#LOWKEY...I THINK ABOUT THIS SOMETIMES TOO LOL

[acircusfullofdemons]

Oh my god...OH MY GOD???? THIS IS SO GOOD WHAT THE HELL. DIVINE. YOURE SPOILING ME 😍 IM OBSESSED WITH THIS THE MOODBOARD IS SO NICE AND COLORFUL AAAAAAA

Time Works a Little Differently Here… Let’s Put On The Best Performance Ever, Okay?

Lead Guitarist!Aerith + Singer/Performer!Calypso The Elemental Rhythm + Dreamset Circus

💙/💙/💙 🎵/🎵/🎵 💖/💖/💖

*Dreamset Circus, Calypso, and their depictions belong to @acircusfullofdemons! (No special occasion, I just love you and your paras <3)

[javierduffy]

“uh … it’s a bit girly … no?” javier examines himself in the reflection of his knife’s blade, looking this-a way and that, the dark blue of a large silken bow now peeking sheepishly around his neck as it sits gently in his hair. next to him, kieran clams up a smidge, hands still held close to his chest nearby his completed ribbon project on javier’s head. he finds it in himself to wring his hands a time or two rather than immediately undo his work as javier seems to continue to formulate his final opinion. “you … think so? look at me?” kieran asks, politely as a mouse. javier easily complies, turns at his hips and looks behind, up at kieran where he sits on the stump above him.

kieran, as he peers over, can’t help the meadow of flush that blooms over his neck, then his ears, then his nose and his cheeks. he can tell javier is deep in thought by the look on his face, mouth twisted just a might sideways, cocking his mustache awry, and the deep wrinkle sat between his brows. the ribbon he used matches javier’s vest perfectly, and the shine of the silk warms bright in the sun, just like every piece of jewelry and metal javier has adorned himself with. with this ribbon, javier’s hair sits lower on his head, ponytail draped down his nape and more hair framing his face in his bangs. kieran resists an urge to tuck one side back behind his ear.

kieran thinks that he looks like a painting, a muse, a love letter so heartbreakingly full of adoration that the only language it could be written in is bright swipes of pigment on a canvas. as he makes eye contact with the silk squinting around the red of a necktie, he thinks that javier may be right, if ‘girly’ could sum up ’poetry written in effeminate reverence’.

kieran always did think women made better art, wrote better books- found a better way to love. softer. warmer. prettier. like javier.

the world sounds like it’s underwater.

“i think … it’s very pretty. it suits you real well.”

earnest to a fault, the look in kieran’s eye dances gingerly with javier’s internal voice. it dips and sways him, and javier, despite his instinct, finds himself charmed by its rhythm.

“-b-but! i could take it out! if you don’t-“ javier looks down at himself in his knife again, the sunlight filtered through the leaves glinting a yellow green around his dark features, and kieran hands him patience on a silver platter. a rich blue makes friends with bright green quite easy, javier thinks. this is how he must look through kieran’s mossy lens.

“pretty … yes. you know, i think you may be right. i’ll keep it. gracias.”

[tvckerwash]

wash tormenting the reds in the most petty ways possible because he's still pissed off about them hitting him with a car and then blowing him up in s8 is so important to me you don't even understand

[justobsessedwithvic]

Sometimes when I walk I daydream about visiting you or you visiting me

Mill

omg I thought I was the only one of us who does that :3333

[slimyenemy]

hey you don't really do that i think?????

[coolcoelacanth]

beep boop secret in the tags

[loaksky]

— come a little closer

hockey jock!vi x tutor!reader, fluff / humor / angst / kinda slowburn / smut (18+ mdni!), wc: 16k+ [buckle your seatbelts bc i could not shut the fuck up about vi if i wanted to !]

synopsis: you’re many things; an exemplary student, quiet and well-mannered, loved immensely by those who bother to get to know you, but most importantly, the newfound object of superstar athlete vi’s every affection. or, in other words, hockey jock!vi is lowkey a loser, atrociously down bad, and will stop at nothing to make you hers.

content warnings: language (duh), brief mentions of familial issues, latent insecurity, miscommunication & lack of communication, kissing, groping, SEX! mdni, seriously, i’ll THROW UP!, more specifically fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), spitting, makeup sex idk, just good old fashioned lesbian BANGING! also! jazz cabbage, lets pretend for the sake of this au that student athlete’s don’t get tested bc i NEED hockey jock!vi to hotbox reader PLS.

fic soundtrack: i could imagine —alina baraz /snooze — sza /tonight — summer walker / pressure — james vickery + sg lewis / wish that i could — umi

author’s note: of course it’d be arcane s2 that resurrects me from my almost yearlong hiatus...pls enjoy this fic even though i’m pretty rusty; she’s been cooking in the drafts for weeks T-T i’ll be answering some (very long overdue) asks and chatting with you guys <3 and finally, this shit is barely proofread bc my brain is fried lol

main masterlist | arcane masterlist

VI HAS A HUGE PROBLEM.

One that supersedes every issue she’d ever given weight to in all of her four (and a half) years of university. Is way larger than twice-a-day practices on and off the ice that go hand-in-hand with studying so hard to make sure that her grades don’t slip a fraction. Probably way bigger than the fact that her little sister’s graduating high school soon and she’s trying her absolute best to be as great a role model as she can despite wanting to crack under the pressure. And most definitely bigger than her favorite on-again-off-again fling, Cait Kiramann, who’s rare to come by these days.

Vi has a huge problem, and quite frankly, it’s you.

In hindsight, she’s been relatively good at overlooking you, not that it’d been intentional to begin with, but Vi knows a lot of people. Too many, she feels sometimes. So it's easy for you to slip through the cracks when everyone’s vying for even a shred of her attention.

Perhaps it’s what piques her interest when your orbits finally do collide. Because, admittedly, you know all about Vi. Know that she’s probably one of the most valuable players on the uni’s hockey team (she’s an absolute beast on the ice). Also know that she’s a biomedical physics major and actually incredibly smart. But most of all, you know that not only is Violet a flirt, she’s a player.

Not necessarily that you’ve ever really been on the receiving end, but mostly because her reputation precedes her and you’ve seen it all from a distance. Can't not when the decorated hockey star is such a charmer whether she intends to be or not. Vi has girls both certain and questioning stumbling for a single glance.

You often think it’s pitiful, but it’s not like it’s really your problem.

Until it is.

It all starts at The Afterparty.

Hours after a big victory in the first game of three that solidifies whether the university hockey team participates in the championships, Violet is the star of tonight’s celebration.

She’d sunk the winning shot, and for that she’s being poured shot after celebratory shot. By eleven she’s practically hammered and it’s when her teammate, Ellie, and the captain, Abby, finally show up.

The three of them together, drunk, is like a minefield of obnoxious laughter, dirty innuendos, and rowdy behavior.

And for a while it’s funny, has Vi feeling like she’s on cloud nine, but eventually, the drunken high begins to evaporate and she starts to feel a little overwhelmed.

The spotlight shifts and even though Vi typically preens under the attention, she’s grateful to finally breathe.

With a plastic cup full of water, she’s sliding the back door open and stepping out onto the back patio to take in the cool air for a breather.

She makes a move towards the stairs, but nearly jumps out of her skin when she registers the silhouette at the base of the steps.

“Jesus, fuck,” Vi hisses to herself. “You scared the shit outta me.”

You don’t even spare her a glance over your shoulder, just take a sip from your drink.

“Sorry,” you hum passively.

She catches her breath, doesn’t even bother to ask permission as she drops all of her weight next to you.

The step creaks under pure muscle.

Her strong legs stretch out, elbows settling back against the step up as she waits. And waits. And waits.

The amount of silence that lapses is unusual, uncharacteristic for Vi, especially so because people are typically babbling enough to fill the void when it comes to her.

But you just sit there, nursing your beer and staring up at the stars. The moon hangs half in the sky, softly illuminating the planes of your features.

It’s her first good look at your face and Vi’s definitely drunk, but the immediate thought that comes to her mind is pretty, pretty, pretty. Undeniably and painfully pretty. And not Caitlyn pretty, the only girl she’s ever really used as a benchmark, but intimidatingly so in your own right. Makes her swallow hard, throat bobbing as she watches you unapologetically.

“It’s rude to stare, Violet,” you say simply, eyes finally flitting to meet hers.

Her breath catches in her throat, earthy flecks dancing in your moonlit irises. God, your eyes. Framed by thick lashes and round as you look up at her.

“You know who I am?” she asks stupidly as if point fives of her face aren’t blown up into memes and plastered all over the house.

“Who doesn’t?” you ask, breathing a puff of humorless laughter as you crush the can in your ringed fingers.

And perhaps you got her there, but Vi’s feeling exceptionally small under your gaze despite usually filling out a room. Something about you makes her shrink.

“I— fuck,” Vi stumbles, cheeks red because you’re looking at her with an indecipherable gleam in your gaze that has her squirming. “What’s your name?”

She cringes at herself, rolls the piercing in her nose once, twice, for comfort.

You laugh again, a little more genuine this time because, from a distance, the athlete’s usually so suave, undeniably gorgeous and composed. Right now, the girl in front of you only ticks one of those boxes.

“________,” you offer.

She weighs the name on her tongue, decides she likes it a lot, and tries to shake off whatever this feeling you’re giving her is.

“And you go to school here?” she asks.

You nod once.

“Neuroscience, fourth year.”

“Huh, we’re in similar fields, but I’ve never seen you around,” Vi observes. Because she’s certain she’d bookmark a face like yours, absolutely no doubt about it.

“We had organic chemistry together sophomore year with Dr. Talis,” you say matter-of-factly, like you’re not blowing her mind right now. “And I’m auditing Medarda’s biometry class this semester.”

Vi’s floored.

“Wait, wait, but...” She’s trying to piece the puzzle together, but her brain’s still a little fuzzy, equal parts from the alcohol, but also because she’s caught a whiff of your perfume and you smell so sweet.

“I pop in every once in a while,” you tell her. “But I tutor in that time slot every Tuesday and Thursday, only really go when I don’t have any appointments.”

“Hold on, this is nuts,” Violet says, body easing to face you. You flinch because she doesn’t realize she’s practically yelling. “There’s no way, I definitely would’ve remembered you if that was the case.”

You hum, corners of your lips quirking as you shrug your shoulders.

“Doubt it,” you counter. “I’m nothing particularly spectacular.”

“Nothing particularly spectacular,” Vi repeats under her breath.

And under normal circumstances, she’d be flirting up a storm right now, trying to charm her way into getting you to bite, but this is one of the first semblances of normalcy she’s experienced in a while. No ulterior motives, no exaggerated kindness, no outright asking her to fuck.

Suddenly your phone lights up in your lap and you’re turning your attention to the device.

“DD duties call,” is all you say as you make a move to stand up.

No, this can’t be all she gets from you tonight. Not when she’s been narrowly missing someone like you for the past four years and you’re just now coming to light.

The dormant liquid courage bubbles and Vi’s gently grabbing your wrist to pull you to a stop.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” she asks, steely eyes liquid as she stares up at you.

You eye the scar on her lip, gaze lingering there before flitting to meet hers.

“Maybe.”

Vi decides that she needs to see you again.

You’d left her with crumbs this past Friday night and she’d spent the better part of the weekend trying (and failing) to cross paths with you again.

“Jesus, you’re down bad,” Ellie chuffs Monday morning on their walk to the campus coffee shop.

“You don’t understand,” Vi defends. “She’s so...so...”

“So?”

“Different, I dunno,” Vi sighs, fiddling with the strap of her backpack as they walk. “We didn’t even talk about much, but that was the most normal I’ve felt around someone in a while.”

Her teammate snorts.

“Probably the gayest thing I’ve heard you say,” Ellie deadpans. “She isn’t immediately trying to munch and you’re already in love. Pathetic.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Vi scoffs as they approach the coffee shop, inside packed full with half-functioning college students so early in the morning. “Trust me, if you met her, you’d—”

The words die in her throat because halle-fucking-lujah, the universe or god, or whatever has answered her every prayer this past weekend as she clocks you a few paces ahead in line.

Ellie follows her friend’s line of vision to find exactly what she’s staring at and she lets out a low whistle when her gaze finds your frame.

From a completely aesthetic standpoint, she can see why Vi’s immediately hooked.

“Hah,” she makes a noise in her throat. “Okay, so maybe it makes sense.”

Vi can’t help but stare because, if it were possible, you were far prettier under the warm lighting of the cafe’s ambiance. The curls of your hair frame your face beautifully and it’s so fucking cute how focused you are on your phone.

“Hate to break it to you, though. That girl’s way out of your league,” Ellie says like it’s common knowledge.

“Wow, way to boost my ego,” Vi mutters drily.

“Just being realistic,” Ellie argues. “If you bag her, she’s easily the hottest girl you’ve been with.”

And Vi can’t really contest that, not when the proof’s in the fucking pudding.

Her body’s moving of its own accord and before she can register her own actions, she’s mumbling quiet s’cuse me’s under her breath as she squeezes between patrons to close a bruised hand over your shoulder.

You nearly jump out of your skin, fumbling with your phone as an earbud falls out.

“Shit, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Vi says quickly.

Your gaze snaps to her, brows furrowing almost imperceptibly before your expression settles.

“Violet,” you acknowledge.

And she realizes that she didn’t really have a game plan coming up to you so abruptly. Had been so focused on actually just seeing you again, that she hadn’t thought through the rest of it.

The way you stare up at her is thoroughly disarming because she doesn’t have the shield of night or alcoholic courage to carry her through it.

“Can I help you?” you ask, but not unkindly.

“Oh, uh, I...” She chances a glance over her shoulder to find that Ellie is watching her from a few customers away, eyebrow cocked and smirk testing. She word vomits before she can think of a coherent thought. “You mentioned tutoring...the last time we talked.”

You don’t even bat an eye.

“I did.”

“You’re also auditing Medarda’s biometry class.”

“I am.”

“I’m...I’m not really doing too hot in Medarda’s right now,” Vi says, brain nearly short-circuiting and freezing up because, lie! She’s doing phenomenally in Medarda’s session and, truthfully, she’s just downright scared to ask you to hang out.

Especially when you look up at her like that.

You shift and she’s swallowing down around nothing.

“Hmm, can’t have that, can we?” you hum.

Vi could melt.

“No,” she breathes out a laugh. “Can’t.”

“You can sign up for a slot through the library’s website,” you say after you weigh the thought.

Vi’s pausing, staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“So I can get paid?” you fill in.

“Oh, right,” Vi chokes. “Right.”

You give her a soft smile before plugging your earbud back in, leaving Vi to rejoin her obviously amused friend.

“You’re fucking joking!”

The librarian gives you and your incredulous roommate a look from the circulation desk and you return it with a sheepish smile from where you’re tucked by a wall of looming floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Maddie,” you whisper.

“You’re telling me that The Violet asked you personally to tutor her?” Maddie asks you, leaned over the tabletop with wide eyes.

“Yeah, cornered me at Brew House this morning and asked me to tutor her in Medarda’s class.”

“Just that?” she asks. “Nothing else?”

You look around in disbelief.

“Uh, yeah?” you scoff. “What else would she want?”

“What else would she— are you serious?” Maddie leans back in her seat, arms crossing over her chest as she gives you a plain look. “You know all about Vi, you’re actually gonna play stupid?”

“Oh, come on.” You roll your eyes. “You’ve seen the girls Violet’s fucked, right? Kiramann? The blonde from the tennis team? She’s got a type and you know it.”

It’s Maddie’s turn to roll her eyes and you see the exasperated groan she’s staving off.

“None of that self-deprecating bullshit—”

“It’s not self-deprecating!” you argue. “Not everyone wants to fuck Violet, Maddie. Put me in the number one spot.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t start.”

“All I’m saying is that anyone with eyes can see that Vi’s hot as fuck. That being said, you’re also hot as fuck. Not only that, but rumor has it, she gives the most toe-curling—”

You’re rolling your eyes again, gaze fluttering out the window momentarily only to find that, speak of the devil, Violet’s approaching the library with a skip in her step.

Maddie stops her spiel to trace your gaze and nearly falls out of her seat when she finds the object of your conversation is advancing, fast.

“No fucking way,” you whisper to yourself, pulling up your tutoring log on your tablet to find that, yup, Violet has most-definitely taken your advice and signed up for a tutoring slot.

If the time reads correctly, you’ve got three minutes before she’s due to be taking Maddie’s seat.

Your friend is grinning at you mischievously, stuffing her backpack quickly to vacate the space across from you.

“Un-fucking-believable,” you scoff, slumping back in your seat.

“Tell me how it goes,” she giggles, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stands.

“Maddie,” you warn.

“Love you, see you at home!”

Violet’s strolling into the library just as Maddie leaves through the other doors and try as you might make yourself small in the open air near the research center, her gaze falls on you as soon as she enters.

“Hey,” she breathes once breaches your vicinity.

“Hi.”

A moment lapses before you’re nodding towards the seat before you.

“We can get started whenever you’re ready.”

Right. Right! Vi’s mentally cringing, pulling the chair out with a squeak and dropping onto the worn cushion.

Her eyes are locked, watching as you pull the biometry textbook from your little messenger bag.

“Any particular areas you’re struggling in?” you ask, flipping to a clean sheet of paper in your notepad and clicking open your pen.

Vi combs her brain, tries to think of anything she’s not really grasping in Medarda’s class, but she’s been acing all the exams with flying colors, so she spits out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Logistic regression, probably,” she answers.

“In relation to...?” You tilt your head and Vi’s breath is hitching.

“The Confusion Matrix,” she answers, even though she knows all about it.

It’s only when you start breaking it down from the bare bones that she realizes that she could listen to you talk for-probably-ever.

You obviously have a great understanding of the subject if the way you deconstruct the relationship between sensitivity and specificity (or whatever the fuck) is anything to go by, and she doesn’t realize that she hasn’t even blinked until you’re glancing up at her.

“Am I making any sense?” you ask softly, taking in the almost confused look on Violet’s face.

“Huh?”

Vi snaps out of it, cheeks coloring pink when she notes the way you straighten in your seat.

“Am I going too fast?”

“No, no!’ Vi practically shouts before chancing an embarrassed gaze around the library to find a few wandering eyes. She clears her throat and tries to relax. “No, you’re doing great. I get it.”

You don’t seem convinced, but the faster you get through the material, the faster Violet can leave and you can finally catch your breath.

Because maybe Maddie’s a little right. That while you know, one hundred percent, without-a-doubt, that you and Violet are cut from two different cloths and that you ultimately won’t mesh, there’s still a sliver of want that settles somewhere confined in the pit of your gut.

You don’t know how long you continue before you notice that sun has begun to set in the horizon, but Vi’s effort is unwavering. She’s probably on her tenth practice problem by now and so far, she’s only flubbed once.

You decide to fold your cards first.

“O-kay,” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as you roll your shoulders and squeeze your hands shut so tight your knuckles crack. “This is a good stopping point, don’t you think?”

No, Vi could keep going forever if it meant hearing you talk all night, but the little G-shock wristwatch winks the time and she realizes that the two of you have been going at it for going on two hours and you’re probably exhausted.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long,” Vi says sheepishly. “Thanks a lot for your help, I...”

You look up from where you’re shuffling your papers together, pausing when she hesitates.

“I really appreciate you. I know you probably help dozens of people every week and—”

She stops talking when she sees you crack what seems to be the first genuine smile she could get out of you since Friday.

“It’s my job, Violet,” you tell her. “I’m happy to help.”

And she’d done well enough during the tutoring session, had a successful run with the practice problems. You were confident it was just a one and done. Perhaps served as a review for the upcoming exam Medarda had posted on the class page.

