#violet x reader

She's a mess on her twin-sized bed. Vi can't help the sob of genuine pain that spills from her lips as she rolls her hips down against a pillow, desperate to alleviate the throb beneath her sweatpants. Her knot's still so swollen, even after having had ejaculated twice in her pants from mere humping. If there's one thing she's grateful for, is that she never signed up for a roommate.

"Vi?"

Vi stills on the bed. She's not quick enough to call out for you to leave and not enter. The door's already opening, and with it, you.

She'd forgotten that she had given you a key. You, her girlfriend and the one woman she's been close with for years. The one who's been with her through thick and thin, reprimanding her when Vi flattened her chest by any means necessary and instead offered safe alternatives.

You two have done many things. Kissing, feeling each other up, and seeing each other naked with the lights out. Going all the way, though? No.

"You didn't come to class today," You call out. There's no ignoring the cloud of pheromones that settle deep in your lungs as soon as you close the door behind you. "The Professor— Oh."

Vi barely manages to sit up. She's clad in nothing more than sweats, her chest flushed and bare save for the binding tape. Pink, damp hair sticks to her pretty forehead. Maybe it's the puffy eyes from her obvious crying, or the way a whine works its way up her throat but— God, you itch to jump her.

"It's my rut..." Vi clarifies the obvious, her words a soft rasp. She scooches back on the bed, resting her spine against the wall, and places a pillow between her legs. As if you hadn't already noticed the bulge down there. "Got off my suppressants and— please help me."

"Shh, it's okay," You hush her gently. Quick to drop your bag, you move over to the bed and climb onto the mattress. She doesn't just look good, but her scent... It's heady and heavy; rich with the warm scent of ginger, smoke, and cherries. "Bet you're real swollen..."

"Uh-huh..."

A whimper escapes Vi as your lips fall on her throat, right over her scent glands. Her hands splay over your hips, fingers digging into the soft cushion to steady herself. She needs to breathe, in and out, hard and slow, or else she'll come untouched again because your breasts are pressing right up against her arm. And your scent...

Your mouth works its way down Vi's throat. Her palms, shaky and warm, slip under your shirt and grip the hem. There's no need to voice your consent, as you only pull back and raise your arms. She leans back against the headboard now, holding back a moan when you settle your weight on her lap.

She's so fucking hard it hurts. She wants nothing more than to be inside of you, feel your warmth around her and bury herself to the very hilt. Vi just hopes she doesn't finish in two damn seconds.

"I really need you..." Vi whines, rolling her hips upward to grind her cock against your clothed cunt. She squeezes her eyes shut, fighting between pulling you closer or pulling you away to get her shit together.

She's meant to be... dominating. Pinning you to the bed with her canines on your throat, and telling you how pretty you'll look with her knot stuffing you full. Instead, she's reduced to a flushed, whining mess. You'd think you've never had your hand down her pants by the way she jerks when your hand wraps around the base of her cock.

"Fuck—" Vi shudders, holding her breath for a few seconds. Honestly, that just makes it worse. There's that tight coil in her belly, ready to snap any second now. "Don't do anything yet, please—"

"Or what, puppy?"

You give her a few pumps, swiping your thumb over the sensitive, pink head. The knot at the base is already swollen, though has yet to have anything around it to catch against. Vi tries to speak, but she stammers, babbling nonsense as your hand keeps working— pumping and pressing, and—

"No— I... I don't wanna cum yet," Vi pulls back before another orgasm can crash through her system and render her stupid for a few minutes. She presses her palm against your chest, guiding you to lay back with her free hand still on your hip. "Wanna..."

Her chest heaves, a bead of her sweat dropping onto your arm. It's endearing, watching her reduced to such a damn mess. She can't speak, and can only manage a whine when you undo your brassiere to toss aside.

"Wanna what? Save it for me for when you're in me?" You finish the sentence for her, guiding Vi's hand down to your skirt. She doesn't need much of an instruction, and is quick to shimmy the fabric down your thighs and feet. Her head shakes the moment the smell of your arousal hits her nose, and again, she shudders. "Want to knot me, puppy? Yeah?"

