#Dispose of Grease | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

limerlove · 7 months ago

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KNUCKLE VELVET, TORN ON MY TEETH

❝ VI!ONE SHOT ❞

pairing. pitfighter!vi x bartender!reader

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: arcane season two spoilers, soft angst, smut, bartender!reader, crashout!vi mends her cold heart, inexperienced!vi, switch!reader + vi, fem coded reader, coded alcohol addiction, slight spit kink, strap use.

KNUCKLE VELVET TORN ON MY TEETH, there's something charming about the pitfighter who doesn't stop drinking until she reaches the bottom of the barrel and the bartender who keeps walking her home.

wc. 7k+

rayray yaps. popping my vi!oneshot cherry, hehe, and i'm happy to do so. the vi brainrot has been real as fuck lately. i fear it's not going away anytime soon. but i wanted to give a special shoutout to @hypnagogics for proofreading this fic, means sm to me ily + my sweet bubba, @absfawn for the title name, i could kiss you until my lips fall off. the best people ever, i love them so much. okay, now i have yapped enough! happy reading, hope you enjoy.

Trapped in the abyss, just when everything had been taken from her life seems to sacrifice another offering on a silver platter. Something else that she thought could be hers, but wasn’t. In the end, all of it was the same. Life is the same. She takes three steps forward, circumstances out of her control take her apart like enforcers imposing their will on Zaun, and she’s forced to move five steps back. It’s all she feels, powerless.

Wanting nothing more than to drown her sorrows, forget all that she's lost. For everything that’s been taken, Vi feels an overpowering loss, threatening to take over everything she’s trying to build. But Vi thinks of none of it now, she can’t afford to think of one more thing. So, she doesn’t. All of her mind forgets. She forces herself to.

Zaun, Piltover, Jinx, Vander, Silco, and Cait.

She drowns in blood, sweat, and liquor for nights to come. She forgets everything and you are just the cherry top on this one shitty sundae. Anytime she’s here, Vi manages to get herself into a fight. Each time. Every time she tries to apologize or hold an ounce of guilt in her eyes, you see right through her crystal blues. From the very first night, you called her bullshit. Even if Vi didn’t give in, it was hard to hide her small smirk.

She lets herself think it’s because you’re a bartender. You practically get paid to read people, listen to them vent about shit you probably don’t give two shits about and break up the fights that erupt every thirty minutes. Overinflated egos and drunken assholes weren’t a great mix. The jury was still out if you though Vi was one. She could have both, she didn’t really talk much. Vi fought, drank until she couldn’t see straight, and you helped her up to her small apartment right across the street and up the steps into her said apartment.

No matter how hard she tries, it always ends the same. Vi looking like an imbecile and you, the pretty bartender who shuts down every advance she throws your way. Vi wonders who had a stronger shell, what you’re hiding in order to protect yourself.

Maybe she is just an asshole.

“You don’t have to walk me up here. I-I can make it just fine on my own.”

As soon as your fingertips let go of her fragile frame, Vi’s inebriated body collapses on the concrete steps, grabbing onto the metal framing as if her life depends on it.

“Really? Now you wanna prove a point?”

“For your information, I’m always in it to prove a point.”

Even if your words are harsh, with a soft smile and a hand open, Vi takes it as you let her lean on your weight as you assist her up the steps. There’s little shame to be had once the two of you make it in. It isn’t like the first time and when she noticed the scrunch of your nose in taking the smell, tequila and grease. Vi thought it was cute but she halts any further thought.

Quickly, Vi disposed of her leather jacket and pants she’s left in boxers and the wrap protecting her chest. The part of her life that seems to be kept together. She doesn’t really mind it though, you. Seeing her like this. Even more so, she enjoys it. You’re always so dismissive at the bar, hardly holding eye contact, turning down any flirting she hurls your way. Just like the vomit Vi had nearly thrown up on your shoes but made a quick diversion for the bush to the right of her instead.

This is truly the only time she knows you want her. Not so subtly, your eyes trace her like each pinpoint of your gaze is painting her on a clean canvas, one Vi wonders if she’ll like or not. When she’s been around you, she’s been wondering about a lot of things — thoughts she quite literally can’t afford.

It’s her, nothing ever ends well when her feelings can get crushed on the other side.

Everything she touches burns to ash before she can even hold it for a moment, a second of symphony retaliates with years of misery. How could you be any different? She wishes you would burn her underneath your gaze, put her out of the misery she feels growing every day, but you don’t. You’re always pulling her out of trouble when you truly don’t have to. It’s not your job to take care of her or hell, even look after her.

But you do and she can’t seem to figure out why.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Just shut the fuck up and let me help you. Not everyone has a motive. Some people just like to help when someone is so clearly struggling.”

“I’m not—”

You give her a glare that seems to shut her up. You draw a bath for her. It’s easy to find her towels in the only cabinet. It’s an acute studio apartment. More so of a small room with a stove stop, minimal counter space, and one bathroom enough to bathe and brush her teeth in. There isn’t much left of it but it’s hers. Grabbing the first aid kit, you kneel between her legs, the mattress sits on the floor, her legs spread and stretching out in front of you.

“Let me help you. Alright?” Vi grumbles, a incoherent complaint, but she lets you tend to her wounds.

It’s mainly just cleaning off her dry blood as she still complains in the process, but there’s a few cuts on her face and her cheeks are already beginning to bruise. It’s not a secret, she bruises like a peach but she always makes sure her opponent is leaving a lot more with just a few cuts and a bruise the size of a plum.

It’s then, when you’re concentrating on the cuts on her face, the busted lip she’s sporting; she looks at you. Maybe it’s the first time she has, but without even realizing it, she gets lost. Not in the way Vi doesn’t know who she is, that she’s completely lost on, but Vi sees you.

Bright-eyed, optimistic, helpful, kind — all attributes she couldn’t claim but wears like a badge of honor. As if helping others instills you with a sense of purpose, something that’s always been a lost cause to her. Fight until the next fight, and the next, and the next. That’s what she’s done, she's always been a fighter. She’s fallen back on it when needed. It’s clear to her. Like a vision she could see, crystal clear through some stupid ball, it’s always been about survival.

But how much longer does she want to fight and how much more does she have in her?

“Thanks.” Vi speaks softly.

Not knowing where to place her palms, she settles for her thigh. Silent as she watches, nearly analyzing every moment, every glance, every little thing you’re doing. It’s sobering to say the least. You don’t need to be delicate but you are. It’s more kindness than she deserves, nearly leaving a bitter taste on her tongue but when you offer a small smile and a soft whisper, you’re welcome.

It’s the sweetest thing Vi has ever seen.

There’s something different in the way you look at her. The soft omission exposes how sweet on Vi you may be. Definitely more than you’d let on, which was well…none. Up until tonight, she thought you hated her. With each word uttered in your direction, Vi assumed you’d rather swallow bile than stomach her slurred, flirty speech.

“Why do you want to help? It’s not like I’ve exactly been—”

“Kind?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

This time Vi lets the smile reach her eyes and your smile gets even sweeter. She can practically feel the sweetness rotting her teeth as she speaks. It’s the first time she feels something new, something as bright as the light radiating through your eyes.

“You just seem different. Even if you do try to hide it.”

With a flush of crimson coating the apple of her cheeks, she’s never been quite as exposed as this. The next few weeks are spent with less drinking, but Vi frequents the bar just as much as she did before. She orders a few pints just to talk to you. She’s learning more about you, slowly but surely, you’re opening up more. Divulging information you wouldn’t have before, trust is earned. It’s something you told her the first night you met and to this day, Vi still remembers it.

Regardless of how drunk she’d been when you said it.

It’s a typical night. Vi flirted with you but you aren’t being dismissive tonight but you’re careful enough to not let her know exactly how you feel. Everything you say is guarded enough you keep her on her toes, for a moment she thinks she might have to become a ballerina. It’s a slow night, Wednesday. Go figure Vi thinks. There was a woman who’d also been flirting with you all night. Vi thought she was beautiful, sweet, funny…certainly was making you laugh all night.

Part of Vi wanted to feel jealous but it feels too good hearing you laugh, she says nothing. Maybe you just don’t like women. Vi was known for reading into things too much, thinking everyone thought with their heart first just like she did, and assuming every hot and attractive woman was into other women — just like she is.

