#sapphic reader

[dustyrkives]

Academic Affair

PAIRING: Ada Wong x fem reader

WARNING: RE4r Ada, college AU, age-gap (Ada is 33 while r is 19), modern AU, student r, r is Wesker's fave student, power imbalance, tension, forbidden attraction, professor/student dynamic, parties, Ada kinda lowkey a stalker lmao, GP Ada because I said so! Allusions to sex, r is on a pill, pet names, strangers to paramours and that's about it, I think.

WORDCOUNT: 3.1k

SYNOPSIS: Under the merciless gaze of Professor Wesker, every student fights to meet impossible expectations—except for you. You’re different. You’re his favorite. But when he vanishes for a month-long seminar, his replacement arrives: Professor Wong. Calculated, enigmatic, and dangerously perceptive, she plays a different kind of game—one of quiet intrigue and unspoken challenges.

not proofread

MEN, MINORS DNI

Wesker is a terrifying professor–he makes his students question why the hell did you even take the course.

He is strict, disciplined, and expects perfection from his students with a "survival of the fittest" mentality. Not to mention, his exams are... intense–making you question how the hell you survived the second semester.

Wesker may be the spawn of the devil, a walking terror of a professor...but you are his favorite student.

The atmosphere is tense as Professor Wesker discusses Forensic Biology. In his typical fashion, he wanders around the lecture room, his cold, piercing voice echoing and cutting through the silence. He is wearing all-black attire: a black turtleneck, overcoat, tapered trousers, and oxfords; hair slid back and neatly styled to perfection, mirroring his flawless appearance.

You furiously take note of his insights as he points his laser at the huge monitor, outlining the key points of his discussion. Your eyes snap from the professor clad in black then back to the screen of your laptop before your name echoes in the lecture room.

Your blood runs cold as your peers turn their heads to look at you as the older man's question rings loud and cold–you stand up.

"A body is discovered with high levels of potassium in the blood. Autopsy reports indicate no sign of trauma. What is the most probable cause of death?"

You gulp, "Considering the high potassium levels and lack of trauma, one likely cause is a lethal injection of potassium chloride, which disrupts the heart's electrical activity and induces cardiac arrest. This method is commonly used in euthanasia and executions, as well as in certain homicides designed to mimic natural heart failure."

The room is silent, a flicker of something–satisfaction, perhaps, crosses Wesker's face but it vanishes just as quickly.

He nods slightly, his voice carrying a rare, measured approval.

"A precise and well-reasoned answer. Potassium chloride induces asystole by overwhelming the heart’s ability to maintain its resting potential. A careless investigator might mistake it for a heart attack—yet you, would not." Wesker then glances at the class.

"Let this serve as a reminder: Science does not reward assumptions. Only those who pursue absolute knowledge will succeed. You may all learn from her example."

He referred to you.

A sense of relief and pride swells in your chest as the tension in the room eases slightly, while the rest of the students take mental notes.

As the class comes to an end, the professor make's an announcement.

"I won't be teaching this class for quite some time." The older man pauses. "I'll be attending a team-teaching seminar in Spain–I'll be leaving you under the care of another instructor, Professor Wong."

"When will she start teaching our class?" You ask, out of curiosity.

"Eager to be rid of me?" He mused, and your cheeks blossomed red as you stammer to defend yourself, but the older man cuts you off.

"Tomorrow, " he interjects. "Professor Wong will start tomorrow. I've already made the necessary arrangements, so she will be informed of my decision." Wesker then stacks his lecture modules and secures them against his side. "I'll see you all again next month." He strides out of the door before pausing just an inch before leaving the room.

"Oh, and a reminder," he peers over his shoulder. "If I hear one complaint from Professor Wong in regards to your behavior–I will automatically grade you zero for Midterms, do you all understand?"

"Yes, professor." The class says in unison, and the man leaves.

Professor Wong is a drop-dead gorgeous woman.

Her complexion is smooth, and unblemished, as if untouched by stress or time. Dark hair, cut in a sleek, asymmetrical bob, frames her face with effortless elegance. When she speaks, her voice is low and deliberate, every word measured, every pause intentional—a professor who does not waste breath on the obvious.

Dressed in a deep wine buttoned top, the sleeves rolled to her elbows, showing off her vintage Cartier timepiece. Tapered black trousers and ankle-length black-heeled boots.

Her eyes survey the classroom as if to scan for imperfections within Wesker's class.

"Good morning, everyone." She greets in a cold yet rich velvet tone, "I'm sure Albert has already informed all of you that I will be teaching in place due to his seminary. I'm Professor Wong, Ada Wong."

She takes out the clicker, and the monitor glares on, her eyes snap in your direction, and you flinch at the harshness of her gaze as she continues, "We'll pick up where Wesker has left off." Before letting her gaze linger and tear from you.

You swallow slowly and open your laptop, shaking off the piercing sensation your new professor left you. Compared to Wesker, in which fear is subordinate to him, Professor Wong's class is a breeze–yet still holds an air of authority and expectation. Laid back yet inquisitive, the short-haired professor can also be unpredicted–she'd introduce information and then ask her students, and she'd expect you to expound and articulate.

In class, she rarely raises her voice. She doesn’t need to. A single look from her is enough to silence even the most restless student. Unlike her colleague, Professor Wesker, who demands perfection with a rigid and merciless grip, Professor Wong lures her students into brilliance, challenging them with cryptic questions and moral dilemmas that have no clear answers.

Several minutes later, the class is dismissed.

As you join your peers amidst the shuffling of steps and excitable chatter–you can't shake off the feeling of being watched; upon reaching the doors to the exit, you finally look back to see the new professor's eyes on you.

She holds your gaze for a moment before her lips quirked to a ghost of a smirk. The sight makes your stomach churn as warmth blossoms on your cheeks before you tear your gaze away from the former, finally exiting the lecture room.

The first thing anyone notices about Professor Wong is her presence—unassuming yet impossible to ignore. She moves through the halls of the Forensic Sciences & Human Behavior Department like a whisper, a striking contrast to her colleagues. Where others command attention with volume, she does so with silence, the soft click of her heels enough to draw every eye in the lecture hall.

Her features are delicate yet sharp, an enigma of contrasts. Dark, almond-shaped eyes—intelligent, assessing, always watching—betray no emotion beyond what she allows. If a student dares to meet her gaze, they are left wondering whether she’s amused or simply studying them, filing away their every microexpression for later use. Dressed always in subtle sophistication, her wardrobe rarely strays from fitted blouses, dark trousers, and, on rare occasions, skirts and heels that somehow make no sound when she walks.

"If a criminal believes their actions are justified, are they truly guilty?" she once asked, leaning casually against her desk. No one spoke for a long moment, and then she simply smiled. "Good. You're starting to think."

She never tells her students they are wrong—only that they haven’t thought hard enough.

And somehow, you'd catch yourself hanging on to every word that she utters–her eyes would flit in your direction, gleaming with... intrigue? Expectation?

Approval?

It was impossible to tell, especially from a woman of her caliber.

Professor Wong sits on the edge of her desk, legs crossed, holding a sleek black pen between her fingers. The dim afternoon light filters through the blinds, casting sharp shadows across the room. She surveys her students with that ever-present, unreadable smirk before her gaze settles on one in particular. You.

Shit

"You," You needn't ask for clarification–the way that her gaze pins you down is enough.

Gulping, you stand from your seat, legs shaking from underneath the table. "Yes, professor?"

She tilts her head slightly as if considering you before speaking in that slow, deliberate tone.

"A suspect is brought in for questioning. There’s no physical evidence tying them to the crime, no witnesses, no confession. But something… feels off. They maintain their innocence flawlessly—no nervous tics, no inconsistencies. Yet you’re certain they’re guilty. Tell me—how do you break them?"

Shit, shit, shit–how the fuck do I answer this?

The silence in the room weighs heavy as your peers' eyes focus on you. The older woman quirks a brow, a warning that time is a luxury you don't have.

Stammering, you answer: "I wouldn't try to catch them in a lie. Instead, I'd make them believe they've already been caught." You pause, "I'd try to articulate their perception, have strategically placed evidence in the interrogation room, fake witness statements, subtly mirror their own body language to create subconscious trust. I’d control the environment, guide the conversation until they feel cornered, until they confess… without ever realizing they were never in danger."

The former's lips twitch to a smirk, and there's a flicker of something behind those composed dark brown eyes–then just as it appears, it's gone.

"Clever," She praises, and warmth pools in your bowels, and a chill crawls down your spine.

The classroom is still as her gaze lingers on you, her lips curving into something that is neither approval nor warning, but something in between. The air shifts. The lesson should move on, but for a moment, it doesn’t.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, caught in a game no one else realizes has already begun.

And finally, she breaks the air. "That'll be for today, see you all next meeting." Just like that, the moment passes. The class exhales, the spell broken.

You pack your things and join your peers. As you make your way to the exit, you are met with a familiar feeling of being watched–a sensation that tugs you from behind, without thinking, you look back–and your body freezes.

Professor Wong is only a few feet from you–how the hell did she come near you so fast?

And goodness, she's beautiful up close, and is that her perfume you smell? Wood, cherries, vanilla and spices?

"Wesker was right about you," She starts, snapping you from your stupor. "P-pardon?"

A small smile graces your professor's lips, and a bemused expression dances on her elegant countenance. "You're one of his brightest students." A blush spreads on your cheeks, "H-he said that?"

She chuckles lowly, "I'll be watching you." Your professor says it like a casual remark, but you can hear it—something deeper beneath the words. A challenge. A promise.

You stand there, slack-jawed, as she walks past you–giving you the chance to take another whiff of her subtle yet expensive scent.

And just like that–she has successfully lured you into her game.

It was a Thursday afternoon, class had ended, and you wanted to grab a bite.

The problem? By the time you reached the counter with your favorite drink, you're a dollar short.

"Shit," You curse as you fish for extra change in your bag while the lady merely glares at you impatiently.

Then, a familiar voice: "Let me,"

You bristle as you catch the familiar smell of wood, spices, vanilla, and cherries. You quickly snap your head to the side and your jaw slacks as the short-haired professor hands the lady the bill.

"Y-you didn't have to!" You blurt, face red as she takes your drink, examining it–strawberry milk.

"And let you embarrass yourself?" The former muses as she hands you your drink, "I think not."

"Thanks," you murmur and reluctantly take the drink. "I-I'll pay you back."

A strange smile graces the fair woman's lips. "No need for that." She folds her hands behind her back and leans down to whisper in your ear–your body halts function as her warm breath fans against the outer shell of your ear.

"Just perform well in class." Ada purrs before walking past you.

When you finally come to, you realize that she didn't buy anything...

And true to Ada's request–you repay her by performing well in class and each day goes by, a nagging feeling pesters you.

No, you are not attracted to her, right?

With the way that she carries herself with grace and confidence, her small smile, that fucking smirk–and her praises, oh you're in trouble.

A gasp leaves your lips as you feel her back brush against your front as she gets one of the books atop the university library's shelf. "Here," Ada smoothly says as she hands you the book from behind.

"T-thank you," you squeak as you slowly turn around. The older woman has that blasted smirk on her lips; her arms are crossed, and her stature is relaxed. "You always look like a deer in headlights whenever I'm near you." She husks, "It's rather adorable."

The air suddenly becomes charged–with what? You refuse to acknowledge it.

"W-what?"

Oh, you knew what she meant–but your mouth had always been faster than your brain whenever she's near you.

Her expression relaxes, "Tell your peers that I'll be meeting the class 30 minutes late from our schedule–the topic is short after all, got it?"

"Yes, professor." You clear your throat while Ada rewards you with a nod before turning her heels and walking away from you, knowing you won't be able to tear your gaze away from her–she sways her hips.

Oh, you're so in trouble.

EDM music blasts over the speakers, the lights transition from red, violet, blue and green–bodies pressing, grinding and dancing.

You look around in awe at the after-party of your batch. Midterms ended a week ago, and your peers let loose by partying and drinking. It didn't take long for you to join them on the dance floor with booze in your hand.

And minutes into the dance floor, you feel cold hands touch you through the fabric of your clothes–and despite the smell of smoke and mixed perfumes, you can smell it... smell her.

Your breath hitches as her voice fills your ears.

"Relax," Ada husks, "It's me,"

Quickly, you turn around, and she pulls you flush toward her, and holy shit–she looks good. She wore an asymmetrical bodysuit that showed off the skin on her waist, showing off her obliques, straight-cut jeans, and boots; she didn't look like a student nor a woman in her thirties–she matched with the other students.

"P-professor–" The latter cuts you off by placing an index finger against your lips, and you could've sworn hunger gleamed in those dark brown crevices of hers.

"Shh," Ada purrs, "Can't have you spoiling the fun now, don't we?" Ada leans close, "Dance with me, pretty girl." Momentarily, your body forgets you as its owner as you obey the older woman–your skin tingles with each teasing touch that drives you crazy.

Oh, Ada knew how to play you like a fiddle–and it pleases her that you're attuned to her touches as her pants begin to constrict with a tent growing on her jeans. She makes it known by grinding her hips against yours, allowing you to feel her growing need–and Jesus, she's packing.

And that's enough for you to throw all rational thought out of the window as you quickly drag her to the restroom, locking the room without regard for those needing it, Ada can only smirk devilishly as you lose control, almost as if she wanted it to happen. "Why are you doing this?" You demand through batted breath. Ada doesn't reply. Instead, she stalks toward you, the air becomes tense with anticipation; desire charges the air as Ada backs you against the ledge of the sink.

"I think we both know the answer, doll." Ada rasps as her slender, well-manicured hands wrap around your waist, pressing against you, making you feel the clothed cock protesting in her pants. It took a lot for Ada to grind against your clothed pussy.

"You want me just as much as I want you." She murmurs, her lips brushing against the skin of your neck, her perfume engulfing your senses. "You can't deny it."

Your hands automatically latch onto her back, and Ada revels at your touch. "And quite frankly, I'm getting impatient." She admits and presses a kiss against the available surface of your neck. A gasp leaves your lips, and you throw your head back, giving her more access–and Ada is more than eager to indulge as she gently bites your skin.

"T-then take me."

"Very well," Ada grins, "But not here, I prefer to fuck you in the privacy of my room."

And that she did.

When Ada ravages you in her penthouse suite, she leaves no skin unmarked by her lips and teeth. The bed creaks, mixing with groans and throes of passion as you both release your pent-up desires.

Ada's thrusts are deep and punishing, leaving no room for doubt that you're now hers, painting your wall white with her cum as she fucks you into her sheets, leaving you whimpering and begging for more.

The next morning, you are left limping with bites and bruises all over your shoulders, breasts, and thighs while her back is full of your scratch marks.

Ada drove you back to your dorm the next morning, a vile grin danced on your lips as she had to help you out of her Ferrari.

Let's just say that after your night with the professor–you both were insatiable. She'd sent you the filthiest things to your phone ranging from her physique to her cock. Ada would sneak you into her office in the late hours of school time just to fuck you or accompany her while she checks and grades the worksheets of your batch.

Like now, for example. Ada ordered you to bring the worksheets of your section to her office quarter before lunchtime ends.

"Ah, thank you, darling." Your paramour smiles as you place the curated papers atop her desk. "Are you free tonight?" Ada queries.

"Why?" You arch a brow with a playful smile as she circles the table and pulls you to her, "Because I want to have dinner with you." The older woman murmurs before leaning down to your left ear, her voice dropping an octave lower.

"And perhaps, have you for dessert later, at my place?"

A giggle leaves your lips as you wrap your arms around her neck, "Sounds perfect," You whisper before pecking her lips.

On cue, her office door swings open, and you instinctively remove yourself from the older woman as–WESKER???

You thought he was coming back to teach the class next week???

"Welcome back, Albert." Ada greets cooly as she fixes her single-lapel blazer. "Ada," He greets as his eyes snap between the two of you, you excuse yourself from the two professors, shutting the door behind you.

The blonde older man turns to Ada with his arms crossed against his chest, looking at her with scrutiny and prejudice. "Of all the people you can be with, you chose my favorite student?"

Ada merely strides to her office chair and sits down, crossing one leg over the other. She leans back slightly, tapping her manicured fingers against the desk as her smirk deepens. Then, with a knowing glance in Wesker’s direction.

"What can I say, Wesker? I have excellent taste."

[ghoulfriendfangs]

•─ Midsummer ☾ Masquerade ─•

Day 4: Group Sex with Iliad and Lilac

{wc: ~400} {top/dom!mc, top/dom!Lilac, bottom/sub!Iliad, double teaming, intended for femme readers but I can’t stop anyone from reading lol}

Iliad wants to push herself to new limits

This fic is a part of @the-midsummer-masquerade

    "The Meeting Room" is a popular spot at the masquerade. Couples and singles alike go here to find new playmates. It's a wonderful way to meet new people, as well as spice things up for once.

     You wander the room, occasionally chatting with prospective dates, but none ignite that special spark.

     Until you find Iliad and Lilac.

     Iliad, the taller of the two, lets the sweet looking Lilac handle most of the talking. Iliad has deep blue hair like the ocean, and looks at you like you're a marble sculpture. She's not too shabby herself, with large muscles and scars from battle. But it's covered by a dress made with beautiful enchanted flowers. The same flowers that mask her face. Lilac has soft, purple hair in a bob, and her dress makes her look like a little dove. The mask gives her her beak.

     "You two are beautiful."

     Lilac giggles in response, "I know." Even Iliad smiles at that.

     "What are you two looking for?"

     "Oh, well, Iliad's always wanted to try taking two at once, and I think she'd look adorable being double teamed!"

     Iliad blushes, but nods along. "It would be a test of my abilities to try to please two partners at once. I will not rest until you and my lover are satisfied."

     Iliad did not undress, she merely gathered the material of her dress to expose her ass. Lilac stared at it. For_ quite a while. "Mmm. Pretty."

     "Uh, Lilac?"

     "Oh, sorry_" she resumes preparing her strap, rubbing lube over the shaft. It's purple, like her hair. Must be her favorite color.

     "Lilac, is purple your favorite color?"

     "No. It's red."

  …..

      Iliad begins by tracing her tongue over your own length, before kissing the tip and taking it in her mouth. She works slow. Expertly. Confident that she can please you.

     "Could you go faster?"

     She looks at you a bit irritated. "Please, let me set the pace. I have a practiced technique, you won't regret it."

     Gods, you don't. The way she runs her tongue over your head, teasing the slit before taking your length. It's hot.

     Lilac wraps her arms around her lover, kissing her back as she begins to insert herself into Iliad. Iliad pulls off you just long enough so lilac can hear her moans, before returning to your pleasure. 

     You suspect that this little test of Iliad's will be easy for her. You already feel as if you're indulging in the nectar of the gods, a pleasure unfit for mortals.

[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

[arrja]

"Shhh... your only job here is to take it."

.

.

Femkuna x yn (wlw)

(You people can't judge me, it's that time of the month again)

[valeisaslut]

Reader asking Ellie to record them fucking, and Ellie ends up getting really into it (love your writing btw!! 💋💋)

say hi to the camera ─⭑.

⭒ word count: 3.6k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ content warnings: film student top!ellie x sub!reader, oral sex (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), strap-on (r!receiving), pussy slapping, hair pulling, filming kink, AFAB!reader, cursing, pet names, rough sex, degradation + praise, MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

࿐not part of the collide au (rip my absolute queens... this actually hurt my SOUL but hey sometimes we gotta go out of our comfort zone and get feral for... the craft)

you said it as a joke.

but it landed like a command.

it happens halfway through straddling her on the couch, your body already buzzing from the way she’s kissing you—slow and deep, like she’s trying to memorize your mouth. her palms are hot under your shirt, fingertips dragging slow up your ribs.

you lean back just enough to catch your breath, grin sharp as ever.

"you should record this next time."

her lips pause at your throat. she stays there, a little shocked, mouth barely grazing your skin, and then—voice low, amused:

"you want me to record you while i fuck you?"

you shrug, all fake casual, even though your pulse jumps.

"i mean… why not? could be hot."

ellie pulls back just enough to look at you. blinks once. and then she grins—all trouble. her hands drag down your sides, deliberate now, like she’s already directing the first shot.

"you want a sex tape, baby?"

your smile widens. "just for me. like, when you're gone late working on a project and i’m in bed missing you."

she groans. like, actual full-body groan. throws her head back against the couch, rubs a hand over her face like you’ve just ruined her life.

"jesus fucking christ. you’re evil."

you tilt your head. "you love it."

her gaze snaps back to you—darker now, her pupils blown wide, her lip caught between her teeth.

"i will story-board the fuck out of it. lighting. blocking. sound. i'll give you a score."

"you’re such a nerd."

“and you’re the one asking a film major to make a porno, so who’s the real nerd here?”

you laugh, leaning in to kiss her, grinding down on her lap.

“bet you’d narrate the whole thing like, ‘scene one—fucking my girlfriend. interior. night. single cam. practical lighting.’”

she chokes on a laugh, then groans, fingers digging into your hips. “shut the fuck up.”

“no, seriously—‘fade in: slut on couch. extreme close-up. one long take. raw as hell.’”

“i’m gonna ruin you,” she growls, and this time it’s not a joke—rough, all threat and promise.

you just smirk, mouth barely brushing hers.

“yeah, but make it auteur.”

she doesn’t bring it up again for a week. you think she’s forgotten, or maybe it was just talk—a shared fantasy that slipped between the couch cushions and the memory of her mouth on your neck.

but then it’s saturday night. you’re fresh from the shower, hair damp and clinging to your neck, skin still warm, still smelling like her soap. you’re wearing her old gray t-shirt—soft, stretched, worn in the best way—and nothing underneath.

ellie’s already in the bedroom. the lights are low, shadows moving slow across the walls. deftones plays from the speaker—just enough to feel in your ribs, not loud enough to distract.

when you step into the room, you freeze. she’s sprawled out on the bed in a black tank top and boxers, one knee bent, and a camera aimed straight at you.

not her phone. not some propped-up, shaky little attempt at homemade porn. a real camera—matte black, compact, handheld, with a flip-out screen angled toward her face and that unmistakable red recording light already glowing steady.

the kind of camera that says she’s thought about this. planned it. maybe even fantasized about how she’d frame you, light you, direct you. and now you’re here. standing in the doorway, already caught in the first shot.

“wait,” you say, blinking. “are you for real?”

she doesn’t even flinch. just looks up from behind it and grins, wide and wolfish.

“oh, i’m for real,” she says, voice warm and smug.

you snort, tugging the hem of your shirt down instinctively, "with a real fucking camera?"

"yeah, wanna see it in 4K" she responds, tilting it, lens still trained on you. "why? don’t get all shy on me now, babe. you're the one who said record it."

“yeah,” you arch a brow. “i just didn’t think i was dating a one-woman a24 production crew.”

“you’re not,” she says, adjusting the zoom. “you’re dating a visionary.”

you try not to laugh but fail.“you look like a lesbian scorsese.”

“and you look like the hottest thing i’ve ever filmed,” she says, voice thick, thumb adjusting the focus. “so maybe be nice to your director.”

you stay where you are for a second. let her film you standing still. let her zoom in the curve of your thighs, the way the shirt clings to your chest, the outline of your nipples through the fabric. the tension builds between frames, between your breaths.

“you’re actually committing to this?” you ask, voice softer now, a little breathless, as if the heat in the room just kicked up a notch.

