#might write a fic for this one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kamaluhkhan · 1 month ago

Text

LOVE, VIOLET

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 12.9k summary: history might say that you and vi were only best friends, but the real story is much more complicated. (or: you and vi celebrating valentine's day warning: friends to lovers arc, lots of sapphic yearning, brief mention of homophobia and bullying....but mostly cheesy domestic fluff and sappy lesbian monologues and lots of smut [oral (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), thigh riding, strap usage(r! receiving), needy+possessive! vi and slightly (?) dom! reader] (18+) ! a/n: happy (belated oops) valentine's day girls and gays <33 been working on this for a while and hoped to get it out like....actually in time for love day but such is life. ANYWAYS this is set in the same universe as this x-mas themed fic (and kinda a modern au of this one?? reader has the same nickname and there's a friends to lovers arc so....). hope y'all enjoy!!!!

♪: "glue song" by beabadoobee ft. clairo (sun); "home by now" by MUNA (moon); "love is a kaleidoscope" by chappell roan (rising)

also - header image was cropped from a gifset from @arcanegifs , pls check out their beautiful work !!!

track 1: “feeling you” by cat burns

(now)

"fuck, vi," you moan as her tongue splits your folds. "we don't have time for this...."

you have to get to studio and vi has to get to work, but the combination of the hot water hitting your skin and vi’s mouth on your cunt was something you did not want to give up just yet — even if you didn't want to admit it.

"baby," vi pouts, looking up at you innocently, as if she wasn't the one who decided to push you against the tile wall and get on her knees in front of you. "it was your idea to shower together this morning.”

"well, sorry for wanting to save water," you breathe, your grip tightening on her hair when she wraps her lips around your clit. "the planet is dying."

vi pulls away from you once more, lips shining with your slick. "well, excuse me for thinking you wanted to start today with a bit of romance. if all you care about is the environment...." she gets up and reaches behind you to turn off the water. "we better get going, pretty girl."

you whine at the sudden loss of warmth and clench your thighs together at the nickname, something that does not go unnoticed by vi. she licks her lips before leaning forward to kiss you, your back pushed against the cool tile once more and the taste of yourself faint on her tongue.

hearing your alarm go off reminds you that there are other responsibilities you each have to attend to. reluctantly, the two of you dry off and make your way to your shared bedroom. you put on a fuschia boyshort / bralette combo (your favorite set because, yes, it matches your girlfriend’s hair) before slipping on some dark jeans and a heart-printed turtleneck, and moving on to your makeup. in the meantime, vi had been in the kitchen making coffee, and reemerges now with two mismatched mugs. she sets one on the desk next to you, kisses the top of your head before getting herself ready for the day.

you swipe some eyeliner on your waterline, watching in the mirror as vi searches in the closet for something to wear, still only dressed in black briefs and a sports bra. you smile as you see the stars tattooed on her upper thigh, sparkling with every movement she makes. once she picks out an outfit, her eyes catch yours.

"what?" she asks with a lazy grin, slipping on a tight black henley.

you smile, adding some pink glitter to your eyelids.

it’s only been two weeks since you’ve moved into this new place. there are still plenty of unpacked boxes, and you still get a bit lost navigating around the neighbourhood, but otherwise, it’s been a dream.

you love seeing your clothes woven together in the same closet; you love waking up with her arm around your waist, doing laundry together, and coming home to vi having tried a new recipe for dinner. you love how you sometimes wear each other’s rings because you keep them all in a pile on the nightstand, how she falls asleep with her head in your lap during movie night, how her skin smells like the rose body wash you picked out together at lush.

you love this — this home you’re starting to build. you’ve known vi for so long, but your lives are intertwined now more than ever.

"nothing," you respond, finishing with a layer of vanilla lip gloss. "want me to do your eyeliner?”

it’s a familiar position: vi sits on the edge of the bed while you straddle her hips. she leans forward and presses a kiss to your sternum before you hold her chin between your thumb and pointer finger.

“so….tomorrow’s valentines day,” vi suddenly points out, though, really, you didn’t need the reminder.

you’d spent these past few years apart and this is your first valentine’s day since the break-up.

you both agreed — no pressure — but…..there’s definitely a bit of pressure. you’d been working on your gift for her for weeks, and you’re really hoping that she likes what you’ve planned.

“i thought it would be nice to get dinner tonight at bacchus. i called earlier this morning and got us a reservation for 7:30.”

you hum in appreciation.

vi might be taking a break from the band, but she’s still the violet lanes, the pink-haired rockstar of every lesbian’s dreams who’s written award-winning songs and sold out entire football stadiums. there are new perks of being her girlfriend this time around, like a nice apartment in new york and getting a day-of-reservation at the most expensive italian restaurant in the city.

“valentine’s day is tomorrow,” you repeat, a playful lilt to your words. you swipe your thumb near the corner of vi’s eye where you’d smudged an otherwise sharp wing of eyeliner. “someone’s eager to get a head start.”

with that, you snap the tube closed, press a kiss to the tattoo on vi’s cheek, and get up to gather your things for studio. you’re tucking your sketchbook into your messenger bag when you feel vi’s strong arms wrap around your middle.

“you always said i was impatient,” she teases. you can feel her smirk against the star-shaped birthmark behind your ear before pressing a gentle kiss to your skin and whispering: “can you blame me, stargirl? for wanting to get dressed all fancy and go somewhere nice and romantic with the prettiest girl in the world?”

“of course not.” you crane your neck back until your lips practically brush against hers as you speak. “except, you’re the prettiest in the world, baby.”

a beautiful blush spreads across vi’s freckled cheeks, the way it always has whenever you comment on vi’s beauty.

she clears her throat, still a bit flustered. “agree to disagree?”

you pretend to think about it for a second, nudging your nose against hers. “agree to disagree,” you reply, teasing her by continuing to hover above her lips, just a sliver of air between you.

yeah, vi’s impatient — but, sometimes, you love it. like, right now, when she turns you around to face her so she can close the gap, deepening the kiss by sliding her tongue into your mouth without any preamble.

vi groans as another alarm goes off from your phone. "i will never get used to how many alarms you set."

you giggle, and pull away slightly to swipe the cancel button. vi takes the opportunity to move your shirt slightly and leave bites on your exposed collarbone. you check the time on your phone.

you can spare a little more time. it is valentine’s day, after all.

(age 13)

“vi, your precious stargirl is on the phone for you!”

at the mention of your nickname, vi flinches, inadvertently failing to dodge a lethal attack. green goblin crashed his glider into her spiderman avatar, and the words GAME OVER fill the screen in an angry red font.

vi groans, throwing her playstation controller on the couch before heading to the kitchen.

powder is sitting on the counter, twirling the telephone cord around her finger and yapping away before vi takes her place.

“hey.” vi clears her throat, tries to sound casual. “what’s up?”

“so, my mom promised to make something for ekko’s valentine’s class party, but she just got called in for a shift….which means i’m stuck baking 30 rainbow confetti cupcakes, and hoping i don’t give any eight year olds food poisoning. you doing anything right now?”

“oh - i’m actually, uh, busy! i have homework, and….”

and she’s busy avoiding you, ever since she heard something about you — from drea, of all people — and wondered why you wouldn’t confide in her, your supposed best friend.

“please, vi,” you coax. vi’s heart beats a bit quicker as she pictures your bottom lip jutting out into a pout. “can you come over and help me bake? it feels like forever since we’ve actually hung out. i miss you.”

vi is certainly not god’s strongest soldier when it comes to you, so of course, she caves. rainbow confetti cake is her favorite, so that’s a bonus. she and powder throw on their coats and head next door to yours; powder and ekko keep each other company in the living room while vi joins you in the kitchen.

“hey,” she greets.

“there you are!” your face lights up with the sweetest smile, causing the butterflies in her stomach to flap up a storm.

gods — do you realize the effect you have on her?

there’s already flour dusting your cheek; vi has to resist the urge to brush it away with her thumb, wanting to feel how soft your skin must be.

she snaps out of it though, as you instruct her on what needs to be done, and the two of you work in a comfortable silence, the sounds of your siblings watching cartoons in the other room filling the space between you. at one point, probably realizing that vi isn’t in the mood for talking, you switch on the radio. vi catches you smiling at her as she hums along to freddie mercury, but you’re quick to blink away and get back to work.

you’re sifting confectioner’s sugar into room temperature butter for the icing while vi slides the first batch of cupcakes in the oven, starts prepping the second, her mind starting to wander.

you and vi are playing the leads for your final english project, where you have to reenact scenes from romeo and juliet. powder caught the two of you rehearsing last week, and spent the whole night singing that stupid playground chant. now vi can’t get it out of her head: you and her, sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G —

“the rumor’s not true, by the way,”

vi looks at you as she pours batter into another cupcake liner, which accidentally overflows onto the counter.

“shit,” she groans, but you slide over to the other side of the kitchen counter to bring her a towel.

you don’t elaborate on what you’ve just brought up as you wipe up the thick batter. vi figures you’re waiting for her to say something.

“what rumor?”

it was never vi’s instinct to play pretend with you, but frankly she had no idea what else to do without letting her emotions burst into flames and inevitably burn you.

“vi,” you sigh. “i know you’ve heard it. the whole school has. it’s not true, though. i wasn’t kissing james.”

oh. the spark of envy in her gut simmers down.

“did he ask you to the sweetheart dance?”

you shake your head, and the spark extinguishes completely. “even if he did….i wouldn’t want to go with him.”

“why’s that? not your type?”

you finish wiping the counter, and vi takes the now-sticky towel from you to rinse it out in the sink. as she does this, you get back to frosting duty, stirring in some pink food colouring.

“drea saw me kissing someone with dark brown hair,” you explain. “so isabel started told her that it was james, and that’s what she’s been telling everyone. but really….it was her.”

vi blinks at you. “her?”

“yeah, her,” you smile hesitantly.

“you were kissing isabel?”

isabel was the prettiest girl in eighth grade — though, according to vi, you’d have that ranking, and it would go way beyond the scope of your middle school. you’re the prettiest girl in the world; not that vi would ever have the courage to tell you that.

you nod. “you’re not, like, weirded out that i like kissing girls, are you?”

“what? no, of course not! especially since….i, uh, i like kissing girls too.”

in theory. vi likes to imagine kissing girls, especially when they look like korra from the legend of korra, or shego from kim possible, or hayley kiyoko in lemonade mouth.

or….you.

vi watches intently as you — a very pretty, very real girl — swipe your finger through the fluffy pink frosting and taste it, flashing her a sugary smile.

“good to know.”

(age 16)

when josie asked her out, vi had completely neglected the fact that dinner on friday would mean dinner on february 14th.

which is how vi finds herself getting ready for a date with someone she met during your short-lived attempt at starting an all female fight boxing club. josie is sweet and vi felt bad cancelling on her, so like the gentleman she is, vi promised to pick her up at 7:30pm. on friday, february 14th.

it’s 6:44pm, and vi is in your room. you helped her pick out an outfit — something nice but not too formal — and you’ve moved on to makeup, carefully applying her eyeliner.

vi tries not to stare at your lips — which are slightly red from the cinnamon hearts you’ve been eating — so she keeps squirming, and you keep gently guiding her chin towards you. her eyes wander to your decorated walls, filled with posters and photos and other things you’ve collected throughout the years. she’s featured in quite a few, and she catches a glimpse of an old valentine card she’d given you in elementary school.

��it’s weird that we won’t be spending valentine’s day together,” you comment as though reading her mind.

you’d never spend the holiday as anything other than friends, but it does still feel strange, not spending it with someone she knows for sure she loves.

(again — like a friend loves a friend.)

“yeah, definitely,” vi agrees. “do you have anything planned for tonight?”

“huge plans, actually.” you pop another cinnamon heart in your mouth. “i’ve got a super romantic date with the prettiest girl in the world.”

vi tilts her head in confusion — did you mention this to her? — which causes you to shake your head with a lighthearted laugh and guide her towards you once more.

“really? with who?”

you roll your eyes. “i’m kidding!”

“oh.”

“it’s cute how gullible you are,” you whistle. by now, you’re done with her eyes and move on to dusting her cheeks with some sort of shimmery powder. “i’m probably just gonna put on a rom-com and finish — well, start — writing my english essay on romantic literature. lowercase ‘r,’ because ms. chavez was feeling festive. i’m leaning more modernist, but that’s only because i want to write about virginia woolf.”

it’s inching towards when vi should leave, but vi doesn’t care what time it is — she’d listen to you talk forever if she could.

“what’s it about?”

you pull away to examine vi’s makeup one last time.

“the movie, or my essay?” you nod once in approval and give the compact you’re holding to vi so she can take a look. “you look beautiful, by the way.”

vi watches her reflection blush, almost enhanced by the makeup you put on her.

“thanks, stargirl.” vi clears her throat and decides to get back to your original conversation. “the movie and your essay, i guess.”

you offer vi a cinnamon heart, which she accepts, the candy burning sweet on her tongue. you then reach into your backpack, for the ring pop that vi had left in your locker this morning, just before you handed her a box of rainbow confetti cupcakes. you slip the candied jewellery onto your right ring finger before answering.

“i want to analyse the letters between virginia woolf and this other writer — vita sackville-west. they’re essentially love letters, but, you know.” you give an exaggerated shrug. “history says they were only best friends. at least, according to ms. chavez’s interpretations, along with most of the class.”

vi chuckles. “thankfully, you’re here to prove them all wrong.”

