#and when it was over i was left just feeling GOOD | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

viaviavie · 2 days ago

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BLOT BATTLEMENT (100 FOLLOWERS MILESTONE)

in which he suffers watching you fawn over his overblotted copy who seems to be in love with you.

SUMMARY: after an experiment gone wrong, an overblotted clone of one of the victims has re-emerged. luckily for everyone, it's reasonably powerless and will eventually disappear. unluckily for him, the clone seems to reflect his true feelings towards you.

PAIRINGS: overblot gang x reader (seperately)

WARNINGS: suggestive (for jamil, vil, and idia), slight possibility of drowning (azul), projection for ob!vil

NOTES: this is in celebration of hitting 100 followers! thank you so much for following my work, and for all the comments you have left behind! i will also be rewriting malleus's section once book 7 is complete! on another note, pls invade my inbox if you immediately see that reference from malleus's section, mwah!

"That's enough. If one of you barks one more time, I will have to show you what happens to unruly puppies that won't obey." Crewel sighs and pinched his nose, another hand gripping his baton in irritation. "Unfortunately, we cannot fix this in an hour. You bad doggies need to get along until this entire issue is resolved."

The professor clicked his tongue, shoving the two out of his office. "I have already contacted someone to get you both. Surely, the Prefect has survived both of you once and will be able to do it again. So stay put, and be good. Or else."

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Seeing his Overblotted self summons waves of shame and embarrassment for Riddle. It was not his best moment at all, and that inky copy is a reflection of his worst flaws and traits. You could imagine how rushed Riddle was to collar his copy in fear that it would hurt others again, especially you who had already dealt with it once.

"Don't make me repeat myself, I demand that I see my King of Hearts, this instant!" It's very much like babysitting a spoiled child, and it makes Riddle so wracked with embarrassment. He cannot control his copy as it stomps and yells outrageous demands to see you. Riddle was really on the verge of collaring it and dragging it back to Heartsyabul when you turned the corner.

OB!Riddle's smile is so wide that it could be mistaken as sinister. "My rose!" Inky blot is smeared all over your uniform as the fake runs towards you. Just as Riddle was about to whip out his wand to stop it, you relax and return the embrace, albeit with a confused expression. Riddle manages to explain very quickly whilst trying to pry off his copy, but you suggest that it is best to let it do what it wants.

What Riddle doesn't tell you is that his copy reflects his desires as well, claiming he is uncertain why it insists on being so affectionate with you. However, it seems to be quite the blessing when OB!Riddle marches to the Heartslabyul dorm to resume its position as Housewarden. In fact, the entire dorm thanks you profusely for being able to manage that little tyrant with a bat of your eyelashes and a gentle voice.

"Trappola, have you not learned your lesson!? Rule #186, you shall not eat hamburg steak on Tuesday! OFF WITH YOUR HEAD—" Tapping lightly on its shoulder, you attempt to placate the copy with a weak smile. "Riddle— I mean, Housewarden Riddle, Ace has not been able to eat all day and the steak was the only thing left in the cafeteria. He did not have much of a choice." Suddenly, the copy's face softened before relaxing back into its seat.

"My rose, I mustn't bend the rules. If I bent them for one, I would have to bend them for all." It scowls, only sinking further into its chair as you rub gentle circles around his forearm. The entire table stares at you with looks of gratitude and relief, all in agreement that you just saved everyone a tantrum's worth of stress. You hummed at the copy, nodding softly. "I know, dear. May I remind you that rules are there to ensure everyone is happy and safe? If Ace hadn't eaten his lunch, perhaps he might have gorged on the tarts instead."

"I suppose you are right, my King of Hearts."

Riddle seethes from the other side of the table, arms crossed and face on the verge of turning red. It was hard for him to decide whether he was merely jealous, or upset at his own copy rampaging around as if he were the real one in charge. He pauses for a moment as an epiphany comes to him.

Is this what it looks like whenever the Prefect is here to calm me down from my temper?

Even though OB!Riddle cannot use his magic, Riddle is extremely watchful of his copy. It is perhaps the ugliest side of him, and the last thing he wants is an Unbirthday Party ruined and spoiled by ink. They only had to put up with it for a day, and surely, Riddle has enough patience to ride out this episode.

He does have to watch and hold himself back as his copy acts so familiar with you. A hand at your lower back, perhaps an inky kiss on the cheek, and you being referred to as 'his rose'? It should have been me!

When his copy disappears, Riddle takes the time to pull you aside and admit the truth behind the blot's behavior. His jealousy seems to have pushed him into confessing, and he makes it clear that he would rather earn your feelings properly instead of coercing you for affection with potential tantrums.

"Forgive me, Prefect. I apologize for my copy's behavior. I have to tell you the truth— it was reflecting my innermost feelings. Prefect, I harbor these affections for you and I yearn to be more than friends. You do not have to tell me anything else at the moment. If you wish for time, I understand as well. Allow me to be curt, at least just this once. I like you more than a friend should, and I would hope to hear your response soon." (So polite!)

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

What a drag. Does he really need to help monitor his own Overblotted self? If you were able to survive it once, you should be able to handle that huge lion on your own. OB!Leona appears to be nothing but a grumpy lion who answers to no one, only being forcibly dragged around by his original self.

It changes when you show up. Suddenly, the copy springs to life in your presence and is completely disobeying the original.

You are taken by surprise when OB!Leona backs you onto a wall, a clawed hand lightly brushing against your cheek. "Herbivore," He breathed as his green eyes zoned in on you. "You should be more careful when you wander these halls alone." You couldn't help but gulp as he grins, fangs glinting against the sunlight. "You never know who might just be planning to eat you."

But when Leona takes notice of his Overblot's sharp nails cut into your skin, his attitude changes as well. The original takes initiative to pull you away and stand between you both. Perhaps you don't understand the way they bare teeth at one another, taking aggressive stances as if one or the other would jump and claw at their target. It sets the tone for a very tense environment as you attempt to drag them both to Savanaclaw.

It was best to keep both lion beastmen confined in his room. Considering that OB!Leona was focused on getting your attention, it wasn't hard to manage him. It was all that his overblotted self wanted; attention and absolute adoration. Leona, on the other hand, was more so bothered by the fact you smelled too much like ink in his own room.

"Tell me, do you look at anyone else like this?" Having been kicked out of his own bed, Leona could only stare blankly from his couch as his copy kept you trapped against its chest on the mattress. It only served to annoy him further when you seemed to reciprocate the attention it was giving you. "No, only you." The copy smirks, its tail entangled around one of your legs. "Then tell me, why? What do you adore about me?"

You hummed, sighing while your hand began to play with his mane-like hair. "You're brilliant. You're the most cunning lion that I know." Leona swears you were teasing him as you take a quick glance at him, smiling slightly. "And you're the only one that can protect me." With a mocking grin, the copy cups your cheek and returns your gaze to his own. "Tell me more, herbivore."

When the copy finally reverts back to ink, Leona can't help but find some relief in having the bed (and you) all to himself again. The first thing he does is drag you to the mattress and keep you trapped against his chest. You still smell of ink and lion, and it's his job to fix that.

"Go to bed, herbivore... Ha? I don't have to give you an explanation. You're a smart cookie, haven't you figured it out yet? ... Even with all the answers my blotted copy gave you, you're still not satisfied? Hmph, that's not my problem anymore. You're mine now, is that what you wanted to hear? ... Good. Now if that is all, let's go to sleep. You reek of ink..."

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

It had become priority to get Azul's overblotted self into the biggest Octanivelle tank, which also happened to be the most isolated one. While OB!Azul seemed to be temporarily human, he seemed more irate with each second spent on the surface. It only relaxes slightly when it spots you, but his grip on your arm never relents. "Prefect, please. I need the sea..." He's just so needy and in pain. You'd help him, would you?

Azul is absolutely livid. He doesn't want you to see his copy in such a pathetic state. He most certainly tried to get you to turn the other way and march straight home, but you had to hit him with, "Even if it's your overblotted self, I would still help you." It might have been just a small comment, but he takes it as if you would move mountains for him. You weren't making it transactional, and that's practically special treatment for him.

You thought that his overblotted self would settle once in that tank. The copy immediately sheds its human form in favor of his merform, much to Azul's embarrassment. The businessman ready to drag you out and leave that blotted mess to fend for itself when a tentacle had dragged you into the water. Suddenly, you're met with teary blue eyes just before you were submerged. "You didn't plan to leave me here alone, did you?"

And goodness, Azul is just torn between fuming and panicking as his copy drags you further and further down. To make things worse, you haven't even taken a breathing potion! That was more than enough to make the octomer shake off his anxieties and plunge down into the waters after you before you drowned.

"And then what? What exactly were you planning to do once you had the Prefect here?" Azul pinched the bridge of his nose as he crossed his arms, unable to even make eye contact with you. Clutching at the little potion bottle in your hands, you do your best to ignore the way that the copy's tentacles seem to latch onto every single limb of yours. Not to mention how they twitch and slowly coil against your skin, or the way that the copy buries itself into your neck with a whine while it ignores its original.

"Why? Why won't you give me an answer?" It murmurs, arms caging you into its chest. You can see Azul's jaw clench, but you cannot exactly tell if he's embarrassed by how pathetic his overblot can be or envious of how it got a chance to be so close. "I'll give you everything. You will never want for anything. All you have to do is say that you'll be mine." The copy grits its teeth as it tightens its grip on you, tearing a surprised gasp from your throat.

"Why won't you surrender to me?"

The moment that this entire fiasco ends, you never see Azul for another two weeks. Every time you go to the Mostro Lounge to see him, he's suddenly occupied with every single disaster known to man. It isn't until Floyd gets bored of the entire thing when you get the opportunity to be tossed into the tank again. It isn't until Azul jumps into the tank after you with another breathing potion to save you, again.

"Please don't speak of that incident, Prefect. I wish you never had to be witness to such a sorry display... W-What do you mean Floyd told you about that botched blot experiment?! ... Don't play with me, Prefect. You can't just say that you'll surrender to me, you'll hurt my poor heart! ... If you dare say it again, I am afraid that the contract can never be broken. Choose your next words wisely, Prefect. Not all agreements have to be in writing."

JAMIL VIPER

Of all the Overblots here, Jamil's was the most... unhinged one, surprisingly. It was also the nastiest, based on how it seemed to disregard everyone around him. Truly, it was the worst of Jamil's envy and wrath towards everyone around him for shaping him as a servant. No matter what Jamil did to snap some sense into his copy's head, it only served to tick it off even more.

When you came to assess the situation, however, you immediately got the sense that the Overblot will not be cooperative unless it gets what it wants.

"Master Jamil," Both copy and original froze, slowly turning their heads to you, who has knelt onto the floor with a small smile. "A frown does not suit such a handsome face. Is there anything I can do for you?" Jamil remains frozen, mentally screaming in his head while his Overblotted self smirks, sauntering towards you with desire swirling in his maddened gaze. "Rise, my diamond. You certainly may do a little favour for me..."

Thanks to Kalim and the coordination of the entire Scarabia dorm, everyone has tricked OB!Jamil into thinking it was the boss of the place (at least for a day, Kamil is super understanding of the situation!). At least someone expected the copy to see through this farce, but OB!Jamil's ego was so stroked by you and everyone around that it seemed to buy into the delusion.

Unlike Leona's copy which was super uninterested with anything that didn't concern you, Jamil's blotted self was extremely irritant with everyone else. Had it not been for you, Jamil would never be able to live down the embarrassment for having such an... unpleasant copy. So far, there have been no disasters while Jamil was occupied with keeping his copy at bay.

It's just that... Jamil has been watching from the sidelines as you are perched on his copy's lap, feeding it and attending to it's every beck and call!

Gripping his knee, Jamil's eyes narrowed onto your flushed gaze as your fingers combed through his copy's hair. If he had envied everything that Kalim ever wase, he certainly envied the abomination wearing his face as it rested its head on your lap. You didn't have to look at Jamil to know that he was seething, but it wasn't as if you could abandon the blotted copy either. It had only been a few hours since it had latched onto you, and this was not the best time to agitate it.

"It seems that I have not rewarded you." The copy sings. Its expression remains content, shuddering at the sensation of your fingers pulling gently at its scalp. "Do tell me what you desire most." Your breath hitched at the copy's purr. You do not react either as the fake Jamil sits up to caress your warm cheek. Biting onto your lower lip, you shook your head. "I desire nothing but to make you happy, master." You swear that you see Jamil's expression strain itself, and you already see how tight he grips his knee.

"Is that so?" You say nothing when the copy leans in closer to you, licking its lips with intent. You should be frightened, and most certainly be running away, but you don't. "You wish to make me happy, then? Is it me that you want?"

All the signs were there. That copy's hand was pressed against your lower back, the other hand was on your cheek, and his face was so so close—

Its lips are hot to the touch, and you melt immediately into his hands as he pushes and prods with his tongue. Against the candlelight, Jamil cannot tell if your cheeks were truly flushed red. He watches as your own hands crept up onto the copy's shoulders, pressing and digging nails into its shoulders until you have the strength to push yourself away for air.

