Alex (Vi's wife)

“The only thing I found on their sexuality was that they were queer. It doesn’t explicitly state on any official media that they’re lesbians. It’s possible they’re bi or pan, and while I agree it’s probable they’re lesbians, this was also a request. I wasn’t going to not write it, even if I don’t fully believe they’re not lesbians. Especially since the official media only states that they’re queer. I don’t accept hate on my page, and I’m not going to shame the requester because they like the characters. If official media stated them as 100% lesbians it would also be a bit different. I’ve gotten some comments on this, and while I don’t support erasing sexualities in canon media, again…it only states they’re queer.”

So to @ijwrsmff, you say you did your research, no? I call absolute bullshit.

“They’re only stated as queer” 

“It doesn’t explicitly state on any official media that they’re lesbians”

I’ve done ACTUAL research, unlike you, and here are all the OFFICIAL sources i’ve personally found that explicitly establish vi and caitlyn as lesbians. Keep in mind, these were extremely easy to find, so your lazy ass has absolutely no excuse for claiming you conducted “research” while somehow failing to uncover a single one of these sources, or just a single source in general.

A tweet posted by the official League of Legends account during 2025. Official art for Pride Month, where cait is clearly shown with a lesbian flag literally ON HER. [click for link]

Official Riot Games website. “CELEBRATE PRIDE 2023” with a picture of vi wearing a lesbian pin. [click for link]

Ben Forbes (DRAGGLES), who is part of the comms and community teams for League of Legends and League of Legends: WILD RIFT. And is currently the Editor-in-Chief for 2XKO, Riot's upcoming 2D fighting game. [click for link to read more about him]

Why did i mention Ben Forbes? Because he made this post in 2025 [click for link], explicitly stating that vi is NOT bi, nor any other sexuality, but rather strictly LESBIAN. More importantly, he explicitly stated that the narrative team had specifically asked him to make that statement publicly. So unless you’re suggesting that a member of Riot’s own narrative team somehow doesn’t understand their own character, your argument falls apart immediately.

During Lesbian Visibility Week, The League of Legends official Twitter account made this post, using the lesbian flag colors, depicting vi and cait alongside other lesbian characters from Riot. [click for link]

Vi and cait both have two separate pages on the Fandom Wikia website, one for them in LoL the game, and one for them in Arcane the show. And in all four of them, two for cait and two for vi, they’re labeled as lesbians.

Vi: LoL [click for link]

Vi: Arcane [click for link]

Cait: LoL [click for link]

Cait: Arcane [click for link]

Here is Riot Game’s official website, sharing fan art during pride month, in 2023. Some of which show caitlyn and vi with the lesbian flag. I don’t see why they would put that on their OFFICIAL website, if they did not agree with it. [click for link]

This took me no more than 15 minutes to find. I’m almost certain that if i actually sat down and conducted a more extensive search, i would’ve found even more sources. So you claiming that you conducted “research” and somehow found NOTHING AT ALL that explicitly identifies vi and cait as lesbians is not only ridiculous, it is visibly dishonest.

You said “while I agree it’s probable they’re lesbians, this was also a request. I wasn’t going to not write it.” Why not? You’re acting as though you have absolutely no agency nor free will over what you choose to create, as though someone sending you a request somehow absolves you of personal responsibility for choosing to fulfill it. You’re a 27 year old, acting like you’re not old enough to distinguish right from wrong, or to understand that you are fully capable of exercising your own judgment and refusing to participate in something you know is wrong.

And that is especially hypocritical considering you claim you “don’t support” queer and lesbian erasure, while actively facilitating it. You had multiple opportunities to acknowledge the canon, reconsider the request, or simply refuse/ignore it. Instead, you chose to turn a blind eye to the easily accessible official sources that, without a doubt, establish caitlyn and vi as lesbians, and then used the ambiguity of the word “queer” as a convenient justification for writing them as something they canonically are NOT.

You claim you don’t support queer erasure while actively CONTRIBUTING to it. You are actively creating a space where men can come into your inbox and request fantasies involving literal lesbians, and instead of questioning why they feel entitled to do so, what it is that you might’ve done to make them think your space is a safe space for them, you defend their right to make those requests because you apparently don’t want to “shame” them.

Us as queer people, us as LESBIANS, didn’t endure years and years of discrimination, torment, and absolute mental and physical torture, something a lot of us still experience to this day, something i experience everyday, just for those same people to come along, sexualize us, fantasize about us, and strip away the very identity that our representation is supposed to depict, all while hiding behind the excuse that it’s “not real” or “not official.”

They’re dating for fucks sake. There is an entire scene where caitlyn shows clear discomfort toward flirting with a man, then goes OUT OF HER WAY to seek out a woman instead. There is an overwhelming amount of official lesbian art, posts, and promotional material surrounding them. Riot Games have literally reposted fanart of Caitlyn and vi with the lesbian flag. Riot Games have made OFFICIAL art of Caitlyn and vi with the lesbian flag.

At what point does it become enough evidence for you people? When the company that CREATED THEM explicitly associates them with lesbian representation? When members of Riot’s own teams publicly identify vi as a lesbian? When official promotional material depicts them alongside other lesbian characters?

You are beyond appalling to me for enabling this behavior, for participating in it, for writing what you wrote, and for deliberately providing a safe space for men to fantasize about literal lesbians.

“I didn’t want to shame the person who sent that request.”

If they know anything about LoL or Arcane, they almost certainly know that cait and vi are lesbians. They knew what they were requesting. And yes, they SHOULD be called out for it. They don’t get to hide behind the fact that you were the one who ultimately decided to fulfill their request. Both of you deserve criticism for your respective choices.

I’ve said this already, but don’t even attempt to lie your way out of this by claiming you didn’t know. You said yourself that you conducted “research” and found nothing establishing cait or vi as lesbians.

IT TOOK ME NO MORE THAN 15 MINUTES TO FIND WHAT YOU ALLEGEDLY COULDN’T.

That is NOT a failure of available information. That’s a failure of your own willingness to look.

I don’t care if this makes those men out there who want to sexualize lesbians so badly angry. Good. Let them be angry. I’ll continue to speak up for what’s right and for my people, because yes, it IS that serious. You will NOT turn our safe spaces into something else. You will NOT take the very little representation that we have in comparison to heterosexual people and deliberately reinterpret it into something more convenient for you.

Caitlyn and vi are lesbians. That’s not an invitation for debate. That’s not an “inconvenience”you can simply disregard by saying “they’re only queer.” In order to justify and excuse what you want to write. Caitlyn and Vi are lesbians, THAT is what they are.

Deal with it.

I know there are probably some queer women out there who might’ve seen that fic about cait and vi x reader, and i know it might’ve made them feel a particularly unpleasant way, but they might’ve been hesitant to say anything. I know because some of my mutuals reached out to me, and it genuinely hurt to see them feeling too scared to speak up about something like this happening in their OWN space. 

No matter how hard we try to build and preserve these safe spaces for ourselves, there will always be people who feel entitled to enter them and undermine the very sense of safety we’ve created.

I don’t blame them. I don’t blame any queer women who might’ve wanted to say something but felt too scared, uncomfortable, or worried about what might happen if they did. After all, our people have been subjected to discrimination and hostility for generations, and it’s completely understandable that some of us might hesitate to put ourselves in a position where we could be targeted for speaking out.

But i’m making this post because i want you to know that you’re NOT alone. I’m here, and i can assure you that there are so many other people who probably saw that post and felt the exact same way you did. 

You are not being dramatic, you are not overreacting, and you are not wrong for feeling uncomfortable seeing something like that in a space that is supposed to be safe for people like us.

So to all the queer women reading this, if you need anything, whether you want to talk, vent, or simply have someone who understands, my dms are always open for you.

(Forgive me for using the “Jinx X Reader” despite this post not being about jinx. The person who made the X Male Reader fic used it in that pist, and i wanted to reach anyone who might’ve seen it, by using similar tags. I deeply apologize for any inconvenience.)

This is the fic they made, alongside the anon they responded to:

Being a member of the council in Republic City was hard work, no less being a representative. It was tiring, which was why kataras favorite part of the day was coming home to you, the love of her life.

Katara walks through the door of her home after a long day, a sigh escaping her lips before the smell of food hits her nose. Her gaze falls down the hallway, a smile spreading on her lips as she begins walking down the hallway. She follows the smell into the kitchen where she finds you standing over the stove making her favorite food. She smiles, walking up behind you and wrapping her arms around your waist. She rests her head on your shoulder, peaking over and watching you cook.

"Hey, sweetheart." You chuckle, turning your head and pressing a light kiss to the side of her head. "How was your day?" You continue, turning back to the stove and stiring the pot. You hear light sigh escape her lips, her face pressing into your neck as she pecks a small kiss there.

"Long." She starts, her voice muffled against your skin. "So many people talking to me at once— I barely got any information." She huffs, a small laugh escaping her lips. You hum in response, turning the stove off and nudging Katara away from the stove before turning to face her. You wrap your arms around her neck, fingers tangling in her hair.

"Well its a good thing you have tomorrow off." You hum, earning a confused hum from Katara. She lifts her head to look at you.

"What? No I don't." She replies, raising an eyebrow at the smile that formed on your lips. "What did you do?" She questions playfully, thumbs tracing circles over your waist through your shirt.