“exactly.” you nudge your shoulder against vi’s, the feeling of your body familiar next to hers. “and, for the movie, i’m thinking when harry met sally, which i remember watching with you for the first time.”

vi definitely remembers watching that with you, too. the whole question of whether or not men and women can be friends without romance getting in the way brought up another, much more relevant question in vi’s mind: can two sapphic women be friends without any complicated feelings?

it’s definitely possible.

“so….you excited for this date?”

vi shrugs. “yeah.”

“wow. i totally believe that,” you say, words dripping with sarcasm.

“it’s just….it’s valentine’s day,” vi whispers. she starts fiddling with one of her rings — you’d gotten it for her last valentine’s day, a silver thumb ring with a star in the middle. “what if she wants to kiss me tonight?”

“well, you kiss her back, if that’s what you want.”

“that’s what i want,” she responds, way too quickly to be true. “it’s just — i’m not sure i’ll be any good.”

“you’ll be fine,” you assure.

“but — i mean, i’ve never…..”

“oh.” your eyes widen and your lips part in shock, the blue-raspberry of the ring pop turning them from red to purple that’s intoxicatingly close to violet. “oh.”

“what! it’s not, like the end of the world.”

“of course not! it’s just — you’ve gone out with a bunch of girls, so i just figured….”

vi shakes her head, her cheeks heating up. “guess i never found the right one. i know it’s cliche, but i kinda wanted my first kiss to be —”

“special?” you guess, and vi nods.

“and now, there’s all this pressure, i’m worried that i won’t be good.”

you clear your throat. “right. well, if it helps relieve the pressure….i could show you….how.”

“show me?”

“well — i mean, like teach you, i guess. plus, then i can let you know whether you’re, like, a good kisser or not.”

that’s how you find yourself practically in vi’s lap, slotting your lips between hers. it started off with a quick peck, but clearly, you’ve both decided that this lesson requires a bit more.

every single one of vi’s senses is heightened: the stickiness of your glossed lips, the sugar on your tongue, the giggles rumbling through you and bouncing down vi’s throat. time seems to slow down — no, freeze entirely — which is a stark contrast to the burning in her lungs.

needing air, vi pulls away.

“h-how was that?” she breathes, her words warming your mouth.

“good.” you smile, almost shy. you’re so close together that vi can feel your heart pounding against your ribcage. “maybe….a bit gentler this time.”

“gentler?”

“slower,” you suggest.

so, you kiss again. gentler, this time.

“your lips are a bit chapped,” is your next note. you reach for the tube of lip gloss in your pocket. “can i?”

“go ahead, stargirl,” vi whispers. “you’re the expert.”

you paint a layer of sticky vanilla glitter onto vi’s lips.

“there,” you sit back after swiping your thumb underneath vi’s bottom lip.

vi blinks at you. her lips feel like they’re coated in honey. “how do i look?”

“really pretty,” you reply, with a small smile. you sigh, glancing at the scooby-doo alarm clock on your nightstand, the one you’ve had since you were six years old. “you better go. have a good time with josie, okay?”

“okay.” vi gets up and grabs her jacket, tugs on her shoes. “and, thanks again for, well, you know.”

you shrug. “that’s what best friends are for. happy valentine’s, vi.”

vi hesitates just as she’s about to climb out your window. “look, stargirl, i don’t have to – i mean, i’m perfectly happy canceling my, uh, date, and just hanging out with you.”

“you’re sweet, vi, but i’ll be fine. go — have fun.” you walk closer to her so you can slip your tube of lipgloss into vi’s button down shirt pocket. you pat her chest affectionately. “and remember to be gentle, yeah?”

later, when she’s making out with josie in the backseat of her dad’s car, vi tries not to think about your soft voice guiding her through the movements, or the dizzying taste of your lips — cinnamon hearts and sour candy and sweet, sweet vanilla.

history might say that you and vi are only best friends, but the real story is much more complicated.

___

[image: a cartoon scooby-doo, holding a bouquet of hearts. the message reads: BE MY VALENTINE!]

to: stargirl <3

from: vi

___

track 2: “you’re my best friend” by queen

(age 7)

“mom?”

“yeah, kiddo?”

“can you be in love with your best friend?”

her mom, felicia, smiles knowingly, the question hanging in the air until the end of song. it’s part of an old mixtape that felicia plays sometimes, mostly glam rock like queen and david bowie. she put it on this afternoon while her and vi get ready for the valentine’s class party tomorrow. vi scribbles names on cards while her mom fills clear heart-printed bags with candy. powder’s fallen asleep on her lap.

“definitely,” felicia finally answers, reaching over to tap vi’s nose playfully. “love, violet, can be a million different things. that’s the fun part.”

felicia pinches vi’s cheek affectionately. vi frowns, thinking about this whole love thing.

love is definitely not the next classmate whose name she’s writing — drea, who always cheats during sports and teases vi for being a tomboy. she’s tempted to just leave her out, but the policy of ms. julie’s second grade class is that everyone needs to get a valentine. so, that’s not love, either.

instead, vi thinks of her family — her mom, vander, powder, and even ekko; movie nights and lively dinners and warm hugs. she thinks of her friends — mylo and claggor; laughter and skinned knees and running so fast it feels like flying.

when she thinks of you, though, her heart beats differently.

vi thinks about how you always carry around a spiderman bandaid because she always scrapes herself during recess, and the nurse only carries plain, boring bandages. she thinks about how you ‘accidentally’ spill paint on drea’s art project after she calls vi mean names.

she thinks about how you doodle on her arms during math or braid her hair as you watch cartoons and eat sugary cereal on saturday mornings.

she thinks about the star-shaped birthmark behind your ear, the perpetual marker stains on your hands, the dimple on your cheek.

you’re her best friend, and your smile alone wakes up a million butterflies in her stomach.

vi’s mom suggested spiderman valentine’s cards, but vi wanted to pick out something that you’d like; vi knows that scooby-doo is your favorite show, so that’s what she went with. she adds a ring pop to your bag of candy, because she knows they’re your favorite candy. she adds a little heart by your nickname, too.

the next day, everyone is decorating their shoeboxes, transforming them into mailboxes before exchanging valentines. vi’s hands are sticky with glitter glue when you walk over — ms. julie said that you and vi distracted each other, so she assigned you to desks on opposite sides of the room.

“happy valentine’s day, vi,” you say, sliding a card into her mailbox and smiling ear to ear before moving on to the next person. vi eagerly reaches in for the valentine.

it’s spiderman-themed, and there’s a heart next to her name.

(now)

when you walk through the door, you’re engulfed in the scent of warm garlic bread and sweet, ripe tomatoes. the restaurant is bustling with waiters delivering colourful dishes, everyone wearing crisp suits and silk dresses. someone’s playing piano, soft music dancing throughout the room, and the overhead lights are dimmed, with each table illuminated by a candle in the centre.

the maître d' greets you with a welcoming smile and settles you into a table. once they’re gone, vi reaches across the table for your hand.

“you look beautiful, stargirl.”

vi’s skin is always warm, but the cool metal of her thumb ring sends a shiver through you as she brushes over your knuckles. the flame between you flickers, darkening vi’s powder blue eyes as she gazes at you lovingly.

“you let me borrow your clothes,” you point out. “i’m wearing one of your suits.”

“what can i say….” vi winks, releasing your hand so she can open the menu in front of her. “i have good taste. looks better on you, anyways.”

“were you always this much of a flirt?” you tease.

vi smirks. “like a fine wine, i just get better with age.”

“you are so corny,” you say with a slight laugh.

“well, some people do think my love songs are cheesy.”

“even the ones written about me?”

vi looks up from her menu, one eyebrow raised. “baby, they’re all about you.”

your cheeks heat up at vi’s confession, and you take a sip from your glass, ice water trickling down your throat, in hopes of steadying your heartbeat.

a waiter comes by; you each order pasta dishes and vi orders a bottle of wine for the table. the wine arrives quickly, but given how busy the restaurant is, you anticipate the food will take longer.

you fill the time easily, catching each other up on the details of your lives since this morning. you start by telling her how hectic your art studio has been as you prepare for your big spring exhibition, but how excited everyone is. you’re especially excited since you get to explore different mediums along the way; these past few weeks, you’ve been learning how to use a pottery wheel. you went through the final step of the process today — glazing — and you’re happy at the end product.

“i don’t think i’m gonna include it in my exhibit, though,” you conclude.

“well, it’d be nice to have some of your art on display all the time.” vi smiles. “you should bring whatever you made home.”

“that’s the idea,” you muse, a twinkle in your eyes as you take a sip of wine. “how was your day?”

vi started teaching guitar at the local community centre. some adults take lessons, but it’s mostly little kids with too much energy and too little patience. still, no matter how chaotic it can be, it’s clear that vi has been loving her job.

“i swear, this one girl, marceline, is a budding rockstar. i taught her a jimi hendrix song and she picked it up —” vi snaps her fingers, smiling proudly. “like that. such a talented kid.”

“you would know, pretty girl,” you praise.

your waiter arrives to bring plates full of pasta. you and vi thank them, your stomach grumbling at the delicious smell, a reminder that you had barely eaten all day. you’re so ready to dig into some quality fettuccine alfredo.

you and vi eat in a comfortable silence, until you hear an unfortunately familiar voice grate at your ears:

“oh my god, it is you! i saw you from the other side of the restaurant and just had to come over and say hi!”

you don’t need to glance to know who it is, but you do anyways, and so does vi. your stomach drops as you watch her bite back a scoff before turning back to her food.

“hi, drea,” vi clips before taking a big gulp of wine. she continues eating, barely sparing the woman another glance.

drea continues to hover. she’s wearing dark lipstick, her black hair cut into a classic bisexual bob, and her amber eyes silently pleading at you to break the ice.

“hey, drea,” you greet with a stiff smile, and drea relaxes her shoulders at your veil of friendliness.

“nice earrings,” she winks, reaching over to tap the dangling purple gem. “thought you might have gotten rid of them after we broke up.”

vi chokes on a sip of wine. “broke up?” vi coughs, reaches for her water glass. “since when did you two date?”

you open your mouth to respond, but drea beats you to it, clearly too focused on being the centre of attention.

“maybe like a year or so ago.” drea turns to you. “right, starlight?”

vi’s jaw clenches, and she drops her fork, metal clattering against the plate.

“starlight?”

“yeah, because of the star-shaped birthmark behind her —”

“i know,” vi snaps. her eyes are locked on you, and slightly glazed over. “you never told me you dated drea.”

“i-it was only 3 months,” you stutter.

“that hurts,” drea groans, clutching her heart. she always did have a flair for the dramatic. “it was 4 months, babe.”

“you dated for 4 months, and i’m just hearing about it now?” vi seethes, trying to keep her voice low. the tables around you have already taken note that something is happening, though, their conversations hushing down to an idle whisper. “did you somehow forget how much of an asshole she was in high school?”

“um, i’m right here?” drea chides, still not taking the hint that neither of you are interested in a happy reunion.

“we need a minute,” you and vi say simultaneously. drea rolls her eyes and mutters something you don’t care to hear; you’re too concerned with explaining yourself to vi, whose cheeks are burning with a deep shade of red. whether it’s jealousy, anger, or embarrassment, you’re not quite sure.

“vi, just let me —”

you reach out for her hand, but as soon as you make contact, vi pulls away abruptly.

“i…i need….to not be here right now,” vi mutters. the last thing she wants is to make headlines tomorrow morning — violet lanes, caught having argument with girlfriend at upscale restaurant during on valentine’s eve. flip to page 6 for the full story! — so, she gets up and slips on her jacket.

“please, baby, let’s talk about this —”

“order dessert, if you want. don’t rush home.”

her voice cracks at that last word before she storms out the door, leaving you with two unfinished meals and stomach heavy with regret.

___

[image: notebook opened to a page filled with chaotic, scribbled writing]

FOR STARGIRL (FINAL DRAFT!!! COME UP WITH TITLE LATER!??!!)

i’m stuck on you, baby

you taught me what love is

sugary sweet kisses,

frosting on your lips;

first tattoos,

promises on our skin

i’m stuck on you, baby

have been since we were kids

you’re not just the sun or the moon

you’re all my stars

know that i’ll love you

wherever we are

___

track 3: “true romantic” by indigo girls

(age 18)

the auditorium is decorated with red and pink streamers, heart garlands and bouquets of roses. a red spotlight shines on the stage, painting each performer with a pink hue. there are small tables and chairs arranged to make the space feel more like a parisian cafe, instead of where drama club rehearses for the spring musical.

you’re sitting at one of the tables, inhaling all the free coffee and pastries you possibly can and chatting with viktor and jayce, like you’ve done for the past three years at your highschool’s annual valentine’s day coffeehouse.

the first time vi performed, during your freshman year, she was all nerves, her fingers fumbling at chords and voice trembling through the lyrics of a joan jett song she had played for you perfectly that morning. when her eyes landed on yours in the crowd, you gave her a thumbs-up — you’d been just friends at the time, after all — and vi seemed to warm up, finishing to enthusiastic applause.

now, vi walks on with confidence right away, electric guitar the same pink as her hair, with a constellation of stars scribbled on its body with black sharpie. she’s grown out her hair, still keeping it shorter on one side to display her growing collection of piercings. the newest addition is a silver loop in her nostril, which glints underneath the spotlight as she leans closer to the mic. she’s wearing lowrise jeans and showcasing a sliver of her hips; you can’t help but think about what’s hidden just a bit lower, the stars sparkling along her upper thigh, etched into her skin at the same time you got violets blooming between your ribs.

