꣑ৎ catrina .ᐟ

Pulling your pants and panties down, spreading you open to eat you out. You’re moaning and grinding back into her mouth, whimpering when she toys with the sensitive skin of your lower back, pressing and brushing her nails against it. She’s mixing in the pain of the fresh tattoo with the feeling of her face buried in your cunt.

Which is what she loves to do. Loves to get you off with her whole face, loves it even more when you make a mess of her for it. Squirt over her face when she’s teased you and edged you for hours.

“Vika —“

“Shut up,” She growls against your cunt, plunging her fingers into your wet heat with an audible welch. “Marked yourself f’me, like a fuckin’ animal, baby.”

You moan and mindlessly nod to her words. “I-I am yours.”

“I know you are,” She smirks against your ass cheek, biting into you with such fury that it makes you cry out and for your cunt to squeeze her fingers.

She ravages you until you cum, until she forces you to whine and tremble while she laps your sensitive cunt after. Toys with your clit even as you reach back to try and push her head back.

It only makes her grab your wrists and pin them on the bed so she can shove her face into your cunt more. To suck on your clit and tease your empty, fluttering hole with her nose. You mewl and arch your back into her face, still sensitive and aching despite it all.

Sevika knows your body well enough to know what this means. When you arch your back so pretty, when your hole is trembling and trying to suck whatever it can in.

So who is she but yours, too?

Why wouldn’t she tell you to stay like that while she gets up and gets her strap? Why wouldn’t she strip and put it on and grunt at how wet she is from just tasting your cunt and your cum?

Of course she’d go over to fuck you into the mattress, growling at the sight of your damp, sweaty back with the pretty new mark on your back. Seeing and swearing she can feel your cunt take her in with such ease as she marks you as hers inside, too.

“Atta girl, baby,” Sevika’s thumbs press into the tattoo, her fingers around your hips. It makes you shudder and tears to fill your eyes as you moan. So much pleasure with a delicious edge of pain. “Squirt on this dick and then maybe I’ll let you rest.”

She stared at you for a full second, chewing with a deep, confused frown taking over her scrunched features.  

“Okay, so hear me out,” you started, eyes flicking between her and the screen as you pressed the spacebar again.  

SLIDE ONE: Look at your arms.  

You nodded as she slowly read the words, gesturing toward her bicep. “Tell me they’re not succulent. You’re lying.”  

Her nose scrunched up like it always did when she was trying not to laugh, choking on whatever last few bits of protein bar had gotten stuck in her teeth.  

“Alright, dramatic reaction—slide number choo.”  

She read aloud this time: “You’re my girlfriend. I should have bite privileges. That’s in the constitution.” 

She looked at you again, trying to keep a straight face. “Pretty sure that’s illegal in most states—”  

Irrelevant, so you proceeded with the third one.  

This slide, though, was actually a blurry photo of her asleep, her shirt half-off her shoulder. Captioned: “This part of you specifically,” with a red circle drawn around her collarbone that you tapped at promptly. “You knew what you were doing, don’t even look at me like that.”  

She snorted, covering her mouth. “Is that—when did you take that? Do you take pictures of me in my sleep?”  

“You left the window open. That’s on you.”  

“Christ.”  

The next slides consisted of a simple gathering of scientific proofs you had thoroughly selected the night before.  

One was about historical evidence: “Cavemen probably did it, and they were in love.”  

Then it was a pie chart labeled “How Much I Want to Bite You (spoiler: it’s 100%).”  

Then a piece of rushed poetry you’d written: “Teeth yearn for arms just like heart yearns for blood. Carnivorous romance.”  

Lastly, it was a screenshot of a DM you sent her last week that just said, “Can I gnaw gently on your forearm like a hamster with a chew toy?”  

By slide 42, she’s barely breathing, purple in the face for laughing too hard.  

It was a picture you’d secretly taken of her from behind, stretching after an intense workout, wearing nothing but a sports bra.  

Caption: “If I’m not allowed to bite this trapezius, then why is it shaped like a meat snack?? Explain.”  

Slide 52:  

Scientific research (from Wikipedia) titled:  

“Mammals that bite their mates as a bonding activity.”  

You pointed dramatically at the screen. “You see? Love. Science. God wanted this.”  

“Oh my god—” she laughed into the palms of her hands.  

“Splendid. Now wait till I get to 69.”  

