#violet arcane

[lav1nd3r]

my favourite dysfunctional sisters

[simplytomh]

this is based on the artwork of rhaenicent by tcn_tancha on x. please see the replies for the link!

[limerlove]

romantic devil.

eighteen+ plus, minors dni. content warning: wc 1.6k, a silly trope my brain loves right now — hockeyplayer!vi x tennisplayer!reader. light teasing, smut, enemies to lovers trope, competitive athletes, slight degradation, dubcon (both reader nd vi are slightly drunk), thigh-riding, oral, fingering, praise kink.

hi my violet lovin gays! i am back on the arcane grind. a (maybe) series and the first part is linked below. honestly, this can be read on its own. but this is progress in my eyes and i hope you enjoy. been struggling with completion but we fuckin’ did it. hell the fuck yeah. plus, our fav hockeybutch ♡

hockeyplayer!vi can’t let you live down the undeniable squirting in the locker room in-between your training matches. it’s not like it’s all she can think about. no — it could never be the reason she can’t focus in her own practice. you’re the bane of her existence, the competition for the hottest headlines, and she would love nothing more than to squash like a bug. but for reasons she won’t admit, vi can’t.

even if it’s your off-season, your name sells enough and she sees you everywhere.

it’s not a secret how much you’re adored by the media, the public, and even by everyone vying for a single ounce of your attention. seen and always heard. vi can’t stand it and you do nothing to hide your pure-shot of joy running rancid in your pearly-white grin.

it’s surprising, how much vi lets it dig underneath her skin. the most shocking things of all if vi’s being honest with herself. a pesky thought lingers, one warning caution, especially when vi was fucking someone else but thinking of you.

when the blade of skates glide across the ice, another body checks her into the glass, a lot easier than she should have allowed. her concentration can’t help but fade away into the sunshine of your brightest smile.

she needs to do something about it.

hockeyplayer!vi sneaks up on you when she spots you in the library. alone. in one of your short tennis skirt and vi wonders if it’s your own to torture her. nose buried in your book, headphones over your head, and you’re so lost in your work you don’t even notice her sneak up on you.

“don’t you have somewhere to be?” violet churns out, the instigation prophecy she hopes to fulfill is more than evident. “you always practice on wednesdays.”

the smirk you wear is evil, some would even say malicious. “some would say keeping tabs on me would be stalker-like. oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

“you’re being ridiculous.” vi knows she’s been caught but she won’t be handcuffed into your narrative — however true it may ring she won’t give you the satisfaction of hiding the key. burying her pride along with it.

“it’s nothing — but i’ve just been…hearing some things.”

“so, you’ve actually been listening to something other than the sound of your own voice?”

an immediate eye roll is granted as you slam your book shut, eyes squinting tightly and you’ve got this smile. a dead-ringer for the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. it’s dangerous and even scathing to be around let alone witness.

“yeah, i have.”

she hates this. when you have the upper hand and there’s little to nothing she can do about it. even if vi knows how you taste, or the face you make when you’re brought over the edge, you have a godly control over her as if you’re the messiah she needs forgiveness from.

vi feels the need to repent when you’re stroking the inside of her exposed thigh, the shorts not doing much to conceal her skin. you’ve cornered her with a faulting need to have your greedy split her open like she’s the pomegranate — a beady and bloody vessel you desperately need to rip apart.

the idea of your affection truly aimed at her is nauseating. something you would never allow to be true.

plausible deniability, it’s what every atom in your body is made of.

“stephanie is quite the jealous woman. seems she wasn’t a fan of hearing me scream your name.”

“yeah princess, i know you’re just really torn up about it. it’s not like you’ve been wanting to stick it to her since freshman year.” like the fuckgirl she is, the vying-violet leans forward with your fingers sliding further into your shorts, daring you to inch forward.

“see! this is why we would never work. you’re so goddamn—”

“so, you have been thinking about us.” vi’s cocky grin will haunt you for the next week, letting her have a small fraction of satisfaction.

hockeyplayer!vi who does her best not to sweat it when you show up to one of her games with your best friend. it’s the best game she’s played all season. your presence warrants nothing but success. there’s not a moment she allowed herself to be off. you’ll give her absolute shit for it. especially after all the game she’s fucking talked to you all week.

you leave by the time she’s showered and walking through the arena and back to her car. to her surprise, she receives a dm through her instagram.