You pant as your vision returns to you, meeting the copy's cruel smirk. It is looking down on you, and yet, you do not feel animosity towards it. You only feel disappointment once you recall it was only a fake.

"Or perhaps," A gasp is torn from your throat when the fake grabs your cheeks with a firm hand, forcing your gaze to fall upon a stunned, yet flushed Jamil. The copy smiles wickedly against your cheek, humming with absolute glee.

"Is it him that you want instead?"

You nod, and Jamil's heart skips a beat.

Yeah, no. Our boy Jamil ain't recovering from this. The moment that the blot disappears, you best expect that Jamil ain't letting you leave that room without an answer.

"I wouldn't act coy right now, Prefect. You may be clever, but I have no patience for your antics. Now, are you going to be honest with me? ... Why don't you tell me what you want, instead? What? But you were so honest with that fake only a few moments ago. Where have your words gone? ... You wish for me to force the truth out of you, then? ... As you wish, Prefect. I will give you everything you want."

VIL SCHOENHEIT

This was such an inconvenience for poor Vil, and he hates his copy to the same extent that Azul does. Just like Riddle, Vil feels a sense of shame when he looks at his doppelganger because it was a personification of his insecurities and selfishness. However, at least the copy was very calm and cooperative, perhaps even melancholy until it sees you.

Seeing Vil's Overblotted self again doesn't change the fact that the fake was still so beautiful. You are actually stunned into silence when you are brought before the two. Grim swears you have stopped functioning because being in the presence of two Vil's is too much for this world.

If you weren't watching yourself, you would've passed out the moment OB!Vil cupped your cheek with its inky hand and smiled down at you. "Ah, Prefect..." You gulped as it cooed at you, much to Vil's alarm. Its surely dangerous, but danger loves you so much and you can't pull away from it.

OB!Vil never lets you out of its sight after that. Wherever you went, the blot would follow. It seems to be fixated on being in your sights, which was not exactly a problem when you brought yourself to Vil's quarters where you would wait the entire thing out. It does concern you, however, just as the copy seems to grow more and more unhinged with each second that passes.

Vil is not exactly envious of how intimate the fake acts with you. Rather, he's extremely perplexed and observant of the way it pines for your attention and praise like a lovesick puppy. However, it isn't always so sweet. It isn't so sweet when the copy comes so close to scratching at your skin as it begs for your honesty. It certainly does not appreciate being lied to.

"Tell me, Prefect. Who is the fairest one of all?" It asks for the hundredth time.

Vil cannot exactly explain how he found himself watching his copy cage you into his own bed. It has straddled your hips, pinning your hands down onto the mattress without a care for the mess it makes. Ink drips and spills over his silk sheets, his pillows, you. Your neck has been smeared with ink, and so have your clothes. His copy is smiling with ink dripping from its lips and its hair, an obscure yet beautiful mockery of the original.

The original's breath hitches as your lips part into a breathy smile. You look like absolute art, and his fake looks like an absolute mess. "You, Vil. You're the fairest one of all." Vil shut his eyes at your quiet whisper, and he wishes that you stop bending yourself over for this pathetic imitation of him.

The copy snorted in dismissal, a sinister grin taking over its features. "Ha!" Even as it grips your wrists tighter, you know better than to believe that the copy would dare hurt you. Your heart pounds, however, as it leans in closely to your face with desperation on its breath. "Why do you say such, Prefect? Why do you say such when you feast your gaze on the ugliest part of me?" A choked breath stills the copy, its grin growing more crooked and maddened. Ink splashes against your cheek, and the copy pathetically takes a long finger to smear it away, only obscuring your features further.

"Are you trying to lie to me?" It croaked, maintaining that desperately smile.

Vil thinks you'll push it away. Vil thinks that you think of his copy so hideously, and so ugly. Vil thinks that you see him as ugly.

And you dispel all those cursed thoughts as your hand reaches out to cup the copy's cheek, dirtying your own hand in turn. "You've pushed yourself so hard, Vil. You've worked hard for everything you dreamed of." The copy's crazed expression remains, and more ink pours into you. Still, you return it with a gentle smile of your own. "Even when everyone complains, you're only pushing them because you care the most. Perhaps you act like the evil queen everyone makes you out to be, but that crown is yours by right."

Vil's heart stops. He still cannot bring himself to look at the sight. It's that cynical part of him that believe in your acting skills, that this was all a ruse to satiate his fake. The knife digs into his chest further as you hummed sweetly. "Your flaws are just as beautiful to me."

Only then does Vil bring himself to look at his copy. It is still smiling, eyes so wide as blotted tears fall upon your skin. You are covered in ink, covered in the ugliness that had consumed Vil, but you accept it all. You embrace the mess, just as you embrace the ugliness of Vil's heart. "Do you truly mean it, Prefect?" Its whisper shakes with hope, very much unlike the weariness and suspicion it held towards you the entire time.

Both you and the copy slowly glance at the real Vil whose eyes had widened at your softened gaze, filled with nothing but adoration. The heart in his chest ached, and he imagines that his entire body is melting into your hands. You are his weakness, after all.

"I mean every word, Vil."

When the situation died down, Vil takes the time to walk you back to Ramshackle Dorm. However, he makes a quick stop when the moon is set at the right spot, just to cast down light on your starstruck gaze.

"To think that the ugliest part of me revealed such feelings— you deserve an appropriate confession, at the very least. The affection that my fake expressed to you was no different to what I feel for you. I realize... that you meant more to me than you should have. I am not a benevolent prince, nor am I pure as the white snow. Still, I offer my heart for you to keep in a box. I only ask you to accept me, for all my beauty and ugliness... Ha, potato. My lovely potato, you're mine..."

IDIA SHROUD

Surprisingly, Idia got along the most with his Overblotted self. It wasn't as if he was driven by pride or competition— there was just some sort of acceptance when OB!Idia was first manifested. There wouldn't have been much issues.

At least, that was what he wanted to believe before OB!Idia set his eyes on you. It sent Idia into a choking fit when he saw OB!Idia approach you with such cool indifference, acting like one of those aloof protagonists from those dark otome games that he saw on a playthrough once. It's the way that OB!Idia leaned down towards your ear, muttering something about his boredom and suggesting to retreat to his dorm.

Idia took an hour to recover before sprinting to his dorm to ensure nothing has happened. All he found was you sitting on OB!Idia's thighs (it insisted!), and Idia swore that his copy was smirking at him.

OB!Idia was nothing to be concerned about. It wasn't as if it had the power to open up the Gate of the Underworld, which so happened to be far away. Other than the fact that the copy seems so... forward with you, Idia tried his hardest to ignore it.

"You look tense, Prefect." The copy smirked as it gently backed you against the wall. It places an arm right above your head, the figure leaning down at you. Behind the mask it wore, you can almost see it smirking down on you. "Don't I scare you?"

If this was the copy's attempt to intimidate you, ha! You got it covered! Idia is practically weak to any sort of romantic notion, it should surely send his overblot into a flustered fit! Boldly, you close in the gap slightly, crossing your arms around his neck and smiled at him. "Not at all, Idia." Much to your surprise, however, the copy takes its hand to cradle the back of your head, gently nudging your face closer until you barely a hair's worth away from kissing his mask.

"Are you sure about that?"

Suddenly a flare of red catches your attention as you glance to the side to see a fuming Idia who snuck over to your side. Wrapping a possessive arm around your middle, the original Idia glared at the fake and gritted his sharp teeth. "Listen here, bucko. You ain't getting more action than me, so buzz off!" He towers over you, hair threatening to burn orange if this fake continues to toy with you. "You wanna play, huh? Only one of us can have her, and you're nothing but a MagicMart knock-off!"

Cocking its head to the side, the copy snorted. It didn't seem to relent its hold it had on you. Instead, it leaned in towards Idia with a taunting stare. "Yeah? Why don't you ask the Prefect, hm? Seems like our little guest is enjoying all the attention." Both of them glance down at you, who seemed to be busy turning red to even give a proper response.

The blotted copy takes its hand to cup your cheek gently, but it was only a ruse as it forces you to look at Idia, eyes hazy with want. The way your breath shudders makes the original itch to steal you away from the copy.

"Don't you?"

Take that ending however you will. Idia does end up confessing to you once his copy is reduced to ink once more.

"Don't give me that look, Prefect. You totally loved seeing me get all riled up. And don't you dare deny you hated the idea of getting sandwiched by two of me... Please don't make me say it. I ain't good at the 'asking out' part, but I don't wanna skip over to straight up dating. Ugh, fine. I actually liked you for a really long time, and oh Great Seven, I just hope that I'm saying the right stuff to get onto your route. You're the only route that I wanna pursue."

MALLEUS DRACONIA (Book 7 is incomplete at the time of this posting)

Had it not been for the lack of potency in the blot, OB!Malleus would have been the end of NRC. Lilia was not a stranger to Malleus's ability to change the environment based on his mood. Even when this was a mere fake that they were dealing with, no one really wants to find out the consequences of upsetting the copy.

Malleus looks down on his Overblotted self. It was a flawed part of him, but nonetheless, a part of him that he was most disappointed by. The Fae Prince should know better than to act so wickedly, but the original understands. He tries to be as sympathetic as he can be for the copy, but it was only indifferent to what the original demanded of it.

Being the concerned friend that you were, you went to see them both despite all warnings from Sebek. Admittedly, Malleus would rather you be as far away from this poor imitation as possible. He does not want to see you hurt, let alone be at the mercy of his copy. Alas, it is too late now. The blotted copy will not allow you to leave.

Malleus hid his frustrations and anger underneath that collected demeanor. The only thing keeping him from doing anything rash was the fact that you were cradled against his chest. With a protective arm holding your waist, you were seated upon the fae's lap. The copy is forced to look up at him as he sat on his makeshift throne, and the fury behind its eyes is most evident, based on the way its hands grip your knees as if it were the only piece of you left.

Alas, it is only a stalemate now. With each tug that the copy made at your lower half, Malleus would simply pull you closer to him in turn. The fae hummed, glaring down at the copy who seems indifferent to intimidation. "Prefect, you may only say the word and this fake will be no more." He grunted, and you resist the urge to whimper as the copy's lips turned upwards into a smile. "If you wish for it, Prefect, I will disappear." It cooed, and the glint in its eyes reflecting the madness of blot.

Hesitantly, you shake your head and only feel Malleus's nails brush against your waist. "I don't want you to disappear." You whispered meekly, uncertain of what to think of the fake's lovestruck gaze. "Prefect, do you know what I can give you?" Even as the fake is forced down by the original, it still has the nerve to reach out and cup your cheek. "I can grant your dreams. I can make your fantasies a reality. I can give you everything."

Malleus lets out a breath of warning, leaning down to your ear as he narrowed his eyes at the fake with restraint. "Do not listen to this mockery, Prefect." His words are tinged with a hint of desperation, as if he had something to hide, something to shield you from. No matter how much he attempts to intimidate the fake, his blotted self presses on with a cruel smile.

"Prefect, all you have to do is love me, fear me, and do as I say. I will be your servant to will, to rule, to ruin." You are frozen as Malleus loses his temper, swinging out his staff to dispel the fake once and for all. Much to his dismay, his blotted self backs away just in time as its glowing green eyes lock onto yours once more.

"All you have to do is stay with me, forever."

The campus lets out a collective sigh of relief when the OB!Malleus disappears. However, suddenly, the entire campus is holding its breath again when Malleus doesn't immediately let you leave his room.

"Prefect, I beseech for your forgiveness. I fear that the fake has reflected my most selfish desires... You have nothing to fear, for I shall never withhold you against your will. How could I do such a thing when I am already so weak to your whims? ... Perhaps you do not have to stay forever to render me your servant. I pine for you, Prefect. My heart has already been yours long before I noticed. Please, grant me your forgiveness, Prefect, lest you cast me aside and I shall let my feelings fade with time."

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littlelamy · 3 days ago

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massages with rafe

They always started the same way—innocent enough, at least on the surface. It didn’t matter how much you told him you didn’t need it or how many excuses you tried to make. Rafe didn’t care. He was relentless in his mission to make sure you were taken care of.

“Baby, you’ve been carrying stress all week,” he’d say, his voice laced with that soft, commanding tone that left no room for argument. “Just let me handle it. Let me help.”

And so, you always gave in. How could you not? Especially when his hands were so good at coaxing away every ounce of tension you didn’t even know you had.

Tonight, you were on his bed, stretched out on your stomach, the soft glow of his bedside lamp casting golden light across his sharp features. The sheets beneath you smelled like him—cedarwood and something faintly smoky—and the familiar scent was enough to ease some of the weight pressing on your chest.

Rafe straddled your legs, his hands warm and firm as they worked over your shoulders. His fingers pressed into your skin with practiced precision, finding every knot and coaxing it loose.

“You’re all wound up, princess,” he murmured, his thumbs digging into a particularly tight spot between your shoulder blades. “What’s got you so tense?”

“Life,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by the pillow.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through the quiet room. “Good thing I’m here, huh?”

