#if i had this on the switch i could see how fast i could play through the game WHILE talking to people and having fun and exploring
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you wanna be mad ⧗ yelena x new avenger f!reader
♡ prev part ♡ part four ♡ next part
♡ minors and men dni ⋆ no use of y/n ⋆ wlw ⋆ enemies to lovers ⋆ injury ⋆ amnesia trope ⋆ yelena doesn’t understand her feelings ⋆ r is rightfully confused ⋆ ignore any spelling or grammar mistakes i will probably find them later ⋆ divider ⋆
♡ masterlist ♡ word count: 2k
bones’ now playing ▶︎ mad - reneé rapp
stop thinking about it. famous last words.
all you were doing was thinking about it. all you could do was sit and think about it.
it’s not like you could even really ask her yourself. even if you managed to corner her, you doubt it would take much for her to get out of the situation, not matter how many different scenarios you played out in your head. in your current condition you didn’t stand a chance physically. even though you were missing most of you memories, you were almost positive you wouldn’t stand a chance to begin with.
the team was out, the initial excitement of your condition had worn down and everyone seemed to be falling back into a somewhat normal rhythm.
they were still working on the tracking the bio weapon. bucky was keeping you in the dark about almost everything. doctors advised you off all work until they cleared you. your memory was foggy, almost like everything was there you just couldn’t really see it.
when you tried to think about the night that ceiling collapsed it was completely blank.
you had been dealing with bouts of vertigo all morning, so you hadn’t done much other than think and nap. after a few hours the couch began to agitate the constant ache in your back, so you slid off and onto the floor. the stretch the tile floor provided your spine felt far too good for you to be bothered to move back.
after twenty minutes of floor time you could hear light, relatively quick, footsteps approaching the room. they halted before they could take a second step further into the room.
yelena had paused at the doorway. her eyes immediately drawn to a half empty cup of water on the countertop, your crutches leaning against the edge of the black granite, and your notebook on the backside of the couch. but no you. not sitting or standing anywhere in sight.
her heart rate jumped up as her eyes began to scan the floor for your possible unconscious body and when yelena saw nothing she called out your name. she inwardly cursed as her voice shook.
“hey,” you called back. her head snapped towards the couch and she was standing over you in four very fast strides. when her head appeared above you she looked worried but relieved.
“what the hell are you doing?” she breathed out sharply. you blinked.
“dizzy,” you said with an awkward shrug from the floor. “and my back hurt. so... floor time.”
“you should have said something.” she snipped walking into the kitchen. yelena was clearly irritated. you had figured she and the rest of the team would be annoyed with you for alerting about just feeling dizzy.
“i’m fine, yelena.” you pushed yourself up with your good side.
“don’t get up.” yelena called as she looked at the basket by the light switches. the spot where bob designated for your medication organizer. also where she was currently looking at the pills bob put out this morning still sitting in front of the case.
she was back over with your cup, now refilled, and your medications cupped in her palm. you looked over at the numbers of the clock. had she come down here to make sure you took them? embarrassed you forgot to take them this morning, you thanked her before plucking them from her hands.
“we set all of these stupid alarms,” yelena walked back out of your view behind the couch. “why haven’t you taken your medication yet?” you blinked.
when you opened your eyes, the room wasn’t the same room anymore. you where suddenly sat on the bed of your dorm room at the avengers compound. there was clambering in the bathroom to the other side of the room.
“and why haven’t you been taking your medication?” natasha exited, she had a scrape on the side of her chin, a small single stitch above her brow. you blinked again. “nothing to say for yourself?” she questioned shaking the almost full bottle. you sheepishly grinned.
“i keep forgetting.”
this was after a mission in berlin, you had been burned on the backside of your leg while scaling through large machinery. not your proudest moment. it only got worse when you had to evac yourself and was on the run for two days. this was your second round of antibiotics and you had honestly gotten bored of the routine and kept forgetting.
“it looks fine.” you assured her.
“you’re still limping.” she chucked the pill bottle at you. “now get up, wound care needs to look at that.” opening the cap you swallowed two pills dry. she gave you a disapproving look.
“nat, i said i think it’s fine.” you urged.
“say that now, but when you get gangrene...” you gasped face contorting into horror.
“no i’m not!”
“hey f.r.i.d.a.y.?” she called out. “she can get gangrene right?”
“yes, agent romanoff, untreated infections can lead to gangrene.” the ai answered.
your newfound panic delighted natasha as you willingly let her drag you out of your room and to the elevator so medical could look at your leg. hopefully the nurses could scare you into taking better care of it.
natasha pressed one of the elevator floor buttons, but when you looked at them they all read the number 8. to fill the silence, she had been whistling some random song you recognized from something steve had played before. suddenly she snapped in your ear, you turned to look at her puzzled. she wore worried expression.
the elevator dinged and the doors opened. when natasha opened her mouth to speak, the voice that spoke wasn't hers.
"are you with me?" you blinked.
two snaps accompanied by a short whistle. yelena was on her knee beside you, her face very close to yours. “are you with me?” her expression was hard to read but she did look uncomfortable. this was the second time she’d seen you space out like that.
“i don’t like the new one.” you blurted. she stared at you, lips parting slightly.
“the new what?” you didn’t want to answer her. your emotional attachment to tony’s ai assistant would only make her seem less enthralled to be in the same room as you. “do you mean the computer?” yelena concluded. your lack of response was enough for her.
“i know that must sound kinda weird but,” she cut you off before you could ramble.
“i get it.” she shrugged. “the first one became the vision right? so f.r.i.d.a.y. was kind of sorta like an almost person.”
“yeah.” you agreed quietly. her eyes moved to the stitches in your hairline. the swollen skin had begun to turn green as the bruise began to bloom through your skin.
“i don’t like the way that looks.” she said, her hand gripped your chin, tilting your face down. “it should not be so dry. you use the bacitracin right?” you nodded dumbly too caught up in the moment of déjà vu. “you are a liar.” she laughed. releasing your face. “dry as a bone, does this not hurt?”
“everything kinda hurts.” you shrugged. “also it makes my hair feel kinda gross.” she didn’t like your answer, but moved her hand carefully to touch the skin two inches away from the stitches. the skin was warm to the touch.
“stay put.” she returned less than ten minutes later with the tube of antibiotic. the one from your bathroom counter. she washed her hands before kneeling back down in front of you and layering a healthy amount on the stitches.
“you’re face will fall off if you are not careful,” she joked in an attempt to scare you into better self care. you laughed softly as she twisted the cap back on. “and then there would be nobody to scowl at me.”
you nodded, “right, grim reaper.”
“you are not the grim reaper.” yelena said, standing up and walking back out of your view. “the grim reaper probably doesn’t sleep with their childhood blankie.” you scoffed at her, embarrassed she knew that fact about you. the weird feeling of seeing your beloved childhood friend aged ten years was hard to grasp. but you were happy it was at least still around.
“oh, so you are mean to me.” you jokingly fired back. yelena snorted, still out of view.
“maybe a little bit.” the both of you joined into a soft laughter.
ava phased through a wall and paused. her eyes comically compounding between the two of you. “am i interrupting?” she asked halting her steps.
yelena coughed, “no.”
you shrugged.
ཐི⋆⚰︎⋆ཋྀ
“dr. raynor asked how you were doing.” bucky said. you sat at the counter peeling vegetables for bob as he busied himself cooking dinner.
“oh.”
“at least your enthusiasm for therapy hasn’t changed at all.” he joked. you sighed.
“bucky, my brain is like,” you paused trying to find an analogy graphic enough, “raw sewage, and the last thing i want to do is try to talk about it.”
“and that’s exactly why you talk about it.” he said as hr stole a diced carrot piece off your cutting board.
“he’s right,” bob butted in. “like someone else is there to try and make it make sense.”
you chewed on your inner cheek. “i just don’t want to!” you blurted. you didn’t want to talk to her. you didn’t want to talk to another person who knew more about yourself than you did. you were tired. tired of being injured, tired of what your life was. just tired.
bucky set his jaw, ignoring your outburst. “she’ll be here tomorrow at 10.” showing no signs of anger or malice, he left the room. he understood your anger. but he also understood that you needed to be back in therapy right now.
finding his way to yelena’s door. he knocked with his vibrinium hand to show who it was. as soon as the door opened, he stepped right into the room.
“oh-kay,” yelena gaped at his boldness moving out of his way. “come in? i guess?” yelena’s room was simple, but obviously lived in by a girl. nothing compared to the sad look of bucky’s own very baron quarters.
“i need a favor.” he crossed his arms while she eyed him nervously.
“dr. raynor is coming to the watchtower tomorrow.” yelena breathed out an oh, briefly fearing if she was coming for another impromptu assessment on the entire time.
“and i need the grim reaper to not skip her appointment.”
yelena let out a silent sigh of relief and dared to ask, “and this has something to do with me?”
“yeah it does. i need you to make sure she doesn’t skip her appointment.” bucky clarified, “i’m leaving tonight to meet a ci in philly.”
“how convenient.”
“convenient i have to go see him to get intel on a lead you hung up on?” yelena closed her mouth.
“do you expect me to tie her up?” yelena joked.
“she’s on crutches, and is very eager to be around you. i don’t think you’ll have a problem.” bucky turned to walk out of the room.
“ah-ah- she what?” he didn’t stop walking away.
“thank you, yelena.”
HI ♡ thank u for +200 followers on here ! here are some current wips that have sort of made it out of the trenches of my notes




masterlist ♡ bones
taglist: @s0urw00lf
#yelena belova#yelena belova x reader#yelena belova x female reader#lesbian#wlw#wlw fanfic#yelena belova x you#yelena belova fanfiction#yelena belova fic#yelena x reader#yelena black widow#thunderbolts#new avengers#marvel fanfic
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Anakin Skywalker Spicy Alphabet
a/n: I apologise for nothing - E🌻
WARNINGS: 18+, breeding!kink, praise!kink, light stalking, dom/sub, smut beneath the break
A – Aftercare: What are they like after sex?
Anakin would be super clingy after sex, staying inside for a few extra seconds before pulling out and immediately cuddling close. Lots of hair stroking and gazing into your eyes. It helps him to stay connected and reassure him that you’re safe with him.
B – Body part: What’s their favorite body part on their partner?
Anakin’s more romantic side would say eyes - just one look and he can tell what you’re feeling, both good and bad. During sex, he becomes obsessed with using his large hands to squeeze your arse.
C – Cum: Where do they like to finish?
Slight breeding kink so would enjoy finishing inside you but only ever with your permission.
D – Dirty secret: What’s something spicy they secretly fantasize about?
Light stalking for sure - before you were together he would find ways to track your location when on away missions as he was so concerned about you. Now that you’re together he often fantasizes about stalking you with the ultimate goal of dragging you into a room and…
E – Experience: how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?
Considering the he grew up being taught the Jedi way, Anakin is not very experienced at all. He’s always super eager to please (see praise kink).
F - Favourite position
Missionary. He loves to see your face and reactions Needs to be able to tell if what he’s doing is pleasurable and to check he’s not hurt you. When he’s feeling in a more dominate mood, he’ll take you from behind but this is rare.
G – Goofy: Can they laugh during sex or are they serious?
Depends on the situation - usually very rare that he’s goofy though. He wants to fuck you hard and make you feel good.
H – Hair: Do they care about body hair—on themselves or others?
Doesn’t care. He’s well groomed himself but doesn’t have an opinion on others body hair.
I – Intimacy: What makes them feel closest to their partner?
Anakin loved intimate sex more than dominant and kinky. Wants to see you and feel emotionally close as he slowly enters you and leans his head against yours the entire time.
J – Jack off: Do they touch themselves often? Do they think about their partner when they do?
Anakin will usually wait until you’re getting ready for bed before he starts jerking off. When you come back into the bedroom he’ll look you straight in the eye and continue until you join in and help him finish.
K – Kinks: What are their top 3 kinks?
Praise (both giving and receiving - he turns into a mushy puddle whenever you tell him what a “good boy” he is)
Light stalking (secret fantasy)
Dom/Sub play (switching between the two)
L – Location: Favorite place to get it on (besides the bedroom)?
Once did it in the Jedi council room, whispering filthy things about imagining the council walking in and seeing him fuck you like a good little slut.
M – Moan: Are they loud? Do they try to hold it in?
Would be extremely loud - after years of being told to control his emotions and reactions, Anakin finds that he can completely let go whenever he’s around you (especially during sex). The first few times you had sex, he would try to hold any sounds in. After you figured this out (alongside his praise kink) the moans became loud and untamed.
N – No: what is a hard limit for them?
Anything that would mean he left permanent marks on you or could lead to you getting seriously hurt if he lost control e.g. knife/lightsaber play.
O – Oral: Giving or receiving? How do they feel about it?
Both. Loves whatever you’re willing to give him.
P – Pace: Fast and rough or slow and sensual?
Always prefers slow sex but can switch between gentle and rough whenever he feels like it.
Q – Quickie: Yes or no? When and where?
Yes, especially if he’s had a stressful day. Being able to distract himself by sinking into you is worth it.
R – Risk: Are they into public play or getting caught?
Although he often asks you to imagine what people would say if they saw him fucking you, the actual reality of that sends him into a possessive, alpha male spiral. So no, would not be into public sex at all.
S – Stamina: How many rounds can they go? How long do they last?
Anakin Skywalker, the chosen one, later to become Darth Vader…I’d say he could go on for a lonnngggg time.
T – Toys: Do they use toys? Which ones?
I feel like Anakin himself wouldn’t own any toys due to his lack of experience and when he first finds your modest selection he would blush bright red and not be able to look you in the eye. As time passes he would become curious and eventually watch you use them while he jerked off.
U – Unusual: What’s something unexpected that turns them on?
Seeing you force choke someone. The dominance of it surprises him and turns him on like crazy. Something to be experimented with in the bedroom for sure.
V – Volume: Are they loud in bed? What do they sound like?
Yessss (see M - Moan OR anytime he’s in pain during the prequel films).
W – Wild card: Random spicy headcanon of your choice!
Subby brat Anakin Skywalker…that’s all I’m gonna say.
X – X-Rated: What kind of dirty talk do they use, if any?
Anakin’s praise kink means he uses lots of “well done” and “you’re fucking beautiful” etc.
Y – Yearning: How do they act when they’re really turned on but can’t have their partner?
Fidgety. Like full on ADHD can’t stop moving until he can eventually have sex with you.
Z – Zzz: How quickly do they fall asleep after? Do they cuddle?
A lil’ sleepy boi. Would give you a tired smile, cuddle you close and try his hardest to keep his eyes open until you drift off first. He doesn’t manage to half the time but you never mind.
Word Count: 1,011K
I do not own any of the gifs found in this post.
Please do not repost without permission.
Likes, re-blogs and comments are always welcome!
- E🌻
#alphabet#star wars#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker#hayden christensen#anakin skywalker smut
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Bombshell Pt. 3
Requested: no
Pairing: Nico Hischier x reader
Words: 1.5k
Warning(s): none
Part 2
Episode Title: “Date Vibes & Drama Elsewhere”
The villa was unusually quiet the next morning — the kind of quiet that only comes after a dramatic night and a game-changing coupling. The only sound was the faint splash of water as Tyrese did laps in the pool and the sizzle of breakfast sausages in the pan.
Y/N and Nico lay tangled in the same bed for the first time, her head tucked under his chin, his hand lazily tracing shapes along her back.
“I could get used to this,” Nico murmured.
Y/N smiled sleepily. “Good. Because I don’t plan on switching beds anytime soon.”
The girls were sat around the island in robes and sunglasses, sipping iced coffees. The boys were loitering around the garden furniture, nursing hangovers and throwing toast at each other. Will was the first to break the silence.
“So…” he said, dragging the word out with a mischievous grin, “anything happen last night in the new couple’s bed?”
Maya snorted into her orange juice. “Here we go.”
All eyes turned to Nico and Y/N, who were walking in from the bedroom, looking suspiciously happy and very much together.
Nico raised an eyebrow, playing it cool.
“I don’t kiss and tell,” he said smoothly, a smirk tugging at his lips.
The villa erupted.
“Ayyy!” “Say LESS!” “10 out of 10 vibes confirmed!”
Y/N laughed, clearly flustered, and turned into Nico’s chest, hiding her face in the crook of his neck.
“Stop it,” she groaned, muffled in embarrassment.
“You’re glowing, babe,” Jessie teased.
“Mind your business,” Y/N mumbled, peeking out with a smile.
As if it felt to comfortable for everyone, after two weeks people were starting to get annoyed with each other about the little things. Mitch and Jessie were bickering about toast. Ella looked stressed. Tyrese seemed distant.
“I don’t know,” Ella said quietly to Maya. “He just feels… off today.”
Meanwhile, Will loudly announced, “If I don’t get a text today telling me I’m going on a date, I’m walking out that door and straight into the sea.”
As if the Love Island gods were listening, Will’s phone dinged. “I’ve got a text!”
“Y/N and Nico, it’s time for your first date. Please get ready to leave the villa. #tenoutoftenenergy #lockitin”
The villa erupted.
“Ohhh! Power couple things!” Will shouted.
Nico glanced at Y/N with a raised brow. “Looks like we’re leaving this chaos for a bit.”
Y/N was already halfway up the stairs. “I need five minutes and a dress that screams ‘I’m already taken.’”
When Y/N stepped out of the girls’ dressing room, the girls were shouting how hot she looked. As soon as she saw Nico, their shared a look. It wasn’t difficult to see that these two were already head over heels with each other, and it’s only been a day.
The car dropped them off at a dreamy, sunlit olive grove just outside the villa. A table was set for two under fairy lights strung between trees. The cicadas hummed in the background. It felt like a movie.
As they sat down, Nico poured them wine and lifted his glass. “To not hesitating.”
“To giving it a proper shot,” Y/N added.
They laughed, they flirted, and they talked deeper than they had before.
“Honestly,” Nico said, “I didn’t expect someone to come in here and knock me sideways like that.”
Y/N leaned in. “I didn’t expect to like someone this fast. Usually takes me ages.”
“So we’re both surprised.”
“But not complaining,” she added.
He reached across the table, lacing his fingers with hers. “This feels different. Doesn’t it?”
She nodded. “Yeah. It really does.”
While the couple enjoyed olive trees and wine, things were unravelling back at the villa. Jessie and Mitch were in the middle of a tense disagreement.
“You flirted with her right in front of me, Mitch!”
“It wasn’t flirting, it was banter. You always take things too far.”
Ella pulled Tyrese for a chat after he’d been cold all morning.
“I feel like you’re pulling away,” she said quietly.
Tyrese looked off into the distance. “I’m not sure if we’re on the same page anymore.”
Maya and Will watched it all unfold from the sunbeds.
“Bro,” Will said, “this villa’s turning into Casa Chaos and Nico’s just out there living the rom-com dream.”
That evening, Y/N and Nico returned to the villa glowing, and it wasn’t just the tan.
“How was it?!” Jessie asked, trying to smile despite the tension in her own couple.
“Magical,” Y/N grinned.
“I want a date,” Ella muttered under her breath.
Nico gave Will a playful shoulder bump. “Still want to walk into the sea?”
“Honestly? Yes.”
Later, Y/N joined the girls in the dressing room, slipping off her sandals and plopping down in front of the mirror.
“Okay,” Maya grinned. “Tell us everything.”
Y/N laughed. “It was honestly perfect. Olive grove, fairy lights, wine. He was sweet, attentive — just… ugh. It felt real, you know?”
Jessie sighed. “That sounds like a dream.”
Ella, still clearly off, looked down. “Glad someone’s day was good.”
Y/N tilted her head. “What happened here?”
The girls filled her in quickly — Jessie and Mitch’s tension, Tyrese icing Ella out, and how the villa had felt like walking on eggshells all day. Maya leaned in. “Honestly? You and Nico were out living a rom-com while this place turned into an episode of Love Island: War Zone.”
Y/N blinked. “Wow. Okay. I leave for two hours and everything unravels?”
“Pretty much,” Jessie muttered.
Meanwhile, Nico had joined the boys near the fire pit, dropping onto the bench next to Mitch and Will.
“How was the date then?” Will asked, sipping a beer.
“A dream,” Nico admitted. “We talked properly. Like, past the flirting and banter. She's different, man.”
Mitch raised an eyebrow. “So it’s real, then?”
“Yeah,” Nico said simply. “I don’t need to graft anyone else. I’m locked in.”
Will grinned. “Love that for you. Now tell your girl to manifest a date for the rest of us.”
They all laughed except Tyrese, who sat quiet, jaw tense.
“You alright, bro?” Nico asked.
Tyrese shrugged. “Just got some stuff to figure out.”
Mitch muttered under his breath, “Here we go again…”
The stars shimmered over the villa as the Islanders drifted into their evening rhythms, some lingering near the fire pit, others wrapped up in whispered chats. As drama crackled quietly in corners of the villa, Nico and Y/N found peace together on the swing seat near the fire pit. They sat with her head on his shoulder, legs tangled under a shared blanket.
“Thanks for today,” she whispered.
“No, thank you,” he murmured. “This whole place feels loud, but with you, it’s just... quiet.”
“Let��s keep it that way.”
He laughed. “Deal. No triangles. No love hexagons.”
He kissed the top of her head and, for now, their bubble stayed intact, untouched by the surrounding chaos. They sat there in comfortable silence, the sounds of the villa distant, until they heard a familiar voice approaching.
“Okay, I’m sorry to ruin your romantic little movie moment,” Jessie said dramatically, “but I need the villa’s mum and dad, and I need them now.”
Nico chuckled, sitting up straighter. “Mum and dad? That’s what we are now?”
Jessie flopped onto the beanbag across from them, groaning. “You’re the only two people in this villa not in a feud, love triangle, or emotional tailspin. So yes. I am humbling myself. Parent me.”
Y/N grinned. “Alright, daughter. What’s going on?”
Jessie sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Mitch. Is. Doing. My. Head. In.”
“Still?” Nico asked gently.
Jessie nodded. “He says it’s just banter, but he was straight up flirting with Y/N yesterday in the kitchen. Then he tells me I take things too seriously.”
Y/N blinked. “Wait, seriously? That wasn’t just cheeky chat?”
Jessie gave her a look. “Girl, he said if it didn’t work out with you and Nico, he had a sunbed ready for you.”
Nico raised an eyebrow. “Bold.”
Jessie groaned again. “It’s like… he doesn’t know how to be straight with me unless I’m pulling away. Then suddenly he wants to talk. It’s exhausting.”
Y/N reached out and took her hand. “You don’t owe anyone your energy if they’re only giving you scraps.”
Jessie exhaled. “I know. I just needed to hear it from someone who’s not currently yelling at someone else.”
Nico grinned. “We’ll always keep a spot on the swing for you.”
Jessie looked between them, a small smile breaking through. “Seriously though, you two are like the only stable couple in here. It's giving future Christmas cards.”
Y/N laughed. “We’ll make sure to include you in the family group chat.”
Jessie stood up, mock wiping a tear. “Okay. I'm going to go be toxic with class now. Thanks, parents.”
As she walked off, Y/N leaned back into Nico’s chest.
“Well,” she said softly, “I guess we’re the calm in the storm.”
“Let’s keep it that way,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple.
#nico hischier#nico hischier imagine#nico hischier x reader#nico hischier fanfiction#nico hischier fanfic#nico hischier fic#nico hischier smut#nico hischier blurb#nico imagine#nico x reader#nico fanfiction#nico fanfic#nico fic#nico smut#nico blurb#nico#hischier#nhl imagine#nhl x reader#nhl fanfiction#nhl fanfic#nhl fic#nhl blurb#nhl smut#nhl hockey#nhl players#new jersey devils nico#new jersey devils#nj devils#hockey fanfic
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first female loz director and the gerudo seem to be written fine enough? wow... there ain't no way I thought we were in the worst timeline after totk
Yeah got through the main quest with the gerudo, it wasn't painful! It wasn't even bad! Still got them outfits but for the most part it was like oh cool!
I would say a lot of that oh cool is from the fact they didn't do a lot to even fuck it up to begin with, I'm gonna be real with yall this game is NOT worth $60USD
Edit: lemme say one thing, you know when people were being like damn totk story wasn't dark or mature at all why was this compared to Majora's mask again? And then all the zeldatwt people came out and said zelda is just a kid series domt expect good writing uH
This one feels like a kid's game. That ain't to say it's terrible I would say, hell I'm not far in it if I get something crazy that's like OH FUCK I'll reblog this post and say something but uh.....game for babies I'm gonna be shocked if anyone struggles with any puzzles cuz you CAN CHEESE THEM EASY ITS 🫢🤭
EDIT EDIT: I SWEAR IM NOT EVEN TRYING TO BE A DOWNER..... @ezlo-x HAS BEEN THERE THE WHOLE TIME IVE BEEN PLAYING....THEY KNOW I HAVENT BEEN A PARTY POOPER.....
#its......seems quick#the sidequests are very boring tbh#like this game should of been 45-50 max not 60#its cute i like it so far but oh my god the optimization and game design could of been way better#and after botw/totk like....how do i put this#its like nintendo heard hey we need a LITTLE bit of rail roading and then#😬#basically...example#for a main quest i have to go to 2 places to get people#i went to the 2nd place first and it......didnt update the side quest even though she should of gone to the meeting place#thTs apart of the quest but no i had to go to the 1st guy no matter what#and its like.....hey botw not totk would do that#most GAMES in general now wouldnt do something like that#also yall gonna hate the fact there is no organization or favorites tool for the echoes#game is fun so far but uH#i got through the first dungeon FAST FAST like this is not a return to form#minish cap dungeons i dont think were that fast and theyre simple#also anyone that says this dorsnt have mechanics from the wilds games yes it does#tri has an ability thats JUST ultra hand#oh and its not good in this game#yall gonna fucking hate it#unless somehow a pirated version doesnt allow you to rotate the fucking item or move it in a way that goes behind me#without me locking off and then back on again after repostioning myself#im worried its a feature and not an anti piracy measure#me and GC are gonna finish this up this week but dang i havent even done the whole first part of the main quest#if i had this on the switch i could see how fast i could play through the game WHILE talking to people and having fun and exploring#also oh my god the zora side quest very cute but when eveeyone knows how the game goes ill make one complaint in the tags one day#funny thing its not story....ITS GAMEPLAY#yhe story in the game is fine and i say that cuz its....very simple#HELL A LOT OF NPCS DONT GOT NAMES THAT ARE VISIBLE
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ㅤㅤ the colorama in your eyes, takes me on a moonlight drive.
cw # 18+ mdni, fakegirlfriend!vi, this contains smut at some point, tribbing, fingering, titty love, dirty talk, slight dumbification?, soft!dom vi, switch!reader, use of marijuana, drunk-kissing, vi gives you tons of nicknames, swearing, reader has a crush on a straight girl for the plot, vi used to date sarah fortune, collage, hockey au.
wc: 20,809 // masterlists // playlist
an # this was my first long fic and to be honest, i love it with all my heart so i hope you do too, fake dating is one of my favorite tropes lol it's long really so yeah grab your snacks and enjoy the ride?? jocks dont get tested for drugs in this universe bc i say so. if you read the 20k words, know that we are bonded for life. again, if you recognize this from before: it's because my old account vicorices got deleted thanks to tumblr fuckery. welcome back boo.