Vi whimpers with a nod of her head. She's already worked your panties off by the time her fingers meet your warmth. The pads of her middle and ring finger collect your slick as they dive between your folds, spreading it over your clit before lowering down to your entrance again. She ruts her hips against your knee as she works one finger inside, then two once you relax around the digit.

"There you go," You croon, a heavy breath falling from your lips. Your head thumps back against the mattress as Vi curls her fingers, easing them in and out only by a little in a smooth motion. "Just like I taught you. Press your thumb against my clit."

Vi does as instructed, quick to be rewarded with a moan from your mouth. She rolls her hips against your knee yet again, but keeps most of her focus on you. It's hard to do thing properly when her head's swimming and buzzing. She feels dizzy, really.

She works you open like she has in the past, making that warmth deep within your abdomen burn brighter and brighter. Her mouth descends on your breast, tongue flattening over your nipple until it perks up against the warm muscle. You groan, eager to chase the feeling by arching up beneath her to press your tit further into Vi's mouth. Her hands ghost down your sides, eventually guiding your legs to part so that her body can slide between them. She still leaves a space between you two, if only to move her hand and wrist comfortably.

Vi whimpers as your fingers curl into her hair. She knows that you're about to go over the edge, and she knows what to do after much guiding from you in the past. She keeps the same pace of her fingers, the right pressure of her thumb against the sensitive bud of nerves that's peeked out from beneath the hood.

The delicious, toe-curling crest of an orgasm crashes over you with one final curl of Vi's fingers and a tentative lick over your other breast. Your chest tightens with a breath before releasing into the humid, pheromone-thick air between you two.

Vi pulls her hand back, parting her lips when you bring her hand up to her face. Her mouth wraps around the two digits, and Vi groans at the taste of you on her tongue. She wishes she was going down on you, really, but she can't think straight.

"Good boy."

"Stop..." Vi breathes. Her spine bows with another shudder as she inhales, pressing her face right up against your throat yet again. Your scent's overwhelming her senses, and she has to stop humping your leg or she really will— "I'm gonna come."

She inches backwards, clumsily dragging her sweatpants down her hips and knees. The thick trail of hot-pink hairs at the base of her abdomen lead down to the most aching part of her body. The head of her cock weeps with pre, and Vi bites the inside of her cheek as she wraps her hand around herself.

"'m not gonna last long..." The words leave her in a near tremble, cheeks pink as she guides herself to your entrance. Brushing the tip over your clit damn near makes her jolt. She doesn't want to be one of those alphas who doesn't make their partner come during intercourse, but honestly, she doesn't see herself lasting anything beyond two minutes.

At least she's already made you finish.

"It's okay, puppy," You soothe her nerves, brushing a hand behind Vi's ear before splaying your fingers across her damp and tattooed back. The muscles there tense up, the contours shifting beneath your fingertips like hills. Vi brings her head down, enough to brush her cheek with yours. "You've already been so good. You won't disappoint."

And really, Vi won't. There's something awfully sweet about her like this; in the peak of her rut, yet whining like omegas do when they're in heat. It's not the first time Vi's been like this — begging for your touch, needy for the praise that enters her ears like dripping honey — but never this badly. Her eyes, that powdery shade of grey, almost blue, are glossy from tears she's yet to shed.

Vi bites her lip as you guide her inside, and she does the rest by rolling her hips forward. She's slow, awfully slow, and not because she's too concerned about the stretch. She just doesn't want to come in two fucking seconds.

Your arousal eases the burn as Vi presses forward, filling you up until she's buried to the hilt. She cries out a sob — a real, deep, but pleased sound — when you tense around her on purpose. She's big, but what you really want and are only slightly worried about is the size of her knot.