But the brunette left before closing, leaving Vi and a few other regulars paying their tab as they stumbled home with a belly full of liquor of their choosing.

“Alright Vi, don’t you have somewhere to be? Maybe getting some sleep for the night?”

“I don’t sleep much, it’s better if I don’t.”

“Keeps the nightmares away.”

All Vi does is nod.

“Story of the century.” You take Vi’s empty pint before washing it dispersing in the sink before cleaning up the remainder of the bar top. “Everyone’s got one around here and the new one is usually even more depressing than the last.”

“What about yours?”

“If you wanna hear that, I’ll have to be the one doing the drinking.” You smile but it’s the first one Vi recognizes as insincere.

“Yeah, seems to be the stone cold requirement for a heart to heart.”

Vi’s silent as you vent to her about the customer who refused to pay up tonight until you threatened to kick his ass and that wasn't enough, you threatened Letty on him. Vi found herself only slightly entranced as you spoke with such color, your animated voice doing impressions of the stubborn patreon, moving your hands as you speak, eyebrows furrowed as you finished the story.

You’re done cleaning and are ready to close by the time you finish, locking the door as Vi stuffs her hands in her pockets, “Can I ask you something?”

You cling to your bag like a lifeline. Vi notices how tight your grip is on the strap, almost as if you’re afraid. Of what? She has a craving to find out. “Why’d you turn her away? She seemed plenty interested. Not your type?”

You take a step forward, just as close as the last time you were in her apartment, tending to wounds she wouldn’t have really cared about but still she let you clean them.

You didn’t have to know that. Not yet, anyway.

“No, not really. I like my women a little rough around the edges, stumbling out of bars so wasted they can’t even walk home by themselves.” You smirk, grabbing the lapel of her leather jacket as you tug her closer to you. “Or is that what you want me to say?”

“Is it true?”

You both know the hope in her eyes is dangerous.

Hope.

A foreign concept in Zaun. If you get too close to the flame, you’ll get burned, dusting into ash as if you never existed. It’s what shimmer did to people, wipe them off the map until they reformed into a shell of what they used to be. You didn’t just get out of a place like this, not without some help. Vi could barely even help herself.

The both of you know it’s a bad idea. A terrible, god awful idea, but you still move in closer to her. Vi notices and she wipes the smirk off her face, your warm hands finding purchase on her exposed hips, drawing soft circles on her hip bones. She likes it, even when her heart feels torn from being blown to bits by a certain blue-eyed beauty.

Vi likes you.

“Your skin is softer than I thought it would be, smooth like pure silk. Not that I’ve ever touched it before but I’ve got to believe it would feel a lot like this.”

Vi feels a tingle up her spin, your touch is overwhelming, more than she bargained for really. A stumbling, messy kiss is all she really expected if anything. Not this. Clearly, you knew what to do. Leaving Vi a little clueless in that department, she’s knocked off her feet once again but this time in a way she wants to be. But actually bringing something this special to anything more than a few flirty quips? It never seems to be her strong suit.

So, she puts her best foot forward. Her big stupid mouth, one she can never quite fully silence. “I can guarantee my lips feel a lot softer.”

“Vi—” You speak her name like a warning, an unspoken law you’re breaking by entertaining your feelings and the bubbling sentiments you hold for her close to your heart. You know better than to keep it so close, but the halo in her eyes blinds you to reason and you let it.

“It’s Violet but you can call me whatever you want, sweets.”

You chuckle at the pet name.

“Just one night. That’s it. Just to get it out of our system.”

“One night, sweets. It’s all I need.”

—

It’s how you ended up here, the third night in a row since the first, trapped under the web of Vi and her eager mouth. Slender, perfectly sculpted fingers feel like a hex to your cunt, every moment causing you to fall further into her spell. To say she has a certain talent would be considered an understatement. It’s clear Vi’s enjoying herself, fuck, damn near suffocates herself in your weeping cunt. Last night wasn’t nearly enough, she needs to have you, again. Not that you were complaining.

As much as you hate to admit it, there has been no one as generous as her. As good as her, as sweet, as kind, and she did whatever the hell you asked for. Nothing has beaten the first night, her thumping clit nudging against your as she hiked one of your legs over her toned shoulders.

It’s not a secret how built she is, far from it, but it’s another thing entirely to watch her flexed bicep ripple with every grind of her hips. Each movement seems to be calculated with precision, focused on doing more than just making herself feel good. With pure determination, glazed over crystal blue eyes, and a pouty scarred lip, she makes sure you’re enjoying this as much as her. With each moan you let slip, her confidence only grows until she’s commanded full control over you. She takes what she wants from you and in return you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, constellations created in the shape of her name as you come.

“That’s it pretty girl, just for me, yeah?” Vi talks you through as she works you through your orgasm with her strong hips, not stopping even after you’ve cum. She wants more and Vi pulls three more orgasms out of you before she’s done for the night. You expected her to be good. There was no shocker there but you didn’t expect her to be so sweet afterwards. Vi is a drunk, an addict, whether she wants to accept it or not. You could be just another object she’s addicted to. Somehow, you convince yourself it’s just a one time thing. It doesn’t mean anything, it won’t.

Truthfully it feels much more than just a one night stand, more than an itch being scratched — the blossoming ache in your soul feels tethered to your heart every time Vi makes you feel an ounce of love — even when she tries to hide it behind a wall. Whether you’re aware, the wall can’t seem to stop crumbling. Brick by brick, it’s coming undone just as you have. Weak-willed and with purpose, you fall into her.

There isn’t an inch of your body Vi didn’t kiss. Her lips tattooing every inch of your skin with marked affection, almost as if she’s mending your skin with the burn of her lips. When she claims your soft lips, haunting you with the salvation of perfection as her velvet tongue invades your mouth, the taste of you melting from her tongue to yours. The silent declaration you didn’t ask for but craved, the carnal moan leaving her mouth as she chuckles when your hips pathetically grind into hers.

Vi enjoys your company, that much is clear, but this time you bring her to your place. It’s more or less the same. Both of you coming down from the highest of highs, you feel sticky, dirty, and damn right heavenly. Vi disappears into your bathroom, grabbing a wash rag before dampening the material underneath a warm faucet. Carefully, she kneels by your hips, legs twitching softly as her skilled fingers find your slit before Vi’s sucking the digit in your mouth.

“I just wanted one last taste before I clean you up.”

As she has before, Vi makes good on her promise and cleans you up. She enjoys when the pad of her thumb grazes against your clit, terribly overstimulated, your stomach twitches. All Vi can do is chuckle.

“I’m just a little—”

“Sensitive?” Vi smirks as you hide your face in the palm of her hands, the pad of her thumb gently caressing your skin.

It’s the lightest she’s felt in weeks. Almost as if she’s floating on a cloud, she wants to stay up there in the cloudiest of nines. Just you and her and an aging mattress as she offers you everything she can give. Albeit, it isn’t much but she’ll still freely give.

Like a dog with a bone, Vi corners you on the third night when it’s just you and her in the bar. Closing time has long since arrived and vanished into the crisp air of the night but Vi has you bent over the bar, desperation clawing at the weathered countertop of the bar as Vi’s fingers fucks your pretty little hole while her tongue laps at the slick that’s dripping out of you. Your pretty little skirt pushed up, your panties pushed to the side as she laps and sucks at your juices. She can feel you dripping onto her chin and it only makes her that much more eager to swallow every bit you have to offer.

“We shouldn’t be doing this—” Fuck. Vi starts doing tricks with her tongue, sliding in another finger, pushing against the soft spot buried deep as she toys with you in the way knows best. “We, um, Vi we said just one night.”

“Shut the fuck up and take it like a good girl. Or did you forget?” Vi moans into your cunt, the vibrations causing your thighs to shake under her mouth. “It’s not like you were complaining last night.”

Vi silences you as her pace picks up, her fingers fucking you at such a pretty pace, feeling the build grow in the pit of your stomach edging to come to a full bloom.

All of you begging for it to be released. Vi uses her free hand to slap your ass, sending you moaning and lurching forward. You push yourself back grinding against her tongue, before she removes her divine mouth as she kisses up your spine, her fingers stuffed inside you not faltering for a moment.

Vi continues to kiss up your spine until she reaches the nape of your neck, her breath kissing your skin, your body shivers into her touch. Full lips ghost over your ear before whispering quietly, “Are you sure you want me to stop? I will if you want me to. I just thought you might wanna, you know, take my cock tonight. Give it a good ride.”