You didn’t answer, too focused on the way his hands worked their magic. His touch was firm yet tender, soothing yet intoxicating. It was almost too easy to lose yourself in the rhythm of his movements, to let your mind wander as his hands moved lower, tracing the curve of your spine.

But with Rafe, it was never just a massage.

The shift happened slowly, subtly at first. His hands lingered on the small of your back, his thumbs brushing against the waistband of your shorts in a way that made your breath hitch. You felt the change in the air, the way it seemed to thicken with something unspoken, something electric.

“Rafe,” you said, your voice soft, tentative.

“Hmm?” His response was casual, almost innocent, but the way his hands moved wasn’t.

His fingertips dipped just below the waistband, tracing slow, deliberate circles against your skin. “Relax, baby. Let me take care of you.”

Your heart raced, a mix of anticipation and nervousness coursing through your veins. His touch was intoxicating, making it hard to think, hard to breathe.

“You had a rough week,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your shoulder as his hands slid lower. “You deserve to feel good. Daddy’s got you.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your belly. You couldn’t stop the soft whimper that escaped your lips, your body instinctively arching into his touch.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “Just let me do the work.”

He tugged at the waistband of your shorts, sliding them down your legs in one smooth motion. The cool air against your bare skin made you shiver, but the warmth of his hands quickly chased it away. His touch was reverent, almost worshipful, as his hands skimmed over your thighs, squeezing gently before moving higher.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe as his fingertips traced the curve of your hips. “So perfect.”

Your cheeks burned at his words, but you didn’t have time to dwell on your embarrassment. Not when his fingers were sliding between your legs, finding the damp heat already building there.

“Look at you,” he said, his tone both teasing and adoring. “So puffy, so ready for me.”

A whimper escaped your lips, your hips bucking involuntarily as his fingers pressed against you through the thin fabric of your panties. He chuckled softly, clearly pleased with your reaction.

“Rafe,” you gasped, your voice trembling as he slid the fabric aside, his fingers brushing against your bare skin.

“What is it, baby?” he asked, his voice low and dripping with affection. “What do you need?”

“I...” Your words faltered, your mind too foggy with desire to form a coherent thought.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Tell me, princess. I want to hear you say it.”

“I need you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He groaned softly, his fingers finally sliding inside you, drawing a gasp from your lips.

He moved slowly, deliberately, his fingers curling just right to hit that spot that made you see stars. His free hand slid beneath you, his palm pressing against your stomach to hold you steady as he worked you over.

“Feel that?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. “That’s me taking care of you. That’s me making you feel good.”

You couldn’t answer, too lost in the sensation of his touch, the way his fingers moved inside you with an almost unbearable precision. He took his time, savoring every reaction, every moan and whimper that spilled from your lips.

“You’re so tight,” he muttered, his voice tinged with awe. “So perfect for me.”

Your body trembled beneath him, your hands gripping the sheets as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it, baby,” he said, his tone filled with pride. “Let go for me. I’ve got you.”

When the wave of pleasure finally crashed over you, it was overwhelming, all-consuming. Your body shook, your vision blurred, and all you could do was hold onto him as he guided you through it.

He didn’t stop, didn’t pull away. His touch remained steady, grounding you as you came down from the high, his lips pressing soft kisses against your shoulders and neck.

“Better?” he asked, his voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

You nodded weakly, a small smile tugging at your lips as you turned to look at him. “Yeah. Better.”

He smiled back, his expression tender as he leaned down to kiss you.

“Good,” he said, pulling you into his arms. “You deserve to feel good, princess. Always.”

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flemingology · 2 days ago

Note

i love soft ale 🥹 potential request if it sparks your interest: very early days of dating alexia and reader assumes she’s not a cuddly type so tries to give her space. realises alexia is in fact very much a cuddly type who’s asking to be lil spoon. reader teasing her cos how tf is the stoic woman i met a couple weeks ago the same one now making happy noises because i’m scratching her back??? 🤨

little spoon ─ alexia putellas x reader

in which: alexia needs a cuddle after a long day. she just doesn't know how to approach it

warnings: none

wc: 1.5k

a/n: been a minute since i published something! i've been very busy with my christmas series, but i got this request an hour or two ago and couldn't resist lol. hope you enjoy! (not proofread, sorry for any mistakes)

Alexia was many things. Sweet, thoughtful, caring, affectionate, considerate, dating the Spaniard was more perfect than you’d ever imagine it would be. It was still early days, you two had only been exclusive for a couple weeks, but you felt good with her. It felt right. Like you belonged together.

Every night, when Alexia finished rewatching footage or studying game plans, and you finished work for your marketing job, you’d find yourself together on the couch. Talking about anything and everything, munching on a meal either her or you cooked, nursing a glass of wine as the night went on. It usually ended in watching a movie or an episode from a show you were following together, a little routine you’d grown to love.

There was one thing, though, something that you found yourself feeling a little apprehensive about. Alexia wasn’t a cuddler. You loved nothing more than the prospect of cuddling up against your brunette lover after a long day of missing her at work. Alexia, on the other hand, not so much. Always an arm’s length between the two of you on the couch, never snuggled up in bed. She wasn’t very fond of cuddling close to one another. Or so you thought.

It wasn’t until one particular Thursday night, that you realised you were very wrong. Alexia came home late. A double training session, two tactical meetings and some media bits here and there led to a very long day, only arriving home a little past 9 in the evening. She dreaded days like these, especially since she knew she had a warm body waiting for het at home.

You were sat on the couch, immersed in the final couple chapters of your book, when you heard a set of keys jiggle outside the front door of your apartment. You glanced at the clock on your phone and frowned, knowing your girlfriend would probably not be in the best mood following the long day she had. You closed your book and left it on the coffee table, making your way over to the front door.

You noticed how slagged her shoulders were, barely able to carry the weight of the day anymore. She toed off her shoes and took off her jacket in complete silence before turning towards you and engulfing you in a tight hug. “Amor,” she breathed against your shoulder. “I’m here, baby,” you reassured your girlfriend, rubbing soothing patterns across her back.

You stayed like that for a while, only pulling away after a couple of minutes as you heard Alexia’s belly growl. “There’s a plate in the microwave for you. I made your favourite pasta. I figured you could use some comfort food after the day you had.” Alexia wouldn’t admit it, but you swear you saw some tears welling up in the Spaniard’s eyes. “Gracias, amor. I love you.” You retreated back to the couch after a couple more lingering kisses, soon joined by your girlfriend with a plate of pasta perched on her lap. Again, though, a couple feet away from you. You decided not to think much of it and put on a movie you’d started watching the other day, before you got interrupted by a surprise visit from Alba.

Alexia finished her portion of pasta in record time and stood up to put her dishes away in the dishwasher, the Spanish captain forever a clean freak. It had its perks, sure, but you weren’t exactly very fond of the scolding you’d get every time you left your dishes in the sink to clean up the next day.

She sat back down next to you with a deep sigh, feeling the weight of the long day slowly ebbing away the longer she was in your presence. “How was your day, bebé?” Alexia mustered up a small smile and turned her body towards you, her elbow resting on the back of the sofa, supporting her head. “Hmm, fine. Lots of meetings, a couple new projects, nothing out of the ordinary.” Your girlfriend hummed, trying her best to seem interested, but talking about your work wasn’t really high on her list of things to do right now.

In reality, she just wanted to bury herself in your arms and let the remnants of the long day wash away in your embrace. But she didn’t know how to. You’d never really… cuddled. She assumed it just wasn’t your thing, because you had never initiated it. Not on the couch, not in bed. She didn’t want to intrude, or make you uncomfortable, so she would usually steer clear. Today, though, she needed it.

Alexia shuffled a little closer to you and rest her hand on one of your outstretched legs, softly tracing her fingers up and down your bare thigh. You softly hummed at the sensation, her touch slightly ticklish. A couple moments passed and she shifted again, now nudging your legs apart a little and positioning herself in between them, but not facing you. You tried to catch her gaze, wondering what it was that she wanted, but she avoided any eye contact.

You didn’t hear her the first time, causing her to speak up a little louder. “Amor,” Alexia breathed, in a voice that you couldn’t describe any different than whiny. “Yes, baby?” You raised your eyebrows and met Alexia’s gaze, frowning slightly as you noticed the troubled expression on her face. “What’s up, Ale? You wanna talk about your day?” The brunette shook her head rapidly, biting her lip before she spoke up. “Can I lay with you?”

The question surprised you. Of all the things that you thought Alexia would want or need after a long day, you didn’t think it would be that. Alexia had never asked for a cuddle. She asked for hugs, sure, but never to lay close to you. You quickly agreed, wanting nothing more than to hold your girlfriend close. “Of course, baby. Come here.” You shuffled a bit further up the couch and nudged your legs further apart, leaving her space to crawl into – but she didn’t.

“Ale? All good?” The Spaniard looked up at you and you tried to read her gaze. “Can I be… how you say, the spoon?” You withheld a chuckle at her accent, forever endeared with the brunette whenever she tried to speak English. “You want to be the little spoon?” You asked, wanting to make sure that’s what she meant. It earned you a nod and a small smile, a sight you swear you’d never grow old of.

“Of course. Come here.” You shifted on the couch so your back was now facing the back of the couch, leaving some space for Alexia in front of you. She wasted no time in curling up against you, burying her face in your neck as she fished your shirt in her hands.

You didn’t quite know what to do. Alexia had never been like this with you. You weren’t complaining, not at all, you’d probably never felt happier in the past couple weeks of dating the footballer than now. Alexia exhaled deeply, nuzzling her face deeper in the crook of your neck as she settled. “Comfortable?” She hummed, pressing a soft kiss against the exposed skin where her head rested.

You shuffled and got comfortable, reaching a hand behind your girlfriend’s body and softly scratching her back underneath her shirt. Alexia nuzzled impossibly closer and you held her tight, tracing your nails up and down her back as the weight of the day slowly ebbed away.

You scratched her back until you thought she’d fallen asleep, her breathing evening out a bit, but you were very wrong. Your attempt at retreating your hand from underneath her shirt was met with an unsatisfied grumble and a pinch to your side, to which you chuckled. “Needy, are we?” Alexia scoffed, but it held no malice as you felt her lips forming a grin against the skin of your neck.

You once again started scratching your nails up and down her back. “Mhm, feels good,” Alexia mumbled against your neck. You pressed a tender kiss against her crown. You soaked up the warmth from Alexia’s body pressed so close to yours, your figures moulding together like you were made for each other.

You spent the rest of your evening cuddled up on the couch, eventually moving to the bed where the Spaniard once again curled up against you, this time her head resting on your chest and her leg swung across your midsection.

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a cuddler, Alexia,” you teased, after giving her a kiss good night. “Shut up. I thought you didn’t like it. We have to make up for lost time.” You chuckled and pressed a soft kiss against her crown, closing your eyes as you soaked in the warmth from your lover. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

#woso #woso community #woso imagine #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #barcelona femini #fcb femení #fcb femeni #spain wnt

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bluecookies02 · 2 days ago

Text

Viktor x Reader

tags: nsfw, suggestive but on a spiritual lvl 🤌 hurt/comfort. robo viktor and intimacy basically.

[established relationship]

Viktor's new body doesn't feel physical pleasure. Doesn't feel friction or warmth to any extensive degree.

But you'll often find yourself placed on his lap, with him guiding your hips to grind against his own. His arms guiding yours around his shoulder, neck, back...wherever your heart desires to leave a ghost of an imprint. He traces your skin with fingertips that don't really feel any pressure whatsoever, but his soul yearns to touch you like he used to.

And he does. It makes him desperate at first...lost and heartbroken. He has to learn to calculate better, in fear of not giving you a good enough illusion that he is still as human as he was, still an attentive lover that he used to be.

The kind that would spend hours making you feel good, loved and precious. He used to push himself to exhaustion just because he needed to show you his affections thoroughly.

He still would. He still does. Every little speck of him that is left within this new vessel, he selflessly gives to you. The shudders that he lets out when you whine and moan are raw and real, the adoration in his eyes when he does something right and you gasp...it's for you only.

He can feel your emotions and hear your thoughts when the connection between you is at its peak. Once you place your forehead against his and you fall apart under his skilled hands, he can experience the ecstasy similar to the one he used to when he was mortal.

It's yours. It's borrowed. But it gets him high. The fraction of your pleasure that he can feel through your bond makes him addicted, insatiable. It can be considered selfish when he thinks about it more in depth, however it isn't.

Because he would do it all just for you...even if he couldn't feel a single thing, he knows he would always feel utter love and devotion towards everything that makes you. Your plump lips, your eager hands, your honey coated words, your mind and intelligence, your familiarity.

He'd rip himself apart and turn to nothing if it made you happy.

So he's quick to learn. He learns how to press his cold lips against yours just right...all over again. Relearns how to touch you in ways he used to know by heart. The instincts that seemed to die with his body, he has to fabricate.

There's beauty in those calculations. It comforts him. Because those seemingly "robotic" efforts are naked proof that his love for you will never falter, no matter the form he takes on.

