasp and booked it to the bakery she’d been begging to visit for weeks now.

“She’s quick,” you chortle. “Sugar may not have been the best idea, now that I think of it…”

You look over at the small girl whose mouth was now opening as wide as it could go to take a bite of the blueberry muffin you’d given her. It was too late. She was hooked and sure as shit to be bouncing off of the walls, now.

Sevika’s eyes trail from the crumbs stuck to Isha’s lips to the affectionate smile gracing your own. It was too late. You were sweet as honey, and she was hooked, too.

That was nearly a year ago, now. Trips to the bakery slowly but surely changed from Isha’s demand to Sevika’s suggestion. Eventually, Sevika began visiting on her own; before work to get a coffee, during her breaks to grab a cheese danish, after work to pick up a blueberry muffin for Isha.

It would have been less-than-chivalrous if she hadn’t begun offering to hang around until you closed shop so she could walk you home, would have been impolite to decline the Sunday afternoon taste-testing sessions you’d started inviting her over for.

She’s a gentlewoman. It’s only principle. That’s what she tells herself, at least.

That’s what she tells herself as her knuckles tap thrice on your door.

She starts to feel antsy again when you don’t come bounding to the door as usual, when your honeyed voice doesn't call out that you’ll be right there. She worries even more when you do reach the door, but it doesn’t swing open to reveal a bright smile, a pretty girl covered in flour and smelling of vanilla. Instead, you flick the deadbolt to the right, trail back to your room, and leave the door unlocked for her to enter of her own accord.

Her stomach turns like the doorknob she’s grasping, but as soon as the door opens, she knows what’s wrong.

The blossom of honeysuckle in the spring floats through the air. This much was a given; she knows this is what she’ll smell when she’s around you.

Tonight, though, it’s honeysuckle and something else. Something thick, hitting her like a brick wall. A white musk that nearly knocks her back when it crosses the threshold of your apartment door to meet her in the hallway.

She’s quick to step in and even quicker to close the door behind her. That scent was sure to attract unwanted visitors: Alphas looking to sink their gnashing teeth into something sweet.

She twists the deadbolt back to the left, her eyes darting across the room to find you. When that doesn’t suffice-when you’re nowhere to be seen- she follows your scent trail instead. Follows it back to your room, where her heart nearly breaks at the sight before her.

You’ve got what she figures must be every pillow in the house propped up against the headboard, every blanket you own pushed down to the foot of the bed, and you sit at the center of it all with your legs pulled into your chest, your head buried in your knees, and your arms wrapped around the ball you’ve curled yourself into.

There’s a pedestal fan pointed directly at you, despite the oversized sweater you adorn. You’re refusing to take it off, she bets. Want something soft and warm wrapped around you at all costs, even if it means you’ll sweat through it.

A soft grin spreads across her face as she approaches, slow and steady. It was her turn to calm your storm, now.

She sinks to her knees next to your bed, elbows resting on the flower-shaped throw pillow she remembers you buying when you were out shopping in the square with her one day. She’d taken a liking to it herself, always opting to rest her head on its pink petals as she stretched her long legs along the length of your couch, or holding it close to her chest as the two of you watched yet another horror movie you both knew damn well would keep you up all night.

She tries not to think too much of the fact that of all the pillows stacked upon your bed, it's the one you’ve got right next to you.

Her voice is nearly a whisper when she finally speaks, grey eyes soft and warm as they gaze up at you from her place on the floor.

“Hey, doll.”

All you manage to muster in response is a weary groan.

She exhales through her nose, eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“Rough heat?”

Your muffled sob cuts through the quiet, and her hand flies out to knead your thigh.

Her eyes widen in sudden consternation. Your skin is a brazier underneath her large palm.

“Janna,” she suddenly calls out, eyes frantic as they travel across your figure. “Y/n, you’re burning up. How long have you had a fever?”

She trades flesh for cold metal, anchoring her mech hand to your thigh in hopes that it’ll cool you down. Her right hand splays across your back, rubbing large circles across its expanse as you sniffle into your knees.

“Two days,” you mumble weakly, and much to her dismay.

Two days was too long for you to be in this state, nevertheless alone.

“I thought I’d have been claimed by now,” you admit, your voice wobbling.

“Don’t talk like that,” she commands. “There’s no timeline for this stuff. It’ll happen when it-”

“It’s not like that!”

Your head finally snaps up from your knees, teary eyes locking onto hers.