The moan you let out would put Aphrodite’s to shame, needy and choked sobs escape you as her fingers thrust inside you faster than they have before.

“Oh? Do you like the sound of that, babygirl? Want to show me how good you can be for me?” Vi doubled down on her efforts, enjoying how much you arched into her body, your hips pushing back as you grind into quick fingers. She’s fucking you better than well…anyone.

“Vi, please.” Your voice catches in your throat, hoarse and full of need. An insatiable craving; one you fear only she can provide. A few mindless days and careless flirting to land in her sheets, her in yours, the details didn’t truly matter. A vampire out for blood, almost more venomous than precious canines breaking the skin, you yearned to suck on every last drop. But she didn’t seem to be in a mind frame to relinquish control.

“Please what? I’m not sure if I understand you.”

All of it, so tantalizing, so fucking infuriating. Three fingers inside you, effectively making you silent, shutting you up as she brings you closer to the edge. That’s the thing, truthfully, Vi has you right where she wants. Only a few thrusts away until you come undone around her. The black haired succubus increases the pace, thumb playing with your clit, her calloused fingers increasing your high as she applies more pressure on the thousands of nerve endings on your precious pearl.

“Shit. You’re gonna pay for this.”

“What? For making you come? I hardly constitute that as a crime.”

Your hands reach for the counter top, you’re not sure what exactly you want, but Vi makes you come for the first time that night. It’s a game, the push and pull. Dangerous. Intoxicating. Some disposition falling far from your fingertips, a game to her and a downward hill spiral for you. Addiction festering next to an open wound and the only antidote can be found on her tongue. Tasting the devil’s mouth is one thing but swallowing the sensation of the woman you’re beginning to love is something else entirely.

Vi, despite her best efforts not to, makes you fall over the edge. It’s more than her eager tongue and expectant mouth slurping at the vindication of your taste. The craving builds like an exposed vein. Her confidence irrevocably soars like a raven through the midnight sky. Even if Vi acts like she’s done this before, you could pull the curiosity intertwined with naivety a mile away. Violet has never done this before, not with a woman at least, you’re sure of it. She’s a fast learner and such a great accomplishment should replenish such a reward.

With the energy you have left, you push your skirt down first, as Vi puts your underwear back in place. She doesn’t stop touching you. She can’t. There isn’t much she feels she has control over, this arrangement being one of them. She’s good at this and Vi enjoys it. Every other part of her life, failure surrounds her, her ability not to please anyone in her life.

In a constant loop, she finds herself caught in the crossfire. Tugged between sister and lover, family and righteousness. Her enemy becomes her lover and lover becomes enemy — all of it poisons her blood and cures her core — and all of it makes her hear a voice she doesn’t recognize but it’s just as true as the four walls surrounding her.

Oil and water.

Collecting like scars on her porcelain skin, Vi feels herself sink like an obliterating star. There’s a wonder settled in her chest, it feels heavy and weak, two incapable fists unable to surround her heart with anything but loss, betrayal even. She can’t punch her way out of this one.

All of it wakes a fire in her chest, a dagger being punctured in her heart by the one Vi thought she could trust the most. She doesn’t want to admit it so she doesn’t.

But this? It feels easy.

She needs easy, light, even good. Maybe she doesn’t deserve it.

Vi definitely doesn’t, the sentence flows like a never-ending stream of waterfall continuously drowning her. The blood on her hands stains her perception of all things pure, she wonders how she even sees you at all. How you see her more vividly than anyone, possibly even Cait. There’s no judgment, no snarky remark of where she comes from. Even if she thought there had once been love, Vi questions it now.

When you come, it feels like a breath of fresh air, a golden wave washing over her sinful hands. Each stroke of gold, your grit and blind hopefulness soaks Vi’s entity. This is what she wants. There’s nothing more than this, someone she could love, who loves her. It’s uncomplicated but the feeling flees as you come to it. Vi can’t help but feel regretful as you cover your ass, it’s such a pretty sight. She can’t stop that she’s greedy, you’ve fed her for the first time in her life and now Vi feels full but she’s only human.

A sinner always craves more.

She lets her touch linger on the gold between your thighs, pushing the white substance back into you before Vi lets you feel how wet you are, the dripping slick feels uncomfortable caged into cotton underwear and she wants you to feel it. The breath Vi hears are still heavy, impossibly heavy, and there’s pride in hearing you center yourself, back pressed against her chest as Vi keeps you in place.

The pleasure within your body begins to slither away as you come back into the angel you are and not the sexual deviant bent over the woman who never pulls her punches.

“Felt good, yeah?” Vi says. Her angelic, sweeter than the cotton candy stick in your teeth, voice penetrates through. You like it too much. It shouldn’t make you feel as good as it does. Desperately, you want to keep this casual but you’re even losing your footing.

You pride yourself on the lack of attachment; you don’t need it. Never really had. But then with her it seems to change even faster than the seasons, your wall breaks somehow in between from spring to summer. With intent, you move around, her bright eyes have darken a bit but the fading light looks brighter than you’ve ever seen it.

Fuck, Vi is making this difficult.

“You could say that.” You speak softly, a tremble in your voice occurs but Vi says nothing but she does smirk. “Can I ask you something?”

You turn around and suddenly Vi is staring at your exposed cleavage, the one you use to draw in patreons and to fill your pockets with as many tips as one can muster. Vi had been one, a faithful one trying to drink her away to the bottom of every bottle until she found something else for her. Something that didn’t leave a burn in her throat.

“What is it?”

“Was it your first time? The first night?”

Sheepishly, Vi blushes. For a second, she contemplates lying but you’d see right through it. Right through her. It would only take one look in her blues and you would know.

“That obvious?” Vi struggles with her words next but she manages to murmur a lame excuse. “Stillwater didn’t leave much time for this.”

“And after?” You tease but the sincerity in your eyes soothes her.

“There could have been but there wasn’t. Some things just don’t fit.” Oil and water is what she wants to say but she bites her tongue.

“You should have told me. I wouldn’t have been so, I don’t know, selfish?”

“There’s nothing selfish about it. I wanted to make you feel good. Did you enjoy yourself?” This time she makes your skin feel hot. Fuck.

“Yeah, I did enjoy myself,” you pressed against her as your arms loop around Vi’s necks to bring her closer “but I think it’s officially my turn to offer my services. Don’t you think so?”

It’s how Vi ends up here, in your place, in your bed — soaked.

If there was one thing you knew, it was how to please someone. You managed to pull whimpers out of her she didn’t even know existed. The desperate plea coming from her shivering body as she spilled in your mouth the first time sent a shiver down her spine, the band in her stomach snapping as you sloppily spit on her cunt, constant circles of pressure on her clit seeing nothing but your eyes look up at her.

Not letting a single drop go to waste, you fucked Vi through it, swallowing her completely. Vi shed the wrap covering her chest next. Her body bruised from the pit fights but you couldn’t think of anyone more beautiful than her. You paid attention to her collarbones, neck, and her tits. Sucking on her nipples as Vi tries to come down from the high you placed her on, she doesn’t think she ever will.

She tries not to think that she wanted these things with Caitlyn. Cait. Cupcake.

Vi only allows herself to think of her when she’s dreaming, visions of what that could have been, what she used to be. All of it so trivial, so senseless when she thinks of you. How you make her feel is different and she tries not to think of what it all means.

One night.

Then two.

Now three.

In another life, maybe she was stronger, and didn't need to be wanted. Hell, even needed. She could wait for someone who she thought loves her but the other part of her doesn’t want to think, she wants to feel. Vi likes feeling the softness of your skin, the light in your laughter, the swell of your exposed chest, the way your greedy eyes take in her abs, your soft lips kissing every part of her skin. The smooth, the scarred, the unworthy — you take it all in such stride.

“Do you want to stop? I think I lost you for a second.” You inquire to the pretty girl beneath you, her hands find your waist, creating makeshift circles on your hip bones.

“No, that’s the last thing I want.” Vi brings you to her lips, capturing your bottom lip, tongue invading your mouth. She tastes herself as your tongue melts with hers and the rest of her worries melt away. It’s just you and her. “I want to keep going.”

“Then tell me what you want, baby. I’ll do whatever you want. It’s yours if you want it.”