But then you see her name in the final time slot on Thursday, don’t really think much of it until you’re tabbing to next week’s schedule for shits and giggles. Tuesday and Thursday are booked through again, her name highlighted in yellow.

You minimize the calendar and pull up the aggregate schedule only to find that every 4 o’clock slot every Tuesday and Thursday’s been booked until the end of the semester.

You refresh for good measure.

“Oh, you’re so shitting me.”

You don’t know what kind of joke this is, if Violet thinks that this is funny, but you’re not amused.

Especially when you’re stalking all the way to the athletic hall, ignoring the wolfish stares from shameless student athletes to whip into the women’s hockey team’s reserved conditioning space.

You find her benching near the center of the room, Abigail Anderson spotting her while the rest of the team engages in various workouts and exercises.

A hush ripples over the weight room as you approach the hockey star, standing at the end of the bench where her knees are bent. One of Abigail Anderson’s eyebrows quirk up as you stand there with your hands on your hips and you hope the chill that runs down your spine as she checks you out doesn’t visibly vibrate your body.

When the barbell nearly crushes Vi’s chest on her last rep, Abby’s quick to help her re-rack and takes the biggest step back as Vi sits up.

Her expression falls and her face pales when she locks eyes with you, your features severe and gaze stony.

“Oh, hey,” she squeaks.

Truthfully, she hadn’t really pinned you as the type to be confrontational. Thought she’d have enough time to build a strong enough story as to why she booked out all of your tutoring sessions when in actuality she panicked when Ellie started grilling the fuck out of her about being a fucking pussy and begging her to just ask you out.

“You have some explaining to do, Violet.”

And she should definitely be embarrassed, not at all turned on, but she can’t help it as she gulps. Because when you stand before her like this, she can easily admit that she’d die for a private version of the view.

The silence in the weight room is palpable and you want to back down, but if this is some running joke and Vi’s going to make a show of humiliating you in front of her teammates, then you’d give her a show.

“Violet.”

Someone in the back snickers, another whistles, and Vi’s cheeks go red.

She’s standing, sweaty hands closing around your biceps as she spins you around and quickly guides you out of the conditioning room and out of her teammates’ line of ogling sight.

“V—”

“I’m sorry,” Violet splutters. “I’m just not really confident in Medarda’s class right now and I don’t trust myself to study alone, plus you’re a really good tutor and—”

“You do realize that those tutoring sessions are added to your tuition, right?” you ask incredulously. “It’s fifteen dollars an hour.”

Vi’s smile is crooked.

“That’s what my scholarship’s for,” she grins.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?” you try again. “I feel that before an exam for a little refresh is fair, but this would be like relearning the material after every class, all over again.”

“If it’s taught by you, I’ll take it,” Vi says quickly, and you pause because what does she mean by that?

You don’t really have much rebuttal left even though you’d marched up here with a fire under your ass. Vi’s looking down at you with a softened edge in her gaze and she’s wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants and sweat-soaked grey tank that reveals swathes of ink that curls up her arms and disappears under the fabric of her shirt.

She breathes out a small laugh when she notices the way your eyes dance.

“Anymore concerns, cupcake?”

Your gaze snaps to hers and her grin widens when she sees you fidget, little pet name obviously eliciting a semblance of a reaction from you.

“N-No,” you stammer.

“Great, see you tomorrow?“

You swallow.

“Okay,” you agree. “See you tomorrow.”

Violet pops into the library at four on the dot.

Her hair’s wet from an obvious shower and you smell her, warm like honey and cedar as she takes the seat across from you.

“Afternoon, cupcake,” she greets, slinging her backpack into the seat next to her.

You give her a warning look, but she just flashes you a toothy smile and nods towards the opened biometry textbook before you.

“What’s the lesson today, Teach?”

And this feels an awful lot like mocking, but you can’t be sure, not when Vi’s been somewhat respectful, sweet even.

“What do you know about the the sigmoid function?” you probe.

“Jack shit,” she laughs.

And maybe you’d find it endearing if the entirety of the situation wasn’t still absolutely mindfucking you at moment.

“Can I ask you something, Violet?” you ask, leaning back in your seat as you cross your arms to level her with as an intimidating look as you can.

“Sure, anything.”

“Are you messing with me?” you ask. “Is this some joke you and your friends are playing? Because I can’t really think of an outcome that would be funny.”

And you’d like to say that the look of horror on Violet’s face is consolation enough, but you know how being loved and being popular can make people act sometimes.

Vi contemplates telling you the truth, that she’s too chickenshit to ask you out, that getting close to you in any other way scares the fuck out of her. That maybe getting you to tutor her will segue into some form of friendship that’ll allow her to ease her way in. And maybe she’s going about it the hard way, but maybe Vi also likes a challenge.

“No jokes, just bad at statistics,” she says weakly.

You’re silent for way longer than comfort allows before you turn your attention to the textbook and Vi’s letting out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding.

“Fine,” you give in. “Let’s talk about sigmoid function and practice some applications...”

Vi’s happy to listen, goes through your preselected practice problems with ease (and maybe fucks up a value or two here and there to really sell her need for you). But the sun’s going down again, and it’s nearing six when Vi folds her hand this time around.

It comes in the form of her stomach grumbling in the emptying library and she looks up at you in embarrassment as you crack the first smile of the evening.

“Hungry?” you ask.

“Starving,” she replies dramatically, leaning so far back in her seat, her knees bump yours under the table.

Your toes curl at the contact, heart skipping when she doesn’t make a move to reposition herself.

“Have you eaten yet?” she asks, eyes looking everywhere but yours.

“Not since breakfast,” you admit.

“You like pizza?”

“Only the good kind,” you challenge.

“Beautiful,” Vi hums, shuffling her papers into her textbook and chucking it back into her bookbag. “I know the best place.”

Valentino’s is a hole-in-the-wall right outside of campus, a short walk from the library that Violet leverages as a way to get to know you outside of being lectured about statistical curves and correlation.

“Did you grow up around here?” Vi asks once the waiter sets two glasses of water down between the two of you.

You shake your head.

“No, grew up on the east coast and decided I needed a break from my life there,” you admit easily.

It’s almost as if the facade of professionalism fades away, melting to reveal you.

Vi’s desperate for more.

“As in?”

You look at her for a moment, wonder if you should divulge because you’re not really sure if Vi would get it, but she watches you like she’s hanging onto every single word you say, so you’re spilling.

“My dad died when I was little, left me and three other siblings with my Mom,” you offer. “And I love my siblings. Love my mom. She’s been a great parent, better than great actually, but most of our family disowned me when I came out and it was easier to run away than to deal with it.”

Violet’s expression falls, a furrow settling deep between her brows.

“Wow, I’m, uh, I’m really sorry to hear that,” she says, and she sounds sincere. A long moment lapses before she’s adding, “for what it’s worth, I think that’s very brave of you.”

And you seem a little surprised at the sentiment.

“Thanks.” You smile. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

Vi could turn to goo in this dimly lit booth, stained-glass wall sconce casting a warm glow over your pretty face.

“You—” She sniffs, changes the subject because she doesn’t know if she can do this on an empty stomach. “You like pineapple on your pizza?”

“Oh yeah,” you confirm proudly. “It’s a hill I’ll die on, I’m not sorry.”

“God, marry me now.”

She doesn’t realize she says it out loud until you’re bursting into a fit of laughter on your side of the booth.

“So this is something we can agree on?” you ask, head tilting in the way that makes Vi want to grab your face and taste you.

“Oh yeah,” she parrots instead. “One hundred percent.”

Valentino’s becomes routine just as much as Vi seeing you at four every Tuesday and Thursday becomes routine. It’s always after the Thursday session (because they have a three dollar slice from 6 to close) that you and Vi cram yourselves in the same booth near the kitchen and giggle over half a Hawaiian pizza.

“...And my little sister blew up her science project in the fourth grade—”

You choke on your bite, eyes wide as Violet recalls Powder’s little mishap that sent the entire gymnasium evacuating despite the tiniest fire.

“Now she’s about graduate and start school for chemical engineering,” she says, obviously proud.

“She seems like a smart girl,” you observe, if the countless stories Violet shares with you is anything to go by.

You figure being related to someone as great as the new friend you’ve made also speaks for itself.

“The smartest,” she agrees. “I’m proud of her.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you too,” you assure her. “You’re a good big sister.”

And it’s in these moments that Vi realizes that she’s in far, far deeper than she initially gave stock. Because these past few weeks, she realizes that there’s a lot more to your big brain and your pretty face. You’re an attentive listener, way funnier than she could have anticipated, and just a lot more laid back than you let on.

That much she finds out after the two of you graduate from emailing with silly sign-offs to exchanging phone numbers and texting. It starts off rather irregular, a coffee order here and there, maybe a TikTok that Vi swears is funny, you just have to watch it all the way through! But then she starts texting you when she’s bored, when she’s in class, before practice, after. Even pops the question that’s been niggling at her since she met you: on a scale from 1 - 10 how down are you to smoke?

Like cigarettes?

no, weed, dummy.

Oh. Hmm. 7. 10 if I’m drunk.

She could not wipe the smile from her face even if she tried.

And then she gets the invite.

Ellie swears it’s her in.

“Jesus Christ if you even consider me a friend, you’ll bang,” Ellie calls from the couch.

“It’s just tutoring,“ Vi argues.

“Yeah, at her place,” she scoffs. “At least test the waters, maybe cop a feel.”

“You’re a pig,” Vi snorts, making sure her laptop and all of the worksheets Medarda’s assigned over the course of the week is in her backpack.

“You’ve been wet dreaming over this girl for months.”

“Fuck all the way off.” Vi’s face warms because her best friend isn’t necessarily wrong.

You’re too hot for your own good, but you don’t even know it and Vi thinks she could die sometimes. Especially when you wear your favorite pair of jeans, the ones that hug the swell of your ass just right. Or swipe on that shimmery lipgloss she swears makes your mouth look edible.

If you were willing, Vi would be all over you, but thinking about taking advantage of the fact that you trust her enough to invite her into your space feels a little grimy.

“Whatever, bang, don’t bang,” Ellie says nonchalantly. “Blueball yourself for all I care.”

Vi rolls her eyes, slings her bag over her shoulder before sliding on her shoes and leaving her friend on the couch with a resounding click.

You live off-campus, maybe a ten minute drive, in a cozy little complex near the suburbs. Your roommate, Maddie, a chipper blonde with a bob, is all too eager to leave when Vi arrives.

“Hi, sorry we couldn’t meet anywhere else,” you apologize as you let her into your space. “Even if the library wasn’t closed, the vet said I have to monitor Pip for the next 48 hours.”

Vi raises a brow.

“My cat,” you clarify.

“Oh.” Vi doesn’t know why she suddenly feels like she’s intruding as she hesitantly toes off her shoes and follows you down the hall.

But she does take the opportunity to take you in in all your glory; all cozy and cuddly in an oversized sweatshirt, plaid pajama shorts and mismatched egg socks.

Cute. So fucking cute.

You spare her a glance over your shoulder and she’s clearing her throat.

“We don’t have to have a session tonight," she says, stopping at the threshold of the living room. “I would’ve understood if you had to cancel.”

You shake your head, give her a soft smile that has her knees feel like jelly.

“S’okay,” you assure her. “A promise is a promise.”

And you do start off studying, shoulder to shoulder in front of your coffee table, but then Pip crawls from his little hiding spot under the TV console to curiously nose along Vi’s feet and she’s a goner.

“He’s so sweet,” she practically wails as he paws at her thigh and nudges against her arm so that he can climb into her lap.

You warm at the sight, can’t help but snap a picture, much to Violet’s dismay.

“Stop,” she laughs. “That picture can’t see the light of day.”

“Why?” you whine, making a show of climbing onto your wooden coffee table to get a funny top down photo of the hockey star with your cat. “You and Pip look so cute together.”

She feigns a scowl even though her shoulders shake with laughter.

“I have a bad boy image to uphold, sweetheart.”

You snort, reach into her lap to scratch behind Pip’s ear, and her heart melts, body warm from her ears to her toes.

“Is he sick?” she asks cautiously, petting him softly.

“Just a little,” you say. “Something some rest and medicine won’t fix.”

It’s how the two of you end up on the couch, study materials long forgotten as Animal Planet plays in the background. Pip’s moved to lounge atop the covers draped over your lap and you’re blowing your nose into a tissue as an especially sad segment about baby animals being rejected by their mothers finishes.

Vi knows she shouldn’t laugh, but you’re too fucking cute and she can’t help but coo at you.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” you hiccup.

“What, that you’re a big soft baby?” she teases.

“Vi,” you whimper.

And something in her brain tickles because she can’t recall a time you’d ever called her by her nickname, only ever referred to her as Violet and nothing else.

She resists a smile.

“Okay, okay,” she gives in. “Lets change the subject.”

You make a noise of agreement as you cuddle your sleepy Pip.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she says, arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers a hairsbreadth from your figure.

Test the waters, cop a feel.

Vi’s not particularly into the idea, but the opportunity’s right there in the way wisps of your hair falls from its hold. Her fingers move of their own device, tucking the strands behind your ear.

She feels you still for the slightest, most imperceptible of moments, but then you’re relaxing, letting her fingers brush from your ear down to your shoulder, then back to where it rests on the back of the couch.

“You doing anything on Saturday?” she asks, really hopes you’ll say no.

“Not that I know of,” you say without second thought.

Not that you really need to. Your tight circle of friends are all alike, tethered to their hobbies and their homes.

“I have a game on Saturday,” Vi starts, fiddling with a little hole in the cushion. “If you wanted to come.”

You don’t agree or disagree immediately, and Vi’s scrambling to soothe over any potential discomfort.

“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna, of course,” she says quickly. “I just— I thought you might be interested in going and I’d really like to see you there and—”

A small little laugh puffs from your lips.

“Of course I’ll go,” you agree easily.

Vi deflates in relief.

“Great,” she sighs. “Awesome.”

Vi doesn’t know why she invites you. More so, she doesn’t know why she tells her teammates that she’s invited you because now they’re whooping and hollering in the locker room, towel-whipping her and sing-songing that their star player’s gonna get laid.

Doesn’t know why she invites you because as soon as she glides on the ice, she’s searching the stands high and low for your familiar figure. When she clocks you nestled in the middle with your roommate and another friend she vaguely recognizes, her heart’s soaring and her stomach’s twisting in knots.

Vi’s never nervous, but somehow you bring out the worst of it.

It only takes a few moments, though. The blare of the horn snaps her back into her zone and she leaves all the noise off-rink. In this moment, all she knows is cutting ice, dodging the other team’s most aggressive players and sinking shot after shot.

It’s nearing the end of the second period when she finally glances at the score.

5—4.

The opposing team’s giving them a run for their money and this is probably one of the tightest matches they’ve played all season. She takes a moment to find you in the stands again, and you’re right where she left you, eyes already glued to her as you hover over the edge of your seat.

She hadn’t realized it before, but you’ve got her number painted on her face and another surge of warmth layers over the exertion.

You give her a thumbs up and she feels like lightning.

They reset and she’s off, like a streak of light in the night sky, she’s shuffling the puck towards the goal.

Then you see the navy uniform barreling towards her, voice caught in your throat as Vi gives the puck one last shot before that damned Jersey Number Six shoves her so hard, she’s flinging into the rink’s wall.

The horn chugs, signaling the end of the second period and the stands erupt in a ceremonious cheer as the playback reveals that Vi had sunk the puck before time.

“Fuck yeah!” you cry out, shooting to your feet to clap your hands.

Vi ignores the instigating chants to fight, only really pays attention to your little dance of excitement as she shakes off the other player and rejoins her team for intermission.

“Fuck, Vi, you got it bad, huh?” Abigail Anderson’s spearheading the teasing once they all return to the locker room at the end of the game.

Vi’s body heats at the thought, isn’t really in the business of denying it anymore, because, you know what? Yeah. Vi’s got it so fucking bad for you, she doesn’t even know what to do with herself. You’re her first thought, her final prayer, and everything in between.

So all she does he shrug, can’t help the grin that splits her lips as she rubs her towel through her sweat-damp hair.

She’s the first one out of the locker room, dressed in some sweats and a pullover, towel slung around her neck as she steps into the tunnel. Your contact’s pulled up, and she’s ready to fire off a text asking where you want her to meet you, but she stops short to see you already leaned outside of the change room’s doors.

“Hey, cupcake,” she murmurs, smiling hard when she finds the smudged number 5 still chalked on your face.

“Hi, Violet,” you return shyly, hands clasped behind your back.

She hears the telltale whoosh of the locker room doors, the chattering of her teammates as they poke their heads out into the hall to be nosy, but she’s guiding you along, throwing a wink over her shoulder as the two of you fall into step.

“Thank you for coming,” Vi says after a moment. “You being here really meant a lot to me.”

You don’t know if Vi’s always been this sentimental, but just never given the opportunity to showcase it, or if she’s just buttering you up, but you can’t help but beam at her with pearly teeth and dimpled cheeks.

“God, Violet, you were so good!” you say excitedly, a little skip in your step. “You were in the rink, skating circles around them, like this, and like this.”

She bursts into laughter as you start speeding down the tunnel, dodging garbage bins and jumping up into the air to click your heels.

Something falls out of your little fannypack when you land, and Vi’s crouching down to pick up the tulle baggie to find a little beaded bracelet with a gold clasp that reads puck off.

“What’s this?” Vi asks, and you stop your shenanigans to turn your attention to her.

When your expression falters and you’re running back to her at full speed, she’s holding the baggie up just a little too out of reach for you, grin smug.

“Is this for me, sweetheart?” she asks presumptuously, even though her heart’s thrumming hard in her ribcage.

You’re on your tiptoes, chest pressed against hers, and god, please! is all Vi can think when your head tilts up, a little defeated knit between your eyebrows.

She milks the fuck out of whatever this is, arm banding around your waist as she returns the baggie to you.

“Maybe,” you whisper finally.

“Maybe what?” Vi teases.

“Maybe it’s for you,” you respond, free hand coming to rest on her chest.

“And what do I have to do to get it?” she asks, voice low.

It makes your body jolt hard as a shiver slinks down your spine because there she is, the insufferable flirt who knows exactly what to say to have your brain turn to mush.

You seem like you’re contemplating for a moment and Vi’s breath is hitching in her throat, wondering if you’re willing to play this cat and mouse game with her.

You smile, something glinting in your warm eyes.

“Puck off.”

Your giggle is maniacal as you slip away, leaving her temporarily stunned before she chases you down the tunnel. And she should expect your speed, especially because you’ve got legs, but it takes her a moment to catch up with you when her practice bag’s thumping on her back like that. Her calloused fingers are closing around the flesh of your hips in no time and she’s pulling you back into her arms.

“Cough it up, sweetheart,” she huffs.

You whine.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you counter.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

And you give in because Violet’s made you weak. She’s holding out her wrist as you free the multi-colored bracelet.

You barely clasp the closure in the ring before Violet’s stumbling into you, a big burly girl from the other team shoulder checking the fuck out of her.

“Nice job standing in the middle of the walk way,” she bites.

Violet only snorts a laugh.

“Whatever, good game,” she calls.

Whoever she is, stops, levels Vi with a deadly look before her gaze flits to the bracelet you’ve just fixed around her wrist to you who stands frozen into place as the tension crackles between them.

“Cute,” she observes and your skin prickles. “Let me take her for a spin?”

“Violet,” you warn when her shoulders square and she takes a step forward.

She looks torn between walking away and beating the shit out of whoever this instigator is, but one of her teammates is shoving her along.

“Leave it.”

Whatever that was shatters the moment between the two of you and Vi’s taking in a deep breath as Abby trails behind the two of you.

The girl whistles for good measure and you throw a dirty look over your shoulder.

She winks.