"can you pretend you want me?"
the air is thick at eleven o'clock, and violet tries to remember why she's there again, drinking warm beer from a plastic cup while she listens to her friend tell the same story she repeats over and over when she had a drink or two, even when it's plain wednesday — right. powder.
her sister wanted moral support to socialize, giving vi a hard time now that she was left there with a couple of friends from the team, with no sign of her sister nowhere close to be seen.
"sorry, can you pretend you want me?" vi doesn't really notice she's being talked to until you place yourself in front of her vision. the sound of your voice clearer than the music. "quick. it's a matter of life or death."
"excuse me-" her brows furrow in question "what did you say?"
"fuck- one minute," there's no much time to think about it when you're invading her space suddenly, even in front of her friends as you make her corner you against the brick wall of the frat house, one vi didn't pay much attention to until now — "pretend you want me for a minute, please."
it happens so fast she has no room to say anything, cause you're talking to her one time only to yank her away from her teammates the other in the weirdest request she's ever had from a girl, yet from up close, vi's able to look at you under the dim lights that changed colors: yeah she can do that, she can pretend she's into you.
she suffers from this hero syndrome that compels her to help people out, so she's playing the part by heart, with a purpose now cause why the fuck no? you're pretty, and the color on your eyes is nice to look at, takes her briefly to the moon as she's leaning against you, prying on you with a hungry look.
"who are you trying to seduce?" she asks politely, but her actions seem far from gentleness when she's leaning against your neck, nose catching on the smell on your skin as her hands find your waist.
"the red haired," you breathe out thankful that she's following you around, and your fingers find a strand of her hair to twirl it in your digit, slightly pulling on it as you speak. you're licking on your lips, doe eyes as a smile tugs on the corner of your lips, flirting, you are flirting — "the one with curls talking with the girl on a yellow dress. don't look."
yeah you're pretty. of course you fucking are, cause vi has no trouble in not looking, fixated by the softness of your skin, how pliant you are in her arms in a situation that turns everything that was boring in a experience.
"is she seeing us?" she asks you again "your girl. she watching you?"
she's being kind she thinks, cause that's new. not many girls came out of nowhere asking stuff like that, so forward, and vi is a girl's girl after all. of course she's going to help you out to get a girl jealous, in fact, she hope a pretty girl like you could get what you wanted by the end of the night, the curly redhead or whatever.
"yeah i think so, she's going to walk behind you any moment" you let her know, low enough so she can hear you now because she's so damn close out of sudden it gives vi enough time to press a kiss against the crook of your neck, that spot where your shoulder meets your neck and she can feel you shivering beneath her hands, because she never would do that on a girl she just met, one that she didn't even knew her name, but she's helping you out due to boredom so who she is to ever judge?
the scent of your perfume hit her nostrils and it really seems like it — that she wanted you. she manages to be gentle even when she's trying to look fully into you and by your smile, vi's sure she made it good.
"i think she looked," you stated proudly. removing yourself from her arms as quickly as you jumped in them, looking at the direction your curly girl left "thank you, really saved me there."
"who's that, your ex girlfriend or something?" she asks curiously, forgetting about her warm beer now rotting in the cup she forgot somewhere in between the acting.
"no, that's my roommate" you quickly explain, "straight."
"well that's tough, my regards on your death wish" vi nose wrinkles and her expression makes you laugh cause deep down, you also know you're doomed. "so she looked huh? congratulations, now you just have to brainwash her entirely."
"very funny," you roll your eyes in response "i'm playing my cards right, you'd be surprised."
"right" she teases, "so that's why you're asking a total stranger to act like a one night stand, good tactic i'd fall for it."
"we've shared ten minutes," and vi's holding on a chuckle when you seem to have a response for every single one of her comments, endearing "i think we're not really strangers no more, it makes us friends now."
"i'm violet, vi" she would assume everyone knew her name already since she's been winning game after game this season and hockey's a big thing for piltover's university, but you don't really seem to know her when you're saying your name as a formal introducing, weirdly enough, right after she just kissed your skin like a long time lover.
"are you here on your own, vi? cause my friends ditched me for hook-ups, and you seemed bored too."
now that she looks back at it — she should have said something like she was too busy, that she was heading home already or something like that. end up things right away before she got stung on the neck, but to be fair, you're fun to be with, you're pretty and she could use a friend that don't talk about hockey for a while, so she accepts, saying something about her beer tasting like mud, making you go and join her to find alcohol in a frat house already full of people.
it was a slip, a mistake maybe, but by the hour she's sure you're a long-lost friend, like a limb vi has lost somewhere in her lifetime. you're a little weirdo who knows about a lot of art and won't ever spend time, willingly watching any kind of sports. the kind of girl who remembers the speech from a movie, but's unable to name the schedule you took in the semester from memory.
"so you're an art kid?" she questions you, "i've never been in that part of the campus."
"yeah, we're pretty hidden" you admit, taking a sip from the beer you found in the freezer "jocks don't go to places like that."
"interesting fact, so you know i play hockey?"
"of course i know who you are, vi" you end up saying after a moment of silence, seated comfortable in the small cement bench as you smoke from the joint she invited you to smoke outside after an hour or so "but i have to play cool too, otherwise i'll feed your ego and you're not even the captain of the hockey team. i'm afraid to said i don't live under a rock."
you seem almost proud of saying it, and vi forgets about how powder had to drag her there, push and almost threat to get her out of bed when she lets out a loud laugh of pure entertainment — to be honest vi's going through a break-up from almost three months ago, so yeah, it's fair she regretted showing up at first, she don't want to see sarah, not even by mistake, but her ex is not around and she's utterly having fun for a chance.
"ah, you cheated on me," vi tries to act all hurt when in reality she's actually enjoying this random act of honesty, simple fun "that's bad girl behavior i'm sorry- trying to get a straight girl? lying to my face? you're truly a menace."
"shut up, she's coming."
"who, again?"
"ava my straight roommate- fuck" it's cute when you panic, passing her the joint concerned of your state "do i look high? too bad? look interested in me or else i'll cry. i mean it, vi."
and she's going to protest, say some stupid joke now that you know each other a bit more, that you've warmed up, but ava's there and you're greeting her all handsy and shit, having to hold on the laugh when you blatantly lie saying you didn't see her around until now. crazy little liar.
"she's vi," you presented her, and to hell because she has to act all clingy again, wrapping her arm around your waist only to pull you between her spread legs, chest pressing against your side as you think quickly, out of pure nervousness before adding,"my girlfriend."
it makes vi choke on the smoke. her grip tightening as she hides the puzzled look on her face and you give her that look of oh-god-have-i-fucked-up-my-entire-life? in slow motion — "vi, this is ava, my roommate."
"hi."
you're dragging her into a mess and all she can do is mutter a silent what-the-fuck against your shoulder as she greets ava with a smile, keeping you against her chest cause well: she's your girlfriend it supposes, and vi would never be a shitty lover, fake or not.
"nice seeing you guys around, you too vi, glad to meet you" and maybe she's too high already vibing with it, but vi can smell the flirting in the air when your roommate talks directly to you "gonna make pasta when i come home, do you want some?"
"sure, thank you ave. you can leave it in the kitchen counter."
"no worries. i got you."
vi waits until the girl's inside before giving you that look. the look of not understanding shit, of being clueless as you turn around almost begging for mercy, leaning in her embrace knowing you were the one who seek for more trouble in the first place.
and a hockey player should be aware of everything, so vi should've seen it before, way before when she's not really uncomfortable with you seated between her legs, unaware of the rest of the party already gossiping — what's vi doing with a girl like you anyway?
"please?" you try after a long moment of silence, and she already knows what you're asking.
"no," vi shakes her head almost at the same time. "d'you know how exhausting is to fake something like that? it's like having a real girlfriend, have you seen the movies?"
"vi," you cry out, looking back at her with puppy eyes. "i'll make it easy i promise, no weird stuff i'm begging you."
"don't you have another friend that could help you out with this?" she asks, furrowing her brows. "i helped you out, miss. but you're taking advantage of my good heart."
"most of my friends are straight, and the only lesbian in my life has a girlfriend already, ava knows them so it wont work" you explain making vi follow up on a story she wasn't really involved at first. "please, if you ever need a lung you can have mine, i'll give you my first born even if you want to-"
"and what do i get? seriously here cause having a girlfriend don't really mix well with girls in campus, you're ruining my sex life also."
"don't you have one person that you'd like to make jealous too?" you plant a seed on her brain that spreads like the black plague on it's peak time "c'mon, maybe it can work out for you too, think about it."
she stays silent for a while cause your words hits the jackpot. vi's mind drifts back to sarah, and she quickly thinks about the benefits of having a fake girlfriend that would make her real ex see that she did, in fact move on already.
"two weeks top, we can break up after" you beg again at her thoughtful look, and you do it so nicely vi's tempted to act reluctant one more time only to have you trying to coax her with another crazy argument "i mean it, and you can say you're the one who dumped me even, don't really care- please vi. two weeks. two weeks and then we say something like we don't match well."
it's weird cause once again she wonders: what the fuck is she doing there in the first place when it's wednesday? right.
"yeah?" you smile already celebrating at the lack of her denial "is that a yes? you'll be my fake girlfriend then?"
fucking powder.
by the next day, violet vanderson regrets being so kind to people she just met, almost a callout cause how did she become friends with you after just one night? you're exchanging numbers and suddenly you're on her phone and it's simple as smoking a joint and laugh in a boring ass party.
two weeks.
she just have to resist two weeks.
it's not like it's torture. not at all. maybe she's just being dramatic for no reason. dating sarah in the past has brought nothing but problems to her, so your help is also needed, vi has business to attend too and she can use a fake girlfriend even when it seems a ridiculous idea at first.
her phone buzzes on top of the desk before she falls asleep in the middle of microbiology and she lazily comes up to read the screen:
it's not like you're not funny to be around. cute even with the attitude and a silly crush on a straight girl that most likely will fall for you in the end — she could use a girlfriend, a fake one so she can spare the drama in her life.
with a sigh, she reads the first texts.
she hides the phone beneath the table to not be rude, biting the latex glove on her hand to get it off and text you comfortably. the taste grosses her out.
she can imagine the annoyed look on your face, the same one you gave her when she joked about not wanting to give you her own number, having to bite her lip as she prevents an smile.
dramatic. she's almost enjoying messing with you even when she should be paying attention, receiving a random poke for her lab partner before muttering a low — sorry!
dina's looking at her with her brows already furrowed, and vi knows how much her lab partner hates when she's not paying attention as their final grade depends on their work as a team, so she don't mind it much when she answers quickly before shoving her phone back in the pocket of her lab coat.
thing is, vi may or may not forgot about it later. you texted at nine in the morning — of course by five she's going to forgot, so when you appear with a radiant smile holding out your bag with what she guessed was full of art supplies or shit like that, vi didn't expect you to be so confident to walk into a practice like you did, nor being teased by her own teammates because yeah: why's a pretty girl seated in the benches waving at her?
too distracting, she warned you about it, but vi has the feeling you are not very good at listening.
you're there twenty minutes earlier and you're not even paying attention to what they're doing. too busy looking into your stuff to be even looking at her having to endure all twenty minutes of pure hell.
"is that your new girlfriend, vi? she cute."
“shut up and leave her alone.”
so of course after that, she’s taking you by the hand despite all the jokes, yanking you outside as she walks away from practice and got back to her motorbike.
“sorry for coming earlier,” you say when she’s helping you put on the helmet. “my class got cancelled and i was bored.”
bored. she thinks about it, because you’re literally walking in a practice full of lesbians and they all notice a pretty girl right away, yet, instead of saying something on that, she looks at you before lowering the face shield on your head and instead mutter once again — “you’re too distracting to come earlier to practice, 'told you about it.”
limits. vi's sure you two need to settle basic limits by the time she's parking on rims — she has to focus harder though when you're pressed against her back, arms securely wrapped around her waist without leaving much space between the two of you. she could feel the tension on each curve, how you loudly spoke to make her follow the speed limits.
so anytime of the day vi would hate coming to rims, but on a thursday noon and with the place already full of people from the university talking loudly, she has nothing to whine about, not when you're grabbing her by the hand, making her walk to the entrance fingers laced.
"do you come here a lot?" she asks curiously, letting you walk in front of her, usually she has a rather sharp opinion on places like that, full of pretentious people that tried too hard to satisfy the others.
"hell no, but they do have good food so i order for takeout" you admit before spotting a booth "sit next to me, sitting in front of each other is boring, 'sides we have to make it believable."
and to be fair with her own self, vi's deep down amazed by how easy you make it look. how unfazed you are for a moment when you grab her hand to walk like you've been around her from ages ago, like you've shared confidence for more time than just mere hours the night before, so it's not really awkward nor strange to her. it's getting natural.
"now that we're here i was wondering if you'd like to discuss some rules" you state before even checking on the menu "i was thinking throughout class, and i kinda believe we should make a plan or something, establish some basics like when are going to meet and shit, i know where ava's going after her classes, what about you and your golden girl? does she have a schedule you know?"
you're wasting no time in jumping into plan after plan already making a calendar up together so you can check on her free times, but vi's hungry as ever when she's looking at the menu instead of listening to you, debating if she should have the cheesecake for dessert or maybe ice cream since it's sunny outside.
"which hamburger did you try already? it was good?" the change of subject makes you stop making plans on your own to check the menu right over your shoulder, pointing out the one with pink bread who looks weird enough to avoid it — "you sure it was good? seems weird to me."
"yes, pay attention, this is important" you reply, looking back to the paper you're using to write down on their supposed rules: a paper tablecloth from the table you reversed to use on the white part. "rules. what do you think?"
"i can't think with empty stomach," vi replies trying to make eye contact with a waitress so she can come by and take their order "and i want to object too, because you said it was going to be easy, and doing this stuff does not seem easy to me."
"please we're organizing, this is not the treaty of versailles" it makes her laugh for a moment, and there it is once again, the same feeling on the party of having a good time even when you're being a pain in the ass. "it's not even that much, we just have to make our plans for the week and establish things we dislike; for example, i'll arrive to your practice in time, and, in your case i'm not ever ridin' your bike again so i can avoid having a heart attack."
vi's too hungry to defend herself from the sudden reluctance to her bike, practice leaves her in need of a nap, so she's looking at you with a clearly unpleased face until one of the waitresses finally comes and takes their order quickly.
"where are we going to spend time together? here?" she asks trying to be helpful as she thinks about more defining points now that she secured food "how many times during the week? i can text you my schedule if you need it, i'm usually free by five thirty during practice days."
you're writing it down on the paper and she can see your messy handwriting as you put down the important.
"do you have a problem with seeing each other everyday? try at least" you propose still looking at the written words for a moment before looking back at her — "an hour tops. not in here but to do random things, things that couples do. ave goes to the mall a lot, also to the library so she can study, if she sees us? i'm putting you in my will vi, swore it on my childhood dog."
"i'll tell you if i can't" vi nods, taking on mental notes as she's too lazy to write like you do "are you going to send me a photo of your notes?"
"yes. what about parties?" the points seems to come on their own as you write again "are we the kind of couple that party together and sneak out for kisses in the middle of the night, or the one that parties on their own because we're all about having private lives."
"party together and sneak out for kisses" vi replies without much thinking "we're dating recently, it's our honeymoon phase. so you're partying with me."
"we're also not falling in love" you state, casual as ever as you write it down — "i'm serious."
"we're not falling in love" she agrees with your words, looking at the food arriving to the other people "that only happens in bad movies."
"good. almost forgot," you also add before the food arrives, "put me as your lockscreen."
"huh?"
"your lockscreen vi, on your phone" you point out to your very own screen "give it to me, i'll put a nice picture, i need one of yours too."
jesus. she didn't have that with sarah — in fact, she always had the same picture that came with the phone by default, a blue gradient she don't bother in changing, yet she's giving you her phone willingly, and you're putting it side to side with yours, looking at your own pictures only to check which one will look better as her background.
it's serious as ever.
you seem to cover every single thing she misses, and by the end of it, vi's stomach roars before the food finally arrives and she's drowning in pleasure, devouring until there's nothing in her plate and you've barely even beginning to have a bite.
"what are you writing?" she enquires, trying to look as she's right next to you.
"you have to eat before seeing me cause you don't know how to eat when you're too hungry."
“you’re always bugging me” she rolls her eyes at the comment — “sure you aren't a bug?”
"very funny violet, now that you look slightly presentable, there's a girl looking at you" you casually state "she's making me nervous too, by the way. on your right, don't be obvious."
she knows who you're talking about before seeing her, cause sarah's gaze burn on her neck as vi, subtle as ever, look from over her shoulder only to confirm what she already knows: that's her ex girlfriend looking — and she knows that look from before too, that question in her expression cause she know sarah's wondering why she's there with a girl on the fucking rims? looking all cozy as ever.
"well ava's not here- what happened?" you're quick to pick up on the weirdness of all, how vi seems to stiffen in the booth, forgetting about her nice fries to instead, cross her arms on top of the table, trying to act unbothered "who is she?"
"that's sarah fortune, my ex girlfriend."
"you're shitting me? that's your ex girlfriend?" vi has to resist the need to give you a bad look before your eyes widen in response "your golden girl? you want to go back with your ex?"
"no please," she scrunches her nose, hating to give too many explanations "i want to make sure she gets i'm much over her, seen publicly with you so she will leave me alone."
"oh," you seem to understand for a moment, and vi wonders how you switched so quickly to insist on plans and rules, to leave them aside in a mere seconds and instead, look interested in her instead — "you have ketchup on your mouth."
the act itself is so simple when your fingers trace the corners of vi's mouth, black nails painted that swiped the red sauce from her skin before you leave a soft kiss in her cheek. one that makes vi gasp since it's so sudden, subtle when you're getting handsy like you did with ava the night before, body language speaking volumes when your legs drape over her's and you don't care about the rest, cause you're reducing your world to vi only and fuck's sake, it makes her oblivious to sarah for a moment, letting you look at her with those very same doe eyes, that horny look on your face you gave her when she was leaving a single kiss on your neck the night before.
"so your ex means trouble, i get it" you say in a low chuckle, cleaning the rest of your lipstick in vi's skin "tell me when it's too much, okay? limits."
what both of you don't really notice is that sarah actually left by the first touch, still resting in your fake girlfriend's side cause vi's warm — like the sun in a sunday morning, comfortable as the pillows on your bed.
it's not a torture, it's not fair to even say it as a joke. vi's just being dramatic, she knows it when she's asking for your weekend plans, already counting you in her own.
"are you going out with me on saturday night?" of course you fucking are.
by friday morning it's impossible not to think about you when you're on her phone every time she unlocks it. long hair, big smile as you look up to the camera, the angle is cute, and it makes vi stare at it during various times of the day, blushing when your name pops up on the screen and she’s forced to see you again.
you’ve been texting a lot since yesterday about important stuff — birthday dates and basic family names so neither will be reduced to misery if asked, but by twenty-seven minutes in, texting shifts in random jokes and casual conversations with the excuse to think about things you can do with her. together.
and vi does not protest cause despite being a fake relationship, she does want to be your friend, so in the end she sees nothing wrong with talking to you like a friend would. she's pretty much stuck with you for more than a week and a half, so she better get used to it if you're going to be glued to her by the hip.
you don't see her on friday despite your plans of seeing her everyday, but vi's there by saturday night, outside your dorm building ready to text you about how annoyed she is by all the time you're taking to leave, but before she could reach her phone you go out using this black skirt that got vi double checking for a moment, forgetting momentarily about her random anger as you greet her and grab her jacket to make her walk as she stands there for a good amount of time.
“c’mon walk, we have work to do ava’s already in your party” you say, dragging her as you leave no room to protest “my tummy hurts but i’m trying to give my best here, hope that sarah’s there too cause i’m going all in.”
lately, vi's been avoiding going out too much, tried to when she craves silence by the night, too boring now when she mainly talks and flirts when feeling adventurous, it’s weird now when she usually wants the solitude of a night where she can listen to her own thoughts, but you’re sipping on your drink, walking by her side as you tell her about a bad experience you went through high school with your best friend drunk-kissing you, and she don’t really care about the loud music nor the people.
it’s fun. she’d said it before, fun as ever when she’s saying hi to friends she haven’t seen since sarah broke up with her, laughing with some members of the hockey team as she has you close by; and deep down vi hopes sarah’s there too — you’re with her and she doubt she’s going to try and talk to her with the way you’re seated on her lap laughing with the rest, notice after so many tries, that she's ready to keep moving on.
“do you play poker or something like that?” ava’s looking at you from across the room every once in a while, and even as you are unaware of it, it's something vi's quick to pick up when she's leaning towards you, talking to you closer than before — “blackjack?”
“no, not really,” you reply as sevika’s mixing up the card deck — “i’m not lucky when it comes to games.”
it’s funny now that you’re pointing it out, ironic as your ass is pressed against her legs and ava’s looking at the interaction through the corner of her eye, cause it seems like it is a game. your skirt rises through your thighs and vi grabs you by the waist, comfortable enough to keep you there while concentrating in the game.
“here, come play with me i’ll teach you” she makes you get even closer, pointing out the cards silently as she explains you the basics of the game. and it seems like a secret, even you are eating it up as you cannot really concentrate in all the things she's saying. “it’s not really that hard, isn’t?”
“so if my cards add up and i’m over twenty one, you lose fictional money?” you asks to her contentment “it’s all you have to do? stay under or in the number twenty one?”
“well mostly bug, you got the basics. the important thing is getting a number higher than sevika,” she whispers in your ear. “you get that, and i’ll have her doing my laundry for the week.”
is it the drink that makes you bolder? that slowly blurry the lines of a fake relationship? you're aware ava's looking now, of the warmth of vi's hands against your skin before you're concentrating to play along her game, staring at the two cards in the table, fifteen.
"do you think it's safe to ask for another card?" vi seems pleased to get you understand the game, pointing to sevika's cards at the other side of the table — eighteen.
"we have to do so, she has a bigger number."
she uses two fingers to tap on the table twice as a way of saying she wants another card, and your breathing hitches when you see the number five being added to her cards: twenty.
exhaling from the tobacco hanging on her lips, sevika's next card is a seven, too far from the original twenty one as she seems annoyed by it, quickly suggesting another round.
"another?" vi turns to asks you like the fate it's really in your decisions, and you pretend to think about it for a second, nodding after— "yeah go on."
when it's too much? the music's loud, the drinks are nice and you've been craving that too long, the warmth of somebody else. it's all a damn whirlwind as vi's looking at you, expectant from an answer as you look at her cards, nineteen. against sevika's twelve, you shake your head in denial.
"too dangerous, stay there" you reply, and honestly its basic math when sevika becomes greedy and takes too many cards from the deck and she pulls a twenty two.
vi wins a lot more times after that. so much she's getting excited now that she's on a streak and people around start paying attention to the little game they put up in a dirty table, ava's looking, the rest is looking: it's just a rush of the adrenaline, one that mixes you up entirely, cause after being called her lucky charm, you're looking her and vi knows — knows that look already.
"permission to kiss you," it does not need much wording than that, but it makes vi's head spin when it catches her off guard, her usual rough demeanor faltering for a moment cause she's smiling right against your lips for a second and it's all the invitation needed.
ava. ava fucking ava's gaze burns in the back of your neck, but vi does not care about it when her mouth parts in a devastating kiss, rough and demanding as her fingers tightens against your jaw and she's angling you to a better and more comfortable position, tongue colliding against yours in a kiss you're quick to follow, a competition maybe as you push against her mouth and the game seems to go on without the two of you giving in.
fake girlfriends kiss, right? they have to. she has to follow the plot, stick to the plan. it helps you're on her lap cause her hand's are on your waist and she's pulling you closer, luring you to rest on top of her.
and by the time you're pulling out, your lips are swollen and vi's drinking from your beer now, joining the game once again like she didn't just kissed you dumb in the middle of a party full of people who knows her, like that wasn't the hottest thing you've ever experience.
it makes your hands sweaty, ava's blushing and vi has to pretend, concentrated in the taste of cold beer in her mouth, that she cares about winning the game as sevika's already drunk, betting on her metal arm.
fake girlfriends kiss, right?
right.
it haunts her after.
it plagues her mind when she already decided on the excuse she’s going to say after her acts on saturday: she was following an act, despite her shields you don't text until tuesday and you've been texting her so much before that it's weird now not to receive a text, anything at all.
she knows it may be lot anyway cause people started to talk about it — the sudden relationship of the rising star of hockey, the low profile girl that seems to get her crazy enough to kiss her publicly, and it's what she wanted anyway, what she agreed on.
sarah's away, your straight friend must be turned on as ever, not even a week and the plan is working, surprisingly enough. everything's working despite the strange sensation on the pit of her stomach.
she can't even talk it with her friends anyway: what would she say? that she accepted to be your fake girlfriend cause you needed an extra help getting your straight girl? that she's panicking cause she kissed you in a middle of a blackjack game? sounds like a joke.
she cannot avoid you either way, so by four she’s hidden in her grey hoodie, pushing the library door only to find you already working on your own.
"are you drawing uh-bones?" vi curiosity peaks when she watches over your shoulder what are you so invested in drawing "that's pretty accurate."
"why didn't you bring your laptop?" you question, furrowing your brows together in an inquisitorial way. "we're exchanging favors, i'm not drawing bones for good will."
"my laptop?"
"you forgot" you roll your eyes as she's sitting in front of you "we talked about it on saturday vi, about helping you out with this class where you need to draw, you're doing my essays of art history in return?”
and vi doesn't really remember when she told you about it, but she knows what you mean because she's falling behind on anatomy where she needs to draw parts of the body each week to learn them by memory, and she sucks at it to the point she's ashamed on presenting hard, humble work and pass it with the lowest score out of pity: when did she told you about that?
it's random because she don't really admit when she's struggling with a class like — ever. almost a secret she wishes to keep to herself 'cause she don't want people finding out about her weakest links.
"you remember about walking me home right?" it was just slightly blurry, pursing her lips together as she becomes aware of the lack of memories close to the end of the party "i'm offended, you forgot about the most important part cause you're doing my history tasks."
her drunk self it's intelligent cause your drawings are pretty good to the point she stares at them to a moment before adding — "in that case, you need to make your draw ugly, cause if it’s too good it won't be believable."
“i’m doing what i can” you roll your eyes as you pause your working “it’s our academic deal still going? kind of need the essays.”
“yeah, it’s on” and quite frankly, it’s a help she much needed when she’s looking at your notes to go and see what the essay must be about.
“it’s for friday, you told me this is for thursday- or your drunk self sabotages you?” vi shows you her middle finger before she can spot the smile on your lips, you're teasing her — “thursday okay. how it's going on with sarah by the way? is she giving you any trouble at all?"