It’s spoken as a reminder. All of this is her decision. Vi decides when she wants this, how she wants it, and you’re letting her take all of it in the way she needs. Vi tried not to think the first couple times, she never wanted her first time to be a big deal. Maybe with Caitlyn it could have been, but then she changed.

Vi thought maybe she could too. So, she did.

“Can you—” Vi stutters. Yet again her attention gets pulled to your tits, the softness of your stomach, she can’t stop looking at you. As if she’s trying to remember everything about you. She’s committed to it. Vi wants to remember the soft curves of your hips, the way you moan when she comes on your tongue.

The sight of you looking down at her makes she lose every rational thought, she wants to commit to memory forever. It won’t be something she easily forgets.

“Gotta speak up, babygirl. Especially if you want me to keep my attention focused on this pretty cunt of yours.”

You sit between her legs, tilting your head, you look at her glistening pussy, the way it shines with her cum and your sloppy spit. It would look even more exquisite with a little more. Taking a beat as you take your time, you gather enough in your mouth before spitting slowly, Vi whimpering as your spit makes contact with her lower pair of lips. She couldn’t stop it, it slips and you’re grinning, hips desperately bucking to feel more of it.

“F-Fuck, need your cock. Please? I need it more than anything.” Vi confesses. There’s no need for dignity, especially if she keeps it and you won’t give her what she’s itching for.

“Yeah? Are you sure about it? Don’t want you backing out just in case you can’t be a good girl and take it.”

She can take it but she can’t take the countless teasing, trapped underneath the images drowning in her mind. This is what she wants, someone to dissolve into her, make her forget everything that has happened, just a pretty girl with some pretty tits who knows how to fuck. Right? That’s all this is. It’s all it can be tonight. Her lip is busted from the fight tonight, knuckles bloodied and bruised, but you don’t seem to mind all that much. It’s all the same to you. Vi is all the same, that’s been clear from the start.

Then, she decides to let her mind get shut off, let herself fall into you. You did know how to take care of her and tonight she would let you.

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?”

“I promise.”

Once the harness is on, you wedge yourself in between her thighs, tattooed and toned, brave and brawny but she transforms into someone else entirely once you’re sinking inside her warm walls. You think about what it would feel like to feel her. Is she clenching around your cock? Would you feel the throbbing heartbreak of her clit? What you can hear is the whimper, uncontrollable and breathtaking, you slip further into her as you make home in her beautiful cunt.

She’s made it yours to take. You’d do anything and everything for her, the thought alone scares so you do what you do best, you grind your hips slowly. Not wanting to overwhelm her too quickly, it’s the first time she’s taking penetration and you want it to be good for her.

“You’re so perfect. Doing so good for me, taking my cock like a fucking champ.” You whisper out, taking too much enjoyment in her getting lost in your soft thrusts. Vi’s chest starts to heave as her hips roll into yours. Vi never even imagined wanting this, or that she could really have it with someone else. It’s not like she’s experienced, she has nothing to compare it to, but it feels incredibly intimate.

She likes how you’re being with her. Soft, gentle, delicate. Vi thought she’d never want to feel that way, but maybe it’s just under the right circumstance in the right light.

“Shit, shit, shit” Vi chants as your hand grabs the headboard, giving her one particular powerful thrust. Perky tits spring to life, jolting against the sudden movement, her moan so fucking load, as you continue your movements. This time not as hard, but you pick up your pace, wanting to see if she would have any arguments against it but Vi doesn’t. Profanities and whimpers leave her mouth as you split her on your cock. Face half-smashed into the pillow, trying to muffle her moans and you offer this one mercy.

She’s still shy.

Now is a good time as any to fuck it out of her.

“Do you want more Vi? Want me to go…faster?” Placing a hand on her abdomen, the abs defined and clenching as you halt your thrust for a moment. “Do you wanna feel me in your stomach, baby?”

“Can you even do that? I’m not so sure you’re even capable. Looks like the rookie knows more moves than the veteran.” Vi bites back. But it doesn’t last for long. Vi thinks she must have said the wrong thing, pushed you too far, you slipped off her but only to move her body to the edge of the bed, placing her on all fours right in front of a very convenient mirror.

“Fine. Thought I’d be sweet but that isn’t what you really want. If you want to get treated like a whore, I’ll fuck you like one.” You take a beat to appreciate her wonderfully sculpted back, the artwork is truly exquisite. It feels so much like her but the foolish girl is smirking at you through the mirror.

You know you’ve been caught ogling at her body, checking out every inch of her exposed body, you slap her ass in retaliation but she just grinds her ass back onto you.

“I’m waiting.” Teasingly, Vi arches her spine more. “Where’s the whore fucking you’re muling about?”

In one move, you’re inside her, fucking her beautiful face into the mattress. Never in her life has she felt so full, so good, so sweet. You grab her by the meat of her hips, bringing you back on her repeatedly. Vi wonders what she would give to have this, have you, and the thought scares her just as badly. She instead focused on you.

Tits bouncing as you thrust into her at a punishing pace. Divinely and so perfectly you, making her see stars, she feels trapped. Not in a punishing way, but in a way that has her never wanting to leave the entrapments of your coaxing cock. At this moment, this is where she’s meant to be, just a toy for you to use.

But it’s more than what meets the eye. If Vi was just a toy, you’d be done after the first night. Tonight, you weren’t using her for your own pleasure. You seemed perfectly content to give. The shine in her eyes gave you something only she could, edging you even further, a constant wave hitting Vi like a tidal wave making home on the shore.

“God, you’re just too perfect. Fuck, just like that, take what’s yours.” Bouncing back on the strap, the words fall from her lips before she can’t stop them. Overflowing like a water fountain, it’s before she really even realizes what she’s saying, it just feels right.

“Mommy, please.”

Vi has had those words on the tip of her tongue but not that you’re fucking her into a different dimension, she lets the aching plea slip from sinful lips. It’s only once but it’s enough to set you off. You pull Vi up, her gorgeous back pressed against your chest, sitting on your thighs as you fuck up into her. Brutally, she takes everything you have to give.

Sweat glistening across her body, accentuating her chest as she tries to compose herself but you don’t give her the option. No. It would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

“I want you to watch, Violet. Watch yourself when you cum, be a good girl and show me how pretty you look, hm? Wouldn’t wanna disappoint, Mommy, now would you?”

Vi sucks on your middle digit, tongues swirling as she feels the tight band in her stomach, threatening to snap. She’s close. When the sensationally soft pad of your thumb applies pressure on her clit, Vi’s done for.

“Shit, oh my fucking god, baby baby babbyyyyy.” Incoherent murmurs and moans come in abundance as Vi bounces herself your cock, falling right apart as you toy with her clit, fucking her through the impending high. Your other arm tweaks around and up, fingers squeezing her tits, over stimulating her as she slumps against you.

It’s the easiest task ever done. Submit to you, your skilled fingers, the power of your sinfully sensational thrusts, she comes all over you. The powerful demeanor weakens before your very eyes. When you gently move her back on the bed, slipping out of her, Vi’s eyes begin to water from the loss.

The first time getting strapped down is always a lot to handle, you’d still taken it easier on her, too afraid you would push her too far but by the blissed out eyes, she’d enjoyed herself. She had enjoyed herself and you couldn’t really ask for much more.

When the both of you are cleaned up, Vi cuddles into your frame and you let her. Even if your first instinct is to push her away, saying something you know that’ll hurt her, none of it finds any merit on your tongue. For the first time, you find it difficult to turn away a pretty girl, her lips kissing your collarbones, up your neck until she finds home on your own lips, sloppily invading your mouth with your tongue.

Hitting you where it hurts, she moans your name in her mouth, unable to contain the neediness she feels around you. It’s worse than Cait. This is pure addiction entangled with something carnal. Vi knows if she doesn’t get to fuck you again, you fucking her cunt again, she might as well give up on life now.

“I could go again.”

You chuckle. Of course she could.

“Don’t know rookie, that might be all you can handle for the night.”

It’s a challenge and you know she’ll bite the bait.

With ease she gets on top of you, and just as if she’s done it a hundred times, Vi sinks on your cock, “I think I can handle another ride, don’t you?”