“baby,” she says, adjusting the focus without even looking away, “i’ve been storyboarding this in my head since before we even spoke.”

her voice is calm, almost sweet—like it’s not the filthiest thing she’s ever admitted.

“freak,” you mutter, but you’re smiling, laughing again—breathier this time. your body already giving in. you step closer, hips loose, eyes locked on hers.

ellie lifts the camera a little higher, tracks the shift of your body as if she’s afraid to miss a second.

“show me,” she whispers, tone low but teasing. “come on, give me a show.”

and you give her one. you lift the hem of the shirt slowly. not for her—for the lens. you know exactly how this is going to look in playback. the glow of your skin in this light. the way your body starts to reveal itself, line by line.

you pull it over your head and let it drop to the floor, nipples stiffening in the cold air. your stomach tenses under her gaze, and you don’t try to hide the shine between your thighs.

she makes a noise—somewhere between a sigh and a curse—and the camera dips for half a second, like her hand twitched. you see her throat bob as she swallows.

you know that look. she’s not sure whether to keep filming or drop the thing entirely and fall to her knees.

and god, it turns you on even more.

"still rolling?" you ask, voice sugar-laced, cocky.

ellie nods once, "yeah. fucking hell, yeah."

you step closer, slower this time. not acting. not pretending. this isn’t performance—it’s instinct. it’s power. the way she’s looking at you, mouth parted, eyes glazed behind the viewfinder. you know she’s turned on before she’s even touched you.

“you better not cut the part where i called you a pervy little director,” you tease, all teeth.

ellie lowers the camera just enough to meet your eyes, flushed and slightly out of breath. hand still holding the lens like a lifeline.

“cut it?” she says. “i’m putting it in the trailer.”

you grin. shift your weight, your thighs brushing.

“turn around,” she says next, and it’s not a suggestion.

it’s gravel and gravity, all command. her voice has slipped into that other place—firm, sure, focused. all director mode.

you smirk but do what she says. slowly, hips swaying. your hands drag down your own waist as you pivot, and when your back is to her, you arch slightly—just enough. let her see the full curve of your ass, the slick glinting between your thighs.

behind you, there’s a sharp exhale.

"jesus christ," she mutters. then the soft mechanical buzz of her adjusting the zoom.

you don’t need to see her to know she’s locked in. her eyes drinking in every inch, the red light on the camera the only thing keeping her from touching you already.

you glance back lazily. “so, you gonna keep filming, or are you gonna fuck me?”

and that’s it.

the camera dips. her body snaps to attention like it’s muscle memory.

you’re pulled back towards the bed in one smooth movement—no hesitation. the backs of your knees hit the mattress and you drop, your body folding back on your elbows, legs parting without a hint of shame.

ellie stands over you, camera raised.

“holy shit,” she mutters.

she brings the camera lower, letting it drink you in, between your legs, over the slick. the way your chest rises and falls, nipples peaked, skin glowing.

“look at you,” she says. “you’re already dripping, just from being filmed.”

you shift, thighs tightening, and she catches the movement.

"such a fucking dirty girl," she mutters, one hand ghosting over your stomach.

she places the camera down on the nightstand, still rolling, still angled at your spread legs and heaving chest. her focus is so fucking precise it sends a wave of arousal through you all on its own.

and then ellie kneels between your legs like it’s her altar.

angel starts playing low in the background, slow and dark.

has she even prepped the soundtrack? you wonder for a second, half-laugh, half-moan.

(of course she did.)

she starts with your knee. presses her mouth there, slow and warm, a kiss that lingers just a second too long before she trails it upward. her hands follow—one curling firm around your thigh like she owns it, the other gliding up the center of your stomach, dragging heat in its wake.

she slips her palm higher, sliding between your ribs, under the soft weight of your breast.

her thumb brushes over your nipple and you gasp, chest lifting into her hand like you’ve forgotten how to do anything else but respond.

"you feel that?" she murmurs, voice low, like it’s just for you even though the camera’s still blinking red. "your heart’s beating so fucking fast."

you open your mouth to say something smart, something flirty, but then she’s kissing up your thigh again and the thought dies on your tongue.

she reaches your stomach, then your sternum, then your collarbone—and instead of diving down immediately, she pauses. tilts her head. looks at you.

and kisses you.

hot and deep, all tongue and teeth. one of those messy, all-consuming kisses that steals the breath right out of your lungs.

you moan into it—she swallows the sound greedily. her fingers are already moving again. one circling your nipple, the other caressing your side.

she pulls back just enough to speak, her lips grazing your cheek, then your jaw.

"you're perfect" she says, kissing beneath your ear, down your throat, impossibly reverent.

your hips roll up involuntarily, and she smiles against your collarbone.

"getting impatient, baby?"

"ellie—fuck—"

she chuckles. not unsympathetic—just pleased. her mouth finds your nipple next, tongue dragging over it slow, flicking, then sucking it into the heat of her mouth. her other hand moves to your other breast, squeezes gently, then rougher, thumb teasing over the tip until you whine.

"god, these tits," she mumbles against your chest, "camera’s not even doing them justice."

your back arches when her palm lands flat on your stomach, sliding lower, past your hip, fingers teasing the edge of your thigh.

"ellie," you gasp again, helpless this time.

she lets your nipple go with a soft, wet pop. looks up at you from your chest, mouth slick, green eyes lit up with that impossible mix of her—tender and ravenous, as if she wants to worship you and devour you in the same breath.

she shifts downward, dragging her tongue along the slope of your breast, down your stomach, until she’s eye level with your pussy. you’re throbbing, already wrecked, thighs trembling just from the anticipation of her mouth.

she glances at the nightstand, double-checking the angle like it matters. then brings her fingers to your folds, spreading you open with both thumbs, totally entranced by the sight.

“say hi to the camera, baby,” she teases, looking up at you.

and then, without warning, her tongue drags a slow, devastating stripe from your entrance to your clit.

you moan—loud, raw, helpless, trying to lift your hips but her free hand is already there, pressing you down into the mattress.

"f-fuck!" you whimper, voice cracking.

"that's right," she murmurs, licking again. "let it hear every fuckin’ sound."

she starts working you in earnest now—tongue circling your clit in tight, practiced spirals, her mouth warm and greedy. she moans against you, like the taste of you is enough to drive her insane. you can feel every vibration down to your toes.

your hands are tangled in her hair, thighs wide open, whole body arching into her mouth. she slips one hand between your legs and slides a finger inside—curling just enough to make your spine seize.

"holy shit," you gasp. "oh my god—Ellie—"

"more," she whispers against your clit, sliding in a second finger "let it see how messy you get for it."

and then she reaches back—without stopping—grabs the camera from the nightstand with her free hand, flips the screen toward you, and holds it low between your bodies. the image blinks into view—a live, unfiltered shot: your pussy stretched around her fingers, your mouth agape and brows furrowed, your thighs shaking with every thrust.

“you seeing this, baby?” she mutters, eyes flicking between you and the viewfinder. “fuck, look at you.”

and god—you do. you watch yourself fall apart in real time, every wet sound, every twitch of your stomach from overstimulation, every pump of her fingers, every gasp on full display. like it’s art, like it’s proof.

and it’s probably the filthiest, most turned on you have ever felt in your life.

its holy and obscene at the same time—your body laid bare, her fingers deep inside you, your face twisted with pleasure, and all of it immortalized in perfect footage.

you can’t look away. neither can she.

"ellie—please—I’m gonna—"

"do it," she growls, "come f’me, come for the camera."

you come with a cry that splits the room, loud, shaking. your thighs squeeze around her hand and your back lifts off the mattress, body wrung out like a rag.

she doesn’t stop, just slows her pace, works you through it. you’re trembling when she finally pulls away, kisses your thigh, and sits back with the camera resting on her bent knee. she lifts it, points it at your face.

you’re flushed, sweaty. lying in a wrecked halo of your own making.

“so damn perfect like this” she mutters, voice a rasp. "you want more?"

you nod, chest heaving.

"words."

"yes," you whisper. then louder, like she needs to hear it. like the camera does, too. "yes. fuck, yes. please fuck me."

and she grins like the devil.

she tosses the camera onto the nightstand—still recording, angled just right, lens slightly askew—but it only makes it hotter, messy, real. something she’ll watch for hours with her hand down her boxers.

she doesn’t say anything as she crosses the room, opens the drawer, and pulls out the harness. it’s not slow or performative. it’s practiced, casual. she straps it over her black boxers with one hand, the other slicking lube over the thick purple silicone cock. it gleams in the low light, catching the flash of the camera’s red recording dot.

you’re already moving, your body shifting on instinct—onto your hands and knees, face buried in the sheets, ass high in the air like it’s muscle memory.

ellie looks at you and lets out a sound from deep in her throat. almost a laugh, mostly a groan.“stay just like that.”

she climbs behind you, smooth and silent. spreads your cheeks with both hands and groans when she sees how soaked you are.

"fuck, baby. you made a whole fuckin' mess back here."

"ellie—"

she leans down, kissing the small of your back, then bites your ass, playful and sharp. one hand grips your hip, the other slides between your legs—and she slaps your pussy once, just enough to make you jolt and whine. it’s wet, loud, dirty.

she groans at the sound. "jesus. dripping."

then she drags the head of the strap between your folds, slow and heavy.

"you ready for it?"

you nod frantically, pressing your face into the mattress.

“say it.”

“please fuck me. please, i want it. i need it so bad—”

she wanted to draw it out—make you beg, make you squirm—but she’s just as wrecked as you are, barely holding it together. so when she finally thrusts in, it’s with one deep, steady stroke that knocks the air straight out of your lungs.

you gasp, choking. “jesus christ!—”

“god, look at that,” she breathes, pulling back, watching the way you stretch and suck her back in with the next thrust. “you’re fuckin’ swallowing it.”

her hands find your hips. she sets a brutal rhythm, dragging you back onto her cock with every thrust, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing off the walls. the sound of your moans, the slap of her thighs against your ass, the headboard slamming the wall—it’s filthy.

she leans forward, chest pressed to your back, and wraps one hand around your breast, squeezing, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you whine. her other hand tangles in your hair and yanks your head back.

“you like getting fucked like this?” she hisses in your ear. “like a toy on display?”

“yes—fuck, yes—”

“touch yourself.”

you obey instantly. one hand between your legs, circling your clit in frantic, desperate little motions while she fucks you from behind like she’s trying to split you in two.

you notice that closer is softly but steadily playing, and the camera’s still rolling, capturing everything. the curve of your ass, the tremble in your thighs, the way your body jerks every time she bottoms out.

ellie groans like she feels it too—because she does. she’s grinding against the base of the strap, hungry and relentless, chasing the friction like she’s starved for it. the harness is soaked, her boxers nearly translucent with how wet she is, and every time she thrusts into you, the base rubs right against her clit.

“you gonna come like this?” she pants. “gonna soak my dick like a good little slut?”

“yes—yes—fuck, ellie, i’m gonna—”

“say it.”

“i’m your slut,” you cry out. “i'm your fucking slut—”

and right then, without missing a beat, she grabs the camera off the nightstand, angles it behind you. the lens catches the mess of your ass bouncing against her hips, the wet slap of skin on skin, the slick sound of your cunt stretching around the purple silicone.

and then she slaps your ass, hard. loud enough to echo through the room.

"fuck!" you yelp, back arching, legs shaking violently.

and you come like a landslide. body seizing, muscles locking, then breaking all at once as you scream into the mattress. it rolls through you in waves, loud and long, your thighs trembling, fingers still working yourself as you ride it out.

you feel it when she starts to lose it—her rhythm falters, hips stutter, breath hitching into short, high little gasps. her fingers dig into your waist and she presses forward, deeper, harder, her chest flush to your back like she’s trying to crawl inside you.

“fuck—fuck, baby—i’m—”

her voice cracks, and then she whines—high and helpless, the kind of sound you didn’t know she could make. desperate and slutty and fucking perfect. her whole body goes taut, then shudders, her thighs shaking as she ruts through it. she comes with her face buried in your shoulder, teeth clenched, breath shivering.

the base of the strap is slick and messy between you now, but she grinding against the harness like it’s not enough, never enough. she groans into your skin, broken and dazed, and you can feel her heart pounding against your back.

and when she pulls out, it’s slow and careful, hands suddenly tender where they'd just been rough. she leans forward and kisses your spine—once, then again—her breath hot and uneven against your skin.

“you okay?” she murmurs, palm sliding up your back in soft, grounding strokes.

you nod, barely able to form the word. “better than okay.”

she laughs, quiet and breathless, into your shoulder. a little dazed, wrecked herself.

she rolls you onto your back, her hand never leaving your skin, and collapses beside you. the room is humid with sex, thick with sweat, heat and the echo of everything that just happened. the air itself feels heavy, slow.

in her hand, the camera is still rolling. its red light blinks steadily, casting a faint glow over the two of you.

ellie flips the screen towards herself, then turns the lens on you—zooming in dramatically on your wrecked face.

“say hi, baby” she teases, still catching her breath.

you blink up at the lens, dazed. hair a disaster. lips kiss-bruised. eyes glassy like you’ve just returned from the dead.

“hi,” you mumble, grinning like a fool, “i just got fucked into the stratosphere.”

ellie then pans the camera to her own face—sweaty, flushed, hair sticking to her forehead—and raises both brows like she’s in a documentary.

“filmmaker. method actor. strap goat. i do it all.”

you burst out laughing, weakly swatting at her.

she grins, crooked and proud, turning the camera back to you. “and you just won best actress in a leading role, doll.”

“so, what’s the title?” you ask, giggling into the pillow.

ellie snorts—eyes gleaming like she just won an oscar and knocked someone out in the same damn night. she adjusts the angle, tilts the camera so you’re both in the frame: flushed, sweaty, radiant, completely ruined.

then, with the most serious voice she can manage, she deadpans to the lens—

“the slut and the lesbian scorsese.”

you wheeze. “shut the fuck up.”

“already submitted to sundance, actually.”

“you’re insufferable.”

“director’s cut drops next week.”

you try to slap her but miss—too sore, too high on her, too in love. she just laughs, smug and glowing, and zooms in one last time on your face.

“five stars,” she murmurs, “would absolutely fuck again.”

⭒ perm taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <3): @talyaisvalslutsoldier @miajooz @andiemiaswife @mayfldss @sewithinsouls @coastalwilliams @hotpinkskitties @ssijht @pleasejoel @pariiissssssss @liddy333 @beeisscaredofbees @d1catwhisperer @the-sick-habit @elliescoquettegirl @elliewilliams-wife @yueluv3rrrr @your-eternal-muse @ellies-real-wife @katherinesmirnova @ellies-moth-to-a-flame @thxtmarvelchick @natscloset @lesbiansreverywhere @2against3 @wwefan2002 @ilahrawr @harmonib @piastorys @azteriarizz @starincarnated @natssgf @ukissmyfaceinacrowdedroom @iadorefineshyt @claudiajacobs @urmomssideh0e @kingofeyeliner @womenlover0 @ferxanda @imunpunishable @elliewilliamsloverrrrrrrr @bambi-luvs @maru0uu @mikellie @gold-dustwomxn @nramv

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ omg… first fic NOT set in the collide au in literal MONTHS and it feels SO weird but soooo good to write something different omfg 😭 rockstar!ellie and popstar!reader yall still haunt me everyday. my favorite lesbians for the rest of the eternity. i’ve missed this kind of chaos. huge love and tysm to my gorg mootie who sent this amazing request before i even started collide—you live in my brain rent free forever bby!

i might play around with a few more fics + requests before launching the next big series i’ve been outlining (👀), so stay tuned babes. ily all dearly ♡

Please leave a comment if you’re interested in being on my perm taglist!

credits for divider: @cafekitsune <3 – images from pinterest - edited by me

[vvampirelust]

mm callin sevika mommy for the first time out of nowhere while she’s fucking u… ur lost in the moment and it comes and she stops moving out of shock…. then she starts again but harder, faster, teasin u like “what’d you call me, baby? let me hear you again, mama?”

thinking thoughts!!!

meow

The laugh Sevika lets out is downright evil. She’s paused the movement of her hips, her dick still inside your cunt, so deep yet unmoving. You almost regret letting that stupid little word slipping past your lips. “What’d you just call me?,” her tone is mocking, you can feel the smirk tugging at her lips, “Let me hear it, doll. Say it again.”Sevika punctuates her words with a sharp, rough snap of her hips, forcing her cock deeper than you thought possible.

Your eye’s squeeze shut, tears teasing your waterline, feeling like you’ve been punched. You cry out, “Mommy!” it’s pathetic, each syllable broken into weak sobs, “I- I need you, mama, please.” Sevika’s broke you, leaving you a babbling little mess, reducing you to nothing but a toy she loves to play with.

Since that word passed your lips, she fucks you with no remorse, as if you were fuelling the fire within her. Sevika grips your thighs hard enough to bruise and forces your legs up against your chest. Her thrusts are harsh, unforgiving as she ruts her hips, over and over practically shoving her dick into your cunt. “Yeah, baby? Need your mommy’s dick, huh? Fuck, you’re taking it so good,” she seethes, teeth gritted, watching your abused pussy sucking in her cock so eagerly. “Come on, girl. Whose cunt is this?”

A loud smack echoes with each thrust, Sevika’s hips slapping against your thighs. Your eyes are rolled so far back into your skull, all you can see is the bright flashes of light from the amount of pleasure you’re being given. “Yours, mama,” you mewl, voice teetering on a scream, “Mommy i’m yours, all yours, please please, mama don’t stop.” You’re rambling, fucked completely and utterly dumb, and Sevika loves it. If she could fuck you harder, she would, and she tries. Sevika drops her weight on you, bucking her hips, making sure you feel her deep inside you.

“You’re such a fucking whore,” she spits, “All mine. So good for your mama.”

[meganegatari]

You should definitely write for Vi bc oml she’s so fine 😮‍💨

DO U EVEN KNOW THE WAY IM TWEAKIN OVER HER like omfg. my poor moots getting bombarded with fucking piles of edits upon edits of her and my thirsty comments...yeah...i gotchu, you don't needa ask me twice ♡ tbh feel like this is one of the better short smutty thingies i've written, lol. it was really fun.

nsfw drabble—dom!vi + spit kink. originally i was gonna make this three smaller blurbs, but decided to just smash em all into one longer drabble situation. cw: praise, bossy vi, finger sucking (r! receiving), oral (v! receiving), vi bush mention RAHHHH, yapping... yk how it is by now. + 1.1k wc.

you were gazing up at her with watery eyes, kneeling by vi's seated form, trying your hardest to ignore the deafening ache between your thighs.

vi is loving, and she knows how to treat you well. she always provides you with tons of care and happiness, however—she also possesses a dirty side to her.

a bandaged hand swipes at the bottom of your chin, her thumb prodding at your pursed lips. there was a smirk playing on her scarred lips, her powder-blue eyes twinkling with pure lust at the scenario playing out before her.

“open.” she says roughly, and who are you to deny her? you were willing to take anything she'd give you, so you obediently part your lips, allowing her to fully push her digit inside your hot mouth.

almost instinctively, your puffy lips wrap around her thumb and you begin to suck, your eyes rolling ever so slightly at the taste of her salted skin. she hums, “atta girl—keep going. just like that, until i say you can stop, alright?” you open your eyes and nod in approval, wishing to commit her expression to memory.

see, vi wasn't one of those mean, degrading doms with an icy exterior who get off on hurting you an excessive amount, and in moments like this where she's got you in a position of submission under her, her natural “switchiness” peeks through. you see it in the way her throat bobs as she swallows, her unsteady, shallow breathing coming out in rasps, and the distinct furrow in her flaming brows while she struggles to maintain eye contact. regardless, you both enjoy toying around with various dynamics, she makes it fun.

you get lost in a daydream while staring into her eyes, but are startled out of it when she strongly presses down on your wet tongue, and pushes her thumb further inward until you gag.

it surprises you, but you know she would never overdo things. tears well up in your eyes, their presence only widening her voracious grin.

then she soothes, her now-soft voice caressing your ears, “exactly, just like that. good job, baby. you're so perfect f'me—yeahhh.” she continues rolling her thumb around your wet muscle, every so often dragging the pad of her finger over the ridges of your teeth, then pushing experimentally up against the roof of your mouth.

saliva has been gathering all this time, and she hasn't given you a moment to swallow it, so it dribbles out of your mouth and down your chin, decorating your chest as it slides down your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps along its path.

her face gets impossibly redder as she observes the sight, still while playing with—rather, using—your mouth. her movements speed up a touch, and she triggers your gag reflex once more before abruptly stopping. she pulls her hand out of your mouth with a pop, and throws her head back as she tries to steady her breathing. “you're so fuckin’ hot, god—i can't.”

you smile up at her, reveling in her break of character and being pleased with yourself. she's panting, and examines her hand; it's shiny and dripping with your spit, she's mesmerized by the sparkle it emits in the low light. her periwinkle eyes gloss over and suddenly there's a flash of fabric flying by, and you realize she has undressed herself in one fluid motion, throwing everything on her bottom half across the room. she’s so desperate, you can’t help but sneer at her horny distress, even though technically you were the one being overpowered.

your eyes drop, meeting a wild tangle of vermillion and crimson, her muscular thighs separating east and west to make space for you.

she leans back and gently nudges your head towards her tender, drooling core, her chest heaving at the way you're just melting under her touch. turning to jelly, you let her guide you where she wants. needs.

vi groans quietly, her breath hitching, “c'mon angel, you know what to do.” and you very much did. with her assistance, you advance and bury your face in her center, tongue finding her scarlet pearl—twitching and ready for you to obliterate.

you flick, you suck, and you moan at the heavenly taste of her essence, revel in the noises she's producing above you. she pulls you further in, bucking her hips frantically to chase your skilled mouth. you push your tongue inside her quivering hole as far as it'll go, taking as much of her in your mouth as you can, and ignoring the lack of oxygen you're experiencing—you would be more than pleased if you were lucky enough to die this way.

she's watching you intently through half-lidded eyes, chewing on her rosy lips. when you meet her gaze from in between her legs, her face contorts and she releases a guttural whine, more slick leaking from her and filling your hard-at-work mouth.

her grip on your hair tightens and her abs tense, providing you with an image that's worthy of a climax just on its own. her head falls back, her lips parting to allow for pretty, high pitched and pathetic pleas to grace your ears. “ple—please baby, just like that. you're so fuckin' good, don't you dare stop—ah!”

without any warning she makes a vulgar mess of your face, the vice grip on your crown causing you to wince, but just as she requests, you don't dare move.

you tilt your head to get a better angle, practically making out with her swollen pussy. you drink up her cum, the near-sickly sweetness clouding your mind, coating your thoughts in a drunken haze.

the high is rippling through her at such an intensity her loud moans are replaced with pornographic whimpers, the sensations utterly ruining her. she squirms and arches, caging your head between her thighs until she gasps.

"hah—okay, okay, oh—fuck.” she stutters while she pushes you away, the tremor in her body evident. you sit back and examine your work, feeling proud of yourself, her fucked-out condition proving you did a good job.

she's sprawled on the bed like a starfish, still trying to slow her racing heart but manages to chuckle, basking in the aftershocks of a mind-melting session.

her words are slurred, yet satisfied. “did so good, that was so good…love your mouth s'much babe.”

you guffaw, and throw at her through chuckles, “i know, i am the best.” that sends her into a fit of giggles as well, and once she's calmed down she confirms.