He knows that you see his struggles, notice the smaller errors he makes in rhythm, in the gentleness or the roughness of his movements. But as always, you understand him and his body, the state of it, the "faults" as he used to call them, which you always said you'd love, no matter what they were.

This stayed constant in your relationship from before and now. Your stubbornness to love him through everything , even this, and he'd be a fool to not repay you.

So he makes love to you, under the glossy, shiny stars and then under the morning sunrise, on the wet grass or the cloudy floor of his hidden universe. You'll feel him molding his body for you and pouring his soul into you until you're crying, panting and shaking underneath him.

He'll swallow the screams from your lips as you crumble for him, and he'll engrave them so deep within himself so that nothing could rip them away.

Noone can ever love me like the fictional men in my head and I'll have to accept that eventually . Anyways I hope you enjoyed this blurb, if you did, stay tuned bc this blog is slowly turning into a Viktor shrine.

requests are set to open while this season's high fuels me, so feel free to drop by🩵

#arcane #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor league of legends #viktor machine herald #arcane season 2

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spatialwave · 3 days ago

Text

➸ ask: “our brat tamer vik and “oh no. i’m not finished with you yet.” 🤭🤭” – ➸ pairing: viktor x fem!reader ➸ word count: 911 ➸ tags: mdni! shameless smut, nsfw, pwp, semi-dubcon, rough sex, dominant viktor, brat/brat tamer, no use of y/n. ➸ notes: hehe 🤍🤍

Viktor adored the way your voice squeaked out his name when he pleased you, how your tongue snapped against the back of your teeth at the ‘t’. You were everything to him, there was no one else in the world he’d want to hear screaming his name. How it cracked in your throat when it mixed with a particularly loud gasp.

“Please,” you whined, your body hot as you lay on the couch in your apartment, legs spread wide so invitingly. His face was buried between, tongue sliding along your cunt and tasting you slowly.

This had been a common occurrence lately, neither of you were able to take your hands off of each other the second you were alone in the same room. Call it the honeymoon phase.

Your head lifted from the couch, hardly able to keep your eyes open as you watched your lover eat you out with experienced movements. His were closed, arms wrapped around your thighs as he listened to your sweet sounds that urged him to keep going.

He’d made you cum twice already, working you slowly to each release and watching you unravel with cries of pleasure and body writhing along the couch. Your fingernails had ripped into the fabric beneath you, adding to the tears that had accumulated over the past few months.

“Now,” he breathed against your cunt, the air from his lips warm as he moved to press chaste kisses to your inner thighs, “what did I say about being patient?”

A shaky breath escaped your lips, head falling back again in defeat.

When you first met Viktor, you hadn’t pegged him for the… well… dominant type. He was far too kind, always wearing that small smile on his lips as he ventured through the academy at Heimerdinger’s side. He shook your hand gently, your eyes taking his entire appearance in. Big, sparkling eyes, thinned cheeks, and two moles on his face that seemed to sweeten his features.

It wasn’t until the night you finally fucked after weeks of tension that built between you and him. You half-imagined to spend most of your night riding him, his hand sliding up your body as you took control and put on a show for him that he’d never seen.

Yet, you were greeted with deep rumbles in his throat as he fucked you from behind, standing at the edge of the bed with you on your hands and knees before him. A harsh hand in your hair, tugging it back when you misbehaved, nails digging into the flesh of your ass.

You were so fucking addicted to him, and the feeling was mutual.

“I am being patient,” you whined, back arching as two fingers slipped easily into your pussy, stretching your tight hole. A gasp settled into the back of your throat, hands settling on your tits so you could distract yourself from the way your cunt clenched around his fingers pathetically tight, needing release.

“Good girl,” Viktor purred, licking at a hickey he’d left on your inner thigh, lips trailing back to your heat so he could lick tantalizing slow circles around your swollen clit.

Your face twisted into one of pleasure as the coil in the pit of your stomach began to twist uncomfortably, signifying your third release of the evening. Here you were, a goddamn mess when Viktor had hardly touched himself yet, aside from a few needy strokes along his cock that he gave himself.

His name fell from your tongue again, eyes snapping shut tight as the fingers inside you pumped in and out, fingers curling just right. Those golden eyes watched you with desire, the way your fingers pinched at your nipples and back arched as you reached your climax.

It was intense, like always, leaving you babbling out his name as your body went limp. You were covered in sweat, hips stuttering as he coaxed out your orgasm with a few slow pumps of his fingers.

“Viktor,” you mewled after the feeling finally washed away, pouting as you pulled away from his hands until his fingers slipped out from your cunt, “please, let me make you feel good,” you slurred, properly fucked out. You attempted to sit up, but his free hand pressed against your stomach and forced you down while he clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“I let you cum because you were being such a patient girl,” he murmured from his position on the floor. Ignoring the pain in his legs to please you, “Stay down.”

Slowly, he climbed onto the couch above you, trapping you. You buried your face into his neck, whining as he settled between your legs.

“Viktor,” you breathed out his name again, the feeling of his fingers back within your folds causing you to cry out a loud whimper. You twitched, hips trying to run from the fingers that had made you see stars and had your body oversensitive, “too much.”

He smirked, ignoring your pleas as a hand wrapped around your throat.

“Oh, no, love,” Viktor whispered into your ear, teeth dragging against the shell of your ear as grabbed the base of his cock, the tip rubbing along your wet cunt, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Your pussy stretched as he fucked you, a rough rhythm that had you clawing your nails down his back and leaving behind red lines. There was no escaping him when he desired you, but you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane #viktor #viktor x you #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane smut #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #arcane fic #reader fic #wordsbyspatial #spatialanswers

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monstersflashlight · 2 days ago

Note

Werewolf story part 1

Part 2.. are there lapping up dirty juice good dog traits. And then cuddles?

Sorry not really sure how to post this properly

Wrong candy, right hole (part 2)

Werewolf x witch fem!reader || oral sex, size kink, knotting (technically), mentioned somno

You woke up feeling like a train had run you over. Your whole body was sore and there was a warm body against yours, nuzzling your neck as he whined pathetically.

“Wha- what?” You asked, trying to push him away because he was tickling you.

And then you remembered: the candy. He took the candy and fucked you senseless. As if what you felt inside of you was any indication, he kept fucking you for a long time after. Fuck, why was that so hot? He whined again, his hand squeezing your naked boob as his claw traced the shape of your nipple. You shivered and tried to push him away, just to have him press against your body again.

You moved, turning to look at him as he looked at you. When your eyes met, your heart skipped a beat, the confession he did yesterday made your brain a bit fuzzy with confusion. Did he mean that? Did he really have a crush on you? Goddess, you hoped he did because you were heads over heels for him. Especially after tasting how good his knot felt inside of you over and over.

He hugged you tightly, the movement making you feel a sudden gush of liquid coming out of you. Adding to the mess you could feel under you. Disgusting.

“There’s a pool of come under me,” you stated, kissing his neck softly as his hands traveled up and down your back. “I can still feel you inside of me, good goddess,” you groaned as another twitch of your body made you recognize the tiny spike of pain on your pussy.

“Can I make it better?” He teased, a smirk playing on his wolfy face.

“How are you gonna-?” You didn’t finish that thought before he was traveling down your body, his big body fitting between your legs seamlessly.

He didn’t leave you a second to process before you felt his long tongue inside of you, the inhuman part of him making him hit every single inch inside of you. He used that to his advantage, making you moan and groan as he devoured you, taking everything he left there with his tongue. Swallowing over and over as he sucked his cum out of you.

You cursed as your hands found his fur, pulling at the strands and making him groan as loud as you. It was intoxicating to have him against your pussy again, better than last time because there weren’t any aphrodisiacs involved. It was all him. All unfiltered werewolf energy.

He made you come exactly like that, his tongue buried deep as he took everything he left in you and swallowed it down. It was filthy in the best way possible and you couldn’t hold back the cries of his name as you surrendered to the pleasure.

And he didn’t stop there.

He made you come a second time, and by the third, you couldn’t hold yourself anymore. “Enough,” you whimpered. You came so many times in the last 24h that your pussy was asking for help.

He chuckled against your tender flesh and pulled himself up again, landing next to you and cuddling you your side as you breathed hard. You could feel his dick rubbing against your hip, but you couldn’t care enough to help. He seemed to be doing everything on his own either way.

He grunted and groaned, rubbing his dick against you as he turned more and more desperate. You felt his come against your hip when he moaned your name like a whore, making you smile and kiss his cheek adoringly.

And then you felt something more. “Did you just pop a knot?” You asked, amused.

“N-no,” he stuttered, his hips rutting against your hip again as he moaned beautifully.

You smirked down at him and reached down with your hand, pressing against his very obvious knot. He whimpered, rubbing his dick furiously against you as you giggled. You milked him slowly and tenderly, squeezing and releasing until he was a mess under your hand and the sheets were even dirtier.

“You are doing the laundry,” you whispered against his cheek when he leaned down to smell your hair in a wolfy manner.

“I’ll do whatever you want if I can knot you again,” he responded, making you laugh so hard you had to grab your middle.

“Deal,” you conceded as he hugged you tightly, cuddling to your warm body.

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cathnospam · 1 day ago

Text

Content Warning: College MHA AU, Oral (F! Receiving), Bakugo being Bakugo, Reassurance, SoftDom!Bakugo

You cried during sex and it freaked Bakugo out…

“B-bab—-y/n?!” The soft concerned look on his face in contrast on what he was just doing between your thighs was almost enough to make you break into a chuckle.

Not knowing what personal space is he cupped your chubby tear stained cheeks with his warm sweaty palm and rubbed the wetness away the best he could, “Why didn’t you use the safe word?!”

You blink, you could feel your high slowly wearing off if it wasn’t for his knee rubbing up against your clit. He didn’t even realize he was so close. “Huh?”

“Did I hurt you? Why —why didn’t—“

The tears just flowed naturally from your face, this was your first time with him and this new feeling of passion left you overwhelmed, his kissed, his curious touches, the groans and pants coming from you both as you rolled around in the messed up sheets of his bed.

His mouth was just as curious and intense as his hands, and in Bakugo fashion he gave it his all, looking up over the valley of your pretty breast to take notes of your reactions; to watch your face change when his tongue flicks in a new area, his lips practically made out with your lower ones which drew out a slurry “Katsuki~” and whine, which turned him on so much he kept doing so until he slid his thick muscle inside you, his ego inflated in ways he didn’t think could hearing you whine and moan for him, he grew confident, shaking his head back and fourth, in circles softly groaning while the slick mixture of his drool and your arousal. His forearm holding down your thighs to get a wider view of your his pretty pussy.

Who knew he was such a messy eater.

But he stopped, you started crying.

The blonde would first hurt himself before he ever hurts you, especially after giving him the chance to share such an intimate moment . He panicked.

“Katsuki, it’s okay.” You cut off his stammers, his voice was already cracking, you tend to forget how sensitive he really is under that hard exterior. You rose your back up on the headboard and pulled him down, his arms changing you in on the side of you, “I wasn’t in pain. It was the opposite.”

“How, dumbass you fucking—“

“Shut up.” You try to keep a deadpanned face, but the scent of your pussy on his breath made you subtly bite your lip, it was hot. “Well first off you were overstimulating me. Secondly, sometimes we can instinctively cry when something feels good or overwhelming, kinda like when you see people cry during weddings. They’re…happy tears.”

His face was pouted, small beads of sweats trickling down his forehead, and cheeks so warm and squishy you pinch ‘em to get a reaction out of him, “Tch….i knew that.”

“….I was really making you feel good?”

You smile, landing a slow kiss on his slightly thinner ones and tugging his fattier lower lip, you nod, “You made me feel really good. So good I cried. It’s a compliment.”

Bakugo ponded for a few seconds,finally relaxing his body to let you hold him for a moment, your heart beats laid in sync with each other, enjoying the quiet ambiance of his dorm , naked and comfortable.

“Do you still wanna keep going or wanna try again later?”

“Only…only if you want to—-I mean I do obviously, but I don’t wanna make it weird.”

“You couldn’t make it weird if you tried I wanna keep going….i was close.” You fake pouted at him, a crack of the smile came from Bakugo, he sighed in fake annoyance rising up,

“Then lay back,” He says as he pulls you by your thighs so you can lie flat on your back, “his time don’t cover your mouth when I eat you, okay? ….You sound hot.”

“We won’t hear the end of it in class tomorrow…”

“I don’t give a fuck.” His last words were muffed by his lips pressing against your sticky gooey pussy.

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fastandcarlos · 1 day ago

Text

End Of The World : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: you were fine that morning, so when lando suddenly gets a phone call that changes his things upside down, it feels as if his world has come crashing down

His heart sunk as Lando tried to get his head around what he was told on the phone. It was a blur of words to him as Lando tried to piece it altogether, tears falling freely down his cheeks. His knees buckled from underneath him as Lando dropped down into a chair, his breath shaky, heart racing as the call came to an end.

He couldn’t quite believe it, your smile the last thing he saw that morning. Yet after being hit on your way to work, Lando’s world suddenly felt as if it was crashing down, hearing that your unconscious body had been transported to the nearest hospital.