You’ve still yet to find out who hosts these parties, but this time around gives you a weird sense of deja vu as you climb the steps with Maddie in tow.

You and Vi had parted ways at the rink, not before extending you an invite to the celebration later in the evening.

You should come, I can pick you up.

But per usual, DD duties call, and you’d smiled up at her despite the lingering pressure from the prior confrontation and promised her that yes, you’d absolutely be there.

Maddie squeals from the step below as you climb the front porch, breaths coming out in puffs of steam.

“You look so hot,” she says excitedly.

You giggle nervously, sure hope you do because you’re freezing your ass off!

“Yeah?”

Maddie gives you an incredulous look, eyelids powdered with glitter and gaze lined charcoal. She’s looking extra cute tonight too and you know that the two of you could fall into an endless cycle of teasing because a certain someone’s probably inside tonight.

“If she doesn’t fuck you before the night ends, I will,” Maddie teases, and you’re warming unceremoniously at the thought.

Because maybe you’ve been thinking about it a lot more recently despite only going into this trying to get through these tutoring sessions and dipping. Especially as of late now that Vi’s made it a habit to FaceTime you after practice, on your walk to the library, dripping sweat and chest heaving.

You’d always seen the appeal, but now you feel it.

You smooth down your asymmetrical skirt and Maddie steps up to adjust your tits in your lowcut lace blouse just as the door swings open to reveal none other than Violet.

“Oh—” Her voice catches as she takes you in.

Maddie gives your ass a little swat and Vi’s gaze is following the movement as your roommate pushes past her to slip inside.

“I was— I was just about to step out. To, uh, to call you,” she stammers.

You breath out a little laugh.

“Here I am.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Here you are.”

Jesus, fuck Vi could burst into flames right now. Your boots hug your thighs and Violet’s not gonna lie, she really wishes it were her head squeezed between—

“You look...” Hot, so fucking edible, downright fuck— “...really nice.”

You smile, but you can’t help the way your teeth chatters.

“Fuck, shit, you’re probably cold,” she curses, warm hands closing around your shoulders to pull you inside. “Why didn’t you wear a jacket? You’re gonna get sick.”

I wanted you to want me.

“Guess I just forgot,” you say quietly.

She looks like she wants to scold you, but instead, she’s pulling down her coat, a big black work jacket, hanging from the banister of the stairs around your shoulders and you’re relishing the residual warmth that lingers there and her familiar scent.

“Can I get you a cider?” she asks. “It’s still warm.”

It hits you as her fingers curl through yours, that Vi’s truly nothing like what you initially thought. She’s sweet, and she’s respectful, and she’s everything you could ever hope for.

You freeze at the thought, and Vi’s glancing at you when she’s tugged to a stop.

“You okay?” she hums.

Your eyes search her face, gliding over the scar on her lip and the one slit through her eyebrow. The gold hoop pierced through her nose glints under the lowlight and her thick lashes flutter as she looks down at you.

You give her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes because wow, you’re in deep.

“I’m okay,” you assure her, give her fingers a squeeze for good measure.

When she finally secures you a mug of steaming cider, she’s guiding you to her group of friends that occupy the living room.

You only recognize Ellie, her best friend and her roommate, and Abby, the captain. Everyone else is a jumbled mix of names and faces and you stick close to Vi as she settles into the left corner of the couch.

You make a move to sit on the armrest, legs crossed and hands folded around your mug, but Vi’s spreading her legs and pulling you into her lap before you can effectively protest.

Her warmth immediately engulfs you and it takes every ounce of self control not to curl up into a ball in front of all her friends and classmates.

As they recap the game and catch up with each other, you remain hushed, eyes flitting from person to person as they speak. Toes curling whenever Violet’s voice vibrates in her chest as she talks big about sports and the hot teams this season.

You’re caught off caught when Ellie’s directing a question towards you and you barely register.

“What do you like to do?” she asks you.

All eyes audibly shift to where you’re cozied up in Vi’s lap, cider empty and abandoned on the side table.

“Uh.”

Your words are lodged in your throat because you’re so used to talking Vi’s ear off about your interests (namely, Animal Planet and your son Pip), showing her your little craft projects you like to do in front of the television on a weekend evening (you’d taken a break from the scarf / hat combo you were knitting to finish the bracelet you designed for Vi), and yapping about some obscure film you’d watched while finishing said projects.

But here, now, you don’t know what to say. Not when this isn’t your typical crowd and you don’t know what to expect from her friends.

Vi must feel your hesitation because her digits are slipping into her jacket, fingertips ghosting the small of your back as she presses a palm against your spine to smooth the tension there.

It’s okay, is a silent insinuation.

You give her a look from the corner of your eye before you turn your attention back to Ellie.

“I don’t do much,” you offer honestly. “Just starting my old cat lady duties early, I suppose.”

Ellie laughs benevolently.

“You have a cat?”

“Yes, his name’s Pip, and he’s basically my kid.”

“Cute,” Ellie coos. “You got any pictures?”

And you seem to light up, spare Vi one more glance as you dig in her coat pocket to produce your cellphone, charms jangling as you power it back on to show Ellie the lockscreen.

“I contemplated naming him Toothless from—”

“—How To Train Your Dragon!” Abby fills in from across the couch. “That’s such a good ass movie.”

It warms Vi to the bone, seeing you and her friends nerd out. Seeing them put in the effort because they know she likes you and seeing you reciprocate because, well, you’re you, and you just need a little warming up.

She doesn’t know how long you and her friends chat for until you’re shifting a little and turning your attention back to her.

“Can you show me the bathroom, please?”

Her gaze flits to her circle, and they’re smirking, obviously under the impression that this must be some sort of code the two of you concocted.

She ignores them, and most importantly she ignores the way her pulse jumps when you stand from your seat and perch between her legs, offering both of your neatly manicured hands to her.

This is getting fucking ridiculous.

The bathroom is tucked under the stairs near the front of the house and she stands post outside the door as you finish up.

It’s only when you’re poking your head outside the door sheepishly that she stands up straight.

“Can you help me with my zipper?” you ask timidly.

She puffs a laugh, slips in through the space you crack for her to find you holding the two sides of your skirt together.

And she knows she shouldn’t look, but the space allows her to see the pink lace of your panties. She’s shoving her tongue in her cheek, focusing on lining up the seams and pulling up your zipper as you hold the fabric taut.

“Thanks,” you whisper, looking up to see that Vi’s impossibly close to you in this cramped little powder room.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” she croaks, leaning against the counter as you wash your hands.

She thumbs the hem of your skirt absently.

“I like this,” she admits, gaze trailing up to meet yours. “You look pretty.”

Your ears burn, unable to meet the smolder of her steely eyes. You’d probably find that her pupils are blown wide if you did. Instead, you’re watching her mouth, lips stained cherry and tongue coming out to wet the dry patch.

You hold your breath as you reach across her for the hand towel, but her hands find your hips, teetering into dangerous territory as she moves almost close enough to slip her hands under your skirt.

“You’re not gonna say thank you?” she asks, watching you through hooded eyes.

A nervous giggle bubbles.

“Thanks, Violet,” you murmur.

“‘Course,” she agrees easily. “You gonna wear it again?”

You bite.

“If you ask nicely.”

She licks her lips again, body flexed as you allow her to press you closer. One of your hands splays on the counter behind her, the other brushing over the blooming bruise on her jaw.

“Can I?” she husks.

You don’t need to ask for clarification, not when her nose is nudging yours and your breaths are mingling.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Pl—”

The door rattles with the ferocity of whoever’s knocking on the other side.

“Hurry up in there, I gotta piss!”

To your dismay, the two of you don’t talk about Saturday night. And things’s aren’t particularly bad, but something’s definitely shifted and it’s driving you nuts.

Vi’s on the ice practicing the following morning and after classes on Monday, so you wait for your session with bated breath on Tuesday. You try extra hard despite every voice of reason telling you that you’re reading into it too much.

Vi smiles at you easily as she drops into the seat across from you, pulling out her biometry textbook without so much as a peep about the fact that the two of you almost kissed in whoever the fuck’s bathroom that was over the weekend.

You’re staring, hard.

Because that familiar feeling’s coming back. The seedling of doubt that had rooted in the beginning about Vi’s intentions with you. She’d done a good job of weeding it out over the weeks, of dismantling whatever image you’d built of her in your head, but it plants itself again.

She’s squeezing your hand across the table and your gaze flits down to her rough fingers. That’s when you notice it, the bracelet, still fastened where you clasped it on game night.

You relax a fraction.

“Everything okay?”

You smile, something small.

“Yeah, good,” you assure her.

The rest of your tutoring session is uneventful, goes off without a hitch. And you’re shameless in admitting that you hate to see her go as she walks you to your car in the student lot near the library.

You’re grasping at straws, clearing your throat before she closes your door for you.

“Uh,” you squeak. “Do you want to come over?”

Vi’s pausing, hand still on the edge of your door as her lips twitch.

“Like right now?”

You nod because you’ve already pulled the trigger.

“Like right now,” you confirm.

She checks her wristwatch, sighs heavily because fuck yes, she’d love to come over right now, but Anderson and Williams are expecting her for a strategy meeting with the coach and—

“Sorry,” you say quickly. “You don’t have to, I know we only really—”

She pinches your cheek before tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

“I can’t tonight, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” she says. “But tell you what, if you’re willing to free up your Friday night, I’d really like to plan something.”

Your heartbeat skips.

“All yours,” you say without missing a beat.

Vi’s grinning wide.

“Perfect, drive safe,” she bids. “See you tomorrow.”

And you don’t know why you’re so fucking high strung, not when Vi hasn’t done anything to make you doubt that this isn’t all in your head, but it only gets worse as the days go by.

It doesn’t come to a head until Thursday, when your tutoring slots are miraculously empty until Vi’s and you receive an email from Medarda to meet in her office after her string of lectures.

“Afternoon,” the older woman greets, smiling warmly at you as she lets you into her office. “Just wanted to check in with your audit and request any feedback you have.”

You think for a moment before shaking your head.

“Nothing in particular that I can think of,” you say easily, then add with a laugh, “feel like I’ll be a professional by the end of the semester.”

“Why do you say that?” Medarda chuckles as she logs into her computer.

“I have a student sitting every Tuesday and Thursday for tutoring in your class,” you reveal.

She gives you look crossed between surprise and amusement.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You giggle at the distant memory of Vi’s expression in the weight room. “She seems to be picking it up well enough, though.”

“Huh, every Tuesday and Thursday?” she asks, fingers flying over her keyboard. “I must be doing something wrong.”

“I’d hardly say that,” you say. “When Violet booked all my sessions, I thought it was a joke, but I think she’s just really dedicated to doing well.”

“Violet?” Medarda repeats, hands stilling over her mouse.

“Yeah, Violet, on the women’s hockey team?”

Your professor’s eyebrows twitch.

“Why would you— huh. Weird,” she comments.

“I admit it was a little strange, but—”

“Violet’s a consistent top scorer on the exams,” Medarda shares. “She’s been top of the class since the beginning of the semester.”

And it’s like the world stills as she reveals that information, fragile pieces shattering as the gears start turning in your brain and you try to put the puzzle together.

You glance at the clock, find that you’re due to meet Violet in half an hour.

“Uh, if you’ll excuse me,” you say politely, try to ignore the concerned expression etched on your professor’s face at your sudden departure. “It was nice chatting with you. If I think of anything feedback-wise, I’ll be sure to email you.”

And you’re running.

Vi’s in the locker room after practice, toweling off after an extra long shower because she’s been looking a little extra forward to seeing you today, but perhaps that’s everyday as of late.

She’s hooking the bracelet you gave her back on when her phone vibrates and she’s practically diving into her locker when your text tone bleats.

sweetheart: I have to cancel your session this afternoon. I’m sorry.

Her expression screws up.

everything ok? can i do anything for you?

sweetheart: Personal things to take care of. I’ll see you next week.

I’ll see you next week.

But what about tomorrow? She’d been working so fucking hard on tomorrow, on finally pulling her head far enough out of her ass to ask you to give the two of you a shot.

She sets her phone down, slumps down on the bench as she turns her wrist and takes in the smooth glass beads of the bracelet.

She sighs. Hard.

You hole up all weekend long, put your phone on do not disturb, and try your best to get whatever this is out of your system. But you’re a slave to your emotions and you can’t help but check your messages every time you know Vi’s free.

It’s a single text on a Saturday night, one that surprises you because you know she has practice now that the big game’s fast approaching.

violet <3: hey sweetheart, just checking in. i know you said you had a few personal things going on, but i’m here if you feel like you need someone <3

You’re texting back before your better judgement can stop you.

Just been a little stressed. You wanna come over?

.

.

.

Then you add, We can smoke.

Vi’s sending you three running emojis and you crack a smile at your screen before realizing that you need to shower.

You lay out some clothes beforehand, ultimately settling on last Saturday’s skirt.

Vi’s giggling as you fumble with the wrapper, rolling it with clumsy fingers because, truthfully, you don’t do this often, but she shuts right up when you don’t break eye contact as the tip of your tongue slides across the seam to seal the joint.

She’d picked you up with a Sprite and a slice to split from Valentino’s, throat drying as you bounded down the stairs in the same fucking skirt that had her touching herself after she’d gotten home from the party, guilty and wound tight. Now the two of you are tucked away behind some abandoned strip.

“Ready?” Her voice rasps as you pop the end between your lips and she brings the lighter to ignite the end for you.

It burns as you inhale and Vi’s thighs squeeze together involuntarily. She’d smoked with you twice before, both times on the roof of your apartment building and at a reasonable distance. But now, she knows what your body feels like, almost knows what your lips taste like.

You take a few more puffs before offering it to her and the smoke begins to plume to fill the space of her little coupe. It’s moments like these, tucked away from prying eyes, that it’s just you and Vi.

Not Vi, the supposed womanizing hockey star, or you, the nerdy homebody tutor. Just the two of you, two souls trying to get through university and carve your paths.

“I aced Medarda’s exam this week,” Vi says softly, jay pinched between her fingers as she watches you with lowering eyes.

“Oh, yeah? I wonder why,” you quip in return, face impossibly close to hers despite the console between you.

“I have a smartypants tutor that does an especially good job when she’s motivated,” she answers.

Your cheeks flame, but you don’t back down. Vi’s been extra good at pushing your buttons and flirting hard as of late, and maybe you’re a little more than willing to receive and reciprocate, but the two of you have been toeing the line, yet neither of you have taken the leap.

This moment, however, feels like it could be it. Like you’re going to find out what the fuck all of this even is.

“I have to meet this tutor of yours,” you play along. “She sounds like a miracle worker.”

“Among other things,” Vi teases, sucking in the smoke and blowing it through her nostrils.

“Like?”

“She’s also funny as fuck,” she hums. “A big baby when we watch Animal Planet.”

You narrow your eyes at her and Vi lets out a little laugh that makes your toes curl.

“Uh-huh?”

“She’s really fucking pretty too,” she says quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Kind of pretty that makes you wanna do bad, bad things.”

You smile falters as a shiver rips down your spine and before you know it, Vi’s putting out the joint before climbing in the cramped backseat of her car to spread her legs.

Doesn’t even give you a moment to process before she’s pulling you on top of her and allowing you to settle comfortably in her lap. Her hands run up your thighs and disappear under your skirt to grab the fat of your ass.

You breathe out a little giggle as your slender fingers come up to cup her jaw.

“Think my tutor’ll be mad at me?” Vi murmurs, nose brushing yours. “‘Cuz I really, really wanna kiss this pretty girl in my lap right now.”

You let out a broken little sigh when her hips buck.

“Maybe she’ll forgive you,” you whisper. “I know I would.”

And that’s all the affirmation Vi needs from you before she’s taking the plunge and slotting her lips with yours; kissing you with so much fervor, you’d think she needs you to breathe. She tastes like mint and weed and you can’t get enough.

Vi’s all-consuming, her kiss a delicious mix of teeth and tongue. And, god, her hands. Rough and calloused, but gentle in the way she explores your body. It isn’t until she’s snapping the band of your thong and her fingertips ghost the seam of your sticky heat that you’re hyper-focusing.

“Mmmph, Violet, Vi—” Your voice cracks as she breaks from your lips to map a series of kisses from your jaw, to the juncture behind your ear, down the column of your neck. “Wait.”

She stops, hands pulling from under your skirt like you’ve burned her. And perhaps you have, branded nearly every part of her because she can’t really think of a sound moment if you’re not there.

“Sorry, sorry,” she shudders as the arousal ebbs through her tightened body. “I—”

I’m caught up. I’m losing it, and it’s all your fault, and—

“Violet,” you swallow, fingers toying with the collar of her varsity sweatshirt. “I have something to say.”

Her throat bobs and her grey eyes gleam like ash in the lowlight of the backseat of her car. The windows are smoked out and it’s exceptionally warm, equal parts sexual tension and another thing Vi can’t quite pinpoint.

“Yeah, anything,” she assures you, hands resting on your waist instead. “You can tell me anything.”

One of your palms settles over her chest, right where her heart is and you suck in a sharp breath.

“I— uh, I really like you, Violet,” you admit quietly. “A lot more than I think I’ve ever liked someone in a long, long time.”

Oh.

Oh. Here it comes, the big fat rejection. The coming to your senses.

“But?”

The look on your face is devastating and Vi’s scared.

“I have to know that if I give you a chance, you won’t abuse it,” you hiccup, and wow, that’s definitely not what she expects you to say, but fuck does it leave a sour taste in her mouth.

“Abuse it?” she repeats, face crumpling.

“Violet,” you sigh.

“Abuse what?” she husks.

“I know you—”

“Do you?” she scoffs, a wave of irritation washing over her as she looks you with disappointment. “What gave you the idea that I would ever even dream of taking advantage of you giving me a chance?”

“You don’t necessarily have a spotless record, Violet,” you say, voice edged. “And I know that I’m not your usual—”

“Not my usual what?” The venom in Vi’s tone is uncharacteristic, but this is not at all how she expected tonight to go and she’s frustrated. “Not my usual type? You internalized all this shit that people say about me even though I’ve been trying to get you to see me for months.”

Emotion clogs your throat because a small part of you knows that Vi’s right. She’s never given you an outright reason to doubt her interest in you, but it all just seems too good to be true.

“Sue me for wanting to protect myself,” you choke, climbing out of her lap and back into the front seat. “Especially because I know that you don’t actually need help in Medarda’s class.”

And that catches Vi off guard. You see as much in the rearview mirror when she pales.

She clambers back into the driver’s seat.

“Who told you that?” she asks, not even bothering to deny the fact.

“I mentioned that I was tutoring you in passing when Medarda asked for feedback on her class,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “She asked why I’d be doing that when you’re top of all her sections.”

Violet’s voice is stuck in her chest.

“And then your past hook ups parade around campus like a reminder that—,” you cut yourself off, obviously hurt after bottling this all up. “And it isn’t any of my business, nor are we anything enough for me to plausibly upset—”

“Yes, I lied,” Vi admits quietly. “But only about one thing.”

Your breath catches.

“You’re right, I don’t need help in Medarda’s class. I lied about being clueless and I signed up for tutoring even though I didn’t need it,” she says.

“Why?”

“You know why,” Vi huffs. “From the moment I met you, I knew.”

It’s a glaring insinuation that makes you crack.

“No one ever says it out loud, but I know what everyone thinks,” you choke. “Violet’s fucking that loser?”

“You really believe that?”

“God, Violet, I don’t know what to fucking believe,” you cry out. “My life’s fucking fine and dandy and then you show up and make me fucking question everything I—”

Vi lets out a humorless laugh, can’t even look at you and it could make you sick.

“You’re so fucking loved by everyone, even those who won’t admit it,” you croak. “And you’re incredible at everything you do, turn everything you touch to gold, and I’m just...”

