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It all starts with a quiet ping of Magilou’s phone— one that goes largely ignored as she continues grading papers, pretzeled as usual on her office chair. 

“Magilou—” comes Eleanor’s shouting from down the hall. “Whatever you do, don’t open that airdrop!”

Magilou has never grabbed her phone faster. 

She’s already opened the image by the time Eleanor crashes into her room, of course, and what an image it is. 

“No—” Eleanor lunges clumsily, ending up on her knees in front of Magilou’s chair, draped over her legs as she desperately reaches for the phone currently being held high in the air while still open and angled down for inspection. “Please, just delete that—”

Magilou absently bats away her attempts at— well, theft, technically, since it’s her phone. Pausing only to turn up the brightness, she examines every little detail of this startlingly high-definition PNG, because this is the very, very first time that Eleanor has ever sent her a not-safe-for-work picture that wasn’t of herself. 

Eleanor grabs the arms of her desk chair and makes another impassioned attempt at stealing. Magilou just leans back further, half-heartedly pushing Eleanor back with a foot on her clavicle as she rolls her eyes— it’s not as if the image is of her murdering someone or something. It’s just porn.

Hentai, to be specific, and one of those missionary POV hentai pics that look like they could be an official render from a JRPG company if not for the lovingly drawn nipples and sweaty, flushed skin. Extreme attention to every little detail, from anatomy to lighting to the so very helpless expression on the girl’s face.

Magilou squints. “Isn’t this one of those catgirls from that MMO with the free trial copypasta or whatever?”

She’s pretty sure, anyway, from the unique markings on the girl’s face— she’s not wearing any clothes that could help identify her any further, unlike the person the picture is drawn from the perspective of. Who seems to be fully clothed, judging by the partially-sleeved arms holding the catgirl down and the pants lying open around the dick that’s very much mostly inside of her. 

“Magilou, I’m begging you—” Eleanor pleads, tugging at her shirt. “Please, just delete that!”

As if. Eleanor’s so fucking cagey about her porn preferences, Magilou almost believed she really didn’t use any. But this picture? Extremely telling, almost deliciously so.

“Wow,” Magilou mutters, zooming in on the top half. “Did you get this commissioned of me?”

The resemblance is uncanny, actually— nearly the same shade of blonde, as long and unruly as her own, and the same green eyes save for the vertical pupils. The tits are even on the smaller side, which is rare for hentai that isn’t the actually vile stuff. Save for the facepaint, ears, and tail, this could very well be a custom made drawing of her.

“Wh— no, of course not!” Her voice actually breaks and squeaks with panic. “It was just lu— coincidence! It was just coincidence!”

“A lucky find, huh?” She zooms in a bit more and scrolls downwards to the oh-so masterfully rendered genitals. Huh. Eleanor’s never given her a straight answer, but maybe she does prefer shaved pussy. “So what were you doing when you accidentally sent this?”

It’s kind of a rhetorical question— Eleanor’s skirt is wrinkled to all hell, and her button-up is half-untucked and buttoned all wrong like she was just trying to get it closed while running down the hall. Not to mention the ever so pretty flush all over her cheeks and ears and down her neck. 

“I—” she struggles, thoroughly humiliated and defeated— but in like, a cute way. “I was just— I finished my work early, and you were— you were busy, and—”

“And…?” 

Eleanor just makes this pained, desperate noise as she sits back on the floor and buries her hands in her face. Magilou smirks.

“Catgirl got your tongue?” 

Eleanor wails quietly and Magilou just laughs.

“Well, if you can’t tell me,” she says, untangling her legs to sit normally in the chair. “Show me.”

Eleanor uncovers her face and looks up at her, terrified. “Wh— what?”

“Since you can’t tell me,” Magilou says, enunciating each word slowly and clearly as she plants her feet on the floor and leans down to grab her necklace like a collar. “You’re going to go back to your room, get your phone, come right back here, and get on my bed.” She yanks a little, grinning as she watches Eleanor’s pupils go wide. “And you’re going to show me exactly what you were doing when you sent me this picture, like the good girl you are.”

Eleanor just whimpers.


The thing is, Magilou’s always suspected that Eleanor’s a bit of a closet freak— but she’s never been able to prove it. The closest she’s gotten so far is discovering that she has a very mild humiliation kink— very, very mild, just barely enough to qualify as one, really. It’s not even humiliation so much as being very lovingly condescended to that really gets her going. 

Which is honestly a bit of a relief because— Magilou’s okay with a lot of things in bed, but considering her own history she’s not sure she can stomach saying the really nasty and cruel shit. Whore, bitch, slut, etc.— 

(She likes being called those things herself,  but after careful consideration of where the impulse comes from, she’s trying to kick the habit.)