Her breath stutters against your ear as she draws her hips back, then thrusts forward again. Vi's a bit quicker now, but no less careful. Your hands land on her shoulders, and she curses under her breath when your fingers curl over her buzzed nape. She stretches you properly now with every thrust, drawing back only halfway before sheathing herself fully inside again. She whimpers and babbles, and if not for how close she's buried her face against your neck, you'd be wiping her little tears away.

"Y'feel so good..." Vi murmurs, eyes closed shut in concentration. She keeps moving, not bothering to hide the high-pitched grunts and whines with every roll of her hips. Her knot's already catching at your entrance, so very close to slipping inside and locking you two together. The thought of it — the intimacy, the idea of filling you up and the threat of something happening because of it — is damn near enough to bring her over the edge. "Am I doing good? Do y'feel good? Can I come inside? Please..."

"Yeah," Vi knows you're not lying by how tightly the words leave your lips. How breathless. "So good, baby. Wanna knot me? Go on, fill me and—"

You don't get to finish your sentence. Vi's hips snap forward, forcing her knot all the way inside just as her orgasm crashes over her like a wave. Or two. She cries out a moan against your shoulder, gripping the sheets to keep herself upright. The way your cunt clenches around her, eager for her release, is enough to make her whine again.

firefighter vi ! who always brings you lunch when you’re working. and even when you’re not, if you happen to live close to the station, she’ll go out of her way to have lunch with you.

firefighter vi ! who always sends you photos in uniform with the helmet on because she knows it drives you crazy. sometimes, she’ll sneak into the bathroom during her break and take photos of herself with the jacket open and nothing underneath, just to send them to you while you’re at home or working ( she honestly prefers it when you get them while you’re out of the house, the thought of you having to contain your reaction while in public never fails to turn her on )

firefighter vi ! who has a picture of you in her wallet, firefighter ! vi who looks at said picture whenever she’s feeling nervous or unsure of herself, she uses your face in her wallet to remind herself to keep fighting and to come back home, safe, to you in one piece.

firefighter vi ! who always calls you whenever she’s sent out to fight a dangerous fire :( she hates disturbing you, hates hearing your broken voice over the phone and the worry in your tone. but, she hates the thought of not making it out of the fire without telling you ‘i love you’ one last time, even more.

firefighter vi ! who ( against her will ) is in one of those beefcake calendars. firefighter vi ! who blushed like crazy when you came to the station and bought every single one of them ( you wouldn’t want a bunch of strangers looking at your girl all sexy and half naked after all )

firefighter vi ! who is always riled up after a shift, it doesn’t matter if it was long, short, dangerous or boring, thinking about you is what gets her through the day. thinking about you without any clothes on is what gets her through the dullest moments of her work day. which results in soaked panties and an insatiableness for you that can only be tamed by her fingers in your mouth… or your cunt.

you were lounging on your couch staring at the tv, you couldn’t even tell what channel was on, your eyes had dried up from the lack of sleep, but you needed to stay awake, you wanted to stay awake. you hadn’t seen vi all day and it was honestly wearing you down. plus, you knew she was just as desperate to see you, given the not so innocent texts that she’s been sending you all day long.

you wanted to wait for her, be good for her but… as you open your text messages to check if she has sent you anything else ( like the time she’d be coming home ) you’re immediately met with the last photo she sent you— vi, in her uniform, complete with that yellow helmet of hers. but, with a detail that had you drooling into your screen, her jacket was completely open, her perfect nipples hard and peaking under the fabric for only you to see, her happy trail forming a path between her belly button and her pussy.

the more you stared, the wetter you got. the more you wanted to wrap your lips around her nipples and graze your teeth over her flesh, to mark her up so everyone ( including those girls who always hit on her while she’s on the clock ) know that she belonged to you and that you belonged to her.