“yeah, you really are.”

thanks for reading! comments, reblogs, and asks are appreciated more than you know ♡ if you'd like to be tagged in future works, fill out the form here! until next time ;)

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[sevsgiirl]

hi! can you write sevika with a shy virgin femme reader? i think they would be cute!

— carve your name into my bedpost.

sevika week 2025: first time, day 2.

synopsis: after nearly a year, you were still wary about disclosing your lack of sexual experience with sevika in fear of disappointment. but she doesn’t mind. plus first time for everything right?

word count: 3k.

tags: soft dom!sevika, sub!reader, loss of virginity, choking, strap-ons referred to as cock, oral sex.

note: thank you so much for the req, anon! luckily your req matched the prompt for day 2 of sevika week so I just had to use it. you were probably expecting something more cute and wholesome and this might’ve deviated from that a little bit 😅 nevertheless, I hope you like it!

you never wanted to keep secrets from her.

you knew damn good and well it wouldn’t take long before sevika found out your dirty little secret - mostly because you didn’t do that great of a job at hiding it anyways.

in hindsight, you can see why she would think you had an aversion to her at this point. with you constantly dodging moments where you felt like things were becoming a bit too heated, pulling away just in time when you felt like the kisses grew hot and heavy - all of that just to avoid the one thing you felt like you weren’t ready for.

losing your virginity.

it seemed like such a silly thing to fuss over but it means a lot to you. you weren’t the type to wait until marriage but it tethered the line of something similar - you yearned for a connection before you even thought of getting to that stage with someone.

but it’s close to almost a year since you and sevika got together, and you’re actually surprised sevika was so patient in holding off sex with you until she knew you were ready.

it’s a well known fact that between the two of you, sevika was always the more experienced one - from the age all the way to the day she approached you like she had nothing to lose, sevika maneuvered through your entire relationship like it was familiar to her right from the very beginning.

unlike you, you’ve always been squeamish. about everything. you were non confrontational when it came to others and you had a more calm and collected way of handling matters in your life compared to sevika who was always more straightforward.

and you liked it because it balanced the two of you out. she was never impatient with you, she took her time in figuring out the inner workings of your mind and behavior.

it was in those moments of consideration and patience that you realized that damn, she was the one. because it wasn’t often you came across partners who were as tolerant as her, who in spite of your clumsiness and indecisiveness, she was always understanding.

that’s why when your one year anniversary neared, you debated over the idea many times before you came to the conclusion that if you were going to lose your virginity to someone - it was going to be her.

it was nerve wracking because not only was it your first time being intimate with sevika, it was your first time being intimate with anyone. ever.

you weren’t as skilled or knowledgeable with sex as sevika so of course, it was only understandable to be scared that you might fuck things up the first time.

but it was either now or never, because you knew if you keep pending it off god knows it’ll take until your next anniversary before you bring it up again, and although you don’t doubt sevika would be willing to wait for you, deep down you knew you were going to crack regardless.

so when the time came and sevika took you to a nice picnic date where she showered you with great food and gifts, the moment you two came home you immediately stopped by the doorway and squeezed her hand tightly.

she paused in her tracks and looked back at you, her height imposing as she towered over your smaller frame and god, you never realized just how intimidating she was up until this moment.

she was all hard muscle and sharp edges, you don’t blame others for doubting that underneath her hardened exterior laid a provider and protector - someone who constantly looked out and cared for you.

“something wrong, baby?” she asked softly, stepping into your space as she pinched your chin in between her fingers and tilted your head so you could look at her directly.

making you even more nervous because it felt like she was putting you on the spot.

“I-I’ve… been thinking.” you stuttered out as she continued to stare you down “I think it’s time.”

she didn’t quite get it at first, but it wasn’t until you lifted your hand and put it against her toned stomach, that everything suddenly clicked inside her head.

she blinked “are you sure?”

you couldn’t suppress your smile seeing as how that even after a whole year together, she was still willing to let you take your time and see if you actually wanted this.

“I’m sure,” you sighed, looking down at your feet “it’s just… I don’t wanna disappoint,”

“baby, you know that’s impossible. we’ve been together long enough and it’s not like we haven’t already been familiar with each other’s-“

“it’s not-“ you let out a shaky chuckle “just that. sev, I never really told you this but… I haven’t done it with anyone. like ever.”

she froze by the threshold of your apartment and looked at you, dumbfounded. processing your words just for a moment before her eyes softened and she reached out, cupping your face in her calloused palm as she nudged her nose with yours. an affectionate gesture, one that soothed your nerves in an instant.

“no wonder it took you a while. I just thought maybe you weren’t sure about me at first,” she admitted and you immediately shook your head.

“trust me, I’ve never been more sure about doing it with anyone more than I am with you. you…” you paused to gaze into her eyes, feeling your heart clench at the way she was looking at you like you hung the stars “you make me feel so safe, sev.”

she could’ve crumbled right here and there. she might never say it outright like how you just did but the truth of the matter is, no one has ever left this much of an impact on her not until you came along.

before you, she was used to meaningless flings and hookups - dropping by at the gardens to fulfill her needs with any of the girls there because for the longest time, she thought commitment wasn’t for her.

then you proved her wrong.

so you could only imagine she wanted this to be special for you, but also from the deepest pits of her subconscious lingered a thought - one she was too ashamed to confess but the truth is, your inexperience turned her on more than anything.

perhaps it was the juxtaposition between you two. whereas sex was almost like second nature to her - for you it was a foreign language, but sevika savored the thought of being the one to take your virginity. of being the one to set the standard.

because if there was one thing she was certain about - not only was she going to be your first, but she was also going to be your goddamn last.

𐙚˙⋆.˚

fidgeting on the edge of your bed, you were like a leaf in the wind.

sevika could sense your nerves already. she told you to wait for her in your shared bedroom as she got herself ready.

you were still clad in your underwear and an oversized shirt. having taken your makeup off from the date earlier, you waited for sevika to emerge from the bathroom - your knees bouncing and your palms sweaty.

by the time you heard the door creak open however, the whole atmosphere froze as sevika stepped out and your whole mouth went dry.

because there she was, in nothing but her tight boxers that accentuated her thick, muscular thighs while she was left bare everywhere else.

you eyed her from head to toe - she’d taken off her prosthetic and you focused on her right arm as she flexed her bicep. her toned abs were on display as well as her visible V line that led your gaze down to her crotch where you noticed a happy trail peeking out from beneath her briefs.

you felt like a pervert.

your cheeks reddened as she walked closer to where you sat on the bed, trapping your legs together with her own as you clenched your thighs and she couldn’t help but smirk at how visibly nervous you were.

“relax for me, baby.” she purred, caressing your cheek before she pulled away to approach the dresser.

she rummaged through the insides for a bit and you tried to take a peek at what she was looking for, but all your curiosity died down the second you saw it.

a pool of heat suddenly flooded your insides the second you caught sight of the harness she had in her hand, as well as the girthy, long black dildo that was attached to it as she walked back to you.

she stopped in front of you with her eyebrow raised “you know what this is?” she asked and you were silent for a bit before you sheepishly nodded your head.

her eyes glinted mischievously “good,” she thrusted the strap to your open hands.

“because I’m gonna fuck you with it.”

your entire body grew hot as soon as those words left her mouth “is that alright with you?” again, you nodded your head, a little bit too eagerly and she could only chuckle.

“okay, now help me put it on. then we’ll prep you.” she said and you quickly got out of your daze as you helped her.

once it was on, the harness was snug tightly around her hips while the faux cock bobbed up and down the air.

you gulped, eyes wide and sevika was quick to ease your worries “don’t worry, we’ll take things slow.” she said as she bent down to give you a kiss.

it was warm, soothing but quick before she straightened her posture, hands finding purchase at the back of your head as she guided your mouth to her cock.

“open up for me, sweetheart.”

it was less of a request and more so a demand, nevertheless you parted your lips willingly and took her in your mouth inch by inch. meanwhile she made sure you didn’t go too fast as to not gag right away.

“shhh, that’s it. take it easy,” she muttered, licking her lips as she took in the sight of you struggling to swallow her cock “ease your jaw a bit, and relax your tongue. you don’t need to go all the way.”

you looked up at her with teary eyes and followed her instructions as sevika gently pressed her hand at the nape of your neck.

helping you as you slid your lips up and down her shaft while the obscene, wet sounds of your mouth swallowing her dick filled the room.

meanwhile, her breathing grew heavy as she lets out a groan “fuck, baby. you take my cock so well. so fucking good for me.”

she abruptly but gently pulled you away and you couldn’t help the whine that slipped out of you, making her chuckle.

“don’t worry, we’re just getting started. you were doing so good already though, weren’t you?” she cooed, wiping away a stray tear from your eye “now lay down for me, beautiful.”

and as you were about to follow her orders she suddenly stopped you “lose the shirt.”

you obliged, taking it off to reveal you with nothing but your underwear and no bra on. her eyes darkened as she reached forward and took one of your breast in her hand, kneading it before she carefully pushed at your collarbone as your back hit the mattress.

she kneeled in front of you and parted your knees, her hand sliding one side of your underwear down for you as you helped her pull down the other.

she lets out a curse once she saw your glistening folds “jesus,” she was dumbstruck, her eyes nearly obsidian “all this just from sucking my cock?“

you squirmed and instinctively tried to close your legs, but she pinned them down “I don’t think so.” her fingers glided along your inners thighs as she drew her head closer, her breath fanning against your clenching hole and you shuddered.

words couldn’t even describe the sensation when her tongue did a languid swipe at your needy cunt, your back immediately arching off the bed as sevika did her best to anchor you down with one arm. her eyes gazing up at you like a predator watching its prey before it decided to devour it whole.

and devour you whole she did, because one moment she was soft and gentle with the way she licked across your puffy walls then all of a sudden she took your clit in between her lips and sucked. hard.

you yelped because the feeling was just too intense. you’ve touched yourself before on multiple occasions but nothing could’ve compared to the real thing. laying down as your lover spread you open and savored every inch of you.

not to mention the sounds. the way she slurped at your cunt like it was the finest of delicacies while she moaned, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine as you jolted.

“fuck, fuck, fuck. sevika…” you cried as she added in a finger, pushing it in and out of you before adding another - scissoring them back and forth inside you as she curled them at the right angle that had you seeing stars for a moment “oh my god!”

you poured into her all sticky and warm, your slick dripping off her chin and she hummed, wringing your orgasm out of you.

“god, you take me so fucking well, baby.” she crawled up on top of you and kissed you like she was starving for it. the taste of your cum still fresh on the ends of her tongue.

“I think you’re ready now,” she claimed “if it gets too much you tell me, okay? we’ll stop right away. push me away if you have to.”

you shook your head “I’m fine, j-just… fuck me, please.”

she didn’t need to be told twice, with how desperate you sounded and the way your body responded to her, she was a lost cause.

before you knew it, she was guiding the tip of her cock and sliding it back and forth along your pussy lips, sinking into you little by little and you immediately held onto her shoulders for stability. feeling so deliciously full as you began grinding your hips onto hers, seeking friction.

“w-we’ll take it slow.” she said but even she wasn’t sure how long that was going to last, especially with how you looked up at her - all blissed out and opened mouthed.

stroking her cock in a careful back and forth before she bottomed out, punching a broken moan out of you as you felt the ridges of her cock massage your inner walls.

“it feels so good, sev. oh my god. so fucking good, baby. I love your cock.” you were practically slurring your words at this point and sevika had to physically restrain herself from driving herself into you with vigor.

this was your first time and she didn’t want to overwhelm you, but all of that simply got thrown out the window when she felt you dig your claws into her back, pulling her in.

“faster, sev. please.”

she shook her head, keeping her strokes steady and slow “b-baby, I don’t-“

“p-please. fuck me harder. I wont break, I-I need it so bad, sev. please.”

just like that, it was like a light switch was turned on. one moment her pace was deliberate and careful then the next, she was slamming into you that the head board smacked repeatedly against the wall.

not being able to contain the growl that rumbled from the depths of her chest as your pathetic whines filled her ears.

pounding her cock into you with such fervor that you could instantly feel your second orgasm bubbling beneath the surface.

“I’m gonna cum, sev. I’m gonna cum, baby, oh my g-god!-“

“that’s it,” she whispered, reaching out as she wrapped her hand around your throat and squeezed. not too tight but just enough to get your mind fuzzy “be a good girl and cum for me. you’re so fucking good.”

beads of sweat slid down her forehead as she continued to drive into you.

“you’re so perfect, baby.” she whispered “never gonna let you go. I’m gonna be the only one who gets to fuck you like this, you hear me?”

your mind was practically blank as you only managed to nod your head in response.

she was panting heavily as she watched you approach the brink of your climax “good girl. I’m your first and last. nobody else.“

and that was the final nail to the coffin. with the band in your stomach instantly snapping, your slick poured out of you. abundant and wet as you cried into the crook of sevika’s neck due to the overstimulation.

“holy shit…” sevika muttered in disbelief seeing the way you squirted all over her.

it took about a minute or two before your pleasure finally subsided. your body deflating as she took you in her arms and pulled out.

the emptiness making you whine but she was quick to soothe it away as she captured your lips with her own. her tongue meeting yours in a passionate kiss as she held you against her you like you were made out of porcelain.

eventually, you had to pull away for air and once you did, she stood up and took the harness off her hips. heading to the bathroom meanwhile you were left in bed with your eyes shut, content.

you heard the faucet running and you felt exhaustion overcome you not until you felt a wet sensation around your inner thighs.

opening your eyes to see sevika cleaning you up with a damp wash cloth, and once she felt your gaze on her she all but smiled.

“I hope it was good for your first time,” she said and you couldn’t help but snort.

“good?” you repeated with a shake of your head “what we just did made me realize that I’m either marrying you or killing you because I don’t think sex with any other person is ever going to top… that.”

she couldn’t help it as she lets out a roar of laughter, making you smile.

“sadly you’re not going anywhere,” you said to which she could only chuckle at.

“yeah well,” she grinned, squeezing your hip affectionately “I don’t think I would want to either. I like it right here.”

[stxrsiren]

scissor me september.

[dustyrkives]

Savage Needs

PAIRING: Ada Wong x fem reader

WARNINGS: Nemean Lion Alpha Ada, GP Ada because I said so, parents AU, est. relationship (they're mates), tribe AU, omega r, feral Ada, primal Ada, groping, teasing, delayed gratification, spanking, dry humping, anal sex, anal penetration, unprotected sex, raw sex, p0rn without plot, cockwarming, marking and biting.

SYNOPSIS: When your mate returns from scouting, she comes back needy. But when you decide to ignore her, she takes matters in her own hands.

MEN, MINORS DNI

The cubs are out playing, and you're doing chores.

And your mate?

Needy.

She had just returned from doing her rounds with the pack's men. Now she's seated at the straw settee, legs spread, exposing her raging bulge beneath her long loin cloth, sweat coating her torso–highlighting her abs.

Gods, she looks delectable. So delectable, that maybe delayed gratification is the best solution–for now.

So what did you do?

You hand her a cup of water and resume cleaning the hut. Your mate blinks at you, appalled by your choice to ignore the obvious need in between her legs.

"What?" She huffs and pats on her strong thighs. "Mate. Come."

Her call falls on deaf ears while you tidied up. With a low growl she stands in full-height and strides towards you. Your stomach churns as your eyes linger at her domineering stature before you pretend not to see her and clean the makeshift kitchen.

Strong arms wrap around your waist as she pins your front against the clay counter. A sharp gasp leaves your lips when her calloused hands grope your breasts, teasing your nipples, eliciting both a sigh and a moan from you while she grinds her hard cock against your ass. Her breath hot and desperate as she pins her full weight against you.

"Need. Mate." Ada whines, nipping the shell of your ear, her cock needing attention.

However, you continue to play ignorant to her needs. "Ada, my love, I need to clean."

Another whine vibrates from her lips as she humps against you like a needy young lion, her precum is soiling her loin cloth, creating an obvious wet spot against the fabric as she curls her arms tighter and continue fondling your chests, palming and squeezing them with her hands.

Your hands held onto the counter for support as moans and mewls tumble from your lips. Ada's lips morph into a mischievous smirk as she rubs her hips before thrusting her covered, aching member against your clothed ass.

"Dirty," Your mate huffs and spanks your rear before shamelessly rutting against you in abandon. Your cunt flutters and clenches around nothing as a pool of wetness stains the rear of your tribal skirt.

Your head drops as you feel the clothed tip poke against your covered folds, wetness seeping through the fabric and all you can think of is how her cock would feel inside your walls again–but not now.

Her lips press against the muscles at the back of your neck, leaving a trail of saliva, matching the way her cock is dribbling with precum; you both can hear the way your clothes rub against each other before your inhibitions are thrown out of the window and turn around, pulling the savage for a wet, sloppy kiss.

Ada pushes you to sit against the counter, her hands guiding your hips to rub against hers as muffled grunts reverberate from her chest as she rubs her hips against you. Your lungs burned for oxygen as you continue to kiss her before pulling back, leaving a string of saliva before she kisses it away and hides her face in the crook of your neck, her soft, whiny moans vibrating against your skin.

Her hands snake to your ass, grabbing and squeezing it before landing a soft spank. Your eyes roll back as she fastens the face, her hips not leaving yours as she continues to gyrate, creating a sweet, eye-rolling friction as your hand grabs onto her leather tunic, slipping into the gaps where her skin is exposed and touching, scratching her there.

The short-haired brute groans, her cock stands proud as it rubs against yours clothed pussy, veins throbbing and balls pressed against the shaft as she humps against you, heavy with fertile seed.

She removes her face from your neck and kisses you again, wet, needy and sloppy. Your wet lip-locking echoes throughout the shared space as you both give into your needs.

Ada guides her cock against the hood your clit, rubbing and plowing against you. You bite your lower lip to prevent a loud moan from erupting as more precum seeps through Ada's loincloth. You press yourself against her, hips shamelessly meeting hers as you hump against each other. Both eyes are closed and jaws slack.

"Ngnn–mpphh" The beast whines before her teeth latch onto your skin, piercing the flesh as her orgasm sweeps through her body and you feel a familiar sensation brewing in your stomach before a gush of wetness spurts from your folds while Ada's knot knot pops out, creating a bigger bulge through her cloth as it spills her seed.

You both stay cuddled while Ada purrs and kisses your scent glands around your neck, licking it flat with her tongue while you play with the ends of her hair.

After a few minutes, Ada's wasted knot loosens and reverts back to normal before she shakes out of her daze and lens down, pecking your lips.

"Me want more," She rumbled, on cue, you feel her harden again. Your chest heaves, still recovering from your orgasm as you look at your mate.

Eyes bright, pleading for more as she moves her hips.

Swallowing, your lips brush against her ear. "Keep the cubs busy first."

With a huff, Ada reluctantly pulls away from you. You nearly whine from the loss of her warmth before you slump against the counter.

From the window, you see Ada approach the twins with her hands on her hips, telling them something.

A small smile graces your lips when the twins eagerly nod and continue playing with the wooden toys that Ada had patiently carved during her spare time.

Ada strides back to the hut and huffs, "Bed. Now." She didn't even wait for you to comply as she grabs your wrist, tugging you to your shared private quarters.

You giggle at her impatience before it gets cut off with a gasp as she effortlessly throws you to the sheets. She quickly disregards her loincloth, powerful arms ripping the leather tunic with little to no effort–you feel yourself get wet at the display of power and savagery displayed by your mate as she gestures a finger for you to lay on your stomach.

Gulping and needy, you obey your mate's silent command as she perched herself on the sheets, stalking towards you like a predator.

You bite your lower lip, seeing her shadow loom above you while her hands make quick work on tearing your skirt, tossing it haphazardly across the room. A gasp falls from your lips as your folds flutter against the air, moist and in need of relief. But Ada's eyes focus onto your ass, grabbing, spanking and kneading.

You're left as a whimpering, moaning mess as her thumb penetrates your ass. Your mate grins and retracts her thumb before pushing her girthy cock inside your rear before thrusting with abandon, each pull and push knocks the breath from your lungs.

She quickly tears your shirt and pushes you into the mattress, fingers sprawled, clawing at the animal hides as she ruts into you.

Ada grits her fangs, hands gripping your hips, dragging you against her cock, using you, holding you.

"Tight." The beast growls, "Warm."

With one hand sliding up your back, pressing you down between your shoulder blades, forcing your arch deeper, making you feel every inch of her splitting you open.

The alpha leans down, whispering against your ear. "Mine."

On cue the muscles inside your anus clenches around her, ripping a pristine moan from the barbarian as she fucks into you. Harder.

The bed creaks, her cum and precum smearing your ass with your slick as she plows her hips savagely; taking you like you're nothing more than a toy for her pleasure.

Ada's pace is simply delicious. Sloppy, rude hips smacking against your ass, your back is arched, hands clawing anything for support as fucks into you.

"A-Ah!" You cry out as she uses her strength against your poor body; her pace unforgiving, propelling herself into your ass. She bites her lower lip from the way your ass contracts against her–so snug. Amber-hued crevices narrow while observing the way your ass quakes from her powerful plows.

She bites into your shoulder again before lapping it clean with her tongue.

Your eyes roll back as you push your ass against her front, chasing your release–both your release, and Ada moans before plowing her cock deep, pumping you full before her knot pops out.

Both if your moans echo in the room as Ada stills her hips while she pumps your ass full of cum.

Your orgasm follows suit, legs trembling as you drip onto the bed, your mixed essence creating a mess on the sheets. Your mate lands lone last spank against your ass before resting against you.

You both pant against each other, Ada's lips press soothing kisses against your nape before kissing your mark. Both mates knowing it won't be long until she decides to impregnate you with a third cub.

[caitlynbuceta]

goddess

[kngrose]

𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇

imagine being vi’s bottom bitch while she’s locked up

She’s placed a non-verbal claim on you, everyone in stillwater knows that one is hers. They’ll know by the way she slaps your ass when you pass her or the way she drops anyone who tries to hit on you. You’ll get anything you want from anybody, just let her know. More bread? Bless the poor soul she just grilled for it, it's never a pretty sight. But that's neither here nor there when she's presenting it to you with a smirk you would almost call cute. "You gonna pay me back for this, hm?

It'll be lights out by the time you get to, the rest of the inmates retiring for the night in silence. But the quality of their sleep doesn't matter when she’s got her own pretty little cellmate on her knees, shoving your face in between her legs to rut against your mouth, "Yeah, make it up to me, pretty.."

[silknspice]

BAD LIARS —

fake dating hockey! vi x reader | fluff, angst, fake dating trope, romcom-ish, smut (mdni 18+) wc 20.8k

synopsis: following the release of four outdated love letters, vi vanderson is more than willing to start fake dating the girl of her dreams as a way to get rid of your clingy ex (and her ex hookup): caitlyn kiramman. 

content: fake dating trope, some fake insta/snap stories/smau content!, language, betrayal, makeup smut (kissing, fingering, oral, mdni!), clingy ex!caitlyn, college au, lying, miscommunication

soundtrack: if you let me (alina baraz) | lowkey (niki) | lovers (anna of the north) | see through (amelia moore) | fetish (selena gomez) | kill bill (sza) | all of the girls you loved before (taylor swift) | two weeks (fka twigs) | everything happens for a reason (madison beer) | every summertime (niki)

Three-fourths of your favorite cereal is absolutely disgusting. 