"no, it seems she get the message" vi admits thoughtful. "people is talking about us, so i don't think she'll come close anyway. she's got a big ego."
"yeah well, everyone's calling me your girl" you point out, scrunching your nose at the nickname, and vi blushes at the news "so i bet she heard about it already too."
"and how's everything going with ava?"
"she's weird" you state “you think our kiss scared her? haven’t talked to her since the party, we talked a lot when i came home that night.”
vi chokes for a second before shaking her head, the kiss, you say it so normally — “uh, no. no i don’t think so- maybe she’s falling in love with you.”
“be for real violet, do you hate me?” you dramatically say as she steals a pencil from your case and you gave her a bad look — “there’s tension i think, that or i’m being delusional, there’s no in between.”
“is she here or what?”
“she’ll be in like thirty minutes, wanted to be subtle” business, a fake relationship is pure business. vi needs to remind herself the very same when she’s gathering the books she’ll need to start out on renaissance art she don't know a thing about, lazily reading titles as she curses on her own past self, knowing she hates doing essays or anything that involves writing a decent paragraph.
vi’s mind however works on its own when she's looking at your lips again, sitting in front of you before you can say something about being close cause she's already counting on the days before her death.
you don't want to talk about it, she don't want to do it either, so instead, vi let you dive her in an ocean of comfortable silence when she's working with most of your materials, highlighting important information fighting the need to close her eyes.
"resist don't fall asleep," she has no choice to comply when your feet rubs on hers beneath the table, an action that does not go unnoticed when ava's sitting in the table right next to the two of you: that’s thirty minutes already? how? "you okay there? i know art history's like taking a stab on the guts."
your caress from under the table don't really ceases when you talk, and vi's thankful of not choosing the seat next to you as it would've make her bewildered already.
"it's good to know at least you know how to make your deals" she praises, leaving the pencil against the table as she closes the book in front of her — "my brain is fried, i need to work on a laptop. can i borrow yours?"
she should get a badge, a medal or something like it that acknowledges her hard work in enduring the stupidity of having a fake relationship when your hand reaches out to her arm on top of the table to trace invisible patterns as you look up to her.
"i'll bring it tomorrow, maybe this time we could go to a cafe near here, the library can be sleep-indulgent" you suggest, "or are you going to work on the essay on your own?"
"tomorrow is fine, i don't have practice" she replies, and as much as she don't want to bring it up, she'd like to talk about your absence, about the kiss and the physical limits of your fake relationship, but she lets you push her around, demanding more touches as she cannot say no, not when your skin is soft against her and she has to keep this story of being your girlfriend letter by letter.
"text me when you're done" you say before showing her the draws you made for her anatomy classes already— "i'll have the rest for tomorrow, and you can fill me up on the next ones that come for the next week."
she brought this on herself.
you're everywhere.
in her phone when she has to unlock it, her messages every hour, her teammates ask for you, even fucking dina knew and that was a lot since she don't follow much on the uni gossip lately.
everywhere until you're all.
vi's perfectly capable of being an adult and not hold feelings for you no matter how difficult it ends up being. mainly because she refuses to be a cliche of any sort so she keeps most of her feelings on check, even when the night comes and she finds herself thinking about that saturday-night-kiss, the touches in a library, the sarcasm in your playful banters like a routine now after the days pass on by.
the world keeps on going, the earth keep it's course spinning, the moon is up in the sky and vi's trapped in the same thoughts after ten o'clock when the silence is loud, and you stop responding to her texts because you fall asleep faster than anyone she has ever seen in her life: how does she fight becoming a damn cliché when she's so near you all the time?
your activities are endless and she keeps up with every single one of them, going to the cinema cause ava got a date there, late goings to your apartment like your stablished girlfriend cause ava’s crashing and watching movies in her room, dragged her to the mall claiming you needed help to pick out some outfits as a friend more than a fake girlfriend, even inviting her to smoke from your weed now as you've shared a lot of time together by the end of the week.
and it's clear vi's on a car with no brakes at all cause she's doing important things during the day — so why does she stop in the middle of nowhere cause something little reminded her of you? something she keeps to herself like a secret and don't comment on it with no one else, abby likes to makes fun of her romantic fool behavior so she keeps it to herself.
that's how the coach's saying to her now, #08, VANDERSON: romantic fool.
friends, when was the last time she had a friendship like you? never.
she has never experienced a relation like that with nobody she knew from before. she don't really crave kissing on her friends, she don't struggle to keep the hands to herself. it makes sense for a short period of two weeks, and it's good. it's what she wanted.
after the week left? that's trouble for vi from the future.
she's trapped in your essays even when she hates to do them every single minute of the hour, yet you're drawing on her side while you randomly talk sometimes and you're not even drawing for her anatomy class now, you're just there drawing on things you like on your little sketchbook while she's invested in getting you a good grade and make sense of what she's writing.
it's a routine now. she wants it to be a routine. her grades on anatomy are insanely good by the same week and it's weirder than ever cause you talk with your advances with ava and she's reminded of the fakeness of it all, how you're after another girl and she's once again left with questionable choices.
the thing is, vi can still feel the ghost of your kiss on her lips, the tenderness of it. you taste like beer and she begs to the god the time for that moment where everything stopped so she could feel the soft taste of your mouth again, dissolve beneath you like she did before, experience it all over again until her she's able to control that aching feeling on her chest of having you seated on a skirt right over her legs.
and she cannot decide if the lack of kissing is actually a good thing or a pain in the chest cause while it keeps her mind sane, her body yearns for a different kind of contact now she's not able to ever satisfy, not without risking mixing it all up and make it even more complicated.
she has to learn how to fake it more cause she's fucking awful at it.
so it's hard. hard as ever when she spends time with you for the sake of it, just cause you mentioned coffee and she would follow you wherever you'd say without hesitation — even the fucking rims.
that's why she's there anyway, before you arrive since you seem to be late. she's used to wait for you now, you're slightly bad at estimating your time.
"what happened? why are you so happy?"
"ava, she kissed a girl yesterday, can you believe it?"
"she did?"
"i know right? fun-fucking-tastic."
now. you're all fun when you're sitting next to her, spilling details about last night when ava's knocking on your door and slipping inside your bed to talk about how she's doubting her own feelings lately; a lame excuse to be close to you as you keep going about sleeping next to her, the feeling of having her close.
no she's not jealous. she's never actually jealous of anyone, but it's the slap on her face, a reminder of reality she needed for the day. fake girlfriend.
you're her fake girlfriend.
"it seems you did brainwashed her entirely, congrats" she jokes with you, because vi's not like that, because just like when you talked to her the very first time — she keeps believing you're pretty, and she still hopes you do get the girl you want in the end, the curly redhead or whatever.
"told you i was playing my cards right" she recognize that cheeky smile as you place an small cup in front of her — "black, no sugar" you point out already knowing her order now after so many times of getting it wrong or trying to make her try sweet, weird things on the menu, "my treat. you deserve it."
"close to kiss your straight girlfriend and all i get is black coffee?" violet teases, taking a sip of the still too-hot coffee "i'm hurt i'm not worth even a little piece of cake, bug. i saw the red velvet one."
"you still up for tomorrow?" you ask sipping on your own drink content as ever, like it is indeed the best thing you have ever tried — "i'll make you the best pasta i promise, so good you'll be begging for my recipe and i wont be able to share it you know? since it's a family secret."
"wouldn't dare to miss it."
"good. my place" you remind her before checking on your phone. "ava's going to a hike with some friends until tuesday, so we'll have the place alone."
"i won't forget, weirdo."
"i know you won't" and before she can say something you're standing, leaning down to hug her affectionate as usual — "you're like, the best fake girlfriend to ever exist. you never forget."
maybe it's a game, maybe not, but she cant ignore how her skin burns now beneath your kiss. vi's face turns red at the sudden intrusion and she can still feel the almost noticeable pressure from your lips against her cheek in a quick gentle goodbye-kiss, fingers against her face before pulling away.
"don't be late" you say now at a safe distance, waving your hand "see ya' tomorrow, text you later!"
and vi's torn cause she does want to go to your apartment that monday night, but she knows, heart-level-fucking-knows, she won't be able to ignore it all forever.
it's fair to say violet would be happy just to reach the end of it in one piece.
"do you like it? be honest" you ask staring at her only to see her physical reaction to your so-called best pasta in the world, and vi shakes her head in approval as the tomato sauce seems to add the perfect taste of it — "is that a yes? please elaborate."
"it's really good" she says, but in reality, she's too distracted by the way you cornered her out of nowhere as she arrive, making her try your food from a metal spoon you hold close to her mouth "you've been cooking all this time?"
"went to the market place, it's better with fresh ingredients" you explain as she marvels at the amazing smell in the kitchen as she's there not even five minutes ago "give me your rating."
"four and a half stars out of five," she answers "i like that you put a lot of spices on it. makes it smells really good and it adds to the flavor. i dig it."
"four? are you kidding me?" you take her opinion seriously, and vi cannot help but smile at your reaction “what’s wrong with it? what’s missing?”
“salt, maybe some rosemary” she suggest, making you think before reaching out to the cabinets where you keep species “but it’s good bug, i liked it a lot.”
“try again” no that's not an act. there's no one around. ava's not near, there's no one in the apartment, not a person close by to have you pulling up an act. no, that's you all over. that's you being close to her willingly as you take the spoon to dip it in the casserole slowly stirring under the fire, placing it close to her lips.
vi parts them to try the pasta once again, the perfect amount of salt and rosemary added now to the mix — “five stars, you happy now?”
“yeah i am” you reply cocky “shit. your shirt, it got stained” you use the same spoon to pick up on the sauce that fall into the cream-white fabric, but the stain’s already there, red and gigantic.
vi don’t really mind, but you’re apologizing and suggesting her to take one of your shirts instead and she cannot resist the idea of owning something you have, even borrowed, so she's dragging her shoes to your room, slower than ever cause she's curious in seeing what it is like, the clean spaces, the posters and the vinyls she spend a good time looking at before searching between your shirts.
and she’s there standing six minutes after using that paramore shirt you love, holding out a bag of weed with an almost shy smile cause now it's different, now she lacks of the motives to touch you freely like she does outside, pull you closer like she's used to.
"you brought weed?" you ask when you pay attention to her, checking the plates before taking both of them to the small table close to the sofa.
"it's an special occasion" vi replies 'cause it's true, on wednesday two weeks will pass and the deal will be officially over now and she's sure you cooking pasta means that very same — the fake break-up.
"we can't smoke inside."
"then outside, clinging to the window. you cannot say no to me."
"the balcony" you suggest before pointing out to the food — "but we eat first, it's not going to be that good if we leave now, it's a rule."
her stomach roars so she sits in the couch with nothing to say, leaving the weed in the table. the smell makes her mouth water cause it's so good it deserves to have all five stars, she's not really used to have artisanal pasta but it's good enough to want more, so much she believes in your words now when you said it's the best pasta in the world.
pathetic as ever cause she'd eat anything you cook for her no questions ask and rate it four and a half star just to piss you off.
"amazing, this is restaurant level pasta bug" vi praises, and it makes her breathing stop for a moment when she notices the nervousness in your actions soon after, the sweat in your hands when she handled you the weed to let you roll the joint after you eat.
"glad you like it" you say to her words "my family owns a pasta restaurant so we take it very seriously."
"that's why, so you're like a pasta prodigy or something-"
"oh shut up. you really are so annoying."
a piece of her dies on your couch that night, using her hand as a barrier so she's close to you with the excuse she's preventing the weed to fall on any sudden movement, and you're not saying anything when you're breathing close to her hands and your tongue darts out to lick the paper.
easy, everything you do you make it look so easy. talent after talent you seem to do everything right and it's such a turn on it's fucking insane. vi follows you outside and she chuckles when she notices the small balcony you talked about, cause she thought it would be a nice, comfortable place rather than a small spot that makes you stand close as ever when your chest is pressed against hers and you're smiling guilty as ever.
"we can smoke downstairs if you like" the only thing preventing her from falling are the thick, metal railings and it could trigger anyone's vertigo, but she focus on you instead of the three floors that separated her from the ground, being so close has all the ingredients to make anyone nervous, a thing she don't mind at all cause it's just what she needs, have you irrevocably close "don't want you dying all sudden violet. it's safer."
"we're fine here, i got you" vi replies, and her hand holds the railing behind you, keeping you safe too as you light up the joint. no, she don't mind being that close, and you don't either, comfortable as ever when you're smoking and the moon hits the back of your head so she has this image of you she wants to hold by heart.
it's on her memories, rooted in her chest now in stone cause the white cast glows against your hair and its like a vision there in the middle of the night. red, glassy eyes you stare at her for a moment with nothing to say, and she can feel the burn of your gaze in her skin, digging holes whenever you look as if you're trying to trespass her very being as she stares at you.
it's a new look, a look violet have never had the pleasure to experience before, one she's sure it's reserved for someone else — nonetheless you're there with her, in an small balcony smoking from her weed, so close she can see the moles on your skin now.
"who you bought that from?" you ask, alone now even the silence feels different, sharper and thicker than ever — "seems really good quality."
"it is," in reality, vi spend a good amount of money cause she wants to surprise you with something nice too, not a gift but a memory you can hold on to like a hidden treasure, and there in the small place with the moon radiating its ethereal glow, the weed leaves that taste of raspberry in her mouth and you're looking so beautiful in a shirt stained with flour and a big hoodie, zipping it all the way up to the middle trying to protect yourself from the cold currents of wind, it's already an outer world experience — "a friend from a friend- it's a long story, but if you want to i can get some for you."
vi would like to say it's the weather the one who's giving her the chills, but the way you look at her makes every hair on her body stand on its own and she becomes a victim of the electricity, of the tension that wraps the air around you and her. you're passing her the joint, smoking from it as she holds it between two fingers, and she's reminded once again of the kiss you've shared with her not so long ago, the need to angle your face again to make it fit perfectly against her own.
her brain is melting away slowly.
"are you going to keep being my friend after this, bug?" the question lingers in the air and she can see how you stop breathing for a second, the slight movement of your brows from up close as you seem to think about it, makes her hate the silence.
"do you want to be my friend?" there's a hint of wonder in your voice, and vi would take anything you offer, anything at all at this point so unsure already when she knows your heart belongs to someone else, someone she don't want to replace or steal you from "after bugging you all this time?"
"that was the deal at first, i do want to be your friend" the admission leaves you breathless, cause she's so forward with it, eyes piercing yours like she's trying to get inside your brain and hear your very own thoughts — "i'll keep doing your history essays even if you want to. happy to help."
it's pitiful cause vi has reached the level where she'd do something she hates dearly to keep you close, and when her words make you laugh, her heart stops in her chest for a whole minute, blue eyes following the movements of your lips as you shake your head.
"i'll help you out with anatomy, i don't mind. you don't need to do my essays, it's just an excuse to hang out with you."
her knees fail for a second, and her knuckles turn white from the force she's using to grip the railing behind you, believing she's the one who's going to end up dizzy enough to slip and fall, leaning against you as your arms surround her tightly, worried already.
"let's go down" you insist, but how does she explain it? how does vi explain the need to have you close? she needs the excuse, the pretense of being in an small space to have you close without giving away how very into you she really is "i'm serious vi."
"you're growing soft on me or what? i'm okay, my leg hurt from training, made a bad movement" you buy the excuse, still holding onto her by one arm now, finger hooked in her belt as a way to keep her secured of any random movement "you're going to keep your hand there?"
"yes, i am if your leg's being weird" you state, and vi cannot act pissed at the feel of your hand in her pants, the mere thought already making her head spin — "don't act like i'm dramatic, we've been in way more intimate situations and i'm making sure your feet stay there in the ground."
so she's leaning into you, making no movement to push you away: how could she ever choose to smoke with you downstairs when a tiny balcony is all that she needs to have you like that for twenty minutes? even when she's blushing at your blunt words, she don't care to hide it from your gaze already aware of the red that creeps upon her neck into your shirt.
"what are you thinking about?" vi asks trying to be casual about it "is the weed that good?"
"when's your next hockey match?" you reply — "next thursday?"
"yeah, by seven" she don't seem to understand it at first before you suddenly add: "do you want to break up next week instead of wednesday? i dunno, its not fair before the game don't want to make us look bad."
is it so evident you're trying to gain more days with her? is violet imaging it all?
"yes," she would take more weeks if you offered them, more dates in coffees, bad movies in cinemas, random story times in packed frat parties "yeah i think it's a good idea."
"good," you seem almost relieved by it, and she wonders why exactly when she's so evident when it comes to you, under your spell every single time you say something. "we'll talk which day next week, no rush."
"why are you surprised by it?" vi can't help but comment on it, scanning your face as she blurts out the words without much thinking "you know i'd do anything you say."
you're always all over, always too close and she don't mind it at all.
vi dies again a second time there, suffering from these little deaths in the worst moments as the silence fills the air again and you're looking at her with that eyes she knows so damn well already it makes her stomach flutter at the realization.
"what are you doing?"
"nothing" you do so little to hide it, the constant pull on your finger tugging on her belt, the natural light colliding against your skin. you do no effort in look somewhere else, drinking in the details of vi's face cause you already know it. too many cheek kisses, to many caresses under the premise it's an act "i'm doing nothing."
"why are you looking at me like that, huh?"
"i'm looking at you like i always do."
"there's no one around to pretend with" you don't really need a reminder as vi looks around trying to search for some other person looking "no, bug. this is you on your own so please tell me — is this how you usually look at all your friends?" her question lingers in the air for a second, and it hits you when she speaks again with a devastating truth, "like you want them to be a part of you?"
"you're a friend" you stumble in your own words, and even when the joint has already turned off, she doesn't pay attention to it as your words reach her racing heart "i don't- you know i don't look at them like that."
"then please care to tell me how you look at them" she insists "cause that look right there is a look you give when you've dreamed about someone, bug."
and your skin feels hot, but you're good to ignore it even when vi's pulling you closer, finally erasing the limits to fade into you instead, arms wrap around your waist with a gentleness that scares.
"tell me to stop" she cannot longer resist it by then, the car crashes in her head and there's nowhere to escape as she's trapped there in the pilot seat. it's monday and she cannot fight the need to say it, to taste the sweetness on your lips once again, the pliant curves of your body, the need to be one with you, blend into a mix — "please tell me that i'm a creep. that you don't want me around anymore after this."
"no," you're quick to shake your head as vi's hand slide down the side of your neck, thumb brushing over the pounding skin of your pulse point and it's so sudden by then, the way her breathing hoovers against your flesh leaving a single kiss on the crook of your neck — she's been there before, faking a kiss that was now very much real ones "no don't stop, please."
to hell with it. she's all fucking in.
"i see your face everywhere you know that? i hear your laugh in every quiet moment, smell your shampoo in my sleep" fuck the weed, fuck the joint and fuck the rest of the world when the words slip from her mouth as she works her way in sloppy, wet kisses through the expanses of your neck, going up to your jaw "i think about you all the damn time, in the middle of class, when i'm training, when I'm tryin' to fucking sleep."
"you haunt me," it's a whispered confession vi needs to get out of her chest as her breathing mingles with yours in a warm mix — "in all glory. i wake up and i'm aching already because my skin’s too tight for my body. and i know... i know it's because of you."
“i’m sorry,” you say in a low voice, apologizing even when it's not your fault at all, makes her want to tear her own skin apart “i’m sorry vi, it’s not my intention to make you ache.”
“this on me, bug” she reassures you “i’m the one who’s been losing my damn mind over you.”
she wants the moment to last. vi relishes in the privacy of it, the look in your face when her kisses leave saliva in your neck, how your skin reacts to her touch now knowing it's real and on her side, willingly.
"i don't mind- i don't mind it at all, you see?" she asks, betrayed by the need on her tone, how her words lace up with a hunger you can recognize "you see what you're doing to me? how affected you got me?"
it's you this time, like you're settling the score even as you kiss her. and it's real. real than ever she believes, real as you are there on her lips, fingers tight against the waistband of her pants cause you want her closer, closer than fucking ever.
and it's messy but vi loves it. your kiss it's all teeth and tongue, desperation, need. it's your saliva all over, the taste of the joint in your lips she's quick to pick and it's just as soft, just as inviting as that saturday night she holds in her heart.
the thought is stuck there with her for a while.
vi finds out she did die a third time that night, and that she would gladly do it again cause when you ask for more kisses she bends like a willow, and it's the closer she's been to listening to heaven.
it's very safe to say violet vanderson has officially stopped fighting against the cliché this season.
you don't text the next day.
you don't text on wednesday either, and vi's sure by you're ignoring her by thursday already overthinking about being so intense with all this liking thing that was getting out of her hands. what she don't know, is how you really are spiraling into your own madness by the course of the week.
it was a pretty simple job at first: get ava. you put effort on it since you really like her, her sense of humor, her way of being — you really are into your roommate, been living with her what? six months already? she's easy to talk to, so pretty it hurts, and you surely have a list of things you love about her.
why it's so confusing then? if your feelings were se clear, so profound. it wasn't a difficult task whatsoever, and violet does an incredible job pretending you're the last glass of water in the dessert: why is so impossible now? making up excuses so your fake break-up don't come up until next week.
this whole thing was ridiculous, starting out for thinking pretending was going to be a good idea cause you get used to it, to the tattoo on her cheek, the foreign warmth of her fingers brushing against your skin, her kisses. it’s getting in your head now so by monday night, your last string of coherence jumps out of the balcony to end up asking for more kisses you crave then like no one else will.
it's a need, a feverish need cause your lips are sore by the end of the night, and vi's reluctant when pulling away. you want more yet it's not good, not possibly good cause this whole thing started out for someone else and you're unsure — do you really like ava now?
everything fall on it's own, cause by thursday night your roommate’s knocking on your door in the of middle the night saying she wants to see a movie, bringing up her laptop to place it between the two of you like a barrier, one ava's good to surpass when she's leaning to rest her head against your shoulder.
it's meaningless at first, you're concentrated on watching so you're unaware of ava's tactics to distract you.
"how it's everything going with the i-like-girls subject?" you ask at the lack of interest in the film — "any other revelation from the sky?"
"not really" she says, and the talking seems to make her confident all sudden when she's resting her head in your legs now and you have a good view of her in an oversized shirt you've seen as a pajama before "not any advance, i have interest in some particular girl now."
"oh. makes sense."
you don't know how to explain how everything shifted all sudden, but it's what you wanted right? what you plot from the beginning as ava's pulling her laptop to the side only to kiss you comfortably: it's what you've been craving for months, the soft touch of her hands slipping beneath your shirt, the breathy moans she gives against your mouth when you're gripping on her thigh.
so why the fuck does it not feel as rewarding as it should? you're kissing on fucking violet three nights ago and you only know her by two weeks now, but your stomach twist in knots at the touch, the intimacy of it — but with ava? the girl you've been talking to your friends about for like three months now? not a damn thing and it’s so unfair.
you kiss her again and she's a damn mess. she tastes like bubblegum and it's too sweet for moment but you force yourself to it. pull yourself together as ava's straddling your lap now and you can already smell her arousal in the air, the way she grinds in your leg seeking for friction.
get it fucking together: please.
you should love it too. drown in her, keep ava in your bed like you've thought about multiple times, but despite all your efforts to want her, you find yourself pushing your roommate away, grabbing her shoulder to gently peel her off your body to put some reasonable distance between the two of you.
"hold on," you say catching on your breath, and she seems struck for a moment trying to understand what's going on — "i can't do this."
"did i do something wrong?"
"no, not at all you're perfect" you admit shaking your head, and she's sitting now in bed, fixing how high her shirt was, aware of your rejection "it's me, ave. i'm really sorry."
"it's my fault- you have a girlfriend" you don't bother to clear up the truth cause you want ava to believe that. in fact. you want everyone to keep believing that "i should go-"
there's not a way to not make it awkward cause you just tossed months of crushing on a girl to the trash because of a stupid feeling you don't know how to control. you're realizing it an hour or so after being left alone in your room, door closed as you sigh in defeat: you need to see violet again.
so fuck texting, absolutely fuck calling.
you’re getting dressed in the middle of the night as you check on your phone, and you don't seem to care about how it's past midnight when your jumping on to buckle on your black jeans, hiding in a big hoodie that covers you from the autumn air.
no.
you hold your phone and your keys before heading out, not bothering to let your roommate know due to obvious events, that you're leaving to spend the night somewhere else; and the cold of the night does not bother you, instead, it's refreshing as your feet follow the path to her place on it's own trying to distract yourself from thinking, regret it.
it’s not very clear on why you carry your sketchbook and the shirt she stained on monday night now fresh from the laundry with you, the need to give an excuse maybe? hell. you should be kissing ava.
even when you avoid it, it's all about vi in the end.
it makes you want to punch yourself when you end up running cause you can’t wait, can’t possibly wait for it any longer after avoiding her texts like they’re poison.
"what are you doing here?" vi asks when you knock on the door too many times, making her grumpy as she lazily stands to open.
"your shirt. i came to bring your shirt."
"it's one in the morning, and you only came for a shirt?" she’s leaning against the doorframe, not believing it for a second as she holds the shirt in her hand "what's that?" — "your sketchbook?"
"yeah" now, in front of her you start to chicken out a little. her eyes look at the black book in your hands as you, once again, regret appearing out of nowhere so late in the night, the adrenaline seemingly washing away by the seconds "were you sleeping?"
"bug," her tone is tired almost, shaking her head before speaking again "you’ve been ignoring me since we kissed on monday, and you're here because of a shirt? tell me the truth. stop avoiding it."
you cannot hide it.
but you try to make up another excuse either way, pathetic when the seconds pass and you don’t come up with anything but silence — “i’m sorry,” you say, and you hate it cause you’ve been apologizing a lot for the night already.
“what’s on your mind?” vi’s crossing her arms against her chest, demanding an answer “tell me. why are you really here so late?”
"i don't know what else to do, i needed to see you" you're under the spotlight for a second, but the words come out before you can think about what you're saying so out of nowhere "the shirt's an excuse, my sketchbook too, i just wanted to see you."
"did the kiss scare you off?"
"yes. it fucked me up right in the brain" you let her know, and when you see the slight smile on her lips — almost a gesture vi tries to avoid, your heart seems to keep on it's turbulent ride with no return "did it too well 'cause you're all that i care about lately. you're my first thought in the morning and my deepest agony in the nights, and you've done it, i don't how. i don't care, but you've ruined all my plans."
the honesty catches vi off guard, her brows furrowing together for a second as she's aware of the strain in your voice, how this has come to affect you as much as she's affected.
"i don't care about ava no longer, you ruined her for me" it's almost like you're mad at yourself at it, shaking your head as you still blurt out your problems outside her doorframe "i don't give a shit 'cause i'm making up excuses to keep being your fake girlfriend. motives to keep you close. but you go there so openly kissing me when no one's looking and sweet fuck do you too understand, how there's no one like you?-"
vi doesn't let you finish when just like you did in her balcony, she hooks her finger on the waistband of your jeans now, using an small amount of force to pull you forward until she can close the door beneath you and finally corner you against the thick wooden door.
unlike ava, everything's slow. her hands wraps around your waist and you can feel it in her skin, in the tight embrace she keeps you in as her face hides in the curve of your neck she knows by memory. it would be so easy to fake you're not consumed by her, put some distance and never see vi again, but she's kissing on your skin again like it happened on monday, and whatever you wanted to say dies in your throat, moving your head to the side to give more space to her hungry touch.