"I cleared your schedule, you need a day to yourself, sweetie. Just you and me." You start, fingers threading through her hair as you spoke. "No distractions, no meetings, no Sokka barging in because he needs help with something. Just me taking care of you for a day." You hum, placing a kiss on the corner of her mouth. She hums a small agreement, frowning at the thought of missing the meeting tomorrow but immediately melting into your arms as you begin massaging her shoulders.

"Mm..yeah, that sounds amazing.." She mutters, burying her face into your neck and letting out a soft sigh.

--

After the two of you eat dinner, you run a hot bath for Katara. You left the bathroom to grab a fresh towel and to give her some privacy as she stripped down to nothing and sank into the hot water. You came in minutes later, discarding your own clothes and stepping into the bath with her.

-

A soft hum escapes your lips as you run your fingers through her dampened hair, massaging her scalp as she rests against the edge of the tub. Her head resting against your chest as you both soaked in the comforting silence. Her eyes close as she relaxes further into you, the water rippling around the both of you as she shifts slightly.

"This is nice.." She hums out quietly, her hand finding yours and lacing your fingers together.

You smile, running your free hand through her hair then letting it rest on her shoulder, your thumb gently rubbing circles into her.

"Thank you, sweetheart." She whispers,flipping herself over to face you, straddling your hips. Her hand finds your cheek, her thumb dragging along your skin. "I really needed this. Your amazing.." She continues, leaning forward and kissing you. Your hands find her waist as you kiss her back, lips locked in a slow, yet passionate kiss. When she pulls away, she rests her forehead against yours, her eyes soft and tired.

"I love you, sweetie." she hums, pressing another short kiss to your lips.

"I love you too, Sweetheart." You mutter back, resting your head on her shoulder.

--

Long after the bath, The two of toy sit together in bed, Katara silently reading a scroll while you braided her hair. The sun had set not that long ago and the moonlight poured in from the window into the dimmed room. You both just sat in comfortable silence for a while. The only sound in the house being your heartbeats and intertwined breathing. The silent hum of the night filled the room, neither of you spoke. You didn't need to.

Later, you both fall asleep around midnight, tangled up with eachother underneath the sheets soaking in each others warmth.

-

The morning comes slow, the sun pouring in through the closed curtains. Katara, hardly awake, reaches out beside her to find the bed empty. She pushes herself up, the blanket pooping around her waist. She opens her eyes and looks around, scanning the room for you. When she finds the room empty and the door sightly ajar, she puts two and two together and gets out of bed. She wraps herself in a robe and heads towards the kitchen, where to no surprise, you were, standing over the stove half asleep and making breakfast. Katara can't help but laugh at the scene in front of her.

"Good morning, darling." She says through a giggle, walking behind you and wrapping her arms around her waist. You hum a tired reply, hand mindlessly moving the eggs around in the pan.

"G'morning, sweetheart.." You mutter, voice still groggy with sleep.

You weren't a morning person and she knew that. She watches you closely as you continue making breakfast, turning off the stove after you finished cooking. You both ate breakfast together, planning all that you would do together the whole day.

You both decide on going to a small festival, spending the whole day playing games and enjoying each others company. Katara got the rest she needed and you got the spend the whole day with her, no distractions, no meetings.

Just you, and her.

A letter from Iroh lies abandoned on your nightstand. It arrived today. It was delivered by a falcon adorned with royal insignia. You have no idea how Iroh's falcons managed to track you down, and the soldiers Zuko sent you after have only run into you maybe three times in six years. You find it quite amusing.

Although perhaps you've become too practised at avoiding them.

Or maybe Zuko had finally given in. Part of you would have been relieved, but there was still this stubborn other one that wouldn't let you just move on from him as you should. And that little, treacherous piece of you only grew more hopeful with each letter Zuko's uncle wrote.

You wonder if Zuko wrote to you too. If he spent steady, sleepless midnights lying in his royal four-poster bed, thinking of you, cursing you on scraps of paper that will never reach you. You swallow the lump in your throat at the thought and ignore the sting in your eyes as you open Iroh's letter.

Dear Y/N, Six years without a word is a bit too dramatic, even for an old man like me, let alone Zuko. But I must admit he's handling it better than I ever could. I hope you're safe. You could at least write this down since we both know you're reading these letters. (My wise birds would sooner peck at anyone else who tried to take them away. And considering how perfectly they're returned to me, I'm convinced they're in your hands.) So, since my letters aren't working on you, I have to bring out the big guns. Happy reading, Iroh

You frown, sitting cross-legged on the bed and leaning against the headboard, rummaging through the envelope. Three sheets of paper fall out. You open the one that's more chipped and crumbled than the others.

You freeze, recognising Zuko's handwriting. You drop the paper onto the bed as if it were made of living fire and practically jump out of it, your bare feet hitting the squeaky wooden motel floor.

The old bastard sent you some of Zuko's letters that might have been for you.

They really shouldn't have had THAT much of an effect on you. You blame your reaction mainly on the fact that for six years you'd been so fervently avoiding any contact with him that now even something like the stupid, probably old letters Iroh easily took from whatever hideout Zuko kept them in made your heart race, your breath hitch, and you could hear the rush of your own blood.

Only when you feel the cold on your feet do you realise that your panic has gotten the better of you and has begun to freeze the floor beneath you.

"Fuck," you curse, trying to clear your mind and focus on melting the ice from the frosted floor.

The only thing missing from your misfortunes for today would be someone suddenly entering your room and discovering that you're not a non-bender examining the condition of the local lakes.

You don't even want to guess how quickly you'd find yourself in the nearest military base, waiting for transport to the palace. And straight to him. Just because you saw the letters he wrote.

"Is everything alright there, honey?" You're pulled out of your dark thoughts by a knock and voices coming from behind the door. "I heard some cracking."

After making sure there is no more ice in the room, you put on your robe and open the door slightly.

"It's okay, Mrs Birohna. I... I just thought I saw a spider and got scared. " You laugh awkwardly, hoping the old woman will buy your lie and leave you alone. So you can read the letters. Or burn them. You don't know yet which will be better for your sanity.

"I don't rent rooms with spiders…"

"Of course. I just imagined it. A strange refraction of light. Sorry for the noise."

The woman eyes you suspiciously but eventually nods, too tired to snoop further.

"If you can't sleep, make yourself some tea instead of waking up other people," she mutters angryly before you close the door behind her. A very polite woman. Now you know why the prices here were so low compared to other motels. And why you were the only one renting a room here.

You promise yourself this is the last time you'll stop here and return to bed with a small candle, which you place on the nightstand. You stare at the three new letters, trying to gather your courage. Which is idiotic, to say the least.

Because what could happen if you read them? Nothing. Just words on paper. Probably telling you how Zuko despises you and wishes he'd never met you. After all, you could stand it… right? At least that was what you deserved.

"Fuck it," you mutter, shaking your head and sitting on the bed. You were on Team Avatar when it was you against the world. Three stupid letters from your ex can't affect you like that.

With trembling hands, you reach for the first letter. Probably the oldest. The ink is already a little faded, and the paper is starting to crumble slightly at the corners, either from age or from constant rubbing—a nervous tic you'd seen Zuko exhibit several times before you left.

You hold your breath slightly when you see the date in the top corner.

A week after you left.

Y/N, Where the hell are you? I wrote to Aang, he said he hadn't received a letter from you in months. Not to mention that meeting, which clearly isn't happening. (Thanks for the extra ride, because of course I followed you like a fool the morning you left, only to be surprised that no one showed up.) Did you lie to me? Really? Is this how it's supposed to be now? One argument and you run away? This is so irresponsible and stupid, I never would have expected it from you. But maybe it's just one of your Water Tribe customs. Soak into the earth and evaporate. I won't argue with you over letters. I don't want to argue with you at all, but how the hell could you just… disappear? You're scaring me us all. Come home, Zuko

You snort, mad, as if he had no right to be so furious with your behaviour. No one has ever been able to piss you off like he does. And in a letter from six years ago. A week after you ran away... well, maybe he had a point after all.

You tossed the letters aside, your mood completely ruined. You'd expected at least one angry letter from Zuko-he wasn't exactly a calm man, after all-but it still stung.

So you decide to be absolutely childish and ignore the remaining two letters. There was no point in reading them. They were outdated; whatever Zuko had written in them, he certainly didn't think so anymore. He might not have been courting anyone yet, but he was definitely over you by now. It made sense not to dwell on the past.

However, your hand has a brain of its own and reaches for another one.

You shake your head, close your eyes, and rest your forehead against your treacherous hand, trying to talk yourself out of this idea.

And you really do put those letters aside. You're ready to throw the rest into the blazing fire in the morning. Because what would they change? Nothing. Absolutely. Six years have passed. Nothing could ever be between you again.

So you throw everything on the nightstand and stubbornly lie in bed with your back to them. And so you lie. The first hour passes. The second. Before you know it, it's 3 a.m., and you still can't sleep.

Finally, you roll over. Your gaze involuntarily drifts to the stack of papers on the nightstand beside you. And in the moonlight, Zuko's signature is visible, as if to spite you. Your heart beats slightly faster, and you're suddenly acutely aware of the water droplets beginning to form on your palms.

"Damn Iroh." You mutter, sitting down and picking up another piece of paper.

