soup luvr

you’re sweating, panting, knuckles paling as you grab a fistful of vi’s hair and tug just roughly enough to draw out a moan from deep in her throat. the vibration feels delicious against your sopping cunt, but god, it’s just not enough.

frustration burns in your chest and your eyes brim with tears, a frown pulling your lips downward. the wet slurps of vi’s mouth devouring your cunt should push you closer to the edge, but all you feel is guilt for keeping her there, mouth latched to your clit as your orgasm evades you time and time again.

fuck it, you think, resigning yourself to one of the oldest tricks in the book. with an overdramatic, whiny moan, you pantomime an orgasm, forcing yourself to tremble beneath vi and hoping your acting isn’t embarrassingly inadequate. you pretend to ride out your pleasure on vi’s face, cunt smearing her with slickness from her nose to her chin, and then you sink into the mattress, acting out your usual post-orgasmic bliss. vi’s fingers slip out from inside you and her mouth leaves your clit; you sigh in faux satiation, eyes falling shut.

“what the hell was that?”

vi’s voice, all hoarse and rough around the edges, cuts through you like a knife.

you open your eyes and find her already looking right at you, powder-blue eyes narrowed with skepticism. one corner of her lips quirks downward.

“what was… what?” you ask, avoiding vi’s gaze. your stomach churns with embarrassment - does she know? is she angry?

“you didn’t come,” vi says to confirm your suspicions. “but you acted like you did.”

your hands fly to your face, covering the look of sheer humiliation that paints your features.

“i’m sorry,” you murmur from behind the shield of your hands. “i just… i was taking too long. i felt bad.”

“oh, baby,” vi says, voice dipped in honey. the mattress shifts as she moves closer to you, her hands curling around your wrists to encourage you to stop hiding. you oblige, looking up at her with burning cheeks. and she’s so pretty, her expression concerned, your arousal still half-wet on her lips.

“you don’t need to feel bad,” she reassures you, hand cupping your cheek, “and you definitely don’t have to fake an orgasm just to make me feel better.”

despite her reassurance, you’re still embarrassed, anxiously biting on your lower lip as you nod in understanding.

“besides,” she starts, her hand tracing the curves of your body from your torso down to your thigh. “i just want you to feel good. i don’t care how long it takes.”

all you can manage in response is a weak “okay,” which the redhead doesn’t seem too convinced by. she lifts her hand to your face again, pinches your chin between her index finger and thumb to encourage you to look at her.

“let me try again,” she says, eyes locked on yours. “and no more pretending.”

when you nod your assent, vi smiles, the scar on her lip stretching just so. she leans in for a kiss, lets you taste yourself on her lips before she lowers herself between your legs again.

and this time, you let your mind go blank as she curls her fingers inside you, brushing against your sweet spot with familiar precision. you let yourself melt into the pleasure of her tongue splitting through your folds, allowing yourself to enjoy the way she laps at your pussy like you’re her favorite flavor.

truth be told, vi would spend an eternity between your spread thighs, worshipping you with her mouth and stretching you open with her fingers. and she proves that to you now, lips pursed around your puffy clit and sucking on the sensitive bead until you’re truly, honestly moaning with pleasure. with her free hand, vi paws at your tits, pinches your taut nipples to hear the way your breath shudders and feel the way your cunt flutters around the fingers she’s got buried inside you.

this time, you don’t have to beg your body for release. your hips grind helplessly against vi’s face as the knot in your belly begins to unravel, and when your orgasm crashes into you, it’s with a white-hot pleasure that blurs your vision and sets fire to your every nerve. your body positively burns with pleasure, the exact release you’ve been dying for rocketing through you until you’re left spent and exhausted, drool spilling from the corner of your lips as you lie limp on the mattress.

“atta girl,” vi says, her voice muffled by the ringing in your ears. you grin deliriously at her when she appears in your line of sight, her thumb swiping away the drool on your cheek.