The deep blue circles start off sweet, but leave a bitter aftertaste that stains your tongue. The auburn ones aren’t all that bad, but they get too soggy, disintegrating into grains that fade into the now colored milk. The chestnut brown discs are so scarce that their taste is completely forgettable; you swear there’s only three in each batch. 

Had these been the only flavors, you’d chuck the box in the trash and scold your best friend-roommate Mel for even bringing them into your shared apartment. But that one-fourth of strawberry pink circles make it worth it every time. They’re sweet on your tongue, sweet on your heart, swee—

“What’s with the look?” 

Mel’s concern-filled voice brings you back to the present, making you smile sheepishly like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. The girl slides her white puffer jacket on, keys jingling in her hand as she awaits an answer. 

“Nothin’, just ate a blue one.” Your mouth flattens, attempting to squeeze the bitter flavor from your tastebuds. 

The gold-eyed girl hums. She blinks as her arms cross and she takes two, then three cautious steps towards you. Her gaze flickers faster than light, attempting to read every inch of your body language. 

“You know,” she starts, sitting down to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “If you need to talk about it, I’m here. Don’t feel like you have to suffer in silence.” 

That makes you snort, soft reassuring laughter following as you shake your head with confidence.

“Suffer? Mel, I broke up with Caitlyn, not the other way around.” 

“Yeah, but transitioning from a relationship to a peace-abundant single life is hard nonetheless.. unless you’re ready to jump to the rebound stage?” Her full brows raise in persuasion as she finishes her sentence. In her mind, getting laid would solve any problems that the complex inner-workings of your mind could craft. 

The question catches you off guard once more. Not that it should. It’d be a big fat lie to claim the idea never crossed your mind. In fact, it planted itself inside your brain like a bug and dug all the way down to memories you’d attempted to forget. Down to highschool of all places (God forbid). Down to those four names that perfectly defined the word ‘desire’ for you. Ellie Williams, Caitlyn Kiramman, Sky Young, and Violet Vanderson. 

Ellie, a fellow camp counselor at Wildflower Haven your junior year, took hold of your heart on day one. Sneaking out of your cabins at night, skinny dipping in the camp lake, even making matching bracelets that you claimed you’d ‘wear forever’. Your crush blossomed at superluminal speed. But before you knew it, camp was coming to an end and you were saying goodbye forever. 

Caitlyn Kiramman. A classic senior-year-of-high-school crush that didn’t develop until the first semester of college sophomore year. Your now ex, who is the last person you want to think about. High five to your high school self for predicting that one, though. 

Sky Young, a skating instructor at your local ice rink: Polar Peaks. After you’d fallen on your face for the fourth time and were ready to give up, you saw chestnut brown curls above you, decorating one of the friendliest smiles you’d seen to date. She helped you rise to your feet and held your hand for a lap around the rink. Unfortunately, you were a sophomore when she was a senior, and a week later you returned to the rink to find out she’d officially left for college. Not that there was anything between you two. Still, you could dream. 

And last, but certainly not least, Violet Vanderson. The star athlete of your school’s hockey team then and now. Sculpted muscles, a singular tattoo that multiplied quickly after graduation, and a killer smile that could put a halt to the gears turning in any girl’s head.

It was a simple interaction. You were the first one to read your final poem in front of your literature class with clammy palms, a shaky voice, and a dream. As you finished, looking at attentive students like a deer in headlights, Vi was the first to clap. It was enthusiastic, loud, and genuine. And like always, other students followed suit. 

Vi didn’t know you. She knew of you, the bits and pieces she could gather. You were somewhat of a social butterfly, you smelled of strawberry and vanilla every time you passed her seat, you were mind-consumingly beautiful, and you could write. Unfortunately for the both of you, your paths didn’t seem to cross any further than that.

And so, you wrote a letter.

Four love letters, to be exact. Each one in the high point of your crushes, attempting to soothe the longing feeling in your gut that ached for you to do something. You wrapped them all the same, in either a dark blue, chestnut brown, auburn, or pink envelope with a bow on the seal, even going as far as addressing and stamping them. Of course, they were never meant to be sent, which led them to their hiding place in a rose-red cylindrical fabric box that was stashed away into the depths of your closet. 

“C’mon, you’re hot and single again. I have some good contestants–”

“I don’t know Mels,” you cut her off with a look too mixed to decipher. “But really, I’m good,” you reassure, taking another spoonful of cereal into your mouth. 

Yuck–  another blue one. 

“Sevika, what the fuck!”

Gert’s complaint was drowned out by skates shuffling against the abused ice. Players clad in blue and white practice jerseys messily fill the space, fighting to keep up with Sevika. The woman speeds past, guiding the puck along the ice and slamming it into the goal.

The sounds of hurried feet and grunts subside, leaving breathless panting and shared looks of confusion across the teammates’ faces. But one pair of skates never slows, coming up behind the buff figure and skidding to a stop.

“The hell are you doing?” Vi scolds the woman with a scrunched up face of judgement. This is the sixth time Sevika’s pissed her off this week and it’s starting to get on her last nerve. “You’re hogging the puck. You’re not the only person on this team, in a game this would’ve–” 

“Get the hell out of my face,” the burly woman throws back, shoulder checking Violet hard enough to make her break her cool, squaring her shoulders and raising her voice with a “Sevika,”. 

“Vanderson! Grove!” Coach Talis’s voice echos throughout the rink, making the hockey players stop in their tracks. 

“Unless you two want to run extra drills: cut it out. Now.” 

“Is it just me, or is she being more of a fucking pain than usual?” Vi asks the woman across the locker room rhetorically, slipping on a clean compression shirt and plopping down on the bench to knot her laces. 

“I told you dude, she wants to be you, or at least take your spot.” the blonde sighs, pulling her braided hair from under the pullover she just slipped on. “As long as she’s taking her anger our on you and not me..” She continues, and the pinkette throws her a scoff before the blonde continues. 

“You know if you need stress relief, you could always go back to Kiramman. Heard the pretty girl called things off with her.”

And although her teammate only muttered the words, they set off blaring alarms within Vi’s mind. Because she can’t go back to hooking up with Caitlyn, she lied to her friends saying the two of them were ‘too busy’ when in reality Vi called things off because she couldn’t stop thinking about the one girl she knew nothing about. You. And suddenly, you and Cait were dating. Suddenly, she sure as hell couldn’t tell anybody the real reason she stopped seeing her. 

“Nah Abby, not happening,” she simply replies, attempting to sound as bored with the topic as possible.

“Fine, stay dry. I’m just throwing things out there,” the blonde puts her hands up in defense, shutting her locker as she walks towards the exit. “Later!” she waves before slipping out of the door. 

A beat passes. Then two. Then three. Finally, she takes a deep breath, leans down to unzip her practice bag, and reaches in. 

And out Vi pulls a pink envelope, decorated with a bow perfectly placed on the front and her name adorned with hearts on the back. 

The force of cool air coats your face as you walk throughout campus, ranting on the phone to Mel about your latest hell of a group project. “And it’s not even.. even.. sorry, I’m getting a call. Talk at home!” 

You smile at the friendly contact photo covering your screen, rounding some greenery as the parking lot comes into view. With a click of the ‘accept’ button, you're greeted with the gentlest of voices. “Hey!” 

A soft chuckle leaves your lips.

“Hey little man, look I’m about to drive home so I can’t talk for long,” you blinked a few times, realizing you went further from your car and spinning on your heels. 

“No worries,” he starts, “I just wanted to let you know that last week I was helping clean your old room and I found some letters, looks like you forgot to send them out? They were stamped and addressed and everything, so I just sent them for you.”

Ekko continues, giving some speech about God knows what.

But you can’t hear any of it, because the ringing in your ears is deafening.

No. 

It takes a few beats of your pure, shocked silence before your brain powers back on. And once it does, every inch of your mind is racing.

Okay, you thought to yourself. Ellie’s letter was addressed to camp, so there’s no chance of it getting to her anytime soon, if at all. Sky’s been gone for years, but you can’t remember the address you put down for her letter. Violet– shit. She definitely has hers. 

Oh. No. No, no, no. 

Your body feels oh so fragile and suddenly the idea of fleeing the country doesn’t sound entirely heinous, because only a few feet away stands Caitlyn.

Her blue hair is in a messy ponytail and her outfit is less perfected than usual, urgently thrown on. She’s searching, a determined expression plastered on her face as her gaze flickers through crowds of students.

For a moment, you pray it’s a misunderstanding. You pray she’s in a rush to find someone else, because there’s absolutely no way your ex was mailed a love letter you wrote in highschool. 

But your eyes trail down to her hand wrapped around that beautifully decorated navy envelope, and your knees are seconds away from buckling.  

“Yeah, yeah uh huh that’s great and all Ekko but I’ve really gotta go. Call me another time, okay?” you hit the ‘end call’ button with more force than needed and dash to your car. 

As you swing open the car door and drop inside with a slam shut, you can feel it. The way your heart pounds against your chest as if it’s trying to escape. That achy feeling that crawls its way up the back of your throat and transforms into tears that prickle at the corners of your worried eyes.

You shake your head, putting the key in the ignition and immediately shifting to reverse, not tending to your clouded vision. 

“Woah!” 

The somewhat-familiar yelp has your foot slamming on the breaks. Your face scrunches in confusion, the sleeve of your coat wiping your eyes just enough to make out the empty space behind your car as you look in your rearview camera. You’re confused, ready to switch the car back into ‘reverse’ before a tap tap at your window makes you gasp. 

Violet stands there, looking relaxed as an almost smug smile coats her lips. 

Your face distorts, torn between speeding off and giving in to her request, but before you make a decision, your manicured hands are rolling the window down. Cool air flows inside, but it loses to the subtle warmth that fills your body from the way the pinkette is eyeing you. 

“You know you’re supposed to check behind you before pulling out, right?” she teases.

The question itself is mocking, but the glint in her eye and how she leans down to relax a forearm on the car tells you to let it slide. 

“Right,” you agree. “Right, sorry about that. I just really need to leave so–” 

“Think y’ can explain this before you do?”

With no time to brace yourself, she holds up that stupid decorated pink envelope, and all you want to do is faint. 

“I don’t..” you whisper, accepting there’s nothing you can say to make this go away. But that blue hair is nearing, and you’re going to have a heart attack. 

“Can you get in?” you ask, voice a soft plea. 

Vi’s expression falters. That was the last thing she expected.

“Please?” you try again. “I can’t talk about this here.”

Your foot’s going to fall asleep if you sit like this any longer.

The two of you stay perfectly still, worried that any form of movement will penetrate the bubble of silence that formed as soon as Vi sat in the plush passenger seat.

Her mind is racing, because the beautiful girl she’s had her eyes on for months sent her the most heartfelt confession she’s ever gotten, and now she’s sitting in her car in a secluded area of a park. For a moment, she wonders if she’s dreaming. But the sound of your seat belt unbuckling and you shifting to face her, sweet and cautious eyes looking into her soul, has her heart skipping beats. She concludes she’s wide awake.

“Interesting spot for our first date,” she hums after clearing her throat. “You’re not gonna kill me, right?” 

That has your expression faltering. 

“You’re..” you stammer, “you think this is funny?” 

“Listen I’m just a little confused, sunshine,” she doesn’t miss the way your body stills at the nickname. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered. But you and her majesty just broke up, and I think you should know that her and I—” 

“Just– let me see that.” you cut her off and reach out for the rosy packaging, but Vi’s quicker, pulling it back with a squint in her eyes.

“I’d like to know how mortified I should be,” you confess quietly after a beat of silence. “It’s been a while since I read yours.” 

Naturally, the athlete oozes confidence and cockiness, but the pure confusion that colonizes her expression makes all of that fade for the moment. Her guard is down, allowing you to reach over her lap and seize the envelope. 

“Wait wait wait,” she starts as you focus your attention on pulling the folded paper from the envelope. 

“What do you mean ‘yours’? Are you saying I’m not the only person who got one ‘f these?” she asks, voice laced with confusion and another emotion you can’t quite pinpoint. You ignore her, hands stilling as sour nostalgia hits you in the gut and knocks the wind out of you.

My dearest Violet,

Do you remember Ximena Talis’s creative writing class in junior year? You acted so uninterested in each lesson when your teammates were around, but when they were busy skipping class, you were sticking your nose in the next Shakespeare play or Edgar Allen Poe poem. You shared your own writings with the class, a bored look painting your face and an awkward laugh spilling from your throat (although, they really weren’t that bad). But when I stood in front of our peers and performed my spin on “Annabel Lee”, you rose to your feet in applause. I’ll always be grateful that it was you who gave me my first standing ovation. Because in that moment I knew, from my happily raised eyebrows down to the nervous shuffling of my feet, that I love you Violet Vanderson. I really, truly love you. 

You physically can’t read the rest of this.

The tense sensation in your stomach only tightens as you hastily fold the paper and toss it back to the athlete, who’s still examining you with a curious glint in her eye.

“Okay–  here’s the thing,” you begin after a deep breath. “I wrote four letters, and they’re all outdated, like– from sophomore through senior year. A family friend sent them out by accident.” 

The explanation has Violet blinking, because in one sentence you’ve managed to crush her plans that she confidently pranced over with. In one sentence, you’ve made her question what the hell she was thinking. In one sentence, you’ve washed away her suave persona and turned her to a questioning pile of mush, because– you’re not just trying to get into her pants?

“..Well who else got letters?” She cringes at her whiny tone, running a hand through her hair for comfort. 

“Uh,” you sigh and shift your position as you look anywhere but the girl, dread consuming your almost-annoyed face. “A girl from summer camp, some girl from the ice rink, and… Caitlyn.” The last word comes out as an embarrassed murmur that leaves Vi’s mouth agape in shock and pity. 

A few beats of silence pass before Vi’s eyes light up. 

It might be a crazy idea, and you might despise her after the suggestion leaves her lips, but she can’t pass up this opportunity.

“Things with Kiramman must be tense now, right?” she offers.

Your lips press together in silent agreement, gaze trailing to your shining phone screen.  35 new messages and 6 missed calls from Caitlyn, just in the past two hours. You’d texted Caitlyn an explanation as soon as you’d parked: that Ekko sent her an old letter and that was just that. But still, stubborn as always, the bluenette refuses to believe you. 

“You could say that,” you mumble reluctantly. “I just,” you whisper, “I don’t know what to do.”

Her gaze flickers up and down your frame once in final thought. Your bright eyes drooping with worry and once confident voice lacing with insecurity makes up her mind. She wants nothing more than to console you, to wrap her strong arms around your frame and make you beam. Vi’s not sure if it’s her or the seventeen year old in that creative writing class speaking, but words fall from her lips. 

“I could be your girlfriend.”

A wave of disbelief washes over you, leaving widened eyes and a pounding heart in its path. The panicked expression on your face is enough to have her next words sputtering out in consolation. 

“Fake girlfriend, of course.” The way your eyes soften in thought fuels her to continue. “Just for a little while y’know? To give Kiramman the hint.” Her words are spoken with more power as she sees the gears turning in your pretty little head.

The idea’s heinous, and the thought of your scheme being revealed makes your stomach turn in embarrassment for the both of you. It’s ridiculous, idiotic, and risky, but your phone lights up once again with a text from your navy-haired ex, and that’s enough to make you answer.

“Okay, let’s do it.” 

caitlyn: I know you didn’t mean what you said. Just come and talk to me, love.  caitlyn: Jesus, don’t be stubborn. 

The messages continue on like a flood, piling onto your guilty conscience until the notification ringing becomes all too much, making you flick the silence button on your phone. The quiet doesn’t last long as you near the doors of the practice rink. Five players burst through the doors, a cluster of chaos and yells surrounding them before one girl, hair tied back into a dark brown bun, notices you. 

“That her?” she whispers to her teammates, their backs facing you as they walk away, but they whip their heads around (noticeably at that) to get glances at you. 

“Damnn.” another draws out, earning a slap on her neck. 

“How’d Vi do that so fast?” you hear another quip before they take a turn down the hallway. 

You only smiled gently, rolling your eyes at the comments as your hand pushed open the door to the rink. At least you make a believable couple. 

“You know, my words were ‘you could always go back to Kiramman, the pretty girl dumped her’, not ‘you should go bag your ex-fling’s ex-girlfriend’. They’ve been broken up for, what, two weeks? Does she even know about you and Cait?” Abby’s raspy voice fills the ice, making Vi shush her in annoyance.

“Yes, of course she knows.” 

There’s a beat of silence, neither of the players move when the words of a lie fill the air.

“Fuck fine. No, she doesn’t know yet. I’m just waiting for a good time..” Vi confesses, aimlessly kicking the ice.

“You know this makes you messy, right?” the strong blonde grinned. 

“Oh fuck off. Messy is pounding half the swim team.” The pinkette sends an accusatory glance and Abby’s raising her hands up in innocence with a shrug and a smug smile. She rounds the ice and stops in her tracks when you enter the room, glistening skin and a patient waiting look on your face. 

She snickers, letting out a quick whistle as she skates towards the exit off the ice. “Violet,” she coos in a sing-songy voice, “look who’s here for you.” 

The blonde waves goodbye to her friend once and sends you a wink before exiting the room.

Your hands are clasped behind your back as you take your time walking up to where the carpet and ice of the rink are separated. Realizing your limit, you lean your side against the entrance, looking at the athlete whose eyes are grazing over your attire painfully slow.

“You want some skates?” she finally speaks, eyes meeting yours with a glint.

You laugh gently. “Hell no.” She snickers along with you, removing her helmet to run a hand through her hair. 

“So you’ve,” you slightly raise your hand to point your thumb in the direction Abby and the other players exited, “you’ve told people already?” 

Worry flickers over her face, because for some reason she just can’t read you right like she can read other girls and it drives her insane. 

“Yeah, something wrong with that?” she asks cooly, placing her helmet back on the pink fluff as she glides around.

You bite the inside of your cheek in thought, finally shaking your head. “No, no I mean that’s the whole point, for people to know.” you hum. 

“But I have to ask, why are you doing this?”

Vi stops in her tracks, body turning to face yours from feet away. 

She contemplates it, telling you the truth. That she’s infatuated with and intrigued by you. That you’ve completely ruined hookups and “crushes” for her because she can’t get you out of her head. And maybe she doesn’t know you too well just yet, but she’s going to. And yes, she used to fuck your ex girlfriend way before you were even girlfriends, but it has absolutely nothing to do with the bond she wants to have with you, and she prays it doesn’t affect deem her unreliable. 

Yet none of that can come out of her mouth. So, she settles on her practiced lie and prays whoever’s up there doesn’t look down on her for it.

“Coach doesn’t like my reputation for ‘getting around’. Says it just doesn’t look good. Being with you gives me some cover.” She talks smoothly, making sure there’s not a hint of guilt behind her voice, because it's a lie. Coach Talis couldn’t care less about what she’s doing in her free time as long as she shows out on the ice. 

You only hum and nod.

You don’t notice how close she’s gotten until she’s there, staring down at you. Her musk and amber scent is intoxicating, seeping into your nostrils while powder blue eyes catch yours through her helmet and– is it possible she looks better than you remember?

“The letter,” you sputter out, mentally cringing as the pinkette raises a brow. “Can I see the letter again?” 

She’s cheesing, reaching into the pocket of her pants to whip out the neatly folded paper and.. is she just keeping that on her? 

As if she can read your mind and wide eyes, she speaks. “Just knew you’d want it,” she explains, placing it between your waiting fingers. She watches as you unfold the paper and look up at her. Thick silence fills the air before the athlete gets the hint, blinking twice with a nod. “Right, sorry,” Vi apologizes simply before skating off. 

You take a deep breath, heart swelling the same way it did when you first wrote this sweet confession. 

My dearest Violet,

Do you remember Ximena Talis’s creative writing class in junior year? You acted so uninterested in each lesson when your teammates were around, but while they were busy skipping class, you were sticking your nose in the next Shakespeare play or Edgar Allen Poe poem. You shared your own writings with a bored look painting your face and an awkward laugh spilling from your throat (although, they really weren’t that bad). But when I stood in front of our peers and performed my spin on “Annabel Lee”, you rose to your feet in applause. I’ll always be grateful that it was you who gave me my first standing ovation. Because in that moment I knew, from my happily raised eyebrows down to the shuffling of my nervous feet, that I love you Violet Vanderson. I really, really love you. 

When I sat back down in my seat, you slipped a pink sticky note back onto my desk. Gentle handwriting and a sweet smiley face in the corner decorated the words “that was amazing, how do you write so well?”. I’d never had my heart pound harder, never felt my palms sweatier or my spirits higher. As each day passes, I hope you’ll look at me with the same rose colored glasses as you did that class. I dream each night with my lovestruck brain of you taking me by the hand and asking me to be forever yours. I’ll be waiting, no matter how long it takes.

- forever yours, ____

It doesn’t take long before you get that warm and fuzzy feeling, the same one that caressed your body while you wrote this very letter. It takes even less time for it to be replaced with soul eating shame that has you wanting to curl into a ball. 

“You’ve always been a good writer,” she calls out, nearing you. “I meant it when I said it.” 

“..I know,” you agree, a smile forming against your will. 

Vi’s grinning at your sass, and damn is the only word that fills her brain. “How are things with Kiramman?” she asks gently.

“She just doesn’t believe me. She’s texted a thousand times since yesterday and is totally convinced I want her back.” you roll your eyes in exhaustion.

“Do you?” 

You pause at her question, because underneath that carefree and playful persona hides a hint of worry behind Vi’s voice, and it’s fueling the curiosity within you. “Why are you asking?”

A beat passes. “Just wanna know how humiliated I’ll be after all of this,” the pinkette admits.

Her confession makes you laugh and shake your head. “I wouldn’t do that to you,” you hum. “I broke up with Caitlyn and that’s that. If it takes a fake relationship and a little pda for her to see that then so be it.” 

Vi nods, making sure not to let the smile she’s feeling creep onto her face. 

“So you like writing, you’re smart as hell, you dress real cute,” she points a finger up and down your outfit and you tilt your head. “Anything else I should know about you or our little.. ordeal?” 

You tongue your cheek in silent thought before replying. 

“You can’t kiss me.” 

That has Vi’s brain short circuiting, because the image you’ve set in her mind from those words alone is sparking a crimson glow across her face and– fuck she shouldn’t be thinking about this. But she had to admit (to herself, not out loud of course), she’d have no problem with running her lips across yours if you asked for it. 

“Did Kiramman not kiss you, angel?” ‘She’d have to be a fucking idiot not to’ is the next thing that wants to come out of her mouth, but she settles for a soft tease. “That’s a couples thing, if you didn’t know.” 

“We kissed, obviously.” You cross your arms as you speak. “You can– y’know, hold me, kiss my.. anywhere else.” Both you and Vi feel a shift. Damn, are ice rinks always this warm? “Just, no real kissing. It’s too personal.” 

Vi gently nods, slipping out a soft ‘alright’ because you have a good point. 

She moves forward to step off the ice, placing a firm hand on your waist to gently guide you out of the way as she passes. Your body tenses at the touch, whipping your head towards the girl in surprise.

The pinkette notices, and she knows she shouldn’t chuckle at it, but she does. “If it’s gonna take ‘a little pda’, you might wanna get rid of that before this weekend,” she’s speaking cockily as she nears her bag, her helmet coming off for good.