"i'd ruin ava for you again," vi admits, proud of her own actions "you're better off with me anyway."
after so many kisses her teeth finds the right spot to bite and make you shiver, and she holds you still, right against the door and leaving no room to move without her noticing — broad figure towers over you and you close your eyes at the pressure of her mouth in your neck, the slight pain that comes with it that makes you moan at the contact.
"i'm trying to talk to you," you try to say, and she hums like she's giving you the reason "vi- don't be mean, listen to me."
"i am mean and i don't listen" she agrees with you, like somehow it will solve everything as she's too busy leaving soft kisses on your cheek before her mouth barely touch the corner of your lips.
her breathing’s warm, her touch almost reverent as vi’s hands finds their way beneath your hoodie and she's pushing on the lower part of your back to have you closer, until she’s intoxicated in you.
"i’m paying attention, bug" she says, taking a minute to look at you even at the lack of lights on her dorm room "keep telling me about how i ruined it all, how you're crazy about me- i'm listening."
"i was with her just now- you don't care?"
"no, i don't" vi shakes her head not even amused, and her breathing mixes up with yours as she's invading your space without an invitation "i don't care if you were. you are here now. you are here with me."
so that's how it starts, like everything's on fire and it slowly burns to ashes in your mind.
she knows the grounds of your body like it's holy terrain, too many hugs, too many times with you seated on her lap, gentle touches vi hold by memory until she's free to touch now without retaliation, when her hands are finally roaming around to grab you by the ass and squeeze it as she muffles any complaint against the hollow of her mouth.
and it's a kiss she needs to repeat multiple times more, one that steals the air from her lungs as your hand pulls on the strands of her cherry hair, parting your lips cause it's a kiss you want to carry under your skin, like a stamp on your brain. she deepens it like her life much depends on it, and her tongue — warm and playful, pushes against yours at it discovers once again the place she has experienced before.
there's nothing else to say: you're there now. you picked her.
despite all your efforts on fake dating, of being already whispering for another person in the beginning: you choose violet.
"what's in the sketchbook?" vi asks, fingers are warm against your skin, and the hoodie you took to protect yourself from the cold is no longer necessary when it now lays on the floor. vi's tank top is quick to follow, and you can't help but stare at her for a good moment, the heartbeats on your chest devastating as usual.
it's intimate. you've had sex before, pretty girls that stole your breath even but that's a whole different level, you've never experience that feeling in your chest, that need in your hands when they touch bare skin and you're greeted with a crave that goes far beyond sex and the act of it.
"drawings. drawings of you from when we studied together."
shattering. she's gentle cause vi wants to savor it: what's the point in the rush? she's taking her time in touching, in pulling your shirt upwards little by little. she kisses you until your lips are puffy and you are clouded by a haze of lust as you try to mark the skin of her chest, yet it's a fight, cause she's the one who wants to taste you first, the one who wishes to blow your mind before anything.
vi didn't plan any of it — in all reality, she tried to fight it as much as she could, but you're letting her walk you down to her messy bed, wrinkled sheets still holding on her body heat when you're resting against them and she lets you win. vi's placing herself between your legs and the space is small, but once again small spaces are unexpectedly good cause she has no other option but to be all over you, helping you get off your pants as they are tossed close to your hoodie.
"touch you-" she struggles to ask "can i touch you?"
"please," it's a dangerous feeling what installs in vi’s chest. once again, she's utterly affected by the color of your eyes, how they take her to a brief journey to the moon, the plea in your tone that makes her forget about the lack of messages the last two days, how you suddenly distanced yourself because you were scared. "stop asking and please just touch me already."
it makes her feel desired when her fingers touch you from over the underwear and you're already wet, the fabric clinging to your lips already soaked and ready for her, it makes vi breathe out heavily as she's aware of how debouched she can get you by some kisses, words.
you're her favorite nightmare, cause she has dreamed about that very moment before but it does not come near by how devastating you really are. a force of nature as vi's making your underwear to the side, so sensitive when she's just using a couple of fingers to spread you open, have a good sight of your pussy as she fights the idea to go down on you already.
her mouth waters as you shiver, unable to hold the reaction in as she seems to be lost in the soft texture of soaked pussy. she rubs against your clit slow at first like she's letting you get used to her touch first before she's taunting your entrance with a couple of digits.
"you're really tight huh?" she asks when her fingers begin to push just slightly, making your breathing get stuck in your throat as you whine at the intrusion — "there bug, breathe. can't finger-fuck you like this. let yourself feel good, soak your pretty panties for me.”
“gods- vi” you moan, and the sound itself is so hot she stares at you for a minute “i can take your fingers ah- i can.”
“i know princess, i know you can” she smiles at your need to please, to do and be reminded how good you’re doing “let your greedy hole relax for me so i can fill it out f’you, you feel so warm already.”
it’s chaotic and vi wished she put on a towel beneath before, a pain she quickly forgets about when you’re putty in her fingers, walls clenching against her intrusive fingers as she shoves them in one more time, pulsating cunt opening and getting used to her as your back arches against the bed presenting to her wide open.
she uses a hand to keep you there. spreaded you like she wants you to be, even when you’re shaking involuntarily and her fingers withdrawal entirely before she pushes them back again knuckles-deep in your tight channel.
“suck me back in, get used to me” she says as your pussy makes room for her slender digits, filling you just right until they curve to hit on a special spot she discovers in awe— “there it is- there baby? does it feel good there?”
and your tits bounce with each thrust, your arousal gathers in the palm on vi’s hand, and she’s drunk already, drunk in you and the sounds you make, your incoherent words asking for more, begging to be fucked harder. you move against her fingers and your cunt makes this filthy sound it makes her moan already dampening her own underwear.
“yes- fuck yes” you moan, your arms can barely hold you up now as you fall against your elbows, and vi can feel the moment you squeeze her fingers, the inconsistency on the movements of your hips — “feels s’good vi, filling me up so good.”
it’s pride that installs in her chest, helping you move since you’re too dumb to function from yourself: it’s so fucking nice since you’re barely holding in by a thread, the mount of her hand brushing against your clit and she knows you’re close, but instead of giving you time to breathe, play with you a little, she’s too desperate, yanking at the fabric of your bra just get rid of it.
her mouth closes around your breast, and the sweat on your skin feels salty, aphrodisiac as she marks the skin sucking until it’s a whole different color, harshly biting on the stiffed peak of your nipple.
“you gonna cum?” she asks, breathing against your skin “god-you’re squeezing me so tight-”
the pain mixes up deliciously, and you can’t speak nor gather words in your mouth who can let vi know how close you really are, but she reads it in your body language, in the way your legs shake and you really struggle to keep them apart.
“keep them spread let me see you,” her tone is gentle even when she’s destroying you at it’s finest, as her fingers curl inside your sensitive cunt and she rubs inside that spot inside of you she's very much aware of now — “if you’re going to cum, you might as well do it good.”
her leg pushes yours open, and you’re trapped there beneath her weight, her bites on your skin that will leave marks that won’t come out for days. your moans get louder by the seconds and it’s that thing you need to let the orgasm pour in, hot lava against your skin as your body tenses up and you’re shaking in her hands.
and vi picks it up in no time, fingers nestled inside you, moving them ever so slightly as you come undone. the sight itself makes her sure she’s leaking against her underwear, the sweat on your skin that makes you glow against the barely illuminated sheets messier than ever.
"hush," vi says seconds after as your pleasure subsides, not giving you much time to recovery after it "don't want the whole building to hear-"
her fingers, wet from your arousal, trace the corners of your mouth, the seam of your lower lip as a silent invitation. you make delicious sounds, yet they’re so loud vi ends up shoving the same fingers she fucked you with now in your mouth trying to muffle them a little.
and it’s inviting even, the vibrations your sweet moans make as she pushing her digits further, making you taste yourself as she finally shuts you up.
vi's cunt's already slick when she's pulling on her underwear away, makes you switch places with her as her head falls against the pillows now for a second when you're placing yourself between her parted legs, tangled limbs as you settle your cunt against her's and: hell.
her fingers push against your throat making you choke on them, and you can hear the sound vi makes when you move on top of her again, pussy already glistening with arousal as it rubs deliberately against her's, almost a kiss as you can feel when every inch of her is already throbbing against you.
swollen clit, schlick sounds fill the air — it's filthy, almost diabolical when your sweat mixes up with her, when body fluids are not gross and instead, you crave every inch you can get.
"fuck peach, you're so wet," vi mutters under her breath, and a hand slips to grope your tits, rolling the stiffed nipple between her fingers "ah- s'fucking crazy how your pretty pussy was made to fit mine."
her words slur together and it makes you smile, makes you feel good as her hands force you to move on top of her, only adding to the sensation when her finger goes further down now to massage your clit, braindead as your movements become more erratic by the seconds, uncontrolled.
"come on baby, you're doing so good" vi praises, encouraging you to keep on moving as her digits slide so fucking easy between your legs, allowing them to touch how needy she makes you, how fast she's able to reduce you to pieces — "you gonna cum all over my cunt, baby? s'that it?"
vi loves every minute, the moans that fill the air and you try so hard to muffle, the distortion on your face as you force yourself to keep moving even when your legs shake in response, your body gives up and you function in autopilot.
drool slides down her arm, using her fingers to slowly fuck your mouth with them, an smile stirs vi's lips upwards as she can see the white traces of your arousal mixing up with her own in a delicious mix between your legs, unable to answer her questions as you're too busy being choked on her digits.
"use your words, love" it's the fucked out expression that gets her, hole already clenching around nothing as strings of white cum connect you to her "you can do it, you're a good girl."
"sweet fuck-vi," you breathe out when she's withdrawing her fingers out, and your voice is rougher now than ever, raspy as saliva drips down your chin. you're much aware of the lewd sound of her cunt in constant contact with yours, holding her hand before lacing your fingers with vi's as she encourages you to keep on moving.
you need an anchor.
it's slow and torturing, the greatest cruelty as each roll of your hips bring you deliciously close to the edge, little by little as the wet from vi's arousal gathers in your thighs, the expanses of your cunt — fuck you're going to cum like this.
theres silence in the room now, but violet appreciates it more than ever cause she can listen to your hitched breathing, lips swollen now from how much you've been using them, the slick, lewd sounds of your pussy against her own.
her vision fade to black when she cums, gripping on your waist like she needs to hold herself from flying to the damn moon, moving you until you're shaking on top of her and your eyes swell up with tears before you cum too, oversensitive when you pant out her name as she holds you close.
"i got you," she whispers, but she don't stop moving you against her soaked, sensitive pussy in response — "i got you peach. it's okay m'not going anywhere."
it means more than just a promise, more than just something tossed to the air as she lets you rest on top of her, ten minutes until she's moving you to switch places once more, making you lay on her pillows now comfortable.
and you look at her searching for an explanation, but vi already has one when she's leaving soft kisses agains your lower belly.
"gonna try how good we taste together, it will only be a moment."
fake girlfriends right? what a fucking joke.
it's awfully good.
dangerously good when you're trapped with vi the next days. a good way of saying it cause she got you in her practices now that she settles with the team you really are off-limits, on your free times and by night when you whine about how small her bed is for two persons now that you spend time there in her room.
it's been three days and no one's surprised by the kisses, by the touches, by the way she cannot be seen without you around, and it could be nothing to the rest already used to it, but to vi's a damn rollercoaster, one she's experiencing like never before.
she's allowed to stole kisses now, to touch — and she' so clingy about it.
ellie makes fun of her and abby won't shut up when she sees the two of you in the same room, but vi likes it. makes her feel weirdly good. so much she don't think about her on and off story with sarah, how she's been hearing rumours all over because you're on her mind.
she becomes addicted to your kisses by friday, and it don't take long but she wants you in her arms every second of the day she's not expected to do something and it's like before, surprising enough is like when you dragged her to the rims, when you bring her complex coffees with weird smells she hates.
she even spends the weekend latched in your back even when you explain you have to study — "i'll help you out, i swear" she promises, but she does nothing but distract you when she's sitting on top of you, hands kneading the gloves of your ass until you're leaving your books unattended and vi smiles cause she has your attention to her now.
it was good, faking it. slide in the stole caresses, the kisses who where to mislead others — but that's the real thing, better than ever when no one knows you're melting there cause she kisses you on top of her motorbike you're still reluctant to ride, making you hug her as the wind blows your hair in what you call bike therapy and there's no other place she needs to be, another person she needs around.
she makes you part of her life with an ease that was already there, an small extra step as she goes to find you right after classes, giving you at least fifteen good reasons about how you should be spending the afternoon with her instead of drawing and working there on your own.
yes. violet vanderson is so in love with your mess. your painted hands when you get so into drawing, the images of her in your sketchbook she had no idea you were doing but they're etched on each page until there's no more space.
it's a silent agreement. she don't have to say anything cause you understand her, and vi gets you too. a sense of belonging she never had until that moment.
it's a rare side she barely shows, with you only. she's always a bit distant from the rest, reserved, but on the intimacy of your shared moments she seems nothing but the contrary — constantly craving for attention, for love and whispered words of wanting.
it's weirdly good until the catharsis comes on sunday, when vi's picking you up to go to this party you don't really want to go on the first place. the music's loud, and you crave to see a good movie in your room beneath at least five blankets, but you're by her side cause you know it's a party in honor to the hockey team, a way of wishing good luck since they've won every single match in the season now with a streak of gold.
and you pay no attention to it, but sarah's there too, and unlike any other time she's there cause she wants to talk to vi now that she's cozy enough to call you her girl so blatantly, mainly because she's mad since she can't believe vi would choose anyone over her.
it's not her fault either — sarah's in love and love hurts like a dagger. so when you say you're going to the bathroom, she's already talking to her without a previous warning.
"violet," she greets with a smile, looking extra beautiful tonight cause she puts effort on her look. she wants to make an impression, want her ex to remember her in the best moments they shared together "how are you? haven't seen you for a while."
things are never simple. love constantly hurts. sarah knows it by herself when she's leaning too close, when she's touching vi's arms as the conversation goes on by the minutes.
"i miss you" she says after, and vi has been there before. in the sweet words and the whispered lies "this thing you got with her- are you serious about it? you really like her?"
her words are low, low enough so only vi could hear, close so she's punched by the smell of her shampoo, long nails scratching on her skin — sarah's going to kiss her if she allows her to keep all touchy like that. vi can feel the mint on her breath colliding in her skin and it's wrong, wrong now since she don't want it at all, cause sarah's far from her mind now, long gone for months and a person she wants to avoid.
and vi's about to push her away, explain how yes she's very serious about you, but she's pushed in an awkward kiss instead that paralyzes her for a moment, makes her brain stop for a long second cause she's not expecting it, the sudden contact of her ex girlfriends hands as she steals a kiss, how random all was.
"what the fuck," she breathes out when she's pushing sarah away, but it's clearly late when she can spot you from the corner of her eye already leaving the party, not really looking in her way as you exited the house — "what the fuck was that?"
she don't bother to hear sarah's explanation when she's too busy running after you, she don't need one. things are long finished, and vi wants to explain that to you when the cold weather from outside's making her skin shiver.
"wait-" she calls you out — "fuck, wait up!"
from where you looked, this was far beyond a simple interaction. after all the times you heard she wanted to make clear she was over sarah you know there's a lot of history. she's there looking hot as ever as she bats her eyelashes and leans dangerously close to vi's mouth — and you're looking like a fool.
it's a punch in the face, one that feels deeper than any wound as vi don't seem to notice until you're leaving the place, heart pounding all over the place as you can feel the shame on your body like an old friend: she's there, kissing on sarah fortune when minutes before she was with you already handsy?
the night grows silent as you quickly walk away. like a shame walk back home cause there's no fucking way you're riding her motorbike ever again.
is it betrayal? the two of you never settled anything more than a fake relationship — or maybe, it's the utter fear in the pit of your stomach cause you like her more than you expected?
"please- don't leave-" vi says catching on her breath "sarah there- it's not what you're thinking."
"it's okay vi. you don't owe me any explaining" you talk without much emotions on your face: you should have insisted on movie night.
"i do. you know i do" she's quick to reply, shaking her head in denial "i care about what you think, you're so damn important to me, sarah she's-"
"listen. you're not my girlfriend" you remind her, and in all sense of the word, she isn't. you never talked about being in a relationship with her, neither did vi mentioned it in the four days of paradise "it's better if we keep things like they were before, we're at the perfect time until it's too late. i'm fake dating you."
vi has experienced pain before yes. the air being stolen from her lungs, but your words sink in like a finger twisting against a bullet hole in her shoulder, cold as ever as her brows furrow in response — you're too pissed to listen.
"this is a misunderstood," she insists, "you know it's not like that. this is real. what we have is real, please just- hear me."
"we've made the limits too blurry," you try to explain, and in the cold air you shiver against the cold weather of autumn and she wants to give you her scarf to protect you from the air knowing you'll say no, standing at a safe distance in front of you — "you kissing on sarah it's what we needed vi. the push we were lacking to break this fake thing. i can't hold it no longer, we've fucked it up."
"bug. don't do this."
"it's the agreement we had first place," you interrupt, already annoyed as you shove your hands inside the pockets of your jacket and vi can't stand it. can't stand the disappointment in your voice as you speak — "we broke the rules we settled in the first place. i like you more than i ever know, i'm going to your practices, riding your bike- it's not what we agreed upon."
"it wasn't real. the rules they were never real" there's desperation in her tone vi does not care to hide anymore, taking a step closer to you. "don't tell me you believed in them, i broke them the very same day we settled them. they are not real, never counted."
it's almost like she's saying it over and over again to calm down the fire on her chest, the flames that rises in her lungs as she breathes in the cold air sober than ever.
"you have things to talk with your ex still vi, and i'm not really good in the equation. i don't want to be involved in whatever you have going on with her, it's your business. make up your mind first."
she wants to insist, make you stop right there even when she's close to have a frostbite to this point, freezing cold as you, cold as ever, continue your way and leave her standing her, trying to make sense of it all.
you never fucking listen.
so you disappear and it's like a dream all over when she's going back to the house, expectant of waking up in her wrinkled sheets with you already using more than half of the bed.
but vi never wakes up and she knows you're right at some point.
she needs to talk with sarah.
you'd catalogue it as a supersonic sunburst.
a ray of sunshine coming up from between the clouds that blinds you momentarily, fast like the speed of sound — supersonic.
she's like a supersonic sunburst.
violet vanderson's able to crawl under your skin to live there with you without knowing, and when she's missing, there's a hollow inside you even you were perfectly great before when you had no idea of her oh so important existence.
it's nothing to the point it becomes everything because you miss her too. scared of actually fall in, of let her know the way to your heart.
news are fast cause by the next day people in the party's already commenting on what happened: vi kissing her ex? it's all they talk about in whispered confessions when you're around, walking in campus in black shades cause you refuse to let people think you're even slightly affected by her and whatever relationship she had now with sarah.
you let them speak due to your lack of good choices when it comes to picking a fake girlfriend with a reputation that followed. it was a part of the deal and you're taking your part in it. fair.
even ava seems to take pity of you when she's talking to you again, and it's a huge relieve cause you were sure she was going to politely ask you to find for another place to live when in reality, she's offering you from the pizza she ordered like a truce, being all sensitive when she's asking about your emotional status as she heard things.
everybody seems to add something new, even yourself as you're aware on the late news that spread throughout the campus by tuesday morning: vi's back with sarah again, she's saving her a seat for the thursday game, they were together in the rims.
and loneliness suits you better. you like to think about that cause you're forgotten and left out this love triangle like you asked before, and it's funny cause you agreed in something entirely different in the beginning, but you don't get the pretty girl in the end, and vi, even when she’s so invested in pushing her ex away, ended up gaining the whole contrary.
four days of heaven it's not near enough to cover the time you needed with her, but your pride it’s too big to let down so when she stops texting you, you subtly understand it’s because she got someone new: some things are better left unsaid.
you crave to be loved, to be need and wanted, but to be loved is to be bare under the naked eye: three weeks with violet and you’re what? crushed because her pretty ex is back? better to have a broken heart now before you’re in too deep.
you're officially done with the world of love. at least it's what you keep repeating to you and your close ones, that worried friend that insists on knowing how you're doing over text: you're done with love, and impossible, borderline stupid crushes.
"are you ever going to get out of your room?" ava asks as she enters the space, opening the curtains "it really smells like death in here."
"no i'm not" you reply, tired from being up all night watching on some tv series as a way to subside with your bad luck lately — "i'm gonna finish the last season of yellowjackets, actually. heard shauna's a real bitch in there."
"listen to me, i say this as a friend, but the smell in here, it's you" ava points out as she opens the window to let the air filter "my field trip will be over in a couple of days. after that, you're going out with me to see actual people. you need it."
"i'm okay."
"yeah. sure you are. please take a fucking shower before you kill us both due to intoxication, my eyes are watering."
"that's really over the top. dramatic even."
being friends with ava however, it's the weirdest thing you have ever experienced. you liked her since the moment you saw her, but now she's nothing but a good friend when she's taking the delivery food rests from the floor with a grossed look.
"if i see spider, i'm evicting you."
your recent friend has this geological field trips you don't understand much, but she's gone for a couple of days usually. maybe that's why on thrusday, you wake up paranoid as ever when you hear a noise coming out from your roommate's dorm.
you want to say you're crazy, but the sound's there again subtle and distant, as your brows furrow in concern: ava’s not in the house until tomorrow, and it's definitely not her when you can hear footsteps.
thieves. somebody got into ava’s room and they’re stealing all her stuff — “ave?” you ask out from the kitchen, receiving silence in response “you home earlier?”
to be fair, you don’t think much when you’re walking up to her door, opening up without a previous warning only to find out a scene you’re once again not welcomed in.
“what the fuck?” you can hear ava’s pitched voice when all suddenly stops and you froze for a moment “get out! why are you still here?”
it should be worst things in life that finding out your former crush is now with a redhead, right? — starting out for redheads kissing each other, cause that's a crime to society.
“don't you know how to knock?” she screams from the inside “i texted you yesterday telling you i was going to come home early, dumbass.”
“i'm so sorry” you reply on the other side of the door, holding on a laugh at the other side as you don't want to make her ever further mad — “there’s a lock you know? you can use it sometimes.”
“fuck off.”
however, you’re opening the door again to interrupt a new make out session much covered now, staring at the other girl you ignored before, the redhaired you did not recognize until you're blatantly checking on her.
“sarah. you’re fucking sarah fortune,” you state almost not believing it as you can feel the loud pounding in your chest at the realization, and ava's blushing the same shade of her messy hair as you point it out impressed "i'm gonna let you guys keep at that, you know? yeah. goodbye."
your mouth falls open when you're closing out the door at your back, and you're celebrating without making a sound as it was the most awkward moment of your life.
ava. ava's fucking sarah.
it's news you want to share, but none of your friends would understand how important it is, so you cannot do anything but keep it to yourself.
and it hits you as you go to room again ready to play some loud music so you don't hear anything — if sarah's there: does it mean she's not dating vi back again?
ah. fuck. maybe you'll need to swallow your pride a little bit.
vi's been thinking about you lately. quite a lot.
it starts like a memory in the morning. vi gets up earlier cause she got so much energy lately she don't know where to put it as she runs as much as she can for at least an hour, and it extends to the afternoon where she's sure her phone buzzed with one of your texts, when in reality, it's empty as you don't reply to any of her tries.
and it bring sadness by the night, when she's smoking on her own and the air's cold but she don't want to use a sweater since it's too peaceful to move, to remember she's alive again.
how is she so utterly affected by you?
she ends up overthinking about the brief story she shared with you on the course of almost three weeks in which she allowed you, in plain sight, to get closer to her than anyone to the point she's used to your company — her practices where she seems distracted as ever, her usually bad choices you prevent in the movies since she's always insisting in action movies.
she misses you, and it's her fault mainly when she let you in so easy, without much questioning. almost like you already belonged there.
"violet, you're in" to be fair. she don't want to play by thursday. she's not into the mood lately.
the place is packed and the other team is not giving up as they fight every second on the ice, yet vi's not really there. the game is on its peak point, there's tension and competition in the air, loud noises from the public already cheering on their preferred team, but she's insisting, over and over again, how she should be left in the benches since she's suffering from a strange pain in her shoulder: how is one of the greatest players in the team going to spend the whole game seated?
"i'll only slow the team- send akali" she suggests, but the coach shake her head as she screams to the referee "i'm not at my best."
"since when you're bothered by a little wound, vi?" the coach ask, and her nose wrinkles in defeat: never really, she's usually pushing through misery "there are recruiters out there looking for their next super star, now don't be dumb and get in the ice now."
it's harsh, what vi needed to hear as she's biting on her safety mouth guard before being pushed to the ice by the third and last period — she just wishes to survive.
you've slowly become a problem since the only thing you do, even when you're not near, is mess up with her head. she's being shoved and pushed by two minutes in, and she cannot get twenty minutes of silence when she spots you there in the seats using this red white and blue jersey with her number on it and it's just like the one she's wearing now.
you're there.
is it a dream? has she reached the point where she's hallucinating? maybe there's a rational explanation, maybe vi's brain so stressed lately it makes up things due to the adrenaline or something like that. makes sense. the rush.
"what the fuck is wrong with you? wake the fuck up-" ellie curses by her side when vi can feel the blood on her mouth as she's shoved to the side, roughly pushed against the border to crash her head against the thick protection plastic that surrounded the rink, the other team quickly reducing her offense to nothing as they score in their favor — "if we lose i'm going to kill you violet. i mean it."
despite the threats of her captain, vi forces herself to look again at the spot she saw you before and you're there again — worried as you tried to see how she was doing, wearing her shirt and she's lost for a moment.
you came.
it makes her breathing erratic, and for a moment she don't know if it's for the pain or that hazy feeling on her chest but you're there and it means so damn much to her as you smile at her for a moment and you shyly mutter a hi like you're not already wearing a jersey with her name on it.
she's mad at you. violet needs to stay mad at you cause you don't ever fucking listen, and she tried to explain so many times before she was never into sarah or whatever it may have seemed, how the kiss was actually against her will — how she was long done with her ex before you even came to the picture.
she wants to pause the game for a brief moment and demand you to listen to her now, make clear she never cared about sarah nor ava for once, but she values her life also cause ellie's already giving her a bad look as they are already on a bad situation, so even under your gaze she pays attention to the game.
it's what she loves, even when she's swallowing her own blood and she's sure there are going to bruises bigger than her hand, she's shouting to abby from the other side and in the blink of an eye — there it is. score.
the public shouts in the bleachers and to be a person that don't watch any kind of sports you really seem to enjoy the game as you never been into one before, celebrating with the rest: stay mad at you. she needs to remember, stay mad at you.
in the end, vi's filthy and reeking sweat, tossing her gloves powder's painted to the floor as a way of supporting her since she hates going to games and actually stay seated for two hours, the big helmet she holds in her hands before she's crushed in a hug from the team as they celebrated another victory.
golden streak.
her friends are shouting her name since she made the last point on their half, and even when it makes her feel good about it, she's searching for you in the room, an smile on your face as you looked at the celebration cause you're proud of her — she's really good in what she does.
you've seen her practices but a game was different. so you stay there hidden in the sea of the people around you, but vi can spot you right away since you got this light on your own she can pick up from the distance.
and the athlete can feel the weight of your eyes in hers, even at the distance she cannot enjoy a celebration under her name cause she aches to see you, needs to clear up some things before anything else, so she's awkwardly smiling to the greetings, acting polite as she skates her way out of the rink between jokes and hair scratches of the girls she has been playing for years: we're going to win this season if you keep up like this vi, leave some room for us mortals.
her cheeks are blushed since she's not really used to it, people praising on her so blatantly, but it gives her the confidence she needs to leave her ice skates on the floor.