#m'actually kinda proud of this one #(ᝰ.��) arcane works.#i hope y'all like it :')#lmk what you think <3 #vi #vi arcane #arcane league of legends #league of legends #vi smut #vi x reader #vi x you #vi arcane x reader #wlw post #wlw fanfiction #lesbian #violet arcane x reader #vi x fem reader #arcane x you #violet arcane

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ashen-char · 5 months ago

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expensive cars never took me where you do

my masterlist, to check out my other works, is here

ship: anora mikheeva (anora) x gender neutral reader

summary: being a mechanic dating a stripper is hard because you never get to spend enough time together. so anora spends a day in your garage.

word count: 3000+

notes: requested here. enjoy!

With your respective jobs, your schedules don't allow much time to be together. Not much overlap when you're in the garage from 8-6 every week day, while Ani's out from 5pm to the late morning stripping. Weekends, your main time for relaxation, were HQ's busiest times. As such, you had to make the most of the time that you did get. No more meal prepping for Ani when she gets home, for example. You took it upon yourself to whip stuff up for her to take to work in her trusty Tupperware, saving you two some much-needed cuddle time. Plus, you loved the awed look on her face whenever you made her favourite meals, the way she'd dance and hum happily when you let her taste-test it.

The train blares its horn, rattling Ani's entire room as it passes by. Cheap rent, Ani had explained the first time you stayed over and jerked awake to the sound, startled by the sudden noise and movement. She hadn't even opened her eyes, just stayed cuddled up on your chest. She's used to it. Even after months of dating her, it wakes you up everytime, which makes Ani laugh, teasing and calling you 'Princess and the Pea' for being so sensitive. So right now you're wide awake, checking your phone to see if she'll be home soon.

wifey��: on the subway now! keep the bed warm 💋

You smile, sending back a kiss of your own. "stay safe," you type.

It's 4am when Ani slips into the room. Her harsh expression (or resting bitch face as she sometimes refers to it as) softens when she sees you, and she quickly sheds her coat, scarf, and beanie as well. "Why are you still up, dummy? You're gonna fall asleep on the fuckin' job, I swear..." she chastises.

"Sorry, babe," you whisper, stretching and shifting over to your side of the bed to let Ani into the sheets. "I knew you were coming home soon is all. Wanted to see you come in."

Your sleep shirt, like most of your clothes really, has these distinct splotches of oil on them. Made worse by your bad habit of wiping your hands on whatever's around. After years in the garage, you've learned to not bother with trying to keep clothes looking clean. The very worst of them get turned into rags or purely as sleep clothes since you don't like wasting anything. 'Waste not, want not' is a deeply-rooted mantra from when you didn't have the money to dispose and replace things so easily.

"I'm just saying." Ani shrugs, slipping the rest of her clothes off too. Fluid in her movements, as if her commute clothes were made to be taken off just like her HQ attire.

Your eyes trail over her frame appreciatively, taking in the rose tattoo at her ribcage that makes you smile, or the slight muscle of her core and arms. She's fit. She needs to be to work the pole like that, but can't put on too much muscle to turn away the knuckleheads that frequent Headquarters. Stupid but it brings in the dough, as Ani would say.

"Don't blame me if you smash your finger in a door again 'cause you weren't paying attention," she says, giggling when she throws her tank top at you. You catch it, give it a deep sniff. "God, you're so gross!" Ani complains. There's that laugh you were looking for.

"I'm not that clumsy." You frown, but it's hard to keep on when she's giggling like that. "It just clipped me, I didn't lose a nail or anything."

After slipping one of your larger shirts on - which almost comically swallows up her frame - she finally slips in beside you. You kiss Ani's cheek, and let her cuddle into you. Even if you know you smell of grease and gasoline and she's gonna cuss at you and say you need a shower. Burrowing her nose into the crook of your neck, she inhales you deeply, letting your scent fill her lungs. With the way she hums, you know she's content. Soothed. Letting the night melt away, all the pressures of the club or the bullshit from Diamond. She doesn't have to be on, not when she's here with you.

"Some of your body glitter's still on ya," you tell her. Your finger dabs at the corner of Ani's neck, which must have been missed by her makeup wipes.

She shivers at the contact. You used to be insecure of the fact that your hands feel like sandpaper but Ani sure seems to love it. One time she told you it was weird that you've never seen her as 'Ani'. The way she is in the club, she meant. No makeup, no heels, no cute little outfits. Of course, she likes to glam up when you two do make the time to go out on dates, but it's not similar to what she puts on for the club. Doesn't have to think about balancing the right amount of cling to show off her assets with the ease of removal.

With you, Ani said she felt like the girl she was before all this. Before the club, before Vanya, before the glitter and glam. There's nothing sexy about your lives, really. Both of them working shit jobs, living paycheck to paycheck. But for some reason, she found it comforting.

"Well, I missed you."

She's so tired. Never enough sleep, always on the go. But your body is warm and solid and she can relax. Just for a bit. "I missed you too," she mumbles. "Even if you fuckin' stink or whatever."

Ani lifts her head to look at you, eyes soft. "What time you gotta be at work?

"In a few hours," you answer in a groan. You didn't want to be reminded of it. You hate leaving before she wakes up, hate the way her body always tries to cling to you by instinct. Feels wrong, even if you know it's necessary. "The new apprentice, Jon, he still needs to be trained. He keeps texting me dumb ass questions. Like, dude, change the oil, you don't need my permission!"

"Mm I getcha. Like sometimes I show new girls the ropes. I remember Lulu being the newbie once actually," your girlfriend shares. "Poor thing. She was scared shitless when she mixed up a song request and didn't know how to play it off like a pro yet."

Ani tells you about the 'fresh meat' sometimes, how they're usually gone within the month when they realise the gig's not their thing. Usually 18-21, the type of girls that got told they were pretty enough times to want to make some coin off of it but without any dance training to speak of. The established girls do their best to make the space inviting and fun. To guide them to the right classes, how to manoeuvre around the club and look impressive on the pole without getting hurt. But ultimately it's their choice. Leave or stay.

Mostly, your definition of 'training' is trying not to yell at the poor kid, unless it's a safety concern obviously. He's an idiot and fixing his mistakes is a pain in the ass, but you don't want him quitting. It'll be more annoying to find a replacement since you've already spent the last few months making sure he can do shit without your supervision. The garage is small, started off as a glorified chop shop that you converted with some friends,

You must have gotten lost in your thoughts for a while, because Anora laughs at your scowl and shoves you. "Geez, who pissed you off? You're not even listenin' to me now huh?" she complains from her spot on your chest.

"Sorry, sorry. Just the apprentice. Broke a 10mm bolt today."

"Boooo. Speak American. What the fuck is a millimeter." Her eyes roll at the excuse and the metric system, and her sheer... Anora-ness makes your bad mood lift and a smile crack.

Which is where the idea comes from. "Do you have any days off soon?" you ask.

Anora shrugs. "Yeah, this Thursday. Why?"

"I want you to visit the shop! Come on. Didn't you always say you wanted to come and 'see what I do all day'?"

Her nails scrape up your arms, and her words are mumbled and muffled against your chest. A vibrating sensation that tickles you. "What would I even do there though? No offense, I'm sure it's riveting, but you can't exactly entertain me if you're working. Plus, when I said I wanna visit I meant I wanted to drop in sometime, give you coffee or something. Not... what, sit there and look pretty?" Anora laughs at the image, shaking her head against you. It's clear she thinks she'll just be a burden if she comes, that she'll do more harm than good.

"For one, I'd be a lot less stressed explaining myself over and over to him if you were at the shop. I could pretend I'm explaining to you," you say, trying to convince her.

Honestly, the idea of Ani 'sitting there and looking pretty' has already won you over. Who wouldn't want their gorgeous girlfriend there to impress with their mad car skills? You've been dreaming of this moment since you were a teen, fixing up a rusted hunk of a truck. Looking back it's embarrassing, but you were convinced that if you got it up and running, your crush would've swooned and asked you to give her rides to school then and there. Explaining your passion to a beautiful girl, showing off your hard work and how you could help her... it's a fucking dream.

Anora giggles. "Oh, I'm sure. You just wanna flex your mechanic brain and your stupid sexy muscles." Tilting her head up, she flashes those big brown eyes at you and you're gone. She's so heartbreakingly perfect like this. No makeup, bags under her eyes, the natural pout of her lips. Tired, from all the hard work and effort she puts into everything she does.

"Come on, please?" you ask, tilting your head down in response so your forehead meets hers. Skin to skin, gaze to gaze. Her nose presses into yours. "I wanna spend more time with you. I wanna show you what I do. Bonus points that it'll help me not scare off the new kid."