So it suits them both well enough to keep it at a gentle level. Magilou certainly enjoys herself very much when she’s sitting in front of a mirror with Eleanor, spooning her from behind and whispering in her ear while she touches herself. Eleanor gets so embarrassed, turning her face toward Magilou and closing her eyes— and it’s such fun to caress her open thighs and tell her, no, you have to look— see how wet you are? Actually, I guess you don’t even have to look, you can hear it— enjoying yourself, aren’t you? You’ve got such a pretty pussy, babe— god, I love watching you fuck yourself, you’re doing so good— you can fit another finger, can’t you? Come on, be a good girl for me, that’s it—

So it’s not that big of a change of pace when Magilou forces her to do it while scrolling her lovingly curated album of catgirl porn. 

(Which is, in and of itself, so… Eleanor. Normal people just pop open a private tab on their browser to get on a free vpn for their porn fix— Eleanor pays two monthly subscriptions for a high-quality VPN and encrypted folder app to download her material into.)

They’re lying sideways on her bed, and Magilou’s got one head propped up on her arm to peer over Eleanor’s shoulder as her other hand traces circles on the inside of Eleanor’s hip. Eleanor herself is valiantly trying to scroll her phone one-handed while fingering herself at Magilou’s command, panting and making the cutest little noises.

“Blonde again, I see,” Magilou coos, leaning a little closer. “I’m starting to notice a pattern— can you guess what it is?” 

Eleanor keens, squirming as Magilou sing-songs into her ear. “They— they look—”

She’s interrupted by her own shuddering gasp when Magilou pushes a little closer to start fondling her stomach, nibbling at her ear.

“They look…?” She prompts, tracing up and down the perfect part of her abs.

A desperate whimper as Eleanor tries to arch into Magilou’s touch. “L-like you— mm—”

Adorable. 

“You want to fuck me like this, don’t you?” she taunts, smirking when Eleanor’s hand speeds up a little. “Flushed and crying while you pound me senseless—”

Eleanor’s hips jerk— the high-pitched whine she lets out is excruciating, and Magilou’s so tempted to yank her hand away and finish her off herself. But that would mean giving up on learning more about just what Eleanor rubs herself off to when she’s not looking, unfortunately, so she exercises just a little more self-restraint.

“Right on target, aren’t I?” she laughs. “You’re such an open book.”

“Nn—” Magilou can feel the heat coming off her cheeks. “I— I’m s-sorry—”

“Whatever for?” 

“It’s—” another little whimper— “It’s bad—”

Magilou smirks. “What is? The fact that you want me to be helpless? That you wanna hold me down and fuck me so hard I forget how to say anything other than your name—”

Eleanor cries out, fingering herself roughly, curling in as she closes her eyes and shakes like a leaf— and seeing her react like this just to the idea of it is so dangerously tantalizing. It takes everything in Magilou to not run to the closet for the strap and make it happen right then and there.

“No, no,” she warns playfully, grabbing her tit and pulling until they’re pressed flush against each other again. “We’re not quite done yet, sweetheart, keep those pretty eyes open. Show me the next one, yeah?”

(God, she loves Eleanor’s boobs. Not too small, not too unwieldy, round and soft and spilling over a greedy handful by just enough— a shame people are so annoying and weird about seeing her scar in public. It’s a fucking felony that she feels like she has to cover them up so often.)

It takes Eleanor a few arduous breaths to gather herself, her hand going back to its original pace as she swipes at the screen. 

“Ooh, a gif,” Magilou chirps, rolling a nipple between her fingers as she pretends to ignore Eleanor’s whining. “Hmm. That’s not the only thing that stands out about this one, though, is it?”

Two points of divergence, really— red hair, and the fact that this catgirl is riding the dick-wielder from atop when the other pictures have solidly been of these girls being topped. 

(Also the fact that this one has cat ears and human ears, but whatever. Magilou’s willing to overlook the inconsistency if it still does the job for Eleanor.)

“Just another of your types, or were you thinking of someone in particular?”

She takes extra care to sound as flippant as she actually is— she’s not accusing or anything, just curious. It’s impossible for her to tick all of Eleanor’s boxes, after all. 

“No!” Eleanor still panics a little anyway. “No, of course not—

Magilou cuts her off with a bite along the crook of her neck. “Relax,” she laughs into her skin. “I’m just asking— I wouldn’t mind anyway so long as you told me about it, you know that.”

“I—” her breath hitches alongside another full-body shudder. “I know, but— n-no one, not since we…”

Made it exclusive a while back, probably. Magilou tries not to find it reassuring, because she has a healthy dose of skepticism in rigid monogamy, but… well. She’s also a deeply insecure person, and it’s nice to feel like the only track in Eleanor’s mind.

“So what is it that you like about this, then?” She murmurs, nibbling along her ear again. “I don’t think you’re into redheads…” If only because Eleanor’s a redhead herself, and Magilou finds other blondes so unattractive that she can’t imagine a non-brunette being into their own hair color on other people. 

“Th-the…” Eleanor whines, grinding into her own hand as she watches the animation play on a loop. “The bell…”

Huh. Magilou watches the little bell on the red collar bob up and down in tandem with the lovingly rendered jiggles. Well that’s certainly telling— she’d been wondering if it was simply the visuals of a catgirl that did it for Eleanor, but that puts this whole affair firmly on the side of mild petplay. 