Vi’s brows furrow.

“You’re what?”

“I’m me,” you whisper meekly. “I’m just me and you’re you, and I just don’t see what makes me so different.”

And Vi realizes that she’d read it all wrong.

“Look at me,” she says softly, fingers tracing your jaw.

You knuckle your tears away, make a petulant noise in your throat.

“You wanna know why I booked all your stupid tutoring sessions?” she huffs. “Because I really fucking like you, ________. And it’s beyond wanting to fuck you even though god knows I’d fucking die if you let me. It’s so much more than having you physically. Because I’ll take being just friends with you if it means having you around. I don’t give a shit about anything else but you.”

It’s the most sound declaration you hear from the girl in the semester you’ve known her and it makes you cry.

“You make me feel so fucking normal and you remind me that I don’t need to be anything else but me,” she breathes. “And I get where you’re coming from, I hear you. I just really hope you hear me too.”

“I do,” you whisper. “I’m just—”

Vi squeezes your thigh, takes your hand in hers and brings your knuckles to her lips.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” she offers gently.

Vi only has one more game before the championships and she won’t lie and say that this limbo with you has her feeling like she’s going to be ill.

You’d cancelled her tutoring sessions this week, told her that maybe the two of you needed to spend some time apart and that she was clearly doing a number on you. So she agrees, tries to give you space to work through what’s weighing on you.

sweetheart: Good luck at your game tonight, Violet. I’m rooting for you.

She really wishes you’d be there, but she knows you need the time alone.

thanks, sweetheart. i appreciate you.

“Alright Vi, we have fifteen til puck drop,” Ellie says carefully, has been front row to everything transpiring between you and her best friend.

Vi tucks her phone away in her backpack, unhooks your bracelet from around her wrist and fastens it to the handle of her bag, and grabs her stick from the rack before she lets her teammates jostle her into the tunnel.

And she wishes she could lock in, clear her head and get into the game, but all she can think about is you.

It’s a narrow victory once the game ends, but she can’t find it in herself to celebrate, especially not at the kickback afterwards because fucking Sev and her assholes are there.

“Where’s your little dime piece?” she taunts.

“Fuck off,” Vi warns, obviously not in the mood.

“Shame,” she whistles. “She looks like a fucking weirdo, but she sure does have a fat ass—”

Ellie’s fist cracks so hard across her jaw.

“She told you to fuck off,” she hisses.

Sev spits the blood in her mouth on the toe of Ellie’s shoe, fists bunching the collar of her sweater.

“Keep that fucking energy on the ice because I’m gonna wipe the floor with your fucking pissbaby team.”

You wake up on Monday morning to a text from Vi and a handful of notifications from Instagram.

violet <3: can i see you this week?

You open Instagram.

sev.94 has requested to follow you! sev.94 has sent you a message request!

Your brows furrow, opening the message request hesitantly. There’s a few DMs and a video from this Sev person.

sev.94 hey pretty, sorry to text you like this. sev.94 just thought you should know the kind of person your little girlfriend is sev.94 sent a video. sev.94 i don’t really do relationships, but i’d take your mind off of it if you let me.

You’re playing the video, quality grainy and audio blasted. You don’t know what you’re looking at at first, it’s dark, and there’s so many voices. But you see skin, see the outline of a girl’s naked back, delicate and arched in pleasure.

You think this Sev person’s just fucking with you, playing some stupid joke with a shitty punchline as someone’s hands snake around to palm the flesh of the unnamed girl’s ass, but then you see it.

The bracelet.

Vi going to lose her shit for two reasons.

(1) Because you haven’t responded to her message despite your read receipts being on, and (2) she can’t fucking find the bracelet you’d gifted to her.

She’s barging into Ellie’s room, shirtless and hair dripping.

“Jesus, fuck, do you knock?” Ellie hisses, buds she was in the midst of grinding scattering across the floor.

“I can’t find the bracelet she gave me,” Vi says quickly.

Ellie’s face scrunches.

“Huh?”

“The bracelet ________ gave to me,” Vi says. “I hooked it on my backpack before practice on Saturday but it’s not there anymore.”

Ellie’s expression morphs, eyes narrowing in thought.

“Maybe you misplaced it,” Ellie offers. “Regardless, we practice tonight, I’ll help you look for it.”

Vi’s chest is tight, doesn’t want to admit that the stupid little bracelet means way more to her than she lets on. She only ever takes it off when she’s on the ice, won’t risk losing it when she’s got a target on her back and everyone plays rough.

It turns out to be futile when they enter the rink and she retraces her steps only to come up empty-handed.

This, she realizes, is the start of a very long week.

You should’ve seen it coming, really. Don’t know why you tried to psyche yourself into thinking that Vi could ever really want something with you when the world’s her fucking oyster and she can have anything she wants.

And you want to feel bad when she texts you intermittently through the days, checking in, offering to meet you, anything. But part of you is angry, unforgiving, tired.

You could’ve gone the rest of the school year unscathed if she’d just left you the fuck alone, but she pried and she tugged and she settled, and she made a home inside of you and you hate that you let her.

xxxx: i really miss you.

You block her number, block her social media, and even though finals are imminent, you now know that Vi’s been playing you for a fool this whole time and you cancel every last one of the sessions she’s booked.

You hope she’d get the message, figure that you’d caught onto her little game and aren’t willing to play anymore, but she doesn’t, that much is clear when you’re finishing up your two thirty session and find her stalking into the library just as the student leaves your table.

“Are we going to talk like adults or are you going to keep acting like—”

You don’t entertain a response, just pack your bag and sling the strap over your shoulder because the tears are bubbling and you don’t trust yourself not to break.

“Seriously?” Vi bites, hot on your heels as you throw all of your weight against the library doors and suck in the icy air.

“Leave me alone, Violet,” you warn.

“No, fuck that,” Vi spits, hand closing around your bicep. “You don’t— You don’t get to make me fall for you and then try to leave with no explanation.”

“Fuck you,” you whisper.

“What?”

“Fuck you, Violet,” you hiccup, yanking your arm from her grasp and putting as much distance as you can between the two of you. “I hope you and your friends got a good laugh out of it.”

Her face is screwing up and if she wasn’t confused before, she’s definitely confused now.

“Listen, I can’t fix something if I don’t know what’s wrong,” Vi argues. “I’m so fucking lost right now.”

You hate how believable she is. How the thought of hurting you seems so inconceivable to her. But that grainy video was clear enough.

“I hate you,” you murmur. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

Your name comes out broken, like you’ve wounded her. But you’ve officially folded your hand, won’t dare look her in her eyes because the both of you know it’s not true.

The championships roll in fast like a tide and neither your or Violet are ready for it.

You hear they’re live streaming the game, it’s the most anticipated one in the season. Piltover Stallions against the Zaun City Tigers. A part of you wishes you could support them, but then you’re starkly reminded that you’re a laughingstock amongst them.

The library on a Friday night is as quiet as can be, the hum of the fluorescents background to the voices in your head that are loud. You’re so engrossed in the study material that you don’t realize someone’s making a beeline for you until they’re knocking on the tabletop.

Ellie Williams stands before you in all her lean glory, hands sunk in her pockets as she stares down at you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing?” Your tone is clipped, disinterested because you believed that you and Ellie could be friends once upon a time.

“Coach sat me out because I socked one of those dickhead Zaun City Tigers in the mouth last weekend.”

You humph.

“Listen, we don’t have much time left, so I’m going to make this short and sweet,” she says. “Whatever happened between you and Vi is obviously personal and that typically would have nothing to do with me, but she can’t get her shit together because all she can think of is you.”

“And that’s my problem because...?”

“I know that Vi comes off a certain way, but she’s my best friend, like my best friend in this entire shithole of a world, and she’s—”

“No offense, Ellie,” you cut her off. “But if Vi sent you here to plead her case, I think that’s pathetic and—”

“Okay, well maybe if you shut up for three seconds and let me get to my point—”

You close your textbook and shove it in your backpack before standing to signal the end of the conversation.

“Whatever, I don’t have time for this.”

Ellie watches you walk away, takes in a deep breath because wow, you’re a bitch when you’re mad, but she absolutely gets why Vi is whipped.

“Violet’s in love with you.”

And that statement makes you freeze. Tears cloud your vision as your fists tighten around the strap of your bag.

“If you fuck someone else while you’re in love, I want nothing to do with it,” you bite.

Ellie’s brows shoot up.

“Whoa, what?”

“Violet fucked someone else as soon as things got tough, and if that’s the kind of person she is in love, I’d rather be alone,” you say stiffly.

“Respectfully, there’s no way Vi’s interested in getting pussy from anywhere else with how down bad that bitch is for you, but even if she was, I spend over seventy percent of my day with her and know that all she’s been doing the past two weeks is moping over the fact that you handed her ass to her on a silver platter.”

“There’s a video.”

Ellie’s brows must be mingling with her hairline right about now.

She reaches a palm out.

Show me.

You open the DM from sev.94, watching as Ellie’s expression morphs from morbid curiosity to disbelief, to a quiet rage.

She’s handing your phone back to you and grabbing you by your forearm.

“She’s fucking dead.”

When you enter the rink, the ice is tense.

It’s the middle of the second period and the game is tied 3—3.

Your eyes comb the playing area, can’t find Vi’s jersey number in the mix, but finally settle on her on the bench, shoulders terse and obviously on edge.

She doesn’t clock you yet, had given up on the idea of patching things up with you after your last conversation.

“Vi’s been missing her bracelet since practice on Saturday,” Ellie’d told you on the way there, then pulled out her phone to show you the photo she’d taken of Vi passed out in nothing but her boxers on the couch the night of the last game, fucked up and sad. “We went out for like an hour after the game, but that was it. Vi was too fucking in her head.”

The girl from the tunnel, the one who’d been taunting the two of you, you piece together, has been the one behind it all, stirring the pot.

Throughout the end of the second period and all through intermission, Vi doesn’t notice you, too busy trying to get off the fucking bench to survey the crowd.

It’s only during final puck drop in the third period that their coach finally gives in, smacks the back of her helmet and tells her to make him proud that she lifts her head up.

And there, front and center of the student section is you.

Her eyes are wide, body frozen in place as she tries to figure if you’re just a figment of her imagination, but then the horn’s blaring and she’s having to zone back in.

At this point in time, she doesn’t give a fuck if they win or lose, she just needs to get to you.

“Your little bitch looks cute tonight,” Sevika comments wolfishly. “Bet she tastes as good as she looks.”

Vi easily intercepts her pass, cuts between two players as she shuffles it along with practiced precision. She sends the rubber flying and the goalie narrowly misses block.

“Maybe if you played as good as you ran your mouth, you’d wipe the floor with my pissbaby team you big bitch,” Vi calls, resetting in their corner.

And perhaps you’re her good luck charm, the only thing she needed to see to get back into it, because Vi reignites. The adrenaline pumping through her veins fuels every shot, and soon the timer’s buzzing.

7—5.

The roar is deafening, but you’re all she sees in the ocean of cowbells and pompoms.

She barely inches forward before something arcs through the sky and lands before her feet.

Her bracelet.

You watch from the sidelines, the final confirmation as Vi picks up the loop and launches herself at Sevika.

The crowd cheers.

Fight, fight fight!

You don’t know how many swings Vi gets in, just know that she’s flashing you a bloody smile before she skates off the ice.

Ellie emerges from the locker room and you’re perking up.

Most, if not all, of Vi’s teammates had come and gone and you’d been waiting patiently, anxiously, for her to emerge since the end of the game nearly an hour ago.

“She’s the last one in there,” is all Ellie says before strolling off.

“What if...what if she doesn’t want to see me?” you ask hesitantly.

Ellie chuffs a little laugh, doesn’t bother turning as she calls from halfway down the hall, “Find out for yourself, sweetheart.”

Vi’s pulling a tank top over her head as soon as you enter and your cheeks bloom when you catch a split-second of her tits.

She glances up at you, nose bruising and lip busted.

“Hey,” she spares you, stuffing her uniform and skates into her gym bag.

“Hi,” you squeak.

A pregnant pause as you take her in, hesitant to close the distance between the two of you.

“Didn’t think you’d make it,” she observes.

And you don’t really have a bullshit response, know that you had every intention of staying as far away as humanly possible, so you settle on humming your agreement.

“Ellie told me,” she starts. “Why you lashed out on me.”

You swallow.

“And part of me gets it, I really do,” she continues, “but I also thought you had more faith in me than that.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Fuck, Violet, I’m so sorry.”

“I told you to free up Friday night a few weeks ago,” she says, shuts her locker door and slumps down on the bench behind her. “I was going to tell you everything, officially ask you out, but then all that shit happened and it caught up to me.”

You take a step forward, and then another, and another until you’re standing in front of her.

“You have to know that I would never do something like to anyone, but especially not to you,” she says softly, taking your hands in hers.

“I know.”

She brushes her lips against your knuckles, pulls you in closer so that you’re standing between her legs.

“You’re right,” she continues, voice hoarse. “I don’t have a spotless track record, but I meant it when I said that I don’t give a shit about anyone else but you. I would give you anything I can if you let me.”

Your hands rest on her shoulders, her chin resting against the plush of your belly as you look down at her, speechless.

“That night, in the car, you said that you didn’t see what made you so different.”

“I don’t,” you admit.

Vi stands, caging you between strong arms as she drops her face into the hollow of your neck. You shiver when you feel her lips press to the skin there.

“We could start off with the obvious.”

One of her hands rests on the small of your back, pulls you flush so that the only things that separate you are the flimsy fabrics of your clothes. The other grabs a handful of your ass.

“I meant it when I said that you’re the kind of pretty that makes me wanna do bad things.”

You gulp, thighs squeezing as her lips part and she bites.

“Vi.”

“You got a giant brain,” she laughs breathily, fingers coming around the fiddle with your belt.

She kisses you, mouth hot and breath warm. It’s better the second time around, no doubt obscuring you from truly indulging.

“Pl—ease.”

“You’re kind and you’re selfless, and you’re my sweet, sweet little crybaby.”

“Violet,” you sigh breathlessly. “Listen to me.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Fuck me,” you pant. “Please.”

Violet nearly runs two red lights and whips into your neighborhood on two wheels.

The two of you are stumbling up the stairs and she’s spanking your ass on the last step as you fiddle with your keys and try to find the right one under the dim light of the complex hall.

Violet’s already unbuckling her belt as you turn the key, nearly taking you down as she shoves you inside and up against the front door.

“Maddie home?” she breathes.

“Out of town,” you answer quickly, kicking off your sneakers and pulling your sweater over your head. “Visiting her family upstate.”

“Perfect,” Vi hums. “I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on your couch.”

“Oh–”

One of her rough hands comes to cup your tit over your bra, her tongue laving over the other while her free hand makes work of the clasp.

You walk her back to the couch, stand between her knees as she flops back into the seat. Her arms spread over the back as she settles in, legs widening to give you ample room to strip.

Her eyes never leave yours as you easily unclasp your bra and shimmy out of your jeans, leaving you in nothing but a tight pair of little lace panties and pink socks that has Vi wet.

“C’mere,” she rasps, pulling you to straddle her lap.

Her lips immediately latch onto one of your pebbled nipples, tongue hot as her hands wander.

“Fuck.”

“Tell me what you want,” she husks, biting down on the swell of your breast.

And having Violet this close, her touch excruciatingly featherlight and tempting, you wind tight.

“Want you inside of me,” you whimper, fingers fixing around her throat. “Please.”

“Yeah?” she eggs you on, lips brushing yours as her palms settle on your ass. “You want me to fuck you?”

You nod eagerly, hips rolling in her lap as her breath pitches.

“Vi.”

Her nickname puffing from your lips makes her crack. You’re wound in her arms, face in her neck as she peels your thong taut, away from your waiting cunt, and runs her fingertips from your slit down to your clit.

“F...F—uck,” you sigh.

“Holy shit,” she marvels, licking her lips when she easily glides through your folds. “You’re really fucking wet.”

You grind down against her, clothed clit catching against her belt buckle. The cool metal sends a jolt through your pussy and you’re moaning loud in her ear.

And Violet really wants to take her time with you, wants to milk the first time she ever gets to fuck you for as long as she humanly can, but she’s still fully dressed and you’re practically naked, perfect tits pressed to her chest and fat ass in the palm of her hand.

She shifts you further into her, so that she can peek over the arch of your back as she sinks her middle and ring finger three knuckles deep into your needy heat.

“Ah, fuck, Violet.” Your voice breaks as she starts pumping into you, your arousal coating her fingers and the sound of her easily slipping through your pussy reverberating through the living room. “Fuckfuckfuck.”

She kisses your jaw, litters them until she’s catching your lips and licking crudely into your mouth.

You cry out when her fingers slip out.

She’s leaning the both of you forward, easing you from her lap and onto the couch as she takes a moment to shuck her shirt off and pull her belt through the loops in one tug.

You watch her through it all, the way the trim muscles of her biceps and shoulders flex as she leans over you, takes you by the ankles and yanks you until your ass is half-hanging from the edge of the couch.

She kneels before you, strips you out of your thong.

You don’t miss the way she shoves the soiled fabric in her jeans pocket.

“Jesus,” she breathes, gaze fluttering between your eyes and your pussy. “You’re so fucking pretty, sweetheart.”

Your toes curl at the praise, fingers closing around where Vi’s holding your legs apart.

“You know how bad I’ve been wanting to taste your pussy?” she rasps, gathering the lewdest amount of spit to dribble onto your clit. When you don’t answer, she’s freeing a hand to slap your slit.

“Nnngh, fuck!”

“Think I’ve always wanted to have you,” she admits. “But it was that stupid party fucking party and that stupid fucking skirt. God, I would’ve fucked you in that skirt if you let me.”

“Yeah?” you whine breathlessly. “Tell me.”

She’s stuffing you again without warning, curling her fingers in a way that has your back arching off the couch.

“Would’ve bent you over that sink and made you watch yourself while I ate you out,” she says easily.

And it’s so fucking delicious, the nasty shit Vi’s saying to you while she pounds your aching heat; the way she finally gives in and tastes you, sucking on your clit like she’s starved and you’re the only thing that can sate her hunger.

Your fingers curl through her hair as you teeter dangerously over the edge, nails grazing her scalp and tugging when she hits the spot deep inside of you that has you keening for more.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum,” you choke. “Holy fuck.”

You feel Vi grin against your pussy, watch her with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes because the sight of her between your legs in your moonlit living room has your insides twisting hard.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” she encourages you. “Cum all over my fingers. Wanna see you gush.”

“Hah, h—” Your thighs tighten around her head, fingers curled so hard in her hair, she moans in a mix of pleasure and pain. “Don’t stop, Vi, please.”

She moans into your cunt, savoring the heady taste of you as you practically ride her face.

The sound that fills the room is downright filthy, the sight that Vi beholds when she peeks from where she’s devouring you equally so. It’s picturesque, the way she has you writhing. A sheen of perspiration glistens over your flesh as she eats you out and it’s a perfect mix of her tongue and her fingers that send you soaring over the edge.

It’s a pitched whine that echos, the staccato of your shaky breathing that sings like music in her ears as you cum. And hard.

Her lashes flutter against the skin of your inner thighs as she peppers kisses there, her lips slick with spit and arousal.

“Fuck, babe,” she whispers. “That was...”

She can’t really choose a specific word, is just mind blown at the fact that she’d just made you cum so hard and so fast. It makes her tense and tingle, a smug wave of pride washing over her as she starts mouthing a trail from your belly, between the valley of your tits, up your throat, to finally press a chaste one on your lips.

You taste yourself first and foremost, but then you taste everything she’s ever wanted to say to you, all the unspoken words and the things she’d been too scared to share. Feel it in the way her hands are roaming, squeezing, caressing.