You clear your throat. “What’s this weekend?”

“Party ‘m takin’ you to. Think of it as our couples debut.” And Vi loves the surprised little look on your face as you ask her if that’s ‘really necessary’.

“You really think anyones gonna believe we’re together if I’m at a party all by myself? Who’s gonna fight off all the girls craving my attention, sunshine?” 

You wonder if the notorious smirk on her face is permanent as she slings her practice bag on a sculpted shoulder as she moves to tower over you, the cool air of the rink becoming very present.

“So you’re coming, yeah?” 

Your eyes travel from hers to the empty space beside her in thought. 

“Of course.”

“You’re sure it’s not too boob-y?” 

You tug at your low cut top, half yelling over the chaos of other students to your roommate who’s eyeing you like your one head has turned into five. 

“Wait, you didn’t want it to be ‘boob-y’? Practically wearing a bra,” she yells back with a knowing smile, sipping from the red cup that quickly found her hands. At the sight of your worry, her smugness turns to playful comfort. “Come on, you’re at a frat not a damn funeral. You look sexy.”

“She’s right.”

The raspy voice behind you is unfamiliar, sending a soft chill down your spine that turns you on your heels. 

You’re met with a tall, muscular, brownskin woman. Half of her hair is pulled back, and loose strands fall to decorate her face that holds piercing eyes which are completely directed on you. You’ve seen her before for sure, but her name is the last thing on your mind as her eyes trail over every inch of your exposed skin. 

“Sevika,” she tells lowly, placing a red cup between your manicured fingers to which you scoff under your breath. 

You give her the benefit of the doubt. 

“___,” you offer your name, looking for any hint of recognition on her face, and you get it when she smirks and tilts her head. 

“I know who you are, beautiful,” she purrs.

“Then you also know I’m Vi’s girlfriend?” you throw back. The words feel completely foreign on your tongue, but come out so awfully right. 

The raven’s eyebrows raise right before she huffs out a laugh of disbelief, sipping from whatever mixture graced the cup in her hand. “Girlfriend?” she repeats. “Shit, with the way she was talking about you, I thought you were just a hookup.” 

The air’s suddenly much thicker, tenser, and you don’t have much time to process what Sevika just laid upon you before pink hair makes its way through the crowd.

“There’s my girl,” Vi calls out as she nears you, her sweet words cutting the tension like a knife. “Been looking all over for you,” she speaks as gently as she can in the atmosphere, completely ignoring the presence of her teammate.

“Hi,” you simply let out. Your knees feel weak and you think maybe you’re not cut out for this, because the pinkette slides a warm hand around your waist and places a chaste kiss down on your bare shoulder. 

She’s pulling back from your skin when her eyes land on the cup in your hand, a confused glint in her eye as she squints. “Thought you drove?” The calloused fingers tracing meaningless patterns on your skin and soft breathy words hitting your face from just inches away make you feel like Melting. What’d she ask again?

“No,” is all you manage to stammer out, shifting in the girl’s arms until the right words form in your head. “No this isn’t mine.” you’re mentally facepalming.

Vi’s eyes flicker from you, to the cup, to Sevika, finally piecing together her part in this. The athlete stands a bit taller, gently taking the drink from your hands and shoving it against Sevika’s chest. Some of the liquid splashes over the cup, leaving droplets of a stain on the angry woman’s shirt.

Sevika’s slowly taking the cup without breaking eye contact. Her gaze is sharper than daggers as Violet huffs out a scoff, her grip on your waist more present as she guides you away from the brute and through the crowd of partygoers. 

“I’m sorry about her. One asshole of a teammate.” Vi’s words kiss your ear to avoid yelling as she walks. “You okay?” she asks slightly softer, which earns her a nod and quick ‘yeah’. The pinkette’s hand snakes from around your waist down to grab one of yours, holding you tightly as you worm your ways through the horde. 

As you exit the crowd your left arm finds its way to wrap around her right, placing your free hand lazily on her bicep, because if you had to feel her fingertips on your skin anymore you’d faint. The pair of you walk through the spacious backyard, decorated with a pool, groups of your classmates, and a cluster of hockey players lounging on some couches that circle a fire pit. 

“You ready?” She whispers softly.

“Ready,” you reply with a smile that turns into an “o” shaped mouth, big worried eyes capturing VI’s. “They won’t ask me about hockey, right?” 

The girl lets out a sweet, genuine laugh, and so cute is what she’s mentally replying. 

“There you are!” Abby calls out as soon as the two of you are in her vision. The rest of the team follows, greeting both you and Vi, throwing her smirks or nods of approval when you have your focus elsewhere. Vi sits, sprawling out against the couch with her legs perfectly spread for you. As if it were natural, her hands find their way around your hips and she guides you down into her lap. 

And you hate it. 

Not the feeling of her firm chest against your back, not her warm legs encasing your bare and crossed ones, not even the way she wraps her muscular arms around your torso and places her head so close to yours. 

You hate how normal she’s making all of this feel, how your brain is being fried with each touch, but your faux girlfriend doesn’t seem to be bothered one bit. And you’re starting to wonder if it’s a problem. 

“How’d you two even meet? Didn’t you and the chick from the basketball team just break up?” one of her teammates questions you with a raised brow. 

Fuck is all your brain renders, and you hope the shock didn’t show on your face because—

“I’ve had the hots for her since high school, thought it was time to do something about it,” Vi replies. A proud feeling washes over her when your body relaxes in her arms.

You’re gently squeezing her arm twice, thankful that she’s such a great actor. She’s running her thumb against your skin, thankful that you can’t read minds. 

A few sweet nods and noises of approval are let out before Abby speaks up. “‘The hots’? What are you, fifty?” She jokes, earning a grinning ‘fuck off’ from Vi. 

The teammates’ conversation continues both with and without you, leaving moments for you to think of something ‘girlfriendish’ to say or a new place on Vi’s skin to touch. And then, it starts. Against Vi’s rolling eyes and Elora’s complaint that this is “so middle school”, a game of truth or dare ensues. Ever the fun one, the blonde convinces everyone that it’ll be fun, that it’s good to be childish every once in a while. 

So far, Gert’s been dared to send an ‘i miss you’ voice note to her ex and is utterly ashamed, Abby’s mouth tastes both bitter and spicy from the liquor concoction the teammates dared her to drink, another girl has been stripped down to her shorts and wife pleaser and shooed away from the fire to ‘endure the cold’ for ten more minutes. 

When it comes to the other teammates, you don’t know how many “___ and i banged” truths and “take this many shots” dares you hear before it’s finally your turn. 

“Truth or dare?” Vi coos in your ear.

“Truth–” 

“Dare?” she cuts you off with a mean grin. “Alright, I dare you to jump into the pool. Right here, right now.” 

Your head whips towards the girl fast enough to send chills down the pinkette’s spine. The hockey team is whooping and cheering you on as Violet comes to a stand with your mid area still locked by her arms. 

“No– no– I said truth Vi!” you sputter out. Your body and mind are moving at an astronomically slow speed because before you know it, Vi’s scooping you off the ground and throwing you over her shoulder effortlessly. As she begins to walk, the hollering of the team growing in intensity, one of her warm hands lays at the back of your thigh, holding down the bottom of your already short skirt. The other trails its way down your leg and to your feet, slipping off your shoes and letting them fall with a plop. 

“Violet Vanderson.” you warn firmly, squirming in anticipation as you neared the icy blue water. You’re feeling five emotions at once, and at the same time evaluating how much Caitlyn’s perception on things truly matters, because you’re this close to firing your ‘girlfriend’. 

When she suggested this entire ordeal you imagined it’d be standing together for an hour and dancing, going out for drinks once or twice, maybe even an instagram story or two. 

You didn’t expect pool shenanigans, shoulder kisses, and powerful arms wrapped around your sides every two seconds. You didn’t expect to be having fun, let alone like it. 

“Put me down!” you yelp through rising giggles.

“A dare’s a dare, angel.” she speaks lowly over her shoulder to you, who’s dangling helplessly in her grasp. “C’mon, it looks good for us as a couple,” she whispers.

“Wait wait wait!–” 

Your last threat is drowned out as Vi jumps into the glowing blue.

“Wonder how many people have had sex in here tonight,” you joke through chattering teeth. You’re holding your soaked hair together to the best of your ability as to not drench everything in your path, but truthfully, water is the cleanest thing to grace those frat floors. Vi trails right in behind you, snorting out a laugh as she leans against the closed door. 

The pinkett’s pool stunt only had you upset for so long, mostly out of shock of her actually going through with it. However, once you rose to the surface of the water, the only things that could spill from your mouth were hearty giggles. 

What made it ten times better was that people saw, Vi’s teammates whooped while others just snickered at the ‘new couple’s’ playfulness. 

What made it a hundred times better was Abby informing you of how pissed Caitlyn looked, staring at you and Vi before storming back the way she came from. 

“Enough to start a new std?” She flashes her pearly whites at her own joke.

“Violet!” you cringe, making her chuckle. 

As cold as your water-soaked clothing, skin, and drenched hair makes you, the athlete’s soft gaze is a lighter igniting a blaze in the pit of your stomach. For the first time in a long time, protected by the walls of someone’s room, you’re able to explore her face. 

Perfect, full brows are intercepted by a slit with one to match down on the the left of her rosy lips. Sweet freckles dance on and around her nose, and gosh she’s pretty. It’s the same face you’d admired years ago, but you still look at her as if you’ve discovered her beauty all over again. You stand there attempting to pinpoint what shade of blue her eyes are when she finally speaks up. 

“Here,” the athlete steps closer, taking off her thick black coat and handing it over sheepishly. “Can’t do anything about your skirt, but I thought these would help.” A hint of blue and white fabric peeks out from underneath, and you unravel it to reveal a jersey. One of her jerseys. 

There’s a glint of suspicion in your eye, and Violet’s in fear. 

“You just.. keep this in your car? All the time?” You question with a perfectly raised eyebrow. 

Vi clears her throat. Because no, no she doesn’t. She just had to do something to get you in her clothes. 

A beat passes with no response, and finally the pinkette’s eyes are flickering around the room before she turns. “I’ll let you get changed.” 

The door’s opening and closing before you can protest, and it’s finally safe for that suppressed smile to grace your lips without shame.  

It doesn’t take long for you to strip out of your sopping clothes and into the oversized comfiness of Vi’s. You examine yourself in the full length mirror, fixing your wet hair to the best of your ability and running your hands over the warmth of the new clothing. It sMells just like Violet, and you convince yourself that you don’t care, but underneath that protective mask is the lovestruck teenage girl you once were.

Turning on your heels, you gather the wet bundles of fabric and head for the door when someone on the other side beats you to it. 

Correction, the last person you want to see beats you to it. 

Caitlyn’s quick to step inside the room, closing the door with an indecipherable expression plastered on her face. Her brows furrow with more distaste than usual, and her once perfect navy blue locks now have strands messily shaken out of place. Your tongue is strangled by the bite of your teeth. It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes to the back of your head. 

“Violet Vanderson?” She wastes no time, chary eyes examining your face with crossed arms. “Really?”

You’re done holding back, so you scoff.

“Yes, really. What, are you jealous?” you quip. “Y’know what, don’t answer that. I already know.” 

She ignores the sassy remark. “I’m surprised you chose her, considering everything.” 

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Considering, what exactly?” 

Caitlyn’s poker face had been drilled into her since she was a kid, but the bluenette physically had to suppress the amusement from taking over her face when she realized: you had no clue. 

“I just didn’t think she was your type, and that was awfully fast,” she saves. 

“I didn’t cheat on you, if that’s what you’re insinuating.” You spit the words like they burn on your tongue as impatient hands come up to rest on your hips. 

“I’m insinuating that I don’t believe whatever this is.” 

That has you pausing. Your face, demeanor, and attitude all stay the same, but you both notice the shift in the air. 

“I think you realize you messed up when you broke things off, and now you’re playing hard to get.” She continues, stepping forward as her toned arms fall to her sides. 

“There’s no need to play games with me, you know.” 

Cait’s look is condescending, and it only pisses you off more when her hand reaches out to caress yours. The perfect persuasion, an easy fix to all of her problems when the utter of her surname isn’t quite enough. But you’re not easy, and you didn’t mess anything up. So you quickly swat it away, sneering as you step around the tower of a girl and towards the door. 

“Get over yourself, Caitlyn.” 

You exit the room with blood red vision, a fury which follows you on your journey to find Mel in the drunken crowd and pull her to the front while Vi offers to walk both of you to your car. 

And in your red haze, you miss the eye contact Caitlyn and Sevika make from across the crowded room. 

Sweat is dripping from the athletes’ foreheads down to the stretch of their neck as Talis blows his whistle, allowing the players to catch their breaths.  

Normally, Vi would be more than willing to stay longer than the scheduled practice time. Running fun drills with Abby, racing Gert, whatever the matter may be. Hockey is her thing. 

But, at the moment, you’re also ‘her thing’. And right now you were patiently waiting in your apartment for Vi to make an appearance. A friendly one, of course. Away from watching eyes and overwhelming questions, where you could discuss your next moves in peace–as peaceful as you could get with the muscular tease looking at you as if you were a star to wish on at night. 

So she keeps her mouth shut and her eyes trained on Coach Talis (who’s giving some end-of-practice spiel) as Sevika glides up next to her.

She keeps her mouth shut as the brute lets out a soft scoff at how hard Vi’s trying to ignore her. 

She has to bite hard on her tongue when the woman mutters something about the pink-haired athlete needing to ‘give up while she’s still ahead’. 

And her mouth opens immediately when your name falls from Sevika’s lips. “___, she really is somethin’ huh–?” 

“Don’t fuck with me, Sevika,” she threatens, a tad louder than expected. Their stubborn gazes stay locked on one another, and Sevika’s letting out a scoff while squaring her firm shoulders.

“Or what?” the raven throws back, intimidation oozing from her presence.

“Hey! What did I say?” The bubble of their rivalry is popped as Coach Talis raises his voice. 

“That’s it. Bag skates.” 

[REDACTED]: you sure this’ll work? 

When Vi finally shows up at your sun-glistening apartment, her hair is wet from the quick shower she took, she’s a total blubbering mess about how she’s crazy sorry and feels terrible for making you wait an extra hour, and she’s holding one cup of coffee that looks exactly like the one you always order.

“Vi, seriously it’s okay,” you chuckle, and the girl deflates in soft relief. A smile sweet as honey graces your face and Vi finally figures it out: you’re just an angel in disguise.

You reach over from your seat on the couch to take the cup of coffee from her hand. It’s your order to a T, and the sip you take sends a cold trail of liquid down your throat and into the warmth of your stomach. 

“Mmm,” you hum, making Vi malfunction when you lick the remnants from your lips. “Did you chug yours on the way?” you ask.

Perfect blue eyes blink twice while Violet calculates the odds that you’ll say yes if she were to suggest you drop the whole act and venture off on a real date right now. 

“Oh– hell no. I can’t stand coffee. I just went to get you one,” she hums without thought. Fifty-five percent chance, not good enough. 

“Again, I’m sorry. Sevika’s been more of an asshole than usual. Made us run back and forth on the ice until we practically collapsed. Don’t know what the hell she was thinking though, almost missed her shift at that rink..” Violet continues on with conflicted brows furrowing and a hardened gaze. But just like waves washing away at imperfections in grainy sand, the awestruck glimmer in your eyes wipes the fury from her blood. 

“You went just for me?” the question comes out almost as a whisper.

Violet swears she can feel her heart Melting from your actions, and the feeling bubbles its way up as words in her throat. “Of course.”

It’s left at that. Of course, a declaration that it was common sense she’d be of service to you even behind the scenes. Neither of you dare to ask or explain why. For a moment, there’s no words. Just the soft sensation of little breaths, beating hearts, and wandering gazes, but only for a moment.

“Cait doesn’t believe us,” you spill.

Vi can only huff gently, shifting in her seat as her spread legs move a bit wider. 

“She’s smart, I’ll give her that.” Vi hums in thought. The cogs in her brain get distracted and come to a halt when she sees the glistening worry in your orbs, and without thought, her hand is coming up to hold your chin, guiding it to connect your gazes.

“Hey, we’ll fix it, alright?” She reassures, and a thumb glides over your cheek. The moment is tender, something deep and sweet, but it doesn’t take long for the both of you to pull back as your eyes flicker anywhere else. 

“We just need to… to up our game.” At the sight of your confused eyes, she continues. “Give me your phone,” Vi instructs softly, holding her hand out.

You simply obey, placing the device in her hand with a slight squint in your eyes. 

All uncertainty is replaced with giggles and content when Vi holds up the camera. Her left hand holds the phone while her right arm lifts into frame next to her face and flexes, revealing the entirety of her sculpted muscles. 

Jesus, your mind betrays you.

After the snap of the camera, the pinkette hands the device back to you. 

“Make it your lock screen,” she speaks so casually, like the idea behind these actions have no effect on her whatsoever. A black cased phone is then slid into your hands, and big powder-blue eyes are staring at you expectantly. 

“Oh, you want..” you internally cringe at the stammer. 

“Of course, needa see your face too.” she states with a grin.

You’re nodding at that, as if a swarm of what you think are butterflies aren’t rummaging around in your gut. Raising the camera in your manicured fingers, you snap a photo mocking Vi’s. More kissy face, less muscles. The athlete has the biggest grin as she takes the device back, and with a ‘there’, your face is  blessing her lockscreen. 

“So, should I book our room at Mt. Sky, or do you want to?” Her eyes are trained on your face as she drapes both swole arms across the back of the couch. 

You do nothing to hide the surprise on your face. With crisp frosty air, a winter wonderland of snow, and more unplanned pregnancies and sexual noise complaints than any of the campus’s frat parties, Mt. Sky was the unofficial University of Piltover ski trip of the year. Athletes, hookups of athletes, curious freshmen, and anyone who concerned themselves with campus drama banded together for a few days of thrillingly-messy paradise. 

“You wanna share a room?” you ask with raised brows, because ‘wait, we’re going?’ seems out of the question.

The pinkette’s lips curl into a smile, one that flashes the white of her teeth as blue orbs flicker down and up your frame once.

“Yeah, I do.” 

The short silence that follows is smothering, and you swear the room just got a hundred degrees hotter—because there’s the same tease you remember fantasizing over as your pink glitter pen graced the paper of her letter. 

“It’d be weird if we didn’t,” she explains. “Wouldn’t just be Cait questioning us, it’d be everybody,” she tilts her head, and you’re snapped back to the reality of your situation. Fake. 

You’re not looking at the freckled girl as you hum with a nod. 

That has the athlete’s suave persona faltering. A rough hand snakes up to gingerly move a piece of hair from your face. She’s barely touching you, as though you’re more fragile than glass in her grasp. 

“We don’t have to, if you wanna room with Mel that badly–” 

“–No, no I think we should,” you reassure with a smile, because you do want to, more than you probably should, but your brain’s having a very hard time deciphering fantasy from reality. 

It’s her turn to hum, and that tender hand doesn’t leave your face, it only stills as you turn your head completely towards her. 

“You don’t have to do that when we’re in private,” you refer to her wandering hands with a gentle tone. Vi’s eyes soften into something raw and real as she lulls out a response.

“Doesn’t hurt to get comfortable with each other. Right, sunshine?”

Wrong. 

Because it could hurt. It could wound the both of you and cause an ache like never before. Because—admittedly—you don’t know what you’re feeling right now. But more importantly, you don’t know what Violet’s feeling. You had her all figured out at seventeen, but now, you’re unsure of how gentle or reckless she’d be with your heart.

And still, against all the skepticism your brain concocts, you agree. 

“Right.” 

[REDACTED]: Of course I’m sure. Just do what I ask and we’ll both get what we want.

“Late again?” Finn coos, a teasing expression on the raven’s face. 

“Another run in with pinkie,” Sevika smirks, almost seeming proud. 

The man shakes his head with a smile before placing a handful of mail on the counter in front of the pair. “You mind?”

A groan falls from Sevika’s lips as her gaze flickers between him and the letters. “But I have—”

“Please?” the man asks, already inching away from the space. “I just have to deal with something.”

Before she can argue further, Finn thanks her and rushes off towards the rink. The woman’s left muttering swears and rolling her eyes as she rummages through the envelopes filling her space. 

To: Polar Peaks, To: Polar Peaks, To: Sky Young, To: Pola—

She blinks once and her firm hands come to a pause before her fingers are backtracking to a chestnut brown envelope, covered in hearts and kiss marks. 

Sevika’s huffing out a laugh of disbelief. Her eyes trail over every inch of the sickeningly sweet decor. The recipient address is the ice rink, just like the rest of the pile, and the woman’s intrigue only grows as her eyes trail to the top left corner. To the sender. To you. 

“My favorite energy drink?” Vi throws out.

“Berrybulls, specifically the yellow and amber ones.” you quip with confidence, smiling when Vi nods in content. 

A lightbulb flickers across the pink haired girl’s face, and she stops in her tracks, unintentionally pulling you back. You’re standing still now, and as the frigid air threatens to consume your body, the reminder that your hands are intertwined with one another spreads warmth throughout your core. You let yourself forget that it’s for show, and enjoy it. 

“Vi?” you question, stepping a bit closer. 

“This one’s important,” her tone is more serious, and her eyes meet yours as she takes a deep breath.

“What’s… my coffee order?” 

“Oh my gosh–” a joking scoff falls from your lips, and you’re gently shoving the laughing girl as you pull her to continue walking. The warmth of hand holding can only do so much to combat standing still in the chill of winter air. 

“C’mon sunshine, we’ve learned all there is to know. Besides, you really think anyone’s gonna come up and start quizzing us?” 

“No,” you admit as Vi holds you closer with a hand around your waist while more pedestrians enter and exit the sidewalks. “But I think it’s good to know just in case. Besides, I like learning about you.” 

“Oh yeah?” she coos. You hear a phone buzz once. 

“Yeah,” you let out with a giggle. Another buzz, and you’re reaching into your back pocket and tapping on the screen to reveal… nothing. 

kiramman: You have until the end of the trip. kiramman: If you don’t tell her, I will.

Is it possible to feel complete peace and soul-shredding anxiety simultaneously? 

On one hand, you’re having the most fun you’ve had in a long time. The drive to the resort with Mel—and her newfound friend Elora— was filled with guttural laughter. The three of you screamed songs at such a volume you’re surprised the windows didn’t burst. 

When you arrive, you’re trapped by the strong arms of Abby who’s lifting you into the air with her hug. Vi has to be the one to mutter “That’s enough, Abs..”, earning a laugh from the surrounding teammates, who are quick to tug you and your friends into conversation. 

There’s arms around your waist and a bulky body encasing yours while you sit around a fireplace, quiet giggles to each other when you’re bored of the group conversation, and a sweet goodbye kiss to your forehead when Vi and her peers leave to ski. The day progresses perfectly. 

On the other hand, you can feel as Caitlyn’s eyes follow you. A predator stalking its prey. And even though you’re not afraid of the girl, you wonder what it’s going to take for her to throw in the towel. 

“Was the sex that good?” Mel’s golden eyes are both teasing and genuinely questioning you. 

“You’re unbelievable,” you throw back with a laugh. 

“I’m serious, why is she so persistent? Does your tongue have a built in vibrator?—”

“Mel!” 

She’s giggling with you now, face falling into the plush of the king sized bed you’re both sprawled out on. 