“hey everyone. most of you know me as the captain of our hockey team —”

beside you, jayce whistles and there’s a scattering of applause for the team, who just made it to nationals. vi landed an athletic scholarship, too, to play at university of piltover. even though you have a hard time picturing your girlfriend as an enforcer, you’re so proud of her. plus, it’s only a twenty minute drive from zaun university, where you’ve decided to go so you could be close to your family.

“but, i’ve been writing songs, too,” vi continues. “i realized that i’ve gotten up here every year to sing someone else’s love song to a girl i’ve had a crush on since before i even knew what a crush was. but this is a song i’ve been writing, for and about her, for years. and now that we’re actually dating….well, i wanted to do something special for our first valentine’s day. ” vi looks at you with a toothy grin, and you blow her a kiss. “wait, actually, can we get a spotlight on my girlfriend? right there?”

vi gestures in your general direction, and suddenly you feel the heat of the spotlight and 50 pairs of eyes on you. your cheeks flush at the attention, but you play along and wave nonetheless.

“there she is,” vi gushes. “my beautiful stargirl. i wrote this song —”

“oh my god, we came here for music, not your sappy lesbian monologue!” drea, current goalie of zaun high’s hockey team and perpetual pain in vi’s ass, groans. “hurry up and play the song already!”

one of the teachers hushes the bubbling laughter, and it dies down just as quickly as it emerged.

vi rolls her eyes. “as i was saying, i wrote this song-slash-sappy-lesbian-monologue for you, stargirl. i hope you like it. happy valentine’s day.”

you don’t know what makes your heart soar more — the sweet lyrics falling from the lips of the girl you love, or the girl herself.

later, vi is falling asleep in the middle of chemistry class when she hears a light clink against the window. she glances outside and sees you waving at her, smile as bright as a shooting star. you have paint stains on your jeans that weren’t there earlier and you’re gesturing at her to follow you. vi just shrugs and nods her chin towards the front of the class.

your bottom lip juts out into a pout, and you curve your hands into a heart before disconnecting them. vi snorts at your antics.

“ms. lanes, are my slides on organic compounds amusing to you?”

“uh, no mr. michaels. of course not.” vi clears her throat, whips her head back towards the smartboard. “may i, uh, go to the bathroom?”

vi checks her phone as soon as she closes the door behind her.

stargirl

hurry UP!!!

dyke spiderman <3

easy romeo

i’m omw

where should i meet u???

stargirl

our spot

“wait!” you call as soon as vi reaches the bottom of the staircase and starts to turn the corner. “close your eyes!”

“how’d you know it was me?” vi laughs, but does as she’s told nonetheless.

“the axe body spray is a pretty dead giveaway,” you deadpan.

“hey, i stopped using that in middle school. can i look now?”

you ask her to wait one more time. vi feels you shift behind her, wrap your arms around her waist. on instinct, vi reaches a hand down and laces her fingers through yours, your skin slick and cold.

“okay,” you whisper, your breath hot against her ear. “open your eyes.”

and when she does, vi is glad that you’re holding her, because she’s suddenly weak in the knees at what’s gracing the wall before her: a small mural reminiscent of klimt’s famous painting, ‘the kiss’. except — it’s the two of you, surrounded by stars and violets.

“happy valentine’s day, vi.”

you untangle yourself from her, but vi doesn’t let go of your hand, even when she realizes it’s wet with fresh paint.

“you….you did this?”

“yeah.”

“wow….it’s amazing. beautiful.”

vi squeezes your hand, still in awe at how you beautifully swirled together each color, the loving expressions you managed to portray with each delicate stroke of your paintbrush.

“i’m glad you like it.”

“like it? i love….” she turns to you. “i love it. you didn’t have to do all this though, it must have taken you forever.”

“you’re worth it,” you muse. “like you said — it’s our first valentine’s day. as a couple at least. i wanted to do something special. i made us a playlist, too.”

so, even though it means she’s skipping chem and you’re skipping history, the two of you curl underneath the staircase, a pair of earbuds split between you.

“i’m gonna miss seeing you every day after we graduate.”

vi hums in agreement. she gently lifts your head from her shoulder, holding your chin between her thumb and pointer finger. “you know i’ll love you wherever we are, right?”

“i know, i heard you early on stage,” you swoon, settling back against her shoulder. “seemed a bit dramatic for only being, like, 20 minutes away from each other. though, i guess that is the farthest apart we’ve ever been.”

vi takes a deep breath, as your fingers dance along the doodles decorating her skin, the ones you had drawn on in sharpie during calculus. “except…. it might be further than that, depending on how things go.”

your pointer finger pauses halfway through an outline of a heart. “what do you mean?”

“i’m, uh….i don’t want to go to university of piltover. actually, i don’t want to go to college at all. i turned down the scholarship; made the official decision two weeks ago after the big game.”

“you did what?”

“i wanna move to l.a. or london, pursue this whole music thing. i think it could really take me places.”

“right,” you clip.“and why are you just bringing this up now? have you told vander? have you talked to anyone before making a huge, life-changing decision?”

you continue shaking your head in disbelief as you gather your backpack and turn the corner, emerging from underneath the staircase; vi follows you.

“no, but it’s my life — and i know what i want.”

“and it’s always about what you want, right?” you scoff.

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“it’s just — did you ever think about your family in all this? how powder might feel having her sister so far away just as she’s starting high school?”

“i’ve spent the past 13 years of my life worrying about powder, taking care of her especially after our mom died,” vi reasons, trying to keep her voice steady. “i need a break. my dreams are bigger than this town.”

“do you…” you trail off, hesitant to even speak the words aloud, but the coil in your gut tells you it’s unavoidable. “do you need a break from us?”

“stargirl.” vi whispers your nickname like a promise itching to be broken. “i thought you’d love having a rockstar girlfriend,” she teases, trying to lighten the mood.

“don’t,” you grumble, brows furrowed. “if you wanted to make things work between us, you would have at least talked to me about this.”

“i am talking to you,” vi counters. she grabs her hands in yours. you pull away.

“but, you spent these past two weeks listening to me imagine our future together, while you had already made other plans. what does that say about our actual future?”

before vi can respond, someone clears their throat from the top of the staircase. your principal, looking down on you with an expression that can only be described as disinterested, addressing you by your last names.

“pro tip,” she continues. “if you want to skip class and have a lover’s quarrel, make sure it’s not somewhere that carries sound directly to the office.”

you and vi get assigned detention that afternoon. you’re told to sit on opposite sides of the room, but that doesn’t stop vi from throwing a crumpled ball of paper your way.

glancing over at your girlfriend, you have to admit that you find yourself melting at those puppy dog eyes of hers, pleading and so full of love as she waits for you to respond to her message.

even though the future feels uncertain, you scribble something back, then toss the paper towards her desk discreetly. it lands on the floor. vi unfolds it and smiles as she reads the note, cheeks tinted a light rose.

___

[image: a crumpled ball of paper. unfold it, and it reads….]

(in hot pink gel pen)

I WANT TO MAKE THINGS WORK BETWEEN US

I LOVE YOU

(in black sharpie)

I LOVE YOU TOO

OF COURSE WE’LL MAKE IT WORK

I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE A ROCK STAR GF, BTW

BUT ONLY IF SHE’S AS HOT AS YOU

___

track 4: “home by now” by MUNA

(age 21)

“wait, hold on — what does that sign say?”

violet lanes, will you be my valentine?

“i’m flattered,” vi chuckles. “but, sorry ladies — i’m a happily taken woman. i’ve got a pretty girl waiting for me in the crowd.”

“and, lemme just say, it’s a good thing we’ve all got separate hotel rooms this time,” caitlyn groans.

vi rolls her eyes. “anyways. this is a very special night because it’s the first time my girlfriend is watching us perform live! she’s over there, looking as beautiful as ever. everyone, say hi!”

the spotlight shines on you, and you giggle shyly. the necklace she’d given you this morning practically glows between your collarbones, illuminates your skin with a violet hue.

“isn’t she the cutest?” vi gushes. “the first time i performed this next song was to celebrate our first valentine’s day as a couple. and — fun little easter egg — when we released this as a single, the cover was a painting she had made for me on that same day. she’s just so talented, kicking ass at this fancy art program….she’s basically the frida kahlo to my joan jett…..and i’m just rambling, now, sorry guys. i could probably talk about my girl all day.”

“oh, and she does,” maddie grumbles.

“the fans love sappy-lesbian-monologues, don’t they?” the crowd roars, and vi flashes maddie a winning smirk. “so, yeah, i love my girlfriend every day, of course, but today it’s with roses and ring pops and those cheesy cards kids hand out to each other in elementary school. happy valentine’s day, stargirl. this one’s called — stuck on you.”

when the show’s over, and the band’s played not one, but two encores, you’re flinging your arms around vi’s neck before she even has the chance to put down her guitar. she’s all sweaty, white tank top sticking to her torso. her ears are still ringing and her throat a bit sore, but all vi cares about is the feelings of your soft lips kissing across her cheeks.

“you’re so fucking amazing,” you gush, pecking her lips delicately. “i mean, i’ve seen you play before, but never like this! vi, you’re….wow. electric, fucking radiant. you must be exhausted, though, ahh —”

vi kisses you, sweaty and breathless, until she’s practically sucked all the air from your lungs.

“not at all,” she replies with a cocky grin. “we’ve got all night and i’m not planning on getting any sleep.”

“ugh, gross. get a room,” caitlyn scoffs, playful but with a bit of an edge.

“oh, we will,” you reply coolly. maybe you’re a bit jealous with how seamlessly caitlyn fits into vi’s new life, how much she’s able to see your girlfriend much more than you’re able to. she hasn’t been particularly friendly since you’ve gotten here, and she’s been a bit too touchy with vi in the tabloids lately. “i’m guessing you don’t have any valentine’s plans?”

caitlyn narrows her eyes at you.

vi laughs, probably about to make a lighthearted comment to diffuse the tension between you and caitlyn, but she’s called aside by their manager for a quick chat before she gets the chance.

“i’ll be right back. cait, stargirl — play nice,” she advises, like you’re children fighting on the playground.

once she’s gone, caitlyn’s frown turns into a smirk.

“stargirl, huh? guess that explains her thigh tattoo. i didn’t think vi was that sentimental, though, so it must have been at your request.”

you straighten your back, trying to mirror caitlyn’s combative confidence. “i think i know her better than you.”

“maybe before, when you were kids growing up in that nothing town. things change, darling. people change — who they are and what they want. if i were you, i’d accept that sooner rather than later,” caitlyn snarks as she finally walks away, bumping your shoulder just as vi returns to the pair of you.

you don’t quite have the time to register the interaction, not with vi intertwining her fingers with yours and tugging you towards her body.

“let’s get out of here, yeah?” she brushes some hair behind your ear. “we’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.”

and, there was so much time to make up for — the days that have turned into weeks, turned into months, turned into years since you’d last seen each other in person, sometimes only speaking to each other once every month, for only two minutes at a time.

you’d gotten so used to being apart that being together feels like a dream.

vi’s warm body presses against yours, barely making it to the bed. you just couldn’t resist pushing her against the door of the hotel room as soon as you were inside, lodging your thigh between her legs.

“i, uh, i have a surprise for you,” vi breathes, groaning as you hum and start to suck bruises down her neck.

“yeah? what is it, pretty girl?”

blushing and slightly flustered at the nickname, vi removes her shirt and sits back on the bed, gesturing at you to follow her. you hover on top of her and take in her naked form.

“you…got your nipples pierced.”

vi grins.

“can i touch them?”

she nods enthusiastically. you brush your thumb over one and she shivers, causing you to pull away.

“no, it’s okay,” she assures, guiding your hand back towards her. “feels good.”

you start kissing her again. “you’re so fucking beautiful.” until you reach her chest. “can i?”

vi blinks up at you, eyes glazed over with honeyed want. “please. f-fuck,” vi moans when you latch your mouth to her nipple, rolling the cold, silver piercing along your tongue.

“you’re so sensitive,” you coo. you release her nipple with a pop, a string of saliva still connecting it to your wet lips. your fingers slip underneath vi’s underwear, gliding through her soft curls and down into her sticky heat. “so wet. you really missed me, yeah?”

“course i did, stargirl,” vi lets out a shaky laugh. “i want to show you just how much.”

you pout, and vi has the urge to capture that beautiful bottom lip of yours between her teeth. “but i wanted to show you how much i missed you.”

“well, like i said — we have all night.”

three orgasms later, and you’re nearing the point of exhaustion, but you’re determined to keep going, if anything because of how full you feel with vi’s fingers fucking into you at a truly impressive pace. the pads of her fingers are rougher than before, calluses from playing guitar so often, but she still knows exactly how to curl and curve them in every way that makes you unravel. her lips are shining with your cum, and you still taste her sweetness on your tongue.

she grinds her bare cunt against the soft skin of your thigh as she brings you closer and closer to your peak while desperately chasing hers.

“you close, pretty girl? gonna cum for me again?”

vi whines, nods eagerly. “i’m so fucking close. fuck — i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

you groan when vi starts sucking at your pulsepoint, running her tongue over the chain of your new necklace. you reach a hand up to tug at her hair, gently coaxing her to look at you.

“don’t worry about that,” you promise. vi takes a deep breath as though inhaling your words and buries her face in the crook of your neck, butterfly lashes fluttering closed and tickling the skin behind your ear. “you’re being so good for me, so messy.”

“s-sorry,” vi sniffles, blood rushing to her cheeks. her body stills while she moves to meet your gaze, her puppy dog eyes shining with desire and desperation.

you shake your head and dig your fingers into the plush of her hips, urging her to keep going.