10:39 pm. ace_princess: nice game, violet.

simple. barely even noticeable to the naked eye, but that’s as nice a compliment vi would receive from you. violet tries not to smile too wide but the muscles in her cheeks have other plans.

10:43 pm. violet_vanderson: did you actually just compliment me?

vi thinks to herself — she’ll just leave me on read.

10:55 pm. ace_princess: don’t get used to it.

hockeyplayer!vi happens to be at a party with you, how convenient. the first thing she notices is how different you are tonight. you’re usually so disciplined, so perfectly-polished, the perfect picture princess — the one your father created. molding a star takes more work than one would think but if anyone understands, it’s vi. laying before her is nothing you’ve achieved to be. actually, you’re the embodiment of quite the opposite.

cheap red solo cups, the wave of cannabis infiltrating your system, and in the most pompous brit of them all, caitlyn kiramman. ideally, this wouldn’t have been your night. before your father had berated you, telling you to ice her out.

mija, no distractions. this is your chance, what you’ve been working for your entire life.

not the words you’ve been wanting to hear. no, not at all.

you couldn’t tell violet anything, because if you did, it would somehow make it true. you’d have to look her in the eyes again, knowing you’d have to deny her of whatever wishes she tried to press.

hockeyplayer!vi who can practically sniff the fear off of you. like a bloodhound, she sought you out when she pressed forward into her ex-girlfriend’s home. some might say tasteless but you forced her to be an opportunist. violet refused to leave your side, until half of the party had been abandoned and it was just the two of you in the basement — the both of you tremendously tipsy.

maroon-hued silk, a fabric tailored so short it could hardly be called a dress kisses your thighs as violet threatens to push the material upwards. pointed canines nibble on the skin of your neck, lacing the most refined poetry as she etches each letter with a richly-velvet tongue.

“this— violet…” it’s supposed to be solidified, a warning to heed her aggression, but it only gives her lips more incentive to explore new terrain.

“you can ride my thigh, princess. i know you’re dying for something.” violet’s hot breath is torture; practically branding you with unequivocal remorse.

someone who wasn’t inebriated would force her to at least take you back to her place or kick someone up stairs. not in a temporarily vacant basement where anyone could descend at any moment.

her python fingers might as well have pierced you, fingers gliding over a thin layer of lace but she wastes no time, not like before. this is different.

“take them off.” not before violet makes you whimper, pressing your slick against the fabric. the torture seems to be never ending, making an absolute mess of you, fingers rooted in her devilishly-pink roots.

sliding the panties off, you shove them in her back pocket, “this is the last time you’ll be getting them.”

“we’ll see about that.”

hockeyplayer!vi can't seem to be done with you. first, it was letting you get off on her thigh, bare fucking pussy exposed as glid against her exposed skin. your swollen lips puff even more for her. spreading your cum on twitching, sun-kissed thighs.

the second time, all it takes is your ass up high, your body bent over the couch, hem scrunched up at your stomach. it’s inhumane how you don’t have control when it comes to vi and her hypnotic tongue.

every bit of this is so unlike you. you don’t do this. and you tell yourself this has nothing to do with violet vanderson. it doesn’t mean anything how jealous her little groupies were earlier in the night when she ushered you to take a seat in her lap.

“pretty girl, fuck you can take it so well baby.” violet slurps every drop and if anyone asks — she swears you taste of sweet, homegrown-raspberries kissed by the most golden-hued honey. “can’t stop thinking about taking you to my bed and fucking you either my strap.”

in truthfully pathetic fashion, you cum the moment she says it. the tease of her tongue and the power of her brutally curved fingers sends you over the edge for the second time tonight. while you don’t squirt like the first night, there’s a thorough soak to her black-polished fingers.

“vi, baby—”

the pet name causes vi’s clit to throb viciously. “i know, princess. you did such a good job for me tonight. my perfect girl.”

you moan. the people’s princess moans as you push yourself against her fingers that are keeping a slow rhythm, her sensitivity be damned. god did you fucking love it.

“mhm, did you like that? like when i tell you how precious and good you are for me. letting me take care of this pretty pussy for you.”