Anora nods sagely, like it's a sacred task you're entrusting to her. Her arms wrap around your neck, keeping you pressed against her. She's definitely not complaining about how you smell now. "Alright, grease monkey. I wanna be wowed."

"OK, you might remember this one. That's what I attached my cables to when your car wouldn't start," you say, gesturing to the battery, particularly to the red end in case it looks familiar to her.

To you, it's unforgettable how the normally cool and confident Ani was shaking in her leather boots when you told her to clamp it. Like she thought she'd get electrocuted then and there. Anora grasped you so hard, and your heart thumped at the knowledge that she trusted you'd never let something bad happen to her.

Ani leans against the wall, watching you work under the hood of a car. Her arms are crossed, one foot kicked up behind her, resting against the wall. She's putting on her best 'cool girl' attitude, but inside, you know she's fascinated. You know your shit.

"So, like, what's all this stuff do?" Ani asks, gesturing vaguely at the engine. "It's all just metal and wires and shit to me. Rusted shit."

You chuckles, wiping your hands on a rag before taking hers. "Well, babe, this here's the heart of the car. The engine. Makes it go vroom vroom," you teases, revving an imaginary engine.

Ani rolls her eyes but smiles. "Okay, smartass. But like, what do all the parts do?"

You take the time to point to the different components, explaining in layman's terms. The specific car you're looking at is one from a regular customer, so you've run maintenance on it for years. You tell her stories of the parts you had to replace, especially the shitshow last month when you had imported specific parts from Japan and the apprentice misplaced them.

Ani listens intently, asking questions when she doesn't understand. She grins like she's won the lottery whenever you tell her she asked a great question. You involve Jon too - if it seems like something he should be able to handle, you make him answer it. Correcting him when he gets something slightly wrong, or if you wanted a more detailed explanation. It makes you laugh when Jon messes up his words because Ani is just that gorgeous. As for the complicated ones, you're patient, breaking it down so she grasps the basics.

"So, like, this is why it's important to get your oil changed regularly," Ani says, tapping the oil pan. She's squatting down to watch you as you're laid out on the dolly. "Cuz if it's all gunked up, the engine can't, what, lubricate itself or something? No lube is rough, I get it." She sighs, patting the hood like she's empathising with it.

That makes you chortle, never prepared for Ani's crass jokes or references to your very active sex life. "OK, hold on, no lube has always been your idea!" you protest, giving a weak kick from underneath.

"I didn't say I didn't like it~"

"Alright, masochist." Rolling your eyes now, you focus on her actual observation. "And to your previous point, exactly," you beam, proud of her. "See? You're a quick learner."

Ani preens under the praise. "I got a good teacher."

She helps you out from under the Nissan Tiida, sliding you back out. Work's slow sometimes. The city's got a lower amount of people who own their own cars, and you don't like the monotony of working on the same make over and over, so you don't usually go for fixing up taxis or rented cars. This specific one has been a passion project, something you toy around with when there's not much to do. You've wanted to take it home for a while, but you've been holding off. Not until it's perfect.

"Alright. What's, mm, that one?" Anora asks.

Standing up, you come up behind her, your warm breath on her neck as you lean over to see what she's pointing at. "That's the intake manifold. It brings in the air and fuel mixture the engine needs to run. Sometimes it cracks and leaks out more air than it should."

Ani nods, trying to wrap her head around it. "Okay, I think I get it. So, like, if this thing's fucked up, the car won't run right? Or at least the engine will go fucky."

"Pretty much," you confirm, wrapping your arms around her waist now. Jon's off on a lunch break. You make him go pick up burgers at a spot a few blocks down when the shop's quiet like this. Means less time of him hassling you. "But don't worry, I'll always make sure our ride is in tip top shape."

You press a kiss to her hair. The tinsel in it always falls straight down, which is why Anora straightens her hair every day to make it look right. With you, all natural without anyone else to impress? Her hair's got her natural waves, looking healthy and sleek.

Ani melts into your embrace, leaning her head back against your shoulder. "I know you will, babe. You're the best."

The two of you stand there for a moment, just enjoying each other's presence. You can't help it. You wanna tell her everything, there's a compulsion in you. Then you pull away, taking Ani's hand. "C'mon, I wanna show you something."

You lead her to the car you were just working on, opening the driver's side door. It's not flashy, not luxurious or even running perfectly yet. But it's got its charm. The seats are comfortable unlike leather which gets hot quickly, it's surprisingly spacious on the inside, and the wooden look of the interior detailing makes it look and feel cozy.

"What are you-"

"I bought it for us. Out of pocket," you explain, helping Ani into the passenger seat. "It wasn't cheap, but it's been sitting in the shop for months, and I just couldn't let it go to waste."

Ani runs her hands over the dashboard, the textured cream seats. It's not new, but it's been lovingly restored. All by you. No way you'd let Jon touch this. "It's beautiful," she breathes. "Did you do all this?"

You nod. Her awed look makes you push out your chest a little, ego thoroughly inflated. "Most of it. I had a friend look at the AC, but yeah. This is all me, babe."

Ani turns to you, throwing her arms around your neck. "I love it. I love you. You're amazing," she gushes, peppering your face with kisses.

"I figured it was time we had a real car. One that's ours. No more borrowing beaters or taking the subway everywhere. Even if you say it's alright and you like the subway." You return the 'I love you' and pucker your lips for her to kiss.

"Thank you," Ani whispers, cupping your face in her hands. "You're the best partner a girl could ask for. I mean that. Who the fuck fixes up a whole car just to surprise their girlfriend?"

"Anything for you, princess," you murmur against her lips.

"Princess?" Anora playfully shoves you away. "You're fucking high."

But you mean it. You wanna spoil her to the best of your abilities, wanna make her feel like a princess even with your meagre funds and lack of time together. You want to make her feel like the most special girl in the world.

"How about I take you for a spin in our new ride?" you offer. Your hands grip the steering wheel, the polished wood under your hands. "And the best part! No more relying on the subway. I know this isn't exactly rolling in style but..."

Anora shakes her head, taking your hand. It's calloused and rough, but the way she holds it makes you feel like you could be tender in your own way. Makes you appreciate that your hands and hard work is the way you show it, not by blowing cash. "It's perfect," she tells you. "Because you did it, because you wanted to provide. That's all I need."

"Better than the limos Ivan rode you around in?"

Anora rolls her eyes, looking at you like it's a stupid question. Because how could she even compare the two when you're in front of her, giving her everything you can? "No competition, baby. I thought I wanted that, back then, but you're what I was really waiting for."

It's so mushy and vulnerable, coming from her. Just straight from the heart. "I'm nothing special," you attempt to refuse.

"You're the only fucking one who knows what I need. Who gives it to me, no matter what it is," Ani tells you, refusing your refusal. "You've got me. Body and soul."

#anora #mikey madison x reader #requested #anora mikheeva x reader #if there's typos sorry i did it on my phone again lmao

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alohajix · 3 months ago

Text

𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐈 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤

Description: when Ember comes home from college, the last person she expects to fall for is her brother’s best friend. But one stolen kiss turns into something neither of them can walk away from.

Warnings: this one-shot contains mature themes and explicit content such as praise kink, oral sex (f receiving), soft dominance, no protection sex (pack it before you tape it guys), emotional vulnerability, mention of past toxic relationship. Readers +18.

Words count: 5.5K.

enjoy guys 💕

*****

The house smelled like home the moment I stepped inside—fresh laundry, old hardwood floors, and the lingering scent of the cinnamon candle Mom used to light before she left. I kicked my shoes off near the door and dragged my suitcase over the threshold, already hearing laughter coming from the kitchen.

I wasn’t expecting company. Not this early.

“Ember?” my brother’s voice called out. “That you?”

“Yeah,” I answered, dropping my bag by the stairs. “Didn’t know you were home.”

He stepped into the hallway, grinning as he wiped his hands on a dish towel. “Got in yesterday. I’ve got someone helping me fix the garbage disposal.”

And that’s when I saw him. Harry. Leaning against the doorframe like he’d always belonged there, curls damp from the heat, sleeves pushed up over his forearms, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. He looked taller. Or maybe broader. Or maybe I’d just spent too much time trying to forget how good he looked in gray sweatpants and worn-in t-shirts.