This one is different. Maybe a little... fresher than the first, but it's more wrinkled. Zuko's handwriting is uneven here, as if he wrote in a hurry. Your fingertips involuntarily trace the swirls of ink that form his name. You shake your head. Time to rip off this band-aid and read how he became hateful to you.

Y/N, This has really gone too far. You don't answer my letters, some of them just bounce back. Do you know how bloody scared I am for you? Six months of silence is probably punishment enough for whatever I've done. And help me, souls of all the Fire Lords, I don't even know what for you can be so angry with me. Where the fuck does it end? Do I really have to search the world for you like I did for Aang? If I go on an expedition looking for you, will you finally come home? Will you at least send me a fucking piece of paper telling me you're okay? Because I can do it. You know it perfectly well. You know me perfectly well. Just as I know you. So, don't make me chase you around the world, because sooner or later I'll find you and drag you back home. With or without your consent. And maybe I'm turning into my damn father, but what else am I supposed to do when the love of my life suddenly left without a word? No one has heard from you, no one. Not Katara, not Sokka, not Aang, not Toph, although she's a great liar and even if she knew anything, she wouldn't tell me. Let's end this cat-and-mouse game. For our mutual peace of mind. Mostly mine. Write and tell me where to come pick you up, Zuko

You look at the date again. Ironically, you were the closest you'd ever dared to venture to his palace. As if you'd somehow sensed it. You sigh, rereading his words. You'd break. You know you would. If that letter had fallen into your hands, you'd have returned to him. To that palace. You don't even know if it was the right thing to do. You're no longer sure of anything. And it's all thanks to Iroh.

You sigh as you begin another letter, convinced that nothing he writes could destroy you more than your own thoughts about yourself. And oh, how wrong you are.

Y/N, Do you know it's been four years already? It's pathetic that I know the more exact date with hours, minutes and probably seconds, right? Four years without seeing your smile, your eyes. Four years without hearing your voice. Four years living with only the memories of your scent, the taste of your lips, and the feel of your skin under my fingertips. Four years of dreams, haunted by visions of our future that we could have had, the past, and terrible visions that I am afraid to say out loud for fear of tempting fate by making them come true. Four years and I still can't find you or forget you. Sometimes I think I see you. In the palace, in the market, at those rare Gaang gatherings. (You worry us all, by the way.) But then those people who look so much like you turn, showing me their empty faces that couldn't even be compared to yours, and my heart returns to that strange state. Not quite alive, not quite dead. As if it still hoped you'd come back and we'd fix everything. I miss you so much it's pathetic. Every night, full of pride and honour, I sit at my desk and start writing you the desperate letters of a longing, abandoned lover. But I can't stop. Even if I wanted to. Because none of this matters when you're not here. It's disgusting, the power you have over me, and you don't even know it, you don't want to know it, because you run from me as if I could ever hurt you, and yet you're the one who ripped my heart out and took it with you, never even looking back. And the worst thing is that I don't even know why. You have no idea how many sleepless nights I've spent, and still do, wondering what I did to make you leave without a word. First, I thought someone had kidnapped you, that something had happened to you. I sent my soldiers out like a madmaniac searching for you. And do you know how my heart shattered when one of them told me they'd found you, but you were running from them? As if my father had sent his men after you? Then, I thought that maybe you'd found someone else, and Y/N, honey, the thought alone makes me want to set this whole palace on fire. I wanted to burn everything that reminded me of you, but still, after all these years, your room stands untouched, and I'm stuck with these damn little things of yours, celebrating them like some kind of relic, because what else do I have left of you? You don't even know (or maybe you know this feeling better than me) how hard it is when suddenly all you have left of your loved one who was with you every day are just some miserable little things that have already lost the scent of them? It's like you're dead. But you're not. And that's the only thing that comforts me and keeps me truly sane, with any shred of sanity that allows me to function normally and move on with my duties. And maybe that was the reason you left? My anger and control issues, but Iroh reminded me that I've changed, that I'm not like that anymore. And perhaps the greatest proof of his words is that even if I didn't want to, I still love you as much as the day you left. Maybe even more. And you don't know how much I wanted to hate you, to move on, but how could I hate someone who first gave me a chance? Who saw in me something more than an angry prince chasing a false sense of honour and pride. But I don't have any of them anymore. No honour, no pride. Nothing. The only thing left for me on this great golden throne, surrounded by people who treat me with respect and sometimes those who are our friends, is helplessness. Because that's exactly what I am. Helpless. Without you. My greatest love and loss of my life. So please come back. I'm begging you. I'll come to you on my knees and crawl like a worm if you want. Just come back and argue with me, yell at me, or stay silent from a distance where I can at least look at you. Just come home. So I can love you. Make me stop screaming your name on these rainy nights like some lost, stupid blind man, hoping to find his way back home. Yours. Even if you never read this, Zuko

You don't even pretend not to care anymore. Tears flow freely from your eyes, and you let out a single, pathetic, shuddering breath. Because you were truly convinced he couldn't love you anymore. Maybe he didn't? After all, it was a letter from two years ago... or at least that's how you try to soothe your tormenting conscience and heart.

Because maybe if he was as miserable without you as you were without him, on those nights when he was all you could think about... then maybe you made the wrong decision after all? Maybe six years of looking over your shoulder, travelling from country to country, running from your past and loved ones, were... senseless?

You flinch when you suddenly hear the cry of a falcon.

You bite your lip until it bleeds. You hiss, pressing your hand to your lips. You manipulate the red liquid, wrapping it around your fingertips and stopping the slight bleeding.

Falcon squeals once again.

"Stupid bird." You whisper, listening and wondering if the old housekeeper will suddenly burst into your room.

The falcon flies up to you and lands on your lap, pecking you punishingly on the thigh - not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a nice bruise.

"Ouch! Okay, okay. You don't have to torment me like that," you tell him, and you arch out of bed, looking into your duffel bag for some dried meat to give him and something to write with.

You weren't going to change your mind. You couldn't come back.

You're absolutely convinced of it. But Iroh seeps into your head through Zuko's letters, enough that with a trembling hand you reach for a scrap of parchment and a quill. You were about to do what Iroh asked of you. A small olive branch for all these years.

I'm safe and sound. I also hope your next tea is cold, overly sweet, and preferably tastes like that particularly disgusting dried herb from Ba Sing Se. Sincerely, You know who

What you didn't know was that this very short letter would be the turning point in your escape from the past.

"You could at least knock," Zuko mutters, looking over the parchment—a plan of new laws he wanted to introduce, which his advisors might not necessarily like.

“To my own nephew’s chambers?” Iroh teases him, entering with a tray of tea. "You didn't sleep, as usual?"

Zuko sighs, rubbing his eyes with his hand, and glances at the time candle on his desk. It was almost 5 a.m.

"A good ruler doesn't sleep," he replies, reaching for the teapot to pour them tea. His gaze lingers on the envelope on the tray. The envelope with his uncle's name written in your handwriting. "Shit," he mutters, pouring the tea and scalding himself with it.

He sets the teapot down on the table with a thud. Iroh gives him a disapproving look, wiping up the mess Zuko has made and watching him closely as he picks up the unsealed envelope.

"What is it?" He swallows hard, trying to control his emotions. The candle flame flickers gently from side to side, sensing his turbulent emotions and yielding to the bending he unconsciously does.

"Something I thought you'd want to read."Iroh shrugs and takes his mug, sipping his jasmine tea. "My falcon brought this an hour ago. The ink is fresh. It gives us... a narrower field of potential searches."

"I won't pursue her against her will," he mutters, tossing the envelope onto the table. He crosses his arms, making sure his willpower doesn't break, and he reaches for the letter like a pathetic desperado. "It's been six years."

"It's true. Just like you can't sleep at night, refuse to even talk to potential suitors, and spill your tea when you see an envelope with her handwriting."

Zuko blushes slightly with embarrassment. He should finally learn that lying to Iroh isn't worth it. Or he should do much better if he has already tried.

"I'm… simply tired of being Fire Lord. Stress, lack of sleep, and all that." He lists, avoiding looking at both his uncle's eyes and the letter from you which was still lying on the table.

He grabs the cup to avoid nervously fidgeting with his fingers or accidentally setting anything on fire. Six years without a word, and suddenly, a letter from you to his uncle lay before him.

"Mhm... well, then it's a good thing you're going on vacation with Aang and the others to Ember Island soon, right?" Iroh replies, not at all convinced by the overly casual attitude Zuko was trying to maintain.

Zuko just nods. His bun tilts slightly, and the metal flame ornament almost falls into his tea cup. Iroh tries very hard not to laugh at his nephew's nervousness.

"Get some sleep," Iroh says, standing up. "I'll make sure they write to Aang with a reminder. The boy may be the Avatar and protector of the world, but he can also be... forgetful."

"And the letter?" Zuko asks, turning towards the door - moving for the first time since he saw your handwriting.

"I've already read it." Iroh tosses casually over his shoulder, not even pausing, and leaves his chambers.

Zuko is left alone. With your letter on the table.

He loosens the collar of his robes, suddenly feeling stifled in his chambers. He glances at the map of his country, analysing every village within an hour of the falcon's flight...

He shakes his head. He had far more important things to do. Treaties and agreements to review, a meeting with the generals about future armaments... and yet he reaches for the abandoned letter.