“vi, fuck, keep going—” the arc to your back is downright sinful and violet wants to push your limit. just a hair.

gripping onto your luscious curls, she pulls, bending you to her will, her skilled fingers stretching you to the best of her abilities. vi wonders if it’s the alcohol or if she’s finally cracked you, but she decides whatever the reason is — violet’s not letting go of you anytime soon.

[venushollows]

and im just supposed to go about my day after this ???

[szxvivi]

[grotesquevi]

riva’s side note  #  i want to take special time on thanking from the bottom of my heart to @mxya-dreams who helped me out in doing the greatest proof read in the universe, not only she's my private editor, but the kindest girl in this place. if my english is better than you recognize in this? may be because she just where art thou why not uponeth me? the fuck of this. hope you guys love loud bark deep bite, im so excited for this also?? iNSANE.

art bellow in one of the windows belongs to blkfairyy0 on x, black hair violet gives me chills idk, edited by your girl aka me wc: 2.5k

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ series masterlist || chapter song || chapter #01

there's a subtle smell of sweat in the gym that makes violet vanderson scrunch her nose in disgust: how is it possible that the unmistakable smell of humans stuck to everything? the ceiling, the machines, the damn walls.

there's a red envelope on the reception table (which she treats like a personal desk) that says in big red letters how's it’s matter of the utmost urgent response. however, as much as it's clearly labelled as important, it seems to be forgotten in an ever growing pile of papers who expose just how shitty her finances were getting lately as all the graphics seemed to go downwards.

why are people suddenly not working out anymore? and more importantly — why are people not working out at her gym? were powder's designs too much for fit stuck-ups? she had a nice place, good rates, every day she blasts hella good music through the speakers only to be cutting expenses for what? three months already? numbers decreasing along with her faith in humanity.

she's recurring to everything at this point. dog walker, worst waiter ever, she even thought about doing porn when she saw an announcement on a website that was calling out for 'lesbians interested in quick money', ticked all the right boxes before backing out the very same day.

so obviously it makes sense she has now come to sell weed. embarrassing herself to the point where she's been offering green to frat kids, who vi wouldn't dare to even talk to if it wasn't out of pure necessity. people in their twenties who look so full of life, meanwhile she wishes she was in bed under twenty blankets and a glass of whiskey gripped in  her fingers, shutting the world out just because she wants to.

sweat.

she's thinking about how much she hates other people's sweat when her phone buzzes with a notification that catches her eye immediately. It lights up the empty gym (since there was a storm forecasted that same night) friday night. she's a little curious as to why nobody has reached out to buy when she makes sure to have top-nugs-category: she's selling fucking purple weed, people should be lining up outside.

however, despite her ego being bruised, she reaches for the phone anyway to find a number she doesn't have saved in her contacts.

lena. she makes an effort to remember who exactly this person's talking about before she flashes a good memory from last week, that lena. cute mom she met in a club over the weekend, nice tits, drunk as fuck since she blatantly flirts for fun: good client, safe money. she stumbled upon lena and her group of mom-friends who seemed to be on this crazy-night-out they must pull once every six months or so.

she stares at the phone for a while not really sure what to say — what if it’s a fucking cop? she knows the tactics enforcers use to deal with micro-trafficking, even though vi’s sure her contribution to the drug society is far less intimidating than tony montana’s first years as a baby.

so, logically, she should be saying no. declining cause she doesn't want to go to jail and vi doesn’t want this to blow up in her face: what would powder do if she went to jail? the question makes a shiver run down her spine, she’s definitely not ready to find out. ever.

the owner of ‘the last drop energy’ is ready to make an excuse before another text pops up with a bop sound and she’s looking at the screen again, blue eyes already tired from how much shit she’s been doing the entire day — vi's too old for this.

blame her tender and bruised heart, blame her good will and trust for people cause she knows lena, a mother that seems stressed. maybe it's someone from her bookclub or someone of the sort searching for the good old way to relax, it's coherent after all, makes sense and gives her enough reassurance to back up in words.

despite any warning her brain might give, she needs money. urgently.

she's bad at calculating time cause it's past midnight when vi's parking the motorbike outside your house in the suburbs. her pride and joy, the engine roars loud enough to wake your neighbors as she's taking the helmet off and leaving it against the seat: no one this rich is stealing such a common helmet that looks like it’s barely being held together.