“Wait till I get you in 69,” she wiggled her brows.  

“Unfunny, overall mediocre,” you deadpanned, hitting the keyboard violently.  

Slide 56:  

It’s Ellie’s own texts, screenshotted, where she once said, “You’re so cute I could eat you.”  

You zoomed in. “So who’s the real criminal here?” You stabbed at the screen aggressively.  

She cracked up. “That’s not what I—”  

“That’s a crime, you know.”  

Slide 58:  

Photoshopped fake news article headline:  

“Local Girl Hospitalized After Denying Girlfriend Bite Rights – Regrets Everything.”  

“Wow, this is—”  

“Yup, tragic, I know.”  

Slide 69:  

“You let me once. And you moaned.”  

A mic drop animation played before the screen went black, and she looked more offended than ever.

“Okay. First of all—fuck you. That was taken out of context.”  

You didn’t even say anything; raising your brow was enough to make her go on.  

“That wasn’t a moan; that was like... a grunt. A bite grunt. Like a reflex. Like when you hit your knee and it kicks.”  

“I’m going to hold your hand when I tell you this...”  

“NO. I’m defending my honor. That was not a moan. I don’t moan when you bite me.”  

You just snickered. “You literally arched into it!”  

“I HAVE A CURVED SPINE!”  

You lost it. She threw a couch pillow at your head, didn’t even aim, just rage-launched it while refusing to make eye contact.  

“So can I bite you?” you then asked.  

Ellie groaned, flopping backward onto the couch, one arm draped across her face. “You’re obsessed with me. It’s actually insane. You need help.”  

You crawled on top of her, hovering. “That’s not a no.”  

“It’s a cry for help.”  

You poked her cheek. “Still not a no.”  

She peeked out from under her arm. “Bite me and I swear to God—”  

Your open mouth, awaiting contact, inched closer to her arms.

She gasped. “NO ’CAUSE IF YOU DO I’LL—” She didn’t even finish the sentence before she shrieked-laughed and kicked at you, completely red.  

UNSCRIPTED

Actress!Ellie x Actress!Reader — Slow burn

you met in high school. theater kids, musical soulmates. fell in love under cheap fairy lights during a school play and never really stopped—messy, dramatic, inseparable. at 19, broke and in love, you filmed a few… videos. just for money, just to follow your dreams. but time did what time does, and you took separate paths.

now at 25, you're both famous. you're hollywood’s it-girl, smiling through red carpets and a PR fake boyfriend. ellie's the emmy-nominated actress with a model on her arm and your name still in her mouth.

but when tape leaks, ten minutes of passionate proof that you were hers and she was yours, the internet implodes. and so do your lives.

and just when it couldn’t get worse? you're cast in the same movie. a remake of that musical. the one where it all began.

some stories don’t need a script.

ENGINE

Street biker!Abby x Race Starter!Reader x Street biker!Ellie — Love triangle

new york summer—thick on your skin, sweet with danger. after dark, the city belongs to the underground: engines screaming, neon bleeding, crews with names whispered as if they are cursed. cops can’t touch it, legends are made on asphalt.

but you don’t drive, you are the one who decides who gets to.

mini skirt, leather jacket, the girl that makes everyone stop breathing for 3 seconds. no crew, no leash, no apologies.

you’ve been fucking ellie williams in secret. the fireflies’ coldest killer, raised on gasoline and silence. but when abby anderson shows up—muscle, fury, and family ghosts—you want her too. something happened between them, something no one talks about.

now you’re the one in the middle. heart split. bed warm. streets burning.

and you realize this was never just about racing.

INFATUATION

Photographer!Stalker!Ellie x Art Student!Stalker!Reader — Dark obsession

you move into a new apartment with a sketchbook in your bag, a scholarship to art school, and a boyfriend you’ve trusted your whole life. it’s supposed to be the start of everything. that, until you meet your neighbor—ellie williams. photographer, quiet, sharp, and impossible to stop looking at.

what begins as a harmless crush spirals into a dark fixation. you start sketching her hand on doorknobs, to memorizing her walk, to driving three hours just to buy the perfect shade of green—her green. but what you don't know, is that she’s watching you too. photographs on your balcony, snapshots in the elevator, glances that burn.

you both have partners, you both know better. but obsession doesn’t care about consequences.

and when two people push past every line of what's moral— what’s left to ruin but everything?