And there are three things that Zuko knows for sure. The first one is that you're safe. The second: Iroh's next tea was exactly opposite from what you wished for his uncle to be. And the third one – most terrifying for him to realise – was that you still had so much power over him. And the proof for that was not only his earlier, awkward teenage behaviour but also his heartbeat accelerating with every word he read and the fact that he was able to read that letter in his head with your exact tone of voice.

Still, after six years, he was haunted by you. Zuko sighs, waving his hand to extinguish any fire in his room and plunging into a momentary darkness that breaks with the rising sun.

Thank you so much for reading this!!! If you want to, let me know what you think in comments! 🥰🖤🖤

Part 2 is comming soon, maybe even a little more if you want?

Vi shakes her head, pink hair falling across her forehead. "Nah. My brain won't shut up tonight."

"Wanna talk about it?"

She's quiet for a long moment. I've learned that with Vi, silence doesn't mean she's shutting me out. It means she's building the words, stacking them like bricks until they form something she can hand to me without it crumbling.

"Just thinking about old stuff," she finally says. "Before."

I know what that means. Before me. Before she got out and all the chaos that followed. There's a whole chunk of Vi's life that she's only given me in fragments—small pieces she's deemed safe enough to share. I've never pushed. I just waited patiently.

"Anything specific?" I shift onto my side to face her fully, matching her position. The sheets rustle between us.

She laughs, but it's hollow. "Specific. Yeah. I guess you could say that." Her hand stops its tracing and rests flat on my shoulder. "Stillwater."

The word lands like a stone. I've heard the name, of course. Everyone in Zaun knows Stillwater Hold. The place where they send the ones they want to break. The place where they send the ones they want to forget.

"You don't have to—" I start.

"No, I want to." She cuts me off, not harshly, just firmly. "I want you to know. All of it."

I nod and settle deeper into my pillow, giving her my full attention. The room feels smaller now, more intimate, like we're the only two people in all of Zaun.

"I was fifteen when they threw me in there," Vi begins, her eyes fixed somewhere past me, into the past. "Fifteen, and I already had a record a mile long. But Stillwater... that was different. That was meant to be the end of me."

My chest tightens. Fifteen. When I was fifteen, I was stealing food to survive and getting into fights I couldn't win. But I never went to Stillwater. I was lucky.

"First thing they did was take everything," Vi continues, her voice dropping into a monotone. "My clothes, my dignity, my name. I wasn't Vi anymore. I was just a number."

Her jaw tightens, and I watch the muscle flex under her skin. She's not crying. Vi doesn't cry easily. But I can see the storm behind her eyes, the one she's been holding back for years.

"The guards... they had this thing they'd do. Called it 'orientation.'" She makes air quotes with her free hand. "They'd bring in the new ones, line us up, and pick one. Just one. To make an example of."

I feel my stomach drop. "Vi..."

"I was the pick." She says it flatly, like she's reading a report. "First day. They dragged me into a room, three of them, and they beat me until I couldn't stand. Broke two of my ribs. My left hand—" she holds it up, and I've seen the scars, the crooked knuckles that never healed right. "Told me that was how it was gonna be. That I was nothing. That I'd always be nothing."

My eyes are burning. I blink rapidly, trying to keep it together. This isn't about me. This is about her, about holding the space.

"I learned real fast," Vi goes on, "that crying made it worse. Begging made it worse. Fighting back made it worse—but at least that way, I got to feel like I was doing something." A ghost of a smile crosses her face. "I fought back a lot."

"Of course you did," I whisper. Because that's who Vi is. Even when she's down, even when she's broken, she's still swinging.

"First year was the worst," she says. "I was small. Still growing. Not that it mattered, because the food was garbage, and I was always hungry. Always cold. The cells were damp, and the blankets were thin, and the sound of the doors slamming—" She stops, takes a breath before continuing:

"The guards, they had their favorites," Vi continues. "One in particular. Greasy bastard with a mustache and a ring on every finger. He'd find any reason. Any excuse. Looked at me wrong. Breathed too loud. Walked too fast. And he'd drag me to the isolation wing and just... let loose."

Her hand clenches on my shoulder, and I feel the tension radiating through her entire body. I want to reach out, to hold her, but I know better. Right now, she needs to get this out. She's been carrying it alone for so long.

"He broke my nose twice," she says. "I can still feel it sometimes. The crunch. The blood. The way it felt to swallow my own teeth. But I never gave him the satisfaction of screaming. Not once. I'd just lie there and stare at the ceiling and count the cracks until he got bored."

A tear slips down my cheek. I can't help it. The image of Vi—my Vi, my strong, resilient, beautiful Vi—as a terrified teenager, alone and beaten in that hellhole...

"Hey." Her voice softens, and her hand moves from my shoulder to my face, thumb brushing the tear away. "Hey, I'm okay. I'm right here."

"I know," I manage, but my voice cracks. "I know, I just—"

"I didn't tell you this to make you cry." She's almost smiling now. "I told you because I want you to understand. All of it. The good and the ugly."

I take a shaky breath. "Tell me more. Please. I want to hear it all."

She studies me for a moment, searching for something. Whatever she finds, she seems satisfied with.

"There was this one time," she says slowly, "maybe six months in. I'd gotten into it with another inmate. Not my fault—he was trying to take my food. I was protecting what was mine. But the guards didn't see it that way."

Her eyes go distant again.

"They put me in the box. That's what we called it. Solitary. A cell so small you couldn't even lie down all the way. No light. No sound. No nothing. Just you and your own head." She shudders. "I was in there for three weeks."

"Three weeks?" The words come out strangled.

"Three weeks," she confirms. "I started talking to myself. Making up stories. Pretending I was somewhere else. I'd imagine Powder—" she stops, and I see a flicker of that familiar pain, the one that's always there when she mentions her sister, "—I'd imagine she was there with me. Telling me jokes. Singing those awful little songs she used to make up. It was the only thing that kept me from losing it completely."

I reach for her hand, and she lets me. Our fingers interlace, and I feel the calluses, the scars, the history written in her skin.

"Then one day, the mustache guy showed up," Vi continues. "He dragged me out of the box, threw me on the floor, and told me I was being moved. To the general population again. But not before he got his 'goodbye' in."

She laughs, but there's no humor in it.

"He beat me so bad I couldn't walk for a week. Another inmate had to help me to the bathroom. Some old guy. He was in for stealing from Piltover merchants. Could barely see out of one eye, but he had the gentlest hands. Changed my bandages. Made sure I ate." She squeezes my fingers. "There were good people in there too. People who kept each other alive."

"Did you ever..." I pause, not sure how to phrase it. "Did you ever think you wouldn't make it out?"

Vi's quiet for a long moment. The neon from outside shifts, painting her face in deep purple now.

"Yeah," she says softly. "A few times. That first year, mostly. And then after... after everything with Powder. After I'd been in there for a while and started to think maybe she'd forgotten me. Maybe everyone had." Her voice drops to barely above a whisper. "I thought about just... giving up. Letting them win. Would've been easier."

"But you didn't."

"No," she agrees. "And I don't know why. I don't have some grand reason. I just... couldn't." She looks at me then, really looks, and I see the intensity there. "I guess I had to believe there was something worth surviving for. Even if I didn't know what it was yet."

The tears are falling freely now, and I don't bother to wipe them away. I don't care. She can see me cry. She's seen me at my worst, and she stayed.

"Vi..." I can barely get the word out.

"Hey..." She shifts closer, and suddenly her forehead is against mine, her breath warm on my lips. "I'm not telling you this to make you sad. I'm telling you because I trust you. Because you're the first person in years who's made me feel like maybe all that suffering was worth it."

"Me?" I whisper.

"Yeah." She pulls back just enough to look at me, and there's a vulnerability in her eyes I've never seen before. "You. Who else would sit here at three in the morning and listen to me talk about all this shit? Who else would look at me like I'm something worth keeping around, even after hearing the worst parts?"

I laugh, but it comes out watery. "Vi, you're the strongest person I've ever met. All that stuff you went through—it made you who you are. And who you are is someone I fell in love with."

She blinks, and I think I see the glimmer of moisture in her eyes too. But she's Vi, so she deflects with a smirk. "Fell in love with me, huh?"

"Shut up," I say, but I'm laughing now. "I'm trying to be sincere."

"Sorry, sorry." She grins, and it's genuine, lighting up her whole face. "Please, continue pouring your heart out to this big butch who definitely didn't just spend an hour trauma-dumping on you."

"You're such an ass."

I shove her shoulder, but she catches my hand and pulls me into her. We land in a tangle of limbs and sheets, and I end up with my head on her chest, listening to the steady thump of her heart. It's the most reassuring sound in the world—proof that she survived. Proof that she's here. Proof that I get to keep her.

"Thank you," I whisper into the fabric of her tank top. "For telling me."

"Thank you for listening." Her arms wrap around me, solid and warm. "I know it's heavy. But I wanted you to know. I don't want secrets between us."

We lie there in silence for a while. I can feel every breath she takes, the rise and fall of her chest beneath my cheek. Her fingers find their way into my hair, combing through it in a rhythm that's almost hypnotic.

"I could have been you," I say quietly. "If things had gone different. I was close. A few times."