“It’s not… It’s not that I can’t find anyone. It’s that I can’t…”

Your voice breaks, and her hand trails up from your back to rest on the back of your neck, her thumb massaging the tightness at the base of your skull as she waits patiently for you to gather yourself.

You’re well aware that in the crux of an already grueling heat is not the best time to share an admission that very well could permanently alter your relationship with the woman you hold dearest. You’re also aware that you won’t be able to keep lying to Sevika for much longer.

You wouldn’t be able to keep lying to yourself for much longer.

Your words are still shaky despite the bracing deep breath you take before speaking.

“I can’t stand anyone else’s scent…”

Her hand stills, but her touch doesn’t falter. Her face doesn’t fall.

She’s still here. She’s still steady, still constant, but she needs you to be sure.

“Anyone else?” She asks, her voice low.

A small huff escapes you. You know Sevika. She doesn’t do vague.

She’s going to make you say it.

“I can’t stand anyone’s scent but yours.”

A pregnant pause settles in between the two of you.

And then, her hand is moving from the back of your neck to tuck a tendril of hair behind your ear.

“Do you want me to help?”

You nod fervently, words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them.

“Want you so bad, it hurts; please, Sev, I-”

Her lips crash into yours, stealing your breath away. Your heart is already racing, your core is already throbbing, you’re already whimpering into her mouth.

It was too late. You were sweet as honey, and she’d just gotten a taste.

 ──˚₊୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

It’s been hours. She’s been fucking you for hours.

You nearly feel bad for being so insatiable; only nearly, because she had made it very clear very quickly that you needn’t ever apologize for lasting so long, for needing the next round not even five minutes after the last, for wanting it faster, harder, deeper.

You needn’t ever apologize for allowing her the opportunity to take care of you.

Much to your dismay, sometimes taking care of you meant that she would slow down to check in, insist you take a breather, or get you a glass of water. Sevika knows that what you want is to be ravaged, to let your mind go all fuzzy and your body go all limp as she takes you, claims you, breeds you. Sevika knows that what you need is someone looking out for your best interest when you’re all-consumed by your heat, someone who knows that the responsibility of an alpha is to provide far more than a good fuck.

Still, she isn’t surprised that you nearly burst into tears when her pace begins to relent. Janna knows how hard it is for her to stop when you look so pretty laid out for her like this; legs thrown over her shoulders, hands desperately grabbing at firm muscle and cool metal, brows knit together in pleasure as you cry out for her.

She leans down to press a kiss to the beads of sweat forming on your hairline, and knows she needs to stop anyway.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you plead, wrapping your legs around her waist and rolling your hips up into her own, “please don’t stop, please keep going, Sev…”

She plants a kiss on your shoulder this time, the salt of sweat-sticky skin on her lips.

“You’re getting too hot, baby,” she purrs. “We’re not done, I promise. Just need to make sure you cool off for a second.”

You whine in defiance, and she hums in understanding, but you’re too fucked out to do anything but lay there and let her press a cool rag to your forehead and your flushed chest.

“You feelin’ okay, mama?”

She doesn’t miss the way your lip quirks up into the beginnings of a smirk.

“What?” She asks with a grin, bearing the gap in between her teeth. You’d told her it was cute once. The tips of her ears were dark red for the rest of the day.

“Don’t call me that,” you smile.

She just quirks a brow in playful curiosity.

“Not unless you plan on putting a baby in me.”

Her hands still. Her grin falters. For a moment, you worry that you’ve crossed a line.

Then, glittery grey irises go dark like a storm cloud rolling in. Her eyes are lidded, full of desire. Her jaw clenches, her nostrils flare, her muscles twitch for a split second.

Her head dips down to hide in your neck, but there, she finds that honeysuckle and musk hit her even harder here. You don’t miss the way her body writhes atop your own.

“Careful joking around like that,” she husks.

You buck your hips up in a challenge. “Who said I was joking?”

And then, she whines. Sevika whines.

“Couldn’t get you pregnant if I wanted to, doll,” she resigns. “I’m on suppressants.”

“That’s okay,” you coo, hands stroking up and down the length of her back, her skin warm and her muscles strong underneath your palm. “You can pretend. Jus’ want you to cum inside of me.”

This time, she growls, and you don’t miss the way her canines scrape across your pulse point.

She trails open-mouthed kisses from your neck, to your jaw, to the corner of your lips, breath shaky along the way.

Her resolve is crumbling, her restraint weakening. She had found you in need, and now, here she was, just as desperate as you had been.