you run your fingers over your chest, circling your nipples the way vi would, you feel your nipples protrude against your blouse, waking up slowly but surely. but it’s not the same, your missing the callouses on vi’s hands and your missing her taste too. you continue your path down your own body, trailing your fingers over your stomach until you reach your clit, circling the little bundle of nerves, once, twice, until you’ve gathered enough wetness on your slit in order to plunge two of your digits inside yourself, you moan and throw your head back against the couch cushions, raising your other arm up in order to maintain eye contact with the vi from the photo on your screen. what you wouldn’t do to have her fingers inside of you, right now. you let out a breathy sound and close your eyes for a second, imagining vi on top of you, plunging her calloused fingers in and out of your hole while her breath fans across your face.

but, apparently it was a second too long because you missed the ‘clink’ of your front door opening while lost in thought… and lust. heavy boots stomped through the floor of your house in the direction of the living room. you hear vi’s grave voice calling out your name when suddenly it stops, both her footsteps and her voice calling out for you, the noise replaced by a naughty whistle that travels from her parted lips and into your waiting ears.

“so this is what you do when i’m not around? huh?” vi asks, sarcasm coating her deep voice.

you’re petrified, your fingers still inside of you while you attempt to control your breathing and make it as even as possible under the circumstances. your phone is still in your hand, vi’s photograph still shining on your face.

vi takes a couple of steps forward until she’s hovering over you, her scent fills your nostrils and almost makes you moan all over again, a mix of sweat and that body wash of hers that she’s worn since the day the two of you met.

“i didn’t tell you to stop, now, did i?” vi taunts, getting closer to you. “what were you thinking about?” she asks, she’s so close that you can feel the heat of her breath on your cheeks.

“you.”

“me, huh?” vi questions, her air of aloofness and nonchalance completely intact before her eyes move from your flushed face to the photo on your screen— her photo. “mmmh.” vi muses. “should i be jealous?” she asks, cockily.

you turn your head to look at her only to receive a sound of reprimand in return. “no, no, you were having so much fun with photo me, i’m not gonna be the one to ruin your date.”

“vi!” you complain.

“look at the phone.” vi repeats, her voice leaving zero room for argument. “so…” she starts. “what were you thinking about?” vi asks, again, this time pushing for more details.

your fingers are still inside yourself, not moving just… there. “you… fucking me.” you respond, a little more breathless than what you would like to admit.

“I see… was i good?”

“yes.” you breath out, moving your hips just a little in order to curve just how uncomfortable you are.

“mmm, and what did i do?” vi asks, her eyes moving from your hips to your face before tilting her head down and blowing hot air into your ear.

you shiver at the sensation, curling in on yourself before gathering enough brain power to answer her previous inquiry. “you touched me right there.” you say, before jerking your head down, motioning to your chest.

vi trails her calloused hands over your stomach, slowly, before pinching your right nipple, making you jerk off the couch. “right here?” she questions, circling your nipple with two fingers before pinching your other bud.

you jerk your head back and stare up at the ceiling. “yes.” you moan.

vi takes your reaction as encouragement and sneaks her head under your shirt, running her tongue over the flesh of your breasts, licking and sucking until you’re panting like a dog. it’s only when you clench your legs around your own digits that she grazes her teeth over your sensitive peaks. “like this?”

“mhm.”

vi emerges from under your top and locks eyes with you. “what did i do next?” she questions, her clear eyes boring into your skin.

you’re having a hard enough time breathing without choking on your own saliva, you don’t know how you’re supposed to focus long enough to answer her million questions but you do it anyway, something about the tone of her voice is making you want to be good for her. “you put your fingers in me.” you confess.

vi looks amused, and beyond cocky, she trails her index finger over the skin of your face, swirling it around your cheek before stopping and pressing two digits against your sealed lips. “then why aren’t you?” she asks, lifting both her eyebrows before plunging her fingers into your mouth.

you moan at the fullness and close your eyes while your tongue laps at her digits, hungrily, you move your own fingers inside yourself curling them and uncurling them while moving your hips up and down in chase of relief. you open your eyes, momentary, in order to stare at vi’s blue ones, her lips were parted, her cheeks red in fascination and lust. the couch starts scratching the floor with the sheer force with which you’re moving your body against your hand, until something inside you snaps, your movements become sloppy and uncoordinated while black spots fill your vision, you bite down on vi’s fingers, making her let out a groan in appreciation before you’re coating your own fingers with your release.