“i love it,” you clarify, prompting vi’s face to brighten, her smile pure sunlight and sugar.

you run your thumb over the scar on her lip that stretches with such familiarity, before crashing your lips against hers. vi welcomes your slick tongue into her mouth, swirling around every crevice until your tastes combine into one. the knot in your abdomen tightens and you, somewhat reluctantly, pull away to admire your girlfriend.

“i love how gorgeous you look on top of me, fucking me while using my body to get yourself off,” you continue, words flowing from your mouth like thick, sickly-sweet nectar. “i want you to cum with me one more time, yeah?”

vi whimpers into the crook of your neck, the vibrations intensifying the waves of pleasure crashing throughout your body. it doesn’t take long for vi to feel you clench around her fingers, and for you to feel her gush against your skin, staining the bedspread beneath your entangled bodies.

vi pulls away her fingers — you whimper this time at the sudden emptiness — but she places the softest kiss on your lips as an apology before adjusting to lay down on her side. she nestles into the curve between your neck and shoulder. her teeth graze your pulsepoint as you run your hand through her damp hair.

you should probably take a shower — the two of you drenched in each other’s sweat and saliva and cum — but all you want to do is to melt against her. maybe if you stay in bed, then time will slow down.

“i wish you could stay longer.”

“me too,” you whisper, idly tracing your fingers down her body.

“you know, the art scene in this city is amazing,” she mumbles. “lot of galleries where you could show your work. nice, big apartments where you could have your own private studio space. you could move here after graduation.”

you laugh. “maybe in another life, where i could afford a place in new york. plus, at this point, i think it’d be best for me to move home after i graduate. but, hypothetically speaking — yeah, that would be cool.”

“well, hypothetically speaking, you would share rent with the pink-haired butch of your dreams.”

“you mean the one whose cum is drying on my thigh right now?”

“the very same,” vi nods with a cheeky grin. she throw her arm around your waist, pulling you in closer.

you nudge your nose against hers. “paint me a picture — what does this dream life with my dream girl look like?”

“well, we get a place in an artsy neighbourhood, obviously, surrounded by a strong, welcoming community of queer artists, who are all quirky and colorful in their own way.”

“we’d actually be friends with our neighbours — host dinner parties and have movie nights and dance all night at gay bars. our apartment would have an open-floor plan, and we’d have big windows that give us a ton of light and a great view.”

“a beautiful kitchen, too. one that’s a little outdated, but we prefer the term charming,” vi adds. “and there are always fresh flowers on the counter, in a gorgeous vase.”

“we thrifted most of our stuff, so the furniture is all mismatched furniture and in every color of the rainbow —”

“but it works.”

“it works,” you echo, heart glowing. “we adopt a dog, too.”

“and, the dog’s name?”

you think for a second. “scooby.”

“of course,” vi agrees, her smile suddenly sad. “sounds like a nice life we’d have together.”

“yeah. it does.”

you swallow down those dreams with a bitter dose of reality. you’ll be on a plane tomorrow, heading back to your childhood home, while vi continues travelling the world, performing to sold-out stadiums.

i don’t know what i’d do without you.

the sad truth is that vi does know what to do without you, and you know what to do without her. that’s what this relationship has become: together, in theory, but growing into your adult selves and towards lives that don’t necessarily include the other.

the vi beside you, hair a mess and eyeliner smudged, looks the same, give or take a few new tattoos and piercing. but, you wonder about all the little ways she’s changed that you might not ever have the chance to appreciate, about all the details of her day that you’ll never get to hear about.

you wonder if, possibly, caitlyn is right. you know that people change — who they are, what they want. you want to believe that you and vi are the exception, that no matter how much you changed, you’d always be together. always.

you then remember something else that caitlyn had said, and abruptly stop tracing designs onto vi’s skin, your eyes lingering on the stars on her upper thigh. vi must notice how you stiffen, because she cups your cheek, prompting you to meet her gaze.

“hey — are you okay?”

“i just — don’t take this the wrong way — but….has anything ever happened between you and cait?”

vi freezes. “why….why would you ask that?”

“o-oh, it’s just….she mentioned something about your star tattoo and, i, uh, i don’t know. seems like the type of thing she’d only know if the two of you had —”

vi shuffles away from you beneath the sheets and sits up. “you think i’d cheat on you?”

“you aren’t answering the question,” you notice, watching carefully as a nervous blush blooms across her freckled cheeks. “did anything happen between you and caitlyn?”

“why does it matter? why are you asking?”

“i’m starting to think i have a good reason to.” you get out of bed in a huff and slip on her oversized graphic tee, starting to pace back and forth.

“i — look, i was going to tell you, at some point — we, uh….well, nothing actually happened.”

“well? what didn’t actually happen?”

“baby, just let me explain —” vi catches your arm to stop you. “we were both drunk and high and sharing a cigarette by the pool and….she….we….almost kissed.”

you scoff. “so that’s what this weekend was all about — you felt guilty, so you put on this heart-eyed romantic act to make yourself feel better. everything — this last minute trip, the shoutout at your concert, the fucking necklace you got me — was all because you felt guilty.”

“maybe that’s part of it,” vi admits. “but, mostly, i wanted to see you. i miss you.”

you don’t confess to missing her, too. instead, you say:

“maybe we don’t know each other as well as we used to. maybe….things are changing a bit too much.”

“what does that even — where is this going?” vi drops your arm like its a hot coal, red-hot and blistering. “do you wanna break up?”

the tension hangs in the air, a cloud of smoke and darkness between you and the girl you’ve always loved.

“do you?”

you get on a plane the next morning, bone-tired and heart-heavy with deja vu.

you kiss each other goodbye, promise that you’ll make things work.

you don’t. can’t.

a few months later, you’ll break up.

___

[image: postcard reading GREETINGS FROM PARIS! messy handwriting and misspelled words on the other side]

stargirl,

i promised powder id send her a postcard from paris but im really really drunk rn and urs is the only address i can rememer

they say this is the city of love and it’s the most romantic day of the yer but it means nothing without u. i miss u.

that mesage was 4 u not powder. just tell her i say hi.

xxx

p.s. i know were not together anymore, but i still love u.

___

track 5: “i’ve loved you for so long” by the aces

(now)

“vi?”

all the lights in the apartment are off, the only sign that vi is home being her discarded doc martens strewn by the door. there’s a chill in the air, too — the window to the fire escape is open, so you head outside.

the string lights twisted around the railing flicker like fallen stars, and the city sparkles in the late winter night. vi perches over the edge, her silk shirt unbuttoned at the top, her dark lipstick faded, and a cigarette smouldering between her ringed fingers.

“i stopped at magnolia’s on my way home – got us a slice of confetti cake for dessert,” you try, keeping your voice light in hopes of avoiding a fight. you hoped that the sweet treat would be a welcomed peace offering; that maybe you could sit down in your shared kitchen and actually talk through the conflict like the well-adjusted adults you’re trying to be.

instead, time collapses into itself; you’re both teenagers again, keeping secrets from each other in hopes to ease future pain, and you have a feeling you’re about to bicker like an old married couple, fall back into familiar patterns.

“sure you wouldn’t want to share it with drea, instead starlight?”

you don’t take the bait; you know vi wants to push your buttons, and you know that she knows exactly how.

“didn’t realize you still smoked,” you say, moving to lean against the railing next to her.

“whenever i get stressed.” she takes a drag to prove her point, exhaling smoke into the ink-black sky. “guess we don’t know each other as well as we used to.”

“vi, please,” you sigh. “can we actually talk about this without you lashing out like a wounded dog?”

and, it’s true — vi’s instinct when she’s upset has always been rushing to sink her teeth into something to protect herself from more harm, or gnawing on old wounds until fresh blood emerges.

“what’s there to talk about?” she snarls, tapping her cigarette, ash falling down into the abyss below you. “how you lied about dating drea?”

“i didn’t lie,” you huff. the winter night shivers down to your bones, but you cross your arms over your chest to keep yourself steady. “i just didn’t tell you that i’d gone out with her, specifically. we each admitted to seeing other people after our break-up. you never gave me a list of every fangirl you took to bed.”

“i told you about caitlyn —”

“the tabloids told me about caitlyn,” you counter.

“you knew how much i hated drea!” vi barks, finally whipping her head to look at you. “do you not remember how much of a homophobic asshole she was? how she told the entire hockey team that i cornered her in the showers one day and tried to kiss her?”

you bite down on the inside of your cheek, hard enough to taste copper.

“vi, if you just let me explain — she meant nothing to me.”

vi laughs, cold and bitter as the winter air. “i mean, jesus christ, you still have and wear the earrings she got you. meanwhile, you never wear that necklace i’d gotten you. as soon as we broke up, you were perfectly happy getting rid of me.”

“please, vi —”

vi’s eyes shine under the starlight, and she clenches her jaw so tight that you’re worried the bone might shatter. “did you not care about me at all, even after all that time, everything we’d been through?”

you uncross your arms and reach out to her, but she flinches away.

“violet —”

“no — you stopped caring about me to the point that you dated someone who made my life a living hell.” vi takes a shaky breath, and she chokes out your name. “we were best friends first, and i thought….god, i thought that meant we’d always love each other.”

the words hang heavy in the air, your heart pierced by her icicle-sharp words. in a haste, you wipe away the cold tears burning on your skin, turn around on your heels, and storm back inside.

vi finds you a few minutes later in the living room. you’re using the swiss army knife you usually keep clipped to your belt to tear through unpacked boxes. though she’s not sure what you’re looking for, vi turns on the lamp to help your search.

“what are you —”

you finally pull something out and offer it to her without a single word.

vi’s fingers are still slightly frozen as she holds it, her eyes following the precise swirls and crisp lines, designs similar to the tattoos on her back. you must have drawn them on the worn cardboard.

“what is this?”

“open it,” is all you say before sitting cross-legged on the velvety purple couch, which the two of you had lugged up three flights of stairs from the street corner just the other day. you pick at one of the tears in the fabric as you wait.

vi stays standing while she carefully cracks open the lid, well aware that it could disintegrate in her hands like sand through an hourglass.

what looks like a forgotten, ready-to-be-recycled shoebox turns out to contain much more than old sneakers:

valentine’s cards she’d given you in elementary school; notes you passed to each other during class or detention; her first songwriting notebook she must have left at your place; a jolly rancher lollipop wrapper from the halloween party where you first…you know. little trinkets vi had given you throughout the years. receipts, movie tickets, photobooth strips of your younger selves. so carefree and full of love.

her anger, her hurt, melts away into sappy affection; knees turning to jello, she slides onto the couch next to you.

you watch through the corner of your eye as vi rustles through contents of the shoebox-turned-time capsule, teeth worrying at your bottom lip.

“you….you kept all of this?”

“i put this box together on the first valentine’s day after our break-up. i was going to set it on fire,” you timidly admit, rubbing the back of your neck.

vi snorts. “seriously?”

“some sort of stupid ritual i read about in autostraddle, to get rid of your ex. but when it got to that point…all of this — all these memories — i couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them. i didn’t want to get rid of you.”

you reach into the box and pull out a faded, drunkenly-written postcard, chipped-polish nail fiddling with the french stamp in the corner.

“what about the necklace?” vi can’t help but ask. she runs her fingers through the delicate, dried violets from your corsage, which your mom had helped vi pick out a week before prom.

“ekko wanted new sneakers for his birthday, so i did the nobel big sister thing, and sold my most expensive piece of jewellery to pay for them,” you explain. you and vi had instinctively shuffled in closer together, the shoebox balanced on one leg from each of you, your knees touching. “plus — yeah, i was mad at you. god, i hated you — which probably was the reason i started going out with drea in the first place, and i’m really, really sorry that i did. but, i need you to know — i never stopped caring about you. i never stopped loving you, violet, and i don’t think i ever will. ”

silence stretches between you. vi stares at you in the warm living room light — how your eyes are darker, your lips parted, shoulders curling in to protect your bleeding heart. vi gently takes the postcard from you and places the shoebox on the floor.

“i never stopped loving you, either,” she promises, placing her now thawed hands on your cheeks. “and i don’t think i ever will.”

you smile softly as vi leans in closer, her eyes flickering between yours and your lips. you nod; vi presses her lips to yours, a tender vow that grows into something hungrier, something with teeth.

“gentler,” you tell her as you pull away slightly. you want to take your time, inhale the dizzying nicotine in her lungs, savor the acidic red wine on her tongue.

“gentler?” vi’s already eager, though, her hand inching up your thigh.

“slower, violet.”

vi shudders as you trail your fingers over the tattoo on her neck. “have i ever told you how much i love it when you say my name?”

“drea definitely wasn’t a fan of that habit,” you confess with a guilty grin. “one of the reasons we broke up is because, well...i kept accidentally saying your name during sex.”

“really?” vi chuckles darkly, a lightning bolt of possessiveness striking through her. “fucked you so good that i ruin you for other girls, hm?”

you roll your eyes, then suck in a breath when vi dips her fingers beneath your underwear, finding you wet and waiting.

“oh, sweetheart, you’re soaking. all this, just for me?”

“hm, i don’t know. drea did look pretty good in that dress,” you tease — because you know how to push vi’s buttons, too. “i have to admit, she was a pretty decent fuck.”

“don’t,” she warns, but her eyes are burning with desire.

you smirk, slipping your hand underneath her shirt. her skin is always warm, but, right now, it’s electric. her abs are sculpted by the gods, pave way to a thick haven of curls between her legs.