“Come on, baby,” you urge, voice just over a whisper. “Take me.”

You're flipped over and pinned to the bed in a second. She yanks you up onto your knees by your waist, and her mech hand travels down your spine to push you further into the mattress while her flesh hand works to line herself up in between your legs. You gasp when you feel her sliding through your slick, whine when she presses an inch in before slipping back out and dipping down to nudge your swollen bud of nerves, groan when she finally presses into you completely, the head of her length prodding at your cervix.

She pants above you, both hands settling on your waist as she gives you a moment to adjust, and as soon as you're pushing back against her, she’s snapping her hips into you. Her grip is bruising as she pulls you back to meet every thrust. Your hands fly out to grab at the sheets next to you, your heady cries of pleasure muffled by the soft pillows piled at the head of the bed.

“How’s that? Huh?”

Her voice is gravelly from exertion. Sexier than it already is. How that’s even possible, you’re not sure. You don’t care. You can’t even think.

Sevika leans down to nip at your earlobe.

“Talk to me, baby,” she rasps. “This what you wanted? Wanted me to fuck a baby into you, hm? Wanted me to make you mine?”

You nod frantically, babbling out a yes, sobbing into the pillow. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, hiccupping against the breath you can’t seem to catch.

“I’ve got you,” she croons, her pace gentler now. “Deep breath for me, doll.”

Her flesh hand interlaces with your own, her thumb rubbing soothing circles into the meaty flesh between your thumb and your forefinger. You nod with a whimper, following her command.

“Good girl.”

She reaches down in between your slick-covered thighs to circle at your clit, rubbing lazy circles in tandem with her slow, deep strokes. She hisses at the feeling of your velvety walls clenching around her, grits her teeth as she begins to speed up.

You make it so damn hard for her to keep it together, reaching up to grab the hair at the nape of her neck and pushing her head down into your shoulder. She knows exactly what you’re asking for.

Her bite.

You’re asking her to sink her teeth into sugar, and Sevika’s always had a sweet tooth.

She clenches her jaw even tighter. Takes deep breaths through her nose. Fucks you into the mattress instead.

The bite will come later. When you’re not in heat, when you’re thinking clearly, when you can comprehend that what you’re asking for is to be bound to her. When it does come- when you do ask for that- she’ll say yes. No question.

She’s been yours since the moment she walked through the bakery’s doors nearly a year ago.

But right now, she’s here to take care of you. Nothing more, nothing in return.

A voice like honey rings out like music to her ears.

“Oh- fuck, don’t stop. Mm- gonna… gonna cum…”

“That’s right, baby. Give me another, yeah?”

And when she latches onto the juncture between your shoulder and your neck, sucking just hard enough for you to feel a dull pinch, you fall apart, her name tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

That’s when she liked her name most. When it came from you.

This time, it’s what pushes her over the edge. It’s all nearly too much; the sound of you moaning her name, your scent inundating her senses, the feeling of you tightening around her, the pulse that thrums against her canines.

Shimmer doesn’t even make her feel this feral.

You can feel her twitching against your walls as she fucks you through your release with a new vigor.

“Fuck,” she grits, “say the word and I’ll pull out.”

“Don’t.”

Sugar meets spice. Your command is stern, and Sevika is good at following orders.

She ruts into you with a broken moan, hissing with each involuntary twitch of her hips as she spills into you.

Soon, she joins you in a leaden slump, her warm body caging you in and her cock still sheathed inside of you. The hum of the pedestal fan and the rasp of your pants fill the room like white noise.

And then, you giggle. A blissed out, breathy giggle that has the corner of Sevika’s mouth quirking up into a smile.

“What?” she pants.

“Nothing. Jus’ happy.”

She hums in contentment. “Feel better?”

“Much better.”

And Sevika can’t ignore the way her heart flutters, the pride she feels knowing she was able to take care of you, the desire she has to take care of you for as long as she lives.

The bite will come later, she reminds herself. Right now, there’s just you. Sweet as honey.

“Good,” she muses. “That’s what I’m here for.”

𝐄𝐧𝐝 ୨ৎ

 ──˚₊୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

p.s. anybody want pt.2 feat. reader getting sev's bite...?