“By the way, watch out. Your girlfriend’s biggest fan decided to show up this year,” she flips over onto her back, head tilted to look at you with a pitying–but still undeniably smug–expression.

“Sevika?” you whine and she nods. “She never comes to Mt. Sky. She’s just... anti-fun.” 

Mel hums. “A refined Kiramman has turned into a borderline stalker, Sevika Grove is coming on ski trips, what’s next? Aliens?”

“Surprised the aliens weren't first.” 

Your giggles are cut short as Elora knocks at your already open door, and Mel’s swiftly coming to a stand. 

“Talk to you later?” she offers, and you smile with a nod. 

The tranquility of an empty room only lasts so long, because within seconds, Vi is bursting into the space and hastily shutting the door. You hear the click of the lock and jolt up with confusion written across your face. 

“Vi? What’s—” 

“Cait’s on her way up here,” she speaks with haste.

“I could talk to her, if you want. Just say the word,” Vi offers, and there’s no time to overanalyze the tightness in your chest at the idea of the pinkette protecting you. 

Thousands of possibilities fly throughout your racing brain. Talking went in her ear and out the other (or, rather, around her head entirely), and going radio silent only amplified her stubbornness. The way you see it, the only thing left to do is play Caitlyn’s petty game, to make it clear that the two of you were done. 

Your brain is completely heated and fuzzy at the idea, but you have no time to waste as you hop off of the bed and over to the butch. 

“We’re gonna have sex,” you state. 

Vi’s completely stopped working. That’s it—she’s died. She’s died and gone to heaven. That’s the only plausible explanation for—

“Fake! Fake sex, I mean.”

Well that makes more sense. 

“Fake–what? You’ve gotta explain a little better than that,” she’s trying to suppress the color from showing in her cheeks, and a hand comes up to run through her hair. 

“Just—” you stammer, moving the girl by the arm so that you’re both a few feet away from the door, leaned up against the wall with Vi hovering over you. Your hand stays on her arm, which is gently placed on the side of your waist. The room’s air grows thicker by the second, and tension oozes from every movement made. 

“This doesn't feel very fake, sweetheart.” Her voice is lower, more sultry, and it sends a shiver straight up your spine. 

“We’re gonna…” gonna faint. The sound of footsteps power walking down the hallway throws your brain back into action. “Just follow my lead,” you breathe.

The athlete’s in a state of utter confusion. She’s squinting harder than ever as you bite your lip, seemingly in thought, before you send a wave of pure shock throughout her core. 

You moan. 

Not a whine, not a whimper, not even a wince, a raw moan that compels something in her to twitch. 

“Violet,” you’re singing, eyes closed, and your head thrown to the side. Out of embarrassment or getting into character, she’s not sure. She’s not sure of anything, quite frankly, because how on earth is she expected to think when you’re squealing her name like she owns you?

“Oh yes—please please,” you coo. As if someone flipped a switch, you’re opening your eyes to look up at the athlete. 

“Say something,” you snap in a whisper. 

There’s no wasted time, because Violet’s thoughts spill at your approval. 

“So fuckin’ pretty. Who knew your moans sounded so good, baby?” 

You’re about to lose it. All sense of good judgment—or what’s left—is flying out of the window and being replaced by the dirty haze of your mind. You can’t help the way your hand is gently trailing up Vi’s arm and sliding down to rest against her abs. You don’t miss the way her grip around you tightens.  

You expect her to be done, but Vi’s kept these thoughts tucked away for way too long. If they’d be of any service to you, she might as well let them out. 

“Bet she couldn’t fuck you like this, huh? No angel, she couldn’t.”  

A symphony of grunts, whimpers, and moans of passion decorate not only the room, but the ears of Caitlyn. Your navy haired ex lingers outside the door, seeing nothing but blood red as she listens to the noises you used to make for her. The noises Vi never made for her. The newfound passion that the pinkette pulled out of you, one that Cait never could. 

With clenched, clammy fists and gritted teeth, Caitlyn reluctantly drags herself away from the door and down the hallway. 

Like coming down from a high, shallow breaths fill yours and Vi’s ears before all sounds subside. Neither of you dare to move as the clack of Caitlyn’s feet storm down the hall and out of earshot. Colorful orbs stare down at the floor or up at the white ceiling, because they’re suddenly oh so intriguing. 

And maybe, just maybe, this is the moment you realize not everything is as imaginary as you thought. 

Meanwhile, Vi’s imagining what the hell she’d say in this situation if her brain were computing. Because the sight of you throwing your head back in fake pleasure and spilling noises straight from your core was entirely soul-shifting. 

And it’s different, to be seeing you this close. Granted, she’s been closer. Graced the skin of your forehead or cheeks with her soft and scar-decorated lips more than once. But here, hovering over your softened body, her hand connecting to your waist with the gentlest of touches, and her eyes firmly memorizing every angle of your face, it’s different. Everything’s softer, and Violet’s able to relish in your raw loving aura, rather than put on a performance for the skeptical eyes of others. 

And then you laugh. 

You laugh, and laugh, and laugh. So hard that you don’t notice the way Vi smiles, one that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

And definitely, oh definitely, this is the moment she realizes she’s undeniably smitten. 

“Think we’ll get the first noise complaint?” You joke while coming down from your fit of laughter. 

That pulls a laugh from Vi’s throat, one that has her leaning forward with a deep breath after it bubbles out. The soft of her forehead tenderly meets yours, and the room’s heart rate rises exponentially, but neither of you squirm out of your positions. Because this is exactly where you want to be.

You can’t see it as your eyelids flutter shut, but Vi’s left hand wraps around your waist to meet her right, cradling you in a way that’s so natural, so sweet, so real. A cradle that protects and shields you from forces you can’t handle alone. A shelter for disasters from tsunamis to the cold chill of winter. From pretending to be your girlfriend to replacing your wet party clothes, all the way back to being your first standing ovation. Vi is your refuge. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, worried you’ll crack the faultless atmosphere. “Can’t believe you’re putting up with this– with me.” 

Her grip lightly tightens. “I’d do it over and over again.” 

She would, and she will, if you let her. 

You feel the truth in her words, and your eyes flutter open to pull back, just enough to look into those perfect blue specks. 

The pair of you stay there for what feels like forever, examining the watercolor paintings that you call your eyes. And–although she could stare at you for the rest of her life–Vi physically can’t wait any longer. Like magnets, your lips are tugging her forward. Centimeter by centimeter. Inch by inch. Heads tilting, eyes half lidded, and breaths hitching. Vi can practically taste the plush of your feature when—

“Yo! You guys in there?”

Abby’s fist thumps on the door three times. And as fast as you connected, you’re drifting apart.

you don’t care whether she knows or not. you just want her crawling back to you. not happening.  kiramman: I’ll tell her.

“Would you rather go a month without sex, or a month without candy?” 

“What kind of stupid ass question is that?” Vi throws at Abby, who’s snobbishly leaning back in the heated water as if she’d given the ultimatum of the century. 

Her newest middle school party game is would you rather, and while Vi couldn’t care less about the event itself, she’s secretly over the moon at the effort her teammates and close friends are making to connect with you. 

“A month without candy,” you cooly state as you look down at the water. Making the relationship more believable. That’s all you were doing.

That enables a chain of raised eyebrows and looks to Vi, whereas others let out sly whistles and snickers, throwing out little quips like “you hear that, superstar?”. 

“Alright, alright,” she’s calming them with a tug at the corners of her lips and a roll of her eyes. You only snicker to yourself at the odds, as if you didn’t have sex— fake sex with the girl minutes prior.

Leaning closer against Vi’s skin, plush bodies warming each other in the bubbly heat of the hot tub, you’re almost completely relaxed. The outdoors is the perfect flaky winter wonderland you expected, cabins further out from the resort look like the coziest of all shelters, and the milky mountains in the distance tie the atmosphere together. 

And while you’re focused on the landscape, Violet’s eyes are completely trained on you. 

She examines the way you sit so properly in her lap, the way your legs squirmed as she slid her hands away from your thigh and around the small of your waist (so others could see your contact.. of course), how you get so comical and chattery once you’re finally comfortable in a group, and the angelic resting look on your face when you’re finally at ease. 

And neither of you know it, but when the conversation is one that allows you to listen instead of talk, you’re both daydreaming about the endless possibilities of this night. The potential of this moment, as well as that of the countless others you’ve had since this entire ordeal began. 

Neither of you know it, but you’re both considering the idea that life could be like this all the time. The two of you snuggled up, surrounded by those cherished, laughing until you just can’t breathe. 

A chin comes to rest gently on your right shoulder, and Vi’s breath sends a shiver throughout your body faster than the crisp winter air ever could. 

“Do you always sit with your legs crossed in pools?” she teases, voice low, like she’s sharing a secret with you. Only you. 

“No,” you simply hum. Your tongue is prodding the inside of your cheek in thought, and you go through with the lightbulb in your head. 

“It’s a great reminder of how dangerously close your hands are to my bikini though, isn’t it?” 

The pads of her fingers that were once tracing meaningless patterns on your waist come to a stop, and you can hear the smirk in Vi’s voice. 

“You want me to move them?” she breathes.

Your response is almost automatic.

“No.” 

The conversation of what would’ve happened if Abby hadn’t knocked on your door was yet to come, but the newfound tension and playfulness that spilled from both of your lips was undeniable. 

Vi grins at your confidence, but underneath the suave persona, she knows you’ll be the death of her. 

“Bold girl,” she hums.

You’re so trapped in your playful banter that you don’t notice the way the rest of your peers are leaving, running off towards a different attraction of the resort, only god knows what. 

“You were pretty convincing up there,” your sly lips are curivng up at the corners. “You have fake sex often?”

“Nothing fake about my sex.” 

You’re snickering at her confidence, relishing in the way her arm hardens around you as she chuckles. 

“Don’t get cocky. I’m sure someone’s had to fake-orgasm with you once.” Maybe the lying’s getting to you, because you know in your heart of hearts that’s the furthest thing from the truth. 

“You really believe that?” she speaks in a lower tone, head snaking around to make eye contact with you. 

Like a clock rewinding, you’re seventeen again. 

Not physically, nor mentally, but your full heart is pounding the same rhythm as when you first fell for the tough, pink haired beauty in your writing class. Your breaths are shallow, gazes locked, and the warmth between you is incomparable to any sensation you’ve ever experienced prior. 

“Thought so,” she brazenly states after your lack of words, and you’re smiling in thought before gently splashing water towards the smug girl, Melting her charming essence that has you by the throat. 

Vi gasps through a laugh. Soon, she’s threatening to splash you back while you laugh and squeal through your begs for mercy. 

And although your vision isn’t flawless through the squinted happiness of your eyes, you can recognize that swinging navy blue hair approaching you.

Fuck. 

“She doesn’t give up,” you think out loud, and Vi doesn’t need to waste energy on turning her head to register who you’re talking about. 

You don’t see it through your irritated gaze, but Vi feels a jolt of worry crawl up her spine. While you worried about Cait smothering you for the rest of eternity, Vi’s skin shivers at the idea of her place in your heart being twisted from one of love and trust to hatred.

She wants to tell you, wants you to make the conscious decision to love her despite any past affairs.

But she sure as hell wasn’t going to do it now, while you’re warming up on her water-covered body. And she sure as hell couldn’t let Caitlyn poison your mind with it.

So there she sits, staring into your soul with those loyal eyes that silently swear they’d do anything for you. And, understandably, Vi makes all sense of good judgement Melt from your brain until it’s a useless pile of mush. 

So when Cait nears, practically striding her way to your uneasy soul, you make a decision. 

You kiss Violet. 

It’s a quick shift in atmosphere. One moment, your heart is beating out of fear, and the next it’s being thrashed around your chest by the ascended butterflies from your stomach. You turn in her lap to have easier access to her mouth, and the connection of your plush mouths is anything but fragile. It’s messy, hungry, starved even. Your lips dance in unison, and Vi’s sculpted arm wraps around you and gently holds the back of your neck. The way she’s handling you coupled with the burning water is giving your body a fever. 

You don’t know when Caitlyn sees you, how long she glares at your wet mouths and pressed bodies in pure anger, or how long it takes for her to storm off in defeat, because every inch of your mind is focused on the pinkette holding you as if you’re all she has. 

And it’s this moment that you finally accept the truth that’s kept itself hidden in your gut, you want her. And those sparkly powder-blue eyes are telling you that she wants—needs you too. 

But when you slide your hand down to hers and shyly move her calloused fingers to what little fabric’s covering your chest, she’s pulling back. There’s resistance in the movement, but she forces herself to disconnect from your wanting lips nonetheless. 

“Can’t,” she whispers, breathless.

You freeze, big dazed eyes blinking in confusion and embarrassment. ”But..” is all you can muster before Vi opens her mouth.

“Angel–it’s not that I don’t want this, I’m just—” 

The athlete’s rubbing her temples. Her mind, body, and heart must be at war inside of her, because each is telling her a different path to take, and she looks so conflicted as she speaks. 

“You don’t want this,” she finally decides.

“What?” is all you manage to choke out. 

“You don’t want this.” she repeats, less convinced than the first time it left her lips. 

You can only scoff, attempting to hide the bullet to your heart and ego. 

“You don’t know what I want,” you counter, and the ache in your voice sends a crack through Vi’s heart. “Why are you denying this?” 

Because this is fake, a scheme to get your ex girlfriend off your back. Because I haven’t been completely honest with you, and for that I don’t deserve a sweet love like this. Not yet. 

But instead of that, or even coming clean to you altogether, Vi sighs. And for the first time, her eyes are disloyal, looking anywhere but yours. 

You’re huffing, shoving stiff arms off of you. You pull yourself from the hot tub into the freezing air of the night, a replica of your once blazing heart turning ice cold. 

“Whatever, Violet.” you spit out, and just like that, you’re gone. 

The debate over soul-shredding anxiety and complete peace has come to a halt, because the ache of a pummeled ego and a confused heart that’s afraid to beat outweighs both. 

You didn’t sleep in yours and Vi’s shared room that night. Instead, you grabbed a pillow and stormed over to Mel and Elora’s, who were happy to have you. Making up a lie about dying for a girls’ night, you gossiped and giggled, arguably with a stronger poker face than the Kirammans, before a yawn finally slipped from Mel’s mouth and exhaustion spread throughout the air. 

At last, in the silence of night, salt ridden tears noiselessly slide down the bridge of your nose and pile onto the cool fluff of your pillow. 

As if your lack of adequate sleep and racing mind didn’t have you at your wits end, the next day was twice as cruel on you. Ignoring one athlete was a walk in the park, but avoiding two, while trying not to raise suspicion, is just as hard as it sounds. 

Caitlyn’s in the hallway, so you rush to your room. Violet’s in the room, so you venture off to the spa with Mel and Elora. Caitlyn’s entering the spa right before you finish up, so you’re suggesting a lap of skiing to the girls, but Vi’s exiting the room in her snow gear when you near the door. 

You just couldn’t win. 

So when you hear the soft voice coming from the doorway, you don’t even bother to lift your body from the plush of your blanket. 

“Don’t go,” Vi pleads, gently shutting the wooden door and ridding herself of her puffy jacket. 

The pinkette’s still, waiting for you to move, to do or say something—anything, but you do nothing of the sort. When she concludes it’s safe she takes small, soft steps towards the edge of your bed and you feel the mattress dip under pure muscle. 

With still hands and a timid heart, Vi speaks the first words into the air. 

“Well, we broke our little rule set.”

Her playful smile is uneasy, one made when she examines your weary face too hard. And when she notices the lack of expression on your face, it flattens out into worried brows and soft lips. 

“I’m sorry,” slips from her lips, prompting you to turn your head towards the pinkette. 

“Stop. You don’t have to apologize for your feelings… or lack thereof,” you whisper the last part as if it’s shameful. 

With a sigh, you hoist yourself up to sit straight and lean against the decorative headboard. With fidgeting hands laid in your lap and eyes that travel anywhere but the anxious girl before you, you speak.

“I just thought that there was— something,” you start. “And.. and maybe it’s stupid, but I thought that maybe all of this means something. Maybe my letters getting out wasn’t the worst thing, because maybe things between us could be exactly how I wanted when I was writing them.” 

Vi feels terrible for giving you emotional whiplash, but she can’t stand to see you beating yourself up over something you want— something the both of you crave: eachother. 

Tender fingers snake their way up to your face and hook on your chin, tilting your head towards her alluring orbs. 

“You really believe that?” she asks, eyes squinted.

“Believe.. what?” 

“That I don’t feel things for you?” she asks like the answer is the most obvious thing in the world.

“I couldn’t tell you all the things you do to me. All the ways you make me feel,” she slides the hand that’s cupping your face to gently tap the side of your pretty little head. 

“Here, and.. here,” her finger grazes your skin as it skims down to tap once against your encaptured heart. “And….”

She cuts the sentence short, dropping her hand down to intertwine with one of yours, because you’re supposed to be having a serious conversation, so she needs to focus. 

“You do terribly good things to me, sweetheart.” 

“Then why did you push me away?” you whisper to combat the rapid speed of your heart as adrenaline rushes through your veins from Vi’s simple and sensual touches. 

She contemplates it, ripping the bandage off and telling you the truth, she really does. Would it be that big of a deal? Would you take it with ease and laugh at her anxiety, caressing her like she dreams and letting her finally place a guilt-free kiss upon your soft lips? Or would you crumble at the news, and let the trust you’ve built up shatter with it? 

“I didn’t know whether it was real or not,” she decides: a lie. “I know that the way my heart races for you is real, the realest thing there is. But I know it’s easy to get caught up in a fake high, and when you were kissing me I just—” she sighs at the ramble, but the gentle squeeze you give her hand guides her through it. 

“I just wanted to let you decide if this is really what you want. Not because of Cait or anyone else. Just you.”

She’ll tell you. Eventually. She silently swears it to herself. 

But right now, Vi’s looking at you the same way she did that day, and it’s suffocating. 

Big pretty eyes examine every inch of you with that awestruck gaze, a child watching a shooting star pass by. Except this time, she wouldn’t let you leave. 

This time, you, that creative girl with clammy palms and shy eyes, watching her bubblegum haired love give her a standing ovation— that shooting star would come crashing down and right into the warm arms in which she belongs. 

“The love I have for you.. it never went away, it just transformed,” you confess.

Violet’s once worried expression morphs. She’s still soft, still trapped in the beautiful moment, but there’s a newfound confidence behind her demeanor. 

“The love I have for you has stayed the same. Ever since that stupid writing class—” you giggle at her words, and she does the same, “I think I’ve loved you for years. It’s left such an ache in my heart, baby.” 

There’s a glitch somewhere in your brain, because the athlete’s words mixed with your newest nickname is causing a system overload. 

You’re suddenly very aware of the amber musk filling your nostrils, and Vi’s proximity has you squirming, soft hand gently squeezing at hers which carresses you so gingerly. You’re trapped between the headboard and her oh-so-close body, and it’d be a lie to say any part of you is complaining. 

“I can.. I can make that ache go away,” you whisper, shy head tilting as you wait for her approval. 

The suave, player-like girl is back in full force. With a notorious smirk in place, she’s leaning closer, tilting her head opposite of yours and lining up her plush lips with yours. 

“Yeah, you can.” 

That’s all it takes for your lips to come crashing together at full force. It’s messy, loving, and infuriatingly sexy all at once, and you don’t have any brain power left to think about it. All of your energy, every bit of your soul is being put into showing this girl how you really feel. 

The atmosphere feels heavier and lighter simultaneously in the best way possible. Vi’s kissing you like you’re the air she needs to breathe, and drinking you in like your mouth is water and the torturous years leading up to this have taken place in the desert. 

For the first time, the pair of you silently agree that this is real. Real touches, real passion, real tongues gliding against one another, and real desire for more. 

You hum into Vi’s mouth as she ravishes you, and your hands find their way to tangle in her fluffy scalp as she effortlessly switches places with you and lifts you into her lap while she relaxes back against the headboard. You can’t help but chuckle as her hands move to cup the fat of your ass, causing her to grin through kisses until you finally stop, because your lips are practically peppering her teeth. 

“What’s so funny?” you ask through a snicker. Vi shakes her head, sneaking kisses down your jaw and the stretch of your neck. 

“Nothin’, I just don’t want this to end,” she confesses, ending with a tender kiss to your collarbone. 

An uncontrollable smile fights its way onto your face. 

“Well I’m not going anywhere,” you assure.

She nods, wrapping strong arms around your torso to pull your body as close to hers as possible. 

“Neither am I, sunshine.” 

Violet’s learned three new things since you fell asleep in her arms. 

One, you’re a cuddler. Every inch of you has touched, skimmed, or wrapped around the butch since you laid upon the soft matter of the bed. Her favorite position is when you curl yourself up against her chest and slide a leg inbetween hers to let them intertwine.

Two, every inch of you still smells like that perfect mixture of cotton candy and strawberry she remembers from years ago. 

And three, she’s completely whipped for you. For your brain, your voice, the giggles you make between kisses, the way you give your all to her, and don’t get her started on your body. She’s got it bad. 

So, the struggle she faced when she had to snake out of your grasp was ultimately the hardest thing she’s done in her entire life. 

The love-hazed girl didn’t bother to do anything but slip on some shoes and run a hand through her hair, because within minutes she’d be right back next to you where she belongs. 

At least, that was the plan. 

She doesn’t know why the loud cacophony of cackles catches her attention, because she knows how obnoxious her teammates can be, but it does. She lazily turns her head once, letting it lull back before the alarm of confusion goes off in her brain, and she’s turning towards the sound once again. 

Sevika, a few members of the basketball team, and some others she doesn’t recognize, all sit against the couches and chairs in the lounging area. But there’s no relaxation in the way they rest against the furniture. Each is laced with anticipation, and their eyes all lay on the buff brownskin girl who’s smirks as if she’s discovered a pot of gold. 

“Your voice of honey soothes my soul, and the picture of delicate curls falling to frame your face as you lift me onto my feet will stay forever plastered in my mind,” the woman spits.

The words are so sensual, so raw, so genuine, filled with nothing but passion, but Sevika’s interpretation does it no justice. 

And Violet knows exactly who wrote those words of desire. 

Her feet move quicker than she’s ever felt the need to before. 

When she nears the group, a face of pure determination, she spots it. A brown envelope, decorated with a bow and pretty hearts accompanied by a single kiss mark. So similar to the one you made for Vi all those years ago. 

“There’s the woman of the hour,” Sevika taunts loudly, leaning back in her seat. Her fingers tap the letter in her hands against her own thigh, a reminder that your past words of hope and love still lie with her. “Or, would you be the second? No… no, that’d be this uh, Skye, huh?” 

Sevika’s smile is poisonous, infecting Violet with a rage she’s never experienced before. 

“What are you doing with that?” Vi’s practically seething, eyes trained on the brown paper between Sevika’s fingers.

“Found it on the ground, guess it slipped away from your girl before she could mail it off to her secret lover,” she lies, throwing her hands up in faux innocence. 

“I swear to God— fucking give it to me, and I’ll forget this happened.”

“And you’ll forget that she’s dreaming of someone else’s mouth?” The burly woman scoffs, coming to a stand directly infront of Violet. The space between them is thinning, disintegrated by rageful tension.

“Seriously, I don’t see why you’re going through all this trouble for a whore, pinkie.” 