You breathe a disbelieving laugh, peck her lips again when she pulls away to brush your hair from your face.

“Vi—” Your breath hitches and your eyes glaze.

“I know, I know.”

You wrap your arms around her shoulders, legs hooking around the narrow of her waist as she bears your weight and picks up your boneless figure.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

The sun is warm against your skin when you wake up the following morning, your bedroom bathed in an orange glow.

You feel bone tired, body sore and muscles tight as your arm sweeps the other side of the bed in search of balmy skin, but instead you’re met with cool sheets and swelling dread.

You sit up quickly, find that you’re still naked, and take a moment to asses your bedroom. The bathroom door’s cracked, light off, and everything else is exactly where you left it.

Everything except Vi.

Oh, you think to yourself.

Almost don’t want to leave your room because your empty apartment will be confirmation enough that Vi really did get the last laugh in the end.

But you force yourself out of bed, shrug on an oversized t-shirt before finding the living room just as still as it had been before the two of you had barreled in the night before and she’d left her mark on you.

The only sign that the entire thing wasn’t just a figment of your imagination was Vi’s belt strewn haphazardly on the coffee table.

You feel hollow, almost numb, and even if a persistent part of your brain was consistently telling you that you should’ve known better, the tears well in your eyes because you’d really hoped Violet was different.

You knuckle the tears away angrily, mind racing far too fast to register the door quietly unlocking and the soft footfalls coming down the hall.

“Babe?”

Your gaze snaps up.

Like a vision, Vi’s standing in the doorway, a handful of plastic bags in tow. She’s wearing her clothes from last night and the puffs under her eyes make her a little worse for wear.

She sets the bags down on the eat-in, rounds the couch to take you by the shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” she worries. “What’s going on?”

You hiccup, crumpling in her arms because you were so fucking scared.

“Thought you left,” you croak.

Vi breathes a sigh of relief, blowing out a hollow laugh because her girl’s such a baby.

“You have jack shit in your fridge,” she teases lightly. “How am I supposed to make you a five star breakfast with greek yogurt and carrot sticks?”

You whine.

“Don’t care about breakfast,” your muffled voice sounds from where your face is pressed in her chest. “Just wanted to wake up to you.”

Violet groans.

“You’re so cute,” she laughs, kissing the top of your head.

“I wanna go back to bed,” you mutter petulantly, emotional whiplash making your eyes droop.

“You’re not gonna let me make you breakfast?” Vi picks, smoothing the hair from your face.

Your eyes catch the bracelet refastened around her wrist and you grin softly, taking her fingers to press a kiss to her palm.

She could combust, gaze gooey as she watches you watch her.

Yeah, Vi has a huge problem.

One that’s particular, and overarching; one she doesn’t think she can go without.

And frankly, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

neng © 2024

[madamechrissy]

Pour it Up

Pairings: Stripclub Owner Sukuna x Stripper F!reader

Summary:- You are a single mother, your baby daddy is not just worthless, he also is actively trying to sabotoge you, so you go out on your own and raise your kid by yourself. Struggling your ass off, a friend of a friend named Toji decides to offer you a hell of a deal, a few hours a night at a strip club to make BANK. While there, you meet the other owner, Sukuna, and the moment he sees you? You annoy him how beautiful you are, how much he wants you, pushing him to insanity. He knows he must have you- no matter whose ass he needs to beat.

Warnings:- reader is a mom, lowkey/highkey Yandere Sukuna behavior, lots of drug use, drug dealing Sukuna (the club lowkey a front lol) hints of Mafia ties, EXPLICIT sexual content, blow jobs, cunnilingus, fingering, masturbation, teasing and eventually violence, some former trauma of reader. This part- Oral (M recieving) cum swallowing, dirty talk, drug use and masturbation- WC-6k

Based on Stripclub Owner Sukuna - IDK how many parts this will be, thinking six? That mobster art in the banner is by Sketch B on X- CHECK it- LINK

Playlist -Masterlist - Part Two>>>

Part One

“There you go, baby.” Toji murmurs to one of the pretty strippers, who is sitting right on his lap as he laps up salt off her breasts with his tongue, before taking the tequila shot she holds between them and downing it.

“Mr. Sukuna, are you ready?” Another dancer asks him, sitting on his lap, he proceeds to the same thing, licking her skin, moaning as he does, the tequila burning down his throat as he gulps, feeling it burn a trail down, he hisses at it, smacking the stripper’s ass when Toji lights up a blunt.

“Got a new girl comin’ in, Sukuna.” Toji mutters, inhaling and exhaling the puff of smoke, Sukuna takes the thick blunt and inhales the smoke into his lungs, feeling the effects of the alcohol and weed mingling as he watches the cloud of smoke release from his lips.

“Our best girl just left, I hope she’s good.” He hands the blunt back to Toji, who leans forward just a bit, blowing his smoke right into one of the girl’s mouths, she coughs and Toji snorts in laughter.

“She’s gonna make bank, plus she’s a friend of a friend, m’tryna help her out some.”

Sukuna bursts out in laughter then, throwing his head back. “You’re tryna help her out? With what, your dick?”

Toji scowls, lips set in a firm line. “Think I don’t help out friends, shithead?”

“Shithead?” Sukuna stands now, fists clenched. “The fuck you say, Zenin?”

“Ya heard me.” He grins as he stands too, the girls ooh and ahh at the two huge men clenching their fists.

“Wanna get some more scars on that mug of yours?”

“Ya act like you’re getting a hit in-”

“Is that the new girl!?” One of the strippers whispers, but loud enough for Toji to turn and grin.

“Lemme get her prepped.” Sukuna rolls his ruby eyes, ‘prepped’ sure, but he can’t help but be intrigued when Toji is so eager to go to her. He shrugs, however, he has a business meeting to get going with Gojo in about an hour, he has many, many profitable businesses that the government surely doesn’t know about.

Sukuna runs many, many things, up to and including running coke, and Gojo is a big player in that, the strip club although profitable is a bit of a cover for it, the girls all make extra bank to sell packs of it with each lap dance. And Sukuna and Toji, although they sometimes like to just beat each other up for fun, are actually decent partners at it.

“Candy, get the good shit for the meeting, hmm?” He says to her then, she nods eagerly, bending down to kiss Sukuna on the cheek.

“Of course Mr. Sukuna!” She runs off, in nothing but a thong, her ass jiggling nicely. Sukuna has to admit, life is pretty good for him.

Something feels empty, but nothing women, coke, weed and liquor can’t fill, along with beating up assholes here and there. No need for bouncers with Sukuna and Toji, though they had security but it was more for themselves, and rivaling members that loved to come try to fuck with their game or get a piece of it, but they were realizing something.

Sukuna is the King of this city.

He thinks he has this all figured out too, he has anything and everything he wants, filthy rich in fact now, and people fear him, or want to be with him, and that’s what he’s worked towards. As Candy gets back with the finest cocaine, he takes a line right off her inner thigh as she holds one up for him, her platform heel propped on his knee.

He chuckles as it hits him, and he can feel her heat, Candy is his favorite, but then he pauses, blinking as if he’s having some stupid insane vision when he sees the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Something about the girl in the silver bikini makes him crave her like a drug, like anything he can fucking imagine, to the point his mouth drops open and he shoves Candy aside.

Just who is this girl?

Sukuna needs her, and needs her now.

He needs you.

You’re standing there, as Toji has you by an arm, shivering just a bit in your silver outfit, one he had borrowed from one of the girls so you could dance tonight. The lighting is low and seductive in the club, the music reverberating off the walls, a kaleidoscope of crimson, emerald and sapphire that bounces off the dark, polished wood of the floor.

There are rooms with red velvet drapes, and a mix of modern furniture and items that look vintage, including the red sofa with one of the just… largest men you have ever seen? Toji was already a huge guy, this man, his long lanky thighs, his broad shoulders, he takes over the entire room, and when he stands, staring at you with ruby eyes, it’s intimidating.

Toji you’ve known for some time, but even he couldn’t really compare to this man, towering over everyone in the room, shocking pink hair and tattoos all across his neck, a fancy three piece business suit but no tie, just an unbuttoned black dress shirt. You notice lipstick mouth prints down his neck, notice girls all over him before he literally shoves them out of the way to just stare.

You panic then, you are a mom, you have a couple stretch marks and maybe wider hips than before when you danced, but you think the outfit is flattering enough!? Toji told you you didn’t even need to cover up, his dark green eyes had devoured your body hungrily with a ‘ya look fuckin’ fine, doll’ so you at that point felt okay stepping out in this.

But the way this man - Toji said his name is Sukuna - is staring you’re unsure if he hates you on sight or something is just bothering him!? You stand there, nervously, knowing he’s an owner too, and wanting to make a good impression. “Hello… Mr. Sukuna, right?” You tell him your name softly, and he steps a little closer, your head falls back to look up at him.

“She’s the new girl?” He asks Toji, his voice deep and husky.

“Mmhmm, she’s a little rusty at dancing but she’ll catch on quick, won’t ya doll?” Toji slings an arm around your shoulder.

“Yes, I can pick it back up, I promise.” You say eagerly, Sukuna’s ruby eyes narrow, you inhale the scent of cannabis mixing with… a cologne or scent Sukuna has, so woodsy and musky it damn near lures you in, then Sukuna steps impossibly closer, eyes slowly draping down your body.

“I’ll see what you can do.” He smirks at you, trying to feign ease, as if he doesn’t wanna drag you in his office and fuck you right on that desk then and there, you look down shyly when he brushes your hair back, watching how the lights hit your pretty face. “Gonna show me?”

“Y-yes, of course. Can I just… practice a little?”

“Mmhmm.” He says, stepping back now casually, sitting on the couch, legs spread wide, you can see how the material of his slacks stretches over his thick, muscled thighs. He looks at you under his lashes, taking a glass of whiskey and sipping on it.

“It’s um… nice to meet you.” You say softly, as he struggles not to openly stare, hiding the swirling storm inside his gut, as he eyes your body, your every curve, how your tits sway, how you turn, how you move.

Sukuna says nothing, and Toji’s rough palm touches your waist. “You’ll do good, just go watch a couple of the girls for a few.”

“Thank you, Toji.” You say with a smile, and then Toji watches the pure thirst written all over Sukuna’s face, chuckling.

“You got the hots for her, huh?” Sukuna scowls at Toji as he sits back down, eyeing one of the bags of coke and taking a little bit of it up his nose, sighing.

“Who is she?” Sukuna asks gruffly, eyes the sway of your hips and how your body moves when you slowly circle the pole with the girls.

“She’s a family friend, got a kid and shit. Single mom, thought I’d bring her here, she’ll make plenty.” Sukuna hums to himself, eyes narrowing.

You’re a mother?

Your eyes catch him across the room, lowering shyly. “She seems too… shy and shit? Ya sure she’s stripper material, maybe a bartender?”

“She will make way more dancing, and she’s danced in the past. Can’t take you eyes off her, huh?”

“Shut it.” But he can’t take them off you, and as clientele start coming, he’s fucking furious that they’re even able to see you.

“She’s not an easy fuck, Sukuna, so don’t anticipate it.” Sukuna smirks, leaning his head on his hand as Toji sips on his drink, a girl dancing on him.

Sukuna doesn’t even take the next dancer who wants to be on him, too busy watching you, knees on the polished marble floor, garters on your thighs already full of bills, your pretty little smile, eyes that are just… hiding something. There’s something about you that’s making him insane, and he’s said five words to you, so enthralled he barely notices when Gojo comes in.

Wearing sunglasses in a dark strip club he grins at Sukuna now, before looking in his direction, whistling. “Oh mommy.”

“Jesus.” Sukuna rolls his eyes as Satoru eyes you.

“Shit, she’s new huh?”

“Mmm.” Sukuna glares as Satoru takes off his glasses, eyeing you up and down slowly, too slowly.

“Can I just… go to the stage first?”

“Sit the fuck down, Satoru.” Satoru snorts as he looks at Sukuna and Toji, who is snorting in laughter himself.

“Possessive of the new girl, hmm?” Satoru sits between Toji and Sukuna now, as Candy starts cutting three lines for them.

“Shut the fuck up.” Sukuna grumbles, some guy is sliding his fingers up your thigh, and you’re tensing, brows together. “Hey, no touching the girls, fuck face.”

“He’s down bad, huh?” Gojo mumbles, as Sukuna is standing, gripping the guy by his collar.

“Since the moment he saw her.” Toji looks at Sukuna’s line, then at Satoru. “Shit let’s split his line too.”

Satoru and Toji are busy snorting Sukuna’s coke as he proceeds to fling the man out of the club, and you’re staring wide eyed at him, the grown man looking like a little boy compared to him, dangling in the damn air. You nervously clean the pole, before stepping down, coming over to Sukuna then and touching his arm, he jerks, looking at you like you burned him.

“I’m sorry…” You murmur, easing your hand down, nervously fiddling with your fingers in front of you. “Thank you.”

“What!?” He demands, leaning low, hands in the pockets of his slacks.

“For that. Thank you, it wasn’t… I told him to back off. But I appreciate it, you are looking out for me.” You touch his chest now, it feels so natural to touch him, feeling his heart beat thumping against an apparently insanely strong chest, looking up at him under your long lashes that you put on for the night.

“I…” He can’t think of what to say then, you’re so sweet it should make him sick, but now he’s just feeling more want, more need. “You can dance for me tomorrow, then, show me what you got.” He manages gruffly.

“I absolutely will.” You say with a shy smile.

A shy stripper?

Who the fuck are you?

“I don’t have any other outfits yet, but I’m going to get some soon. Is it okay if I just wear this tomorrow?”

“Pshh, I’ll have some ordered.” You blink in surprise.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s nothing.” He pokes around on his phone for a few, eyeing your body up and down, lip turning up at the corner. “I bet I get your exact size.”

“What- how?”

“I’m an expert at tit size. Body size. Women.” You feel your cheeks heat up as he studies you, one of his dark brows raising, it has slits and this barbell in it that just make him more fucking attractive, doing erratic things to your mind.

“Well you can take it out of my-”

“Keep your money.” His gruff words and dismissive wave of his hand gives off the vibes that it’s nothing to him, but it’s a sweet gesture even if he’s acting as if it’s not one. “Come in early and dance for me, would ya. I wanna make sure Toji picked a good replacement.”

“Yes, Sir.”

You saying Sir makes him immediately think of painting that pretty ass with his big handprints, then drizzling his cum all over it, so lewd his cock throbs with need. What the fuck is wrong with him, he sees naked women constantly, why are you already irritating him like this. He glares, confusing the shit out of you.

“Tch.” Is all he says, then he walks away. You blink in confusion, shaking your head before looking at the time, realizing you have to leave if you wanna relieve the babysitter tonight.

Rushing into the locker room to change back into normal clothes, you’re shivering as you catch Sukuna outside, about to step inside a limo, when he looks at your surely silly clothing. You’re just in jeans and a hoodie as the chill of the air is out, even as he’s in a car full of girls in pretty dresses, surely you look silly to him you think as you wave goodbye.

But Sukuna is instead thinking of how someone could make a black hoodie look so delectable, picturing fucking you in just that. He ignores the girls in the car as he, Gojo and Toji head out to the club, for more negotiations. He ignores anyone and everything, instead you’re wrecking his mind.

How annoying.

*****

You are exhausted the next morning, as you spent the day with your little three year old, but you’re so blessed because just one night at the club and your fridge was full. Despite his father being rich, he did nothing to help you all out, and not just that he got you fired from your last job, by refusing to pick him up just once, and your boss had enough of you always being late or leaving early.

Your family tried to help out but you were pretty stubborn and wanted to take care of her yourself, also they weren’t dripping in money, quite the opposite in fact, they were struggling and also lived pretty far. You’d been so dumb, you think now, running off with him like that, so blinded by everything that he was saying to you, everything he was making you believe.

You were an idiot.

And not only was he a piece of shit in many aspects, he was dangerous, very dangerous, running with the mafia, things you learned quickly when men showed up at your home with guns. After a furious fight, you’d forgiven him (also like an idiot) but what you couldn’t forgive was also the constant cheating, the making you feel like it was your fault he had to.

After the third time of finding him with someone, you finally packed and left, taking all you had which was barely a thing with your baby boy. He’d threatened you over and over to come back, but you absolutely could not do so. The pain of being with him was too much, especially as he became darker and darker, as he downed you more and more.

Your mind keeps whirling to Sukuna, for some reason the very way he looked at you did shit you haven’t felt in years. You felt excited and nervous, as you even tip your sitter that evening, getting your little boy settled, brushing back his soft hair. “You don’t have to give me this much, babe.”

“Please, you’re a lifesaver!”

“He literally sleeps and I watch Netflix.” She says, and you sigh.

“I know but really, I should be making way more to pay you.” She smiles softly, shaking her head.

“Go on now.”

You’re hastily running inside the locker room, pouring out some makeup from your bag when Sukuna strolls in, tilting his head as he sees you. “Shit, I’m sorry I know I look…”

You look fucking beautiful, bare faced, but Sukuna’s words get caught in his throat. Instead he smirks, opening a locker and handing you a combination. “Got you a few things.”

“Oh thank you so much!” You peer then, at the slinky material, the glitter and mesh outfits, blushing at how much they reveal. “These are so pretty.”

“Just had one of the girls order some shit.” He brushes it off, as you look up at him like that, driving him insane with need for you, you’re in some hoodie and a messy bun again and he doesn’t think that he could find you more attractive, thinking of lifting your hoodie up and sliding inside you.

His thoughts make his head spin, which makes him scowl at you now, why do you have to do this to him? You blink a bit, frowning. “Something wrong?”

“Tch, no, just… get ready. You’re late as fuck you know.”

“I know, Toji said-”

“He givin’ you a hard time, Ma?” Toji saunters in now, and Sukuna glares over at him.

“No, not at all, he bought me outfits actually.” You say softly, holding one up, some little plaid strap of a skirt and a plaid tie. “Ooh this is so hot.”

“Buying girls outfits, Sukuna?” Toji asks curiously, Sukuna rolls his ruby red eyes, shaking his head.

“She didn’t have shit, you should’ve thought to, idiot.”

“Wanna take this out-”

“Hey, hey… I’ll totally pay you back, Mr. Sukuna.”

“No.” Is all he says, as you’re yanking off your hoodie and then your shirt, and you’re just… bare to him, but not just him, to Toji, who he wants to smack for even looking at you. You try on the little outfit, all giddy and giggling, the way your pretty tits look almost take him out. “I have… shit to do.”

Toji snorts, and you look on curiously at him, as you now take off your jeans and hook the little skirt on. “I can’t tell if he likes me or hates me.” You mumble, earning Toji’s laugh.

“Oh he likes ya alright, alright doll, go get ready, it’s about to get real busy in here.”

“Got it.”

Soon you’ve got your wig on, a pink silky one, and glitter dusted all over your skin, you’re getting ready to do a set, nervously spinning around the pole, your muscles are not what they used to be, so you can feel the pull, can see where the floor will be bruising your knees. You’re bending over as men throw bills at you, but you keep catching them, those glinting red eyes of his.

His eyes make you feel like he’s touching you, with those big tattooed hands, you try to shake it off but when he watches you it truly is like he’s touching you. As you meet his eye and rest a hand on the pole, moving your hips in a figure eight motion, you see him through that cloud of smoke, over his glass of whiskey, watching.

After your set is done you come to him, knowing it’s time to show him your dance moves - which you’re not sure are any good anymore. Sukuna tilts his head, and spins a seat on a smaller stage off to the right, eyes raking over your body hungrily. “Time for the show, hmm?”