“maybe you need to remind me why your name always fell from my lips whenever she’d make me cum.”

vi’s cheeks are red-hot, her heart pounding against your chest as she pushes you onto the couch, and presses her body into yours.

“it would be my genuine pleasure.”

everything else to ash, and you’re left with this: your lace underwear dangling off your ankle as vi pushes your legs over her shoulders. her slick, skilled tongue sliding through your folds and her rough fingers squelching into your hole at an expert pace.

“f-fuck, vi,” you moan, running your fingers through her messy hair. you don’t miss how eagerly she grinds down onto the butter-soft velvet once you start tugging at the strands more firmly.

“feels good, yeah?” she moans like you’re the one fucking her. “i’m the one making you feel good?”

“yes.” you exhale sharply when she sucks on your clit. “i’m close, vi.”

“i know, baby,” she drawls, smirking against your skin.

“don’t stop.” you plead as she sucks a bruise into your thigh, fingers curling into you. “don’t stop, don’t stop —”

and, she fucking stops.

“vi,” you whine.

“uh-uh, you don’t get to cum quite yet, pretty girl.”

she sucks her honey-soaked fingers into her mouth as she gets up from the couch.

you pout, licking your lips even though you wish you could lick hers. “why not?”

“i’m still mad at you,” vi states. “you really did hurt my feelings. how do you plan on making it up to me?”

vi tries to resist, play the part of the jealous, possessive girlfriend — but, god, it’s hard, with how fucked out, how beautiful you look right now: your lips the color of ripe plums, swollen and stained with vi’s lipstick; the curls between your legs twinkling with droplets of your desire; and your eyes glazed over with lust as you gaze up at her from the couch.

“that new strap we got,” you suggest, still breathless. your breasts strain against the now-wrinkled silk of the shirt you’re wearing. vi’s thankful that it’s hers, because she wants nothing more than to rip the fabric off your body. “you — you can fuck me with it.”

“is that what you want?” vi hums, fire burning in her abdomen as she watches you nod eagerly. usually, you’re the one who takes control, and that’s perfectly fine with vi, but tonight….

tonight, she has something to prove.

you’re both naked by the time you reach the bedroom, clothes thrown across the apartment floor as you take turns leaving bites and bruises on exposed areas of the other’s skin. you get down on your knees, the shag carpet shocking your skin as vi looms over you, gnawing at her scarred, kiss-swollen lips. you help her adjust the harness and attach everything accordingly, leaving a kiss on each star glittering across her thigh once you’re done. she makes you wait patiently as she coats the dildo with a healthy amount of lube.

vi offers you her hand, sticky with lube and your essence from earlier, and lifts you to your feet. she kisses you sweetly before pushing you onto the bed.

"turn around," vi instructs. "on your knees."

you comply, already feeling yourself dripping onto the comforter in anticipation. vi kneels behind you on the bed, grasping the plush of your hips between her strong hands. you gasp when she spits onto your hole and starts to fuck into you, inch by inch.

"you okay, baby?" vi asks once she’s halfway inside you.

"yes," you breathe. "keep going.”

so, vi continues gliding further into your silken heat, and once she’s nestled inside you completely, her thighs meeting your ass — that’s when she turns on the vibrations. vi moans, so loud that you’re sure the entire building can hear. she starts grinding into you, but otherwise doesn’t move.

“violet.” you snap your neck back as far as you can, appreciating how perfectly dishevelled vi looks behind you, eyes rolled up to heaven, drool trickling from the corner of her plump lips. “are you gonna keep fucking me any time soon?”

“it’s just so much,” she whines, and continues rutting against you.

it is so much — the waves of pleasure quivering from her body to yours, the subtle burn of her happy trail rubbing against your skin, the melodic timbre of her voice — but it’s not enough.

“i know, baby. but i need more. if you don’t do something now….maybe there’s someone else i can call…”

your words effectively reignite that spark of jealousy, and she growls. vi slips out slightly, only to thrust back in, over and over, until you’re a moaning mess beneath her. your body starts to shake, but before you almost collapse onto your elbows, so vi reaches one hand to your neck and lifts you up so that her pierced nipples brushed against your back.

she kisses the back of your neck, trailing her hand down to pinch one of your nipples and you hiss, dizzy with pain and pleasure. she moves her other hand below the harness, rubbing her swollen clit in tight circles and gathering as much slick as she can. she brings those same fingers, glistening in the moonlight, to your lips, and you let her shove them into your mouth so you can finally taste her.

"this enough for you, greedy girl?" she taunts.

you are greedy, when it comes to her, suckling on her digits like a lollipop while she stretches you open so deliciously, the obscene squelching of your pussy accompanying a symphony of moans and curses.

"yes, violet. f-fuck, yes!"

you feel vi groan against the crook of your neck, where her teeth had been nibbling at the sweat-soaked skin.

“fuck — i need to watch you fall apart, knowing that i'm the one who makes you feel this good."

with that, vi flips you over, so she can watch you unravel. she hisses when your nails find purchase on her shoulders, digging down her tattooed back.

“you’re so fucking hot. so gorgeous. i’m so lucky that you’re mine.” vi’s voice is still rough and coarse with lust, but she’s looking at you all wonder-filled and soft-eyed, like you’re a work of art displayed at the louvre. “you….you are mine, right?”

the question is shockingly vulnerable from the woman who’s fucking you at a truly brutal speed, deep enough that you’re sure you’ll feel the lucious ache of her for days now.

you bring your hands to gently cradle her face as you wrap your legs around her hips. vi snakes one of her hands down to rub at your throbbing clit, while the other rests lovingly on your tattooed ribs, where delicate violets bloom.

“i’m yours,” you assure, and your heart glows when she beams above you. “you’re mine too, right?”

vi nods, damp strands of her hair tickling your forehead.

“i’m yours.”

there’s a mess pooling underneath your entangled bodies by the time you’re both finished.

for a few seconds, you both lay on your backs, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, until vi breaks the silence:

“did you say that you brought home a slice of cake?”

the two of you throw on some clothes, throw the sheets in the wash, and vi pulls you into her lap as you share the slice of cake at the kitchen table, chattering about everything and nothing for however long, until vi glances at the oven clock.

“shit — it’s midnight already. guess time flies when you’re having fun.” vi wraps her arms around your middle, and kisses your shoulder. “happy valentine’s day, stargirl.”

“happy valentine’s day, vi,” you smile, weaving your fingers through hers. you crane your neck back so you can feed her a bite of cake. “you’re the sweetest.”

“this cake’s pretty sweet, too,” vi jokes. she peppers kisses across your face until you’re giggling, skin sticky with frosting.

“i’m glad you like it,” you laugh. “they do wedding cakes, too, but i think we should explore our options before settling on one for ours.”

vi’s lips pause just as she starts to kiss underneath your jaw.

“do you mean for our wedding?” she smirks. “is there something you wanna ask me, stargirl?”

“damn it —” you cough, almost choking on a mouthful of cake. “i - i had this whole thing planned - wait, let me —”

you disappear into the bedroom and reemerge with an intricately painted vase. you hand it to vi and sit in the chair next to her.

“this is what i made in my pottery seminar,” you explain. “it’s supposed to be like —”

“that mural you made of us senior year,” vi finishes, looking between the vase and you with stars in her eyes.

“exactly. except we won’t have to spend saturday detention painting over it.” you chuckle at the memory as vi shakes her head with a small smile dancing across her lips knowingly. “i was gonna promise to bring my beautiful wife fresh flowers for this vase every week and then i was gonna ask you to look inside….” you gesture at vi to do so, and she reaches in to pull out a velvet box. “and then i was gonna get down on one knee —”

“it’s okay — you’ve already done plenty of that tonight,” vi laughs, and you bump her shoulder playfully.

“and i was gonna tell you that i love you, that i have for basically my whole life, and that i want to spend the rest of it with you,” you finish, heart fluttering in your chest.

“i can’t believe you were going to propose to me.” vi places the vase on the kitchen counter behind her, smiling at you softly.

“is that a yes or….?”

instead of answering, vi walks over to the couch, reaches behind and pulls up a heart-printed gift bag, and hands it to you. she watches intently as you pull out a turquoise-blue collar.

“damn, i did not know you were this kinky.” you raise an eyebrow at vi. “so, is this a yes to my proposal or….just something you just wanna try in the bedroom?”

“w-what? no!” vi stutters, her cheeks blooming pink. “i mean, yes! well – okay, i also had this plan for valentine’s day.” it’s very endearing, how vi’s scrambling to find the right words. your punk rock girlfriend, flustered and lovesick for you. “okay — there’s a dog at the shelter i thought we could adopt. i brought home the paperwork for us to fill out, if that’s what you want — it’s all in there. there’s a picture of him, too.”

you reach in the bag again and find a printed photo of an adorable brown lab with the warmest eyes.

“he’s adorable,” you squeal. “does he have a name?”

“scooby, of course.” vi grins. “so, do you wanna adopt a dog together?”

“i do.”

“i love the sound of that,” vi hums. “there’s one more thing in there for you….”

it’s a ring pop — and you’re not sure if it’s the sugar rush, or the woman getting down on one knee and asking you, so tenderly, so sweetly, to marry her, but your heart is absolutely soaring.

“we might have to tell our kids a more pg version of the night we got engaged,” vi whispers later, when you’re back cuddling in bed under fresh sheets.

“kids?” you twist around in vi’s arms to find her grinning at you. “is there something you want to ask me?”

“is scooby not our first child?” vi guffaws and you poke her ribs at her cheekiness.

“true.”

“besides, you know what they say, stargirl,” she practically sings. “first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes —”

you cut her off with a sugary, confetti-flavored kiss, your smiles melting into one.

1K notes · View notes

mochamadeleines · 5 months ago

Text

Sweethearts and Sweet Dreams <3

“Nothin’?”

“Mhm.”

“Whats behind your back then?”

You sway in place, trying to suppress a knowing smile. “I dont have anything behind my back.” (6.4k words)

tags!! - 18+ modern au! Husband! Joel Miller, Wife! Reader, you guys are happy and in love!, mutual obsession if u squint, lots of exposition im so freaking sorry, pervert Joel if u squint, praise kink joel if you squint, dumbification if you squint, written for those with daddy issues lowkeeyyyyy, written with game joel in mind but could be hbo joel no problem!, lowk i combined the two in my mind, mentions of shy old man joel, housewife! reader (by choice), unspecified age gap but reader is like. thirty? and joels Like...55??, talk about joel taking medication for his anxiety, p in v sex, dirty talk, public sex, outdoor sex, joel has a kink for dresses because i said so? service top joel if you squint, pet names, a pinch of jealousy and possessiveness for fun, playful banter, mentions of maria and tommy and their baby with a made up name Lol, mentions of ellie and sarah (rip), mentions of readers past abusive relationships, talk about joel struggling with substance abuse/addiction and being hospitalized.....Im sure u can theorize why </3, lots of lore ill get into in another fic MAYBE *smirks*, flip flop in perspective, sometimes showing what joel is thinking or what reader is thinking blah blah

authors notes!! - hi there!!! im mocha and this is my first joel fic ever + my first fic posted to tumblr!! im really nervous cuz i havent written anything in months and ive never written joel before so please let me know if you like it!! id love to write more of this au for u guys if theres a demand for it...Thank u for reading!! also barely proof read im ngl. ive been staring at this fic all day im sick of itttt. p.s i dont usually write smut i also kinda do idfk Is this bad or am i tweaking

You step out of the house, morning sun soaking into the roots of your hair and the driveway beneath your feet. Theres a package youve been waiting for.

You cant contain your grin as you wiggle it out of the hot prison that is your mailbox.

“What the hell are you doin’ out there barefoot?” Joel chastises you from the front door, leaning his elbow on the frame. Joel, your lovely husband of two years. Been together for five. And because of how hard he works, you have the privilege of being a stay at home wife. Some people think that sort of life is stifling, but youve never felt so free. No more jobs you hate, no more financial struggles. Just you, Joel, and your cat, Cement. He likes to pretend it isnt a totally hilarious name for a pet.

You were his first relationship in almost a decade, so it was a lot of work helping him unpack his anxieties about dating, and a lot of work for you to feel safe and unafraid. Honestly? Youve been mistreated by enough men to land you in the psychward.

But Joel never yells at you, he never breaks things when hes angry or threatens to hurt you. He might raise his voice every now and again, but its never because of something you did. Sometimes the stress of life is just too much.

He works hard, he loves his daughter- daughters- and he would do anything to keep you happy. Whatever you say goes, he says. Even now, you hardly argue. Of course you have disagreements, or off days thatd lead to one of you being especially moody, but the both of you do your best to communicate.

Behind that rough exterior, is someone who just wants to be needed.

You first met Joel at a youth center you volunteered at, he taught guitar, you taught arts and crafts. Joel says it was your smile and sense of humor that charmed him. It was his singing and southern accent for you.

Your favorite thing about Joel is how soft he gets around you. He says its because you make it easy to be soft.

Joel was a shy lover at first. He would get nervous just kissing you, or holding your hand. While most people become intimate very early on in their relationship, you and Joel didnt do anything sexual for the first five months of you dated. Sure, you almost did, plenty of times, but he would get so overwhelmed and cut things short. You broke two of your vibrators during this era of your relationship. Embarassing.

You remember your first time very vividly. Joel had worked back to back doubles trying to meet a deadline, and on the final day, after having barely spoken to you for almost a week, you had shown up to his house, unannounced. You were wringing water out of your jacket when he swung the door open.

“How-” Joel blinks a few times, stepping forward to examine the rainfall. “How long you been out here?”