Faster than anyone in the room can register, Vi’s fist comes up to smash into Sevika’s jaw. The slam is loud, echoing throughout the room until it creates a stunned silence.

Sevika’s hand comes up to hold her jaw, craning it as the metallic taste of blood sets itself on her tongue. 

Within seconds, she’s lunging right at Vi. Their fists look like skin colored blobs in the air from how fast they land punches to one another’s guts. They’re thrashing around in anger, threatening the space they reside in, before four onlookers break them apart.

Some whoop and holler, others laugh and speculate exactly who ‘won’, but neither of the girls care. Through their heavy panting and darkened gazes, they’re only focused on one thing: the brown envelope that now lies between Vi’s fingers. 

With a cocky, bruised grin and the satisfying drug of adrenaline, Violet turns on her heels and stumbles out of sight. 

[REDACTED]: listen, toots. i have a better plan.  … [REDACTED]: I’m listening. 

With the way neither of you dare to move, any third party would think the two of you are paralyzed; and you are, by love.

It’s been five minutes since you’ve woken up, and Vi’s sweet gaze keeps you in a warm, butterfly inducing trance. Neither of you move from your position in the bed, savouring deep synced breaths, snuggling under the blankets, and wrapping around one another. You’re sticking together like your feelings are superglue. 

Finally, one of the pinkette’s hands rubs at the small of your back, drawing sweet nothings on your dimples and the line that trails up your perfect torso. 

“I haven’t slept that long in ages,” you hum, making Violet pull you just a bit closer. 

“Maybe you should sleep with me every night,” she concludes, sending you a smile that has you giggling with a little ‘oh sure’. 

She sees your sweet bubble of happiness wobble when your eyes squint at the sight of her chin, now decorated with a blossomed bruise. A soft hand comes up to graze the purple mark as you ask, “When did that happen?” 

As fast as the pinkette opens her mouth to speak, it shuts. Because she definitely can’t tell you that Sevika’s tried to embarrass you by reading one of your old love letters to a group of your classmates. Why has she become more of a pain now than ever? Vi hasn’t figured that out yet. But she has come to one conclusion: worrying you wouldn’t do any good. What you didn’t have to know, you wouldn’t. 

She quickly takes your wandering hand in hers, intertwining fingers and giving them a little squeeze. 

“I’m fine, sunshine. Got up all hazy last night to turn the light off since we forgot. Completely ran into the wall, that’s all.” Although Vi isn’t a klutz, it seems like a perfectly plausible story, so you don’t push. 

You only chuckle, shaking your head. “Be more careful. I have to get you home in one piece.” 

A soft smile spreads across her face, and she’s kissing your knuckles while responding. “Of course, angel.” 

While you scolded Vi about her bruises, you were set up to get some of your own. 

“Vi I’m not sure if this is a great idea,” you worry, looking down at the girl who gets on her knees to lace up your skates. 

The freezing temperature kissed your nose a subtle hint of red, but the beautiful sunlight gently coating the flurry white wonderland that surrounded the city made up for it. All around you, classmates and city locals of all ages glide around the ice rink with glee. Sounds of love, joy, and the squeals or laughter of tripping inexperienced-skaters fill your ears. 

“Why not?” she asks, eyes flickering up to yours for just a second before moving on to the other foot. The picture of her is just all too much, and you have to look away to regather your thoughts. 

“I know that you’re a hockey player so this may come as a shock to you, but not everyone is good at ice skating,” she grins, rolling her eyes at your sarcasm. “I’m just gonna fall on my ass a bunch,” you whine.

“And I’ll be right there to pick you back up.” Vi’s confidence melts away your worries. Finally, as she finishes with your skates, you playfully roll your eyes and come to a stand (with the help of her strong hands). 

The thinning space between you two and your starry eyes which look up at Vi keep her in a trance as her arms mindlessly wrap around your waist, hands dangerously close to your ass. 

“Promise not to let me go?” you whisper through a grin.

“Shit. I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

And she doesn’t. Through your first steps and little slips on the ice, Vi stands right beside you, holding your hand with tender care. 

“This is pretty romantic, right?” she hums in your ear as you attempt to push your feet against the ice like she taught you. 

“As long as I don’t completely eat it.” you warn, eyes trained to the ice.

She snickers.

“Well, you look sexy when you’re focused, I’ll give you that.”

Butterflies erupt throughout your stomach, and a warmth is travelling up your body as you look at Violet with a faux sternness. 

“Quiet. You’re distracting me,” you tease.

Vi’s tongue pokes at the inside of her cheek in thought before she’s letting go of your hand and coming to stand right infront of you. Sculpted arms snake around your waist, and the lack of space between you two as Vi stares with a hungry gaze is making your body feel weak. 

“I’m distracting you, sweetheart?” 

You quietly suck in a breath of icy cold air, searching for a response in her pretty powder-blue eyes before she snickers once more, stepping back. At last, you feel like you can breathe.

She takes you around the ice, helping you reach a good foundation to feel comfortable skating on your own, and the ‘good job, baby’ she praises you with sends a sweet sensation throughout your body. As you’re gliding away from her, giggling in surprise as she pretends to chase you with her intimidating hockey stance, a group of her teammates call for her attention.

She pauses, breath kissing your ear as she lets go of your body. “I’ll just be a second, yeah?” 

You nod, sending her off to the group with a smile. 

And for a moment, everything’s perfect. Until it isn’t. 

The call of your name from her mouth freezes your body faster than the chill of the ice ever could. Effortlessly, Caitlyn’s gliding up to you with a calculated and calm expression. She knows you can’t get far in those skates. 

First, you’re praying that Vi will look over at you and race back just in time to save you. Then, anger’s bubbling in the pit of your stomach, and you whip around to make eye contact with the navy-haired girl. Finally—

“What, Caitlyn?” you snap without hesitation. 

The girl’s expression refuses to waver, and toned arms are crossing with the notorious sly smirk of a Kiramman. “Never thought I’d see you with blades on your feet.” 

“Never thought I’d see you begging for attention, but here we are,” you quip, placing your hands on your hips, completely distracted from the ice below you. 

Her arms uncross with an amused hum, and for a moment you think that maybe she’s getting off on the negative energy you throw her way. But then she begins to push her skates against the ice, slowly circling you. 

“I just thought I’d check in on you, sweetheart. You’ve forgotten to answer my calls and texts–”

“You know damn well I haven’t forgotten, Cait—”

“—And I wanted to applaud you in person for being so understanding about what happened with Violet and I.”

She comes to a stop, and so does your heart. The little red organ skips a beat before continuing, pace matching your weariness. 

“What are you talking about?” you question, brows furrowed so innocently that Caitlyn has to stop herself from laughing.

“She hasn’t told you?” The bluenette makes no attempt to act shocked. Your eyes lock, and her skates scrape against the ice until she’s hovering right over you. 

“Weren’t you wondering where she slept after you left her at the jacuzzi?” The visible air that blows from her mouth is just as harsh as her words, stabbing your heart with its icicles.  

“What are you..” you mutter, but the words die in your throat.

“Vi and I had a… rekindling.” Her head tilts with a cocky smile. “It was bound to happen I suppose. Once a hookup, always a—”

“I don’t believe you.” Your stern words contradict the uncertainty tainting your voice. 

Caitlyn doesn’t speak. She simply reaches into her back pocket, pulls out her phone, and scrolls to open her messages with Vi, gently placing the device into your quivering fingers.

Really? My ex girlfriend? You’re a class act. i’ll love her better than you ever could, caitlyn Is this to get back at me? You’re the one who ended our little affair. stop texting my number. Come to think of it, I never told her about us.  Does she even know?  fucking drop it cait You have until the end of the trip.  If you don’t tell her, I will. you don’t care whether she knows or not. you just want her crawling back to you. not happening.  I’ll tell her.

“You see it now? How easy it was for her to lie to you? She doesn’t love you, not like I do.” 

“Angel?” Vi’s voice calls out. The once sweet melody to your ears now erupts a symphony of confusion and anger inside of you. Did she plan out those nicknames?

Before you know it, Vi’s coming up behind you and placing an arm around your waist. Instead of feeling comfort, you’re suffocated. How can she fake it so easily?

“Can I help you?” the pink haired girl spits to the Kiramman with a voice of pure disgust. How could you have known?

“I was just leaving,” Caitlyn hums. With the fulfilling sight of your aghast eyes and Violet’s hidden panic, she skates off. 

The two of you are uncomfortably quiet for a moment. Your body’s still, save for the racing thoughts in your mind, but when Vi’s hand on you tightens you’re breaking from her grasp.

And then she sees it.

The broken gaze in your sorrowful eyes, the one look she desperately wanted to avoid. Her worst nightmare has become her reality. 

And you see it.

The way her gaze goes from calm and collected to a deer in headlights. It’s like a switch was flipped in her brain, and Violet’s mask comes off as she speaks. 

“I can explain—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your heartbroken voice drowns her out. 

“You don’t understand,” she pleas, but you’re pushing your weight into one foot in an attempt to turn yourself around on the ice.

“I understand perfectly fine you backstabbing–”

Your knees come slamming into the icy ground with a thud, and the newly proclaimed backstabber is at your side, attempting to lift you onto your feet. You shove her off with a huff, using one knee to come to a wobbly stand. 

“Just..” you start, ignoring the tears of frustration that bubble in the corners of your eyes, accompanied by the prickly curse in your throat. “Just stay away from me, Vi.” 

And you’re gone.

Vi obeys your wishes and leaves you alone like you asked.

But only for the next two hours, while she figures out what the hell she’s going to say to make up for the pain she’s caused you. Because she did hook up with Cait, but the last time was was months ago, before either of them had anything with you. Because she knows Cait did something to fuck with your head, and now her baby’s fretting and scared to trust anyone. Because she’s in love with you and only you, and she’s never going to forgive herself if she doesn’t get you back. 

So when she slips into your shared room and finds you packing your things, she braces herself for the yelling and cussing she expects to come.

But, it never happens. Instead, you look at her with a woeful expression, and turn back to your open luggage with a scoff. 

“I knew Caitlyn was fucked up, but I never imagined you’d have as many screws loose. You’ll be perfect for each other,” you spit, the words acid to Violet. Manicured hands move at a fast pace, roughly tossing in clothes and skin products like they mean nothing to you. “And I know we’re not actually dating, but to fuck the one person we’re trying to lie to? Then come to me the next day acting like you…” you trail off, discarding the sentence like trash, but she knows what you were trying to say: like you love me. 

Wait, what?

“Hold on, hold on. I haven’t fucked Kiramman.”

“..So you weren’t with her the night I slept in Mel’s room?” you squint.

“Fuck no. It’s been months since we’ve hooked up, angel. Like, before you and her were even a thing–”

“So you did fuck! Jesus, why didn’t you tell me?” you raise your voice in question, whipping around to face the girl with exhausted body language. When Vi’s mouth hangs open with no clue of a better response than ‘I was scared’, you shake your head, coming to conclusions yourself.

“That’s why you did this, right? I should’ve asked more about why you proposed this whole scheme,” you start, walking towards the nightstand. “Make me look like an idiot? Get back at Cait? Get with Cait? What was it?” 

“No– no. I was going to tell you angel, God I swear, I just didn’t know how to tell you without making it hurt. I don’t want anything with Caitlyn, cross my heart, her and I are history. Everything I said about you– everything I felt with you is real.” She’s speaking so tenderly, inching closer to your frame.

And you would’ve turned, would’ve calmed down enough to finish this conversation civilly, maybe believe her. 

But instead, you’re staring at the opened drawer of the bedside table, right at the chesnut brown envelope decorated with hearts. The same one you wrote for Skye all those years ago. 

You’re completely over this.

Violet’s close enough to see everything now. The envelope and letter, the way your face is morphing through thousands of different expressions, and the tears that finally begin to slide down your cheeks as you lift the paper into the air and choke out words.

“Why the hell do you have this? How much did you plan to humiliate me, huh?” you ask through sweet sobs.

Violet sighs, because everything she’s kept from you is hitting her. All of her mistakes are crashing down upon her at once. All she wants is to fix it for you. 

“That’s not– fuck this looks bad.” She’s cursing herself for everything she didn’t tell you, all the chances she had to come clean and never did out of fear. 

“Sevika had it and I took it from her. We fought over it and I hid it here because I didn’t want you to be embarrassed. That’s all. I swear.” 

She watches your glossy eyes flicker to her bruised jaw that you touched so lovingly that morning, to her eyes that beg you to forgive her, and to your bag as you walk towards it.

“Well you don’t have to worry about me anymore, Violet. This– us, whatever we are is done. ” You knuckle away your tears, sniffing and pulling at the handle of your suitcase.

The pinkette takes no action to hide the dread that fills her face, quickly following your motion around the room. 

“So we’re just breaking–” she stops. Her heart is racing at an ungodly speed, and the next words come out as a horrified mumble, “We’re just over? Like that?” 

There’s a pregnant pause, and for the last time, you look back at Vi, voice clear. 

“We were never together, Violet.” 

There’s nothing she can say to rebuttal, or stop you from walking out of that room, because despite both of your desires, it was true. 

For the next two days, your bed becomes your safe haven. You put your phone on ‘do not disturb’, wrap yourself in the thickest blanket your apartment has, and hide from the rest of the world. It’s only thanks to Mel, who’s worried to death, that you remember to eat every once in a while.

Safe to say, you’re a wreck. 

Three soft knocks on your bedroom door prompt you to roll over, and you’re pulling your head from the covers as the aforementioned beauty enters the room with a plated sandwich in hand. 

“I have something for that headache of yours,” she offers, setting the platter on your bedside table and sitting at the edge of the soft mattress. 

From your blanket-clad vision, you see her lips press together in thought before she finally decides on her carefully sculpted words. 

“I talked to Abby,” she starts. You groan, pulling yourself back under the blankets.

“Listen,” she scolds, and you bite your tongue. Hard. “I talked to Abby and she says Violet slept in her room that night. She was moping about you the entire time.” 

“She didn’t tell me about her and Caitlyn,” you seethe.  

“No, but she said she was going to, right?” She offers, tilting her head. “In the end, does it really change anything about how you two feel towards each other?” 

When you don’t respond, she sighs, patting your blanket and coming to a stand. 

“It’s your decision what you do, but I can tell Violet really cares about you. And I think you feel the same.”

With that, she’s stepping out of the room and gently closing your door with a click.  

Almost immediately, your head pokes out of the blanket, and your gaze travels to your now black lockscreen lighting up.

One message from Caitlyn.

caitlyn: Are you ready to apologize to me? I’ll still take you back. 

You block her number. Something you should’ve done a long time ago. 

Then, you check the three messages from Vi. 

superstar <3: i know you want me to leave you alone, and i’m trying my hardest to please let me talk to you angel whenever you’re ready to hear me out

You can only sigh. 

“I don’t know how else to get this through to both of you.”

Coach Talis’s sharp tongue scolds the winded athletes. Sweat is dripping down every inch of their skin under their heavy gear. While their teammates ended practice an hour ago, they were here running drills for the ‘stunt’ they pulled back at Mt. Sky. If it weren’t for the exhaustion capturing their bodies, they’d be pummeling each other this very second.

“I’m this close to benching both of you, and you know I don’t want to do that.” Both girls rapidly shake their heads.

“This better be the last time I hear of an incident regarding the both of you, do you understand?” The tanned man snaps, and both athletes are throwing out soft “yes coach”’s before he waves them off to the locker room. 

Throughout her entire shower, Violet’s brain is focused on two things. One, how much she loathes Sevika (fuck her), and two, how much she fucking misses you. 

Throughout her time spent drying herself off, getting redressed, and packing her backpack, she prays for a text, call, something from you. When she hears the buzz of a phone, she’s whipping her head around to face her lockscreen (with her favorite picture of you looking effortlessly beautiful and silly simultaneously). 

It’s not until the second buzz goes off that she realizes it’s not her phone that’s being blown up, but Sevika’s. 

Despite better judgement, she curiously walks over to the device, reaching down to pick it up with careless hands.

And it almost drops from her calloused fingers in shock. 

There’s three notifications from ‘C. Kiramman’.

c. kiramman: That worked better than I thought. You’re not as dumb as you look.  c. kiramman: I think our work together is done. C. Kiramman sent you $300!

You’re at war with yourself.

Your brain is clawing at you to block Violet, get yourself together, and move on with your life as if she was never a part of it.

Your heart and every inch of hope that fills you is begging for you to pick up your phone and give her a chance to prove that it was all a case of bad timing, misunderstandings, and that you truly mean something to her. Because you want her, you can finally admit it, but you’re deathly afraid of being made a fool of.

You’d skipped classes for the day, pulled yourself from your sheets, showered, and now sit on your black couch with a little sigh, sinking into the fluffy matter. The silence of the apartment is contrasting the swarm of loud thoughts inside your mind, and before it can drive you utterly insane, the doorbell rings. 

“Angel?” That sweet voice calls out.

You rise to your feet embarrassingly fast. Your brain waves a white flag and your heart dances in success. 

When you swing the door open, it takes everything in you to keep yourself from jumping into Violet’s arms. She’s worried out of her mind, but the surprise that you even opened the door is giving her a jolt of hope and encouragement. You take in her presence, musk amber scent, oversized jacket that once protected your arms, and all. 

“I’m so sorry,” spills from her lips, and you scan her expression before stepping to the side. 

“Come in.” 

You and Vi sit on opposite ends of your couch. You’re trying to show off your self control, but she’s just glad you’ll sit next to her at all. 

“I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you about my past with Caitlyn. I was scared that you’d hate me, and shit it all just caught up with me before I could grow some balls and rip the bandaid off.” 

You’ve never seen her look so worried, so vulnerable. 

You take one scoot closer. 

“But I promise, I ended things with her a long time ago and that was the last time we ever did anything.”

She’s pulling out her phone, opening the photos app, and setting her phone down face up on the cushions for you to take. You do, picking it up with weary fingers, ones that still when you see the material she’s revealing.

“Caitlyn hired Sevika to fuck with us. That time at the party, all those times she got me in shit at practice, taking your letter, even giving Caitlyn the idea of lying that I did something with her. They’ve been trying to get inbetween us for a long time.” 

Your mouth is slightly agape as you scroll through monetary payments and texts from your ex. Ones about her getting you back (fuck that), and others about Sevika getting the spotlight once Vi’s burnt out and screwing up at hockey (again, fuck that). 

“I get why you’re pissed at me, and I understand if you want me out of your life forever.” It shakes her to even utter those words. “But I…” 

She’s biting her lip, and you watch as she pulls a neatly folded piece of loose leaf paper from her pocket. With embarrassment flushing her face, she sets it on the couch for you to take.

“What’s this?” you ask softly, taking it in your hands and gently unfolding.

“Please don’t read it out loud.” 

Your heart quickens at the suspense, and your fingers come to a stop as Violet’s handwriting fills your vision. 

Dear _____, 

Oh my god.

The words fill your mind and apparently show through your eyes, because when you look at Violet once more, she’s looking more sheepish than ever.

With a deep breath, you read. 

I’ve been in love with you for so long, longer than I ever realized, and I never knew how much it warmed my heart and brightened my days until I lost you. The way your eyes light up when you laugh, the loud laugh that takes over your body when we’re alone, the quiet moments we shared, where we didn’t need words, just the way our hands fit together so perfectly. How being near you made everything feel like it was right, even when nothing else made sense. All of the little things that make you, you, have become the moments I crave most. 

I know I’ve messed up. Been too wrapped up inside my head and covered in fear to tell you the entire truth, but I miss us. I miss your laugh, your smile, the way we would talk about everything and nothing all at once. I wrapping my arm around your waist or kissing your neck cheek nose forehead and feeling like everything was right in the world when we were together. And I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you. I’m not asking for everything to go back to normal right away, because I know things take time. But I want to try again, if you’ll let me.

You’re worth every second, every inch of love that exists throughout my blood, and I will spend the rest of my days trying to show you just how much you mean to me.

-With all my love, yours truly, Violet

In the eleventh grade, you thought you loved Violet more than humanely possible.

Now, you wonder how shocked your younger self would be to hear that amount has grown exponentially. 

"I know it's bad. I'm not a genius like you bu-"

Lips smashing into hers silence any worries that the letter didn’t do its job. Your plush mouthes press against one another’s with a passion so deep, so genuine, that it speaks louder than any words you’ve spoken; louder than any love letter either of you have written. 

You faintly pull back, giggling breathily as Vi chases your lips with a look sweet enough to give you a heart attack. With touching foreheads and closed, relaxed eyes, you use the same words as when you first fell in love with her. Except this time– you say them out loud. 

“From my happily raised eyebrows to my.. gosh however I worded it. Y’know that was so corny now that I think about it,” you begin to whisper, and giggles erupt from both of your mouthes. You hum, placing another chaste kiss on her swollen lips. “I love you, Violet Vanderson. I really, really love you.” 

The warmth radiating from your soul and the heat of your intertwined bodies is all too much. It does anything but help when Violet places soft kisses on your cheek, ones that trail down to your jaw and the base of your neck as she gently pulls you into her lap. 

“Do you–” she places a kiss, “forgive me?” The suck and lick she gives to your neck sends a shudder down your spine. Wait, what’d she ask again? 

“I don’t know,” you hum teasingly, feeling her smirk against your wet skin. “I think you should work for it.” 

“Whatever you want. Tell me what you want, baby.” 

Fuck. How can words make your eyes roll into the back of your head? 

“Want you to—” 

You gasp as she slides her tongue down your neck, coming to kiss at your collarbones.

“Use your words, sweet girl,” she whispers sensually. 

“Fuck. I want you.” 

That’s all she needs, and Violet’s sliding a cold hand up your shirt, inching it up slowly over your bra and refusing to break eye contact. The action has you whimpering into submission, and you huff.

“You’re such a tease.” You complain.

“You’ll take it,” she hums, finally pulling the shirt over your head and going straight for the clasp of your bra. 

You take the time to trail a hand under her own shirt, letting your finger tips trail over her abs, and you gasp as your already hard nipples twitch from the newfound cold air when Vi tosses your bra to the side. 

“God you’re beautiful,” is the last thing she says before diving head first into your chest. The room is filled with soft kissing sounds, wet licks and pop’s from Vi’s mouth on your nubs, and your moans of pleasure when she twists at whatever nipple isn’t getting her mouth’s attention.

“Vi– babe please. Need you now.” 

She groans against your sensitive skin, releasing you from her mouth. 

“Need me now, baby?” The girl mocks your neediness with a smirk.

“Yeah, yes please,” you whimper out, and she snickers at how you’re already too dazed to focus. 

She decides she’s played with your tits enough (for now), and pulls you right back into a messy, tongue infested kiss as she flips your position. You lean against the couch as she reluctantly separates your lips, sliding kisses down the middle of your torso as her strong hands work at pulling down your pants terribly slowly. 

Once they’re off, and you think you’re free as she runs a finger along the middle of your panties, right over your clothed heat. She hums at the way you buck forward. Her just graze along the seam as you speak. 

“I’m not– mmm, feeling very forgiving right now…” you scold, eyes so gone that Violet has to stop herself from apologizing. 

“Do you want my mouth or fingers to change that?” she asks, and she can’t hold back the laugh any longer when your eyes unknowingly light up. 

“Mouth– both– Vi anything, just give me it now.” 

She laughs, finally pulling your underwear down at a reasonable pace and scolding you gently.