“Y-yes.” You’re shaking damn near, so close to this man, he just does things to you by existing that you can’t really explain, and now you’re on your knees before him right on that stage, as he hungrily drinks you in. He’s puffing on a blunt, holding it up, but you shake your head. “No thanks.”

“A shy stripper who doesn’t even smoke, huh?” You swear he can see your blush even in the dark room, with the neon lights bouncing off your glittery skin.

“I mean I have before.” You move your hips now, rolling them, turning around and arching up your ass, knowing he can likely see the wet spot in your panties as you do, caused by his very presence.

Sukuna exhales, leaning closer, smoke blowing right against you almost, you feel the warmth and have to bite back a cry, as you shake your ass for him, and he’s thinking of railing you right there. Fuck he wouldn’t even give a shit if anyone saw, actually, as he watches you look back at him, smiling just a bit, so shy and sweet.

“A shy ass stripper, how’s that gonna work though?” He asks, and you’re slinking onto your tummy, he sees it then, the wet spot forming, making him want to rip those panties off and fully see that pretty pussy, so hungry it’s sucking your panties right against your lips.

“Is there no appeal in shy strippers, Mr. Sukuna?” You tease, turning back around, spreading your thighs, pulling at the damp material as he damn near crushes the blunt with his fingers.

“Hmm. So what made you come here?” He asks, voice gruff when you sit back up, breasts right in his face only covered with thin white gauze, he can literally see your nipples tighten as he smokes the blunt again, blowing the smoke up and over you both, cock straining against his boxers.

“To make money?” He smirks when you sigh and take the blunt, inhaling it and coughing all cute, your eyes watering.

“Took a pussy ass hit.”

“I tried!” You glare now, fuck you’re cute.

“Yeah, yeah. Heard Toji say you got a kid.” You pause now, eyes locked on his, heart racing in your chest.

“Is it a problem I do?” You whisper, and he grows serious, shaking his head now, making you exhale in relief.

“Lots of the girls do. The dad not around?”

You laugh without humor. “He sure the fuck isn’t, but he somehow still is, if that makes any sense.”

“Messy?”

“Mhm. This way I get to see him all day and make money, I couldn’t afford full time childcare, my friend is helping for a few hours at night.”

“Ah. Get up there for me.” He murmurs, and you stand, spinning in a slow circle, he notices stares of other men even though you’re off to the side, temporarily thinking you’re just with him instead. “Fuck…”

“Is it okay? I’m rusty and a little out of shape right now.” You say, as you slide back down, coming to your hands and knees, Sukuna takes in every pretty inch of you that’s on display, including a couple stretch marks along your skin that just make you sexier. When you see that you pull up the skirt a bit, nervous. “Shit, sorry…”

“For what? They’re sexy as fuck.” You are blushing furiously, overheated as his thumb brushes over one, the first contact you’ve damn near had with him, shooting desire straight through you.

“You’re being nice to me.”

“I’m not nice.” He says with a bark of a laugh, and then eyes some of his business partners coming in. “These men will pay good, why don’t you just dance for them?”

“Won’t the other girls get upset?” You ask, and he shrugs a broad shoulder.

“Really don’t fucking care, I run this shit.” He puts the blunt out into an ashtray, leaving you with goosebumps, as a strip club owner makes you feel sexier than you ever did with your ex, making your mind race.

Just who was he?

*****

The next week goes by, and every time you’re on a shift, Sukuna is there, he’s always got eyes on you, until it becomes damn near an obsession. If anyone even comes near you the wrong way he’s kicking them out, he puts you in every perfect time to make bank, he’s constantly watching you dance, looking at every pretty outfit he’s buying you.

Soon, Sukuna can’t help but start stroking his cock after your dances, locked in his office, picturing pressing the tip between those plump lips of your pussy, dying to fully see it. He’s got a big hand wrapped around his veiny length at least twice during your shift, and instead of fucking Candy or any of his regulars, he starts ignoring them all, because he needs you.

Sukuna goes so far as to take your panties, you must be curious where three pairs have gone, but he can’t help it, he loves to put them against his face, to stroke his cock with them, until he’s busting a nut all on your panties. He’s irritated, infuriated at this change of events you’ve brought, and he’s short and terse with you, but he still looks out for you even so.

It’s why you can’t help but run to his office, when you see him, your ex is right in the club, and you know he’ll recognize you. Terrified, you're quickly striding into Sukuna’s big fancy office, only to pause at the sight of his huge cock in his hand, gulping as you shut the door, looking away.

“I’m so, so sorry… I…” You turn around, you can’t help but watch the pearls of white precum pumping out of his reddened tip, his tattooed hand pausing his movements, frozen as he eyes you. “It’s my ex, I didn’t want him to see me, shouldn’t have just…”

“Want me to beat him the fuck up? Kick him out?” Sukuna asks then, huffing as he strokes his cock up and down while you step closer, the sight so erotic, as you’re even closer you see it, a little piercing on the underside of his cock, tempting you so badly to take it in your mouth.

“You would do that?” You whisper, leaning over him now, while he twists his fist from the base to the tip, so casual, as if this is a normal conversation, while you wonder if you could even take that much dick.

Shit you’d try.

“Just say the fucking word, I’ll end him for you.” You shake your head now.

“No, you’re already so good to me, Mr. Sukuna.” Your voice is soft like a caress as you eye him, watching his cock jerk in response.

He laughs harshly. “Am I?”

“Why don’t I be good to you?” Sukuna’s brain short circuits when you gently take his hand, sucking the precum off his fingers, wearing nothing but a mini skirt and fucking tassels, he moans at the sight of your cheeks hollowing as you taste him.

“Fuck…” He has been with plenty of women, no one has ever left him speechless like this, just with that little movement. He takes those fingers then, slipping up your inner thigh and shoving your thong to the side, sinking them in, you gasp out, a sexy little whine from your throat destroying him. “Gonna be good to me, huh?” He asks huskily, as he curls his fingers.

You’re gushing down them, nodding and taking his enormous cock in one hand, bracing yourself with the other, barely able to cover a bit of him, stroking him with your soft hand instead, he moans, eyes laser focused on your pretty face. Your pupils are so enlarged he can barely see your pretty eye color, your lips parted when he presses that spongy spot in your gummy little walls.

“Wanna suck me brat, hmm?” You nod now, and he’s trying to keep it together, but when he’s sucking you off his fingers, his cock twitches, oozing more cum when you’re on your knees, looking at him under your lashes.

He yanks your wig off then, letting your hair loose, gripping and pulling while you swirl your tongue along his tip. Sukuna’s never felt like he’s going to bust from a lick, but here you are, ruining him, a mix of him wanting to beat the shit out of anyone who has ever touched you, and wanting to fuck your pretty throat, and your pretty pussy, until you’re drooling.

“Want me to fuck your little throat?” You nod, unable to speak or think, you don’t just do this, but you’re aching, cunt throbbing around nothing as You take as much as you can, breathing through your nose while Sukuna fucks up into your throat over and over, choking and gagging on him, pussy drooling past your panties. “Oh my f-fuck… right there.”

“Mmm.” Is all you can manage, when his big hand is entangled in the nape of your neck, bobbing your head up and down his cock, feeling your tongue swirl around his tip, as he pictures fucking into that pussy he tastes on his fingers again. Picturing burying his face inside you.

What are you doing to him?

He’s losing it further as you suck him as deep as you can, tears in your pretty eyes, so eager, he’s sucking in a breath at feeling just a hint of your teeth hit him, just a nipple on the tip as you take a breath of your own, licking at his piercing. “Look at you, doing such a good job, aren’t you? Slutty lil fuckin brat.”

You really should not like hearing it, but you’re wetter now, so wet you reach down to find your clit, moaning around his length, close to cumming just from how he’s ruining the back of your throat. It burns and stretches as you’re sucking him deeper and deeper, his thrusts hard, fucking your mouth now.

“That’s it, want me to fuck this pretty face, huh? That all those goddamn looks you give me- fuck… y-you… oh my… shit, slow down…” You’re sucking harder though, even when he pulls on your hair, even when he yanks your hand off your clit, sucking your little fingers. “Wanna fucking wreck you, ruin you, god…”

You’re sucking him harder, feeling the piercing roll on your tongue as he sucks you off your fingers, until he’s gasping, and you swear you hear this huge man with a good nine inches whine. Yes, that’s the sound that comes out of those vermillion lips as he shoves your head down, until you’ve got him all the way in the back of your throat, busting inside it.

You’re choking on salty but somehow sweet cum, drinking it all down as you exhale through your nose, mascara leaking down your cheeks as you take him all, and Sukuna literally can’t even see for a minute. He’s crying out like a little bitch all because you’re somehow psychotically good at sucking him!?

“Fuck… you brat… didn’t wanna bust-fuck!” He’s groaning now, yanking you off finally, and looking at those mascara trails on your pretty cheeks, at your fucked out expression and swollen lips.

“Didn’t think I’d swallow before I got a kiss.” You whisper, voice hoarse, and he yanks you up now, having you straddle his lap, cock still hard, just a little softer, but Sukuna on soft was still huge. You look right at him, your breaths coming in little pants as he studies you, moaning softly, brushing a thumb over your lip.

“Ya want a kiss? So fuckin’ sappy, huh?” He demands, and you smile just a bit, leaning closer, your lips a breath away.

“You so badass you don’t kiss girls, Sukuna?” It’s the first time you’ve just called him that, and the way he can almost taste his cum on your lips ends him, but he sure won’t show it, instead he’s gripping your tits, watching your face scrunch up in pleasure, smirking up at you.

“Wanna kiss me so bad? Want me to fuckin’ fill you?” He whispers, and you whimper then. “Pathetic.”

“Please.” Is all you whisper, and he’s kissing you then, when he kisses you he thinks he likes it as much as busting in your damn mouth, if that’s even possible, his tongue drippy and messy as it wars with yours. He’s drinking your cries, pulling your body so close against his.

“Shit…” He mumbles, he’s never felt anything like this, yeah he kisses because it’s kind of hot to, but you do something, something in his tummy clenching right along with yours, you feel it, that energy, as your puffy cunt presses on his again hard cock, and he’s biting your lower lip so rough.

“Sukuna…” You whisper, whining out, forgetting your ex completely, forgetting anything right now, and he looks at you under sooty pink lashes, making your pussy throb in need.

Sukuna kisses you hungrier now, his hands all over you, rough and hot and brutal, when suddenly the door opens, and Toji whistles. “Damn, okay… I got no chance, huh?”

“Toji get the fuck out.” Sukuna grumbles, but you panic then, remembering who you are. You have a kid and you’re just… on your knees sucking this man’s dick, about to fucking ride him.

It’s one thing to dance, but how are you losing yourself so quickly in him? It was like every problem faded, but it’s stupid, so stupid.

“I should go, I’m sorry…” You’re running out then, and soon you’re getting ready to leave for the night, when Sukuna corners you against the wall, the wind blowing through your hair as he bars you on either side with big muscled arms. “Sukuna…”

“You just ran, the fuck?” He grabs your chin, making your eyes meet his. “Come over tonight.”

You gasp then. “But… you got off.”

“And you didn’t, what kinda man are you taking me for, hmm?” His words make that ache return, as he’s got a thigh between yours, hissing. “She wants to cum, doesn’t she?” You nod weakly.

“I’m… I don’t do this.”

“And I don’t ask to do this.” He doesn’t beg either, but he’d beg for you, god he would. “Come let me take care of you.”

“I can’t…”

“Stop thinking and-”

“No, I can’t, I have my kid.” He pauses then, falling back just a bit, despite having this obsession with you, he still does not know enough yet, about your life, about you. He finds himself enamored as his lips part, and he studies you, the light from the moon glowing and casting a million diamonds off your still glittery skin.

God you’re so beautiful.

“When are you free?” He asks, and you sigh.

“Maybe tomorrow night? I’d have to pay my-”

“I’ll pay whatever extra.” He cuts you off. “Just… make sure you have a night.”

“Okay…” You never spend much time without your kid, it makes you just a little nervous, but something about him is luring you in, drawing you closer. “I mean he’s asleep anyway at night so I should be able to have the sitter stay.”

“He? A son?” He murmurs, and you nod, smiling a bit as he now is walking you to your car, the way you light up is so pretty, as he eyes your shitty ass car. God he can’t wait to take care of you, he thinks, have you dripping in money.

“Yes, a son. He’s my everything, it’s why I’m here.”

Sukuna wants to be something to you. He sighs then, seatbelting you in, a gesture caring and sweet, Sukuna is an enigma you realize, as he cups your face, eyeing your lips, and you wonder wildly if he will kiss you, but he just hovers. “I’ll see you tomorrow, hmm?”

“Yes. Goodnight, Sukuna.” You whisper, as he shuts your door, watching you drive away.

You will be his, there’s no choice really.

Okay I know this isn't like my other storieesss but it's been killing me and I need to get it out. Hope it's not too crazy lol? Sukuna is gonna be even more Yan as we go lol

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Buy me a glass of wine🍷 - Gen Masterlist - ©All works by Madamechrissy you may not reproduce

[bbokicidal]

Not a Need, but a Craving | Loser!Perv!SKZ

Warnings: Chris is lowkey a creep here lol, Perverted behavior; Panty stealing, slapping of tits/ass/face, hair pulling, up-the-skirt pics, one-sided masturbation, meandom?Jeongin Pairing: OT8 [individual] x Fem-implied!Reader Genre: Suggestive but not smut (well.. sort of. 18+) Notes: Based loosely off of this perv!skz post I did a while ago. <- read this first!

방찬

Relation: Trainees

❥ Chris tells himself he'll delete these pictures every time he takes them, but he always ends up adding them to the the album specifically curated towards you and your -- well, the panties he deemed so cute and so sexy, enough so that he needed the pictures on his phone or he'd die. It was the only thing that he could get off to at this point; Women just didn't ever seem to want to come home with him so he could actually get some pussy, so...

❥ He's almost... proud of himself with how slick he's gotten; Taking pictures up your dress at the club when you're dancing against him, sneaking a photo or two up your skirt on the train while you wait to get off, or even up your nightgown when you're in the kitchen making breakfast for him after he stayed the night because the ride home was hours long and you had too big of a heart to let him go so late in the night.

❥ And of course he knows you can never find out. You're pretty, popular amongst the trainees and he's -- yeah, he's been there a long chunk of time but he doesn't have a ton friends or go out with people like you do. If you found out, if anyone found out, he'd be kicked out of the company and he'd never see you - or your pretty pussy and cute lacy panties - ever again...

리노

Relation: College students

❥ Minho is always touching you. When he can, at least.

❥ It started all because you sat next to him when studying. He was there to help you, but you insisted on moving closer to look at the textbook he was gesturing to and the moment your thigh brushed against his own it was all over for him. He'd tensed up and choked on every word that tried to leave his throat, ears bright pink. He could even smell your perfume from where he sat.

❥ He knew almost immediately he needed more, so as he came over more often to help you with classwork - because that's all he was to you, a tutor - he would let you sit close or even ask you to come sit beside him instead of across the table so he could have you right there. He would think about it later, too; The way your hand lingered on his arm when you patted it and bid him goodbye that evening, the way your fingertips brushed over his own as you eyed the textbook together.

❥ Maybe he was a bigger loser than he thought, getting off just from the simple touch of a pretty girl he shares a class with. (Not that he'd ever admit to you that sometimes he comes in his pants when your thighs touch his own under the table...)

창빈

Relation: Gym buddies

❥ Changbin was... still shameless.

❥ But even less so, now. He'd begun asking you to come to the gym with him all three times of the week he went - his schedule a bit busier than normal these days - and every single time he would go home and right away hop in the shower to tug on his cock.

❥ He'd started doing this... thing. He swore it was so that at the end of the year, you could create a video that showed your progress over every day you spent together at the gym working hard - but really, Changbin took photos of you two together at the end of your workouts just so he could use them while he got off later that evening. The sight of your hair all messy, you in slightly damp workout leggings and a sports bra, skin shiny with a thin layer of sweat...

❥ He knew it was a little gross, using your body to get off like that. Especially when you were sweaty in all of the pictures - But he preferred it that way. He could hear your heavy breathing in his ears even hours after you'd parted ways, the way your chest bumped his arm as he flexed and you held up a playful peace sign and smile. Call him gross all you want - He knew what he liked, and what he liked was you.

현진

Relation: Friend of a friend

❥ The collection was growing day by day and Hyunjin was getting more and more bold with every move he made. He never got the real thing because girls just weren't interested in him with his long hair, glasses, and pretty round eyes; so this was the best he'd get.

❥ He'd started sleeping over more often, using Felix as a reason to even be there in the first place. You two were close, he was close with the Australian - so he was automatically invited too, right? Right! And when he was over at your house and you were distracted playing a game with Felix, well - what was Hyunjin to do but go through your drawers and find something to take home with him?

❥ He's got favorites, of course. Anything pink is by far at the top of his 'I want this' list, stealing a lacy pair the first time he came over - then two more pair, one set seamless and the other covered in cherries, the next time he visited. Luckily for you, he doesn't stay the night at your place too often, or you'd be running out of underwear constantly with how he's stealing them left and right.

❥ But Hyunjin swears he's seen you stealing glances at him here and there, so... maybe if you knew he was using them to jerk himself off every night or sleeping with them curled up near his face so he could rest with your scent right beside him, you'd be more open to just handing him a pair to keep.

❥ It's only a matter of time before he starts taking the used ones.

한

Relation: College Roommates

❥ Jisung can't help the way he's just so... submissive? Around you?

❥ Let me explain. Jisung's developed a real bad habit of acting like he needs help from you when you're around because if he needs help, you'll touch him. He'll eat messier than normal so you'll wipe his lips clean for him - and yes, he'll practically come in his pants at the feeling of your thumb so close to slipping in his mouth - or he'll almost act as if he doesn't know how to do something so you'll hold his hands while you explain or hold onto him as you help him learn how to do something. Even if he's just faking being a bit of a himbo so you'll help him.

❥ And one of the reasons he gets away with this ^ so easily? Is because he's a known loser around campus and he's constantly teased for it. And you..? Well, you're the pretty girl who takes pity on him.

❥ His favorite is when you come to check on him at night or peek in to see if he's sleeping before you shower. He'll hum out that his head hurts or that his back aches from training all day or working out - and you'll comb his hair through your fingers or rub your hands down his back until he's falling asleep under your touch. And while, yes, it does help him sleep in the long run - it also makes him rock hard. The moment you leave the room after he 'falls asleep' he's rutting his hips down against the mattress and whimpering your name into his pillow.

필릭스

Relation: Best friend's brother

❥ Felix is affectionate with everyone he's close to. But you -- you're beautiful, and soft, and your tits are just so...

❥ Call him a loser if you want - he knows it's what he is. A desperate, shy, sweet angel who's booksmart and tries way too hard to be cool, who hangs around the pretty, popular girl because she's his sister's best friend. Just the precious little brother who sees that gorgeous girl once or twice a week at his home and takes it as an opportunity to hang around her; Hugging onto you, burying his face in your neck, cuddling up close during movies.

❥ And you let him cling to you because 1) He's hot, and 2) You know it's the only touch from a woman he'll ever get. And you suppose you don't mind the way his hands wander over your body when he swears he's just cuddling close and getting comfortable. You're pretty sure he doesn't realize you know he's feeling you up and groping every curve of your body, but. Ignorance is bliss.~

승민

Relation:

❥ It starts as an accident.

❥ Seungmin's hand caught in your hair when he laid it on your back and as he pulled away, his ring caught and pulled. He'd moved away so fast it had been enough to make your head lull back, a gasp and yell of pain and laughter falling from your lips as you reach to push his arm away.

❥ And Seungmin... -- God. He's weak in the knees. He spots the way your mouth falls open, your nose crinkles and eyes close at the feeling of your hair being pulled. And he knows in that moment that he needs to see you like that again.