"what are you doing?" abby asks when she notices she's not really going to the changing rooms but instead, about to jump out the small wall that separate the players seats from the public barefoot — "not celebrating with us?"
"later," vi says already in the other side "need to take care of something else first."
she don't receive an stupid joke back, refreshing almost as she climbs up the stairs. usually she takes a long shower after a game ready to celebrate but now, vi's walking between the people who's patting her arm, touching on her painted helmet and congratulating her for a good game.
and really, vi'd like to walk to you faster, but she has to say thank you to each compliment as an awkward smile stirred her lips upwards.
"hi."
"hey," you greet her back, and she knows the signs of your body when you're nervous as she ha already seen it so many times before, the look in your face that sold you out entirely "great game, congratulations."
"thank you" she replies, even when she's already combusting in how many praises she got already, your words scratches a different part on her brain. you're special to her, your words mean more than the rest "you came."
"i did," it's hard to remember she needs to stay mad at you cause it's difficult like this, you're there in a jersey with her name on it, that smile on your face she likes to see every single time — "i told you i wanted to come."
"yeah. i missed you," the words escape from her lips before she can think about what she's saying and it's too late to regret them as the simple admission makes you breathless "and i'm really pissed at you too."
"i'm sorry-" vi has lost count now of many many little deaths she has experienced in your company, but there goes another one as the air is stolen from her lungs and the rest of the public is disappearing until there's only the two of you reduced in the cold temperature of the rink, "for not hearing what you have to say."
"i never wanted to kiss sarah," she says at a safe distance, holding onto her helmet like her life depends on it — "i'm not into her, i explained that to her too."
"you aren't" you reply, and vi's almost relieved when she notices you are listening to her "i know it."
"i don't know what you heard, i've heard some crazy shit myself" it slowly fades away until it's not there anymore, that weird anger that she felt before and was so invested in not forgetting in the ice “i’m not with sarah either, she’s not my girlfriend.”
“she’s dating ava” you told her as her eyes widened at the information “like fully dating, walked into them today.”
“what?” vi’s struck for a moment before chuckling in aware “holy shit, that's some news-"
"yeah" you agree with her before you're pulling out this white paper from the back pocket of your jeans, a tiny paper that turned out to be a good sized tablecloth she can recognize from before — "i found our rules. wanted to show them to you."
"you came here to show me the rules were real?" vi asks holding in a laugh, looking at the words you write down with her brows furrowed "this is still not enough to count i'm afraid. i was too busy eating and i didn't agree on most."
"what? don't cheat it does count" you roll your eyes in response as you point out your own handwriting to specific numbers — "we broke up rules. number one, two three and five to be specific, which is most of them."
"is this your way of saying sorry? explaining you're right?" vi holds the paper between her fingers as she takes a step forwards to you, hiding it beneath her back as she looks down to you "not inviting me one of those artisanal pasta dishes you make? you're not working here for my love."
"i am right" you proudly state as she chuckles, not making a movement to step back and reject her advances. "you should admit it either way, those there are real rules you broke."
people are long gone by now, the bleachers now empty as you prove your point and vi's dropping the helmet to the floor cause she's too busy holding you now, right between her arms as her hand cups your cheek and she's making you meet her gaze.
"you're right, i broke the rules" she gives you the point, another win to your book she wants you to have — "we broke up the rules, do you have any complains now that you know you're right?"
"not really" she's smiling against your lips as you add — "maybe we did were a bad movie in the end, one where the main characters fall in love cause they are so dumb they thought they could pull out a fake relationship."
"a bad movie" she agrees with you, there's no point in hiding it as she's cutting the inches that separates her lips from yours in a much necessary, colliding kiss — "we are a bad movie."
"hold up-"
"what?" vi asks impatient "you need me to pretend i want you for a minute? another girl you like?"
you're a little monster, appearing on her game with her jersey, glossy lips and big eyes.
"no," you simply reply, looking at the empty rink now — "i was just making sure there's no one around. i don't want you to think this is not real anymore."
real. everything's so real.
ah. violet vanderson would most definitely rot in love.
#⋮ ⌗ ┆ grotesquevi ᵎᵎ ✮#riva's remaster ⋆.˚#arcane smut#vi arcane x reader#arcane x reader#vi arcane#vi league of legends#vi x reader#arcane vi#vi lol#arcane#arcane violet#arcane vi x reader#violet smut#vi smut#vi fanfic#vi arcane x you#vi arcane fanfic#vi arcane x y/n#violet arcane#vi x you#arcane fanfic#arcane fic#arcane au#violet x reader#violet arcane x reader#arcane x female reader
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“DIDN’T MEAN TO HURT YOU, I SWEAR!”

WIND BREAKER BOYS + ACCIDENTALLY HURTING YOU. ft. hayato suo, kaji ren, nirei akihiko, sakura haruka, togame jo, & umemiya hajime x f!reader.
filled request: “Hi there i want to request something, asking Sakura, Ume, Nirei, Kaji and Suo to play fight and they accidentally hit you hard (If it's to many you can just do Suo and Kaji, no pressureeee)”
sfw. 3.2K wc. a/n: added togame! & tried to make suo & kaji’s xtra long since those 2 look like they might be ur faves <33
HAYATO SUO.
in the time you’ve spent dating suo, you have never once managed to successfully sneak up on him. not even remotely close. it’s impossible to the point that you’ve started to consider the fact that your boyfriend may have developed a sort of sixth sense since meeting you, an intuitive awareness of your presence— because as soon as you step within a three foot radius of him, his head is swiftly turning to face you, greeting you with an amused smile and a “this again?” with that tone that has your eyebrow twitching all over again.
you continue to fiddle with the bottom of your shirt from where you’re hidden behind your apartment door, anxiously awaiting for the moment suo emerges from outside. your plan was nothing short of perfect, every little detail thought out— and you were entirely sure of it this time.
you had given suo a copy of your key ages ago, so that he could come in at anytime without you needing to be there. a second check of your phone’s messages has you mentally preparing yourself when you reread his “i’m coming~” text from exactly twenty minutes ago, and you smile to yourself. asking him to come by and babysit your cat while you went on a quick snack restock errand was the best excuse, and a part of you feels a little guilty for formulating such an intricate plan just to get a scare out of your boyfriend— but it had to be done.
the sound of suo’s key wiggles inside the doorknob, your breath hitching in your throat when you hear the lock switch just a few seconds after, followed by the eerie creaking noise that your door always seems to make.
“i’m here,” suo sings out to no one in particular, his usual smile etched onto his face as he takes a peek inside. dark, and empty. nothing unusual, not that he was expecting anything out of the ordinary in the first place.
as soon as he takes a step inside, he’s going to take off his shoes first, and you jump on the opportunity. you’re quick to lunge at him the second his thumb slips in his shoe, aiming to launch yourself into his middle and crush him in a suffocating hug. you don’t miss the way he tenses for a split second, eyes widening at the sudden movement— mind immediately flashing to his first thought…. an intruder?
he doesn’t recognize you at first, your figure reduced to a blur— and all he knows is that something is headed towards him. and fast. he’s moving on pure instinct, arm reaching for the closest thing to him at that moment: your arm.
you gasp when you realize just how agile your boyfriend really is. the truth is— you’ve never seen him fight, and he doesn’t really talk to you about it. he has a habit of leaving all the details out, and you don’t usually find yourself asking him about it after seeing the way he’s always coming out of fights unscathed. so sure. you knew he was probably pretty strong.
but you had no idea he was like this.
“w-wait!” you yelp when his foot comes to loop around your ankle, and you’re suddenly falling backwards. your hand desperately moves to catch onto something— anything to avoid falling onto the floor, so you grab a fistful of suo’s shirt.
he’s clenching his jaw in shock when you roughly yank him down with you, the familiar sound of your voice registering a second too late, because the two of you are crashing onto the ground a second later, suo’s weight knocking the wind out of your chest.
there’s a moment of silence as the two of you wince, your eyes fluttering open to meet with suo, looming over you with an expression you’ve never seen on him before. genuine concern … and what looks to be .. shock?
it takes you another moment to take note of the subtle warmth you’re feeling until you finally recognize it as suo’s hand that’s currently cradling the back of your head— and you’re at a loss as to exactly when or how he managed to do that in only a split second.
“i’m sorry,” suo chuckles sheepishly, “you got me this time. i really thought you were an intruder.”
“but did you hit your head? hard? are you okay?” he continues, other arm coming to pull you up and hold you against his chest. “tell me.”
“i think so,” you’re barely able to mumble, heat rushing to your cheeks at the realization that suo’s first thought wasn’t to cushion his own fall, but to protect your head instead. “not that hard though… i think. it doesn’t hurt very much.”
suo’s gaze on you is suddenly much more noticeable, and you’re tearing your eyes away from him a second later, sneaking glances back and forth as he continues to search for any signs of pain.
none that he notices, and the way your lips are pressed in a nervous line is a good sign, at least. suo lets out a relieved sigh before he’s smiling again, as if you hadn’t just spooked the sealed spirits out of him.
“let’s not do that again, okay?”
KAJI REN.
you’ve never seen the night market this packed in your entire life.
it’s so busy that it’s almost suffocating, each breath taking double the effort from the way your body is being smothered between people as kaji leads you towards the food stands.
‘the best fried octopus you���ll ever try,’ your friend had said…but you’re seriously reevaluating you and kaji’s decision to come here— on the busiest night all summer to top it off.
it definitely wasn’t the best idea the two of you have come up with.
you’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve said the words “excuse me!” and “sorry, getting through!” tonight. a part of you feels bad for your boyfriend— because you knew kaji was way worse off than you, the scowl on his face running the risk of being permanently etched onto his face from the sheer intensity of his glare. the grip he has on your wrist is tighter than ever before, trying his best to weave his way through the crowd without losing you.
kaji knows his mood is worsening each time someone bumps into him, and twice— or even three times as much when he feels someone bumping into you instead. he can feel the way your body roughly jerks back from the impact, and it was stressing him out more than he could imagine. the possibility of losing you and leaving you all alone in an aggressive crowd like this was the last thing he wanted.
he’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t hear you call out his name the first time, or the second time. not even the third time. he doesn’t hear your voice trail off a bit when you mention that his grip is starting to hurt a little— to maybe hold hands instead.
he didn’t hear any of it.
kaji catches a glimpse of an emptier area, and he’s suddenly pulling harder at your wrist to lead you to it, not hearing you squeak out an “ouch, that hurts!”
and it hurts badly, warm tears welling up in your eyes as you struggle to try and keep up with him. it’s only when he suddenly jerks you around a corner that you’re tripping over the curb, stumbling and crashing into his back with a loud ‘ouch!’ that he finally turns to take a look at you.
kaji’s eyes are widening at the sight— your teary eyes peering up at him through wet lashes and your hand gingerly rubbing at your wrist. his words catch in his throat, barely able to sputter out an “are you.. okay?”
you shake your head quickly, lips tugging to a shaky frown. “you were hurting my wrist, kaji.”
his chest feels tight.
kaji is quick to bring your hand in his, gently cupping your hand as he looks at your wrist, and the guilt is flooding through him all at once. the thought of hurting you has him grimacing, feeling physically ill just thinking about it, and it’s not long before his mind is racing through all the scenarios.
he didn’t want to hurt you— and he doesn’t want to be someone you saw as ‘dangerous’ either. your wrist was so delicate, and it was a terrifying reminder of his strength— because he didn’t even realize that he was squeezing in the first place.
he truly had no idea.
“it’s okay,” your voice slices through the thick air, ripping him out of his thoughts, “i know you were stressed— it was scary over there.”
“i was scared too, kaji.”
the gentle smile you give him is the only thing that can bring him this much comfort, he thinks. it’s enough to clear his head, his heartbeat settling down, and he’s ripping another lollipop open before popping it in his mouth, turning and kneeling onto the floor.
“you can get on.”
even without his words, it’s a gesture you’re very familiar with— so you don’t hesitate for a second before climbing onto his back, arms circling around kaji as he lifts you up. there’s a subtle pink dusting the tips of his ears when you press a gentle kiss to his head, thanking him for carrying you.
“it’s not a problem,” he grumbles, voice coming out low as a futile attempt to hide the excited thump of his heart.
“get comfy up there, because we’re not leaving this damn market until we get a hold of that octopus.”
NIREI AKIHIKO.
nirei swears that he had no idea that the pillow he had just thrown towards you a moment ago had buttons decorating the outside.
he really didn’t know, and of course it was the only pillow that happened to land right on your face.
“i’m so sorry! are you okay?” his voice comes out frantic as he rushes towards you, terrified eyes watching the way you rub your eye and groan in pain. this was terrible, he was terrible. pillows were never supposed to cause you any pain.
“it…it hit your eye? i’m so sorry,” he repeats, hands coming up to do something— wave around you in panic, because he’s not quite sure if he should touch you or leave you be. his hands hover just in front of your face, mind racing with potential ways he could help.
he jolts when you laugh a bit.
“you really picked the worst pillow,” your laugh comes out strained as you try and blink, vision spotted with dots from the hit you’ve taken. “…it’s okay though.”
it takes you a couple more seconds to see nirei clearly, and you can tell that he’s absolutely devastated with just one glance, nervous hands finally coming to grab at your shoulders, keeping you still so he can inspect your eye.
“let me see.”
he’s leaning in a bit, until his face is just a couple inches in front of yours. “i think um,” he squints a bit, ignoring the warmth rising to his cheeks from the proximity, “i think your eye looks fine.”
the guilt is still eating him alive. a part of him wishes that you had been the one to grab that pillow instead, because he’s certain he would have jumped on the opportunity to tank a hit from a buttoned pillow a thousand times before letting it hit you just once. straight in the eye. anywhere. it doesn’t matter to him.
“it probably is,” you give him a small smile, “but you still cheated. i won that fight.”
SAKURA HARUKA.
“i-i didn’t know you were there!”
sakura’s a complete and utter mess, and he genuinely didn’t know any better. he didn’t hear you creeping up behind him, so when your arms suddenly wrapped around his middle, his reflex was to jab his elbow straight behind him— and it hit you square in the face.
he could feel his heart shatter into pieces when the sound of your yelp rang in his ears, jerking his body around only to see you stagger backwards, clutching your nose and peering up at him through those teary eyes.
sakura doesn’t know what to do. you’re sniffling now, your arms reaching out to hug him a second time, your voice barely coherent as you start babbling with a shaky voice, the only words he could recognize being “i deserve a hug for that.”
he’s a complete mess. he’s stiff when he lets you wrap your arms around his middle this time, face flushed with red at the simple touch and his heart hurting at the sound of you sniffling against his jacket, hand coming to wipe at the tears welling up in your eyes.
it’s impossible for him to not think of the worst— because he knows other guys wouldn’t be making this kind of mistake. his friends wouldn’t have elbowed you in the face in the first place. or at the very least, his friends would know how to comfort someone in this type of situation. he wants to kick himself for just standing there, words catching in his throat every time he tries and apologize.
“sorry…” your voice is quiet, but it’s enough to yank him out his thoughts. “i shouldn’t have scared you like that.”
it takes sakura a couple seconds before his mouth is falling at the apology. “huh?” he’s dumbfounded, hands coming to grab at your shoulders, “i should be apologizing!”
his face erupts in a furious blush when you giggle at his reaction, thumb coming to swipe at the tears that have spilled onto your cheeks. it’s only then when he tugs you back into a tight hug, hand cradling the back of your head to hold you flush against him.
he thinks it’s because he can’t stand to see you cry.
“o-oh?” you whisper against his chest. “this is new.”
sakura chooses to ignore your little remark, clenching his jaw as he glares at your wall, gaze locking on anything except you. “i should be sorry,” he repeats again, his voice barely coherent with the way he’s fighting against his blush, “so you should just … you know. tell me. when you want a hug..”
TOGAME JO. (pet name: doll)
“that’s not right, doll,” togame coos from below you, lips tugging into an amused grin as he watches you struggle to master the self-defense moves that you asked him to teach you an hour ago. or maybe two. it’s normal for him to lose track of time when he’s with you anyway.
your boyfriend doesn’t seem to realize that you don’t have the same stamina he does. or the focus, because you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks again— unsure if it’s because you’re embarrassed of your confused attempts at grabbing him, or if it’s the fact that he’s so casually sprawled out underneath you.
“you listenin’?”
you perk up, followed by a delayed nod. a little too obvious, but he doesn’t say anything.
“you grab me here,” his voice is gentle, guiding your hands back to hover over his body, “and then you pull. remember?”
and you nod again. but the sound of his voice, slow and steady, paired with the way he’s lazily propped up on his elbows to look up at you through tired eyes has your mind spinning all over again, instructions already going out your other ear as you try again and take a large fistful of his sweatshirt.
“..like this?”
he hums, lips tugging into a smile. “that’s good, doll. now pull the way i showed you.”
and you do— or you try to. you tug with all your strength, but you can tell he hasn’t moved an inch. you can hear him hum in wonder above you, and that’s all it takes for your eyes to slam shut as you jerk and pull with all your strength— and you feel some movement for the first time tonight.
“wait…” togame interrupts, but you don’t stop, pulling and pulling— not realizing you’ve inched towards to very edge of your mattress. “wait— we’ll fall,” he repeats with a little more urgency.
it’s a second too late when you realize it, eyes shooting open the second gravity tips the balance, and you’re plummeting backwards with a shriek. togame’s twisting his body to catch you as fast as he can, but the frantic movement has his fist connecting with your cheek before he grabs a hold of you, yanking you upwards and into him.
“fuck,” you wince, rubbing your cheek with the back of your hand as you huff. “that hurt a bit..”
“sorry,” togame lulls, legs spread to have you seated right in front of him, “i was trying to catch you… didn’t mean to smack you like that. are you okay..?”
his hands come to cup your cheeks, tilting your head up to look at the him. the familiar heat in your cheeks returns as soon as you lock eyes with him, because he’s so close. you can feel his breath fan against your lips with the proximity.
and he’s looking right at you.
“‘m okay,” your voice is just above a whisper, “you barely even grazed me, anyway..”
UMEMIYA HAJIME.
“when did you take that?!”
your arms shoot up to reach for ume’s phone, cheeks burning with embarrassment— because that had to be the most foul photo you’ve ever seen of yourself. the sound of your boyfriend erupting into the loudest laugh you’ve heard all day only has you seething— and he’s effortlessly holding his phone just out of your reach, as if to taunt you even further.
“you don’t need to know,” he grins widely, watching the way you shift your weight onto your toes in a futile attempt to reach his phone. “and it’s cute! you don’t think so?”
“give it!” you hiss, and you lunge forward to start pulling at the arm that has the phone, “i’m deleting it!”
“no way,” he retorts with a huff, but you’re pulling his sleeve with your full strength, and it catches ume off guard a bit, foot stumbling forward a step. he’s never seen you pull with all your might— so he just wasn’t expecting it.
you’re lunging again before he’s regained his balance, and he shifts his weight backwards, lower back colliding with the table behind him. his phone slips from his grip too fast for either of you to react, and it lands on your nose with a sickening thud.
his laughter vanishes as soon as you’re letting out a pained yelp, hands coming to clutch your nose, squeezing the bridge to ease the pain.
“ow….” you whimper, voice cracking a bit as tears start to flood your lash line. his heart breaks in two when he sees you sniffle, desperately blinking away the tears that threaten to spill as you check your hand.
no blood. just a lot of pain.
“i’m so sorry,” he’s hovering over you within a second, nervous arms fluttering just above your frame— because he hasn’t quite figured out what to do, and you look so fragile like this. he just doesn’t want to break you.
“..are you okay?” he breaks the silence, “let me see you.”
your face is buried in your hands when ume kneels in front of you, hands coming to gently tug at your wrists so you can look at him. “i’m sorry,” he repeats even quieter, worry flooding his expression when you tear your gaze away from him.
it’s your attempt at trying to get rid of the tears threatening to spill, but he doesn’t know know that. his lips are tugging into a deep frown, eyes filled with worry as he tries to get you to just look at him again.
“look at me, okay?” he whispers, “let me see.”
a deep inhale, and you’re trying to make your voice come out steady again. “i think..i think it’s okay.”
your eyebrows furrow. “you klutz…”
the relief in his face is almost too obvious. he’s taking a sharp inhale, opening his arms to urge you to come for a hug. “i know,” he chuckles, “are you sure? you’re okay?”
you give ume a nod, ignoring the throbbing in your nose as your arms wrap around him, holding him close against you. “i think i’ll be okay if you delete that.”
“no way,” he retorts, relieved that you're at least not crying anymore. "but i'll give you cuddles. deal?"
he's pulling you tighter against him before you even give him your answer, and his shoulders relax a bit when you finally nestle into his arms, leaning into his hold with a soft smile and a throbbing nose.
#wind breaker x reader#togame jo x reader#wind breaker fluff#wind breaker x you#togame jo fluff#togame x reader#hayato suo x reader#hayato suo fluff#suo x reader#kaji ren x reader#kaji ren fluff#kaji x reader#nirei x reader#nirei akihiko x reader#sakura haruka x reader#sakura haruka fluff#sakura x reader#umemiya hajime fluff#umemiya hajime x reader#umemiya x reader#sakura fluff#umemiya fluff#togame fluff#wind breaker headcanons#windbreaker x reader
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How To Sleep
It's way too early for you to be awake. Five in the morning on your day off... you have to stop doing this to yourself. You know it, but you can't stop, because your body thinks it's funny. It wakes up all on its own and does not allow you to go back to sleep as easily.
The good thing is that never feel alone, as the only one awake, because Toji's presence is immense around you. He's always touching some part of you, keeping you tethered to him in any way he can. This time, he's literally weighing you down with his body. He feels comfortably heavy, like a paperweight holding down the first page of an unfinished love letter. His heated cheek rests on your chest, and you know that if he were awake, he'd say something about the numbness he feels in his arms from you lying on them all night, just as you would tell him about the recurring static you feel in your feet because your legs fell asleep.
You can hear Toji's soft breathing, followed by a funny, almost snore-like sound. You know that if you focus too hard on it, you'll laugh and shake him awake, so you go back to looking straight ahead and thinking about why your body must betray you this way. His hair tickles your skin whenever he stirs in his sleep. It lures you into carefully playing with the soft, dark locks, while you continue to wonder why it's always five in the morning. Neither you, nor Toji have to be up at five in the morning on a daily basis, so, maybe you're just going insane.
"Hm?" A low hum that comes from the man lying on your chest. You deem it a sound of sleep and ignore it, silence returning to the room, until he speaks up. His voice is low and deep enough to make your heart skip a beat. "What's that sigh about, ma? Am I too heavy?"
"No, you're okay. Go back to sleep, baby," you respond, caressing the back of his head and wrapping your other arm around him.
Toji believes you, this time, because you wouldn't do this if you were in pain or uncomfortable. He keeps this in mind and goes back to sleep with ease due to the soothing motions he receives from you—the way you run your fingers through his hair and gently scratch his head, as well as the calming strokes to his back. He's fast asleep in seconds, while you stay awake, wishing you could do the same.
Your hands still on him once his soft snoring returns, luring a smile onto your face. You look out the window, seeing nothing but a sliver of moonlight illuminating the edge of the curtains. You're not scared of the dark, but knowing that Toji is there with you makes lying awake in the almost void-like atmosphere a lot better. You trust that if there is such a thing as monsters under the bed or creepy entities hiding in the closet, they can't get you. They won't get you because of him. He's safety, even in a dormant state, and you don't feel an ounce of fear as you stick to blinking the restless minutes away.
You've been awake for over half an hour, now, just letting time go by and continuing on as Toji's body pillow. Even through the stillness, you had your moments of entertainment. He drooled on your chest and there was the occasional quiet and nonsensical sleep talking—both things that lured hushed breaths of laughs from you. It's endearing to see your hulking man in such a peaceful state. It makes you want to squeeze him with all the strength you have in your body. You know it does nothing to him, but you also know that he likes the feeling of you trying to crush him, the way he crushes you.
Again, you mistake his words for more sleepy mumbling, disregarding them until he makes it more clear that he's talking to you.
"You good, ma?" He rasps, pulling his arms out from under your back.
"Mhm. You okay?" You ask, running your thumb over the corner of his lips to wipe the drool off.
"All good. Hey, let's switch, yeah?" He suggests, peeling himself off of you.
"I'm okay, baby. You can go back to sleep," you assure. "You were keeping me warm," you add, with a soft grin.
"And slobbering on you like a damn dog," he grumbles. He lifts the chest part of your camisole and uses it to wipe up the small patch of saliva that makes your skin glisten. "Come on, let's switch," he insists, already scooting over so that you can get up. With a soft, defeated sigh, you sit up and crawl towards the middle of the bed, allowing Toji to slide into the warm spot you left.
"Come here, mama," he calls, moving the blanket so that you can climb on top of him and he can cover both of you up, after. You're careful as you make your way back, feeling around to make sure that you don't plant your hand into his stomach or his ribs. Once you're laid flat on top of him, with your arms around him and your head resting on his chest, he brings the blanket up until it reaches the center of your back and his arms cover what is left exposed.
"Better, isn't it?" He murmurs, once you stop adjusting and get fully comfortable.
"Different," you respond. "Comfy, but I also like when you turn into my weighted blanket. You're always warm."
"Well, you need to be nice and take turns with me, because as much as I like weighing you down, I also like being able to hold you." His hand cups the nape of your neck, the other one rests on the exposed skin of your back, between your shoulder blades. "You're basically a teddy bear, ma."
You smile at the loving thought, and decide to let him win, this time, because after almost an hour of just being awake, doing nothing but appreciating his company, your eyelids are starting to grow heavy. It's like he put some sort of spell on you. You feel the tiredness seeping into your body, anew, with no difficulty at all. You know that after a few minutes of him stroking your back, he'll be asleep just as quickly as he was when he was lying on you and you will catch up to him in no time, because those slow, gentle motions, are fueling your sleepiness like he's manually rubbing in some sort of remedy that will knock you out.