vi sighed, appreciatively, before removing her fingers from your mouth and plopping them into her own, lapping at your spit like it was a bottle of cold water after a hard shift. “good girl.” she praises, meeting your lips with hers in a sloppy kiss.

firefighter vi ! who is the definition of ‘happy wife, happy life’ she’s completely whipped for you and everyone knows it, including her coworkers who tease her endlessly about it, not that she minds it too much, it’s true, after all. plus, she’s proud of everything that she has built for and with you.

firefighter vi ! who, sometimes ( more like all the time ), comes home battered and bruised because she refuses to let anyone else’s hands touch her skin. she’ll come home, take off her uniform and plop herself, wordlessly, in front of you, you know this dance by heart by now. so, you simply reach for the first aid kit that’s stashed under the counter and start cleaning up her bruises and putting ointment on her burns.

vi isn’t one for open vulnerability, at least not in front of others. but, when she’s with you, sitting on the counter while you tend to her bruises and run your hands over her sweaty head of hair, she lets herself relax, she lets her eyes squeeze shut and her head tilt back while your hands tend to her battered flesh, sometimes she’ll even let little sounds of relief escape her parted lips, telling you, without words, that you’re doing a good job.

firefighter vi ! who’ll come home, late at night, and lay next to you completely clothed ( uniform and all ) after a hard shift.

it was way past 2 a.m. when you felt the bed dip beside you, you couldn’t see your wife, you could only see her ginormous fire jacket. you roll over under the covers and run your fingers over her pink hair, removing it from her eyes.

vi remains motionless, her eyes dazed and clouded over.

“vi what’s wrong?” you ask, your voice thick with sleep.

vi sighs, deeply, but refuses to move from her spot atop the covers. “can you just…” she starts, uncertainty coating her otherwise smooth voice. “hold me?” she finishes.

“of course.” you answer in kind, before opening your arms for her and letting her get comfortable in your arms.

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she would jerk it off between her index finger and thumb and the pleasure would almost feel like too much. she would potentially buy a fleshlight too and just grind against it at first, pretending it’s a real pussy, before ultimately deciding to stuff her clit inside the toy. it would feel heavenly, a sensation she’s never felt before, something that she didn’t think was possible for her to experience as a woman.

so when the two of you began dating, she took every opportunity possible to her fuck clit inside your pussy.

earlier, you were bent over in front of her, on your hands and knees, while vi fucked her clit inside your small hole with slow strokes. then you were kneeling in front of her while she rubbed her clit against your tongue, suckling on the little nub as if it were a piece of candy.

right now, though, vi is pinning your legs back to your shoulders, your cunt on full display while she rocks her hips against yours. she’s trying to force her clit as deep inside you as she can, needing to feel as much of you as possible. you assume you feel tighter in this position because vi is moaning louder than before, her blue eyes are entirely unfocused—and you can hear the obscene squelching noises your pussy is making when it sucks on her clit like a kiss.

vi is a whiny mess on top of you, spreading her pussy lips wide with her one hand so the entirety of her clit can slip in and out. your entrance is fluttering around her spongy, swollen clit and you’re opening yourself wider with your palms, needing more of her—as much as you can get, and then some. just feeling her inside you, knowing how intimate this is, has been enough to make you come your brains out in the past.

”mmffuck—you’re gripping me so tight, baby.” her hips are smacking against the back of your thighs with animalistic fervor.

the sight of you is completely obscene, it’s debauched. your breasts are bouncing with the strength of her thrusts, your chest is heaving from how severely you’re panting. your legs are spread wide like an easy whore, confidently in a state of your own salacious nakedness. your cute pussy is soaked in a combination of both your juices.

vi’s eyes are glazed over, her pink tongue is hanging out dumbly—consumed by the mindless lust and intense sensations radiating from her aching clit. she’s never felt so much pleasure before you, never known the sheer ecstasy of having the most sensitive and intimate part of herself engulfed in slick, rippling heat—squeezed and massaged from all sides. it’s like nothing she's ever experienced before and she’s easily addicted to your pussy.