“I-I need to go,” Lando stuttered as he stood up from the meeting, rushing out of the building before anyone could reply. Panicked eyes watched Lando, but he was long gone, sprinting as fast as he could out of the building to where his car was parked. The journey was a blur as Lando blinked through his tears, hurrying into the hospital, shouting out your name.

He was stopped by a doctor holding onto his shoulders, noticing how distressed he was.

“Right this way,” the doctor told him, leading him down the corridor to where Lando could find you. “There is one thing that I must tell you first, your girlfriend is not in a good way. There’s extensive damage, most of it physical, which you need to prepare for.”

“I don’t care,” Lando whispered, “I just want to be with her, please.”

As the door to your room opened, a sharp intake of breath came from him. Lando couldn’t believe his eyes as he noticed the cuts and grazes all over your body, the machines around your bedside with cables attached to your body to keep you alive.

“Oh, love,” Lando hummed, rushing to sit down beside you, placing his hand delicately over yours. You were cold, fragile, nothing like the warmth he usually received from you. “I’m here now,” Lando told you, brushing the pad of his thumb over the back of your hand. “She’s going to be alright, isn’t she?”

“She’s stable,” the doctor informed him, standing in the doorway to your room. “The injuries are quite severe; we’re going to have to be closely monitoring your partner for a little while longer before we can make any decisions.”

“Is there going to be any lasting damage? Permanently?”

“Most of her injuries will heal with time,” the doctor tried his best to assure Lando, offering him a weak smile. “It sounds like the driver lost control of their car when they hit your partner’s, she overturned into the road,” he added, watching Lando flinch as he pictured the scene of the crash.

All he could see was your car, with you terrified inside of it. Lando hated thinking about how you felt, how scared you must have been when that impact came, all alone in your car. He could imagine you calling out for him to help you, only he was nowhere to be found.

His free hand continued to wipe under his eyes as Lando continued to study you. He’d lost count of how many marks he found, bruises, scrapes, cuts, not to mention the dry blood that was in your hairline. He wished he could do something, anything, to take the pain away.

The doctor left the room, leaving Lando all by himself with you, giving him the time that he needed. His mind was racing with his own thoughts as his eyes stayed staring down at you, struggling to believe how his life had managed to turn upside down in only a blink of an eye.

“I’m not leaving your side,” Lando whispered as he squeezed your hand, “I promise that you’re going to be alright.”

The lack of response from you sent a shiver down Lando’s spine. Usually you’d laugh, or smile, give him some sort of reaction, but instead Lando was left with nothing from you.

“I hate that you went through this all alone,” Lando added, moving one of his hands to brush over the top of your head through your hair. “I love you, however long you need to I’m going to be there for you. I know I joke about telling you to shut up all the time, but now I really could do with hearing your voice sweetheart.”

The only sound in the room was the beep of the machines, letting Lando know that you were still there. It was a steady beat, which the doctor assured him was a good sign, but the only sign that Lando would take was the one when your eyes opened up.

The hours he spent at the hospital soon became days, turning into a couple of weeks. Lando could hardly remember what the outside looked like as he spent every possible second with you, making sure that you knew that he was right there with you.

When they could, his family and friends would stay with him for a while, even some of the other drivers had stopped by too. Mostly they were there to check on Lando, knowing that he’d no doubt neglect himself as he tried to focus all his energy on you instead.

“There you are,” one of the nurses smiled as Lando walked through the hospital doors again, rushing down the corridor to get to him. “We were wondering if we were going to see you again.”

Lando looked suspiciously across at her, following behind as she walked down to where your room was. “Has something happened?”

“Don’t worry,” she smiled, saying nothing more as they got to the door to your room. “I’ll come and see how she’s getting on in a bit.”

Lando nodded as he opened up the door, placing his phone into his pocket that he held. The regular beeping greeted him, although as Lando’s eyes looked up, his heart stopped as he saw a familiar pair of eyes staring back across at him.

Lando rushed in, taking his usual seat beside you.

“You’re awake,” he whispered, leaning across and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?” Lando fretted, eyes studying you closely.

Your head faintly shook, the amount of pain you were in evident from the expression that was on your face. “I’m fine,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

A sigh came from Lando as he heard just how weak you were for the very first time. “You’ve got no idea how scared I was, I thought I was going to lose you, like the end of the world or something.”

There was a look of disbelief on Lando’s face as he held onto your hand, struggling to believe that you were there with him. It would still be a long recovery for you, but it was the start that he had been hoping for.

“You’ve got no idea how many people have stopped by to visit you,” Lando told you, “I always knew that everyone adored you, but I had no idea just how much, they’re all going to be so happy to hear you’re awake.”

Your smile slowly turned up as Lando spoke, your mind was foggy as you tried to figure how much you had missed, still so uncertain as to what had happened.

“You’re going to be alright,” Lando smiled, squeezing against your hand once again. “I’m going to be with you every single second, I promise.”

“W-what happened?” You stuttered, voice faltering as you looked to Lando to try and make sense of everything and fit the missing jigsaw pieces together.

Lando frowned, “your car was overturned, some guy lost control and went crashing into you, but you don’t need to worry about that, everything is getting sorted.”

Your head nodded as Lando pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I love you,” you whispered as his ear brushed your lips.

“I love you too, I’m so glad that you’re okay.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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fictionalmenxyn · 3 days ago

Text

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬

Pairing: frat!rafe x sorority!reader

Warnings: SMUT, language, fingering, p in v, no mentions of protection (wrap it!), breeding, self pleasure (Rafe)

꥟꥟꥟

You had come over to hang out with Rafe. You both haven’t seen each other since yesterday since college was busy for you both. Rafe needed his daily dose of you, so he spammed texted you to sleepover.

So here you were, lying in his bed. Wearing just his old football jersey and a pair of Calvin Kline underwear. You laid in his bed watching tv. Rafe was playing cod with the guys. His headset on but one ear off just in case you wanted to chat or needed anything. He sat in his gaming chair at his desk. His eyes glued to the monitor, but occasionally glanced over to you.

You watched the tv on his wall, enjoying the company and finding it funny how the boys talk in chat.

You felt drowsy, your eyelids felt heavier each blink. You moved your head into the pillow more, turning over to lay on your stomach as you went to sleep.

Rafe glanced over to you as he heard you shift around in bed. His eyes raked over you. Seeing the jersey had rode up resting on your kid back. Showing off one of his favourite things about you, your ass. He could stare at it all day if he could. His hands on it most of the time. But it was the fact that you laid in his bed. Tangled up in the covers, wearing his jersey. Looking peaceful and relaxed, that made him hard in his sweatpants.

He groaned as he looked down at his sweats, seeing the newly formed tent. He didn’t bother putting on boxers as he had only just got out of the shower and just wanted to throw something on. Besides he does it most of the time when he lounges around.

He turned his attention back to the game. Trying to calm down the hard on in his sweats. But he can’t help but look over to you every so often. He couldn’t do anything about it yet. You were asleep. And he wasn’t the type to do such things without you knowing. He knew better.

He moved his right hand over his bulge. His controller in his left hand. The guys and himself were in the lobby of the game. Some of the guys either going to the bathroom or getting snacks. He quickly muted himself.

Moving his hand into his boxers, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Stroking the long length of his as he thought about you sat on top of him on his gaming chair. Like you have many times.

He just couldn’t budge it. Not even his hand was helping anymore. He had enough. He was going to climb into bed and sleep it off. He quickly made an excuse for him to end the game with the guys. He logged off and turned his ps5 off.

He climbed into bed beside you. Pulling you close to him. Letting out a long sigh, he closed his eyes and tried to relax.

He soon fell asleep. Then to be only woken up at two in the morning. He groaned to himself when he felt his hips subconsciously grid against your side.

He was tried, so were you. But he had to get rid of it. And he’d know you’d most def would help him.

He brushed a few strands of hair out of your face. Then whispering in his deep husky tired voice “baby… need you to wake up f’me…”

You turned over, rubbing your eye “hm?”

He grinned softly “c’mon… I need some help… you looked so good in my jersey earlier… I couldn’t shift it…” he pressed his hard on against your hip to show you.

You resting your forehead against his lips “but ‘m tired, Rafey…” “I know, I know, could you just stay awake? I’ll do all the work… just relaxed and help me out, yeah?” God his voice did things to you no one could ever explain. His raspy along with the deep mess of the accent and his overall tone. Sent shivers down your spine.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your lips, then your neck. Gently turning you over and lifting your right thigh up more. He moved his hand along your side and down to your entrance.

His palm against you, already feeling your underwear to be damp. He smirked lazily “that’s my girl…” he moved his hand in slow, lazy circles.

You moaned softly, he pulled your underwear to the side. Moving his middle finger inside of you. He lazily pushed it in and out. Curling his finger every other time. You pushed your ass back into his hard on. Causing him to groan and rock his hips into you.

He slipped his ring finger into you next. Prepping you for him. Causing you to tiredly rock your hips against his hand.

He pulled his fingers away and move his hand into his sweats. He then tugged his sweats down just enough to let his cock out. He was hung. No doubt about it. All the girls in college would die to get what you got most nights. But you took it all the way each time. Nothing like the girls he had in the past. Nothing compares to you.

He ran his tip along your slit, gently pushing it inside. Causing you to moan softly. He went in, inch by inch.

He moved his hand to your jaw. Holding it and turn your head enough so he could kiss you. As he would lazily and slowly thrust in and out of you.

You liked this side of him. Most of the time you both were rough or loud. This was quiet and relaxing for a change.

He bit your bottom lip gently as he pulls away a little. He looked into your eyes with pure lust. His lips brushing against yours as he mumbled “so fucking tight f’me… best fucking pussy, all mine, baby, yeah? All mine…love it so much” you moaned softly. Looking into his eyes with tiredness and attraction. God the look you’re giving him right now drove him insane.

He kept moving his large length in you. He moved a little so he was on top of you more. Getting a better angle and also going deeper in you. Causing you to moan a little louder. He moved his left hand next to your head in the bed, stabilising himself. As his right went under the jersey and over your breast. Massaging your breast as he rest his forehead on the side of your head. He breathing heavy and ragged.

He felt you tighten around him, causing him to groan lowly “fuuuccckk…”

He picked up his pace, you were about to moan when he shoved his hand over your mouth gently. He whispered “gotta stay quiet, baby, I don’t want the guys hearing how good I make you feel… don’t wanna wake em up now, yeah?” You nodded.

As you feel your climax approaching, Rafe smirked. Knowing your body inside and out. He knew you were close. He picked up his pace more. The room filled with heavy breathing and cheek smacking.

Your jaw slackens as you tighten around him and finish. He groans “thaaatss it, come all over my cock, yeah? Mhm fuck, so hot…”

He moved his mouth to your ear “want me to come in ya? Want it, baby? I know you do, tell me, do you?” You nodded “yes, Rafey, want you too… so bad, please…” he smirked.

Feeling himself finishing in you was amazing. Knowing it was him that made you feel this good and him being the one to finish in you, was a dream to him.

He stayed there for a moment. Giving you a ‘thank you’ kiss. He mumbled against your cheek “thank you for helping, babe… did so good f’me… I’ll treat you in the morning, you don’t have class till the afternoon… I’ll eat you out all morning, hm? Wanna do it so bad, been craving you…”

You nodded eagerly, one of your favourite things he does was just that.

He gently pulled out, watching his seed go down your thigh. He grabbed some tissues on the side of his bed and wiped it. Knowing you’d probably not want to sleep with it all over you.

Tossing the tissue into the trash can. He laid back beside you. Pulling on his sweats again. And wrapping his arms around your waist. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you fall back asleep.

And best believe he kept his word for the next morning.

꥟꥟꥟

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prael · 17 hours ago

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An Oral Agreement

QWER Magenta x male reader

Masterlist word count: 3,008 Kofi(donations/commissions)

She's equal parts infuriating and fascinating.

Magenta.

No last name. Or maybe that is her last name. Either way, that's all it said on the rental agreement and her bedroom door when you first moved in: Magenta. The letters were all lowercase like she was too cool for proper grammar. You know Magenta, in the Biblical sense (and it didn’t take long).

She's always in her room streaming or recording or...doing whatever it is social media influencers do when they aren't online. But she likes candles, fried rice and catcore aesthetics. She thinks pumpkin spice season starts September 1st and she loves reality TV. Not exactly the makings of a deep and spiritual connection.

Now, living with Magenta, well, it has its ups and downs.

There are some things that never get done around here without you doing them; she rarely cooks, which wouldn't bother you so much if she at least did dishes once in a while. It doesn't help that she takes long hot showers. In a house with only one bathroom, this can really put a cramp in your morning routine.

Magenta doesn't clean the place very often either. At first, you just let it go because everybody has their own ways of doing things, right? But after a few weeks of living together, you realised that she's just...not going to do it. Like ever. So then there's nothing for it but to either live in a constant state of messiness or bite the bullet yourself.

Sometimes you feel like you're not living with a roommate so much as providing lodging for some kind of freeloading spirit that passes through periodically.