“Hey, Em,” he said, voice a little lower than I remembered. “Long time.”

I blinked, swallowing the flutter in my chest. “Hey. Yeah. Been a while.”

He pushed off the frame and walked over, arms wide like we were just friends. Like it was normal. I hesitated, then stepped into his hug. Warmth. Familiar. Strong hands on my back, not lingering but not rushed either. His chest against mine just long enough to make me realize how far from little I felt in his arms.

He pulled back with a wink. “Didn’t expect you home so soon.”

“Semester ended early,” I said. “I needed a break.”

“Yeah?” His eyes searched mine for a beat too long. “Break from what?”

Before I could answer, my brother clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “From idiot boyfriends, probably.”

Harry’s jaw tightened just slightly. Barely enough to notice.

I offered a forced smile. “Something like that.”

“Well,” my brother said, oblivious. “You can help us haul stuff from the garage later. We’re clearing out Dad’s old workbench.”

“Perfect,” I muttered, trying not to look at Harry again. But I felt him. Every time he moved, every time his gaze flicked toward me, like he was trying to figure something out.

He followed my brother back into the kitchen, and I stood frozen in the hallway, heart hammering. Harry Styles was in my house. The same boy who used to tease me for having braces and cried laughing when I fell into the pool in my clothes. The same man who’d ghosted me for years only to show up now—looking like that, sounding like that—and calling me Em like nothing had changed. But everything had changed. Especially me.

*****

The sun had started its descent by the time I wandered outside with a cold drink in hand. The sky was orange and hazy, casting that kind of dreamy light that made everything feel warmer than it was. I found them both in the garage, boxes pulled apart and tools spread out across the workbench.

Harry had shed his hoodie. Now he was in a black tank top that clung to his chest, shoulders flexing every time he reached for something. There was grease on his fingers. A smear on his jaw. I stared a second too long before he caught me. His lips curved. I looked away.

“You good?” my brother asked without glancing up.

“Yeah,” I said, walking over. “Need help?”

“We could use some sorting,” Harry offered, pulling open a dusty drawer. “Unless you’re too delicate for a little dirt.” There was that old teasing tone again. Familiar. Comfortable. Dangerous.

I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the one wearing white sneakers in a garage.”

He laughed—soft and surprised. “Alright then. Let’s see what you’ve got, Em.”

He handed me a box, our fingers brushing. Just a light touch, but my stomach flipped. I turned away too quickly. We worked in near silence for a while, but not the awkward kind. My brother had music playing low on a speaker, something classic and mellow, and the three of us moved around each other like a lazy rhythm. Occasionally, Harry would say something under his breath that made me smile. Once, he nudged my hip when I was in the way, murmuring a soft “excuse me, trouble.” My brother didn’t seem to notice the way Harry watched me. Or maybe he did, and he was in denial. Because I was me, and Harry was Harry, and there were unspoken rules.

Rules Harry had always followed. Until now.

When the sun finally dipped behind the trees, my brother called it. “Alright, I’m starving. Chinese?”

“Sounds good,” Harry said, stretching his arms behind his head.

I shouldn’t have looked. But I did. Veins. Biceps. The smallest hint of a tattoo under the edge of his tank. I tore my eyes away before either of them caught me staring.

“I’ll shower quick,” my brother added, heading inside. “Don’t eat all the spring rolls before I get back.”

I rolled my eyes, then turned to grab another box—only to bump straight into Harry’s chest.

He caught my waist, steadying me. “Careful.”

My hands landed on his stomach, firm under the thin cotton of his shirt. I should have stepped back. Should have said something casual. But my mouth went dry. So did his.

His hands lingered a little too long. “You alright?” he asked softly.

I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. Just tired.”

His thumb brushed against my side like he didn’t mean to—but we both knew he did. His jaw clenched. Eyes dropped to my lips. For a second, I thought he might kiss me. Right there. In the garage. With my brother just inside. But he didn’t.

Instead, he stepped back. And smiled like he hadn’t just pulled the air out of my lungs.

“I’ll go clean up too,” he said, grabbing his hoodie off the stool. “Don’t want to scare the delivery guy.”

He walked past me, and I let my eyes follow him—until he glanced back. Caught me again. This time, he didn’t look away.

*****

The house had gone still. That late-night kind of quiet, when everything feels heavier—footsteps, thoughts, the tension you’ve been pretending not to feel all day.

I crept down to the kitchen barefoot, needing water. Maybe space. Maybe something to make sense of the way Harry had looked at me in the garage. The way I could still feel his hands on my waist hours later.

I didn’t expect him to be there. He stood with the fridge door open, bathed in the pale glow of the light. Hair damp from his shower, curls loose and messy. Just a plain white t-shirt now. Grey sweatpants slung low on his hips.

He looked over his shoulder when he heard me. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

I shook my head. “Too much on my mind.”

He grabbed two bottles of water and passed me one. Our fingers touched again, and this time, neither of us looked away. We stood there in silence for a few seconds, the kind that pulses with everything unsaid. Then he leaned against the counter, arms folded.

“You alright?” he asked quietly. Not casual this time. Real.

I nodded, but it wasn’t convincing.

“Ember.” My name in his voice did something to me. Made my throat tighten.

I swallowed hard. “It’s just weird being home. Everything feels the same but I don’t.”

He watched me like he wanted to ask why. Like he already knew.

“That guy you were with,” he said after a moment. “Your brother told me a little. Didn’t sound like he treated you right.”

I looked down, gripping the bottle in my hand.

“He didn’t.” Harry’s jaw tightened again, that same flash of protectiveness I’d seen earlier rising up in him. But softer this time. More personal.

“He ever hurt you?” he asked, voice low. Controlled.

“Not like that,” I said. “Just… made me feel small. Like I was always too much or not enough.”

Harry stepped closer, slow, deliberate. “You were never too much. Or not enough.”

I looked up at him, my chest aching. “You don’t even know me anymore.” He moved closer still. Inches away now.

“Maybe not,” he said. “But I want to.”

The room shrank around us. The hum of the fridge faded. My pulse roared in my ears.

“You can’t,” I whispered, barely trusting myself. “You’re—”

“Your brother’s best friend,” he finished, stepping even closer.

I nodded, heart pounding.

He searched my face, voice hushed and rough. “Do you want me to stop?” I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t want him to.

His hand came up, fingers brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. My breath hitched. And then he kissed me. Soft. Careful. Like he was giving me the chance to pull away. I didn’t.

I leaned in, my hands finding his chest, gripping the front of his t-shirt like it was the only thing holding me together. He deepened the kiss, his hands moving to my waist, then my back, then curling into my hair like he’d been waiting to do it for years. We pulled apart once. Barely. His forehead rested against mine.

“This is a bad idea,” he said.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “Really bad.”

But neither of us moved. His lips brushed mine again—so gently, so reverently, like he was memorizing the shape of them. And I knew we were past the point of turning back.

We didn’t say anything as we crept upstairs. The house was too quiet, too easy to get caught, but I didn’t care—not with the way Harry’s hand brushed the small of my back as we moved, not with how his eyes stayed on me even in the dark. We passed my brother’s room without a sound. The hallway stretched long and silent, but it felt like fire under my skin.

I pushed my bedroom door open slowly. He followed me in, closing it behind us with a soft click. We stood there for a beat. Breathing. Thinking. Not thinking.

His voice came low in the dark. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know,” I whispered. “But I don’t want you to stop.” That was all it took.

His mouth was on mine before the words had even finished leaving my lips, rougher this time. Hungrier. His hands cupped my jaw, his body pressing me back until my legs hit the edge of the bed. I fell into the mattress with a soft gasp, and he followed, crawling over me, one hand sliding under the hem of my shirt.

“You’re driving me insane,” he murmured against my neck, voice thick and strained. “You have no idea what it’s been like all day… trying not to touch you.”

I arched into him. “Then stop trying.”

His groan was quiet but deep, vibrating through me as his hand slipped higher, over my ribs, under my bra. His mouth kissed down my neck, open and wet, teeth grazing lightly.

“F*ck,” he whispered. “You feel so good already. I shouldn’t be doing this.”

I cupped his face, pulled him back to look at me. “Then make it worth it.” That flipped something in him.

His mouth crashed into mine, tongue sweeping in, hands tugging my shirt over my head. He pulled away just enough to look down at me, chest rising hard, eyes blown wide in the soft darkness.