”your pussy is so wet—unghh!”

god, she’s needed this.

the air is musky and tangy with sex; it’s vi’s favorite scent next to your own natural pheromones. her muscular frame is casting a shadow over your own and it makes you feel safe and secure. and the sounds of your lovemaking is obnoxiously loud; the clap, clap, clap of skin is echoing like gunfire in vi’s obsolete bedroom.

then you bring your middle finger to your clit, stroking it with ferocity, and you’re quick to come because the feeling of vi’s clit inside you is the nastiest thing you’ve experienced thus far in life. and vi’s whole body convulses when she feels your contractions around her clit. her own muscles are clenching and unclenching as wave after wave of mind-numbing ecstasy rips through her—all because of the way her throbbing, pulsing nub is buried inside the velvet-heat of your hole.

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you tug at the hem of your nearly transparent babydoll as she groans, running a hand through her hair.

"uhm... i know it's early, but --" you worry at your bottom lip before glancing shyly up at her again, "remember that one time i woke you up and you said something like 'don't wake me up this early unless you're offering yourself for breakfast' or something like that?"

vi blinks at you for a solid three seconds before she slumps back into bed with a hoarse laugh, "holy shit -- oh my god -- i did say that, didn't i?"

"mhm..."

"so now..." she sits back up with a dopey grin, patting her mattress, "you're...?" she lets her voice trail off suggestively even as you shuffle forward to slip onto her narrow bed with her. she lets out a low, appreciative moan as she looks you over, her gaze dark and hungry; she doesn't bother hiding the way they linger over your semi-exposed tits or the way her throat bobs as she reaches out to pull you into her lap.

"happy... birthday?" you say, your voice breaking slightly as her palms slide up the smooth skin of your thighs, her fingers already toying with the thin straps of the tiny little thong that's little more than three silken pieces of string connected by identical pink bows.

"mm... oh yeah. that's today, isn't it?" she says, but her voice is distracted as she leans in to press a soft kiss to your collarbone. you gasp, letting your head tip back as she mouths at your skin, running reverent hands up to the bend of your waist, hoisting you up till you're straddling her hips proper.

"y-yeah... and i th-thought -- ah -- y-you --" you let out a pitched whine as she skims her teeth along your collarbones, grinning wolfishly up at you as you tangle your fingers in her hair.

"that you'd surprise me with breakfast in bed?" she asks, hissing as she rocks you down over her, rolling your hips into hers.

"s-something like that --" you breathe out, swallowing hard as she smiles and cradles you to her, touch soft even as she trails needy kisses up the length of your neck till she reaches your lips.

"fuck -- you're so hot -- jesus --" she murmurs, peppering you in open-mouthed kisses, pressing you back till you're pinned beneath her.

"mm -- ngh -- v-violet!"

"shit," vi swears, looking down at you from beneath hooded eyes, her lips parted and pink, her fingers rucking up the thin material of your babydoll so she can tug the thin string of your thong to the side to reveal your already slick folds.

you whimper as she leans down to trail her lips along your stomach, kissing down to hover her mouth over your cunt. she looks up at you and with a teasing smirk and a wink, running a finger through your wetness to tease at your throbbing clit.

"mm -- hell yeah -- happy fuckin' birthday to me," she says, before she lowers her mouth to you and parts you with her tongue.

when the crowd cheers as you're given a fat check from the prize and her eyes melt in envy, she cannot help but give you that look of disgust you can see mid-way the wide smile on your lips so you're now aware of how she feels about you: the hatred that comes from deep down due to the doubts you planted in her brain about her own skills (one thing is to win the second place, but the third? fucking stupid, delusional even) so it's funny in the end how she can get so annoyed to the point it turns her into a monster.

you've spoken with her, what? one? two times? forgettable interactions only making dumb questions that makes vi roll her eyes, always playing the optimistic card around people when asking what needle size is she using, if she prefers a curved magnum instead of a normal one when it comes to shading as if some of that mattered. an annoying prick with a cute face.