When you first moved in, you were worried about what your roommate might think of you: would they be weirded out by your habits? Would they judge your taste in decorations? Would you get along? Would you have enough space for both of you?

Those fears melted away pretty quickly once you met her. You could tell from the moment she opened the door that day (and didn't even look up from her phone) that she didn’t care.

You soon learned that Magenta is messy but friendly. She stays up all night and sleeps during the day. She's everywhere online: Instagrammer, Tiktokker (is that what they call it?), live streamer or these days she’s even on the radio and TV. She doing something for one of those things right now, with her bedroom door closed and music playing faintly behind it.

You're standing in the kitchen, staring down her latest infringement. Now, these empty take-out boxes were here this morning when you left. They were also here last night, and yesterday afternoon, and...you get where this is going.

"Hey, you awake in there?!" you shout towards her bedroom but get no response.

With a sigh, you walk over to her door and knock. Twice. Then again, louder when you still get no response. Finally, you resort to pounding on it repeatedly until it suddenly swings open to reveal your roommate shouting, "What!?" You step back, slightly taken aback by how loudly she said that single word. Her eyes soften instantly, though when they land on you.

She looks good. Not even just in a 'good for someone who hasn't slept yet today' kind of way. Just straight-up hot. Magenta wears a faded pink crop top emblazoned with an anime character and little cut-off cotton shorts covered in cookie prints. The low waistband of the shorts hangs off her hips, exposing the start of a light purple thong that cuts diagonally across her hip bones.

"I think our apartment might get condemned if you don't clean sometime soon."

Your roommate leans against the door frame. She pushes some dark brown hair behind her ear as she says, "Can't you do it for me? Just this once?"

"Just this once?" you repeat, crossing your arms. Your lips curl into a smile as you ask back to her, "Can't you do it just this once?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm always reminding you to clean, and you never do it. So guess who does it? It's not the magical cleaning fairy—it's me."

Her eyes roll skyward so forcefully you imagine you can hear them squeaking in their sockets.

"Why are you giving me such a hard time about this?" she says. "This seems really petty."

"It's not petty," you protest. "I have stuff to do and I shouldn't have to keep picking up after my adult roommate." You say the word 'adult' laden with implications. She gets your meaning immediately. Her lips twist.

"oh, I get it," she says with a smirk. "I guess it's been a while since I gave you a little thank you. Well, I need to get this video finished, so could you maybe clean it up and come back here after?"

So there's the perks. Two of them actually, as she pulls up her pink crop top and flashes you what's beneath. A pair of purple lace bra cups strain to contain your roommate's ample endowment. Pale skin pours out from beneath them, flesh squeezing together into a deep cleavage that entices you closer even as you shake your head.

"You can't keep pulling tricks like this, Magenta," you say, trying desperately to hold onto your train of thought while also enjoying the view. It helps that you know those breasts intimately. Hell, you've worshipped those breasts. They've spilt around your hands, smothered your face and laid upon your thighs. You know what the soft warmth inside each cup feels like. And, God, they feel really fucking good.

"I really appreciate your help and everything," she says, her bottom lip suddenly pushing out into a cute pout that goes well beyond suggestive. "And I'd like to show you just how much I appreciate it..."

Your resolve lasts right up until Magenta runs a finger down one of her tits to tease along the edge of the lacy purple material. That's when you give up. There's no point in fighting anymore—she has won this battle (just like all others).

"Just go finish your work already," you finally say, letting out a sigh.

Magenta smiles and giggles, lowering her shirt. "Thanks. Love ya!"

With a wink, she slips back into her room. You stand alone for several seconds before shaking your head. Back to cleaning, then.

It's not exactly easy to focus on sorting the recycling into the correct bins when your roommate has just reminded you how nice her tits are. They're on your mind a lot, to be honest. More than they should be probably. Sometimes they're on your cock, though not as often as they should be. Probably.

You're counting your blessings that none of the neighbours are doing late-night recycling because then you'd have to explain why your face is red and your pants are bulging.

That doesn't stop the occasional glance towards your neighbour's house, where Mrs Kim likes to smoke on her front porch some nights. You think she smokes more than she should, but that's really none of your business. Her watching you from across the street, however, is very much your business, so you peek over your shoulder once in a while to check if she's spying. Again. Or still. Whatever.

One last box. The light outside is fading rapidly, but you can just barely make out that it comes from...the Greek place you love?

Oh. Oh no. Did she eat gyros and not bring you any? Damn, that girl knows how to be cruel!

When the recycling is finally squared away you dust off your hands. It's a symbolic gesture since all you've done is shove cardboard and glass into the right bins, but it makes you feel accomplished nonetheless.

Back in the apartment and lock the door behind you.

"There you are. Where have you been?"

"The bins, have you ever seen them before?" You mock while still fiddling with the lock chain.

"That was quick," comes her response. Your eyes follow the sound of her voice. Magenta is lying upside-down on the couch. She swings her feet lazily in the air while looking at something on her phone. Her dark hair cascades nearly to the floor. Those short shorts mean you can see most of her long legs. Then there's the curve of her hip, the crease of her thigh... "Get over here."

It's a rare occasion that Magenta voluntarily puts her phone down, yet she does just that as you walk over. The closer you get, the more enticing her position becomes: laying across the couch, head tipped backwards off the cushions to watch you approach her.

"So," she says. Her fingertips brush over the exposed skin of her belly. The fingers trace lines up and across her abdomen, moving between the edge of her shorts and her top. The motion catches your eye—and she knows it. "I owe you, don't I?" Her eyelids flutter innocently. Or rather, far less than innocently.

"For today? Yeah. Definitely." You clear your throat and try again, "For quite a few days, actually."

"Quite a few," she echoes in agreement. Her hand continues to crawl upward until it reaches the peak of her breasts rising beneath her faded pink crop top. The movement presses the supple skin together in a way that has you standing right in front of her before you even realize you've walked over.

She pushes them hard together before letting them settle back to normal. Gravity spreads them apart, flesh pouring across her chest from the tightly gathered fabric keeping them barely contained. She reaches out over her head, to you, and grabs you by the belt buckle. Pulls you forward until you are stood over her. Even though she's upside down, she makes such effortless work of unbuckling the leather strap that you barely notice. One second it's on; the next it's flapping loose.

It takes only two sharp tugs to force your pants and boxers down past your knees. Magenta doesn't waste any time reaching out to touch your cock, gently running her hands over it until she can wrap her entire hand around the warm shaft and pull you until you fall to your knees. Her head hangs right in front your your length, and you see the teasing sparkle in her eye even upside down.

Her hot breath hits the skin of your bare cock. Lips press a series of soft, wet kisses down from your tip towards your balls. Then back up again, trailing even more tiny pecks that leave your skin tingling. You let your cock nudge against her cheek, feeling it slide along the smooth skin.

With both hands wrapped around your cock, Magenta holds your tip right in front of her mouth. Her tongue sticks out from between her lips, slowly, methodically lapping circles around the crown of your cock.

"Oh, God," you mutter, and you need to hold onto something, anything. First, it's the couch, then it's her tits.

Your hand lands heavily atop the nearest swell of flesh and squeezes tight, pushing it further out of her crop top. She hums approvingly at the groping and wraps her lips around your cockhead. Suckles sweetly. Slurps noisily until spit pools at the corner of her stretched lips.

She lets gravity help guide your cock into her waiting mouth. The further you slip inside, the more she relaxes her jaw to accept you. But then she reaches up and pulls on your hips. You glide up against her grateful tongue. Until her nose meets your stomach. She gags. It's so fucking lewd.

The whole thing makes you squeeze her chest harder. So big in your palm and yet somehow always bigger than you remember. You forget sometimes just how incredible these tits are. When they bounce in a video she's recorded, you remember—but never quite how heavy they are when you hold them; the way they give to your grasp in exactly the right amount; or the way her nipple puckers just slightly as it stiffens beneath your kneading grip.

"You're so sexy like this," you say.

The compliment elicits an appreciative groan from Magenta. Her head moves with your hips now, bobbing to meet each thrust, spit dripping down her cheeks. The messiness of the sloppy blowjob matches her other personality traits frighteningly well.

With her head pinned and her arms on you, you're free to pull up her shirt and expose her. The dirty minx has taken off her bra, so the expanse of her milky skin greets you. You cup them in each palm, feeling the heft of them, squeezing them greedily. They push back, moulding into the shape of your desire, and she moans, a low guttural note vibrating right through your length.

Her body writhes beneath your attention. Her thighs spread outwards, feet rolling at the ankle in time with each gently guided thrust into her throat. Fingers squeeze you, scratching lightly at the skin above your ass to encourage you deeper inside her hungry maw. Deeper into her throat until she chokes—

You let up, panting, admiring the sight of her stretched out for your viewing pleasure. Her eyes flutter open, looking up at you from her upside-down position. The intensity in them draws you in again.

"Oh shit," you groan as you drive into her, plunging your cock balls deep until her purple-painted nails dig into the small of your back. You pump faster, lost in the warm embrace of her greedy sucking.

Magenta squirms beneath you, whining and groaning and bucking, begging you for more. Her cunt must be throbbing with anticipation. Poor thing wants your cum. You can tell.

You want her tits.

She gasps when you fully withdraw from her mouth. Her face is a fucking mess of saliva and smudged makeup. Before she can question you, you reposition yourself in front of her, straddling her beautiful face as you lower your rigid length between her breasts.

She's quick to pick up what you're putting down. With both hands pressing the creamy flesh of her boobs inward, she creates a tunnel for you to slide your dick into.

It feels as good as it looks. Soft pressure envelops your slick length, wrapping around the sensitive skin and creating a delightful sleeve for you to hump into. You can't get enough.

As soon as you hit a good pace, fucking your roommate's chest hard and fast, she starts giggling.

"What?" you ask.

"It tickles." Her laugh is breathy but not as loud as it usually is. "Keep going."

So you do. Thrust after thrust you plunge deeper, drawing more and more of yourself into the valley between her perfect tits. The more you use her, the further she parts her legs that run up the back of the sofa. Soft thighs splayed for nothing but display. Then, just as you start to admire them, she clenches them together. Your eyes trace down the pale skin until they arrive at her crotch where the bottoms of her cookie-patterned shorts have ridden up against her wet slit. She's gyrating her hips in all sorts of directions and rubbing herself against the material in some attempt to satiate her growing needs.

The soft flesh of her midriff jiggles between the thrusting into her tits and the twisting of her hips below. You can't stop staring. Fuck. How does this girl have every single curve?

At first, you try holding back—you want this to last longer. But after a few seconds, you realize you can't fight this feeling. Not when you've got such a good view. And certainly not with her nipples so hard under the press of your thumbs. She arches up when you pinch them, and you know you're done for.

And then, as if she can feel it by the way you're thrusting, she begins to coo and beg under you. She knows she's getting you close, and she wants it. Bad.

"Cum on me," she coaxes sweetly, the words barely audible over the slapping sounds. "I've been so bad, baby. You deserve to paint my body."

That's all it takes. That final little plea. Your eyes roll back, your hips snap forward and your cock explodes. Thick ropes over her body, the first reaching her thighs before you adjust your aim and finish across the plane of her belly. Soft curves take your load while she encourages you through soft, little pleasured mewls. You may have got some on her shorts, but you paint her stomach white before pulling up and jerking the final drops onto her chest.

"Mmmm, messy boy," Magenta laughs breathlessly as your cum drips down her curves. She lays there beneath you, her smile wide and wickedly innocent, one hand slowly running circles over the sticky mess on her tummy, smearing it across her skin.

After a few seconds of panting and trying to gather yourself, you climb off of her and sit back against the couch. She turns so her head rests in your lap, facing your spent and dripping length. Magenta teases you still by using her own fingertip to collect your seed and place it across her lips, then licking them clean while making sure you're watching. And fuck are you ever.

"So, about my room," she purrs, eyes twinkling mischievously up at you.

"What about it?"

"Well... It needs cleaning, and I was thinking—"

"No," you feign protest, knowing you've already agreed. "Just clean it yourself." Her negotiation will come next. You can see it on her lips. "I'm not doing it."

Magenta leans up and whispers, "But you might change your mind if you find out what's waiting for you beneath my shorts."

That damn purple thong, still visible at her waistband, calls you toward her like a beacon. "What's beneath your shorts?"

Her laugh is playful. A little shrug as her fingers toy at the hem of the garment in question. "Agree to clean my room and you’ll find out."

#Magenta smut #qwer smut #male reader #kpop smut #m reader #Magenta x reader #smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #streamer smut

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jane-asmo · 20 hours ago

Text

Why I think Caitlyn didn’t ask Vi for forgiveness

(Thank 'anons' for your messages. I’ll try to respond to you through this text: )

The importance of Caitlyn’s “I know”

A key moment in Caitlyn’s character narrative is her “I know”—both its content and delivery.

The content: When Caitlyn says, “I know,” it doesn’t just mean “You’re right.” It means, “I’ve taken the time to think about this.” And thinking is what Caitlyn does best. Her “I know” conveys that she has already had this conversation with herself, over and over in her head. She’s thought about it constantly, she’s already told herself these things, and she’s already blamed herself for them.