You don't know when you fell asleep or when Toji stopped rubbing your back or when he fell asleep, again. All you know is that at some point in the continuation of your sleep, he handled you like the teddy bear he said you are. He flipped you both onto your sides and pulled you into his chest.
"Hm?" A dazed, barely conscious hum from you, when you're being adjusted so that your face is pressed against his neck.
"Shh, go back to sleep."
#toji#toji fushiguro#fushiguro toji#jjk toji#jujutsu toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji x y/n#toji x you#toji x reader#toji fushiguro x y/n#toji fushiguro x you#toji fushiguro x reader#fushiguro toji x reader#toji fluff#jjk#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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the way you felt in my arms | kimi antonelli



requested? : yes! ‘hey there! could you pls write one where reader is ollie’s sister and kimi and her have been sneaking around dating for like 6 months or so. and then ollie catches them.’
summary : an accidental sleepover exposes your secret relationship with kimi to your brother
disclaimers : second pov (you/your), bearman!reader, rather fluffy in the beginning, not proofread
word count : 2k
a/n : thank you for the request! I love writing for kimi atm, so if anyone has any kimi (or ollie) requests send them in bc they are likely to get done fast lol
yes, this is reposted, I’m switching my accts around

MEXICO GP WEEKEND
When Ollie had first introduced the two of you, his little sister and his best friend, he made it pretty clear that he didn’t want anything to happen between you two. You and Kimi had clicked instantly, finding you had a lot in common, and it didn’t take long for your friendship to grow into something more. You were hesitant to get into a relationship with Kimi though, knowing how upset Ollie would be, but that didn’t last for long. Some flowers and a promise to keep it secret was all the convincing you needed.
That's how you found yourself in Mexico, standing outside of Kimi’s hotel room at 10:30pm on a Thursday, blanket and snacks in hand. You quietly, and quickly, knocked on the door, adrenaline high as you glanced at the door to the right, which was where your brothers room was. You had gotten pretty good at sneaking around in the past six months, but you were still nervous of your brother finding out every time you did.
You worries quickly melted away as the door opened and you were met with a large smile. You matched his smile, quickly making your way into his hotel room. You set your blanket and the snacks you had grabbed from the corner store on his bed, then turned towards Kimi. His hair was damp, a few curls splayed across his forehead, and he was dressed comfortably.
“Hi,” Kimi said as he made his way to you, arms wrapping around your waist. Your arms instinctively reached up to wrap around his shoulders, and you could feel him relax under your embrace. He pulled back after a moment, and it was then you could see how tired he was. Your eyes softened as you reach a hand up to run through the back of his damp curls.
“You look tired, do you want to reschedule?” you asked, to which Kimi quickly shook his head to. You gave him a small smile, but you couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty because you knew he had had a busy day with media duties and team meetings, and he had to be at the paddock early tomorrow. “Are you sure? It's okay,” you added.
“No, no,” He said, placing a quick kiss on your forehead, before stepping around you to the bed, though his hand found yours and he pulled you with him. “And, I have your favorite movie,” he added, turning to you with a wide smile as he turned his laptop towards you to show it already loaded up on the screen.
Your heart swelled at the small action, seeing your favorite movie, which you knew Kimi was not a fan of. “You hate that movie,” you said with a laugh, following him around the side of the bed, grabbing your blanket in the process.
He flashed you a sheepish smile, pulling you onto the bed with him. “Yeah, but you love it,” he said, his tired eyes finding yours. You both cuddled up under your fluffy blanket, his arm wrapping underneath your waist and your head leaning on his chest. He grabbed his laptop, placing it where you could both see the screen, then played the movie.
It was quiet nights like these that you cherished, nights that were becoming too far between for both of your liking. It was rare either of you went on public dates, trying to hide your still new relationship from both the media and your brother. You hadn’t originally set out to hide it from Ollie for as long as you had been, but the more Ollie noticed how close you two had gotten, the more he doubled down on not wanting you two to be anything more than friends. You did plan on telling him soon, but for the time being both you and Kimi loved that your relationship was just yours. The sneaking around, only seeing each other after dark, stealing glances from afar, kisses behind closed doors; it was exhilarating.
Not even ten minutes into the movie, you had looked up to comment on something, but saw Kimi was asleep. His features were calm and he looked so relaxed, you couldn’t help the small smile that made its way across your lips. You stayed like that, just admiring your sleeping boyfriend, for a few more minutes, before reaching down and closing the laptop, moving it to the other side of you guys. As comfortable as you were and as much as you wanted to stay, you knew you couldn’t. All your stuff was back in your room, and Ollie would be looking for you in the morning.
As carefully as you could, you tried to slide out of Kimi’s arms without waking him. You had nearly managed to when you felt his once loose grip on your waist tighten before pulling you back to your previous spot. You chuckled as you looked up, meeting his tired, still half-asleep, eyes.
“Stay?” he asked quietly, his voice only a whisper. You smiled, but shook your head, knowing that you couldn’t. Kimi sighed, but didn’t move.
“Love, I can’t,” you said, chuckling as he huffed. “I don’t have any clothes,” you added.
“Wear mine,” Kimi said back, eyes now closed as his hand gently ran up and down your side.
“Oh yeah, I’m sure Ollie would love to see me rep Mercedes,” you retorted, earning a small chuckle from Kimi.
“He wouldn’t suspect a thing,” he joked, earning a quiet laugh from you. A short silence fell between the two of you, and for a moment you had thought Kimi had fallen back asleep. After a moment, he spoke up again. “You’re so relaxed, I can feel it. You don’t want to leave,” He said, still trying to convince you to stay.
You looked up again, seeing a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and couldn’t help the smile that then tugged at yours. You laid your head back on his chest, pulling the fluffy blanket back around your body.
“No, I don’t,” you admitted. You didn’t plan on staying the whole night, just until Kimi fell back asleep, but it seemed that wasn’t going to happen unless he thought you were staying.
Or at least, that was the plan.
But the longer you waited in the dark and quiet room, cuddled up to Kimi, the more your eyelids began to droop. Every time you were sure Kimi had fallen back asleep, he’d mumble something to you or move his hand up and down your side again for a short time, letting you know he was still awake. Eventually, you just couldn’t keep you eyes open any longer, and you eventually drifted off to sleep.
You were startled awake by a loud banging at the door, followed by a shouting voice. You picked your head up, tired eyes meeting a confused Kimi, who was patting around the bed for his phone. You looked around the still dark room, but paused when your eyes landed on the window, seeing the sky painted with shades of pink and orange. It was morning and you were still in Kimi’s hotel room.
“Kimi, we need to go!” a familiar voice shouted through his hotel door, followed by a series of loud knocks. It took you a minute before you realized the voice was your brothers.
“Shit,” you cursed, eyes wide as you turned to Kimi, who was mirroring your expression. You shoved his shoulder, trying to tell him to get up, while you gathered your blanket and jumped up from the bed.
“What do you want me to do?” Kimi asked in a not-so-quiet whisper, texting Ollie from his phone to say he’d be out in a minute. You folded your blanket in your arms, setting it in the corner of the room, before turning back to him, shrugging your shoulders.
“I don’t know,” you sighed, grabbing your phone to see a few texts and missed calls from Ollie. “Oh, he knows,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself but Kimi had overheard you as he was trying to quickly get ready.
“What?” Kimi asked, appearing at your side as you showed him the texts, which were a mix of ‘did you oversleep?’ and ‘where are you?’. His hand found your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe he doesn’t, you could just wait here until we leave,” he suggested.
“Maybe,” you said with a nod, although you had a feeling that your brother did know. You and Kimi had both been m.i.a all morning, it wasn’t that hard to put two and two together. “But you have to get going,” you said, helping Kimi gather his things. You leaned up, placing a quick kiss to his lips, before shoving him towards the door. You then quickly ducked behind the wall, sitting back down on the bed out of sight.
Kimi cracked the door open just far enough for him to be able to slide out, but was stopped by Ollie before he could. Ollie had his arms crossed, eyes moving from Kimi to try and peer into the room.
“Who were you talking to?” he asked, looking back down at Kimi, who was shaking his head.
“Uh- myself?” he said as more of a question, trying again to step out of the room, but the taller brunette across from him didn’t budge.
“Mate,” Ollie began, an unamused look on his face, “is my sister in there?”
Kimi was silent for a moment, clearly not expecting that to be one of the first questions Ollie asked, but that was all the answer he needed.
You buried you head in your hands, sighing. This was not the way you wanted your brother to find out about your relationship. You stood up, figuring that the cat was already out of the bag, and made your way over to the door, pulling it fully open. Your eyes met Kimi’s momentarily, and your hand found his.
“Look, I can explain,” you started, looking up at Ollie, trying to read his body language, which was seemed to be displeased. He simply shook his head, his eyes darting between the two of you.
“How long?” he asked, eyes now locked on yours.
“Um- about six months,” you mumbled after a moment, your eyes darting to the floor. You felt Kimi gently squeeze your hand, catching your attention. “I’m sorry Ollie, we were going to tell you eventually.”
“Eventually? In another six months?” Ollie asked with a slight scoff, and for a moment it seemed like he was actually upset. He paused, a sigh leaving his lips as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t care, it’s just weird,” he said, and almost instantly a tiny weight felt like it was lifted off of your chest.
“Actually?” Kimi asked, having expected a completely different reaction to his best friend finding his little sister in his hotel room.
“Yeah, I guess,” Ollie said, crossing his arms again. “We’ve got to get going,” he added, looking at Kimi, who quickly nodded his head.
“Yeah, yeah,” Kimi said, turning to you. “I’ll see you at the track?” He asked, seeing as you still had to stop back at your room to get dressed and ready for the day.
You nodded your head, turning to Ollie. “Be nice,” you said, giving him a small glare, as you knew Kimi was about to get a lecture from him on their way to the track.
Kimi gently tugged on your hand, catching your attention, and placed a quick but sweet kiss to your lips.
“Woah- I do not want to see that!” Your brother exclaimed, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes as he turned around, causing both you and Kimi to chuckle.
Ollie wasn’t entirely happy about the idea of his little sister dating his best friend, but as long as you were happy, and he didn’t have to see any pda, so was he.

masterlist | requests are open
#jennwritesf1#kimi antonelli#andrea kimi antonelli#kimi antonelli x reader#kimi antonelli x you#aka12#ka12#ka12 x reader#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x female reader#bearman!reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 one shot
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Chase Me | Leah Williamson x Reader



synopsis: you ask you very atheletic, footballer girlfriend to chase you-- for a tiktok video
wc: 1k words
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
The sky is still tinged with a hint of pink, and the road is mostly empty, save for a few scattered sounds—a bird, the distant hum of a car.
You stretch, lunging from side to side. You stand at the edge of the sidewalk, one foot up on the pavement, leaning into the stretch until you feel that familiar pull along the back of your leg.
Then you switch sides, easing into the stretch onto the other leg, just as your girlfriend comes up from beside you.
"baby, this is silly"
You turn to her, a small smile already plastered on your face upon seeing the unamused expression on hers. Despite her words, there was no hint of malice in her voice.
She's stood just outside the camera's view, boots scuffed from the last practice session, hands on her hips like she owned the whole bloody pitch.
“I’ll catch you easily,” Your girlfriend said, her voice almost lazy in tone. It wasn’t just a bit of banter—it was a warning, delivered with the calm of someone who knew exactly how the game would go.
You breeze past her. "that's what makes it fun, lee"
She clicks her tongue. "I can't believe I let you convince me to do another one of your tiktok videos"
Reaching up to tighten your ponytail, you eye her as she begins to do her own stretches. Despite your girlfriend's initial reluctance, you knew it would only be a matter of time until she agreed. Leah was competitive, and she would never turn down a challenge.
She's dressed in her nike training top, and her training shorts. Her legs were still tan from your latest getaway to Nice, and she was wearing her favourite pair of trainers-- the same trainers she wore during training for her professional football job.
Glancing at the nike trainers on her feet, you were starting to have second thoughts. The whole point of the trend was to challenge your partner to a foot chase-- for no particular reason really. Most of the people who participated had partners who were police officers, in the military, firefighters etc.
Having an athlete girlfriend who ran and chased balls for a living-- yeah this video was going to be 5 seconds long, 6 seconds if you're lucky.
But you weren't about to admit that to her.
You take a deep breath, finishing your last couple of stretches, before standing up to your full height. Jogging over to your phone that was perched on a tripod, you press the red record button before you move over to the side.
"okay so im gonna run--"
"and i have to count to 10 before I chase after you-- i got it, baby"
Glancing at her, Leah had that familiar look on her face. She was clearly in no rush-- like she could already see how it would play out, the timing, the run, the moment she'd close the distance. It was all there, lined up in her head like a match she’d already won.
All that was left was the wait.
Making sure the record button on your phone was on, you flash her a quick smile, before you launched forward.
No build-up—just that sharp push off the ground, your legs pump fast, harder than ever before. The air claws at your face, whipping past your ears. You don't even dare to look behind you because you know it will only slow you down.
Your feet slap at the pavement, you can already feel your lungs get tighter but you don't stop. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, barely keeping up.
You hear the sound of another set of feet pounding faintly behind you.
Leah was already running.
She wasn't chasing you for this silly little tiktok challenge-- she's chasing you like she's going to win whatever this was. She’d probably already read your run, knew the angles, and she probably had that smug glint in her eye like she’d already headed the ball past the keeper.
You steal a glance over your shoulder and there she is—focused, fast, her blonde ponytail snapping behind her. She’s not laughing. Her eyes are locked on you, sharp and blue, and you know that look. You’ve seen it on the pitch. During matches. At the gym.
It’s game over.
“Oh, bloody-- fuck-- come on,” you gasp out, trying to hold your lead, but she’s already closing the distance like she’s barely trying.
“Shouldn’t have started this,” she calls out, voice steady despite the speed. She’s barely winded. Of course she’s not.
You push harder, legs screaming now, but she’s too fast. She doesn’t really thud against the pavement like you do. She glides. Like on water. And within seconds, she’s right there, then—
“gotcha!”
She ends your fun as she barrels into you from behind, her laugh loud and husky as she throws her arms around your shoulders. You try to gasp out a protest, but she’s already trapping you in her arms, locking you against her body with no room to escape.
She's grinning now, cheeks flushed rosy, breath coming in sharp but still controlled breathes.
You double over, laughing between gasps. “Fuck-- I really thought I had that”
"You did good, baby" Leah nuzzles into the side of your neck, breath coming in soft pants against your skin. "But you can't outrun a footballer"
You shake your head, still catching your breath. But you let yourself sink into her and she gladly steadies you, welcoming your weight in her arms.
Leaning back, you throw your head back to rest it against her shoulder, smiling when you feel her kiss the side of your head.
“I thought maybe you would slow you down for me” You admit, taking her hand that was wrapped around your waist to bring it to your lips, giving the back of her hand a kiss. "s'not fair"
She leans in close, voice low and cocky. “fuck no”
Leah grabs your chin, turning it towards her. "Now give me a kiss for having to endure your stupid tiktok trends"
Your heart was still pounding erratically and you were still trying to catch your breath, but all you could focus on was her.
You smile, leaning in closer. "what if i don't want to?"
There came that familiar smirk. The same one she flashed just before the chase began; like she knew exactly how this was going to play out. Like the ending was already etched in her mind.
"i know ya do."
the moment ends exactly like how Leah predicted.
With your lips on hers.
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
another leah fic WHO ELSE CHEERED (i reallyyyy hope yall did otherwise i will be sad)
I also really hope you guys enjoyed this fic because this one is probably one of my favourite short blurbs that I’ve ever written lol
any plans this summer? for me, i'll be here writing fics lol
hope you're all taking care of yourselves x
-- butter
#leah williamson x reader#leah williamson#woso x reader#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso community#woso#my fics#leah williamson fanfic#leah williamson imagine
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Commit To The Bit

Note: No one requested this, but this wonderful idea was bounced between @0bticeo and I, so thank them if you enjoy this as well. Now, let's see what we're working with...
Synopsis: You didn’t mean for it to happen like this. It was supposed to be a dare—something stupid to loosen Mark up after another brutal week of being the galaxy’s most reluctant savior. Just a strip tease. Just a joke. But Mark Grayson commits. To everything. Now, he's challengeing you to survive it.
Warnings: Smut, Mutual Pining, Oral (Male and Female recivieing), Mark Is a Messy Cummer, Fingering, Anal Play (F recieving), Position Changes, Dirty Talk, Light Power Play, Dom/Sub Dynamics, First Time, Switch!Reader, Switch!Mark Grayson, Strip Tease, Game Night Turned...
Mark Grayson x Fem!Reader
WC: ... 2.9k (I'M SORRY I GOT EXCITED)
You hadn’t expected to become part of Mark Grayson’s orbit.
You weren’t a Guardian. You didn’t wear a cape, have laser vision, or scream through the sky with sonic speed. You didn’t even have a power unless you counted being chronically online, emotionally intelligent, and just competent enough not to die during a superhuman incident—mostly from luck.
But Mark had saved your life one too many times—not out of obligation, but with this ridiculous, righteous fury in his eyes, like it personally offended him that you were ever in danger. And after the last near-apocalypse (there’d been three that year—you were starting to rank them like earthquakes), you became… tethered.
Not officially. Not in a superhero-has-a-sidekick kind of way. You were more like a ghost in his civilian life—always nearby, always grounding. The one who read him his Seance Dog comics when his hands were still red and rattled from battle, the one who stayed up all night patching his busted hoodie and pretending the sound of his knuckles cracking didn’t bother you.
He was fraying, and you saw it. Everyone saw it, but no one could tell him to stop. Not his mom. Not Eve. Not the Guardians. So you said, “If you won’t rest, you’re going to play.” He squinted. “Like, fetch?” You pause, lips curling excitedly. “Like games. Like dares. Like something dumb and reckless that doesn’t involve space warlords or mind-controlling aliens.” You meant it as a joke. Yet, two weeks later, you were at his place on a Friday night, watching Mark lose at an increasingly feral round of “Truth or Dare Jenga” that had been invented solely to get him to relax.
He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, hoodie sleeves shoved up to his elbows, hair soft and messy from where he’d run his hands through it a hundred times. He’s glowing. Not in a superhero way—in a boy-who’s-smiling-for-real way. That glow? That was rare.
There are wrappers everywhere. Empty soda cans. Heat radiates off of him in waves, because Mark Grayson runs hot, body temperature just a little too intense even at rest—like a sun flaring under skin.
“Alright,” you say, plucking a block from the Jenga tower. It slides out with a whisper. On the underside, scrawled in black marker: DARE: Lose a piece of clothing.
You grin. “Mark.” He narrows his eyes, shoulders slouching. “No way.”
“You lost, my dude.”
“I’m not taking my pants off.”
“No one said pants! Could be socks, could be your watch. Could be your hoodie.”
“Pfft. Lame.”
He leans back, too cocky and boyish. “What if I make it interesting?” You raise an eyebrow. “Interesting how?” Mark’s grin falters—just for a second, nervousness creeps in—and then he returns, crooked and reckless. “What if I… y’know.” He gestures vaguely. “Did a little striptease instead.” You stare in a stunned silence, mouth agape in what could only be described as an expression caught between a grin and disbelief. He stares back, then laughs too fast and far too loud. “I’m kidding.” “Are you?” You don’t know why you say it. Maybe it’s the soda-sugar buzz in your blood. Maybe it’s the way his cheeks flush, hot pink all the way to the tips of his ears. Or maybe —definitely— it’s the way your brain short-circuits when you imagine it. The slow reveal. That ridiculous, ripped body under all the nerdy-cute layers. You’ve seen him in action. Fighting, bleeding, and almost dying. But this? This would be intimate in a whole new way. He opens his mouth, maybe to deflect. Maybe to say “What?! no!” But what comes out is, “Alright. Fine.” The lights are dim. Not dramatic—dim. Just lazy, golden, Friday-night-dim. A song buzzes from your speaker—some R&B tracks you’d been playing ironically earlier, and now it’s betraying you with slow, sensual bass. Mark stands and promptly freezes. “…Do I need a pole or something?” he mumbles. You cackle, leaning back against his bedframe. “Just your awkward ass and commitment.” He glares playfully, then closes his eyes for a second, like he’s mentally preparing for battle. The sweater comes off first—slow, theatrical, too much. It gets caught halfway over his head, and he swears—arms flailing as he almost knocks over the Jenga tower. You’re crying from laughter. Then he —somehow—recovers and hrugs out of the pullover like it owed him money. His t-shirt rides up as he moves, and you get a flash of abs. He notices your ever-drifting gaze and pauses.
Your lips curl into an absentminded smirk. Oh, he absolutely noticed.
Now he’s getting into it. A little hip roll and some wobbly attempt at body waves that makes you snort but also sends your brain into a blender. There’s a vein on his bicep that mocks you. His shirt rides up again, and he keeps it there. Teasing.
What the hell is happening? He peels it off—slower this time. Eyes locked on yours, breath shallow. Like, maybe this started as a joke, but now it’s something else. The tension is thick, and heavy like the altitudes changed.
You swallow thickly, “Are you…” Your voice cracks. “Are you actually good at this?” Mark drops the shirt and steps forward. Just once. Close enough that you have to tilt your head to meet his eyes. “I’m good at lots of things,” he says, low, quiet, like a quiet confession you’re certain you’ve heard in film many times over. Yet, it makes your blood run hot.
You break the tension with a joke. The moment stretches like heat-distorted glass—fragile, bending, on the verge of snapping. Mark stands above you, shirtless, flushed, breath light in his chest. His hands twitch at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them—touch you, maybe. Run them through his hair or hold on to something so he doesn’t fall. Because falling? That’s what this feels like.
You’re still sitting, half-curled on the floor with your knees up, looking at him. Really looking.
He isn’t chiseled perfection—not like those magazine-perfect, muscle-bound meatheads. He’s real. He’s boyish, golden brown skin glowing under the lamplight, jaw sharp when he clenches it like that. There’s a faint bruise across his ribs and a scattering of freckles over his shoulders that look like stars. You want to trace them like a constellation. He swallows hard. You do too, subconsciously mimicking.
“That’s your big striptease?” you say, voice wobbly with the high-wire tension. “You looked like a winded pelican trying to shimmy out of your shirt.”
Mark blinks before breaking into a disbelieving chortle. He doubles over a little, pressing a hand to his chest like it hurts to laugh that hard — and maybe it does. Maybe it’s the first real laugh he’s had in weeks. Maybe it’s too much to feel something this alive in a room that isn’t soaked in blood or guilt. “You’re such a dick,” he says through breathless chuckles. You grin. “But I’m right.” He rolls his eyes and drops beside you with a thump. His bare shoulder brushes yours. The skin-on-skin contact shoots straight down your spine like a live wire. Your body knows what your heart won’t say.
And Mark? He knows too. Because after the laughter fades, the silence left behind is thick. His smile lingers, but it’s softer now, much quieter. His thigh rests against yours, and he doesn’t move it. He shifts, just enough to look at you. And you know… You know without words that the game’s over, but something else has started.
“You really think I looked that bad?” he asks, mock hurt. “I think you surprised yourself more than me,” you reply, smiling to yourself. Mark tilts his head. His eyes—dark, warm, and wanting—scan your face. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. His voice is lower now.
“I didn’t think I’d… get into it.”
There’s a pause. He looks down, hand flexing, resting against his knee. Its close to yours, nearly grazing. “You know what’s messed up?” he murmurs. “I wanted you to look away. I thought I did. But then you didn’t. And now…” Your breath catches. “… Now I can’t stop thinking about the way you looked at me.”
You say nothing; your hand simply finds his. Just fingertips at first—a brush and a question. He answers with stillness and a held breath. Not rejection, nor resistance, but rather waiting for what happens next.
It's not what he says; it's how he says it. Mark Grayson isn’t cool. Not like the heroes in the comics, not like Omni-Man pretended to be. He’s awkward and earnest. He fumbles through jokes and runs into danger headfirst and leaves pieces of himself behind every time. But right now? He’s sitting beside you shirtless, vulnerable, and so, so willing. And you can’t stop looking.
You reach out. Not dramatically, just like gravity’s doing it for you. Your fingers trace the curve of his shoulder and drag lightly down his chest. Over smooth skin, tight muscle. You feel him tense—just a flicker—but he doesn’t pull away. His chest rises too fast, still shallow, like his heart doesn't know when to settle.
He leans in, words a faint whisper. “I’m not gonna be able to walk this off, am I?” He says quietly, like it’s funny, but it isn’t. His voice wavers at the edges, threaded with something rougher, excited, and anxious. Lascivious. You hum, fingers dragging lower. “You were the one who committed to the bit.”
He huffs out a chuckle. “Yeah, and now I’m gonna commit a felony if you keep looking at me like that.” You glance up, his eyes already trained upon your face. Flickering between your mouth and your hand and back again. His lips are slightly parted, the flush creeping all the way down to his chest now. He's starving.
You drag your hand lower. His abs flex under your touch instinctively, almost defensive, like his body is reacting faster than his brain can control.
“Jesus,” he mutters. His eyes flutter shut for a second, then snap open.
“You’re not even doing anything.”
“Exactly.”
He makes a sound. It’s halfway between a groan and a laugh—embarrassed, aroused, and horrifically aware that he’s being undone with nothing but touch. But he doesn’t retreat. Instead, he leans toward you. Lips a breadth from yours. “I’m just saying,” he whispers, “if this ends in me blacking out from sheer thirst, I want it on record I was coerced.” “Oh?” you breathe.
“And what part of that was coercion?” His smile cracks crooked, and he gulps. “All of it. But I liked it.” Your hand drifts lower again, fingertips grazing just above his waistband. His abs contract hard, like they’re bracing for impact. Then, finally, finally, he moves. He reaches up, hand gentle on your jaw, and tilts your head just enough to look you full in the face. His thumb brushes the edge of your cheekbone, completely transfixed.
And the look in his eyes? It says everything. ‘I want you. I want this. I want to give in. But also—I want you to want it too.’ So you lean in, not for a kiss. Not yet.
Your lips brush his ear, and you whisper: “Finish the striptease, Grayson.”
You say it, and something breaks inside him. Mark sits frozen for half a second, like his brain has short-circuited. And then—slowly and deliberately—he pushes himself to his feet.
He’s shirtless already, but his joggers hang low on his hips, slung there like temptation incarnate. His body is a map of intention—broad chest still rising fast with every breath, flushed all the way down to the waistband. And when he hooks his thumbs into the sides, his eyes flick up to meet yours. Still awkward. Still him. But there’s heat behind that shy smirk now. Perhaps a promise.
“Didn’t realize the bit was that good,” he murmurs.
“You’re stalling.”
“I’m building suspense.”
He kicks off his socks with an undignified grunt—definitely not sexy—and you snort. The laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it, but it’s cut off fast when his fingers return to his waistband.