“Not that long,” You lie and pick up the container you brought off the porch chair. Part of you had a hard time mustering up the courage to even knock on the door. Droplets of water cascade down your chin. “Hi, sorry. I know youre tired.”

He shakes his head, voice soft and warm. “S’fine. Now c’mon, youre gonna get sick.”

Youre seated at the little dining table next to the kitchen now, trying to let the sound of the rainfall ease your nerves.

Joel was quick to grab you a towel, and does the honors of drying your face and hair with it. “Why didnt you jus’ call me? Woulda gotten out of the shower faster if i knew you were gettin’ soaked out there like this.”

“I dunno, sorry.”

“An’ whatd i tell you about apologizin’ all the time?”

“Sor- Uh. Right. Okay.” You tighten your jaw. No more.

Joel moves behind you, now squeezing water out the ends of your hair. “Whas’ that?”

“Oh!-” You peel back the lid, showing it to him. “Old fashion cake donuts are your favorite right? I remember you saying you liked eating them with your coffee in the mornings so…I made these. Youve been working a lot lately and I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Joel gingerly grasps the container from your hands, looking into it. Theyre a warm golden brown, outside evenly fried, and the sweet scent of them hits his nose right away.

“I was just gonna leave them on the doorstep and call you to tell you they were there, but I wanted to see you.”

His adam's apple bobs as he swallows the dryness in his throat. Youre too good for him.

“Thank you very much.” He presses a kiss to your damp hair. “Now, lets get you into some dry clothes.”

Joel gives you a t-shirt and a pair of his boxers to keep you modest while your clothes wash and dry.

You wait patiently on his bed for the hot chocolate he promised you before you showered. Theres nothing to watch on the tv, so you just turn it off and reach for the lamp on his nightstand instead.

He comes in quietly, and sets the mug down beside the lamp. You finally come into focus, clear as day even under the low lighting.

“You uh.. You look nice.”

You blink. “I look nice?”

“In my shirt.”

That gets a smile out of you.

Joel tips his head towards the mug. “S’hot so, give it a few minutes. Dont want you burnin’ your mouth.”

You nod. “Okay.”

Hes sat beside you now and the two of you sit in silence for a while. Its not awkward, just the kind of silence where both of you want to say something but just.. Cant.

Joel unravels first. “Missed you, y’know. Just been tired.”

“I know.” Your voice wobbles, and Joels jaw tightens like hearing you sound so sad stings him. “I missed you, too.”

He slides his hand over yours, giving it a squeeze. Its okay.

“Hey Joel...Can I stay the night?”

“Sure. Id really like that.”

While you drink your hot chocolate, you and Joel catch up. You both talk about work, and about your new found interest in baking. Joel teases you about your lack of cooking skills, you do the same. Youre both useless.

When its time to climb into bed, neither of you can actually fall asleep. Joel rolls onto his side, away from you and the window. You follow, curling up like a little cat against his back. The sensation is nice for the both of you.

You speak up after a little while.

“Joel?”

“Mm.”

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

He scoffs, voice thick with exhaustion. “Like I'd force you to leave after you brought me such a nice present.”

You let out a little giggle, “So if i didnt, youd kick me out?”

“Id think ‘bout it.”

You gasp, gently shoving at his back. “Thats mean…!”

“S’really not.”

“Oh yeah? And what if I poisoned them?.”

“Then itd jus' be a regular day of your cookin’ then.” Joel reminds you, lighthearted. Too many times where you left the shells in your eggs or burnt toast or left the bacon on the pan for too long.

“You cant get mad at me for my dark past when you made a perfectly good sirloin taste like horse leather.”

“Ugh. Dont remind me. That was like putting a one-hundred dollar bill into a paper shredder. How do either of us stay alive again?”

“Uh. Digiorno?”

“Digiorno.”

After a few moments, Joels rolling over again, and hes guiding your head to settle against his chest. Your arms wrap around him, and his arms around you.

“Joel,” You whisper. He hums. “Im cold.”

“S’cause youre not wearin’ any pants.”

“And whos fault is that?”

“Still yours.”

“I was left out in the rain like a sad, sopping wet cat. One that was left in a box all alone with no family…” You pretend to sniffle. “Dont you feel bad for me?”

Joel sighs, not saying anything more except making sure the part of the comforter behind your back is tucked into your side so the cold air doesnt get in. When hes done, you do a little shimmy up his body, and throw your leg over his hip. Oh no.

Hes alert now. Very alert. Be normal. Joel hesitates, licking the dryness off his lips. “Uh. Feel better?”

“Mhm.” You push your face into his throat, cat-like, before settling down again. Hes like a radiator.

Actually scratch that, he cant be normal.

“Darlin’.” He rasps, patting your back to get your attention.

“Mm?”

“Your leg. Move it.”

A few beats pass. “Why?”

“Because…” Wow, he didnt think hed get this far. You shift forward and Joel lets out a quiet exhale through his nose, one that couldve been masked by the rain if you werent so close.

“Are you-”

“No! No. Its- Its not what you think-” He cant see your face in the darkness but he knows you feel the semi-hard struggling through the confines of his pants. Lame.

“Joel,” You say, soft. Your hands slide up his arm to cradle his jaw. Lightning flashes into the room, giving you a glimpse of Joels tight expression. He whispers your name back, just as soft.

“This is normal.”

Its normal, it is! Except for the fact that you guys havent had sex yet. The stress of being intimate is too much, kills his boner in a blink. The longer he waits the worse the anxiety gets.

“I-I know.”

You place a hand on his chest, feeling it pound away like crazy through all the soft muscle.

“Youve been taking your medication, right?”

Has he?

The silence of him thinking is proof enough. “Joel-”

He sighs, rubbing his eyes through the darkness .“I know, I know. Shoot, Im sorry. I just forget sometimes.”

“Its okay.” The pad of your thumb strokes the tops of his cheek, and you press a tender kiss to his mouth to soothe him. “...Want me to remind you?”

The softness of your lips has him a bit dazed. “Huh?”

“I said, do you want me to remind you? I can- You know, call you before you leave work. Make sure you take them.”

“You know I wake up at five-o-clock in the mornin’ , right?”

“I know.”

In a whisper, “Okay.”

Joels rough palms trail down your back and stop at the curve of your butt, finger tips delicately tracing the skin above your shorts. You shiver.

Barely above a whisper. “We dont have to go all the way.”

He says your name again, laced with worry. He doesnt want you to feel pressured.

You pull your leg off his hip and push yourself up, settling your hands on either side of Joels head.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yes-”

“-And you cant get all in your head about it. You stay here, with me. You stay present.”

“Okay, okay.” He nods, a bit defeated. “I will stay present.”

“When you...When you say you dont wanna have sex, what is it that youre thinking exactly? I know you said you just get really nervous but I feel like youre not being totally honest.”

Joel stays quiet, idly rubbing your sides. Maybe you are a cat. Just getting to feel any part of you is soothing. “I jus’ want you to feel good. ‘Fraid ill do somethin’ you dont like.”

“You cant assume how I feel, Joel. Being intimate.. It takes time to learn what the other person likes.”

He sighs. “I know.” Youre always right.

Adding on, “Like I said, we dont have to go all the way,” You lean further back, situating yourself on his hips. He lets out a shaky breath when he feels the pressure of your ass through his sweats.

“But, I want to start somewhere. I want to feel you.”

“Fuck- Um-” Hes shaking now, letting you grind your hips down onto him. Joel cant seem to control the way his hips instinctively push up to meet yours. Youre both becoming of a mess of little gasps and hot breaths and tiny whimpers already.

You hunch forward, guiding his hand under your your shirt- His shirt- letting him feel up the supple skin of your stomach, then the area where your ribs are, then your-

“And I want you to feel me,”

Surprisingly, you did actually go all the way that night.

Your sex life was a bit of a rocky start, but after Joel got over most of his anxiety, you learned quickly just how goddamn insatiable he was. Five years in and he still regularly makes you sore.

There are a couple things you learned about him and his sexual interests. He loves to take you in his truck, in your kitchen, in your bathroom, on your couch. Other, riskier places. Anywhere that isnt your bed apparently, not that he isnt fucking you there either.

Joel is handsy, so handsy infact it embarasses you to no end, especially when youre infront of others. Thats usually how it starts, too. First he kisses you, then gropes your hips and your ass, and the next thing you know, youre cumming on his fingers. Then hed bend you over, or get you on your back, or make you ride him. Is it really riding if hes just slamming up into you until your brain turns into mush?

He likes that too. Making you not think.

Youd be lying if you said its only ever him. Sleepy morning handjobs before work, whining to him over the phone and touching yourself to his voice, arching your back into him while you're washing dishes, sucking him off after hours in his office.

And while most men prefer lingerie or little costumes, Joel likes dresses. Dresses that are discreet so he can take you in the backyard when he comes home early and sees you gardening. Or when youre both at a friends house and hes had a little too much to drink and finds himself alone with you. Dresses that make it easy to play his favorite game with you. I touch you, and you make sure we dont get caught by being too loud. Joel really is the worst sometimes.

Now, you only ever wear pants when its cold, or to bed or sometimes when youre lounging, like today. Youre in some shorts and a tank top. Otherwise, its dresses all year round, usually retro styles or ones meant for spring. Joels not picky though, he loves any dress on you.

Even if you wear an extremely modest, white lacey sleep dress, looking like some kind of vintage ghost, the man would still keep you up all night. And he has. He said you looked like a princess. You guess you kind of did.

The entire thing is like an unspoken arrangement between you both. He doesnt tell you to wear them, you just do.

And he works hard to spoil you, so why not buy as many cute dresses as possible?

You got a cute dress today too, on the same day Joel has off. You think its going to be a new favorite of his.

The big polymailer stays hidden behind your back. Be casual. “Uh- Nothing!”

“Nothin’?”

“Mhm.”

“Whats behind your back then?”

You sway in place, trying to suppress a knowing smile. “I dont have anything behind my back.”

“Lemme see then. Show me your hands-”

“Hey, Mrs. Miller!”

Both you and Joel turn your heads to the voice, and only one of you has the energy to fake a a smile. Your neighbor is stopping in his driveway, having come back from a jog it looks.

“Hi, Lee.”

Joel really, really, really doesnt like Lee. You dont like him either, but youre not one to cause problems. Lee on the other hand, is. Hes a bit younger than you, and a lot younger than Joel. Hes one of those tech dudes with a massive ego, thinks that youll be swayed by his money and his “charm” and youth as if youre some sad housewife in need of saving. Gross.

And another thing, Lee doesnt even actually live here! Hes here ever so often to visit his dad between, you dont know, tech expos? You forget. Joel believes he started showing up more often to see you.

Youre walking towards the porch again. Joels looking especially unhappy to see him today, knuckles pulled taut into a fist. His lips stay pressed into a thin line, careful not to let anything slip out. He usually lets you do most of the talking, as much as it pains him.

Joels really not a fan of the way Lees eyes take a trip up your bare legs. Little shit.

“Out with no shoes again, Mrs. Miller?”

“You know me, Im uh- Im weird.”

“The weird ones do it best.” He smiles, all teeth. It gives you the creeps. His attention is on Joel now. Its like watching a puppy try to one up a wolf. “Right, Joel?”

“Uh huh.” Whatever that means.

“Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, Mrs. Miller.” Lee crosses into your driveway and you glance briefly at Joel, as if to make sure he isnt going to start growling at the other to stay away. Youre clutching the package to your chest now.

“Have you ever been to a support group for uh- you know, the spouses of addicts? I have a friend from work and shes really struggling.”

Lees tone is sugary sweet, but the fake kind you put in diet soda except that stuff is way better. Joel sighs from the door. You stand there, dumbfounded on the porch steps because what the fuck is he going on about.

You clear your throat, keeping your voice firm. “No. Ive never needed to.”

Joels voice cuts in like a knife. “Been clean for almost twenty years now.”

“Yeah but, you know,” He shrugs, squinting a bit under the morning sun. “Relapses happen.”

Joel and Lee are at a stand still, and the moment Joel lets the arm leaning on the frame drop to his side, you know youre in for a lot of trouble. You move quickly towards the door. “We have to get ready for a- uh- a thing? but Im sorry about your friend.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Miller. Im doing my best to support her.” And before he turns away, he just has to be slimy to you. “If you need someone to talk to, Im here for you.”

“No, that really wont be necess-”

Joels slinging a strong arm around you to yank you back inside before shutting the door.

“Motherfucker,” He hisses to himself, stomping through the walkway and into the kitchen.

“How-” You rub your eyes, letting them adjust to the light inside of the house. You put the package down onto the bar counter that opens up the kitchen and follow Joel to the fridge. “How does he know?? I thought-”

“Been living in this house for decades now,” His expression is tight, brows knitted together while he chugs a bottle of water. “People talk. ‘Specially if I'm being rolled into an ambulance on more than one occasion.” Joel frowns. “Fuck- I shoulda punched him in the fuckin’ face- Do you see how hard he tries so hard to flirt with you infront’a me?”

“I know, love. I was there.” You take the bottle from his hand and set it to the side, then wrap your arms around him. “Try not to let it get to you okay?”

Joel sighs into your hair, giving your body a squeeze. “I know, I know, but jus’ hearin’ him tryin’ta use my baggage to make a pass at you…S’fuckin’ evil.”

“I agree, but I dont want his blood on the driveway.”

“So get it on his driveway instead, got it.”