The delivery: She screams it with violence, and we can see this represented by the boat falling apart. It’s not just that she has thought about it; it’s tormenting her. Her “I know” is incredibly powerful because it’s filled with suffering.

To me, this is as valid as an apology because asking for forgiveness is outward-facing—focused on the other person. "Asking for forgiveness" says, “Whether I’ve forgiven myself or not, whether I feel guilty or not, it’s on you to decide to forgive me.”

But here, Caitlyn’s “I know” is inward-facing. It means, “I’m not asking you to forgive me because I can’t even forgive myself.”

She knows everything you’re saying, and it torments her.

This is followed by:

"I didn’t even have time to think before they hauled her off."

This line is so telling. Everything about Caitlyn is tied to thinking and reflection.

Being a sniper means aiming and shooting. Aiming is the equivalent of thinking, and shooting is the equivalent of speaking. Everything Caitlyn does is deliberate and thought through.

This is why some people dislike her: as I’ve said before, unlike other characters, Caitlyn’s actions can’t be forgiven easily because she doesn’t do anything by accident.

Then we get to:

"We can’t erase our mistakes. None of us."

Caitlyn speak in “we.”

In the prison scene with Jinx:

"No amount of good deeds can undo our crimes."

This scene mirrors the rage she felt when she threw the boat. In this moment, she’s speaking to Jinx, but also to herself.

Caitlyn and Jinx are paralleled so many times throughout the show. Caitlyn quickly realized that, in some ways, she had become like Jinx. And so, in order to forgive Jinx, she would first have to forgive herself.

At this point in the episode, the person Caitlyn hates the most is herself.

But she no longer has the "energy" to hate, neither Jinx nor herself.

Energy comes from fuel. What she perceives as a lack of strength to keep fighting is simply the fact that the fuel that powered her hatred has disappeared. And when you stop feeding a fire, it eventually dies out. She has no energy left; she has no fuel to sustain her hatred.

It's a particular way of saying, I don’t hate you anymore, and I don’t want to hate myself anymore either, because in the end, that hatred corrupts us/everything .

In her own unique way, Jinx also says, I didn’t know your mother was there, even if it wouldn’t have changed anything. And this too is a strange way of taking a step toward the other.

We have two brilliant and intelligent women who express their emotions in unconventional ways. ----------

There’s also a whole analysis that could be done about her concept of justice and rules, "but I don’t have the energy" to dive into that here. Still, it would only lead back to the fact that Caitlyn doesn’t see herself as the right person to free Jinx (and therefore to forgive her) because she believes she herself is beyond forgiveness.

#arcane #arcane spoilers #caitvi #caitlyn kiramman #arcane season 2 #arcane s2 spoilers #arcane s2 #caitlyn x vi #caitlyn arcane #vi x caitlyn #caitlyn x jinx #jinx x caitlyn #caitlyn league of legends #cait x vi #vicait #violyn

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keferon · 3 days ago

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So the Mech AU is something and it's captured me too.

Set sometime after Prowl discovers Jazz is a pilot but before they go to Earth

———————————————————————

"Do they all look the same?"

Sat in a makeshift chair made from a tarp thrown over a spare tire, Jazz was in the middle of refueling from a small plastic baggie when Prowl broadly gestured to the inanimate body of his mech.

"The mechs? Naw, at least not the ones that last. I've had mine long enough that it's gotten all sorts of unique design changes and upgrades. There's no other mech that looks or moves just like mine."

The reassurance that Jazz's mech form was an individual creation was pleasing for some reason. Perhaps Prowl didn't like the idea of a dozen identical blank visors, the body of his friend replicated and filled with someone else.

"There's like. three or four classes of mech I think?" Jazz continued unaware of Prowl's secret anxiety.

"There's Rescue Class, those are the smallest, and they actually aren't built for fighting but for digging through rubble and cleaning up chunks of alien. Plus, sometimes those tentacle freaks have parasites that drop off when they die so the R-class kill 'em before they can become an invasive species."

"I thought you said they weren't designed for combat?"

Jazz finishes their fuel and shrugs.

"Its a war. Nobody gets out of fighting completely. Before I left I heard they were sticking a medic into- into fuckin' Vortex."

There were, many questions Prowl had concerning that last sentence. How desperate were the humans to be making their caregivers into soldiers? Why was this Vortex so infamous?

Why did Jazz sound angry at first, but by the time he got to saying "Vortex" the name came out as a rush of breath rather than a proper word?

What stopped him from pressing further on the topic was how Jazz seemed to shrink. And sink.

And stare at nothing at all.

It was so nauseatingly not Jazz that Prowl nudged the tire a bit and guided the conversation back to familiar territory.

"So what class are you?" Prowl said, while crossing his arms on the table and resting his chin on them. It was, very off model posture for the Praxian, but without the ability to pick up EM fields, exaggerated body language seemed to be the best way to get through to his human.

On a hunch, Prowl lightly waved his door-wings as well. Jazz smiled at them, and at him and Prowl preened with a modest smile back.

"I happen, to-just-so-be-the-Top-of-my-class-a-thank-you-veeery-much!" Jazz said popping each syllable like a song, resting his chin on his knuckles to match Prowls gaze.

"In terms of mech?" He nodded in its direction.

"I'm Striker Class baby, we're the fastest, the most agile and in my personal opinion the the most effective fighters in the whole program."

"And you do not personally feel as though you are an outlier bringing up the average?"

Mouth agape in mock shock, Jazz placed a hand over his spark- Flesh? Flesh-spark? Prowl deleted the line of thought and focused on the performance.

“I assure you Prowler, there are plenty of other Striker class pilots out there that do good for our name. I mean, there’s Blur for one thing. The guys basically the poster child of the whole program. Ridiculously fast mech. There’s also Hot Rod. His mech had the funny little quirk of CONSTANTLY CATCHING ON FIRE, buuut he turned it from a bug into a feature and now that’s just his thing.”

“Just his thing?!”

“Yup.”

“Being on fire?”

Jazz sat up straighter and pointed a finger at Prowl, “Look. I don’t know the full story and I shouldn’t be the one to tell it either, but trust me when I tell you this guy earned it.”

Leaning back, Prowl processed the new layers of insanity humans would apparently subject themselves to before filing it under “Bizarre conversations with Jazz” in his processor and carrying on.

“So what’s your special quality?”

“Me? I’m freakishly good at syncing up with my mech. Like, Blur is faster, but I’m smoother. Like, like that really is me. It just, I dunno, feels right. Fits me.”

Jazz looked over to his mech for a long time. Frowning at the fuel packet in his hands and solemnly crushing it into a ball.

“In terms of mech?” Jazz looked looked over to Prowl, smile returning with ease.

“I think I might be the only one that’s built for the stars.”

Their conversation continued into the evening like a leisurely dance. Discussing Pool Time, the war, cultural differences , the quintessons, their homes, what remained of them, and all the people they know and once knew.

Prowl never brought up Vortex again, though perhaps he should have.

__________________________________________

"What," Prowl choked out, his voice more static than sound. "Is that?"

The sky was green. The quintessions were in chunks. A mech, matte black with a blank visor, caaaarved into the body of the last living invader. A blade that massive was too big to keep a clean cutting edge, so the mech made up for the lack of delicacy with brute force.

It. It wasn't killing the damn thing. It was vivisecting the aliens spinal column from its body, each rib snapping off with a supersonic POP that shook Ratchets hangar and barely carried over the fucking awful sound of the thing screaming in terror.

Prowl would have never thought a Quintession could be a Victim before that moment.

Spine and brain case finally extracted, the mech lifted its prize to its opening vi- mouth.

That is its mouth. It's head was the size of his entire chassis. Inside, a stranger. Over bright eyes, straining and shaking against restraints within to get a better look at what was being held up to him. The mech moved without any input, tilting its helm back and cracking the skull to fill its open maw with cerebral fluid.

A funnel cloud touched down in the distance.

"That.? Jazz said, leaning against Prowls good side. “Is Vortex.”

TH A T. IS VORTEX

Man……I think Cybertronians would consider themselves big and scary compared to primitive earth life. And then meet Vortex. And then see Vortex in their nightmares for the next five million business years

#this definitely needs trigger warnings ahahahaha #mm #tw gore #mecha pilot jazz au #tf mecha universe

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beautifullilacsky · 2 days ago

Text

"Will you overthinking this?" He asked as we were walking hand in hand in the park.

Me, fully aware I have already started overthinking the moment he mentioned that her friend broke off her relationship: "....... juuup"

"What are you overthinking about? Lets discuss it together, let me help"... I explained how, maybe, now that she is single, she might try to get over a guy by getting under another one. Or maybe, since you guys tall about problems and are pretty close, she turns to flirting now that she is single. "Okay and? Why would I get into that while I have my girlfriend at home? I would say no thank you. Also, I don't think she is the person to do that. I have met her before she was in a relationship, and she also wasn't like this then". Okay, well, .. maybe she will have heard bad things about me and will not like me or she will think I am not good enough for you, or too much, and tell you to break up with me. I mean, I'm in a relationship with you, not with her, but ja, well... He put his arms around me and stopped us from walking on, hugging me from behind. "Sometimes I forget how insecure you can be. Do you really think I'll just break up with you because someone tells me to? And besides, I think you should meet her. She is really kind and everytime I mentioned something, she was always more on the reassuring side." Well, I also thought your other friend was kind.. "..... true. ..... I don't have an argument against that."

"So... if she were to still be in a relationship, would it be okay? .. meh, I feel like that's a bad excuse. "Yeah she is in a relationship anyway" , as if that changes anything. Doesn't that sound like a bad thing to you?" Hmm. Well. Honestly, I felt better when she was in a relationship, assuming it wasn't an u know who typa relationship. It's always a 2 people's decision. And that way, I am at least sure that one side is on the no side (as I said it out loud, I realized how fuckedup it sounded.) "Shouldn't you trust me to already be on the no side?" .... I should, yes. I just don't know what to make of the fact that you told me that you can't promise me that it won't happen again. "That was a year ago" .... "back then I wasn't super sure, and before that I was def not sure. Also, I did not want to force you to trust me (def different exact words from his, buthey, u get the point.). It's been a year." Would you get back to it and say something different now then? "Yes. I am sure that it will never happen again".

And there it was. I know he is a firm believer in actions over words, but sometimes I need words to be sure. He told me that he tells me the truth, and I know he does. Thus, if he tells me, I believe him. So. Maybe this is what I needed to truly get to trusting him again. His word. It's not a signed contract, I know. I can't sue him if his words turn out to be false. Though, I needed this. I needed his faith in himself to make sure it won't happen again. Fuck damn hey. I needed him to believe in himself. If he doesn't believe he will stop it the next time, who am I to believe so? Well well well. Before he left, if our roommate wasn't sitting right next to me, I would've said after he asked me if I'm still okay (for like, the 3th time): "if you say it won't happen again, I trust you." Fuck. And I'd mean it. I feel like I have entered a new reality. One in which it is safe for me to have faith in him. In which, sure, maybe a girl will flirt with him, but I can laugh about it. I can be proud to be with that hotstuff that she can't help but talk to. I can make jokes about it and raise my eyebrows up and down. I can do it all, and enjoy the situation, knowing. Truly knowing. That it doesn't matter at all if the other party is on the "yes-boat". He isn't, and he won't get onto it either. Even if a chance presents itself, he won't even see it as one. He has the set in stone plan to come back home to me. Even if she would get him drunk and touch him all over, ... he will say no. Even if it scares me more with booze, he is still himself. He doesn't get into a crazy trans and turns into a different person with different values. He is still the same person who held my hand as we walked in the autumn colored park, and said that it would never happen again.

It feels like something in me has been freed. As if trust was a fluffy creature within me, which was tied down. His words freed it. It still can't believe that the tiny trust guy is free. That it's safe to stand up now and run and smile and truly trust. It's astonished, grasping for those words that set it free. Wanting to hold them and craving for them to invade its veins with its lightning energy and brightness. May it no longer feel the need to stay on the ground; the ties have been undone. Fuck.

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backinmyphase · 3 days ago

Text

I've got to know...

·········⋆༺𓆩❀𓆪༻⋆·········

You wished you could forget yesterday.

The taste of the overpriced drinks. The loud music overplaying the girl that was crying in the bathroom. The way people were grinding on each other under the red lightning.

The way your bestfriend!Satoru sat in the vip area of that expensive club.

You shouldn't have went up to him. Shouldn't have had that many drinks. But he had dragged you here, so why didn't he talk to you?

There were many girls sitting next to him, the couch already full. They didn't hear or see you as you tried to get near. There was a strong smell of alcohol, since glasses full of it were on the table, a bottle right next to them. The girls were laughing, giggling as one of them touched his arm.

Why did she do that? Why did he look so pleased?

You felt like throwing up. Felt like the sticky floor under you would disappear as you saw her smile. Felt like such an idiot when he smiled that smile back at her. You wanted to go home.

But you couldn't since he was your ride home. And you didn't want to ruin his good time. So you made your way to the bar again. Bumping into other people, apologizing on the way.