"good tattoo," you say when greeting her, but vi don't say a word in reply and it makes you laugh cause hell — you know people like her, ready to cut throat if necessary, unable to take a compliment from the competition, the enemy. "i don't know why you didn't get the second place, i think it's a really good piece."

"thanks."

you fucking rat. was that to punch her ego to death? suddenly vi wishes to never see your face again, turn around, practice double the harder and come back next year to take not only the money, but your pretty golden award that shines like diamonds under the yellow lights, that being said — how exactly she ended up in that party hours later, the one your friends throw after the event and gathers everyone around for a beer or two, meet new people, a celebration she does not belong in as there's nothing to celebrate about.

truth is? makes her feel pathetic, bronze medal on her chest, talking to people who congratulate her as if the third spot is something good and nothing to be ashamed of, as if vi's not going to toss it to the trash the very same moment she steps in her little apartment: the real problem here is that her friends also happen to be your friends and after being insisted on drinking her problems away, she's there regretting all of her decisions who only stab her in the back.

stabbing.

she's taking a lot of bad decisions lately — clearly, cause on a scale of one to ten, how much of a hypocrite would violet be when she's fucking you in front of the bathroom mirror almost two hours later? funny. when she's pushing your face against the surface so your cheek's now squished against the cold, hard to speak as she gets off from the sound your moans make as they slowly fill the bathroom she made sure of locking.

yeah-- how much of an asshole would she be when admitting how much it turns her on to see you there struggling to breathe with her medal around your neck? free hand that pulls diagonally and has the ribbon pushing perfectly against your throat: how did she end up crossing that thin line that diffuses the hate and love? taking advantage of you in a dirty bathroom instead of calling you out for being an asshole.

"you really are a hot third place," you say, and it's the laugh that pisses her off, your games while she pushes you harder against the mirror. you smell like weed, there is alcohol on her own breath, and it's a shame, but vi does not remember now why she was following you to the bathroom, ready to scream something about your constant mocking, of how you didn't deserve to win fucking anything. "even for a fucking loser you're not that bad."

it's violet now the one that suffers from a cocky smile, when you feel bold even when the strap on's well secured around her waist, tightly around each leg as she buries herself harder in your soaked cunt and uses both hands now to hold you in place, not really kind, far from the usual mercy as she squeezes your waist in hopes to keep you up in your feet, remind you about how you both are in a party still and not somewhere you can slip.

what did you expect, anyway? a pat on the shoulder and a kiss on the cheek? it hits just right when her nails dig in your skin and she doesn't have to pretend to care about the pain it produces, how well it blends with the way her hips move now against you, sharp, controlled movements, how vi doesn't need to say a word cause you're melting in her arms and she keeps fucking you to her own fun, her own desires.

is it bad if it turns you on to notice how quickly violet vanderson can put you back to where you belong? jeans on the floor, underwear made halfway to the side, you're now vulnerable to her, trying to spread your legs further apart so she can go deeper even if the space is almost non-existent, tits crushed against the mirror and her own body, you're leaking against the blue dildo and making a mess out of vi's black boxers to the point she's sure it will leave a stain behind, a new victim to that delicious sound she can hear even from over the loud music outside, the one of your soaked pussy does when making space for her, when you invite her in.

there it fucking is. erratic moans, the gold medal looks better in her own chest more than it ever did in yours, ruined face imprinted in her brain now that you look back at her with pleading eyes, begging to go harder, deeper, anything so you can cum all over her rubber cock and vi can feel like a winner again.