“We’ll work on fixing your tone another time.” 

She leaves the tiny fabric hanging off one of your delicate ankles, mumbling something about how fuckable you look sprawled out for her like this. The girl’s quick to effortlessly spread your legs, and she gulps at how slick and glistening your cunt is all for her. 

“Fuck me, baby,” she mutters in awe.

“I’m trying to,” you whine, taking her back to the present where you and your body are completely at her mercy.

Finally, your prayers are answered, and she’s licking a clean line straight up your pussy, taking a river of juices with her pleasure-inducing tongue. 

As if the taste enchants her, Vi’s dropping her head down to your needy heat. Her tongue lulls out, swirling against your clit, your hole, anywhere she can make you feel good. It’s not long before two thick fingers plunge into you, and you’re throwing your head back. 

“Oh my god, please please– yes.”

“Please? Please what, sweetheart?” she mocks once more. Your moans motivate the muscle-flexing girl to go deeper, go faster, and she has to hold you still when you arch from how sweet her digits hit your g-spot. 

The way she’s drinking your cunt sucks away your thoughts as well, and it’s not until she hands a harsh slap to your ass that you’re blinking, babbling something about needing to cum. 

“You can do it baby, yeah good girl. Fuck.” 

Sweet praises decorated with the perfect mixture of her fingers, tongue, and the lust-laced eye contact send you over the edge, and your loud moans carry throughout the entire space as you finish. 

Vi’s tools don’t stop, not until you’ve completely come down from the best high of your life, not until your shaky hand is gently placing itself over hers in silent appreciation. 

When your heavy pants are all that’s left to be heard, she kisses your cunt goodbye and says hello to your lips. A strong hand on the back of your head keeps your mouth pressed against hers, and you love it. Because you’re sure you could twist lips with this girl until you pass out from forgetting to breathe. 

“Taste yourself?” she whispers once her tongue’s slid out of your mouth. You can only nod, relishing in the way her arms wrap around your body, a silent insinuation that you’re hers to protect.

With a hum, you’re kissing both of her cheeks, then her nose and forehead in thanks as her chin rests against your chest.

“I guess that was a good enough apology.” You fake dissatisfaction, completely ignoring the way your body presses even further into hers while you smooth a hand through her hair. 

She snickers in disbelief.

“Think you need another? Just to see how sorry I am, of course.” 

You hum, finally shrugging with an inconcealable smile.

“I guess that’d work.” 

Vi makes no complaint, because why on earth would she, and she’s kissing a line right back where she started.

“Is this too over the top? The number six was fine but the hand prints? Do I look like a high schooler? Be honest—” 

Mel cuts off your babbling with a laugh. “You didn’t want to look like a high schooler?” 

You’re whining from your position in the stands, and Mel’s apologizing for her joke as she confirms you look amazing. “Vi’s already seen you, and she seemed to love it,” she coos in your ear, bumping her hip against yours as you laugh. 

And the girl’s right. Throughout the game, Vi’s taken glances at you every second she gets. She’s grinning at the pink body paint handprints that travel up your legs, winking when you blow her kisses everytime your gazes lock, chuckling at how loud you get when you cheer ‘go Vi!’, and don’t get her started on how you’re body is clad in her big jersey. 

Yeah, she’s completely whipped. 

There’s only two minutes left in the game, and the Piltover Knights are winning 2-4. But you’re not entirely focused on the screaming atmosphere or Vi’s upcoming victory, because all you can think about is how hot and aggressive your girlfriend looks in her element.

There’s a jolt of joy that zips up your body, because: yeah, that’s your girlfriend. 

The horn chugs to signal the end of the match and the crowd’s roaring with glee, especially you and Mel, who jump up and down while screaming out for your respective players. 

Vi throws you a toothy smile from the ice, one that you see again after she exits the locker room and comes to find ‘her girl’ in the loitering crowd. 

She embraces and lifts you into the air, spinning you around as if you’re a feather in her grasp. Each giggle that spills from your lips is more joyous than the last, just like every moment you spend together. 

“You were so cool out there! Never seen you look so mad and focused,” you praise your pink-haired girl as she sets you down, placing a warm kiss to the top of your head.

“That’s because you bring out the good in me. I’m usually all rude and scary and—”

“With that hair?” you tease, ruffling your hand through her fluff. “You’re not fooling anybody, pinkie.” 

Vi’s jaw drops in shock. 

“Pinkie?” she repeats with a squinted gaze. 

A beat passes, and you’re turning to run away, but it’s too late. The athlete lunges forward, wrapping her arms around your core to trap you as you fake complain in protest, but giggles are soon falling from your mouth and breaking your character. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” her playful words kiss your ear.

“Oh whatever, you love me.” you grin through the claim, turning your head to have her beautiful face in your vision. 

Vi’s smile softens into something genuine as she scans over your pretty face. Your astonishing, stunning– fuck there are so many things she could say about your face, about your heart, about your brain, about you. 

“Yeah. I really, really do.” 

Sparkled blue eyes connect with yours, and they’re sending you into a trance as you’re lured into a tender kiss. 

With every kiss, the world around you is drowned out until it’s just you and Violet. Your minds, bodies, and hearts intertwine, and with each connection of your lips, you taste everything she feels.

It’s perfect, even better than you could’ve imagined from that creative writing class, and it gets better everyday that you live the reality.

From the grasp of your passionate kiss, as colors of blue, auburn, chestnut brown and more pass by you, you smile knowing that safe in your arms lies your perfect pink. 

©silknspice

[valeisaslut]

Ellie Calvin ad buuuutttt hear me out…Reader lingerie ad, or like maybe another Calvin ad but with her pleaseibegu

FINAL POST OF THE NIGHT NONNIES PLEASE STOP I HAVE CLASS TMR AND THESE REQS ARE SO MF GOOD😭😭

BUT, IMAGINE THIS:

your victoria’s secret ad drops at 9am sharp on a tuesday and no one survives. you’re in red lace lingerie—custom made, obviously—thigh-high stockings, garter straps, heels tall enough to make god weep. there’s a velvet chaise lounge. a single red rose. lipgloss so shiny the cameraman slips trying to zoom in. you give the camera one look and say, “tell me what i deserve… or show me.”

it ends with a shot where you roll over onto your stomach and it fades into black. there’s a voiceover of you laughing. somewhere in the background, violins are playing but it’s also kinda sexy trap music.

the entire internet short circuits. victoria’s secret stocks sell out. teens are skipping school. grown adults are fighting in the comments. entire religious groups issue statements.

and ellie?? ellie completely loses her goddamn mind.

she comments from her verified, 170M followers account:

“i’m gonna bite those garter straps off with my teeth and then thank god for letting me be alive at the same time as you.”

“if you don’t wear this home i’m breaking into the warehouse and biting every single mannequin until they call the cops.”

“this ad made me crash my car, black out, and astral project directly into hell. saw satan. he said ‘i get it.’”

“that chaise lounge? i’m gonna stain it with sin. with DEVASTATION. with activities not approved by the federal government.”

“if i don’t see you in this by tonight i’m gonna walk into the ocean. with bricks in my pockets. and a girl boner.”

“gonna leave handprints on your ass so hard victoria herself comes back from the dead to rebrand the whole company.”

“you just single-handedly ended my PR training. my dignity. and my will to act normal in public.”

her finsta posts a blurry pic of the ad playing on her tour bus TV with the caption “i am not okay. she should be arrested. or married. to me. idk. i’m spiraling.”

you post a BTS pic and she comments:

“i just threw my phone across the room. it bounced. still horny.”

and the public?? completely unhinged. stan twitter changes your name to “THE Victoria’s Secret.”

a fan account makes a full edit of you and ellie using only footage from this ad and ellie’s calvin klein one with the caption “hottest couple on human HISTORY.” it gets 8M likes in an hour. the comments are completely horny and unhinged. to say the least.

your PR team tries to play it cool but rachel is foaming at the mouth backstage like, “you CANNOT comment back saying you’re gonna bite her hipbone like a peach. this is PUBLIC.”

but you do.

and ellie reposts it to stories with: “biting scheduled. 7:30pm. i'll prep the strap.”

[orphicsun]

˗ˏˋ BOTTOM BITCH ˎˊ˗

pairing: chatroom frequenter ellie williams + femdom!reader

warnings: 18+ content, chatroom depravity, brief interaction with a horny weirdo on a chatroom before reader meets ellie, voyeurism, sexting, video/phone sex, guided masturbation, mutual masturbation, use of a dildo, nipple play, use of names (ma'am + mommy + good girl + slut), both reader and ellie are at least 18 (ellie is described to be 21 but feel free to imagine her as any adult age), praise and slight degradation kink, reader is just bored at night and ellie is implied to be chronically online (as she is a chat room frequenter and, well...)

a/n: this is purely a work of fiction. i'm not encouraging anyone to go interact with people in sketchy chatrooms.

loose inspo creds from this vi artwork!

summary: you're a bit of an insomniac, not a desperate horn-dog on chatrooms. it's too late to talk to your fellow normal people, so you resort to sites you wish could be cleansed of the horniness. only, you fold the second a certain freckle-faced lesbian puts a forum post out for a new dom to talk to.

www.chitchat.gg. 

The link stares at you without much appeal. You haven’t touched Omegle in years, nor do you miss it. At least, you don’t miss the incels you’ve encountered in those horrific chatrooms. 

It’s safe to say you don’t miss the dicks, don’t miss the M42 horny, and you surely don’t miss the weird kinks the users hold shamefully behind doors, laptop screens bright with crickets’ ambience as a backdrop between the hours of 1-4am. You don’t miss the men, is probably what you’re really feeling. 

It’s too late and you have a busy day tomorrow–you promised yourself you wouldn’t need to take a shower tonight, that you’d make sure to tuck yourself in your bed with the sleep aid of scrolling through nostalgic minecraft youtuber content until you felt a content type of exhaustion, not the usual five-hours-of-sleep and so forth.

You would take a shower in the early hours of the day. You’re not a night owl; you enjoy the early, productive mornings. You don’t take desperate naps after a day shift and then fuck up your sleep schedule, but maybe all of those affirmations are deluded with your lack of self control. 

It’s late and you’ll regret it in the morning, but here you are for the first time in years, staring at your Google browser’s selection of links. Some are so obviously the darkest, the ones proudly advertising “share pics without registration!” or “connect with men and women for one-on-one fun!” 

No, you’re really just bored. It’s far too late to send the infamous “wanna call n play fortnite” text to everyone you talk to on a regular basis. You’re not desperate enough for social contact that you’d ever scrounge around discord servers, and you definitely wouldn’t join a server full of randoms. That is a disaster waiting to happen, not even a weak affirmation. 

It’s just your late-night logic telling you that clicking on this seemingly safer link would be any better, but here goes nothing. 

↵ enter

With a few forwarding clicks, you’re in. You could opt to find something with your interests, but you’d like to explore the entirety of people available to you first, and still, you stay hopeful that the days of horny chat room men dominating surface-level sites like these are in your bitterly nostalgic past. 

You are now chatting with untroubled porcelain. Say hi!

untroubled porcelain 

M

You can already tell where this is going, but you save an ounce of hope for humanity within you. You begin typing, soft keys clacking underneath your fingertips, hardly lit by your shitty laptop’s brightness. You make a few typos at first, oh well. 

cunteater reader

F. How are you? :) 

untroubled porcelain 

good. wyd? 

cunteater reader

just chilling in bed. hbu? 

untroubled porcelain

what are you wearing? 

You immediately groan and close the tab. You can’t say you’re surprised, but your hope isn’t completely dwindled. You instead open a new link within the browser: www.freechatnow.com

You hope to be able to weed out the sexual from the harmless bored, scrolling through forums and various selections of chatrooms. It’s already quite promising when the website requires age identification to actually talk to anyone through it. 

Live Cam Chat 

Adult Chat

Sex Chat

Singles Chat

Lesbian Chat

Gay Chat

Cam Chat 

Roleplay Chat

Video Chat

Intrigued by the lesbian chat option, you swiftly select it. After scrolling through what seems to be men dominating the chat, you sigh and exit out of the chat. You’re about to completely close the tab and your laptop and call it a night, but suddenly a forum stands out to you. It’s contradictory, but you click it.

21F lesbian. dm me please. 

That should make you close your laptop altogether, but something inside you feels a small pang of arousal. Maybe men are the problem, not sex chats. 

So, you send the first message; you’re a bit cautious at first. 

cunteater reader • 1:56 PM

hi. I saw your post on the forum. 

You hit send and stare at the screen. You feel a bit perverted, and a small bit of self shame bubbles up inside you. Is this really what you’ve resorted to to pass time?

You would never say you’re chronically online–you’ve got a part-time job at Taco Bell 15 minutes from your apartment, you frankly just don’t have the time to keep up with the revolving door that is the internet. So, you ask yourself: what type of person are you even reaching out to?

However, the moment your laptop audibly dings with a response, those feelings fade rather fast. 

subbydyke21 • 1:59 PM

hi<3 my pussy is so wet rn and i want 2 touch myself. tell me how? 

Your face feels hot now, and the slight tinge of arousal that was sparked when you saw the forum turns into wetness clinging to your underwear. This person can’t be anything but another desperate, horny person, and yet you find yourself suddenly in the same predicament. Maybe it’s the overtime, the lack of availability to simply download Tinder and find a normal person to have sex with. You mumble something about dignity as you type. 

cunteater reader • 2:00 AM

yeah. just start slow for me.

You cringe to yourself. You feel so out of your element with this, like a small sense of logic and shame is holding you back. 

subbydyke21 • 2:03 AM

wishing it were you. can i show you?

You panic for a moment–here you are, hair messy in nothing but a baggy t-shirt and underwear. Your mind runs through random what-ifs. What if this person is a level 10 weirdo? What if they doxx you? What if they stalk you?

You’re thinking with your cunt, though. 

cunteater reader • 2:07 AM

yeah 

(-)

Waiting for the call, even just the 10 second wait, is anxiety-filling. Your foot taps against your carpet until subbydyke21 finally answers. 

You hope your eyes don’t widen too much on camera, but you can’t stop yourself from slightly gawking. There she is, and she doesn’t at all look like a weirdo.

Her camera is a bit blurry, but her features make up the face of a woman who is actually quite attractive. Shaggy auburn hair pulled back in a messy bun, a soft nose covered in splotchy freckles as is the rest of her face, green eyes that you can barely make out the tone of in the dark of her room, and generously full lips. She is gorgeous, almost in an androgynous way. 

You take each other in for just a moment, and then she speaks. “Are you comfortable with, like, seeing me and stuff? You don’t mind?”

Her voice is rougher, raspier than you would’ve expected from the person you initially reached out to, but you also can’t help the heat it sends through your body, specifically down below. 

“Um, no. I mean, I don’t mind.” 

She nods. It’s a bit awkward, especially after what she had said to you, but neither of you comment on the previous desperation. It’ll build up once again. 

“Okay. Name’s Ellie, but I think we should call each other by names or somethin’ like that.” 

You spin a strand of your hair between your fingers, not exactly looking at the camera. “Like what?”

“Anything you want. You can call me a good girl, a whore, a slut, baby. I’m whatever you want me to be.” She clears her throat and you’d like to comment on the blush spreading all over her cheeks, but you’re too flustered yourself. “And I’ll call you something like.. mommy or ma’am.” 

“That’s fine.” You adjust in your seat, pulling your rolly chair close to your desk. 

“So, ma’am.. would you like me to touch myself?” 

“Go ahead,” you guide. You know you’re quiet, almost shy with it, but Ellie doesn’t mind. 

“Would you like to see me squeeze my tits for you, ma’am?” 

You nod. The general insides of your thighs rub together, craving friction; you’re glad Ellie can’t see anything below your torso. 

Ellie carries her laptop to her bed, giving you the entire view of her body. Clad in undergarments, she tosses the bra over her head, leaving her pert breasts on display for you. You don’t comment, but she can see the way you stare through the camera, watching her squeeze and roll her nipples between her fingers until they stiffen at the attention. You can only barely catch the way she pants as her actions intensify, and you’re completely mesmerized. 

“Call me a good girl, please.” She stares at you straight through the camera, and the awkward feeling you’ve been clinging to is tested. 

“You know you’re a good girl. Look at you, though. Do you show everyone on that chat site your tits, or am I just lucky?”

You hear the whines through the laptop audio, Ellie pulling at her nipples while squeezing her thighs together. “Only you, I promise. It’s only been you, ma’am.” 

“Good girl,” you repeat softly, your voice still a tad shaky with nerves. “I wanna see you rub your pussy now.” 

She quickly nods and lays down on the bed in front of the laptop, hastily shedding her boxers. You can’t see the amount of arousal that was pooling in the crotch of the fabric, but there is a visible shine of slick all over her pussy. And fuck, if that isn’t the prettiest pussy you’ve seen in a while. 

You don’t even see where the last piece of clothing lands nor do you care. You can’t take your eyes off of the exposed slice of heaven between her parted thighs. Her head rests against her bed as she begins to touch herself, just hesitantly, as if waiting for your guidance. 

“Atta girl, just like that.. keep your fingers on your clit and just rub it for me, baby. Slowly.” 

“Fuck, mommy,” she moans, trying her hardest not to just rub her pussy raw. It already feels overbearing for the poor girl, but she wants more. 

“You like getting yourself on camera? Makes you feel good, huh?” You coo, eyes not leaving her body. 

“It’s not enough..” she whines. “Please, I wanna use my dildo. Can I fuck myself with my dildo for you?”

Just the thought of seeing her dripping pussy stuffed full with a dildo makes your clit throb with need. You’re quick to shove your own hand down your underwear. “Yeah, baby. Be a good girl for mommy and fuck yourself.” 

You miss her body the second she stands up, but soon, she is laid back on her bed, a bright purple dildo in her hold. It’s pleasantly large, with much more girth than you expected it to have.

“Just tease yourself for a little bit, baby. Rub your clit with it for me.” 

Ellie eagerly rubs all over her swollen, reddish-pink clit with the flared tip, and your own fingers slide between your lips and into your cunt. You groan, nearly closing your eyes at the feeling. 

“Are you touching yourself, ma’am?” She asks, voice already ragged. 

“Couldn’t help myself,” you admit. That confession only turns her on more. 

“Can I please fuck myself? I need it right now. I need to cum with you.” 

All you can do is nod, but Ellie is already lining the toy up with her hole and shoving it deep inside her hole. She hardly takes a moment to adjust to the sudden stretch before she begins fucking herself with it, making sure to open her legs wide enough for your viewing pleasure. 

“Oh my god,” you moan at the sight. “You’re so fucking hot, you know that? Taking it in your pussy so easily. You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

Ellie laughs shakily. “Of course I have. I’m a whore.” 

“That you are,” you easily agree. You fuck yourself hard with two fingers as you watch her slide the dildo in and out of her hole, always leaving just the tip nestled inside before ramming it until the base is flush to her skin. 

All you can hear are the wet sounds of her wet pussy as she pounds it shamelessly and her noisy moans, and you’re sure she can hear your own wet sounds through her laptop. 

“Touch your clit, baby. I wanna see you rub your clit while you fuck yourself,” you tell her, working your own with your thumb. 

She uses her free hand to frantically rub at the beating nub, fucking herself so fast the camera nearly blurs her movements. “Fuck, feels so good. I need to cum, please. Please let me cum,” she desperately begs you. 

“Yeah, you wanna be a good slut for me and cum? Go on, let go. I wanna see your pussy cum on camera.” 

Your words easily have her hole squeezing the dildo, cum seeping out of it and visibly coating the toy. The sight, paired with her slutty moans sends you barreling towards your own orgasm. You throw your head back against your chair and moan as you practically hump your hand, trying to milk your peak for all its worth.

After a bit, you and Ellie both calm down, breathless and satisfied. Ellie throws the dildo on her bed and sits up, sheepishly looking at you. 

“Umm, that was..” 

“Yeah.”

“Wanna do it again sometime?”

“Yeah.”

taglist: @femme-tobe, @sulliefimmie, @klallx, @mytaping, @pryncess123, @therealhexstrap, @piercedome, @violetszn, @saturnhas82moons, @tombstonergirl, @sawaagyapong, @lucyaries, @caitlynthighs, @prettyinpink69, @usuck, @s7nburn, @hellokittyfeenie, @ssijht, @starberr1, @ruevu, @ruelezz, @littlefallenangel111, @prwttiestbunny, @eriiwaiii2, @starrycherie, @tphmnv, @raindroprose23, @liztreez, @hotpinkskitties, @mars4hellokitty, @jhyoos, @elliesngirl, @moonfloweredprincess, @morticeras, @l0veylace, @abbysmeatrider, @ferxanda, @vahnilla, @plasticl0v3r, @g4ys0n, @bewareofmyglock, @witzs, @mysexy-anxiety want to be tagged? click here!

[natsheretic]

PUSSY DRUNK ELLIEEEEEE

warnings: pussy drunk ellie (obviously), kinda subtop ellie, ellie almost cries at the idea of having to stop eating you out (so real), dacryphillia if you squint, overstimulation, slight womanhandling

“ellie, i can't–” you sobbed out, trying to push her head away from between your thighs. she'd been going at it for a while now, poor baby's jaw was probably hurting, and you were so overstimulated it was hurting.

your girlfriend just ignored your cries, batting your hands away. she whimpered against you, basically making out sloppily with your cunt.

ellie couldn't think about anything but how you taste. she didn't want to think about anything else, she didn't really want to think at all.

your fingers curled in her hair, but it wasn't clear if you were trying to push her away, or pull her closer. your pussy was starting to go numb, and your brain felt even mushier than it did a few moments ago, “ellie…” you whined, tossed your head back onto the pillow as a few tears slipped from your eyes.

the auburn haired girl's eyes were glassy, lapping at your heat like it was the last meal she'd ever get. she wrapped her hands around your thighs, to keep you spread open for her, shaking her head from side to side between your legs.

your thighs were starting to shake, a deep moan tore from your throat as you felt what you hoped to be your last orgasm rapidly approach. you pulled her hair harder, red crescents left on her scalp from your nails.

her tongue slid inside you, and your back lifted off the bed, ripping a sob from you as you creamed yet again, all over her tongue. ellie let out a happy hum against your pussy, and you just knew that if she had a tail, it'd be wagging like crazy right now.

your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, but ellie hadn't moved away, so it was hard to even think. you tried to scoot back on the bed, tried to pull away from her, but her long fingers were still wrapped around your plush thighs, holding you in place so you had no choice but to take it.

“no… stay,” ellie whimpered when she felt you try to pull away, her voice muffled against your dripping folds, “baby, i can't take any more of this–”

she teared up at the mere idea of having to part from your perfect pussy, using her strength to pull up onto her knees, dragging you up with her, leaving only your shoulders against the mattress. she all but laughed at your surprise, wrapping her arms around your hips so she could dive right back between your legs without you pulling away. your legs fell naturally over her shoulders, the new position allowed ellie to eat you out without you being able to do anything at all.

ellie admired your expression from where she was, suckling on your clit like it was her favorite piece of candy she'd never get tired of. your mouth fell open with a sob, tears of overstimulation pouring down your face with the force of another orgasm she expertly drew from you like it was nothing.

this has been sitting in my drafts for ages now im So sorry it took so long to come out and its literally just a drabble 😭😭

anyway ellie womanhandling me makes me feral