"I know," she says. "That's part of why I love you. You get it. You get the whole... fighting-to-survive thing. The hunger. The fear. The anger. You don't look at me like I'm broken. You look at me like I'm just... me."

"Because you are," I say fiercely. "You're not broken, Vi. You're not what they tried to make you. You survived, and you built something new out of the pieces. That's not broken. That's remarkable."

She's quiet, and then I feel her breath hitch, just slightly. A tiny crack in the armor.

"Baby," she says, and her voice is rough.

"I'm serious," I say, propping myself up to look at her. Her eyes are bright, and I know she's holding back tears now. "I don't love you in spite of all that shit. I love you because of it. Because you went through hell and you came out the other side still capable of kindness. Still capable of love. Still capable of being soft with me when no one else gets to see that side of you."

A tear slips down her cheek, and she quickly wipes it away. "Fuck," she mutters. "This isn't—I wasn't trying to make you cry, and now I'm crying, and this is so stupid—"

"Vi." I cup her face in my hands, holding her gaze. "It's not stupid. It's real. You're real. And I'm not going anywhere."

She lets out a shaky breath, and then she's pulling me down into a kiss that tastes like salt and feels like a promise. Her lips are warm, insistent, and I pour everything I have into it—all my love, all my admiration, all my fierce, protective tenderness.

When we break apart, we're both breathing a little heavily.

"Okay," she says, her voice steadier now. "Okay. That was... good. That was really good."

"Yeah," I agree. "It was."

She grins, and it's like watching the sun come out. "So, uh, I guess I'm done with the whole 'traumatic backstory' part of the evening. You got anything to share? Try to top Stillwater, I dare you."

I laugh. "I don't think I can top Stillwater. But I could tell you about the time I stole a hextech battery and almost blew up a Piltover warehouse."

"Ooh, I'm listening."

I settle back against her chest, and she adjusts her arms around me. The neon outside has shifted again, now a soft pink that matches her hair.

"I was seventeen," I begin. "Dumb, hungry, and desperate. There was this job..."

She laughs, and the sound vibrates through her chest into my cheek. I feel her relax beneath me, the last of the tension draining away.

And I know that this is what surviving is for. This moment. This warmth. This love. The fact that I get to hold her, and she gets to hold me, and we're both still here, still fighting, still choosing each other every single day.

Outside, Zaun hums on. Inside, we breathe together. And that's enough. That's more than enough.

after weeks of korra’s tiresome avatar work, a trip to the beach was very much in order.

you flip through pages of your novel, soaking in the sunlight as you lay on your raised sunbed, when a dripping figure suddenly blocks the rays by looming over you.

you’re already smiling before you even look up, recognizing your girlfriend by her heavy panting after she ran all the way to you for her hourly sunscreen reappliance. spirits, she was such a sight. all exposed and toned under the bright sun, brown skin glistening from her swimming, her muscles bared and displayed much to your liking.

summer was always her best season.

“do i reaaally need this weird cream thing applied on me every hour? it’s so annoying.” she pouts, complaining again for the fourth time since you’ve arrived. you tuck your legs in to make space for her to sit in front of you, rolling your eyes as you fish the bottle out of your bag, “yes, korra. you asked me that an hour ago. you need sun protection, unless the idea of skin cancer appeals to you.”

“boring,” she sighs, sitting down and resting her face on her palm while you pour some of the cream onto your hands. “make it fast, babe. i still have to go drown mako, then build a better castle than all of them.“

you hum fondly, massaging the sunscreen onto the broad expanse of her back, “sounds very important, sweetie. i’ll make sure to be fast.”

she chuckles and lets you run your hands over her muscles, her hand reaching up to move her short hair away from her nape to ease your access, and the motion has her arms flexing in a way that urges you to moisten your lips.

you don’t waste the opportunity to press a kiss behind her ear, to which she purrs, pleased, backing up into you.

when you’re done with her back, you pat her shoulder so she can turn around and you can finish the rest.

she does just so, crowded between your knees as you apply a thick layer on her face.

“thought you liked me all tan and sexy.” korra muses, a smile on her face as she admires her focused girlfriend rubbing circles on her forehead.

you chuckle, cocking an eyebrow, “you’re already tan and sexy. sunscreen won’t change that.”

“yeah?” the avatar leans in closer, her lips hovering over yours in a crooked grin, letting her voice drop to a sultrier whisper. “how sexy?”

you return her smile, your hands sliding down her face to her buff shoulders while your legs wrap lazily around her waist. “so sexy all i can think about is ripping your bikini top off with my teeth right now.”

“bad girl,” she huffs a laugh and nips at your bottom lip, capturing your mouth into a sloppy kiss where you can taste the ocean’s salt on her warm tongue.

your arms wrap around her neck, returning the eager kiss while your hands splay over sun-kissed skin. you pull away with a wet pop! , smiling at how flushed she got just from making out with you. you pat her cheeks for good measure, “alright, you’re all ready for the sun now, baby. go knock yourself out with your beach plans.”

“change of plans,” she rasps before roughly smashing her lips against yours again, swallowing your startled yelp when she climbs on top of you on the sunbed.

you’re already moaning at the way her fingers map you out, thumbs sliding over your peaked nipples and palms molding to the curve of your waist, nimble fingers trailing down to fiddle with the frills of your red bikini bottoms.

“k—korra,” you stammer, flushing scarlet when she slots her knee between your thighs, the pressure devastating. “are you insane? we can’t do that here, so many people are— ah!”

her knee presses harder against your heat, cutting off your sentence. she reaches out to pull some flimsy drapes over for a bit more privacy, her heated gaze pinning you down while wisps of hot steam escape from her parted lips, “then try to be quiet.”

your head meets the cushions of the raised bedding, placed high enough so you can watch the sea full of people just right over her shoulder. however, she does not give you time to worry about being seen, her index hooking under the strap of your bikini top, right between your breasts.

“this is cute,” her smirk’s lopsided, letting your top slap back against your tits and hungrily watching them bounce at the impact. “zero coverage, too.”

her lips are back on yours in a matter of seconds, swallowing down your moans and passionately tonguing the heat of your mouth, some cold water droplets dripping down her damp hair to land on your warm skin and sending shivers down your spine.

she descends down to the column of your throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses that intensify your grinding against her knee, her firm hands making their way up your hips to slide under your back and find the knot of your bikini top. it quickly comes undone with an effortless swipe of her fingers and you yelp, the tiny fabric easily giving way for your bare chest.

“korra!” you whine, crossing your arms over yourself as your eyes scan your surroundings for witnesses in a panic. at that, she scoffs, brows furrowed, and pries your arms off. “no, let me see.”

you’re about to yell at her again when instead all that leaves your mouth is a shamefully high-pitched whine, the avatar’s lips latching onto one of your pretty nipples, greedily licking and sucking while her hand finds your other breast, kneading the flesh and rolling the bud between calloused fingertips.

you bring your fist to your mouth, biting on it to muffle the filthy moans her thorough affection is pulling out of you. “heavens, korra—” you helplessly mewl, hips bucking up into her unmoving knee, looking down at her lavishing your tits with kisses and hickeys.

blue eyes dart up to find yours and your breath hitches, the eye contact sending a jolt of arousal right down to your wetting core, and with the way she smiles smugly around your tit, you can tell she felt it too.

swollen lips detach from your chest, though swiftly replaced by thumbs to keep your sweet noises ongoing, and she peers down at you with pure satisfaction, “someone’s horny.”

you want to cry when she lifts her knee off your soaked cunt, her gaze roving down your curves to finally land on the wet patch your folds pathetically clinged to. her grin widens, and her hands slide down to spread your thighs further, “well well, would you look at that.. you’re wetter than me, and i just got back from a swim.”

you glare at her taunt, but your expression contorts into reluctant pleasure when she wholly cups your pussy, relishing your adorable whimpering and squirming under her grasp.

her free hand finds the side strings of your bottoms, untying them with a measly swirl of air she summoned, and she whistles in delight at the beautiful sight now presented to her. “so pretty. you’re so pretty.”

you shudder at the whispered praise, another wave of arousal rolling over you and she watches the extra slick your eager cunt produces in anticipation. she huffs an incredulous laugh, lifting her gaze to meet yours and carefully watching your reaction while two of her fingers start toying with your folds, “spirits, you’re so easy.”

your cheeks burn with embarrassment at her condescending tone, but you can’t help how your body responds to her touch, eyes rolling back at the feel of her digits prodding at your drooling slit. the way they slide in without any resistance met is humiliating, but you can’t bring yourself to care when your girlfriend lowers herself back down over you to kiss you again.