“No bra?” he breathed, voice like gravel.

I smiled. “Too lazy. Regret it?”

He laughed—low, dangerous—and leaned down to take one nipple into his mouth. My back arched instinctively, breath catching as his tongue flicked and sucked, his hand kneading the other breast like he couldn’t get enough.

“F*ck,” I whispered, fingers threading through his curls. “You’re not supposed to be this good.”

He looked up at me, lips wet. “Baby, I’ve barely started.”

Then his hand slid down my stomach, fingertips teasing the waistband of my shorts.

“You gonna let me taste you?” he asked, voice dark and sweet. “Wanna see if you’re as sweet down there as you are up here.”

I swallowed hard. “Take them off.”

He smirked, and then my shorts were gone. My panties, too. All in one smooth motion that made my heart race. And when he spread my thighs open with both hands, his eyes locked on mine and he said, “Don’t look away. I want you to watch me fall apart over this p*ssy.”

I couldn’t look away if I tried. Harry was on his knees at the edge of the bed, fingers wrapped around my thighs like he’d never let go. His eyes never left mine—not even when he leaned in, lips ghosting just above where I ached for him most. He kissed the inside of my knee first. Then a little higher. Then the other leg. Soft, warm, maddening kisses that made my hips twitch.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath, voice thick with awe. “You’re already shaking.” I breathed out a laugh, barely.

“Maybe because you’re torturing me.”

He grinned. “Not torture, love. Just… appreciating.”

And then he kissed the crease of my thigh—slow, reverent—his stubble scraping gently against my skin. His hands stroked along the tops of my thighs, thumbs tracing lazy circles that only made everything burn more. He paused just before his mouth reached me, hovering.

“You want this?” he asked, quiet and serious.

“Yes.” My voice cracked on the word.

He leaned in, lips parting, and kissed me there—soft and warm and so slow I thought I might lose my mind. A long lick, flat and firm, made my head fall back.

“Jesus,” I gasped.

He chuckled softly. “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

His tongue moved with more purpose now, slow laps between my folds, taking his time. Exploring. Learning. And when he flicked his tongue just right, just enough pressure on my cl*t, I cried out without thinking. Harry groaned.

“That the spot?” he murmured, breath hot against me.

I nodded fast, hips lifting off the mattress. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” He tightened his grip on my thighs, holding me open. “Not until you cum for me, Ember. Want to feel you shake on my tongue.”

My hand found his hair, fingers curling tight as he buried his face between my legs again—messier this time, more eager, like he was starving and I was the only thing he wanted.

“F*ck, Harry,” I moaned. “You’re so good.”

He hummed against me, the vibration shooting straight through me. His tongue swirled, circled, flicked in just the right rhythm until my breath turned shallow and my thighs started to tremble.

“Close, aren’t you?” he said, glancing up with that smug, wrecked look. His lips were slick, his jaw flushed. “You gonna cum for me, baby?”

I whimpered. “Yes—don’t stop, please—”

He didn’t. He held me steady and kept his mouth on me, his tongue relentless and patient, coaxing me toward the edge until it hit—

Hard.

My whole body tensed as I came, loud and breathless, legs shaking around his shoulders. He didn’t stop until I was gasping, writhing, too sensitive to take more. Only then did he pull back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, breathing just as hard as I was.

“I knew you’d fall apart for me,” he said, eyes dark. “F*cking knew it.”

Harry was still on his knees between my legs, breath ragged, lips swollen, and eyes full of something I couldn’t name—like worship and hunger had tangled together and taken him over completely. I reached for him.

“Come here,” I whispered.

He climbed up the bed slowly, dragging his hands along my sides, eyes searching mine like he was waiting for me to change my mind. I didn’t. My fingers found the hem of his shirt and tugged it up. He let me take it off without a word. His skin was warm and firm under my palms, the softest dusting of hair down the center of his chest leading lower. I wanted to feel all of him. I wanted him.

I slid my hands down his stomach, fingers dipping into the waistband of his sweatpants. He inhaled sharply as I slipped them down, his c*ck springing free—thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip.

“Jesus,” I breathed.

He let out a quiet laugh, rough and shaky. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

I wrapped my hand around him, slow and deliberate, just to watch the way his jaw clenched.

“Not bad,” I whispered. “Just… exactly what I wanted.”

He leaned over me, one hand braced beside my head, the other curling around my hip.

“You sure about this?” he asked again, voice hoarse. “Because if I start, I won’t be able to stop.”

I lifted my hips, lining him up against me, the blunt head of his c*ck brushing through my folds.

“I don’t want you to stop.” That was it.

He pushed in slowly—inch by inch—filling me, stretching me, making me gasp and grip his shoulders. His forehead dropped to mine, his groan deep and low as he sank all the way in.

“F*ck,” he breathed. “You feel like heaven.”

We stayed there for a moment, still and full of fire, just breathing each other in. Then he started to move. Slow, deep thrusts that made me gasp, made my back arch, made my body open to him in every way I could. His hand gripped my thigh, pulling it higher around his waist. His mouth found my jaw, my neck, my shoulder—pressing kisses like promises.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he whispered into my skin. “Thinking about how you’d feel. How you’d sound.”

I moaned beneath him, nails digging into his back. “You’re better than I ever imagined.”

That made him groan again—louder this time—and he picked up the pace, his hips hitting mine with more urgency, more desperation.

“Say that again,” he growled.

“You’re so good, Harry. So f*cking good.”

He lost it after that. His thrusts turned rougher, deeper, like he couldn’t get close enough. His hand tangled in my hair, pulling gently so he could look down at me.

“Look at me,” he said. “Wanna watch you fall apart on my c*ck.”

I did. I kept my eyes locked on his as he fucked me harder, every stroke hitting just right, until I was panting, shaking, crying out his name over and over.

“Come with me,” he whispered, mouth on my neck. “Wanna feel you cum when I do. Wanna feel you clench around me while I fill you up.”

The filthy promise pushed me over the edge. I shattered beneath him, body pulsing around him as he groaned loud and deep, hips stuttering as he came hard, spilling into me with a final, desperate thrust. He stayed there, buried inside me, forehead pressed to mine, both of us breathless and shaking. Neither of us said anything for a long time.

And then Harry kissed me—slow, deep, almost gentle. Like he already knew that this wasn’t just sex. That something about this mattered.

The room was still. Heavy with the scent of sweat and skin and sex. My sheets were twisted beneath us, and Harry’s arm was still wrapped tightly around my waist like he was afraid I’d disappear.

Neither of us moved for a while. I stared at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath, trying to make sense of the way I felt—like I’d just unraveled and been put back together all at once. Harry’s fingers traced lazy lines along my side. Up. Down. Around the curve of my hip. Gentle and aimless like he didn’t want the moment to end.

“You okay?” he asked softly, voice low and rough.

I nodded against his chest. “Yeah. Are you?”

He gave a small laugh, breath brushing my hair. “Pretty sure I just had the best sex of my entire life. So… yeah. I’m good.”

I smiled, hiding it against his skin. Then, quieter, he added, “Wasn’t just that, though.”

I looked up. His eyes were on me, softer now. Honest. “It wasn’t just sex for me. I don’t know what it was, but… it was more than that.”

Something tight in my chest loosened.

“Me too,” I whispered. “It felt… right. Even though it probably shouldn’t have.”

He brushed my hair off my face. “I never let myself think about it. Not seriously. You were always just Ember—your brother’s little sister.”

I smirked. “Not so little anymore.”

His hand slid down to squeeze my ass gently. “No. Definitely not.”

We both laughed, and for a second, everything felt lighter. Easier. But there was still something lingering under the surface.

“What happens now?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Harry sighed, resting his forehead against mine. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On if you want this to be a one-time thing,” he said slowly. “Or if you want me to risk your brother murdering me in the name of something real.”

I blinked. “You want something real?”

He nodded. No hesitation. “I do,” he said. “If you do.”

I leaned in, kissed him softly. “I want you.”

His smile was everything—soft and wrecked and relieved all at once.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he whispered. “Even if it means sneaking around for a while. I’ll take whatever you give me.”

We stayed tangled like that for a long time. His arm around me, my fingers tracing shapes on his chest, our legs tangled under the sheets. At some point, he pulled the blanket up over both of us, and I let myself relax completely.

For the first time in a long time, I felt safe. Wanted. And maybe, just maybe… loved.

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