#i wrote gp in a haze and posted it as a scrap and that's exactly what im doing here

[dykeomania]

𝒎𝒊𝒂'𝒔 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒃𝒔: untitled (02)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: finger-fucking. you like ellie's tattoo. the end

𝐚/𝐧: mid certified mia classic containing all of the certified mia themes like getting fucked absolutely dizzy and mutual obsession and abrupt endings. started off as just a silly goofy thought and became something a little bit hornier than that (it's not that bad) (but like). lack of solid plot theme and other potential issues given the reason of yes it was just a thought at first and also because it was composed at like 1/2am. i have nothing else to really say for myself.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: (edited, because i realized i forgot this) -- vaginal penetration, domtop!ellie, pretty foul language. watching ellie while's hand while she fucks you. think that's it

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k?

thinking about ellie's forearm tattoo,

being the only thing you can focus on as she's sat between your legs, stationed above you like a daydream, with her fingers so snug and deep inside your cunt that you find yourself laying there with wide, wet eyes and a stiff body, choking on every moan that's meant to be a breath but that comes out as something ripped and stretched. her brows are knit together in some weird mix of shock and determination as she curses under her breath about how she's never seen you this wet before. about how you're a fucking disaster. been itching for me to fuck you, huh?

it started with the hand that she's got splayed across your lower abdomen. the one pressing on that fucking spot that's nestled so deep inside of you, that every person you'd fucked before ellie had convinced you that it was an itch that would never be scratched. but ellie is hitting it like she's memorized the route -- which she did. passes over it with the rough pads of her fingers in an intentional combination of strokes and come-hither motions stemming from curled fingers, and then has the audacity to push her hand down against the lower part of your stomach and press on it externally. you didn't even fucking know that she could do that -- you didn't know that you would feel that.

the width of her hand splayed across your lower torso was godlike. was something out of a book, or a movie, how her hand fit your frame like it was fucking made to be against you,

and then you notice it.

it's not until you're shivering with pleasure. ellie's arm is burning, and your body is unable to decide what it wants to do between fucking up against her slickened palm in some fueled fit of greed and delirium or sitting up -- or fighting to, rather -- and watching her, in some awkward position only accentuates the tightening in your both of your cores. regardless, your body seems pretty set on gripping some part of ellie's arm. you find that clawing at her bicep makes her occasionally moan into your mouth,

you find that gripping at her forearm makes her fuck you faster.

and in the moment where you can't believe the speed and the strength at with which she is fucking you, all your eyes can do is hang on the grip that you've got on her forearm. her tattooed forearm, containing veins that bulge and accentuate the stems. the design of the fern that was once flat, and two-dimensional, and is now alive. new branches are created everytime her arm flexes when she moves in, and out of you.

for some reason, the sight is brutal. it makes you gasp. makes your pussy gush over her fingers and stop breathing before releasing an all too honest, too rooted, too teary-eyed, oh my god.

you don't manage to catch the way ellie's lower lip is caught between her teeth. nor the rosiness of her cheeks, or the baby hairs lightly sticking to the perimeter of her forehead, her upper cheekbones just beginning to gather a minor perspire-induced glow. you do catch how she looks at you, but it's only because she laughs a little. catches on too quickly. knows from past experience.

like watching me when i fuck you? gets you off watching you cum all over my fingers, doesn't it?

making such a mess all over my hand, babe.

your head falls back with some grating mix of shock and embarrassment, and the whines that leave your lips are your only bet at being able to vocalize the two.

it's cut short, because ellie's hand reaches to pull you up by your jaw, gentle and rough all-the-same,

keep looking.

makes you so fucking wet, can feel all you.

gonna keep fucking you so, so good, baby.

just gotta keep those eyes on me while i fuck you.

and you believe her.

you believe her as you feel your stomach constrict, and release. you believe it as you feel all of the air in your lungs catch fire. you believe it as the image of her tattooed arm fucking you becomes blurrier, as your lashes begin to gather moisture and stick while some stupid fucking look paints your expression on your face and your nails press deep, red welts into the leaves. you believe her as you mumble her name over and over and over again, as she momentarily presses your foreheads together, as she presses a kiss to the side of it, down the side of your cheek, down the side of your neck,

there you go, baby.

just like that, yeah?

yes, holy fuck, just like that. the phrase is something you think or sputter rather than say. some remnant of it garbles it’s way out of your mouth as you watch her, as you watch both of you. watch your hips stir into every thrust she makes, enamored, like the action was a memory of something you don't remember doing. watch as you let yourself accept it. start bathing in the sound of her fingers moving in and out of your cunt, of the friction caused by the base of her palm grinding against your clit. feel a tear streaking down your cheek as she moves works three, long, rough digits inside of you, like she knows you. like she loves you, or loves seeing you like this -- at this point, it has to be both.

to your ear, she whispers, somewhere mixed in the chaos, lips catching against the lobe of it,

i know, baby.

so good, feels so nice and tight around my fingers.

love fucking you like this, want you to cum for me.

one minute your legs are spread to let her in as deep as you can, and then they're straggling, knees scrambling to press themselves together,

yeah? gonna cum for me?

gonna make a mess on my hand, baby?

fuck, yeah. just like that, baby, cum for me.

take it all, and cum for me, just like that, just like that--

and the only time when you are able to pull yourself away from the sight, from the reality of a pleasure that was so impossible gifted to you from a girl so unreal, is when the world collapses underneath the arch of your back,

when her name leaves your lips embodying a literal, textbook, broken devotion,

while your pussy spasms and you wet the lower half of the fern that you were so focused on,

and is when your eyes roll. somewhere far, far into the back of your head.