“mmgh, korra..” you pant breathlessly against her ear, your arms wrapping around her shoulders as her fingers pump in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace, her breath hot and steamy against your jawline that she litters with nips and love bites. her lips trail down the valley of hickeys she left earlier, kissing down your neck to the slope of your shoulder, “so soft. so pliable for me.”

you squeal, limbs flailing under her when her fingers suddenly curl upwards against your g-spot, your vision going black for a second. “oh my— korra!”

her grin’s filthy and impossibly proud, lifting her face slightly off your chest to cheekily stare down at you. “right there, huh?”

she forces an answer out of you with another thrust of her fingers that has you clawing at her back, drooling and dazedly repeating her name, your glassy eyes a clear ‘yes’ to her question. “korra!! ungh, korra, you—”

“good girl,” she presses a soft kiss over your left breast, a quiet warning for what was to come. her thumb joins in to swipe over your puffy clit, and the pressure as well as its unexpected coldness have you screaming. her free hand slaps over your mouth, an amused smile tugging at her lips as she tuts, “shh. we’re still at the beach, y’know. do you want people to see you like this, baby?”

cruelly, she waterbends the bit of sea water left on her thumb into ice against your poor clit, making you uselessly thrash under her weight, tears pricking at your eyes while you cry out against her palm. the ice melts from the sheer heat between your thighs, the water trickling down to seep into your stuffed cunt, the clash of temperatures rendering you a dumb overstimulated mess in seconds.

the entire time, she does not rip her eyes off you, drinking in the desperation and desire twisting your pretty features, the very sight turning her on even more. with a slow exhale, she leans down until your noses almost touch. “i’m gonna take my hand off your mouth now, okay? but be quiet.”

you nod, looking up at her through tears, and she smiles fondly. “attagirl.”

as promised, you chew hard on your bottom lip when she retracts her hand, trying your best to keep quiet as her fingers continue scissoring you open. when she deems your silence good enough, she nods as well, before abruptly pulling out of you and lowering herself further down your body, kissing down your sternum to your lower tummy.

your face scrunches up in confusion at the loss of her fingers and the now gentle attention, then your eyes blow wide open at the realization when she stops at your cunt, eyeing it with the filthiest smirk. you hiss, heat creeping up your cheeks to your ears, “k—korra! i don’t know if i’ll be able to stay quiet if you—”

she clicks her tongue, impatient, large palms splaying over your hips to pull you closer to her face. “then we’ll just have to find out, sweetheart. that’s your problem, so do your best.”

once again, all your protests die out immediately when she roughly licks a big stripe up your drenched center, her warm mouth on you like heaven after the icy teasing.

staying quiet proves to be near impossible, tears welling up in your eyes again at the overwhelming pleasure induced by her oh so skilled tongue, your hands reaching down to sharply pull on her brown hair.

your teeth draw blood from your bottom lip, and yet all you can do is roll your hips up into her face and moan like a slut, begging for more.

her grip’s deadly tight around your thighs while she feasts on you like you were her last dinner, her tongue flicking and lapping wildly at your wetness, her satisfied grunts rumbling in her throat and vibrating through your very walls so deliciously that your toes curl.

the harder you tug on her hair, the more frenzied her eating seems to get and you can’t keep a few screams from slipping out, barely holding it together as your legs spasm uncontrollably around her head. you choke out more sobs when she tends to your clit too, swollen and throbbing from the earlier abuse, and your eyes cross and roll back when her lips seal around it in a suckling motion.

“oh spirits, korra, korra, please—” you call out her name through tears like a prayer, your voice cracking, letting go of her hair to cover your mouth with both hands while the heat pooling deep in your guts threatens to spill over.

she scoffs at your increasingly loud pleading, earning you a light smack to the side of your thigh. “someone will hear you. behave.”

she revels in how effectively her command shuts you up, cooing praise at you before resuming her thorough devouring.

her mouth’s merciless on the poor bud, ruthlessly licking and sucking on it — even nipping at it — the exquisite pain directly registering as overwhelming pleasure in your addled mind.

you make the mistake of looking down at her through bleary half-lidded eyes, and you find her staring right back at you with the wildest gaze you’d ever seen; that’s when you completely lose it. the next swirl of her tongue has your vision flashing white, violently gushing all over her face as a mind-numbing orgasm crashes over you.

even in your otherwordly haze, you can vividly feel her lips morph into a pleased smile against your pussy while she licks up your cum, tonguing it into your sopping wet hole and cleaning up the mess on your inner thighs.

when she’s satisfied with her work, she presses a soft kiss to your perked up clit, and another to your folds. “so sweet, like always. maybe even sweeter. i think it’s that fruit punch.”

you’re totally out of it, eyes fluttering sleepily as you lay slumped on your sunbed, utterly spent and taken care of. your girlfriend finally pats your cunt goodbye, tying your bikini bottoms back on and sighing like she was mourning the very pussy she was going to eat later again today. “aw, i’ll miss her so much.”

korra’s face finally comes into view when she lifts herself up to meet your gaze again, pure joy adorning her features at how blissed out you seem. she smiles and kisses your cheek, one hand tenderly cupping your right breast, “you’re so beautiful like this. my girlfriend, all nice and fucked out on a public beach. truly a sight to behold.”

a soft moan slips out of your lips when her thumb toys with your sensitive nipple, and you shakily bring your hand up to rest over hers, the gentle, shared eye contact somehow more intimate than the whole ordeal that just took place. “.. that was.. so good, korra. thank you.”

she shakes her head, capturing your lips into a slow, steady kiss, and you taste yourself on her tongue. she smiles down at you lovingly, her other hand coming up to cradle your face. “no, thank you. you’re always so good for me, baby.”

you return her smile, stealing another brief kiss from her lips before plopping back against your cushions with a weary satisfied sigh. “..never thought i’d do that here.”

she laughs loudly, tying up your bikini top. “if you’re dating the avatar, expect more here’s and there’s, sweetheart. i can bend four elements at will, so i can also bend you wherever i want.”

you groan and kick her off the bed, flustered, making her land in the sand with a giggly yelp. “go build your sand castles, pervert.”

she gets up with a dramatic sigh, dusting herself, “so ungrateful. fine, but you won’t get to be princess in them when i’m done.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

* art creds: @/wickesdt

so sorry for the slow posting babies, i’ve been so lazy and it took me so long to find an idea…………. anywaymgnhhh korraaaaaaa she’s my current obsession i need her so bad

Korra’s breath hitched, head tilting back as a moan fell out of her lips. Her body was warm all over, the other figure against hers adding to the fact.

“Pretty,” you purred, earning yourself a whimper from the woman.

You withdrew the dildo from Korra’s slick cunny gently, letting it drag along her silken walls until the tip was all that’s left. Then a thrust; one that made Korra’s body jolt with another choked moan.

A smile adorned your lips as you observed the Avatar, taking pride in every reaction you were rewarded with. You leaned in, offering a gentle kiss to her jaw. Korra immediately tilted her head in acceptance, allowing you to place more than one.

You repeated the calculated thrusts with your hips, listening to Korra’s cries of pleasure like it was the most enchanting music.

“Absolutely beautiful,” you whispered once more, grinning as you felt Korra’s nails dig into your skin. She whined your name, one that sounded strained from the overwhelming pleasure. “What? Can’t I describe what I see?”

“Shut up—you, mnn.. you know I can’t last long when you say stuff like that,” Korra grunted out, her brows furrowed in concentration to simmer herself.

“That’s the plan, sweetheart,” you hummed, picking up the pace which caused Korra to tilt her head back and moan deeply.

The avatar gasped and panted. Her nails clawed at your skin as you changed the speed. Blue eyes rolled back before she closed them with her mouth hanging open. Schlick sounded throughout the room you both resided in, the bed squeaking beneath you both as you continued to thrust the toy deeply inside Korra’s pussy.

“Been loving you for hours, pretty. And you deserve every bit of it,” you whispered as you gave Korra’s hips a squeeze. The moment those words left your lips, an idea formed.

You slowed the thrusts, making sure to drag the dildo more precisely as you eyed Korra intently. The said Avatar whined, brows furrowed with frustration. Her eyes snapped open to glare at you.

“Say it.”

Now Korra’s expression shifted to one of confusion.

“Tell me you deserve this,” you stated.

An embarrassed look now adorned the Avatar’s face. She grunted and looked away. Her eyes bore into the wall, debating. She grumbled as she felt your thrusts slow even more, her hips attempting to buck to try and get you back to your previous pace.

“All you gotta do is say it, sweetheart,” you assured, rubbing Korra’s hips gently. “And I’ll give it all to you…”

Biting her lower lip Korra whined, her body warming even further due to the growing embarrassment.

“I deserve it.” She finally stated.

“Yeah?” You held true to your words, slowly increasing the pace of your thrusts.

“M..mhm. I deserve it all,” she repeated with a nod, brows twitching as sparks of pleasure course through her body as your thrusts became more prominent.

“Keep going…” you hummed, bringing one hand up to cup the Avatar’s cheek.

Korra’s cheeks warmed. Now comes another sweep of embarrassment. It’s not like she believes she hasn't earned this part of your love, but it’s… embarrassing to say it out loud. Especially when it makes her feel arrogant.

Even if that’s what you were achieving.

“Tell me exactly what you deserve,” she heard you whisper, offering a slow roll of your hips that had the Avatar moaning. Spirits—you knew how to play with her body to make her a mess.

“I—fuck—I deserve your love. Everything you give me,” she said with a breathless voice, gasping as she felt your pace returning. It helped encourage her.

You gave a sweet hum, bringing one hand down to play with her clit. It earned you a moan. Korra’s noises continued to rise in pitch. The Avatar mewled and cried, her hands clinging desperately onto you as she dealt with a multitude of euphoric waves.

“Your fingers—oh.. I deserve those too,” she babbled with heavy pants. “Mine,” she gasped with one shaky hand clutching your forearm. “All mine.”