it's a nice neighbourhood anyway, a cute suburb with big houses and a nice design, pretty gardens with porches and thick doors, expensive, nothing like the places she's been living in her whole life — much different from her current place above the gym, her childhood home, as she stares at the garden of roses. it's so distant from her, so strange as she doesn't fit into the whole ‘perfect family life’ painting.

equipped with her trusty leather jacket, there's a two-headed dog design on her back, still on her knee pads securely wrapped around each leg when she's knocking on your door, being judged by your nosy neighbors as she can physically feel the weight of prying eyes on her, even when most of the lights in the other houses are already off.

she's having trouble concentrating for a minute. it catches her off guard, the universe almost calling her out for being so judgemental, so dumb for a minute cause you're not what she thought you were. hair tied in a messy bun, the jeans you're wearing hug your ass so fucking good that she stays silent and stares for a few moments when you're inviting her in, shame written all over your face as you soon state:

"i can't buy weed here, sorry i got gossip-loving-neighbors" and in every other situation, vi would've leave without saying a word cause it's one of her un-written rules: she doesn't go in people's houses, she doesn't do deliveries for new clients and she most definitely doesn't stare at anyone trying to do business with her the way she's doing with you — "you're vi right? sorry for being an awful client, can i offer you anything?"

crap. she thought you were older than you seem to be. it catches her off guard. lena looks older anyway.

"no, no. i'm fine. thank you." you're gesturing the couch, unaware of the whole shitshow vi's already got going on in her own head before getting curious as she looks at the large amount of art you have hanging on your walls, the nice wooden bookshelf with a big stair that seemed to be made to reach the upper shelves, some pictures and a lot of plants that were thriving. it's inevitable, she thinks, when you're this cool, this pleasing to the eye. it doesn't seem like a mom-house at all "got a nice place."

"thanks," you take pride in it, obviously. as you hold a glass of red wine to your lips, there's a knowing smile already tugging on the corners of your mouth. i designed it."

"are you some kind of interior designer or so?"

"architect " you correct her "i mean like, actually designed the house."

well that's hot. power's fucking hot. being in such control's fucking attractive. makes vi wonder if you're still married, searching for a ring on your finger which she doesn't find even when she makes sure of it twice: not married. you're not married.

so that's what it is then? were you trying to impress her? cause vi's such a whore for it already. it’s working damn right when it makes her mouth dry at the thought of it: was she imaging it all? good fuck. is it weird to say she wants you to flirt? that she wants you to try and impress her like a million girls have done before? it's not like the girls from piltover's campus, not like her regulars at the club. no. you're too busy to go out and waste a night drinking away, you have stuff to do, you're always busy and its different. hits her different.

a thousand movies seem to appear in vi's head and she's holding total liability of her actions when pleading guilty in her own brain: boring careers, boring small talk, dull personalities she doesn't really care about when she's selling like this— she forgot the last time she met someone interesting in a similar position. too many dumb fucks.

"lena told me you sell top-quality," you're pouring red wine in the glass cup you're holding between your recently manicured black nails before turning your attention back to her — "i'm really sorry for talking to you out of the blue, my friend told me it was fine."

"i did think you were a cop," vi replies, and the blunt honesty makes you chuckle for a moment. "almost left you on read."

"i knew it" your eyes narrow while she's pulling out an small pink bag of weed that she drops on the small table you have in the center, close to the glass that’s now stained with your lipstick "had to pull the big guns out there and told you it was for my little monster kid, can't leave him alone."

"i figured as much since your friend's also a mom" she understands, she really does. unlike most dealers out there vi got this thing called empathy. fucking hates people who ask to pay later, but kids? she can work with that "i didn't know how much you wanted, but i don't carry much with me usually."

"too much risk" you agree to her words as your fingers take hold of the package that she carefully made for you back at the gym — "its okay. i don't want much either, i didn’t smoke much until like- now."

"i can bring more if you like that. no worries."

she wants to give herself a slap on the back, congratulate her life choices cause she brought less than usual, afraid it was all a trap, but now? now you can call her again, ask for more weed, have her coming again this late to see your pretty face.

