quiet movie night where their head is in your lap and youre playing with their hair as you both doze off
What do I need to do for you to realize I'm falling for you
i just wanna be somebodies wife already, is that too much to ask for?
leftists are so hot omg you can get it for free babes💕
i just love pussy
by which i mean I just love ~your~ pussy
by which i mean i just love ~you~
Me: Hmmm i dont know if i like girls or not?
Also me: *literally pining for a girlfriend, making sure i look hot in case of potential gf, daydreaming about going on dates with gf*
Yall I need a brave gf so bad i just destroyed half of my living room trying to get rid of a spider without getting near it😭
Sureeee i KNOW how to do basic repairs and use tools but wouldn’t it be way more fun to pretend i didn’t so a really intimidatingly attractive butch could teach me
I would kiss those tender lips until the very secrets of my soul were laid onto her mouth.
Haha yes i have four essays due soon yes i spent all day watching wlw tiktok compilations on my tv and playing breath of the wild while buried in four blankets instead of working on them haha it’s all good
All the nails getting done today 🤣🤣
I mean yeah sure i don’t have a girl to write love letters to but I’ve still got one more divine beast quest in botw so it’s cool ig
Want a gf to buy stuffed animals with so we can call it our son and share custody
Very offensive how I have two hands but no girl’s face to cradle between them
I swear sapphic people be holding hands in front of me like hello yes please don’t do that I will cry because your are living my dream
Very tragic day, dad just called and woke me up from my nap
♱. closer than this
♡ week 2, day 7
♡ pairing: vivian/f!reader (npfh)
♡ warnings: explicit (18+), fem!dom, fingering, orgasm denial, bondage, praise kink kinda
♡ word count: 1.7k+
♡ song rec: dreamgirl by tanerelle
“Patience is a… well, a virtue or so they say.”
In response, you only yank on your padded handcuffs again, openly scowling. Vivian’s catlike stare remains fixated on you, followed by a lazy blink. Then another. Her near pitch-black irises devour your naked form; a tiny, impersonal smile pulling at the edges of her full mouth.
She’s dressed already. Her generous, beautiful curves are hugged by yet another designer number. Tan, cashmere long sleeves, and tailored slacks. The long, thick braid of her black hair hangs over her shoulder and there’s not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in sight. Fresh clothes, fresh makeup. The best Siren of her generations regards you with idle interest. But it's impossible to miss flecks of heat simmering away in her.
Inch by inch, her stare drags down from your heaving breasts — marks, you know she's staring at the teeth marks she left near your nipple, a place hidden from everyone but you — down to your bare core.
Impulse almost forces your thighs together but as if sensing the instinct, Vivian places her hand on your knee. It’s a light touch yet one to freeze you completely.
“None of that now,” she voices mildly, stroking your knee. “I’m enjoying the sight, sweetness.”
“We’re done here.”
Vivian laughs. It’s a husky, deep sound for a woman. Like smoke and crackles of wood being devoured by the flame. God, the things her voice does to you. You’ve never encountered a voice more seductive, more devastating when whispering filthy promises into your ear.
“Are we? Is the princess getting mouthy again?” she poses with a raise of her eyebrows, visibly enjoying the deepening of your scowl at her misplaced nickname. “Perhaps I didn’t do a good enough job of fucking that attitude out of you last night.”
Her words are so gentle, near purring, something in your gut twists and withers instantly. Her eyes widen comically, her strong hand sliding between your thighs, rubbing and squeezing.
“Oh. Well, guess I was right,” she says, the tip of her braid tickling against your knee. “Did I not satisfy you?”
Siren poison drips from her glossy lips. She’s warm and larger than life without the need to shout or run her mouth. Near intoxicating mix of control and innate charm. Maybe that’s why you keep requesting her presence, finding some excuses to make her your company as often as you can.
You’re perfectly aware of the fact she’s using you for the Syndicate. She’s a Siren. That’s what they all do, gathering information and dealing in it however it suits them only as long as it serves the ones to hold her chain.
Yet you can’t resist. She cajoles secrets out of you but they seem like a small price to pay for her hands and mouth on you. Or her strapon when she shoves you face first into the plush pillows beneath you and fucks you until you’re practically boneless beneath her.
She’s the only person to ever make you beg until you’re near hoarse with need. If only because her adoring pets and delicious murmurs of praises enfold you after like a warm bath after.
“I love how needy you are when you wake up,” she continues conversationally, her fingers cupping your sex. Her thumb circles your folds, lingering near your entrance. “But you don’t get freebies, sweetness. It’s not how we play. What do you say?”
The handcuffs rattle from how hard you yank on them again in an attempt to touch her.
Your narrowed, furious glare bites into one side of her face. Vivian's golden skin glows in the bright hue of the morning sun, the curve of her smile boiling your blood. Despite the said smile, her features are set; solemn, examining you closely.
“I’m not begging,” you spit out.
Your mouth might be saying so, but your hips involuntarily grind into her hand, seeking more contact.