“All yours.” You would repeat with a nod. Hearing the ownership, the need tumbling from the woman’s lips had you feeling a sense of pleasure. You bit your lip to quiet your whimper. “It’s all yours.”

Your fingers continued to gently swirl around Korra’s clit as you gave small grinds between every thrust. It had the avatar moaning deeply, her blue eyes glistening with overwhelmed tears. She panted and whimpered your name, tilting her head into the pillows and arching her back.

“Don’t stop,” Korra gasped, digging her nails further into you. “Fuck.. ‘m so close... So close…”

Hearing her desperation you quickened your pace, basking yourself in the sound of Korra’s pleasure. Her moans were drawn out, loud and thick accompanied by smaller and higher pitched whimpers.

As her pleasure continued to heighten she finally reached her peak. She tensed with a loud cry of your name dragging her nails down your shoulder and arm. You felt her warmth coat your pelvis and thighs, causing the sound of skin on skin contact to sound wet.

You began to slow your pace, dragging out Korra’s orgasm. You peppered gentle kisses to her face and offered soft praises.

Once you were able to slow your thrusts enough, you began to pull out the dildo. You gave a kiss to Korra’s lips, one the avatar happily accepted with a happy hum.

For a while, when you were cleaning up and making sure Korra was comfortable, a blissful silence fell over you both. And yet, the warm gazes you both shared frequently said enough.

I was nervous. I didn't say it, but she knew. Vi always knew. She was stretched out on my bed, propped on her elbows, the muscles in her forearms carved and taut. The late afternoon sun slanted through the blinds, striping her body in gold and shadow. She watched me with those blue-gray eyes, patient, unwavering. There was no pressure in her gaze, only invitation.

"You're thinking too loud," she said, her voice a low rasp that sent a shiver down my spine.

I laughed, short and breathless. "I'm always thinking."

"I know. It's one of the reasons why I love you."

The word landed like a punch to my sternum—good and solid. We hadn't said it much, but when we did, it was like signing a treaty. I crossed the room, my boots heavy on the hardwood. I stopped at the edge of the bed and looked down at her. She was all sharp angles and soft curves—a contradiction I wanted to map with my hands.

Being a service top wasn't a role I'd chosen—it was just what I felt pulling at me, even if I'd barely had the chance to prove it yet. I didn't have the vocabulary or the confidence down cold. I was still figuring out where to put my hands, how to read the room, when to push and when to pause. But what I did know was this: I didn't need to receive. Or maybe I didn't know how to ask yet. Either way, my pleasure was the echo of hers—and God, I wanted to hear that echo clearly. Her hitched breath, the arch of her back, the way her fingers twisted in sheets like she was holding on for dear life—those were the things I was aching to learn. I wanted to earn every gasp, every tremble, every surrender. Not because I was good at it yet. But because I wanted to be. For her.

I unbuckled my belt slowly, letting the leather slide through the loops. Vi's eyes tracked the movement. Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip. I'd been dreaming of this for weeks—the weight of the harness, the cool silicone against my skin, the way it would make me feel like I was exactly where I belonged: between her thighs, serving her.

"You sure?" I asked, because I had to.

She reached up and grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me down until my forehead touched hers. "I've never been more sure of anything."

That was all I needed.

I stripped off my shirt, then my jeans—slowly, partly stalling. My fingers fumbled with the buttons. The harness was already waiting on the nightstand, a thing of black leather and polished buckles. I picked it up. Heavier than I expected—or maybe that was just my hands shaking. Beneath the nerves, something stirred. Not dominance. I hadn't earned that. But devotion? Yes. Clumsy, desperate, trembling devotion. The kind that tripped over itself, just to get it right for her.

Vi sat up, her own shirt falling from her shoulders. She was all lean muscle and soft skin, a thin scar running along her ribs from a childhood accident she'd never talked about. I wanted to kiss it. I wanted to kiss every inch of her.

I took her hand and pressed my lips to her knuckles, one by one. Her breath stuttered.

"Tell me what you want," I murmured against her skin, with a confidence I wasn't sure was real.

"I want to feel you," she said. "All of you."

I nodded. That was the blueprint. I'd build the rest as we went.

I stepped into the harness and cinched it tight. I attached the dildo—medium, curved, not too intimidating—and the silicone was cool against my belly. I took a moment to adjust, to settle into the weight of it. It wasn't about me; it never was. But it transformed me. My spine straightened, my shoulders rolled back. I wasn't confident—not yet—but I was ready. Or ready enough.

Vi lay back, and I crawled onto the bed, bracketing her hips with my knees. I leaned down, my hands braced on either side of her head. She smelled like sandalwood and sweat. Her neck was exposed, vulnerable, and I lowered my mouth to that pulse point, feeling it hammer against my tongue.

"You're so beautiful," I whispered.

She laughed, a throaty sound. "You're biased."

"I'm accurate."

I took my time. This wasn't a race. I kissed the hollow of her throat, the dip of her collarbone, the soft skin beneath her breast. Her nipples were dark, pebbled, and I circled one with my tongue, then the other, while my hand traced the ridge of her hip. She shuddered. Her fingers threaded through my short hair, pulling me closer.

I moved lower, dragging my lips down the flat plane of her stomach. She was already wet—I could smell it, that heady, musky scent that made my mouth water. But I didn't go there yet. I kissed the inside of her thigh, the sensitive skin behind her knee. She twitched, a laugh escaping her.

And I smiled. I filed it away, another piece of her I'd exploit later. But then, I was building. Every kiss was a brick. Every sigh was mortar. I wanted her to feel worshipped.

Finally, I settled between her legs. She was spread open for me, pink and glistening. My warm breath touched her clit and she arched her hips, humming.

I rewarded her with a slow, flat lick—bottom to top. She tasted like salt and honey. I moaned without meaning to, and the vibration made her gasp. I lapped at her like I was starving, like she was the only thing keeping me alive. Her fingers twisted the sheets. Her thighs tightened around my ears. Her low moans were delicious—I almost lost it myself, just from the sound.

"There," she panted. "Right there."

I worked her with my mouth, building a rhythm, letting her ride my face. She was so close—I could feel the flutter of her muscles, the quickening of her breath. But I pulled back just before she crested.

She whimpered in protest. I crawled up her body, the strap-on brushing against her thigh. I was dripping with her, my chin slick.

"Not yet," I said. "I want to be inside you."

Her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. She nodded, biting her lip.

I reached for the lube—maybe too much, but better safe than sorry. I slicked the silicone, warming it between my fingers, trying to remember everything I'd read, watched, imagined. Vi watched me, and I couldn't tell if she was mesmerized or just waiting for me to figure it out. I positioned myself, the tip pressing against her entrance, and my heart was hammering so loud I was sure she could hear it. Her legs hooked around my waist, and I thought, Okay. Here goes. Don't mess this up.

"Ready?" I whispered.

"Fuck yes."

I pushed in slowly. An inch. Two. Her mouth fell open, a silent O of pleasure. I stopped when I was halfway, giving her time to adjust. Her inner walls clenched around me, hot and tight. I swore I felt it in my own body—the pressure, the fullness. I closed my eyes, breathing through the phantom sensation.

"Okay?" I managed.

"More," she demanded.

So I gave her more. I sank in to the hilt, the harness pressing flush against her. She groaned—low, long—and I felt it echo through me. I held still for a moment, letting her adjust, letting myself feel every inch of this. Then I moved. Slow at first, testing. But something clicked—a rhythm I hadn't planned, but my body knew.

Slow thrusts. Deep. I angled my hips, searching for that spot I'd read about, and when I found it, she clawed at my back.

"Fuck—right there—don't stop—"

I didn't. I found a pace—steady, sure. Every roll of my hips asked the same thing: Like this? Right here? Her answers came in moans, in nails biting my shoulders, in the way she lifted to meet me. And I read every one of them. I wasn't guessing anymore. I was learning her in real time—and I was starting to feel like I actually belonged there.

I bent down to kiss her, swallowing her moans like they were mine to keep. Her tongue met mine, and I kissed her deeper, fiercer. I reached between us, thumb finding her clit, circling in time with my thrusts—and I had the rhythm now, I felt it. Her body tensed. Her legs started to shake. And I couldn't help it—I smiled against her mouth. Not because I was smug. Because I was there, doing this, and she was responding, and God, I wanted to see her fall apart. I wanted to catch every piece.

"I'm close," she gasped against my lips.

"Let go," I purred. "I've got you."

Her orgasm crashed through her like a wave. She arched off the bed, a keening cry ripping from her throat. I felt the spasms around me, rhythmic and pulsing, and I pushed deeper, riding her through it. She clenched and released, clenched and released, and I watched her face twist in ecstasy—the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

When she finally collapsed, limp and trembling, I pulled out slowly. She whimpered at the loss. I unfastened the harness and tossed it aside, then gathered her in my arms, pulling her against my chest. Her skin was damp. Her heart hammered against my ribs.

I was still hard... not physically, but something deeper. A bone-deep ache of satisfaction.

"That was…" she trailed off, breathless.

"Good?" I offered, voice smaller than I meant it to be. I was still catching my breath, still half-floating on what had just happened, but suddenly I needed to hear it—needed to know I hadn't just imagined the whole thing. My eyes searched hers, hungry for a sign, a nod, anything.