Time went by as you sat there at the bar. You felt more and more looks on you as you took more and more shots. You were starting to sway in your seat, having no longer a feeling of balance.

That was until you felt a hand on your shoulder. For a split second you thought, wished, it was Satoru. But it wasn't.

"Are you okay?"

It was a guy you didn't know. Well, you probably should, but in that moment you couldn't think of any name.

"I don't know." screw the alcohol, which made your tongue lose.

He frowned as he saw in what state you were.

"You don't look good, you should head home. With who are you here?"

"Satoru Gojo." your voice was nothing more than a whisper and in hindsight it was a wonder he understood you over all that music.

His eyes widened. He had that look of pity that made you sick. Then he shook his head. "I can give you a ride home? If you want to?"

"Where is Satoru?" you tried to look behind the guy, but you didn't see anything other than people just slightly swaying from left to right.

The guy gulped. "He is busy."

You tried taking another look, that's when you saw it. The area Satoru was sitting in, now empty. The glasses of alcohol missing. His jacket no longer hanging on the wardrobe near the door. That's when you understood.

Satoru had already left. Probably with one of these girls.

"Oh." the lights around you began to blurr. The music wasn't loud anymore. It was deafening. The alcohol in your system now unbearable.

"Let's get you home."

You wished you could just forget it all. But even though you were wasted when you got home and threw up multiple times, you didn't. Didn't, even when you heard Satoru call at 3 in the morning.

You were such an idiot. You had really hoped, that maybe he took you with him because there was more to you than just a friendship.

How naive.

You didn't talk with him today. Ignored his obvious stare of confusion. His stare that turned to guilt. And didn't turn when he called your name at lunch.

You wished you could forget yesterday, so you wouldn't cry as you read his message.

Are we still friends?

·········⋆༺𓆩❀𓆪༻⋆·········

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #jjk gojo #gojo angst #satoru gojo

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xetlynn · 3 days ago

Text

Arcane Imagines- Violet

Sweet and Sour

Requested by: @m0ranna "vi and a s/o who looks, seems and acts very soft but is actually a beast when fighting."

[arcane] [main page]

Summary: you and vi have been apart for some time, and when she sees you all the feelings come back.

“Hey, someone’s here for you.” Your only employee, Mexi says, you hum in response waving that you’re coming. You feel slightly grateful to stand up from your desk and be done with all the paperwork for just a moment. It’s been slow running Benzo’s old shop. Nobody has really come in, especially now with everything going on between Zaun and Piltover so money’s real tight.

You walk out into the shop from behind the counter after your employee leads you there. You look up with crossed arms. “What can I do for you?” Asked with a fake interested tone.

“[Name]? You own the place now?” A familiar voice rings in your ears. Your eyes widened to look more clearly at your past friend/crush. “Violet?!” You jump over the counter, pulling her into a tight embrace. You hadn’t seen her since that horrible, idiotic heist that went so wrong. “Hey!” She holds you close to her, before pulling you back to get a better look at you.

“You still have that sweet innocent look.” She whispers, pulling you into another hug. Taking in your scent as tears fills your eyes. “How did you get out?” You back away this time, holding onto her shoulders to make sure she doesn’t go away. “Uh, see that pilty officer out there.” She points to the dark haired lady standing outside the shop with her hands on her hips seemingly impatient. “Yeah?”

“Her, I don’t know why but I’m not complaining.” Vi chuckles and you smile at her. “Want to invite her in?” It stuns her when you offer that, even Mexi was taken aback. She gets nervous, walking into the back so she doesn't have to speak to an officer. “Eh, she can experience the undercity a little more.” Vi waves it off, jumping onto the glass counter to sit down.

“Looks the same in here.” She sadly sighs, browses the place. “Tried not to change it drastically. Benzo did a pretty good job.” You frown, thinking back to the man who was like a father to you. “Is Ekko…”

“Nah, he’s doing his own thing now. Unfortunately it's the same with your sister.” You groan, reminding yourself of the blue-haired girl's antics with Silco. “Powder? What do you mean unfortunately?” Vi perks up. “She’s not really Powder anymore.” You start, hugging yourself as you think back to when Ekko begged you to fight with the fireflies.

“Let’s talk about something else.” You pick up a random gadget, fidgeting with it in your left hand. “How’s the free life?”

“I want to talk about Powder.” Vi gets off the counter, walking towards you. “Vi, no. You’ll find out on your own. I really don’t want to get into this.” You tell her simply, pleading silently with your facial expression. She wants to argue with you, beg for you to say more but she can’t. Not when your eyes are full of fear and sadness. You’ve always been so sweet-looking. So kind to people, giving them the benefit of the doubt. Which is rare in the undercity. It’s also stupid to most.

“Okay, okay. I- I don’t know, I’ve only been free for a few hours. This was the first place I went to.” She averts eye contact now. “Hm, I’m the first person you wanted to see, huh?” You joke, there wasn’t really any other option sadly. “Of course.” Vi smirks, nudging your arm.

“I’ve missed you.” You turn to her, pulling her into another hug. “I don’t want to let go of you. It’s like you’re going to disappear at any moment.” You whimper out, trying not to cry. Vi’s face softens, kissing the top of your head. “I promise I’m not leaving again.” Her hands go to your waist just letting you cling onto her.

“I’ll kill you before you get the chance to leave me.” You say, causing her to scoff out a laugh. The door bells go off and you both let each other go to see that officer standing there.

“Sorry to interrupt, Officer Caitlyn Kiramman.” She bows down to you before looking at Vi. “We should get going, I have important things to get to.”

You raise a brow on why Vi needs to go with this lady so badly. Vi sighs. “Give me a moment.” She tells the officer whose face contorts into an annoyed expression. “I’ve given you quite a few moments to reunite with your girlfriend here.” Cait spits out, obviously very antsy to get where she needs to be. The both of you awkwardly glance at one another now with flushed faces.

“Uh, it’s alright. I’ll see you later Vi.” You chuckle, taking her hand in yours. “There’s a fight in that one arena we used to go to behind Vander and Benzo’s back. It’s huge and you should come. Just like old times.” You propose to her, your face full of hope that she agrees to come.

“You can bring your bodyguard too.” You tease making her playfully roll her eyes. Cait tries to bite back a smile at the joke. “I’ll be there. I promise.” Vi squeezes your hand before letting go. “It’s at the usual time as well, I hope you remember.” You tell her as she leaves with the girl. “Oh I remember!” Vi calls back.

When the door shuts behind them and the bells still ring in your ears you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. Mexi comes out of hiding. “You two are dating?” She asks curiously. You choke on your spit. “Huh?”

“Well the officer said you were her girlfriend and neither one of you denied it.” She shrugs her shoulders, taking out her box of things to put away. “Oh, I mean we had a small thing as children but I haven’t seen her in 7 years. I’m sure she doesn’t think about me that way.” You ramble, putting the gadget back that forgot you were holding.

“I don’t know. The way she looked at you says otherwise.” Mexi winks, your face heats up. “Whatever.” You mutter, going back behind the counter and heading into the back to finish the paperwork you had.

•••

Vi and Caitlyn rummage through the crowd of people, trying to find you. “I don’t know if we’re going to find her before the fight!” Cait shouts over the yelling and the music that blasted. “I’m gonna try!” Violet huffs, shoving past all the people, getting to the front where maybe she could spot you on the other side of the arena. Her eyes traveled through the sea of moving bodies. “C’mon.” She mutters to herself. She didn’t want you to think she didn’t come. She had only made it five minutes before the fight even started because of what Cait and her had to do.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!!!” The announcer screams into the mic, only making everyone louder with their cheers. As he speaks, Vi only zones everything out, trying her hardest not to panic when attempting to find you.

“Isn’t that her?” Cait points down into the arena with eyebrows scrunched together. Vi’s eyes shoot down to see you standing there against a large woman. “Shit, what’s she doing!?” Violet urgently asks, gripping onto Caitlyn. “I think she’s about to fight.”

Vi gives her a dirty look, giving her attention back to the scene in front of her right as the announcer starts the fight. The woman attempts to attack you but you swerve out of the way. You look up to see Vi and Caitlyn. You blow them a kiss before turning to the woman and throwing a punch.

The lady doesn’t dodge it in time, getting hit right in the eyebrow. She tries to throw hits at you but you maneuver around them, hitting her in the right places to cause her to stumble. Vi leans over the edge, now cheering for you. “Kick her ass!” She shouts. Even Caitlyn was amazed at your fighting skills. She wasn’t expecting that from someone so… cute and sweet looking.

You swiped the lady's feet out from right under her. Going in for the punches. The larger lady attempts to push you away with no avail.

But when she sees an opening after multiple hits to the face she shoves you off of her. Getting herself up. You roll away, jumping to your feet, you weren’t paying attention when she gets a hit to the middle of your face. Violet gasps, nails digging into Caitlyn’s arm. The dark blue haired girl doesn’t pay attention though.

You spit out blood, wiping your mouth before going after the woman with more passion than before. Looking like a beast in the ring. You go right for her head, only taking a few hits for her to be back on the ground.

Not even five minutes into the fight and you win. Leaving her knocked out.

The announcer commentates as the crowd goes wild. Violet listens to all the people saying how little miss [Name] out there is undefeated. “Holy shit.” Cait whispers. You pump your fists into the air, jumping around for yourself. You have blood guzzling down your nose but you’re having a blast with the attention. You look up, locking eyes with Vi who has a look of bewilderment. You chuckle then motion with your head to the exit doors. She immediately understands what you’re saying. “Meet me at her shop, I’ll see you later.” Violet places a hand on Caitlyn’s shoulder before pushing through the crowd.

You and Vi used to sneak and see the fighters in the back frequently as children. Not to meet them or anything but just to say you were in the same room as them. Even then it was kept a secret between you both.

She sneaks through the men guarding the doors and slips into the very first room she can. Hands snake around her from behind. “Hey!” You scare her, making her jump away from you. She turns with her fists up in defense. You roar into laughter, mimicking her stance. She pouts from being made fun off and smacks your arm. “Why didn’t you tell me you were fighting?! I didn’t even know you could do all that!” She exclaims as you grin.

“I wanted it to be surprising! Wasn’t I so amazing out there?” You lift your arms, flexing your muscles. “Yeah but honestly I did not see that coming from someone so… adorable?” She tilts her head as she tries to find the right word to call you.

“Awe I’m adorable?” You poke her side, heading over to the full body mirror in the room, taking the wraps off your hands. “I mean, you’ve always been pretty cute. Like y’know sweet looking. I’ve never seen you even hurt someone!” she maundered, speaking with her hands flailing trying to explain what she meant with bright red ears.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures. I don’t exactly enjoy being some beast fighter but it pays the bills.” You lean against the little table beside the mirror. Staring off into space at Vi’s shoes. “The shop not doing good?” Vi asks. “It’s seen better days. I have enough for everything except paying Mexi but I’m not letting her go. She’s helped way too much for me to do that.” You sigh, thinking about the young worker who you practically took under your wing.

“So you risk yourself so you don’t have to fire just one person.” She quizzes and you go to defend your actions but she just snickers. “Gosh you really are too sweet for your own good, [Name]. I love you so much.” She holds her stomach as she laughs. Amused by how kind you are. “You love me?” You attempt to tease her but her face drops, realising what she said. “I mean, yeah! I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.” She speaks so nonchalantly it catches you off guard. When she said she loved you, you thought of it as a family thing. Not romantic. You weren’t upset but your mind was spiraling now.

“I’m sorry if it’s too much. I don’t even know if you have a partner already or something. I’ve been gone for so long I just. I’ve never stopped thinking about you even though we were only 15.” She over-explains, and you go up to her, putting a finger to her lips. “I love you too, Violet. I wasn’t kidding when I said I missed you.” You tell her earnestly, your hand going to her cheek.

Her shoulders drop, relieved by your words. “Oh thank god, I thought I had just scared you or something. I feel so stupid.” You shush her with a small laugh. “I forgot how much you talk when you’re nervous.” You whisper as she plants her forehead on yours. “I only do it with you.” She shamefully admits.

“Mm, really?” You ask before locking your lips on hers. She moans into the kiss, deepening it by bringing you closer to her. The kiss was rough, making up for lost time. Wandering hands over one another's bodies.

When you pull apart you grin, throwing your arms over her shoulders. “We're dating.” You state, not asking but telling her. She shakes her head. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well you do now.”

You peck her lips.

•••

Time passes and Vi comes into the shop whenever she can, you let Mexi watch over so the both of you can go out. Always in cute light colored clothes in such a dark place.

People never understood how you were so bubbly, giving to others and dancing in the middle of Zaun.

Violet loved it, watching as a street performer played and you danced to music. Children joining you. Even a few adults. It was these moments the undercity needed. A little distraction from the horrors about to come.

You’d have these sweet moments everyday and then night comes and you’re in people's nightmares. Fighting to pay the bills you said. Fighting to win and prove you’re more than what others call a weak minded, overly nice girl. And Vi’s there to support her girl through it all.

Loving every second.

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