❥ So he does it as a joke; subtle and cautious about it at first. You'll play fight or bicker about anything and Seungmin will pull your hair, fingers fisted tight in the strands until his hand was so close to your scalp that he had full control of your head. On one instance he had pulled you close until his face was inches from yours, cocking a brow and listening to you whine about how tight he was holding onto your hair - and another, you'd dropped forward into his lap in laughter while he was still holding onto you and he swore he almost shot a load in his boxers. That was the closest a woman had ever been to his hips - And if you didn't feel the way his cock twitched against the side of your face, it would've been a miracle.

아이엔

Relation: Close friends

❥ Jeongin loves being a little mean to you because you're the only woman in his life who will let him get away with it.

❥ You're one of his closest friends, even if he's kind of lame and everyone looks down on him for being the youngest in his group - and you're the one who openly bickers with him, teases him, and he does it all back to you and you take it, which surprises him a little bit. You let him pull on you and wrestle with you or cling to you when he's tired, even if he's all sweaty and gross. But sometimes the wrestling or bickering turns to pushing and pulling on each other until you're both on the floor and he's holding you down while you're kicking to be free.

❥ The first time he spanks you, all he remembers is the way you cry out and feeling of your ass against his palm. He plays it off by laughing because that's what you do, completely disregarding it and brushing it off before spanking him as well in retaliation - and he lets it happen. Not because he's into it, but because he's too distracted with trying to figure out how to hide the fact that he's so hard it hurts.

❥ He's going to need more of that feeling in the future. He knows he does - so he does it again to test the waters and when you, once again, laugh at it and take it as play-fighting, he dares to go further. These days the two of you are always slapping at each other's arms and thighs and ass - but if he's feeling really bold he'll slap your tits and sometimes, your face. Gently, of course, little taps here and there when it comes to your cheeks. And each time you take it in stride with giggles and slapping him in return, while he gets off to it later that evening in the bathroom stall after practice, remembering the way you feel under his palms when he spanks you.

❥ And that's how Jeongin discovered his impact play kink.

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[wonwoonlight]

when mingyu is much too extroverted for you but it's okay because he's your battery anyway

A/n: mingyu brain rot. happy mingyu day (still)

Tags: me projecting kinda fluff, one (1) kiss. Theyre just so in love😔 lowkey inspired by the mingyu, hoshi pinggyego episode bc i was just rewatching it yestday. Idk the wc bc i write it on a whim directly on tumblr lol.

Sometimes you look at Mingyu's schedule and get tired in his stead.

He'd have a shooting in the morning (which means salon appointment before that), work out after lunch, attend his english class before dinner, meet his friend for dinner, dance practice with the members, then go home and have it in him to happily make some juice himself.

You often look at him like he has two heads, wondering where does he get all his energy from. You've asked, but he has simply grinned at you like it answers anything.

It's really a wonder how you end up being with him, and you mean it in so many ways. But in this case, it still fascinates you that you, whose social battery starts at minus twenty when you wake up in the morning, would be with Mingyu, whose sociak battery's always recharged to 300% the moment he opens his eyes.

You have your moments too, of course. There are days when you feel like going out and meeting friends even though you know you'll get too tired the next day; when you strike up conversations first with some people at work; and when you become the center of the noisiness in your small group of friends.

But those are particular moments with particular reasons.

You're only noisy with the people you’re comfortable with. You strike up conversations first because it's more awkward if you don't. You force yourself to meet with your friends because you're a little lonely despite your comfort in being alone, and you miss them despite the way they drain your social battery.

Mingyu, though?

Mingyu rarely has his other moments. His idea of healing is to go out with his friends even though his body is begging for him to take the day slow and sleep for 24 hours.

He used to think it's okay because he slept well, anyway. Two hours between schedules. One hour on the way home. And then perhaps three or four hours during the night if he's lucky.

But it doesn't work that way and he's learned it the hard way when he fell sick due to exhaustion.

It's only after he meets you that he's learned to slow down.

"Let's go out tomorrow! You have the day off, right?" He had asked one day, a thousand places going through his mind as he pondered where to take you.

"I just kinda... wanna stay at home?" You answered him sheepishly. "Can we do that?"

"But you have the day off? Don't you want to do something on such a rare day?"

"I do." You smiled at him, his resolve melting by the seconds. "I want to be with you at home."

Of course Mingyu knows some people just live like that. He had lived with twelve other people before; he was housemate with Jeon Wonwoo, The Hermit. He understands. But, still, sometimes he wonders if you're really okay spending your time off by... being home instead of doing something special.

He should've been able to start slowing down when he lived with Wonwoo. But he was busy with his schedules and he didn't think much about Wonwoo's habit of staying home.

With you, though. He always, always, wants to go somewhere with you. When he discovers a new place, when he sees something on Instagram, when he hears anyone recommending something, you're his first thought. He always asks you first if you want to go, and only then decide to go with someone else if you don't feel like going.

You indulge him, of course, would force yourself to go out if it means getting to see Mingyu's excited smile at going out and trying something new.

But sometimes you just don't have it with you to go out even with Mingyu by your side.

Mingyu, of course, appreciates your honesty. He never fails to remind you that it's okay and that he understands.

In the same sense, on the day when Mingyu is a little too hyper and he just has to do something outside, you'll pull through despite your social battery already blipping from its low status.

It's Seungcheol's place you find yourself in this time. Some of the members randomly get together as they suddenly feel like drinking and their hyung's place is always their haven. Jeonghan's sister and Minghao's best friend are also present, making you relieved because you're not the only non Seventeen member in the room.

You would join the conversation from time to time until you don't. It's your telltale: head falling into his shoulder, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt, and your lips shut because you just can't really talk at that point.

"Wanna go home?" Mingyu whispers when he notices, which is immediately after you start leaning on him. "We can go home. I don't mind."

You look at the room, heart warm at the thought of these people having been there for Mingyu since day one. That you're glad they've accepted you as a part of Mingyu. That, even if you're tired from the day, and you no longer feel like talking, you don't mind being here a little longer.

You look at Mingyu, can tell that he still wants to be here but he really doesn't mind if you'd rather go back and rest.

You choose to drop a shy kiss on the corner of his lips instead, holding back a laugh at his stunned face.

"It's okay." You return to your original position, head on his shoulder, your arms holding his as your anchor. "We can stay."

[always1star]

apologies

how jjk men show they’re sorry after an argument

includes: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, and sukuna (seperate pairings)

-----------------------------------

Gojo who apologizes with his money. He’s an avid gift buyer, coming home with flowers and cards and stuffed animals while you’re still pouting. The type of guy to get on his hands and knees because he simply doesn't care and would do anything just so you can look at him again. Of course, you always will forgive him because you love him and he’s great. In my opinion, also the most likely to own up to his mistakes and make genuine change. 

Geto who has the most poetic apologies. He’s mr full blown apology, sitting you down and ranting on and on about what went wrong and how things will be different next time. The communication in your relationship is always very important to him. He’s really good with his words so it's really easy to find where he's coming from and to forgive him, and so you guys make up in maybe thirty minutes after an argument. Maybe also a little manipulative with the way you forgive him with his words so easily (uh oh).

Nanami who’s lowkey a stubborn apologizer. Unfortunately, I think he's the type of guy to not think he's wrong and drag it out for as long as he can before he realizes he actually is wrong and then wont stop apologizing. He will take over every chore you have, will buy you things, will say he’s sorry over and over again even if you're already over it. He feels so sorry for ever even doubting that you were right. He probably won’t ever forgive himself, but you’re long over it and waiting for him to just forget it ever happened. 

Toji who isn’t too sure how to say sorry. He’s the type of guy to not really know how to say sorry but he tries anyway. Usually tries to mend things with a simple, “I’m sorry,” but he never really apologizes more than that. He’s not used to receiving, let alone giving apologies, but he wants to try with you because he wants you to know that he’s willing to make change and adapt to you. Although he isn’t too great with his words sometimes, he will treat you extra well (even better than before! and he treats you super well!!!) for the next 2 weeks lol. 

Sukuna who hates saying sorry. He never ever will say sorry because it would hurt his pride too much. However, upon seeing how upset your arguments with him made you, he lets go of his pride just a little bit. Instead of saying sorry, he shows you he is through little actions. He stops doing things you don’t like him doing for a little: he shows up on time, is a little more proper, tries to be a little nicer. Small things that other people would barely notice, but you deeply appreciate him trying.

-----------------------------------

sorry for not writing, i made lads characters on the sims and have been having a blast... :)

[gr4cier4cie]

♡ LAPS INSIDE YOUR HEAD ♡

or: you're an artist performing sold-out shows on a long-awaited tour. what happens if a certain f1 driver ends up buying a front row seat to every. single. one? singer!reader x carlos sainz

warnings: sexual innuendo (duh because it's me), no specific face claim but women of color lol bc i lowkey (highkey) always imagine reader as me oopsoo

♡

liked by yourbestfriend, carlossainz55, sabrinacarpenter, gracieabrams, sza, username1, username2, username3, and 797,690 others

y/n y/l/n thank you thank you thank you for being the most incredible audience to start off the 'gilded not golden' tour, shanghai!!!! looking forward to night two!!! 🩷

gracieabrams i cried. i am crying. we were all crying. (♡ by author)

y/n y/l/n i, too, was crying (unfortunately or fortunately idk) yourbestfriend yes i can attest to this!!

sza that dress was MADE for you honey (♡ by author)

y/n y/l/n me when i saw you at the grammys ahhhh

username1 does anyone else notice carlos sainz lurking in the likes lol

username2 wait who is that 😭 username1 he's an f1 driver for williams username3 LFMAO he's real for that i mean look at her

username4 holy fuck goddess on that first slide 🩷 (marry me)

username5 im seeing her night twooo yayyyyyy

username4 ur so lucky the tickets sold out SO FAST username5 IKR she hasn't toured in forever!!! 😭😭 username4 did u see her ex apparently showed up for n1 LOL username 5 SERIOUSLY EWWW

♡

♡

liked by yourbestfriend, carlossainz55, username1, username2, username3, username 4, and 587,540 others

y/n y/l/n you know what, shanghai? i might stay a while!! (thank you so so so much for two INCREDIBLE shows!!! you really give me something to live for. kisses from me always and forever!!) ✨ and thank you to username7 for letting me use her picture for this post!!

username7 girl thank YOU its not the picture it's the person

username1 CARLOS SAINZ WE SEE YOU IN THE LIKES (♡ by author)

username4 the way y/n liked ur comment too username1 pls the f1 crossover is HILARIOUS 😭 username1 watch them get tgt i think he has a thing for good hair

yourbestfriend Y/N PLEASE HAVE MY CHILDREN

y/n y/l/n ma'am please this is on the main yourbestfriend that's never stopped you 👀

username9 okay is racecar about her ex bc like... that's insane

username10 nah it wouldn't be isn't he in finance or smth username9 who is it about then bc omg its driving me crazy

username12 I AM DEAD PLS THE WAY CARLOS SAINZ KEEPS LIKING ALL OF HER POSTS 🩷

username13 unapologetically i cried to racecar no regrets whoops

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♡

liked by carlossainz55, your best friend, username1, username2, username3, username 4, and 699,789 others

y/n y/l/n HUGE HUGE HUGE thank you to williamsracing for giving me the opportunity to watch the race at the shanghai international circuit from the paddock!! it was absolutely incredible (and we all know racecars are my fav anyway)!!

username1 OMG Y/N AND F1 CROSSOVER I AM DECEASED

username4 holy fuck isn't 55 cs's number

username1 YES OMG username2 and he liked this post too WHAT username3 the racecar reference WHAT ‼️‼️

carlossainz55 So good to see you, Y/N!! (♡ by author)

y/n y/l/n agreed!! let's do it again sometime!!

username9 THE WAY THEY'RE COMMENTING ON EACH OTHER'S POSTS NOW WE'RE DEVELOPING GRRR

username8 the way y/n 1) debuts a song called racecar 2) gets invited to the william's paddock literally days later is so fucking funny to be

username5 SHE'S GETTIN AROUND AS SHE SHOULD username7 also that dress on her is soo qkwjehwne

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liked by y/n y/l/n, your best friend, alex_albon, charles_leclerc, username1, username2, and 765,000 others

carlossainz55 Thank you to the entire team and to the fans for all the support this weekend in Shanghai! Looking forward to another great race at Suzuka next weekend. ¡Gracias a todo el equipo y a la afición por todo el apoyo este fin de semana en Shanghái! Espero con ilusión otra gran carrera en Suzuka el próximo fin de semana.

y/n y/l/n i'll be there (just like last time)!! (♡ by author)

carlossainz55 I'm counting on it!

username1 okay the way that literally ALL of the y/n fans have just FLOCKED HERE

username2 congratulations on a strong race carlos!!

username11 ¡Estuviste increíble este fin de semana, Carlos!

username3 PLEASE TELL ME Y/N AND CARLOS ARE DATING PLS

username8 honestly guys it's none of our business username9 i'm more concerned about the jet lag y/n's gonna have going from china to italy for the tour and then to japan like WHAT username10 WAIT YES I DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE THAT

username12 CARLOS SAINZ PLS BE MY HUSBAND

username13 literally me lol

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liked by carlossainz55, your best friend, username1, username2, username3, username 4, and 555,700 others

y/n y/l/n you know me, always in blue for race weekend 💙

carlossainz55 Remind me to get you a William's hat amor. (♡ by author)

y/n y/l/n YOU TOLD ME TO WEAR BLUE SO I DID STOP COMPLAINING

username1 GUYS WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW

username2 is this like... a confirmation that carlos was the guy in the picture from earlier? + that they're dating?

username3 i reeeaallly hope this isn't like a publicity thing username4 yeah like that would suck especially since y/n's been so open about her past relationships and how they used her for clout and stuff

username8 honestly happy for them they're cute together

username7 the hair game combined is deadly username9 LOL 'hair game' has me rolling

yourbestfriend sooo... how's ur jet lag my girl (♡ by author)

y/n y/l/n oh i think i slept through the entire race (who won?) yourbestfriend HE BORED YOU SO BAD YOU FELL ASLEEP y/n y/l/n don't tell him!! 🥴

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liked by y/n y/l/n, your best friend, alex_albon, lando, charles_leclerc, username1, username2, and 696,540 others

carlossainz55 Another great race in China! Thank you to the entire team for your hard work and dedication. I am incredibly proud of our result. Thank you for everything! ¡Otra gran carrera en China! Gracias a todo el equipo por su arduo trabajo y dedicación. Estoy increíblemente orgulloso de nuestro resultado. ¡Gracias para todos!

y/n y/l/n is the only reason you didn't thank me the fact that i shamed your cooking skills (♡ by author)

carlossainz55 You wounded my soul, amor. y/n y/l/n IT WAS A JOKE CARLOS I SAID IM SORRY (♡ by author)

username10 THESE TWO ARE SO DAMN CUTE TOGETHER AHHH

username22 amazing race today carlos!!! pride from argentina!!

username11 okay these two are like the best looking couple ever im kind of jealous of... both of them?

username3 REAL OH MY GOD I WAS JUST THINKING THAT username4 THEY'RE BOTH SO HOT LFMAO username8 i kinda like how they're keeping it sort of private tho like its not over the top or anything

alex_albon carlos mate y/n might be right honestly

carlossainz55 We are no longer teammates. y/n y/l/n OKAY I DIDN'T MEAN TO START THIS (♡ by author)

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note: OKAY SO TO THOSE WHO SAW THIS POST BEFORE I JUST ADDED PT 2 STRAIGHT ONTO HERE: thank you for baring with me!! i knoowwww i ended this kind of ambiguously but i liked the idea of these two muppets just kinda finding their way through things!!! thank you all for reading this is def not my last smau!!

[bunni-v1]

your shadow milk cookie relationships headcanons are now my canon. like what the fuck how can a piece of literature be so accurate to established information we know about him!!!!!!! hejsjsdjejwje ur shadowmilk is so loving and so cute lowkey

if you don't mind, since your requests are open, could you elaborate more on some more aspects of the relationship pre-ep 8 and post-ep 8? (if u haven't finished this part then u can just ignore this hehe) you mentioned how smc naturally gets more and more devoted as time goes on and he opens up (THEY MAKE ME FEEL SO ILL) so i've also wondered how he would act like when there is a threat that legitimately puts his lover in danger, or at worst, sets the tone to losing them. he'd mald, i imagine...

feel free to answer, feel free to ignore—i adore your work and i think it's not strange at all for you to shift to cookie run after dabbling in mostly human-ish games like ZZZ and TWST. all in good fun, plus you're feeding a parched audience (i am audience, haha) have a good day!

🍓Okay so this ask kinda has three parts to it, so please excuse me if it seems a little... all over the place. I'll answer both the pre and post ep 8 things, and then I'll be touching on what he's like with the threat. I do hope you enjoy my love <3

Tw: Mentions of body horror (cookie body horror?); Shadow Milk Cookie; Obsessive and Possessive behaviors; unedited

Info: Shadow Milk x Reader; Fluff; Angst (lowkey tho); Pre and Post episode 8 SMC (spoilers ahead lol); Drabble/Headcannons(?)

Pre Episode 8

From how the story seems to be set up, the confrontation with SMC should happen last, they just released it now because of the anniversary knowing he'd be hella popular lol. So I'm functioning with the idea that Gingerbrave and Co. arrive around when the other Ancients are finishing up their own confrontation with their respective beasts, meaning there's a lot of time to work with hehe.

Anyway, pre-episode 8 Shadow Milk leans into the category of 'yandere' a lot more than post. He's very obsessive about you, again stalking and watching you, learning as much as he can about you before he even allows you to see him.

You're more often than not being monitored by him, and if you're not, he's probably with you. He gets annoyed when other cookies talk to you, and he isn't afraid to voice that. While he does give you a lot of freedom, he does subtly limit the things you do and the people you're around. It's harder when you're not with him in the spire, but he goes about messing with the environment to keep you where he wants you.

And, yes, he'll crumble cookies in your name if he needs to. Their lives are arbitrary in the grand scheme of things, especially so if they're causing you strife. He won't hurt any cookies you hold dear to you -- though he really may want to at times -- only cookies that are a threat to your emotional or physical well-being. If the death causes you too much terror, then he'll tone it down to just... making their lives a miserable hellscape. It's what the deserve for hurting you, of course!

When you do join him in the spire (because you will, it's just a matter of how long it takes him to nudge you in that direction), the behavior is a bit more obvious. He doesn't like you leaving the spire for literally anything, and if you do he knows and will pop up by your side the second you stray too far. He plays it up as cute worrying, but he's legitimately scared for your wellbeing, like terrified. You're never alone in the spire if he can help it (and he can).

Like I said he watches a lot. There are eyes all around the spire and they follow you shamelessly. They appear content to just watch you, sometimes even literally forming hearts, so they're no threat to your well-being. Again, he's just observing you, more excited now that you're actually in the spire and close to him.

There is a notable difference in the environment, though you likely don't notice it (because you've only ever seen post you moving in). The atmosphere surrounding the spire is lighter, more colorful, and happy. It reflects his excitement at having you around, a visual nod to his love for you, even though you're not exactly away of it.

Despite the negatives here, there are positives! He's incredibly doting, you'll want for nothing with him. Your greatest dreams will come true with a wave of his hand, even with only half his power. He does let you wander around, you just won't be alone when you do so. He's very aware of the dangerous environment on beast yeast, he's cause for it, so he won't be risking your safety.

He's incredibly showy with his style of loving. Grand gifts and performances just to get you grinning and giggling. (He loves writing plays where the two of you are the main characters, falling in love in a million different ways, cutie he is.) He serenades you with syrupy sweet lyrics all about how much he adores all of you. Scoops you up in his arms and dances around with you. He's very touchy, like I said, always needing to have physical contact for whatever reason. (It's because he's scared you'll leave him too.)