Vivian’s free hand grips your knee, shoving it aside, pinning in there. Now on her knees on the bed, she shoves your legs apart, splaying you out before her obscenely. No different from last night. Your pride didn’t last particularly long then, either. It doesn’t mean you will just bend to her will though. If anything, the reward for disobedience is far higher with her. Sweeter albeit more punishing. The cuffs click again, not hurting but certainly obstructing you in your quest for more.
“No?” she whispers coolly against your pelvic. It’s as if a switch has flipped inside her. “Shame.”
Something about the light, airy way she articulates that single word causes goosebumps to explode across your skin. It slithers down your body, burrowing under your skin. If you know anything about Vivian it’s that this moment of disobedience will come back to haunt you sooner rather than later.
A finger slides into you suddenly, curling, and you gasp at the fiery lick of pleasure to slice through you with it. Your limbs jolt, your back arching off the bed, strained by the handcuffs and you twist in her hold. Her hand sinks into your hip, holding you down, her smile placid, sweet almost.
She's deceptively in control of every inch of you. Every sensation. She pumps into you steadily — not rushing, not slowing, just torturously… persistent. At the back of your mind, you can’t help but consider whether this intimate knowledge she has of your body she managed to gather over time herself, or if it's her Siren training leading her. Showing here where and how to touch. You don’t consider how many others she may have touched like this, held captive in her grip till they were coming apart in her hands. Being a Siren is not always about sex — some rarely partake in it at all, their training reassuring they're far more skilled in human behaviour and coercion than that — but some excel in the shortcut. None more so than her. A fact she's openly proud of and rightfully so.
The shortening of her name is all you manage. The woman in question only slants her head, an absentminded gesture while she peers down at you. She strokes your skin, sliding another finger into you and your thighs tremble. A fine layer of sweat covers your skin and you thrust your hips forward, eager for more fullness, more contact. More her.
You want last night again. You, at her mercy despite your snarls and pride. How expertly she cracked it. Only she could get you to sit on the bed naked for ten minutes preceded by a single, throaty command to touch yourself, part your legs, fuck yourself as she commands you to. Show her exactly what you want her to do to you.
You did. In explicit, painstaking detail.
“Use your words, darling,” she instructs, still painfully controlled, cool. It makes you wonder if you will ever be able to crack past the construct. What she gives everyone else. You want a version of this woman no one else has. Maybe it's an obsession, some twisted possession, but ultimately you just want her to be happy. “Do you think I’m just going to tolerate you coming all over my hand without a price?”
“That’s—” your voice cracks when she curls her fingers again, dragging them against a particularly sensitive spot. A moan splinters out of your chest and you grind your jaw, frustrated. “That’s not fair.”
The Siren laughs under her breath once again, her voice like a lick of an open flame against your too-tight skin.
“Life isn’t fair, sweet girl. And I’m far from merciful. Now be a good girl for me and beg.”
She builds pace, more furious, more demanding with the stinging snap of her command. Frustration mixes with pleasure and you’re so wet you can hear every slide of her fingers in and out of you. Then, just as you’re about to tip over the edge, a volcano bubbling in your gut, she ceases her movement. Everything goes silent. Only your open shaky pants sound between you.
You want to crawl out of your own skin, splinter to pieces. Vivian only examines you with a curious look.
Chewing on the inside of your cheek and hot with exasperation, you finally give in.
“Please,” you breathe out, staring at her, a buzz like a livewire under your skin. “Please, Viv.”
Her full mouth stretches. “So beautiful and good for me,” she purrs, pushing her fingers back into you and your lashes flutter, toes curling in anticipation.
But then the touch is gone.
Cold nothingness embraces your heated skin, leaving you hollow on the brink.
Your eyes snap open to find Vivian’s fingers between her lips, sucking on your arousal with open delight. Her fingers slide out of her mouth after another hard lick, her tongue swirling the digits purposely, so it’s in full view of you.
“Still the most delicious I’ve ever tasted.”
Normally you might have preened under the compliment regardless of how authentic it may or may not be. This time you find little to no amusement in the situation.
“But nothing,” she cuts off, still smiling but there’s a sneaky, sly edge to it. Her eyes hooded, she surveys your shivering body, stroking down your leg and a low groan of need slips out of you. “You haven’t earned your release, sweetness. We really need to work on that pride of yours. Tsk, tsk. You can touch yourself after I’m gone. Can even get creative with those pillows if you prefer. Perhaps housekeeping will offer a helping hand if you ask them nicely.”
You twist to look at her when she stands, stretching to her full height. Her figure stands haloed by the bright light. She’s dangerously beautiful. Fierce with feminine confidence you’ve never encountered in a woman before.
“The key is under the pillow,” she says playfully, grabbing her bag and winking at you over her shoulder. It's as if the last ten minutes haven't happened at all. “You’re a clever girl, I’m sure you can figure it out. Let’s do this again some time.”