[jessieisacatgirl]

Omg thx :3

My tumblr notes when mutuales clock in to like my posts

[viceandmature]

Mature and Vice winquote banter

[valeisaslut]

Thinking about eating collide!ellie out backstage while she still has her mic on 🤭

oh you’re evil. you’re evil bcos you’re abusing the fact i’m ovulating and writing smut blurbs like a maniac. and you just painted THE picture. and i love you for that.

so, here we mf go.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

it starts reckless. the way it always does with you two.

ellie’s just finished the second-to-last song of the fireflies’ set. she’s glowing, sweaty, flushed, guitar slung across her back, breath heavy into the mic when she mutters, “five minutes, and we’re back for the finale.”

crowd goes wild. lights dim. backstage techs scatter. she tears the guitar off, tossing it to some poor assistant, and stumbles into the green room, wiping her face with the hem of her tank top.

you’re waiting. arms crossed. glitter on your cheeks and something sharper in your smile. you’re dressed in sin—tiny little skirt, lips glossed, eyes hungry.

“jesus christ,” ellie pants, grabbing a water bottle off the table and downing it. “you’re gonna kill me lookin’ like that.”

you just smirk, sauntering up to her, running a finger down her chest. “maybe you deserve it.”

her eyes darken. she drops the water bottle. “yeah?” she murmurs, low and cocky. “gonna punish me, popstar?”

you hum, almost sweetly. “thought i’d reward you. you’ve been so good out there.”

you drop to your knees like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

ellie swears under her breath. “fuck, baby—”

you shove her against the wall. quick. efficient. she’s still got the mic pack clipped to her jeans, the wireless mic tucked up at her jawline.

she clicks it off—

—or thinks she does.

you tug her jeans open, low and desperate, and whisper:

“you sure it’s off, rockstar?”

“honey, i'm a professional,” she pants, cocky as hell—then gasps when you lick up the line of her thigh, slow and teasing.

you don’t respond. you just dive in.

ellie’s head hits the wall with a soft thud. one hand tangles in your hair, tugging. the other spasms at her side, desperate for somewhere to grip. you’re relentless—messy, thorough, licking into her like you’ve been starving for it.

“fuck—fucking perfect, baby,” ellie groans, trying to keep it together. her hips jerk. her thighs clamp around your shoulders. “mouth like a fuckin’ angel. s’good—”

you hum against her, smug, and she almost collapses.

what neither of you realize—because you’re both too wrapped up in each other, too drunk on it—is that when ellie clicked her mic off, it didn’t fully disconnect.

the faintest, broken noises are still spilling into the speakers—breathless gasps, little whimpers, the wet obscene sounds of you licking her open.

the stadium listens. confused, at first. then the realization hits like a shockwave.

wolf whistles.

shouts.

chanting her name.

ellie comes apart with a sharp, raw cry—choking on your name, hips bucking, thighs trembling. you ride her through it, slow and filthy, tongue greedy, nails scratching down her hips

she sags against the wall, panting, eyes wild, still shaking.

“holy shit,” she breathes. “holy fucking shit.”

you wipe your mouth, look up at her with a wicked little grin. “you’re welcome.”

but then, the unmistakable sound of 20 thousand people chanting–

“ELLIE IS GETTIN’ LAID! ELLIE IS GETTIN’ LAID! ELLIE IS GETTIN’ LAID!”

you both completely freeze.

look at the mic pack clipped to her waistband.

then at each other.

“…no fucking way,” she whispers.

you blink. “way.”

“holy—holy fuck—i—” ellie scrambles to yank her jeans back up, smacking her head into the wall, her face blazing red, looking like she’s about to die on the spot.

you collapse onto the floor laughing so hard you can’t breathe, wiping your eyes.

“BABE. BABE. YOU JUST GAVE A WHOLE-ASS MOANING CONCERT TO AN ENTIRE STADIUM. YOU’RE PROBABLY TRENDING ON TWITTER RIGHT NOW.”

ellie flips you off. then pulls you up by the wrist, drags you flush against her chest.

“you think you’re funny, huh?”

you grin up at her, all faux-innocent. “i know i am.”

she kisses you like she’s starving. still tastes like sin. still tastes like you.

in the distance, someone yells into a mic:

“PUT IT ON THE BIG SCREEN!!”

and even more deranged chanting

“GET IT ELLIE! GET IT ELLIE! GET IT ELLIE!”

and when she goes back onstage for the final song, cheeks flushed, lips bitten red. taps the mic, smirks at the crowd, and mutters,

“don’t act like yall didn’t like it.”

the screams almost collapse the stadium.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

[starfish-comics]

Kind of like this?

a vampire stroking ur hair as they're fangs deep in ur neck. u agree

[winterishopefvl]

warnings: amab ellie, unprotected sex, needy/whiny ellie, breeding kink, overstimulation, porn no plot lol but established relationship. not proof readddd

ellie's hands were tight around your hips that it hurt, the pain was dizzying. you could feel her cum leaking out of your poor, abused pussy, but you could also feel her cock pumping in and out of you after god knows how many rounds.