“M-Magilou,” Eleanor keens, trembling as her hand starts moving erratically. “Magilou, please, I’m so close…”

“Are you?” Magilou laughs. “Well, go ahead, then, don’t let me keep you.”

“Nn—” the hand holding her phone goes slack, falling against the bed as Eleanor turns halfway, straining her face towards Magilou’s. “No, Magilou, please…”

“What is it?” she coos sweetly, knowing perfectly well what Eleanor wants. “What’s stopping you?”

Her face crumples, desperate and on the verge of tears as she fingers herself frantically. “Please—” she gasps, writhing into Magilou. “Please kiss me—” 

It’s funny that Magilou hates routine so much, because this? This is her favourite part. The fact that Eleanor has such a hard time finishing unless she’s being kissed is so fucking intoxicating, Magilou doesn’t even care that it limits their options when she’s topping— she doesn’t even care that it makes a ritual of the moment Eleanor breaks and begs for it. 

“I don’t know,” she says, going for nonchalant but ending up somewhere a bit more breathless instead because, holy shit. “I’m already helping you out here, do you really need more?” 

She gropes firmly to punctuate her point, biting back a groan when Eleanor cries out and arches into her even harder. 

“Please—” Eleanor’s voice cracks as she begs— “please, please Magilou, please—” 

Shit. Magilou mewls, playing with her nipple, grinding back against her. God, she’s so fucking hot. 

“Poor baby,” she purrs, voice pitched high. “What do you do when I’m not here? Do you have to imagine me kissing you?” 

“Yes,” Eleanor gasps immediately. “Magilou, please, please—”

Magilou’s never going to be over the sound of her girlfriend begging like this.

Shuffling back just enough to push Eleanor onto her back, Magilou kisses her— rough and domineering to make up for the fact that she’s too far gone to kiss her back properly, only moaning and crying into her mouth as she trembles and breaks. 

She nearly arches off the bed, toned body going rigid. Magilou runs her hand all over the taut muscles, relishing in the feel of them— 

(Eleanor’s too busy to be a full-on gym rat, but by god does she take care of herself.)

Then she collapses with a gasp. Turning and closing her legs in halted, brittle movements, she curls into Magilou, still barely kissing back as she makes quiet noises— Magilou reaches around to rub her back as she sweetly siphons away the helpless sounds. 

“How was that?” she murmurs when the waves of whimpers start to subside. “You good? Did you have fun?”

Eleanor nods into the pillow, eyes closed as she tries to catch her breath. Magilou smiles.

“You’re so pretty when you come, you know that?” She runs her hands through Eleanor’s hair, laughing at the inevitably embarrassed whine. “Do you need anything?”

A shake of the head this time. “I’m— I’m okay, I just— are you okay?” she blinks up at Magilou, seeming so very unsure. “Was— was that too weird, I’m sorry—”

“Eleanor, if you want a completely normal sex life, you are dating the wrong person.”

“I—” Eleanor turns to hide her face in the pillow entirely, having nothing to say in response— Magilou snorts and kisses her head, shuffling a little closer.

“You think you’re going to scare me away with a little petplay? Please.” She runs her fingers up and down along Eleanor’s spine. “Everyone’s at least a little bit of a furry these days, this is basically french vanilla.”

“That—” Eleanor whines. “That doesn’t mean you’d necessarily be comfortable with it, I just…”

“Wanted to make sure, I know. You’re too sweet.”

(In the back of Magilou’s mind, she still doesn’t think she deserves any of it— but she’s much better at getting over herself these days.)

“I know you said you didn’t need anything, but I kinda want pancakes before I get back to work,” Magilou says flippantly. “So how about I run you a bath and make some while you’re getting cleaned up?”

“I can just take a quick shower and help, you don’t need to—”

“Full disclosure, this is a completely selfish request.” Magilou pulls back and tilts Eleanor’s face upwards by her chin. “Part of the appeal is knowing that my girlfriend is luxuriating in a bubble bath on a post-coital high while I do some half-naked cooking. Okay?”

She can see Eleanor’s throat bob with a nervous swallow. “O-okay.”

“Thank you.” A peck on the lips, then she’s untangling herself to get started. “Sit tight, I’ll be back with your towel when it’s ready.”

She makes sure to discreetly grab her phone on the way in, obviously. This has been an extremely illuminating experience that warrants much closer investigation— sure, it’s just mild petplay with some dom/sub dynamics and maybe even the slightest touch of consensually dubious consent, but who knows what she’ll find once they actually get into it? 

The road to self discovery is paved by experimentation, after all.

(and a horny freak of a girlfriend, which is a criterion that Magilou more than fulfills.)

She grabs Eleanor’s favourite vegan all-organic bubble wash, squeezes out a generous helping before starting the water, adjusts the temperature and then sits her ass down on the little bathroom mat with her phone. 

Time to do some shopping.