"well, that's if you don't hate me, cause i wanted to ask if you have any pre-rolls? i don't think i own a grinder anymore" for fuck's sake. you're looking at her with those eyes, the right corner of your lips pulling into a smile and vi knows, a gut-like omen rising, that you're going to shit on her life even when she tries to avoid it since you have a face people raise religions up on. you're going to make her another one of your worshippers as you're laughing almost in a self-deprecating way.

she doesn't care if you don't have a grinder. if you don't have a lighter, if you don't own papers. hell she'd do it all for you.

"no" she admits only to see the pout in your lips since she's sold way before shaking her head — "but i'll help you out this time."

"this mean you're going to keep on selling me weed?" you ask, head cocking to the side as you question your new go-to dealer "even when i'll probably be an awful client?"

"well, proud to say i have patience" she admits, but not really. vi's saying it to see that smile on your face when she's opening up the package and an earthy smell fills the living room with the soft sound of the television in the background. "it's not like i sell weed to pretty moms in rich neighborhoods every day- i have a feeling you'll actually be a good client."

are you nervous? shit. of course you are.

vi can see it on your lower lip, in the way you try to stay distant even when she experiences the intensity of your gaze as her tongues poking out to lick the glue side of her own rolling papers. fingers swiftly moving to roll the weed you just bought. makes her blush for a moment cause hell — you're intimidating after all, an alluring magnet that seemed to drag her closer like  polar opposites, a force in the universe keeping her orbiting around like a moon to your planet.

"that's dylan" your dealer can hear you say, trying to break the ice when catching her staring at the picture of you and your son playfully posing. good to know, but, she was looking at you instead of the kid "he's the six-year-old reason as to why i can’t buy weed in a park."

that makes her laugh which then in turn, makes you laugh.

"he's cute" she replies, leaving the pre-rolls she was rolling on the table "he looks like you."

so it’s awfully clear that vi can't stop herself from flirting with you. can't fight the electric attraction filling the air almost immediately as she knows, by the look on your face that you're considering how bad it is to make out with a potential criminal sitting on your couch from a scale from one to ten.

knows it since she's thinking about it too, only, that in her head the positive outcomes outdo any potential bad ones.

"thank you, vi," you reply, cornered by a sword to  your neck and a wall at your back. politely talking cause you desperately need to keep distance between you two to be on your best behavior; not fall for your cute drug dealer as you walk her to the door tipping a good amount of money in a way of showing appreciation for her rolling you enough supplies to last at least a week. "can i save your number?"

"yeah" she states when walking down the front entrance before turning halfway around on the way to the motorbike, helmet still resting in the seat cause you live in a happy world, one with no thieves, no danger or menace — "see you around ma'."

so you lean against the door. arms crossed against your chest, you stare at her like a guard dog until she's leaving the property (can your neighbors be this crazy? or is it that you don't trust people easily?) and the deep sound of the bike disappears into the distance with the stars still shining up in the sky.

she's officially making plans on the first red light back home, not really caring about a husband, a kid or a rich neighbor aware of everything you do.

it's official when violet vanderson decides on making her business, absolutely yours. 

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤGROTESQUEVI, MMXXV © DO NOT FEED MY STUFF TO SHITTY AI, NOR TRANSLATE OR COPY TO ANOTHER PAGES.

[spideybutch]

When someone asks me what arcane is about:

[k9effect]

Women ✨️

[Click for better quality, reblogs and tags highly appreciated]

[Available as a print here!]

[sinstear]

fwb!vi x fwb!reader who act like they hate each others guts in public, always making snarky comments at each other, trying to steer clear of one another so they aren’t left alone in a room together, who both inwardly get insanely jealous when one of you flirts with someone else but won’t openly admit it because your arrangement with each other is so fucked up and kinda crazy. behind closed doors though? you’re always over each other, acting like you hadn’t see her for months at a time, when you both know it’s been 2 days. but it’s vi who falls first, slowly stops answering your calls, your texts, hates to see you flirt with someone who isn’t her; she doesn’t know you don’t fuck them, you can’t, wouldn’t be right. they aren’t her. she becomes distant, and avoids you solely because she’s falling in love with you.

it takes a week for you to fall harder, missing the warmth of her body next to yours, the subtle smirk on her lips when you’d say something so out of pocket before burying your face between her legs and making her cum over and over. you started to miss the soft kisses she’d leave on your shoulder, it wasn’t something you were used to, but you loved it, loved to feel the way she clung to you as you sunk the strap into her pussy, velvet walls clenching around the silicone tightly. even your ears missed the blessing sound of her moans, the soft gasps, the broken sobs with each thrust of your hips, practically devouring her.

and when violet’s alone in her apartment that night, the same apartment that was always filled with your shared kisses, the gentle touches, everything you both hide from the world, the silence becomes too much. she misses you, but she’s scared to reach out. worried if she spills how she feels about you, it would ruin something so special to her. she wants you, you want her, but you’ve both been hurt too many times. violet doesn’t know you’d do anything for her. nor do you know she’d anything for you.

the annoying one; alright, your silence is not doing it for me. m’coming over, you brat. we need to talk.