"baby," ellie's breath hit the shell of your ear, her voice a low whimper. you didn't know how long she'd been going, or how many times she'd cum, you could barely form a single thought at all, "need– fuck, babe, i need to knock you up."

her hips picked up in speed and the sound you let out was almost a scream, so overstimulated it almost hurt. ellie's pitiful cock was aching from how many times she'd cum, she was exhausted, but she didn't dare stop. she wanted to breed you, she needed it.

needed to see your tummy swell with her babies, needed to watch her cum spill out of your pussy just so she could stuff it back inside with her fingers. the little squeaks that kept leaving your mouth were so adorable, she couldn't help but grab one of your legs to place it up on her shoulder.

the new angle made your mouth fall open in a silent moan, your shaky hands came up to rest on her hips, nails biting into her skin, "e–ellie," you cried out when the tip of her cock hit your cervix. one of your hands held the back of her neck, keeping her head pressed against your shoulder.

"gonna look so– so fuckin' pretty, sweetheart," she panted in your ear, her fingers curling into the sheets beside your head as her cock throbbed inside you. your walls clamped down around her with the force of your rapidly approaching orgasm, making her choke on a groan.

a whimper tumbled from your mouth when two of her fingers came down to rub your clit in sloppy circles, involuntarily bucking your hips up to suck her cock in deeper. her other hand lifted the back of your knee so your other leg was on her shoulder too, her cock impossibly deep inside you, "oh, fuck!" your nails dug into the nape of her neck as she repeatedly rammed her thick length inside you over, and over again, clamping down hard around her when your juices gushed all over her cock.

ellie fucked you through your orgasm, reluctantly pulling her fingers away from your clit. she picked up her speed a tiny bit, using you like you weren't her girlfriend anymore, like you were just a hole for her to fill. ellie buried herself inside you to the hilt, spilling her sticky load inside you for what felt like the hundredth time tonight.

ellie's voice, her cock, her cum, it all made your head spin. you weren't even sure if you could handle another orgasm, or if you could handle more of her cum. your pussy couldn't hold any more of it, it was evident in the way it leaked from your hole and onto the sheets underneath you.

your girlfriend noticed, as she always did, and it made her pout.

under any other circumstances, you would've cooed at her and called her adorable, but you knew that look, she wasn't done. god, you didn't know if you could take any more.

your theory was proven right when she pulled out of your weeping pussy, hearing her whine when her cum spilled out onto the sheets. she wanted to breed you, but how was she supposed to do that when her precious cum wasn't where it needed to be?

ellie's fingers came up between your legs, making your thighs shake when she scooped some of her cum out from your cunt, then bringing her hand up to your open mouth and stuffing her fingers in your mouth. you were surprised at first, but then you sucked on the digits eagerly, swallowing every bit of her cum on them.

and while you were distracted, ellie was already inserting her cock back inside you, rolling her hips into you lazily. her middle and ring fingers pressed down on your tongue when you tried to protest, leaning over you to kiss your nose, "just let me have this? i gotta get you pregnant, babe, i need it."

you listened with a whimper, of course you did. you might've been tired, but you wanted this as bad as she did.

so with a bob of your head, you spread your legs wider for her, a tear of overstimulation slipping down your face.

ellie smiled at the sight, lowering her mouth down by your ear, "that's my sweet girl."

i need ellie to get me pregnant so bad its actually concerning now

also thanks for 300 followers :3

[karlovycross]

My flesh, my home 🦪 🫧

[lurkingheartbrat]

please? 🥺💕

not to sound like a whore, but can we go to an aquarium date?

[sapphicides]

the women of america were once promised that butch dykes would be lurking in all corners of society, ready to corrupt our minds and turn us all gay. what ever happened to that. where are the butches uncle sam.

[welcome2h]

Happy Valentine's Day! Here are some gay robots :3

[theartofmadeline]

yeah i'm wlw (wench loving wench)

[lesbianhouseplant]

Ah yes, the 3 genders. Male, female, and “what the fuck are you, a cop?”