You giggle and tip your head up to kiss him. The tension eases from Joels shoulders, and he cups your cheeks, letting his worries melt away into your mouth. When the pads of his fingers start to slide under your tank top, youre leaning back. Youll be here for a while if this goes any further.

Joel mindlessly chases your lips, looking a bit pouty now that its over.

“Im gonna start getting ready for the barbecue, okay?”

“This early?”

“I like being punctual.”

“My brother wont give a damn if were late.” He noses your jaw, pressing a kiss here and there. Your knees are beginning to feel weak. The bastard is trying to distract you.

“But I do. The farmers market opened today, and I promised Maria I'd get her fresh strawberries before we got there, remember?”

“Alright, alright.” He grumbles into your shoulder.

Joel lets you go, watching you round the bar counter to get your package and disappear upstairs.

Ever since you came down to a freshly showered Joel, and got into the car with the gift bags you prepared for Maria and Tommy, Hes been staring at you. One wrong move and the drools gonna start pouring out of his mouth.

Your hair is in its relatively natural state, freshly washed and shiny from the oil you put in it. You put on some light makeup, and went a bit heavy handed on the blush to look sunkissed, and topped it off with a flavored lip gloss Joel especially enjoys.

Now, the dress. Its a pink floral mid-length dress, with a low cut sweetheart neckline and a corset style backing to cinch your waist and push out your chest. The material is thick and pretty, and there are two other layers under the skirt to keep its shape. You have on a pair of little pink pumps with little bows to match.

The drive to the farmers market is fairly peaceful, the windows are half down and theres music playing at low volume on the radio. You and Joel have different tastes in music, but one genre you can always agree on is alternative rock.

The weathers beautiful, sun high in the sky, and its not too hot or humid. The day really is perfect. Youre gonna soak up some sun when youre at the barbecue. Hopefully, they made lemonade again too.

Joel has been mostly quiet throughout your shopping. While it would worry some, youve been with him long enough to know that he just has a lot on his mind. What hes thinking about? Maybe youll learn when you make it back home at the end of the day.

You gasp, strolling through the grass to a stand with a mountain of apples. Granny smith, Macintosh, Pink Ladys, Honeycrisp, the works. He grunts, trying to keep the things that are already in your basket steady. You came for strawberries and are going to leave with much more than that.

Joel nudges you softly. “Remember, this is quality stuff, meaning itll go bad faster. Dont get too much.”

“Okay, got it.” You beam, and then begin inspecting the Pink Lady apples first, trying to find the ones with the best color. He keeps the basket within reach so you can drop your picks in.

"These were Sarahs favorites."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, it was funny 'cause we started arguin' over these or Red Delicious. I think Red Delicious is better."

"Thats so cute! Hmm. Should we get one for her? A Pink Lady?"

"Uh," He thinks on it for a moment, unsure, but the smile on your face helps him make a decision. "Sure, why not."

You drop two perfect Pink Ladys into the basket, moving onto the next pile.

“Hey, Joel.” You grin, holding out a wrinkled granny smith apple. “This one looks like you”

“Ha ha.” He deadpans, and grabs it from you to put back. In turn, hes reaching for the runt of the pile. A pathetically small one sitting near the bottom. “Now this one looks like you.”

“Does not!”

“Does too.”

The next stand has golden kiwis, and youre practically dragging Joel forward to try them. You ask for one, and the man at the stand slices it into halves, giving you a plastic spoon to go with.

You let Joel smell it first. “S’good.”

“Lets see if it tastes good.”

You sink your spoon into it, humming when you see how soft and easy it is to scoop out. In your mouth it goes!

Its tastes sweet, a bit mango-y and fucking delicious. You bounce in place, spoon feeding Joel next. “Oh yeah,” He smiles, smacking his lips a bit to really let the taste settle on his tongue. “Were takin’ some of these.”

You take one, then two, then three and four then five and as you reach for the sixth one, Joels stopping you with a gentle hand.

“Darlin’.”

“Right.”

For the next few stands its just you and Joel trying various kinds of fruit. Starfruit, blueberries, some mangos, and then youre going back to the truck.

“I think my favorites were the mangos and golden kiwis. I hope Maria and Tommy have enough space in their fridge for all of this.”

“They moved into a bigger house, I reckon their fridge s’probably bigger, too.”

“What time is it?”

You let go of Joels arm so he can switch the basket from one hand to the other.

“‘Bout…” Hes squinting at his watch. “12:34 in the afternoon.”

“Oh! Guess we got the shopping done sooner than I expected. Hmm. Should we stop somewhere in the mean time?-" You snap your finger when you remember something. "They opened up this cafe that has cats in it! We can drink coffee and play with them for bit! The next fourty-five minutes will go by super fast."

“Youre gonna make Cement jealous.”

You bat your hand dismissively. “Hes not gonna caaare.”

“Oh yes he will. And remind me again why we named our cat Cement?

“Uh, we were both drunk and had gotten him the day before without a name picked out?”

“A whole year later and we still kept it. Worst pet owners ever.” Joel chuckles, opening the passenger door for you like he always does.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

The giant basket of fruit goes into the back seat next to the gift bags before Joel slots himself into the drivers seat.

You fumble with the radio a bit, trying to see what else is on but ultimately landing back on your preferred station. Theyve been playing a lot of Linkin Park recently. Hell yeah. Joel buckles himself in at last, and pulls out of the parking lot.

“Marias gonna teach me how to make baked chicken,” You hum, gazing outside the window.

“You sure youre not jus’ unteachable?”

“Ha ha,” You lightly shove his shoulder, making him smile. “I thought you loved the meat sauce pasta I learned how to make.”

He settles into his seat more comfortably at the stop light, elbow rested on the window. “Got me with that one. Think I like ground turkey over beef, though.”

“Yeah? Me too. The beef tastes better but the turkey is lighter. Stops me from feeling all sick.”

“Agreed.”

Youre looking out the windshield now. Where did all the buildings go? Youre out of the city.

“Uh, Joel?”

“Mm?”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere to kill time.”

“Yeah but where?”

“Youll see.”

Your brows pinch together. “I see a whole lot of nothing except for trees."

“Almost there.”

Joel makes a hasty left turn onto some campgrounds. Your stomach starts to twist into excited knots. Is he gonna show you a baby deer or something? Bunnies? He used to be a park ranger for this area, and would tell you stories about all sorts of baby animals hed run into.

The car comes to a stop, and he turns the engine off. Silence.

“So…Were out in the woods to kill time?”

“Mhm.” Joel unbuckles his seat belt and twists into the back to grab the spare jacket he usually keeps there, then gets out of the truck and comes around the back to open the door for you.

He holds your hand to help you get down from the passenger side, and as soon as both of your shoes hit the ground Joel is on you.

You dont know where your hands should go, youve kissed Joel a thousand times and yet you still get so flustered when he catches you by surprise. You keep your hands on his shoulders for now, letting him press wet kisses to your neck and shoulder.

“This is new right? The dress?” He gives your ass an appreciative squeeze through the fabric. “Thought you looked so pretty when you came down stairs in it.”

Your heads spinning. Something about your dress?

“Woulda been okay if you let me have you earlier.” He pulls away, examining your flushed face cradled by his hand. Every part of you just fits so well in his palms. “Then I thought, why not have you now? We got time to spare.”

“Joel- We- Someone could see us-” You sputter, and Joels already shaking his head with a knowing smirk. He pulls you around to the bed of the truck, popping it open, only pausing to spread open the jacket he grabbed, just having just thrown it in there when he came around to get you.

“No ones gonna come lookin’ for us.” He turns you around, pushing you down onto your front. “As long as youre quiet.”

Fuck. You really hate this game. At least, you like to tell yourself that.

Blood rushes to your ears while Joels rough palms lift up the skirt of your dress, exposing your ass and thighs to the cool air. He whistles from behind you.

“Red lace panties?” His fingers dont shy away from tracing along the fabric covering your cunt. “This new too?”

You crane your neck over your shoulder to look at his face. “Uh.. Surprise?”

Joels smiling now, fingers dipping under the lace. “Thas' awfully sweet of you.”

His touch slips and slides around your growing wetness, then trails down to your clit. Your voice wobbles a bit and fuck- fuck hes going too fast. “Joel- Ah-” You whimper and try to push yourself up to look at him but his hand is steady on your spine, keeping you down.

Smug, “Go on, sweetheart. Keep sayin’ my name. Jus’ like that.”

A whine escapes you when he pulls away, “Nooo.” You push your ass back, as if to entice him. You succeed, because hes skipped his usual routine of fucking you with his hands and is now unbuckling his belt.

Joel rolls you onto your back, and peels your underwear all the way off, bunching it up and shoving it into his back pocket. Your face burns just watching him.

“Think i'll hold onto these for a lil’ while.”

His hands push the back of your knees towards your chest, exposing your heat. Youll never get used to the way he just seems so interested just watching your cunt squeeze around nothing.

“Thats-” You swallow, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. "Joel.”

“Relax." He coos, "Seen it a thousand times already, and ill be seein' it a thousand more. Get used to it, honey.”

Your attention flickers down to where his dick is about to meet your entrance. Joels nudging you down onto your back again and pulling the top of your dress down to expose your chest. Its when youre distracted that he actually moves to push himself in.

Both of you groan together, and Joel could never get bored of fucking you, not when your cunt just pulses around him everytime hes inside you.

Joel wastes no time fucking you once he eases all the way inside. Youre trying your best to keep quiet. Shit is no easy task. Its like Joel is trying to get you guys arrested.

He props himself up with a hand near your head, and lets the other keep one of your legs pinned open. The moans start to claw out of your throat. “Joel- Joel-”

“Shh. Thas’ enough.” He growls through his teeth, fucking you harder. “Youre gonna- Gh- Get us caught-”

Something rustles between the trees, making you both freeze. You clasp your hands over your mouth, watching Joel straighten up to look around.

After a few seconds of squinting, Joel can see a few foxes moving about through the trees. Thank fuck. His shoulders visibly relax.

Hushed, “E-Everything okay?”

“Yeah, jus’ some animals.”

And like that, hes back to it. His dick is going to make your eyes permanently stay rolled into your head.

Joel is always just so handsome when hes pounding into you. His forehead gets shiny with sweat, and his jaw is tight from clenching his teeth, keeping himself quiet so he can focus on your moans. His face is noticeably redder against his usual farmers tan too. Really, hes just so attractive.

A flurry of yes and harder and fuck spills out of your mouth and into your palms. Not too loud, you try to remind yourself.

“Joel- S’too much-”

“Nah, thas’ not it.” He huffs, humorous. “You can take it. Y'always do. In fact, you love gettin’ your cunt bullied by me, aint that right?” As if to get his point across, he thrust in all the way to the hilt, making you keen. You forgot how to breathe, lungs drawing tight in your chest.

"Fuck," You manage to squeeze out.

Your palms push weakly at his shoulders, trying to ground yourself somehow. His head drops to the junction of your neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply.

“You good?” He checks in, breath hot on your skin. As if your crying isnt enough.

“So g-good, Joel- Fuck- Youre so good.”

With a little nod, Joels pushing himself up, switching to slow and deep strokes, really digging himself into you, and trying to find that spot he likes to call home.

He massages your chest, then squeezes your sides and your hips and finally, his thumb finds your clit. Immediately, you jolt.

“Oh fuck-”

“Quiet.” And he says it to keep the charade going, even though his favorite thing is hearing your sobs.

His thumb rubbing incessantly against your that sweet little nub of yours. You choke, and Joels chuckling, watching the way you squirm, body not knowing whether it should lean into his touch because its too good or away because its too much.

It starts with this firey feeling under the pad of his thumb, then deep inside your stuffed cunt. Youre going to cum.

Your hands fly to your mouth again, and you get all wide eyed from the sensation. Its cute. Your muscles pull taut, legs locking around Joels hips. Youre wailing into your palm when it happens.

“Good girl,” His voice soothes you through it. “Very good.”

He pets away the fly aways sticking to your sweaty face when its over. Your eyes drop shut while you catch your breath.

Joels moving again now. He rolls his hips a few times, and thumb is building the foundation of another orgasm in you. Youre shaking badly.

Your words slur too, “Cant- Too soon- Joel- Joel-”

“Another one.” Joel says firmly, but breathless.

Youre gasping, not sure where to focus your eyes. The trees around you look like theyre spinning. Your attention is back on Joel, whos looking rather satisfied watching you squirm and cry. If thats how wants to play, then fine.

Your hands slide up Joels biceps, and rests on the nap of his neck to bring him down. “Juh-Joel,” You pant, cradling his face with both hands. “Youre so good- The best-”

Oh, Joel likes that one, you can tell by the way he looks away briefly. Shyness. Excitement runs up your spine. Joel loves being told hes doing well.

“You are- Nghh-” You swallow the drool in your mouth, trying to get the words out clearly. “The best husband I could ever ask for.”

Joel wheezes, head dropping into the curve of your shoulder. “Please.”

“S’true,” You nod rapidly, fingers curling into his hair. “Youre so good to me and-and youre mine and- Joel- Im yours.”

“Jesus-” He groans, soaking up the feeling of you pressing kisses to his face and up his jaw.

“Hhah- No one else can have me, okay? No one- Not even-”

The name doesnt even come out of your mouth before Joels coming to a stop to slip his arms all the way around your middle. With the new leverage he has on your body, hes drilling his way into you. You fucking squeal, rules now long forgotten. Youre a useless ragdoll in his arms and he wouldnt have it any other way.

Your lips are shiny with spit and left over lip gloss, and he can still taste the mintiness in his tongue. Every now and again your eyes drop shut, but his dick just punches into your guts a little harder. Look at me.