[shlutmeow]

the way it is canon that caitlyn grew up with dobermans as it is shown in the kiramman family portraits, i love that caitlyn grew up with dogs. i love my dobermans. omg baby cait w the puppies is adorable im sobbing

beautiful art cr: 2rusty_wings2 on twt

[juliettewrites4]

rock…..paper….. nah, definitely scissor ✂️✂️

more vi <3

[edalovesbetul]

Missed them SOOO MUCH that i can't handle anymore 😔😔😔

[saascs]

full art on twitter (baobeics)

[athenachen12138]

Still detectives au🥰

[feel-ing-blu-e]

Warnings: sub!r, dom!vi, r!receiving edging, overstimulation and fingering, tribbing, kinda desperate Vi towards the end

Summary: you and Vi headed out for the night with some friends and you had pretty much fun teasing her and bratting out. Until you arrived back home.

Words: 1.6k

(I'm not very sure about this one, it's like the first short story I write in, like, years??? But I also don't think it's that bad? I'll just leave it here i guess)

~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~

"V-Vi....please..fuck.. just let-let me c-cum" another frustrated moan escaped your lips, as your hips moved forward to her mouth, desperately looking for her soft tongue on your throbbing clit. Vi got you so close again, but without actually letting you have that mind-shattering orgasm you were going to reach, leaving you all squirmy and needy under her.

"We begging already, mh?" She looked up at you as she talked, her expression more amused than upset, she loved having you all needy for her like that "You have teased me in front of our friends, acting like a brat all night and now you even want to cum? Don't think you deserve it." She stood up on her knees, hooking her hands around your thighs, effortlessly yanking you against her and pushing your legs against your chest, so that she had your embarrassingly wet pussy completely at her mercy.

And even though she was basically torturing you at this point, slowly teasing you, you couldn't help but to look up at her and almost blushing from how stunning she was. She was the hottest woman alive, her pink mullet fitted perfectly her pretty face, as well as the black lines hugging all over her body which looked like was sculpted by some perfect goddess. And those big, strong biceps? God, you wanted to drool every time she was working on something, flexing her muscular arms. Then that pink happy trail, leading to her beautiful, hot bush, gods you could've eaten her out for hours.

"Poor thing, you are embarrassingly soaked. You must be aching, mh?" her eyes now locked on your wet cunt, her fake condescending tone made you even wetter if possibile and surely her fingers tracing excruciating slow circles on your throbbing clit weren't helping. "S-shut up" still your ego had to have the last words, so you managed to let out a few whiny words, which made her eyes go even darker.

"Still feeling bratty, mh? I don't think you're horny enough if you can still talk."

A loud, surprised gasp escapes your lips when she suddenly pushes two fingers deep inside your cunt, making your pussy clench hard around her as your head falls back into the pillow, loud moans escaping your throat as she starts to actually fingerfuck you. The talkback you were planning on long forgotten now. "Yeah...shut up and fucking take it." you were an absolute show to watch, all spread out for her, soaking her fingers, her sheets, your thighs, Vi could have fucked you for hours.

Even though it was all fun and games teasing you on how fucking wet you were, Vi herself was probably going to explode, her cunt was aching from her level of horniness. She just couldn't help it, you were too hot. Your body, your moans, your pretty face, your scent, your lustful, hazy gaze, the way you clenched so hard around her fingers. There was just something in you that made her go absolutely feral, since you two started dating she was feeling like a 14-year-olds teenage boy, always horny, always wet, always thinking about you, unable to keep her hands out of her boxer every time you were not with her. And now that you were completely naked, on her bed, all at her mercy, Vi swore she could have cum just by looking at you. And gods, she had to suppress a moan when a little squirt spurted out of your wet pussy landing right on her hand, making you whine even more. The way your cunt was clenching so hard on her fingers, the wet sound of your pussy filling the room, your pretty moans pouring out of your mouth, but Vi's favorite thing was listening to you trying to form any kind of coherent sentence and happily noticing the faster and harder she fucked you and the dumber you got by minute. It was a fucking show to watch for her: smartest woman she had ever met reduced to just a pretty, whiny, horny mess for her.