"gonna make you my fool now," she replies in your ear, a reminder of how she's always in control — "gonna steal your first place and keep you to myself."

is it hatred now? holy shit, it's getting hard to tell. the music's so loud she's having trouble to hear her own thoughts and concentrate about anything but the way your body reacts to her touch, craving for more, needing her closer even when you spat incoherent words while she has a personal fight with your shirt, struggling for a moment to take it off due to the impatience and kiss the soft skin of your shoulders, nibble on the curve of your neck that now seems so tempting to bite, leave a hickey or two so you can be ashamed of it after, of how you let a loser take control of your surroundings, yourself.

take what's her own and let her take in return what's yours, let her invade so you become one, let her make a mess out of you as a reminder of who's actually better, of who deserves to be carrying the gold medal: she hates you, right? she hates you when she shoves a finger in your mouth and you gently bite the digit, it's that visceral feeling-- that need of having you drunk on her smell, on the feeling her cock leaves behind every time vi's hips withdraw entirely and you're hollow for a second before she fucks you back again so the rubber balls hit your entrance and you moan in plain delirious. full of her.

"don't cum yet," she orders, ignoring whoever is knocking on the door and daring herself to boss you around cause shit, she calls the shots, right? making you sweat in your cute little outfit, palm of the hand over your stomach so she can have the perfect angle to pull your ass back to her cock right how she wants you to be — "fucking hear me? nod when i speak to you. don't cum."

"yes--" at this point? vi's clit swollen too, the friction, the moment, she's soaked and it's easy to make her like the feeling, the way your ass searches for the rubber turning her sensitive on each thrust, "yes-- i hear you."

worst white lies have been told before, but she's moaning against your ear, moving with you and it's hard to say anything to take the contrary, remind her about how she's the third place still and you're not at her will. it's hard when vi's sucking on your neck like a vampire and her weight crushes you down, when she uses a hand to spread your ass for her cock and she doesn't care about the saliva coating her fingers, about how soaked you are so it's now staining your inner legs like the most delicious proof of want, how much time she's been locked with you in that shitty bathroom so there's visibly line outside, think of anything else other than how good she is at fucking the alleged enemy.

"c'mon- fuck yourself good-- let me see you" it's growing on her now, a sight that surpasses somehow winning any gold: ass moving on it's own rhythm so her thumb can slide through your folds and land on your clit, gently stroking it in slow circles to add even more pleasure, greedy when taking her time in touching and getting to know which parts leave you breathless, helping you move against the strap-on so you reach the very deep and take her entirely, no cheat.

who are you to blame when you cum? does nothing but drive the pink haired crazy, the narrow space boiling hot now due to human heat, the smell of sex staining on the white tiles of the walls when vi can physically feel the warmth throughout the fabric of the strap-on, staining her cock deliberately now with your sticky orgasm as she keeps moving, relishing that nasty sound that is now louder than any damn music outside-- who is vi to blame when she cums after too? consumed by the need to see you, even if the lights in the bathroom were so damn dim, be a witness to the way the blue dildo leaves your abused cunt so puffy for her it has vi salivating like a damn animal ready to kneel.

she hates you, right? to cum is to admit you're fucking pathetic. to cum is to admit that she has you by the neck, under her everlasting spell.

"wear my medal and i'll wear yours," you say, breathless. "is it a deal, third place?"

"you think anyone will believe i won outside?" vi asks instead as she lazily drags the shirt back to her body: was that the conversation you were having before? flirting and exchanging dumb medals hoping the rest will play along? "i don't want a medal i don't deserve."

her words don't seem to bother you however, when you add instead — "i don't care about what the rest believes, vi. i just want to keep you satisfied so you can fuck me later. it looks better around your neck anyway."

it's oh so simple.

according to her it all starts when you win the competition (or something like that, what-fucking-ever) cause why else would violet vanderson would be shoving her hand inside the back pocket of your jeans later that same night? only as a sign of possession when she squeezes your ass before speaking close to your ear:

"next year m'gonna make you my dog too, with my gold medal."