#need her

the feline look

the tooth gap

the wicked grin

and the pussy-melter 3000

note; another one?

tw; public shenanigans, yall do some freaky shit in a locker room, hockey player vi eats your pussy

      figure skaters and hockey players don’t mix— at least, that was what vi kept saying to herself before she crashed into you during practice.

she was blindly following her puck, not noticing that she had overstepped her line on the rink, sending you both flying to the ice floor. but before she could complain, the wind was knocked out of her. 

and nope, it was not from the fall, but from you looking so pissed at her, looking like you’re about to gut her and feed her intestines to herself.

“what— ow,” you slowly push yourself up, eyebrows furrowing, “watch where you’re going.”

      oh dear lord up above, it didn’t even register to her that you were berating her; it didn’t register that her coach was yelling for her to apologise, to get up, and to get back to practice.

it never even occurred to her that you’re jabbing your finger at her chest because she feels like she’s looking at an angel, a gorgeous, angry angel.

maybe she’s just gay, but your facial features, your voice— everything about you seems ethereal. 

you snap your fingers in front of her, successfully catching her attention, “hey, hockey girl, are you listening, or did you get a concussion?”

“...yeah,” she answers breathlessly, her gaze still focused on you, lips slightly parted, “i– erm, i’m really sorry. i wasn’t really looking at where i was going. are you okay?”

      she scrambles up to her feet, her gloved hands taking a hold of your forearms as she gently pulls you up.

you were about to scold her again when you caught her sheepish yet apologetic smile. she’s kinda cute, you think to yourself.

“i’m fine, thank god cus you are huge. how about you, are you okay?” so you opt to cross your arms and lean your weight on one leg, looking up at her.

vi takes off her helmet nervously, revealing her handsome, pretty face. okay, maybe she can slam herself into you; you wouldn’t mind anymore. “yep– yeah, i’m fine. i’m really sorry. you’re not hurt? are you sure—”

“hockey player, stop rambling. i’m fine, really. can you just watch out where you’re going next time?”

      there it is again, your aura? is it because you’re so pretty? is it because of the tights and turtleneck you’re wearing?

she feels like a pervert for letting her gaze roam your body, imagining how soft you’d be under her calloused hands.

vi’s throat bobbed up and down, her lips going dry, her tongue felt like its dead weight. everything about you is perfection, fuck she’s so gay.

you, obviously, see your effect on her; she’s not really subtle. 

you take advantage of it.

hours later, with no one around anymore, you’re sitting on the bench in the locker room, legs spread as vi’s fingers dig into your thighs, gripping it with so much force that you’re sure it’ll leave marks. 

what is she doing, you ask? she’s greedily lapping up at your cunt like she’s starved for years. her mouth is doing wonders to you— you honestly didn’t expect her to be this good. you didn’t expect her to grab your turtleneck by its hem and push up to reveal your lace black bra; you didn’t expect her to shove your pants down.

“taste so good,” you hear her murmur against your pussy, her tongue circling your clit, “taste so fucking good.”

      not only is she whipped for you at first sight, vi’s pussydrunk. she’s desperately spreading you wider, forcing you to accommodate your position, but thanks to you being a figure skater, you’re flexible than most people. 

your quiet whimpers and broken moans give her the motivation to keep going, even when her jaw is aching and begging for a break, vi does not care at all.

the way she don’t give a fuck as long as you’re feeling good, as long as you keep mewling out her name, as long as your cunt is clenching around her tongue, as long as you cum on her tongue. she does not give a fuck.

so imagine the pride she felt when you writhe against her tight hold, pussy gushing out cum onto her tongue, making her groan in satisfaction at your taste?

she’s not the only one.

as soon as you look down, chest heaving and pussy sensitive, her broad shoulders flood your brain. even under all that bulky clothing, it’s clear that she has a broad back. and you can’t help but fantasise about using it as a leg rest while she devours your cunt.

thinking about domestic evenings with emily….her leaning against the kitchen island watching as you cook….hugging her from behind and kissing her bare shoulder as you nuzzle into her neck…soft hugs and kisses as you both unwind from the day…emily rambling and ranting her day as she compliments you and the food in between rambles….the switch in her as she changes from her work clothes to comfy clothes…..