"Ngh-Vi, ple-f-fuck...ne-need to c-cu-ah"

Music for her ears. A cocky smirk formed all over her face as her other hand gripped around your neck, getting your attention back on her.

"You think you earned it?"

"Ah...y-y-yes...f-fuc-"

You were so close, she heard you held your breath the closer you got, still she knows you were trying to hold back until she allowed you to come.

"Good girl fucking hold it for me".

And you were actually trying so hard, you were digging your nails so hard on her forearm trying to get focus on anything else's other than her fingers perfectly fucking your pussy as her name kept on pouring out of your lips like a mantra.

The palm of her hand was pressing against your clit just so good and her fingers deep inside of your cunt were hitting that soft, spongey spot that makes you see stars every time. The tight knot in your stomach just so ready to explode and you hated how badly you actually needed her permission to have that mind-shattering orgasm you were chasing, to you, letting her decide when and how you could cum was the best mindfuck ever. And that's why when you heard her whisper under her breath "Go on cum for me then" your mind went instantly blank as wave after wave of pleasure completely overbeart you.

From Vi's point of view that was probably the hottest thing she has ever seen in her entire life, you coming completely undone after a simple whisper. You pussy gushing and clenching so hard on her fingers as a watery liquid mess was forming all over the sheets, followed by a more dense, white pleasure and, added to the sound of your desperate moans, Vi swore she had just cum too without even touching herself.

"So good for me...good girl...make a mess...make a fucking mess for me"

The pace of her fingers didn't lose a bit as she fucked you through your orgasm, her eyes glued to your throbbing cunt, keeping on whispering praises, until a little choked "please" caught her attention as your trembling legs closed tight around her arm. She gently pulled her fingers out, a smug smile printed on her face as she started kissing you back up your body, from you thighs, to your stomach, your breast, your neck, feeling how trembling and heavy breathed you still were, until she reached your lips, capturing them in a heavy sloppy kiss, which became heavier and messier second by second. She swore she would have gladly given you time to recover, but the puddle between her own legs was driving her crazy. That's why she couldn't hold herself back from spreading your legs again and starting to grind against your now overstimulated cunt, earning more whining moans from you.

"S-sorry babe...I-I am gonna be quick...I-just...fuck...need you, need you so bad" and how you could say no to that? After she made you cum so, so good, how could you not let her use you to get off? You just pull her down on you, arms wrapped around her neck as you kiss her deeply, accepting her sweet moans and whimpers of pleasure in your mouth.

She was close, you felt it in the way her nails were digging into your skin, how her movements were getting more frantic, messier, grinding all over you like her life depends on it, her face buried in the crook of your neck, her body trembling. Until you finally feel her stiffen up against you, holding her breath as her movements became deeper and more precise.

"Cum all over my pussy, come all over it" you whisper in her ear with a desperate whimper as you feel your own orgasm approaching rapidly, and then there she was, coming all over your wet cunt, doing nothing to suppress her desperate moans against your neck. Hearing and feeling her like that is enough to bring you over the edge too, making you dig your nails on her back, keeping on whispering and moaning her name until you both collapsed on each other.

"Fuck babe, that was amazing", Vi's breath still heavy as she rolled off of you to pull you in a tight hug "You good?" she gentle kissed you forehead, holding you tight against her "I haven't been too rough, have I?". She was always the sweetest after sex. You snuggle against her chest, throwing then a leg over her hips before gently brushing your fingers through her hair. You were still feeling dizzy and a bit hazey, you took a few seconds to process her words. "I'm feeling perfectly relaxed" you say with a little giggle, "Are you good?". She just hugs you tighter, snuggling herself against your chest, nodding against your skin, before leaving some gentle kisses on your skin. She was warm, she was the safest place you could have ever been and with sweet, soft kisses you both fell asleep in each other arms.