Your brain is mush, just the way he likes it, and youre perfectly pliant in his arms, babbling over how good you feel. Hes kisses along the valley of your breasts now, stopping to suck the flesh of your nipples.

Youre just so pretty. Even when you have bedhead, or youre snotty from a cold, or youre all dirty from working in the garden youre still so pretty. Including now, all sweaty with you lipgloss all smudged and your mascara starting to run. Youre perfect.

Joel grunts loud, jaw clenched tight as he gets lost in the feeling of your insides. His perfect little wife.

When he cums, hes doubling over with a loud grunt, getting a few last thrusts in before his spent floods your cunt.

Youre blinking away your tears, now watching the clouds inch along the sky. It really is a beautiful day. You pet Joels sweaty hair, and kiss the side of his temple. Your core throbs faintly. Jesus, he did a number on you.

“Love,” You say softly, patting his back.

“Mm?”

“Get up.” Another pat. “Youre squishing me.”

Joel backs off to buckle himself up, but you stay seated to catch your breath and adjust your dress. At least it didnt get ripped during all the… Commotion. Not like last time.

“I need my underwear back.”

“Nope,”

“Joel.”

He kisses the center of your forehead and helps you down from the bed and into the passenger seat instead. “Told you i'm keepin’ ‘em.”

You sputter, “I cant go to barbecue commando!”

“Sure you can.” He pops open the glove compartment and gets out some tissues, hand snaking under your dress again to clean you. You sigh softly at the sensation.

“Youre the worst.”

“I am indeed the worst.” Joel pulls the seatbelt over your chest and clicks it in. “You can tell me all about it on the way to Tommys.”

#joel miller #the last of us #hbo joel miller #the last of us part 1 #the last of us season one #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller x you #fanfic #mocha writes #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal #modern au #smut fic #might cross post to ao3 idk...#pleeaaaase tell me if u guys like this #glaze me glaze me glaze me #Lie 2 me and say u love it...

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fafodill · 16 days ago

Text

On Snape depriving himself sexually...

SO, I got hyperfocused and I hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I needed only one person to tell me they were interested so thank you @severus-snaps haha. And thank you @wisteria-lodge for encouraging me !

This is a continuation of my previous post about Snape's relation with intimacy. I'm always a sucker for the pent up and deprived trope and I feel like Snape could fit the profile perfectly. Of course this is complete HC, as we literally have zero information about him having any personal life whatsoever so... pure speculation and meta discussion. Let's have fun, buckle up, here is why I think he'd make a great candidate for it :

Early teens: Many of us tend to interpret Snape as sexually inexperienced. This of course comes partly from his unpopularity in school, a time where teenagers start experimenting a bit. It's hard to imagine the little scrawny greasy potion nerd getting a lot of action. Though I'm open to thinking something might have happened here and there. I mean, girls also like smart and scrawny guys, I would love to read a fic where a Ravenclaw or Slytherin has a crush on him and he's utterly clueless because he's too engrossed in his books and when he realizes he's so flustered and clumsy about it. And they snog in the library and he's so afraid of getting caught by Mrs Pince. But being consistently bullied would have hurt his reputation, thus making people avoid being associated with him to not become targets as well. Also, his bullies were good-looking guys and it may have contributed to highlighting his bad looks in the public eye way more than if he had been left alone. And just with the nickname alone, but you won't tell me James and Sirius never insulted his nose, his hair, his complexion or his thin frame.

So one of the first core belief that might have emerged and latched itself to his sexuality would have been: I'm ugly/repelling.

But we don't have any proof in canon that he wasn't interested in romantic/sexual interactions back then. For all we know, he was a socially awkward teenager going through puberty. Even if he was certainly anxious and angry due to the bullying, he was still going through the same hormone cocktail as everyone.

HC : I've been wondering how the students find places to masturbate in peace and of course we don't exactly know why he invented the Muffliato charm but give me a Snape who was too whimpery to be completely silent and used it for this.

Post SWM though, I think it's safe to assume the trauma scared him unconsciously regarding the subject. Being perceived before wasn't easy, as he was aware he wasn't exactly good-looking and his self-esteem was impacted for sure, but after... oh boy. I can imagine him so traumatized that the mere idea of undressing in the vicinity of people was making his blood freeze. This may have led to hygiene issues as well, or only feeling safe to shower in the dead of night or at times where the dormitories where utterly empty. The shame linked to having his body and underwear exposed could have definitely stunned his sexual awakening as it happened at such a crucial age. How can you safely explore your own sexuality if every time you think about how ugly you are and that so many people saw your body and laughed at it ? (and the adults doing nothing to punish the people who did that hammered the beliefs that he was indeed laughable)

So second core belief added: I'm ridicule.

Also the SWM incident might have triggered his need to cover/shield his body from head to toe at all time and nobody can convince me otherwise.

At the very least I imagine masturbating would then be heavily linked to the anger and shame of that moment. The memory would either unlock or at least impact it unconsciously in some way, marking the act with a profound bitterness or stopping it altogether. The result: every time his body would ask for attention, he'd be overcome with very intense traumatic feelings and have no idea how to deal with them; so he'd start recoiling instinctively from any sexual thought. Also, since undressing/changing clothes became a triggering act, being even partially nude to touch himself would also stress him immensely.

So instead of indulging, he'd start developing coping mechanisms like focusing on anything else that brought him a sense of pleasure to trick his brain : potions, the dark arts, creating spells etc.

And of course, we can assume that even if someone was trying to approach him at that point, he'd recoil like a wounded animal, expecting mockery and reacting very aggressively.

After Hogwarts: We don't know what might have happened during his 3-4 years after school. We have a lot of creative space, though we know he got a Potion Mastery (??) so he must have studied somewhere and he was active within the DE circles. As @maxdibert pointed in a few posts - which I think is an astute point - the Dark Lord was aware of the affection/attraction Severus had felt towards Lily and, to prove his disinterest, he might have engaged with a few pureblood women. We could speculate on different situations here (and if anyone's interested we could explore this), but as I'm going for deprived!Snape, I'd say it wasn't helpful. At this point he's a young adult, torn between his inexperience and his limboing self-esteem. On top of that he's a deeply proud individual, obsessed with controlling the way he's being perceived. He's already occlumenting his emotions to remain safe, and well, engaging sexually does require some sort of vulnerability he isn't capable of at that point.

Maybe he said some harsh things to his partners when confronted with his clumsiness (even if they were kind), maybe he got bit back (and deserved it). He'd use these instances as confirmation bias to convince himself intimacy wasn't something emotionally safe, interesting nor even remotely pleasant enough.

Then there's Lily's death, and I personally don't see her as having a lot of influence on his sexuality directly (except maybe for the fact that when he had feelings for her, he might have felt she was 'too pretty for him', which fed the first core belief), but it did fuel a ton the last core belief which is : I'm undeserving (because I'm a bad person).

The undeserving part existed prior to her death. It stemmed from his upbringing (undeserving of care), of his social status (undeserving of material comfort), his blood status (undeserving of opportunities), his social awkwardness (undeserving of friendship), his special interest in the dark arts (undeserving of respect).

Lily's death crystallized such deep guilt inside of him that he devoted his life after that to atoning. I'm a firm believer that there's a clear before and after regarding the way he treated his body. Not that things were drastically different, but it made it worse. He ate less, slept less and touched himself even less. Probable not at all for a good few months, maybe even up to a year or so as he was extremely stressed from his new job, depressed and overcomed with grief. Honestly, at that point in his life he was barely functioning.

Then we have his adult life at Hogwarts: at that point in his life he's working and living where his worst trauma occurred. Not great for healing. During those years, he mastered the art of shutting down with occlumency everything he couldn't deal with, including his body's basic needs. He had excuses for everything. Sleeping? How could he rest when he had so much work to do dealing with the little shitheads and that infuriating Headmaster? Eating? Pfft, he had been fine all his childhood, so now he'd eat what he needed to function, but craving something and getting it wasn't something he'd allow himself. Masturbating? Tricky part, because he almost never thought about it anymore. He would not even treat it as a basic need. Like, sleep and food were still required to function, even in limited amount or he would pass out, but he could function without sex. Bottom line is, deep down he would feel undeserving of any sort of pleasure.

Rewarding his body, taking care of it wasn't allowed. It was part of his self-inflicted punishment.

But it would be still natural for his body to seek sexual release from time to time. He'd have hard-ons sometimes in the morning and ignore it until it went away, maybe take a cold shower or - why not - even take a potion he'd have invented to calm it down (or worse, to make it hurt so it would go down, if you want to go the masochistic way). The way I see it, every time he'd have an unwanted sensual/sexual thought (oh, this person at the Three Broomsticks has disarmingly pretty lips, this other person's got very elegant hands, or this one's hips look live they're meant to be grabbed), he'd shut it down immediately.

Fantasizing wouldn't be pleasant either. Each time, it would trigger the self-depreciating thoughts. Who are you fooling ? This person would never touch you, never look at you. And if they did, you wouldn't deserve it and would fuck it up anyway. Faceless people then, but it would still always be tainted with the ghost of years of bitterness, loneliness and unmet needs. So it'd be easier to pretend he doesn't have them or doesn't care. Of course this would do nothing to soothe his sour mood (and here talking from experience: I've been sexually frustrated quite a lot in my twenties, and I can definitely say that the mental relief you feel alongside the physical release when you get it is quite something. Like, I'd be a changed person, just because chemically my brain would finally be swimming again in endorphins. So yeah, at that point in his life I believe he's in dire need of a good shag and is partly always on edge because of this).

And when he would indulge in masturbation, it'd be because he's too tired to fight it or just because he knows that if he does, his body would leave him alone for a while. It would be quick, mechanical, in the dark, the mess cleaned up immediately and then forgotten about. The less thinking involved, the better so it wouldn't trigger the core beliefs. Maybe it'd happen when being tipsy after a night out with the other professors, or just when he was too stressed or exhausted at the end of terms and it was his body's way of asking for a break and a distraction.

I think he'd be also more prone to having his sexual needs resurface when he's not at Hogwarts and the mental toll of being there isn't weighing on him (maybe during summer or maybe even if he goes into the Forbidden Forest to gather potion ingredients, or a trip to Diagon Alley). He would find it really annoying, not realizing how the two are linked.

Then how would he be dealing with the constant tension and redirecting the release ? (fun stuff)

I think he could get a sick pleasure from being able to not indulge for long periods of time, thriving on his sense of control. He'd maybe even feel shame when he finally does, chastising himself for being weak.

When too tired to notice, late at night in his office, his body would hijack control a little bit and he'd start rubbing himself unconsciously with one hand while correcting essays and immediately stop upon realizing.

He'd be a GREAT candidate for edging. Like telling himself that if there's no release it doesn't count and he could get some pleasure whilst still shaming and punishing himself. Maybe sometimes even without touching himself directly, just letting the fabric rub on him, while shifting his hips just a bit. A good compromise he wouldn't want to analyze too closely.

Being pent up all the time makes one irritable, so some of that tension is fueling his already short-tempered nature and getting out by lashing out at idiots. It would also be a way to... spill out but with words (classy I know).

I don't see him doing any sport to get endorphins and relieve tension (though he does prowl the castle at night, that counts as walking haha).

The only part of his body I could see him pay attention to would be his hands as he uses them for potion work. He could be proud of their dexterity and I can imagine him taking care of them. Like, once of twice a week he'd put a cream or an ointment (self-made ofc) and massage his fingers and palms. Nothing sexual about it but it would be the closest he has to a gentle self-touch.

But mostly, his sole source of pleasure would still come from focusing on his interests. Working all night on improving a new potion, loosing himself in the method and appreciating his own skills, or reading about and experimenting with the Dark Arts (I don't think he ever stopped seeking knowledge, which is why he was able to save Dumbledore's ass from Marvolo's ring). These two things are his private garden, something that's inherently his despite everything, and it would be his way of pleasuring himself in an acceptable way: intellectually.

But what about the people around him or potential partners ?

He'd hate any sexual jokes or comments about him or in general. Sexually open people would make him angry (jealous). It'd irk him. As it's such a loaded and repressed subject for him he'd see them as flaunting their unspoken good experiences. He'd try to unconsciously shame them into silence by telling them they're being inappropriate. At the end of the day, it's just his way of protecting himself because he wouldn't know how to navigate the conversation, and his pride wouldn't let him feel ridiculed again.

He would also hate being looked at, even clothed. People judging his body would definitely trigger the awful memory from SWM. He would struggle immensely to accept the possibility of being looked at in an appraising way. If someone was sincere and stubborn enough to convince him they're not lying, he'd be extremely confused and wary.

And if he was to be attracted to that person as well, he'd have to deal with an almost second puberty on top of his core beliefs. He'd be so clumsy, so out of touch with his body and very frustrated with all the unwanted sensations he's not used to deal with. And that's such an interesting and fascinating subject aaaah.

At the end of the day, deep down he doesn't believes he deserves pleasure or comfort in his life so a partner would have to be patient with him. There's a lot of strategies they could try and I'd be delighted to explore them but I'm gonna stop here because this essay is so long already haha. SO, in conclusion:

He needs a good shag.

Thank you for reading.

I'd love to discuss how it would go with different characters trying to approach him, or I could talk about the classic trope of losing control because of his short temper but with him deprived, so many possibilties aaah, I love it when he's angry AND horny AND clumsy-

Also, my current favorite oneshot of deprived!Snape here : Cursed into Temptation by @marvel-snape-writes (very smutty, amazing, I'm on my knees)

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