He doesn’t strip fast. He sinks into it. Rolls his hips just slightly, enough to tease. The joggers go low, and you swear you stop breathing. His thighs are carved like someone took Greek statue anatomy and gave it boyish charm. They’re strong and lean, and if you could, you’d trace the outlines with your tongue.
Underneath, he's wearing black boxer briefs that leave nothing to the imagination. The outline of him is thick, prominent, and barely contained. There’s a wet spot already forming where the fabric strains tight over his tip. And when his thumbs slip under the waistband of those, he actually hesitates. “Still time to back out,” he says, voice raspy, gaze flicking from your eyes to your mouth to the floor.
You shake your head. “Not a chance.” He exhales, shaky and disbelieving. Then drops them.
Mark now stands there, bare and completely reddened. Every muscle in his body is tense, like he’s waiting for judgment.
You rise to your knees where you sit on the floor, eyes trailing over him, devouring. His cock is perfect; thick, flushed, uncut, curving slightly toward his belly, the tip already beading precum. He’s trimmed but not too neat. It's raw, real, and hard as hell.
You reach for him slowly. Fingers light over the base, then wrapping around him with a gentle squeeze that makes his hips jolt. He gasps, “Shit—okay.”
“I haven’t even started yet,” you say sweetly.
“Don’t—” His voice cracks. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”
You do. You really do. You press a kiss to his hipbone, then another down the line of his thigh. Your tongue then traces a wet warmth between the divots of his femoral muscle, just until you slowly venture to his groin, his cock nudging your nose. His breath hitches. When you glance up, his eyes are molten—wide and starving.
“Lie back,” you murmur.
He obeys without question. Collapses onto the bed, back to the headboard, legs splayed open and already trembling. There’s a small patch of scars along his side from some long-healed fight, and your hand ghosts over them before sliding back to his cock.
You stroke him slowly. Grip twisting, thumb teasing the slit until his thighs shake. Fingertips gliding down its veins, thumb caressing his frenulum before you take him into your mouth without warning.
Mark screams—chokes on a curse as his hand fists in the sheets. His hips lift without meaning to, and you press him back with a hand to his belly. He’s heavy on your tongue, warm, velvety skin stretched over thick hardness, the kind of weight that commands attention. Each inch you take fills your mouth with heat, the head of his cock slick with the salt-sweet tang of pre.
“Fuck— oh my god,” he gasps. “You’re—how the hell are you this good?” You hum around him, mouth full, tongue dragging along the underside of his shaft. You go slow, almost cruel. Letting spit drip from your lips as you work him, glancing up through your lashes to watch him fall apart. He’s panting, one hand pressed to his forehead like he’s trying to hang on to reality.
“Oh my fucking god,” he groans. “Your mouth—your mouth is—you’re gonna kill me.”
“You’re being dramatic,” you tease, pulling off with a soft pop. His cock twitches in your hand. “You haven’t even seen dramatic,” he pants. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna blow so hard I end up in orbit.”
You laugh, but it melts into a moan as he brushes your hair back, thumb dragging along your cheekbone, reverent. “You’re unreal,” he whispers. “Seriously. Like… I used to imagine this, but I never thought—fuck.”
You go down again, this time deeper, bobbing your head with a slow, steady rhythm. Your hand strokes the base, twisting, teasing. Every time you swallow around him, his hips twitch, and his voice crumbles into wrecked little sounds. Just to hear more, you go deep—too deep—and your throat clenches around him; his body jolts. He jerks his hips back instinctively, one hand flying to your shoulder. “Shit, shit, I—fuck, are you okay?” he rasps, panic flashing in his eyes. But when you look up at him, spit-slick and needy, and go again? He groans, his head knocking back to the headboard. “Jesus Christ, don’t do that unless you’re trying to kill me.”
You are. You swirl your tongue around the tip and suck hard, his abs seize under your palm, sharp lines flexing in a desperate attempt to hold still. He doesn’t speak. Mark is too stubborn for that. But you feel it in the way his breath hitches, in the shudder that travels from his ribs to his thighs, in the stifled grunt he bites into the back of his wrist like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.
His forearms are locked, veined, and trembling as he grips the sheets so tightly they threaten to tear. His legs shift restlessly, heels dragging across the mattress, trying to ground himself against pleasure that’s pulling him apart thread by thread. His whole body feels like it's teetering on a wire strung over fire—and your mouth is the heat below.
His scent fills your lungs, soap and sweat and something sharp with adrenaline. There’s heat radiating off his skin in waves, his inner thighs trembling beneath your palms. You swear you can feel his pulse against your lips, racing, thick, and desperate. He’s letting you do this. Letting you see him like this. And Mark Grayson? Doesn’t give that to just anyone.
His thighs tense under your hands, and god, you feel it—the moment he surrenders, like you’ve cracked the sun open and let it melt down your throat. And all you can think is yes—this, this, this—let me give until I can’t speak, until he forgets his own name in my mouth. You’d watch him cum again and again just to chase the aftershock it sends down your spine. Just as you’re relishing in his squirming, his hands slide lower. Long arms reach out, wrapping around you. One arm across your back, anchoring. The other? It drifts. Your hips are raised—knees bent, ass up, pressed against his thigh. His fingers ghost over the curve of you—light, just exploring.
Then he spreads you gently. Thumb dragging down… and lower.
When his fingers stroke between your legs, you groan, his hands parting through the fabric of your shorts and panties.
“Wet already?” He breathes. “I didn’t even get to return the favor yet.” His words were nearly a whine.
You try to say something smart—snarky. But all that comes out is a gasp when two of his fingers slip in. He’s good at it—scissoring slowly, curling just right. The heel of his hand pressed against your clit with a maddening rhythm. “You’re so tight, baby,” he murmurs. “How are you this perfect?” Then you feel it. His other hand slides lower. Down your back, calloused fingers traveling between the fat of your ass, and you know what he’s doing.
His voice drops—filthy and sweet, but dangerous. “Too much?” he whispers, fingertip circling gently, slick with spit. “Not even close.” He chuckles, channeling whatever confidence he might have left. “Good.” Because then he slips his thumb in—just barely—while still curling two fingers inside you deep. The pressure is blinding, intimate, and overwhelming.
Your moan cracks into a whimper, and he feels it—loves it. “Oh my god, look at you,” he groans. “You’re gonna make me fucking lose it.” And you do. You ride his fingers like they’re the only thing keeping you tethered to earth, mouth hot around him as he starts to thrust gently into your lips, hips flexing—then you pull off with a pop, panting, eyes blown wide.
“Gonna come like this, Mark?” He grins, panting through trembling, weak breaths, “Only if I make you first.” His fingers go deeper. His thumb presses firmer, and you realize neither of you stands a chance.
He’s close and you know it. His cock twitches in your mouth, thighs tensing like coiled springs. He’s gasping now, mouth open, hips stuttering with each flick of your tongue, each twist of your wrist. “Fuck—I’m gonna—shit—I’m gonna come,” he gasps, voice cracking like a live wire.
But he doesn’t pull back. He grips the headboard with one hand, the other fisted in your hair, holding—not forcing, just anchoring. His body goes rigid, spine curving. “Oh—fuck, I—” His voice cracks in the middle of the moan as he comes hard, cock throbbing in your mouth. Hot, thick spurts spill onto your tongue, messy and uncontained. He curses again, hips twitching as the pleasure wrecks him, face flushed, jaw slack with disbelief, toes curling as his eyes are screwed shut.
You swallow as much as you can, some dripping down your chin, and the look he gives you? Absolutely ruined. “I—I didn’t mean to—shit, I couldn’t—” He pants, voice dazed. “Don’t worry,” you murmur, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “We’re not done.” Because while he’s still gasping, trying to catch his breath, your hips grind down into the bed, slick and aching. And he sees it, and being the stubborn man he is, snaps back into action.
He flips you before you can blink—grabs your thighs and pulls you onto the bed, mouth already between your legs before you can protest. Its ravenous. He slides down your body like it’s something sacred, nuzzling between your thighs with a soft groan like he’s relieved to be there. His big hands hook under your knees, pushing them wide until you’re spread open, dripping and flushed and glistening just for him.
“Oh my god,” he whispers—voice so raw with awe that it hurts. You nod, barely able to speak, but he’s not looking for words. He’s already licking his lips, fingers digging into your thighs as he lowers his face to you. The first lick is tentative. Experimental. A long, slow drag of his tongue from your opening to your clit, like he’s learning the map of you one swipe at a time. The groan he lets out after is devastating. Pure sugar coating tongue as he nudges that honey-woven pearl begging for his touch.
“You taste so good,” he mumbles into you, nose brushing your mound as he licks again, deeper, firmer this time, drinking from you like wine-filled gauntlet. “Jesus Christ, how are you real?”
His tongue works in messy circles—not perfectly skilled, not yet, but what he lacks in precision he makes up for with hunger. He eats you like he’s been fantasizing about this for months, and he has. You can feel the need in every flick, every groan, every desperate lap.
When his tongue finally finds your clit, your hips jerk. The sensation—hot, wet, pressure that’s just right—makes your back arch and a moan rip from your throat. Mark moans back, the vibration of it lighting you up like a fuse. “You like that?” he pants. “Tell me, baby. Tell me what you like.”
“Fuck, Mark—right there. Right there, just like that—” He nearly pauses, a muffled grunt settling in his throat, wrapping his arms under your thighs and dragging you closer until your pussy is pressed to his mouth. Held there, lips spread across his tongue.
You try to move, to buck up or pull away, but his grip is like iron. He keeps you right where he wants you, tongue flicking quick and firm over your clit while he moans like he’s the one being touched. “Fuck yes,” you gasp, one hand flying into his hair, your body trembling. “Just like that, holy shit—Mark, you’re so good, you’re so fucking good at this—”
He whimpers into your cunt like the praise feeds him. That smirk etching into your lips doesn’t miss him. “You gonna moan louder than me, Grayson? Or is this just you begging with your mouth full?” He breathes out a shaky moan into your cunt in response. His tongue dips lower again, licking into your entrance, then back up, sucking your clit between his lips, messy and hot and relentless.
You're grinding into his face now, shameless, and he takes it all. Lets you ride his mouth like he was made for it. He pants, chin soaked, lips swollen and smushed against your labia. “Come on, baby, I wanna feel it. Wanna taste all of it. Wanna make you scream.”
“Don’t stop now, don’t you dare fucking stop. I’m close—you look so pretty when you’re trying so hard.” Marks tongue gets sloppier, almost panting through the effort. He flattens his tongue and fucks you with it, then sucks your clit hard enough to send your mind reeling as you lurch forward, fingers bruising into your hips as he holds you down while you shatter. Your orgasm like fireworks against your nerves.
Every time he licks you, something coats his tongue that's so good it's obscene. That heady, sweet scent and everything he's ever fantasized about—has him rutting into the sheets without even thinking. Its humid, raw. His brain just shuts the fuck off the second your thighs tighten around his head.
You let out a guttural scream. His tongue works with a purpose, sloppy and greedy, groaning into your pussy like he’s starved. His fingers curl inside you again—those goddamn fingers, reaching that spot he’s already memorized. Calloused fingertips caressing the ridge of your walls, coated in cream with every drag.
Every twitch of your hips, every broken breath, wires into his nerves like lightning and he’s never needed anything more than the way you look when you’re about to come for him. He wants to drown in it, face buried, lungs empty, no god but the sound of you falling apart.
“You came for me,” he murmurs between licks. “Now I get to return the favor. Gonna make you fall apart, baby. Please. Gonna make you beg. It's gonna feel so good.”
He doesn’t stop until your thighs shake. Until your nails leave crescents in his shoulders. Until you come so hard around his fingers, your voice breaks in a sob of pleasure, your body curling in on itself like it can’t hold that kind of sensation. A slight, sheepish smirk etches into his lips as he watches you tremble and gasp. You scream his name, thighs shaking, hips trying to escape the overstimulation but he follows, licking you through it, sloppily, like he can’t stop tasting you.
He’s utterly lost. You gently pull his hair, raising his head to look at you. His face is flushed—slick ridden, eyes barely in focus, brows knitted upwards, and his tongue slowly traces the line of lips. His hips twitch against the mattress.
“Mmm, this is so much better than that magazine under your bed. Remember that one? With the brunette riding—” He choked at your words, daze fading into embarrassment as you guided him onto his back. His eyes and hands follow every shift, fingers twitching just a little too eagerly.
“Round two?” you tease, breathless. But before he can answer, a creak from the hallway. You both freeze. “… Was that—?”
“My mom,” Mark mouths silently, wide-eyed. You grin wickedly. “Bet you can’t stay quiet.” His jaw drops. “Are you kidding me right now?!” But you’re already lowering yourself onto him, the stretch making you groan as you sink all the way down until your thighs rest against his. His cock fills you perfectly, and the second he’s fully inside, you feel him twitch.
His hands clamp to your hips. He groans, quiet, and choked off. You rock once, he whimpers. “Stay quiet, Grayson.” He glares at you like he wants to fight it. But he doesn’t. Instead, he buries his face in your shoulder and lets you ride him. Slow at first, then faster. Deeper. His hips stutter up into yours, hands tight on your ass, flexing under you like he wants to take control, but he doesn’t.
Not yet. Not until you lean down and whisper, “Come for me again.”
Then he flips you. Pins you down. And fucks you so deep and hard the mattress creaks, your legs locked around his waist. Every thrust is an apology and a worship. He stays quiet with effort—sweat on his brow, biting his lip bloody—until you come again, groaning into the pillow. And when he finishes with a muffled moan into your neck, full body shaking, he’s whispering your name like it’s a prayer. A/N: Was this long as hell? Yes. Do I regret writing it? No. Let me know your opinion and suggestions, because.... my toes were curling while writing this. I'm not joking. (This was also based on how I'd believe Mark would use the dirty talk he's seen in porn, LMFAO.)
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#invincible#x reader#invincible show#invincible comic#mark grayson#fem reader#mark grayson smut#mark grayson fanfic#mark grayson invincible#invincible mark grayson#mark grayson x reader#mark grayson x you#invincible x reader#invincible x you#invincible smut#invincible season 3#invincible x reader smut#invincible x y/n
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ive been thinking... what about an argument that turns into smut that turns into fluff aftercare or something like that 🧐
listen to me - a robert reynolds oneshot
oneshot warnings: fingering, breast play, canon-typical violence, swearing, tension, mentions of blood, sir kink, praise kink, degradation, a smidge of spanking, slight dom bob, oral sex (fem receiving), aftercare, hurt/comfort, pissy bob, manhandling, bob is your teacher and u are low-key rivals to lovers
~~
Bob wishes you would just fucking listen sometimes. Yes, you were powerful. You could obviously do some serious damage.
But you weren’t careful.
You were reckless.
These thoughts orbited in his mind as he watched the cameras of the warehouse you were at. His eyes flickered from screen to screen, watching you compromise every second of time you had to gather data. He rubbed at his forehead in worry.
Of course Val had to send you in, little to no intel beforehand, and expected you to keep your chill and follow orders. That was always a bad idea.
Your pride was hurt when Bob had argued that you weren’t ready for a solo mission. Yes, you were the newest addition to the team. But that didn’t make you weak.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
You weren’t afraid to absolutely… smack down, when it was needed.
And to think, they had found you in a lab, chained to the wall, abandoned. But, your powers reflected those of Wanda Maximoff's, making you a huge asset. The Avengers could use another Scarlett Witch.
So Val turned that into a media stunt immediately.
Bobby was your teacher, his powers were the most similar after all. As your teacher, he saw how misguided your throws were, he saw the sloppiness of your upper-cut.
He knew the panic of being a new recruit, and it was crystal clear that you were not the most prepared option.
He saw how you overextended your legs when you kicked, caring more about the look of your moves then the power behind them. He knew the trace of your strength and how you misbalanced your magic and physical exertion. He was doing his best, okay?
“Watch those punches, sweetheart.” He would warn over the comms.
You grumbled back, “I don’t see you hauling ass out here Bobby.”
That mouth. That goddamn mouth you had on you.
So disrespectful.
He wanted to teach you a lesson.
“Just finish the mission Y/n,” he muttered, wincing at you taking another blow from a Hydra soldier. God, you were gonna get hurt if you didn't start playing it smarter.
“They are fucking everywhere,” you grunt as another fist meets your side. You throw the man across the home. His body cracks the wall behind him.
Well, so much for laying low.
“Get out of there Y/n! You have enough data for now.” Bob commanded. He could tell your energy was low, a very dangerous position to be in on a solo mission.
“Hold on. I think I see… is that Dmitry?” You gasp. Your heart stops, and you stiffen on instinct.
Bob’s eyes widen. Fuck.
"Y/n drop the damn mission. Get the fuck out of there!" Bob yells, slamming a fist down on the desk, the wood splintering from his stress. Goddamn it, quit while you can, sweetheart.
Even you falter. He can tell on the cameras as your body stills.
Dmitry had seen you, and he was coming right at you.
Your former handler, Dmitry Sidorov, was alive, and he knew the only kill-switch to your powers. He created you... and every horrible thing you'd done at the hands of Hydra, was his work.
You puff up your chest, "I'll handle this motherfucker." It was fake confidence, but you went with it. Bob yelled in opposition, ordering you to, "Stand down."
You raise your hand to your ear, and switch off the comms. Bob yells, and cracks three out of five screens from his pure anger. His eyes blaring golden. You were so frustrating, and now you were going to get yourself killed.
He immediately went to the safe car, pulling up your position and an outside camera to stay updated. He drove fast.
Don't you dare die on me Y/n.
Dmitry saunters towards you, flashing you the wicked smile he always had when torturing you. "Hello, pet." He sneered.
"You better back the hell off, Sidorov." You say, bile rising in the back of your throat. You were nervous.
He laughs, lowly and heartily, and takes another threatening step towards you, "You don't miss me, huh?"
Your eyes gleam, fury burns in your belly as you blast him with your magic, "Hell no I don't you monster." He is thrown several feet away from you.
You reluctantly turned on your comms again, but were met with silence.
I have to get out of here.
You start down the foyer, running towards the exit, and barrel down the stairs. Your ride was a mile off, and you were going to have to run.
"Not so fast darling!" You heard Dmitry yell from behind you, and you turn to see his position, but he's not in sight.
"Reynolds! I need eyes on Sidorov and fast!" You scream.
Bob, who had been silent, finally speaks, "On your six."
He was pissed, you could tell.
You turn and are faced with three guards. Sidorov seemingly took the exit.
Pussy.
Blasting one of them away, you kick the gun from the second guard's hand, and punch him hard. He grabs your arm and you kick him away at the stomach.
The third comes from behind, holding a knife to your throat, you laugh, and push against it, the blood drips down your neck as you grip his arm and flip you both to the ground.
You lean over and pistol-whip him with his own weapon. He stops struggling.
'Fuckkkk... that stings," you groan at the shallow cut at your throat.
"Keep moving Y/n, I'm coming to get you." Robert's voice crackles again, sounding more alert.
Your leg feels funny, and you look down to see blood welling by your knee, fuck.
You limp quickly, using some of your magic and adrenaline to keep running.
You see the safe car, and your eyes immediately flicker to Bob's face.
He is angry.
~~
When you're back at the tower, Bob carries you to the medical wing. You don't meet his eyes.
He is very careful of the wounds you've acquired, being gentle. His face tells a different story. I am so dead.
He hasn't said a word to you besides the basic medical questions he had to ask you. Making sure you weren't going to die on the way back.
His eyes were golden, and the vein in his neck was popped out. That was enough for you to know you were in major trouble.
He left you to get patched up, leaning down and whispering, "The roof. 2100. You had better not be late."
You gulp.
~~
The roof was chilly, and wind whipped at your new bandages. Shivering, you step out and look around. You see Bob sitting near the edge, was he smoking?
His hair was flopped down over his forehead, and he wore a loose jacket with sweats. He was mulling over something, His back was tense. You were so fucked.
You approach him timidly, but the second you take a step into his eye sight, he looks at you. His eyes are still slightly golden.
"Oh look, it's little miss 'doesn't follow orders'," he comments, expression unreadable. You helplessly explain, "I'm sorry Bobby. I got cocky. But it was Dmitry! For fucks sake I panicked!" Your eyes are wide and you're fidgeting. He notices.
His deadpan expression scares you, and he takes a long drag of his cigarette.
"Is that what you want me to file on your report, sweetheart? That you panicked? That you turned off your lifeline?" He growls, voice deep and laced with poison, standing back up. He stares you down, threatening.
Your brows furrow in anger, "Oh don't play the teacher card, Reynolds. It doesn't suit you well." You say with disgust, turning your face away from him.
Robert grunts and steps towards you, "Don't you dare run that fucking mouth at me, girl."
You whip your head around, to be met with his face in yours. Your breathe is short, hot, and angry.
His chin grazes yours, and you can feel the slight stubble there, rubbing against your face. I want to feel that stubble between my legs. No. You're angry!
You want to look at his lips, but you can't tear your eyes away from his. They stare into your very soul, as he picks you apart. Your noses bump and you finally speak.
"Oh yeah? What're you going to do about it, sir? Going to train me extra hard? Gonna give me homework?" You challenge, snickering.
He grips the back of your head and smashes your mouths together, grunting. You squeak in surprise, but kiss him back passionately, mouth open for him.
The kiss is desperate, hateful, and hot.
It was in no way a loving kiss, it was messy, teeth clashing and noses colliding. His tongue felt like fire as it dominated your mouth.
He wraps a hand around your neck, pressing down on the new cut you gained, and pushes your face away to whisper, "I'm going to teach you how to respect my orders, baby. Even if I have to spank you until the sun comes up." He growls into your mouth. You moan, wrecked.
He backs you into the door outside of the stairs, nipping at your collarbone as your hand searches for the handle. Once you find it, your both crash into the stairwell.
He picks you up again, throwing you over his shoulder like nothing, "Fuck this, I want you now."
~~
The next thing you know, you're on his bed, sprawled out and being crushed by his body. You let your hands roam. His strong chest feels rock hard under your palms.
You feel his back muscles, his shoulder blades, sharp, and strained with every movement of his hands on you.
He rips your shirt off, immediately latching his mouth to your breast and sucking hard. You moan loudly, and arch into him, ignoring the ache of your sore muscles.
He stares up at you from your chest, pushing one hand down your pants and rubbing at your mound over your underwear.
"Does that feel good, baby?" He grunts, using his other hand to hold your head still. He stares at every jolt in your eyes, every scrunch of your nose, every twitch of your mouth. He loves it.
You can only moan in agreement, and he snickers at how wrecked you are, "That's right, you can't even talk now, can you sweetheart? I'm gonna teach you real good, hmm?"
You watch his eyes glimmer at your submission. Who knew Bobby could be so hot like this? You nod wildly, and he smirks, continuing his actions.
He was often challenging in training, pushing you a little harder than comfort. It left you frustrated, panting, and slightly pained every time.
But here? Watching him stroke your pussy, his teeth nipping the skin between your breasts? Fuck, he was everything. His hair was a mess, and it stuck to his forehead from sweat. His hands were long and slender and just perfect. The veins made your eyes roll.
He finally sat back and ripped down your panties, admiring the mess you'd made.
"That's a good girl, making such a mess, and I haven't even put a finger in yet." He grunts, observing the way you were clenching around nothing. The praise made you gush. You were fucking His.
You groan, "Please Bobby, I need you." He smirks again, meeting your lust-blown eyes with his own, "Uh-uh, you were doing so well. What's my name baby?"
You flush, the blush running down your body, and pulsing deep inside. "Please... sir," You whisper, embarrassed.
He moans deeply at your innocent look, and pushes two fingers in without warning. You moan and your fists grab the nearest fabric as you bury your face into the mattress. He was so fucking hot.
He groans at your walls squeezing his fingers, "God, baby you are tight." He wants to pound you with his cock, but it doesn't appear you are ready for that yet. Look at this pretty girl, he thought.
My pretty girl.
So instead he fucks you slow and raw with his fingers, dipping his chin down to suck on your clit. You tasted divine. He moans into your pussy.
You scream and whine, crushing his face between your legs, absolutely drunk on him. He only fucks you harder. It spurs him on.
"Oh fuck! Oh fuck Bobby, I'm gonna, I'm gonna cum!" You scream as you wet his face with your arousal, soaking his fingers without warning. Bob keeps eating you out, finishing his meal.
He flips you over, and lands a harsh smack down on your ass. You let out another long moan. "That's for disobeying me." He grunts.
He flips you back, and pulls you into his arms, kissing your forehead, "And that's, for almost dying before I could kiss you." He smiles softly. You are beautiful. All spent and pleasured. You breathe slowly.
Everything with the mission could be figured out later. Now, he had you right where he wanted you. In his arms, at last.
"Let's go run you a bath, honey." He whispered into your temple.
Your head spun at how he could go from so dominate, to domestic in a heartbeat. You sighed, "Okay." Still exhausted from all the physical exertion. He was going to take care of you, it had been so long since that had happened with anyone.
For the first time. Your lessons felt like more than safety training, they felt passionate, intimate, loving.
You could get used to this.
~~
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST!!!! I hope you enjoy!!!
#robert reynolds#thunderbolts#bob reynolds#bob reynolds x you#fanfic#marvel#yelena belova#ava starr#bucky barnes#mcu#robert reynolds x you#robert reynolds x reader#bob reynolds smut#bob reynolds x reader#bob thunderbolts#sentry x reader#sentry#lewis pullman#request#john walker#alexei shostakov#marvel thunderbolts
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Angry Boys - Felix
Bronze Again?

Tags: unprotected sex, rough/angry sex, light humiliation and degradation, semi-public sex, possessive behavior, power imbalance (consensual), overstimulation/ mild dumbification, smut, MDNI
Word count: 1.5k
This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
ANGRY BOYS MASTERLIST
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
It started off stupid. Harmless.
Felix had just lost a match. Lost it bad.
You could tell it was over the moment his headset clattered onto the desk—tossed like it personally betrayed him. His bottom lip jutted out in a pretty pout, brows furrowed while he mumbled curses under his breath. Onscreen, his death recap played in slow motion, like it wanted to mock him, too.
From the living room, Changbin’s laugh cracked loud and sharp.
“Yo! Bronze Yongbok’s back, baby!”
Then Jisung chimed in, wheezing: “Uninstall, man. Even Hyunjin could out-frag you at this point.”
You were curled up on his bed, watching the drama unfold with mild amusement. Scrolling aimlessly through your phone, trying not to giggle.
But then you said it. The one thing you didn’t mean to say aloud:
“Maybe I should carry you next time, baby. Could boost you to silver—at least.”
The silence that followed?
Heavy. Absolute.
Your gaze flicked up just in time to catch Felix turning from the monitor, slow and mechanical. His brows didn’t move. His mouth didn’t twitch. But his eyes—those pretty, doll-like eyes—hardened into something unreadable. Cold. Controlled.
Like you’d just hit a switch you didn’t know existed.
“You think that’s funny?” he asked quietly.
You paused, phone still in hand, trying not to smile. “Kinda…”
His jaw tensed. Just once. “You’re teasing me in front of them?”