He doesn't kiss you much if only to initiate more intimate activities. When he does, his intent is to fluster you nearly every time. Kissing is something that's hard for him, for whatever reason. It's more intimate than touches, and weirdly enough more intimate than sex in his mind. It makes him so vulnerable, so he tries to avoid it unless it's to get a reaction out of you.

Most of what he does is to get a reaction, actually. He likes seeing the way you express yourself, and regardless of what you do, he finds it cute. It's a little intimidating how much he stares, and he stares a lot. Very frequently you'll find him sitting around just... watching you. He won't stop even if you acknowledge it, just smiles all innocently until you go back to what you were doing.

That's sort of how it feels during this whole time, that he's just watching from the outside. There's a distance he keeps between you and him, the power dynamic is a lot more stark here. However, when you're not aware - be that you're sleeping or doing something where you can't see him - genuine affection comes out.

Floating around the spire in his arms as you rest, he whispers sweet nothings he could never bring himself to say to your face. He'll lead you around the winding halls of the spire with a path of your favorite flowers, aiding you in getting to where you want to go. He leaves gifts around, taking you on little treasure hunts just to reveal something sweet and heartfelt at the end. The spire itself shifts and changes around you to be more to your liking, and there are rooms within it dedicated to the hobbies you enjoy.

This gentleness is all hidden when you're together, though. Only showing itself when you can't look him in the eyes and reject him. He can't bring himself to let you in, he's scared of that rejection. He wants you to think he's powerful and amazing, so allowing you to see just how much he adores you would be terrible. What if you don't like him at his weakest? What if you realize that you could do better than him? What if you meet Pure Vanilla and you realize how much better he is? What if you leave him? Oh, it tears him apart.

So, he can't let you in. He'll put on a performance so dazzling it'll distract you from how much his heart aches when he sees you. He'll prove that he really does love you through flowery words and fantastical shows, anything to hide how much he adores you. Even when you try to get him to connect, he'll brush it off for fear of you not accepting him as he is. He can't handle you rejecting him, not after all he's done to keep you at his side, not after how hard he's fallen in love with you.

Post Episode 8

This is where we see Shadow Milk Cookie open up a lot more to you. After the so-called betrayal of Truthless Recluse, and his being incredibly emotionally vulnerable from Compassionate Pure Vanilla's offer for friendship, he's now forced with the problem of you knowing him. You saw that raw vulnerability, the loneliness that aches deep within his dough and infects his very being with a sickness he cannot cure.

No matter how much he puts on airs, he cannot avoid you knowing him now. He has nothing to hide behind anymore, you saw how much he craves connection and care, there's no going back from that. He briefly considers leaving you, but the idea of losing you sends shivers up his back, so he dismisses the thought as quickly as it comes. He may actively avoid you for a little while, but if you are patient and kind to him, he won't be able to hide for long.

Showing him that you still feel the same way by continuing your regular shows of affection is a huge relief to him. He truly expects you to think less of him now that you've seen that side of him, but you don't. It's rather odd to a cookie like him, who spent his entire existence being worshiped, revered, and feared. He assumes when you see him weak you will despise him - that you were only there for all the grandiose gifts and displays. He doesn't consider the thought that you have fallen in love with him. That you consider him yours as much as he considers you his.

It takes him a bit, but he begins to pick up where you left off. This time, though, he's more... gentle about everything. You get to take the lead around this time, and as odd as it is for him, it's cathartic to be taken care of for once. He can let his walls down and relax while you stroke his hair and hold him close to your chest. You kiss across his face with reverence that not even the most loyal of his followers could ever begin to replicate.

You love him.

He becomes addicted to the feeling, your affections being something he craves with a hunger he'd never felt before. It takes a bit for him to come to you for it, so usually you'll have to initiate it, but he melts into your hands so easily. It's pathetic how much hold a little cookie like you had over a god like him, but when you're humming sweet words at him he can't bring himself to care too much. (He will huff and puff if any of the other beasts give him shit for it, telling them off like a angry child.)

All of those hidden affections of his become much more obvious to you as time goes on. He's a bit awkward with it because he's never really been so open with any cookie before, but it's charming the way he tries so hard to be genuine with you.

You get to hear those sweet words of love from him directly, earnestly said while he holds your hand in an iron-tight grip. He gives you those heartfelt gifts by hand, telling you all about how he worked so hard to get it for you and how much care went into it. He leads you around places himself, preferring to be by your side than guiding you from a safe distance. Even the way he holds you is different, much more adoring than before. It's a kind of care he hadn't really shown you before, more considerate of what you might want rather than what he believes you might want.

And, of course, he kisses you now. Very frequently. He still does do it to fluster you at times, but less than he did before. Now every kiss has a purpose behind it, a means of displaying his affection for you. They're soft and loving, full of emotion.

Something that carries over consistently is the watching. He keeps an eye on you at all times, regardless of where you're at. Since you're no longer in the spire, there's more risk so he wants to ensure your safety. Even if you're with another beast or with Black Sapphire or Candy Apple, he's watching you anxiously.

Now if you acknowledge the eyes, they'll react to you. Before they usually just continued watching, but now they'll squint and shift excitedly at your attention. Sometimes he'll even drop flowers or a little plushie at your feet while the eye seems to grin at you with glee. You can kiss them, if you'd like -- they're warm and soft but they don't feel like eyes. If you do so the pupil with dart around nervously, then it'll pop out of existence and arrange itself to another spot you can't easily fluster him at.

Still, though, they just watch you for the most part. Making sure you're safe and happy when he isn't around. He's a bit less obsessive about who you're spending your time with, though. He trusts that you won't leave him a lot more now, and no longer finds himself threatened by anyone (other than PV).

Bonus below

Now, as a mortal cookie in beast yeast, most things put you in danger. It's a tough environment to live in, and there are a lot of violent characters around that wouldn't care if you died or not. However, most cookies are aware of Shadow Milk Cookie's, shall we say, claim on you.

There are very few things that could actually threaten you, especially with Shadow Milk Cookie monitoring you so closely. He makes the environment around you safer, and he makes sure everyone knows that you are off-limits. Unfortunately he cannot control everything, though he really does try to.

If anything, anything ever puts you in actual danger, he is beside himself with worry and rage. Your soft and sweet dough is not made for battle and danger, regardless of what you might feel. It would take the witches themselves to stop him from tearing apart the lands to ensure your safety. And tear them apart he would. He would carve deep valleys into the ground for you, slice mountains to their base, and raze forests flat if it means you will be safe.

If it's a cookie? Some insignificant act or protest from a foolish mortal, deciding to use you to get his attention? Oh, they'll know hell.

Depending on how much damage they do the punishment will vary, but it won't be pleasant regardless. If they just take you away for a little while, he'll torture them. Ensuring the life they go back to is much harder for them to live through, but he won't kill them. They have to learn their lesson and live to tell the tale so no one is stupid enough to follow their example.

If they hurt you at all, they're dead. Shadow Milk normally makes a show out of any crumbling he does, but when you are involved? He doesn't waste time with any silly shows, they just crumble. No fanfare, no sparkle, just death. They don't deserve anything more than that, not when they've caused you hurt.

Ah, and if there is a threat to you -- silly or not -- he takes it very seriously. His monitoring will increase tenfold, and he does his best to keep you with him at all times. He will not take your safety lightly, not when he adores you so.

If there is a genuine threat to your life, he will do everything in his power to remove it. After the fact, he becomes much more obsessive of your safety. It's almost suffocating for a while, but if you express concern he'll ease up a bit. Though you can feel the anxiety in his body language and the way which he speaks.

[valeisaslut]

do either of them have beef with anyone else in the industry either secretly or very publicly lol

oh you want drama. buckle up.

COLLIDE POPSTAR!READER X ROCKSTAR!ELLIE BEEFS LMAO

you and ellie? you’re literally drama magnets. two beautiful, very deranged celestial bodies orbiting the same flaming sun of pettiness. you can try to be normal. you try to play nice. but it’s in your blood.

ellie’s public beefs:

⭑.ᐟ first of all. donald trump. legendary. iconic. HISTORIC beef. back when the fireflies were first exploding, trump randomly decided to tweet, “i don’t get this ‘ellie williams’ noise. very sad!” and ellie, from her green room mid-tour, tweeted:

“damn. didn’t know hell had wifi. eat my mf strap.”

32.3 million likes. someone screen-printed it onto a shirt. "eat my mf strap" became an iconic quote for the lesbian community. the white house official account blocked her. she framed the tweet and hung it in her LA apartment above some grammys.

⭑.ᐟ then there’s machine gun kelly. he tried to flirt with her once at a fashion week afterparty, and she looked him dead in the eye and said, “i'd rather fuck a broken amp.” he blocked her immediately. she’s still proud. she brings it up unprompted at least once a month.

⭑.ᐟ she also has serious beef with shawn mendes. no one knows why. literally no one. she just refuses to be in the same room as him. if you ask her why, she’ll shrug and say: "his aura is suspicious." dina thinks it’s hilarious. jesse once laughed so hard ellie threatened to kick him out of the band.

⭑.ᐟ with spotify....? they removed her from one curated playlist. she mailed them a written letter that said, simply: "eat shit." they framed it and hung it in the New York office. she's now technically "banned" from the headquarters but still uses her premium account like a menace.

⭑.ᐟ adam levine. he once said that "bands are dead" in an interview and she just responded with a photo of the Fireflies headlining Lollapalooza in front of 80k people. captioned it "damn. missed the funeral."

⭑.ᐟ kanye west. listen. she never said anything directly. but once during a show in chicago, she did a rock cover of Gold Digger and changed the lyrics to: "i ain’t messin’ with no nazi bitch.". went extremely viral. never mentioned it again.

⭑.ᐟ sometimes she will just randomly unfollow and refollow people to cause chaos. in 2023 she unfollowed like half of the Grammy performers and then posted "just had to cleanse my aura real quick" on her story. so mf uncalled for.

your (reader’s) beefs:

you? oh, you are so scary when you want to be. the QUEEN of passive aggressive beef.

⭑.ᐟ you once had a fake-nice beef with a former disney star turned influencer who kept posting those “some of us don’t need features to chart 🧘‍♀️” captions. you responded by dropping a deluxe edition of your album featuring three collabs and an orchestral version and a remix and charted every single one. captioned your post: “thankful for my friends 💕.”people caught on immediately. there were think pieces.

⭑.ᐟ you once got asked to collab with a rapper known for being homophobic (da baby) and you very publicly turned it down by posting an instagram story that said: "i’d rather eat thumbtacks. respectfully."

⭑.ᐟ katy perry said something vaguely homophobic ab you on a podcast once, and when asked about it in an interview, you smiled so sweetly and said, “i thought she was opening a shoe store? i support small businesses tho.” the interviewer had to excuse themselves to laugh.

⭑.ᐟ you hate perez hilton. it’s no secret. once he tried to bait you into drama by tweeting “pop princess y/n getting a little too wild lately?” and you quote-tweeted him with: "who let you out of the nursing home."

⭑.ᐟ your most lowkey beef is with a famous country singer who said “i don’t think pop stars are real musicians.” you have never once acknowledged it publicly. but at your next show you covered Jolene and changed the lyrics to make it about stealing his girlfriend. people understood.

⭑.ᐟ you once got kinda shaded by an "edgy" alt-pop girl for your tour costumes being "too theatrical," so at your next show, you entered the stage in a 40-pound diamond-studded corset on a chariot. you didn’t break character once. the videos are still trending on stan twitter.

⭑.ᐟ GQ photoshopped your waist in a cover shoot without telling you. so you, being the legend you are, posted the raw, unedited pics on instagram with the caption: "i like my waist the way it fucking is. thanks." simple. lethal. a cultural reset.

ellie, naturally, saw it and went absolutely feral in the gq comment section. no emojis. no punctuation. just pure threat: "touch her again and i’m burning your mf offices down"

and privately? you both absolutely despise a HANDFUL of people. yall even keep a list. it’s literally like a famous people burn book. you’re planning to leak it someday just for the drama.

but yeah. despite the occasional beef, the truth is: you two are untouchable. you're the biggest thing in music right now. everyone either wants to collab with you or be you. labels want you, fans worship you. and when you do get hated on, it's so clearly jealousy that you don't even have to respond. you just post a blurry pic kissing ellie backstage and it gets 20M likes overnight.

[goldfades]

“letting them collapse against your chest the second they make it through the door after a hellish day” / “it’s just me now. you don’t have to pretend anymore- just let me take care of you.” / “you always take such good care of me. i’m never not going to jump at the opportunity to return the favour.” — with paige 🥺 (my heart is broken after finding out she’s in concussion protocol 😭)

me too, im praying for a speedy recovery if it is a concussion :( here's a soft fic just for you<3

warnings: hurt to comfort, uconn paige

i feel like this is lowkey word vomit, i was typing it on a diff keyboard i wasnt used to LOL, but lmk what u think

It’s not that Paige ever let the whole world in, just that she was so good at making people think she had. Charismatic, warm, unshakably confident in that quietly magnetic way that pulled cameras and teammates and little girls with Sharpies straight into her orbit. She smiled when she was supposed to, answered every question like it hadn’t already been asked six hundred times. She made twenty-point games look casual. She made pain look invisible.

You knew better.

There were cracks. Not obvious ones. Paige didn’t crack like that, she didn’t shatter under pressure, she tightened. You saw it in the way she walked a little faster on days when she was trying not to think, in the way she curled her fingers into fists at her sides when the pain flared back up in her knee and she didn’t want anyone to notice. You could hear it when she texted you short and late: Still at the gym. Almost done, even when she wasn’t. You’d stopped asking if she was okay. Not because you didn’t care but because she was too good at saying yes.

She was relentless. Every time someone said she’d peaked, she answered with another performance they’d play on loop at camps for years. Every time they whispered about injuries or burnout or lost time, she made herself sharper, stronger, scarier. She’d come back to UConn like a ghost refusing to stay dead and picked up right where she left off: leading, dominating, carrying. The team was good, undoubtedly one of the best but the pressure was brutal. It always landed on her, whether it was fair or not and you knew what that kind of weight could do to someone, even someone like her.

It was easier for Paige to hold up the whole world than to admit she might need to set it down for a second.

Except with you.

You’d learned, over time, how to be her soft place. You didn’t ask for the highlight reel. You didn’t flinch when she wasn’t golden or perfect or poised and she’d stopped pretending with you, mostly. Sometimes she still tried to be a little too composed when she walked through your door after a brutal practice or a media gauntlet or a game where she thought she hadn’t done enough but even then, you could feel it in the way her eyes flicked to you, just for a second, like tell me I don’t have to keep it together anymore.

She hadn’t said it out loud, not yet but you’d gotten good at hearing what she didn’t say. You’d gotten good at Paige.

You heard the key before you heard her.

Just the soft metal jostle in the lock: a sound that shouldn’t make your chest ache but it always did on days like this. It wasn’t loud or frantic. That was the thing. Paige never came in like a storm, she came in like fog. Quiet, creeping, hard to name until it was sitting heavy in your lungs.

You didn’t move right away. You stayed curled on the couch, legs tucked under a blanket, the glow from your laptop painting gentle shadows across the living room. You’d paused whatever show was playing half an hour ago. Not because you lost interest but because your mind had drifted somewhere else, somewhere quieter and heavier. You’d been waiting, not in a dramatic way, just… waiting in that soft way you’d learned to.

The door creaked open. A beat passed. Then another. No footsteps yet, no greeting, no clatter of keys hitting the counter or shoes being kicked off. Just that quiet hum of someone trying to hold it together for five more seconds.

You closed your laptop without looking. Set it gently on the coffee table and pulled the blanket off your legs, letting the chill of the hardwood floor ground you as you stood. You didn’t rush. You never did. Paige didn’t need someone running toward her like she was breaking. She needed space to breathe, she needed space to choose softness.

When you finally saw her, she was still in the doorway. Bag still on her shoulder. Hoodie pulled up over her head like armor. Eyes on the floor.

Your heart cracked a little at the sight. Not in a way that made you want to cry, but in a way that made you want to wrap, in a way that made you want to pull her in and hush the world for a while.

"Hey," you said softly, voice like a feather drifting through candlelight.

She looked up. Slowly. Eyes a little red-rimmed, not quite from crying — Paige didn’t really cry when things hurt. Not first, but there was exhaustion there, the kind that curled under your ribs and made you feel like you couldn’t get a full breath no matter how hard you tried. The kind that didn’t go away just by sleeping.

"Hey," she echoed and her voice was smaller than usual.

You took one slow step toward her. Then another. You didn’t ask what had happened. You didn’t need to.

The game had been ugly, sure but it wasn’t just the loss. It was the press conference afterward, where every question came sharpened with doubt. It was the way Coach’s words hit a little too close. It was the way her body probably ached, not just from tonight, but from every minute she’d pushed through pain and refused to call it that. It was all of it — too much and not enough all at once.

By the time you reached her, she still hadn’t moved.

You slipped your hands under the strap of her bag and slid it off her shoulder. Set it gently by the wall. Then you reached up, fingertips brushing the edge of her hood. She let you pull it down. Her hair was a little damp at the ends, like she hadn’t had time to dry it fully after showering at the facility. You smoothed a few strands back behind her ears. She blinked, slow and heavy.

Then she whispered, like it wasn’t a big deal, like it wasn’t everything. "Can I just... be here for a minute?"

You didn’t answer with words.

You just opened your arms. And Paige — quietly walked into them.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t desperate. She didn’t break down or sob or collapse. She just folded, like she’d been holding herself upright for too long and your body was the first thing that felt soft enough to land on. Her forehead pressed into your collarbone. Her hands slipped around your back and her weight settled into you like an anchor you were more than willing to carry.

You held her there, swaying just slightly, like the rhythm of your breathing could remind her how to find her own. One hand curved over the back of her neck, thumb brushing gentle arcs against the warm skin there. The other splayed against her spine.

Minutes passed. Neither of you moved.

Eventually, you murmured into her hair, "Wanna sit?"

She didn’t answer right away, but you felt her nod against your chest.

You led her gently to the couch, still without letting go. She moved like someone underwater, slow, dragging, tired in a way that sleep couldn’t fix. You sat first, guiding her down with you and she followed without hesitation, legs draping over yours, body curling into your side like it had always belonged there. You pulled the blanket back over both of you.

Her head dropped to your shoulder. You kissed her temple once, then again.

Silence settled between you. The soft, comforting kind.

Eventually, she whispered, voice thin and hoarse, "I don’t know how you do it."

You turned slightly, resting your cheek on top of her head. "Do what, baby?"

"Just know when I’m..." She trailed off, then gave a humorless little laugh. "When I’m not really holding it together."

"Because I pay attention."

She didn’t say anything to that but her hand found yours under the blanket, fingers twining together like muscle memory.

You squeezed gently. "It’s just me now. You don’t have to pretend anymore. Just let me take care of you."

A quiet breath escaped her. Maybe a sigh, maybe a release, or maybe the first sign of the guard slipping.

"You always take such good care of me," she said, so quietly you barely caught it. "I’m never not going to jump at the opportunity to return the favor."

You smiled, but you didn’t tease. There was no need. The thing between you was soft and real and unspoken in all the right ways. You could joke later. You could nudge and laugh and light her up again when her chest wasn’t so heavy but for now, you just held her and let her rest.

Outside, the world kept spinning. Deadlines and expectations and cameras and commentary. All of it could wait.

Inside, it was just this: her body against yours. Her breath steadying. Her hands warm. The slow unravel of tension as she let herself be held, finally, without needing to earn it.