“Lix, I—”
You didn’t even finish.
He stood up.
Snatched your phone right out of your hand, tossed it onto the desk hard enough to make it bounce, then grabbed your waist with one hand and hauled you into his lap as he dropped back into the gaming chair.
Your heart raced. Your breath hitched.
This wasn’t playful.
“Felix—?”
“You like teasing me, yeah?” His voice dropped lower, now a hiss. His hand gripped the back of your neck, forcing you to hold his stare. “Let’s see if you think it’s still cute when I make this whole dorm hear how fucking diamond I can be.”
You didn’t even see him coming.
One second your shirt was still on—then Felix was yanking it over your head, fast and rough, tossing your phone aside like it disgusted him. You gasped as your back hit his chest again, body hauled into his lap like he owned you.
And god—he did.
“I said,” he growled, low in your ear, “you like teasing me, right?”
His fingers slid beneath your waistband, not even bothering with finesse. Your breath caught as he shoved your panties to the side and palmed your bare heat—already soaked. You tried to clench your thighs, tried to stop your hips from moving, but his legs were spread wide beneath you and you were pinned open.
The chair creaked.
From the living room, you could still hear Jisung laughing, Changbin talking over him.
They had no idea what was happening in here.
Not yet.
Felix kissed your shoulder, slow and mocking. “Door’s open,” he whispered. “Say something smart now.”
You froze.
He knew. He knew exactly what he was doing—what he wanted them to hear.
His hands gripped your hips and rocked you against his cock, still hard and straining in his briefs, dragging up along your folds. You whimpered, trying to hold it in—but that made it worse. He just groaned, biting down on your neck as you squirmed.
“Aw. Embarrassed now?” he teased. “Didn’t sound so shy when you were running your mouth earlier.”
You slapped a hand over your mouth, but he caught it and pinned it behind your back with one hand.
“Nope. They’re gonna hear everything.”
He tugged your shorts down just enough to get access—just enough to ruin you—and then he was pushing in. No warning. Just heat, pressure, stretch.
You cried out.
Loud.
Changbin’s laugh stuttered. Somewhere, something clattered.
Felix smiled.
“Oh, they definitely heard that.”
Your scream still echoed down the hallway when Felix shoved in all the way.
No mercy. No patience. Just punishment.
The chair slammed against the floor, jerking under every snap of his hips. Your thighs trembled on either side of his, one foot slipping off the armrest from how hard he was fucking up into you. Slick sounds filled the room—sticky, wet, obscene—and they were nothing compared to your voice.
Because you were loud. So loud.
And outside?
Not a single sound now.
Jisung had stopped laughing.
Changbin had gone dead quiet.
Not even a breath from the hallway.
But Felix wasn’t satisfied.
He fisted your hair and yanked your head back, growling into your ear, “Scream louder. Let ‘em know who fucking owns you.”
You shook your head, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes—not from pain, but from how much you needed him, how deep he was, how wrecked you already felt.
“Felix—Felix, please—”
“Please, what?” His teeth grazed your throat. “Please stop?”
You were panting now, moaning through your answer. “No…”
“That’s right,” he hissed, driving into you harder. “So take it. Take every fucking rank I’m giving you.”
He slapped your thigh, spreading you wider. Your legs twitched, overstimulated and locked into his pace. Your voice cracked on a cry, and then—
“Fuck!”
It ripped from your chest without your permission. Raw. Desperate.
A slam from somewhere down the hall. Footsteps scrambling.
Felix grinned.
“There it is,” he laughed, fucking into you harder. “Dorm’s finally listening.”
You reached back blindly, trying to grab his wrist—tap out, slow him down, something—but he only caught your arm and pinned it behind you again, pushing you down onto the desk this time, folding your body in half.
“Who’s bronze now?” he growled, hammering you into the wood.
You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even breathe through the way you were unraveling, overstimulated and crying his name.
Felix dragged your face up by the hair and made you look at the open door.
“You wanna tease me in front of them?” His voice was sharp, furious, filthy. “Let them see who you belong to next time.”
And just like that, you came again—loud, messy, broken.
And somewhere in the dorm, a door closed.
Maybe in horror.
Maybe in shame.
But you and Felix? Didn’t stop.
—
You didn’t remember falling limp.
One second you were full of him, legs shaking, throat raw from screaming—
The next, you were in his arms. Warm. Floaty. Boneless.
Felix held you against his chest, one arm locked around your waist while the other gently pushed your hair from your sweaty face. You could still feel him inside you, twitching with aftershocks, but he wasn’t moving now. Just keeping you close. Letting you breathe.
“Still with me, baby?” he whispered, his voice hoarse but gentle now.
You managed a nod—barely.
“Did so good,” he murmured, kissing your temple. “So fucking good for me.”
Your cheek pressed to his collarbone, heartbeat thudding wildly. You were exhausted, sore, thoroughly used—and so impossibly turned on by how soft he was suddenly being.
Then…
From down the hallway, a door creaked. A cautious footstep.
Felix grinned against your skin. “Thought I told them to shut the fuck up.”
You groaned. “Felix…”
“They heard every second of you begging,” he whispered proudly. “Bet they’ll mute their mics for the next week just to avoid hearing you again.”
Your face burned, burying into his neck. “You left the door open on purpose?”
“Maybe,” he smirked. “Next time, you gonna call me Bronze in front of the boys?”
“…No,” you muttered.
“What was that?”
You sighed, louder. “No, Felix.”
“That’s what I thought.”
He kissed your shoulder, easing you off his lap. His hands stayed on you, rubbing your back while he reached for a towel from his desk drawer—God help you, he had that shit ready.
As he helped you clean up, you glanced toward the door—still wide open.
“Do you think they saw—”
“Doesn’t matter,” Felix interrupted. “You’re mine. Let them hear it. Let them know.”
He tugged one of his oversized hoodies over your head, guiding your wobbly legs back into bed. Then he dropped a kiss to your thigh before climbing in behind you, arm draped over your waist.
“…Still wanna carry me next game?” he asked, lips brushing your ear.
You exhaled a laugh. “Not unless I want to die.”
“Smart girl.”
You didn’t say anything after that. Just lay there, chest rising and falling, still throbbing with aftershocks while Felix curled around you like he hadn’t just ruined you for life.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Authors note: Finally wrote something about the “Bronze” issue 😂 Guys guys! I need those notes to go uppppp! Gimme the likes, reblogs and comments thank you!!! Look out for the other members on the masterlist
Taglist: @tsunderelino @innieandsungielover @inlovewithstraykids @reignessance @jeonismm @sttnficrecs @herejusttemporary @krssliu @sagestarlight @kenia4 @miilquetoast @thackery-blinks @leeminho-hall @suga-is-bae @butterflydemons @inejghafawifesblog @malunar28replies @minchanlimbo @mal-lunar-28 @breakmeofftbr @itvenorica124 @slut4junho @deepblueocean97 @thequibbie @yaorzu-blog @imagine-all-the-imagines @just-bria @mischievousleeknow @mythicmochi @universeyuto @ifyxu @melanctton @thelostprincessofasgard @binniebb @sillylittlecat1 @darkwitchoferie @m-325 @headfirstfortoro @imseungminsgf @ihrtlix @vernorica123 @hwangjoanna @cinnomonz
#skz imagines#felix yongbok#felix fluff#felix angst#felix fanfic#felix smut#felix imagines#felix drabble#stray kids felix#lee felix#skz felix#felix x reader#felix#lee yongbok#stray kids yongbok#skz yongbok#yongbok smut#yongbok x reader#stray kids#skz fluff#skz smut#skz angst#skz fanfic#straykids x reader
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Pretty boy-W. Smith



Will smith x fem! Reader
Request: Can I request “open your mouth” with Smitty? Maybe with reader saying it to him🤭
Warnings?; slight smut, kissing, cursing, teasing.
Will’s chest heaved from where he sat against the headboard, thick hands gripping the sheets below him as he watched your fingers dip in and out of your wet core.
He couldn’t be mad honestly, he did it to himself. Forgetting your anniversary was a low blow and pushing you off to play his Xbox with Macklin was no better.
So when he walked in your shared bed room and found you with your fingers buried deep inside your cunt while you withered on the bed in pleasure, gasping his name with his shirt pushed up over your chest.
He couldn’t help the curse word that slipped from his mouth, but he was stupid to think you’d take pity on him. Allow him to climb in the bed next to you and finish you off on his cock rather than your much smaller fingers.
And that’s how he found himself in this position, helplessly watching as you now sat in front of him legs spread-Still moaning his name while you played with yourself.
And there was nothing Will could do about it, it was his punishment.
“Fuck will” you gasped feeling your high fast approaching watching as his blue eyes switched from the sight of your cunt back to your red face.
He could tell you were getting close by the way your toes began to curl, fingers sped up chasing something that was so close yet so far.
His cock ached in his shorts pushing against the cotton material he could feel the wet spot that had formed on his boxers from the precum.
“Come on baby, cum for me. I can see you’re almost there” he egged on from his spot watching as your thighs began to shake, your moans getting higher and higher.
And finally he watched as your body shook from the hit of your orgasm, hips rutting into your hand as you continued to fuck yourself through your high.
Will swore he could’ve cum at the sight of you alone your messy hair sticking to your sweat coated forehead, chest heaving, mouth open as you panted loudly.
And when he thought it couldn’t get worse your eyes locked with his and your fingers were slipping from your dripping cunt.
His breathing picked up when you began crawling up the bed and over his lap, a downright evil giggle slipping past your throat when you ‘Accidentally’ brushed his aching erection.
His eyes locked with yours as you sat over him your manicured fingers slipping into his blonde curls as you tugged his head back.
“Open your mouth pretty boy.” You instructed.
Will didn’t hesitate to follow your words, mouth dropping open allowing you room to slip your cum coated fingers into his mouth.
He couldn’t help the moan that escaped from him at the taste, his tongue moving against your fingers getting as much of a taste of you as he could.
The sight from above was hot watching as he sucked your fingers helplessly his fingers twitching on the sides of your thighs itching to feel your hot skin.
The blonde whimpered when you pulled your fingers away from him but it was quickly silenced by you crashing your lips onto his.
The kiss was dirty and messy, tongues fighting each other for dominance your fingers pulling hard on his soft hair while his gripped the skin of your thighs, holding so tight one might think you were trying to escape.
You didn’t pull away until you were both panting, the need for air apparent in the way your chests heaved.
Will tried to pull you back to him but despite his athletic abilities you were too quick for him, slipping from his hold and onto your shaky feet.
“Wait, W-where are you going?” He sat up quickly moving off the bed to follow you.
“To shower, and you’re not invited.” You shrugged dismissing him over your shoulder as you shut the bathroom door.
Will tried reaching for the knob however the noticeable ‘click’ of the lock sounded before he could turn it.
“Baby please, it was a mistake and I’m sorry it won’t ever happen again. Please let me in so I can make it up to you.” He begged through the wood.
He heard you sigh before answering him, “No, go bother Mack. Maybe he can help solve your little problem.”
“My problem is anything but little.” He grumbled.
“I heard that you ass!”
Wills head thudded against the door as he leaned against it, if this was the punishment he got after missing something he would make sure everything was put in his calendar from now on.
-
#will smith x reader#will smith imagine#will smith imagines#will smith hockey#will smith hockey smut#will smith hockey x reader#will smith hockey imagine#nhl#hockey imagine#nhl fanfiction#nhl imagine#requested
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NSFW kaiser hcs plsplspls omggg >.<
MICHAEL KAISER: NSFW Headcanons

a/n: i’ve been wanting to write these so bad but i needed the motivation so thank you anon lemme give you a kiss 💋
sorry this is so short 😓
BLUE LOCK M.LIST | requests are open! | enjoy 🦋
• kaiser is 100% the dominant one in bed, but that doesn’t mean he won’t let you top him. he’s a service top/soft dom (most of the time), so he’ll let you do whatever will get you off as long as he gets to participate.
• he loves being marked up. bite marks, scratch marks, bruises on his shoulders, hickeys all over his neck and collar bone, he could stare at himself in the mirror and drool at the sight of your work on him. especially likes the comments he gets from his teammates in the locker room, usually gives a half assed response or brushes it off. feels there’s no explanation needed, he simply fucked you so good you literally had to hold on for dear life and try to eat him lol.
• if you didn’t read my virgin!kaiser post here it is. if you did then you KNOW how i feel about about this topic. unpopular opinion: he is not a whore. kaiser would absolutely save himself for someone special, so chances are he lost his virginity to you. he’s done lots of foreplay with other people in the past, but he didn’t go all the way until he met you and when it happened he was hooked. kaiser has an insatiable libido but he does know how to control himself. just know that you’ll be getting tons of horny texts, nudes, phone calls just so he can hear your voice while he jerks off, he’s a menace.
• he is EAGER to learn about you and your body and every little thing he can do to make you squirm. would spend hours just touching and playing with you to figure it out. teases and edges you all the time (likes to edge himself a little too). wants you to tell him what you want, loves hearing you verbalize your sexual desires.
• will make you talk about sex in inappropriate situations. he’ll whisper dirty words in your ear and smile at you. dinner with the fam? “You’d look so pretty bent over this table.” tries to coax you into joining the mile high club any time you take a flight. he has absolutely no filter when it comes to talking about sex. will reminisce on last nights ministrations while you’re in the car, out to eat, whispering over to you at the movie theater. he’ll ask if you liked certain things he did, if you want to try something different, tell you yet again how good you were for him.
• he’s not a fan of toys aside from vibrators for you but i can see him being into some light bondage perhaps? he likes when he can fuck you and you can’t touch him or yourself.
• kaiser doesn’t like the idea of others watching you guys fuck but he likes the idea of them knowing he’s fucking you if that makes sense. wants you to be loud when there’s other people in the room next to you. makes sure his thrusts are hard enough to my the door or the bed shake and creek. he only does this if he’s around people you guys know. doesn’t want random people to know y’all are fucking but definitely like if he’s teammates or friends are around, rival teams too perhaps.
• this boy loves intimacy so much, as horny as he is, he likes to make sex with you special when he can. when he comes back from playing in another country, desperately yearning for your touch, he does everything in his power to make it the most romantic and passionate experience for you. he takes his time and keeps his pace at a cool medium, not too fast but he doesn’t drag them out too much. kisses everywhere the entire time, can’t take his lips off your perfect skin that he’s missed so much. can’t stand to see it without a single sign of him, so he’s marking you up along the way. moaning your name right into your ear and mumbling “i love you”’s into the crook of your neck. he’s going for as long as possible by the way, switching positions, eating you out for what feels like forever, he could go all night like this.
• he isn’t the kinkiest guy but he will try whatever you want to try. doesn’t mind if he has to be a little mean to you or even if he has to be a little submissive. really cares about sex being an enjoyable experience so he wants to make sure you’re both getting to explore your fantasies. i could see him being into roleplay a little ngl.
• i’m sorry but this man has a perfect dick. it’s like 5-6 inches, not too big not too small, his girth fills his length perfectly, he has a very slight upwards curve that prods into your sweet spots perfectly every time. he keeps himself excessively well groomed. when he gets undressed in front of you all you can do is stare in awe at how pretty he is. his shaft is the same pale tone as the rest of his skin, his veins aren’t very prominent and his tip is pink and cute???? Idk call me weird IDC he’s a pretty boy.
#blue lock#bllk x reader#blue lock headcanons#blue lock x reader#blue lock fanfiction#bllk imagines#blue lock x y/n#blue lock x you#bllk smut#blue lock smut#michael kaiser x reader smut#michael kaiser smut#michael kaiser headcanons#michael kaiser x you#kaiser x reader smut#bllk kaiser#blue lock kaiser#blue lock michael kaiser#kaiser x reader#michael kaiser x reader
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OMG reader is a babysitter for JJ and when reid goes and visit her kid he gets babyfever and just wants to creampie her
yes ofc I just got over my pregnancy scare!
cw: baby fever, soft dom!Spencer, oral (f!receiving), unprotected PIV (established relationship), creampie, domestic themes, possessiveness, slight breeding kink, aftercare
REQUESTS OPEN!
JJ was running late, unsurprisingly. A local case had them scrambling to close paperwork, and you were more than happy to help by watching Henry for the evening. He’d just fallen asleep after an exhausting hour of hide-and-seek and story time. His little hand had curled against your shoulder before you laid him gently in his bed, watching his chest rise and fall.
You loved babysitting Henry. He was sweet, polite, and easy. You didn’t mind JJ’s late nights either—her trust in you meant the world.
You were halfway through cleaning up blocks from the living room floor when a knock startled you.
You padded barefoot across the rug and cracked the door open.
“Spencer?”
He gave a soft, sheepish smile and raised a small paper bag. “JJ said you were here tonight. I brought dinner. Thought maybe you hadn’t eaten.”
You blinked at him, touched. “You thought right. Come in.”
He stepped inside, careful not to let the door creak. He looked… different here. Less stiff, more boyish. The cardigan and soft blue dress shirt made him look impossibly cozy. Domestic.
You couldn’t help the flutter in your chest as he looked around JJ’s house, eyes scanning the toys and coloring books scattered on the coffee table.
“She always tells me how much Henry loves you.”
“Really?”
Spencer nodded, setting the bag on the kitchen counter. “He once said you make the best dinosaur roars.”
You laughed, blushing. “That kid has too much dirt on me.”
You sat together on the couch, eating takeout out of plastic containers, the occasional baby monitor buzz drifting from the kitchen. At one point, Spencer’s eyes drifted to the hallway toward Henry’s room.
“Can I… see him? Just for a second?”
You paused, then smiled softly. “Yeah. He’s fast asleep. Come on.”
You led him quietly into the nursery, watching as Spencer leaned into the doorframe and gazed down at the little boy curled up under a blue blanket.
His face changed—eyes softening, mouth parting just slightly. His usual anxious energy had melted into something else entirely. Reverence. Wonder.
“He’s gotten so big,” he murmured. “I remember when he was born.”
You watched him, heart tugging.
“You ever want one?” you whispered.
He looked at you then, and something in his eyes flickered—like you’d flipped a switch he didn’t know he had.
“All the time lately,” he admitted, voice low. “It’s strange. I never used to think about it. But now I can’t stop.”
“Why now?”
He looked back at Henry, then to you, gaze dropping to your lips.
“Maybe because I finally found someone I could see it with.”
Your breath caught. The room was still, heavy with that quiet, loaded confession.
And suddenly you weren’t in the nursery anymore.
—
Back on the couch, neither of you was saying much, tension thick in the air. You could feel his gaze on you as you tucked your legs under yourself, playing absently with the hem of your shirt.
“You’d be a really good dad,” you said softly, glancing at him.
He didn’t smile. Not this time.
“I’d want to do everything right,” he said. “Be present. Be patient. I’d read all the research. Buy the safest crib. Cook every meal from scratch. I’d… hold them on my chest and sing them lullabies in Latin.”
You let out a quiet, breathless laugh. “Of course you would.”
He shifted closer. “But only with someone who’d love them just as much as I do.”
You turned toward him—and he kissed you.
It started soft, but quickly deepened, all the weight of longing pouring into the way his hands cupped your face, how his thumb grazed your cheek like he couldn’t believe you were real.
He kissed like a man who’d dreamed of this a hundred times and didn’t want to wake up.
When you gasped against his lips, his hands dropped to your waist, pulling you into his lap. You straddled him, fingers in his hair, heart pounding.
“I can’t stop thinking about you like this,” he whispered. “Here. In this house. Holding a baby. Wearing soft things and calling me home.”
You whimpered, rolling your hips instinctively. “Spencer…”
“I want to see you pregnant,” he groaned, lips dragging down your neck. “Swollen and glowing. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”
Your panties were soaked.
He slipped his hands under your shirt, fingers trembling slightly as he lifted it over your head. His mouth dropped open when he saw you—bare, flushed, pupils blown wide.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re perfect.”
His mouth latched onto your breast, sucking gently, tongue flicking your nipple until you whined. Your hips rocked again, pressing against the growing bulge in his slacks.
“Bedroom,” you gasped. “Or we’re not gonna make it.”
You led him down the hall like you belonged there. Maybe you would, one day.
—
JJ’s guest room was small, cozy, and dim. The second the door shut, Spencer had you against it, kissing you like he’d die if he didn’t.
You reached for his belt, but he caught your wrists, guiding you to the bed instead.
“Let me,” he whispered.
You laid back, trembling with need, and watched him undress. His shirt slipped off first—soft chest, pale skin, lean and familiar. He kissed your ankle, then your knee, then your thigh, spreading your legs gently.
“Stay quiet, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Don’t want to wake the baby.”
You nodded frantically as his mouth lowered to your soaked panties, dragging them down your thighs. The first swipe of his tongue was slow, savoring.
You clutched the pillow, biting it to muffle your cry.
He ate you like he meant it. Like your pleasure was a prayer. He licked deep, slow circles, flicking over your clit before sucking it gently into his mouth.
You came with a soft sob, shaking in his arms, and he kissed you through it—whispering praises against your skin.
“So good for me… so beautiful…”
He lined himself up without hesitation, eyes locking with yours.
“Ready?” he asked, stroking the head of his cock through your slick folds.
“Yes,” you breathed. “Please, Spencer…”
He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, groaning low when he bottomed out.
“Fuck, you feel like heaven,” he rasped. “So warm… so tight…”
You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply as he started to move. Each thrust was slow, deliberate—like he wanted you to remember this for the rest of your life.
“I want to fill you up,” he whispered in your ear. “Want to see you dripping with me.”
You whimpered, nails digging into his back.
“You want that too, don’t you?” he asked. “Want to be full of me? Walking around with my baby inside you?”
Your walls fluttered. “Yes—Spencer, yes—”
His pace faltered as he buried himself deep one last time, groaning into your shoulder. You felt him pulse inside you, hot and overwhelming.
He held you through it, hips rocking slowly until you both came down.
—
Later, he stayed pressed against you, hand resting on your belly like he could feel the future there.
“Someday,” he whispered. “If you want.”
You turned to him, brushing hair from his face.
“I think I do.”
He smiled, slow and real. “Then someday, it’ll be ours.”
You kissed him again, and in the next room, Henry stirred—but didn’t wake.
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#criminal minds x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#criminal minds smut#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x fem reader
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okay so juju and reader where juju is js down bad for this girl, if you look at her tiktok? reader. if she post on her story it has something to do with reader, she’s wiped asf for reader loving her in private and public. bonus if juju follows her around on the basketball court
Whipped Doesn’t Even Cover It
Juju x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

MASTERLIST | MORE
ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:Everyone knows JuJu Watkins is that girl on the court—but off the court? She’s completely down bad for you.
ɢᴇɴʀᴇ:Fluff, clingy obsession, public affection, basketball romance, social media vibes
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:Mild language, intense thirsting, TikTok-level public displays of affection
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ~

I swear, that girl is everywhere.
Every time I turn around, she’s there. Waiting. Watching. Hovering like she’s part of my shadow. Like she’s trying to learn how to move like me, breathe like me, be me. And she makes it look good. Never awkward, never needy—just present. Like I’m gravity and she’s stuck in orbit.
It started slow. I’d catch her glancing during drills, handing me my water bottle when I didn’t ask, offering to rebound for me like it was her life’s mission. Cute, right? Until I scrolled on TikTok one night and found a video of me walking down the tunnel set to slow R&B. Her caption? “She don’t even know I’d ruin my whole life for her.”
Five thousand likes in under an hour.
Then it was the reposts. Every selfie I posted, she shared it. Commented “my girl” like she had a title. One time I posted a gym pic and she tagged it with “this the reason my knees hurt.” I didn’t even respond—I just showed up to practice the next day wearing her hoodie like I was claiming her back. She didn’t say anything about it, but the way she smiled told me I’d just made her whole month.
And don’t let us play against each other in scrimmages. JuJu? She don’t guard me. She trails me. Like a heat-seeking missile. Even when the coaches yell at her to switch, she shrugs it off, eyes locked on me like, “Nah. I got this.” One time I said, “You know I’m not gonna go easy on you.” And she grinned and said, “You never do. That’s why I like it.”
Tell me how I’m supposed to keep a straight face after that?
Today in open gym, she didn’t even try to hide it. Wouldn’t stop staring. Every time I touched the ball, she perked up. When I hit a three, she clapped harder than the whole gym. I jogged past her once and caught her mouthing “goddamn” under her breath. Subtlety? Gone. She follows me around like I’ve got the answers to her soul. And honestly… I kinda do.
She waited for me after, too. I took my time in the locker room just to see if she’d stay. She did. Sat right outside, scrolling through her phone like it didn’t matter that it was already dark and cold as hell. I walked out, hair wet, hoodie half-zipped, and she stood up like she’d just seen a miracle.
“You hungry?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Always.”
She opened the door for me, real quiet. Like we were in a movie. Like I was something delicate. But there’s nothing soft about the way she looks at me. Not sweet. Not innocent. Hungry. Like she’s waiting for permission to love me harder.
And the crazy part?
I haven’t told her no. Not once.

It got worse—or better, depending how you look at it—when we all went out.
Just a few teammates, chill spot, some plates, some laughs. I didn’t even invite her directly. Somebody else mentioned it in the group chat and JuJu just… showed up. Like always. No questions, no hesitation. She pulled up in sweats, slides, and a fitted hat like she’d been ready all day.
I sat down at the table and before I could even take off my jacket, she was already pulling the chair out next to mine. Ordered for herself, then asked if I wanted anything before the waitress left. I didn’t even answer fast enough—she ordered my go-to without blinking. Girl knew my entire menu history like she studied it.
Then came the food. She barely touched her own plate before sliding a piece toward me with her fork. “Taste this. You’ll like it.” I did. Ate it right off her fork, too. No hesitation. No shame. Everyone saw. No one said anything—until my dumbass friend across the table raised a brow and went, “Y’all dating or what?”
I just rolled my eyes and kept chewing. JuJu? She grinned like she won a bet. Wiped the corner of my mouth with her thumb and said, “We just locked in.” And nobody argued.
She paid for my meal. Held the door open on the way out. Took my leftovers in her hand like it was her job. She even offered me her hoodie when the wind picked up, despite the fact that she was wearing a damn tank top underneath. I didn’t ask. She just shrugged and said, “Don’t want you getting cold.”
I let her.
I let her do all of it. Every sweet, extra, clingy, girlfriend-coded thing. Because truth is? I like it. I like the way she moves around me. I like the way she sees me. Like I’m something worth orbiting. Like I’m the only reason she even showed up.
And maybe… I am.

@draculara-vonvamp @non3ofurbusiness @kajspeaks
#juju x reader#juju imagine#juju watkins x y/n#juju watkins x oc#juju watkins x reader#juju watkins#usc x reader#usc imagine#gxg fluff#gxg imagine#x female reader#x fem!reader#x female y/n#x fem oc#x female oc#x black reader#x black oc#x black fem reader#x black y/n#wnba x reader#wbb imagine#wbb x reader#wbb x oc#wnba x oc#wnba imagine#gxg#wbb#wnba fanfic
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