She laughed, a watery sound. "It was perfect."

I kissed her forehead, her nose, the corner of her mouth—like I was tracing the shape of her approval. My reward was that smile. That rare, unguarded curve of her lips. My chest swelled. I buried my face in her neck and breathed her in.

"I love you," I said, and it was easier than I'd thought.

She looked up at me, those gray eyes soft and shining. "I know. I love you too."

We lay there as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the room in shades of amber and rose. She was curled into my side, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my stomach. I was still buzzing, a low hum of contentment.

°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 

. she plays with her piercing all the time and somehow she's never gotten an infection ever

. but she had so many bumps especially on her helix

. hates the feeling of a necklace on her neck so bad but she handles it just to wear her stable necklace (she has that black dagger necklace, the same one that rhea ripley has) (iykyk)

. uses old spice deodrant cause it works better ngl

. i also think she'd legit die if she ever realizes she smells bad at any point

. i don't even need to say this because it's in the rule book of the fandom atp but she absloutely has nipple piercings omg

. she loves photography as an art but also as a form of remembering

. she would take over the last drop with vander after she turns like 25

. she'd run that shit like the NAVY

. the regulars get so emotional over the fact that the little kid that used to come say hi when she's bored is now the one serving them beer

. every person working in the last drop fucking loves her, she may be a little strict but she's deadass a ride or die

. oh you can't come to work cause of a stuffy nose? don't you even worry

.she also gives mandatory days off for every women when they have their periods

. literally my dream boss holy shit

. she cracks her neck 24\7 & it legit sounds like she broke her neck and died

. Did her neck stop at one angle & she couldn't move it for days? Yes.

. Did she learn? Nope.

. ticklish AS FUCK everywhere

. Specifically her sides, neck and hips

. has a weird ass obsession with pickles (her fav is kosher dill)

. Has eaten an entire jar of pickles doomscrolling and didn't even realize

. she has pink bedsheets cause of her hair

. after dying her hair she wakes up with a stained sink, stained shower & stained face cause she slept on her hair (not speaking of experience ofc)

. Dressed up as butch wolverine for Halloween once (in her opinion it's the best she's ever looked) (save me butch wolverine)

. LOVES reading literally any kind of book she finds interesting from the blurb on the back (fiction or not)

. holds her boob for comfort all the time

.stands like a dad infrony of the TV scratching her stomach with a hand on her hip

.also shuffles nuts in her hands like a dad

.needs to hug a pillow or else she won't be able to sleep

. always covers her feet when sleeping

. nail biter

.sleeps with one leg up on her stomach with one hand on the pillow and the other underneath

.Rolls her shoulders all the time like it'll relief any pain

.an absolute beast when it comes to eating she inhales her food

.has the worst bed head in the morning

. has the softest skin in the world that's covered in freckles especially her nose

. is red hood (jason todd) reincarnated

. loves action books but loves Sci fi movies

.has awful nightmares and starts twitching like crazy

.Coffee/red bull addict it doesn't do shit to her tho

. Loves the game "tekken" honestly any version of it

"i know, but i missed you." her voice is low, her eyes like twin shards of ice in the backstage dark. behind you, your manager clears her throat but she knows better by now than to interrupt.

"i'll be done in --" you look down at a pretend watch on your wrist before leaning in for another quick peck, "an hour, and then i'm all yours."

vi crinkles her nose, biting her lips as she looks you up and down with the same kind of hunger often found in starving wolves.

"yeah, princess? promise?" she pushes her lips into a pout and you nearly fold -- but you don't. this is a dance you've done one too many times by now. you reach out to poke her nose, making her go slightly cross-eyed.

"promise, vi."

she smiles, that tooth-aching smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes and you lean in for one last kiss before your manager ushers you off for the outfit change.

you're only a few minutes late to your next set, but the heat that burns beneath your skin is electric, and after, when your fancams start hitting the internet, people will wonder what your blush is, or what kind of highlighter your makeup artist used.

Being the rebellious thing he is, you better believe he's going with you to protests if that's your thing. He gets to be loud, he gets to ravage stuff and make a statement on his hatred for the authority figures and corrupted system you both live in. And that statement is that he hates their guts and wishes them to die. I think he maybe has even gotten into fights whenever someone tries to stop him. He's honestly living the dream.

He's all from breaking norms and social contructs. Whatever society tells him it's wrong, he's going to support that in the blink of an eye, so if you happen to be in a minority group he's making sure to stand proud beside you and make it known that he doesn't love you "despite" or "because" of this. He loves you, and you just happen to be part of a minority group. That's it, there's no more to it.

Till is 10000000000% up to sharing his clothes with you if you think they're cool. He'd be a blushing, stuttering mess the first few times he actually sees you in them but in time he'd get used to it so you wouldn't even bother asking for them anymore.

Honestly? Till would also be into taking your clothes as well. Y'all have one big shared closet. It wouldn't even matter if they're a little more "femenine" looking, he's up to anything precisely because he doesn't CARE about whatever some random has to say if they see him on the street with a dress.

If they try saying anything to you though, that's a different story; he would be throwing hands at whoever dared making fun of your clothes or barking an inappropiate comment your way. If he catches someone barking at you he'd be barking back like it's a battle for dominance. And then when they look at him like he's crazy he'd just be like "yeah that's what I thought".

Rip Till you would have loved thrifting. Whenever he steps into that shop he's locked in, he's in his element. Do NOT distract him; you know better. Sometimes you'll exit the place and you'll proudly show him your findings just for him to brag about how he found literal gold or some shit. You can't win here; he's genuienly built for this. But boy do you have a house full of awsome sauce stuff.

You love, love, LOVE the music he makes. He would be too shy to admit it, but he has composed a few of his songs with you as his inspiration (more than he would ever admit out loud, actually)

He once found out you have a playlist with all the songs he's ever sent you (both made by him and recommended by him). He almost had a heart attack he wanted to propose on the spot.

Firm believer that Till would wear makeup, which he would often steal from you. Not like you mind, but now you're buying TWICE the eyeliner.

you examine your face in the mirror, expression scrunched up in thought. you and your girlfriend have a party to go to tonight, and you’re pondering what to do with your makeup. it’s just a casual hangout, but you always want to look nice. behind you in the reflection is vi, arms wrapped around your waist like you’ll disappear if she lets go. you’re perched on her lap, the way you always are when you do your makeup- vi swears she just likes to watch, but more often than not, your makeup is the last thing she’s focused on. you’ve barely sat down before she’s buried her face into your shoulder, pressing lazy kisses to your skin while you try your best to concentrate on your makeup.

“do you think i should put my blush below my eyes or like on my cheekbones?” you wonder aloud, pursing your lips thoughtfully at your reflection in your vanity. you tilt your head to the side for a better angle. “or maybe i should do my concealer first and then decide?”

“whatever you feel like,” vi mumbles absently into the crook of your neck, dropping feather-light kisses from your jawline down to your shoulder. her voice is muffled by your skin, and she takes a long inhale. “look pretty either way.”

you consider this, then set the pan of blush back down. “mm… it’s whatever. i’ll just do my concealer first and then decide. but what about for my lips? my outfit is pink, so i want it to coordinate,” you muse, more to yourself than your girlfriend, because she’s obviously not listening. you lean over your desk, vi’s arms around your waist holding fast, and pluck two pink tubes of lip gloss from their shelf before sitting back and twisting slightly in vi’s lap, trying to get her attention. “do you like the nude pink or the brighter pink? i’m kind of into the bright one, but i don’t want it to look tacky.”

vi glances up from your shoulder with slightly hooded eyes, her hand already sneaking under your top. she sighs and wrinkles her nose, vaguely irritated that you’re all distracted with your makeup. in her opinion, this time would be much better spent on getting in a quick fuck before you have to go; but admittedly it is cute watching you fuss over your face like this, even if vi thinks it’s perfect as is. “what’s the difference? they’re both pink.”

you’re bewildered at vi’s indifference. “what do you mean, what’s the difference? they’re completely different shades!” you insist, like it’s obvious, because it is, but vi’s not paying a lick of attention. seeing as she’s totally useless, you turn to glance at your outfit hanging on the closet door. “hmm. maybe i’ll just go with the one that’s closest to the color of my top.”

you lift both glosses to eye-level to compare, and vi takes the chance to slip her hands under the hem of your slightly lifted tank top to squeeze your tits unceremoniously, flicking her thumbs over your nipples. she lifts her head to kiss your cheek. “sounds good to me.”

the way she suddenly grips your breasts makes you squeak in surprise, and you whirl around in her lap to shoot her a look. “you’re distracting me! we need to be at this thing in like an hour and i’ve barely started on my base,” you scold vi. she hums dismissively.

“it’s not even like you need it,” she murmurs, rolling a nipple in between her fingers until it hardens beneath her touch, making you squirm. she adds, unimpressed, “too many people come up to you already.”

you just scoff at that. vi clearly has no plans of leaving you alone, so you resign yourself to just trying to ignore her— not the easiest thing in the world, because you can never resist when she plays with your breasts, but you’re on a time crunch. “anyway. i definitely think the brighter one matches better,” you decide, satisfied. “so that means i’ll just do my blush the same color.”

she mumbles her agreement against you, still idly fondling your tits. “okay, sweet girl.”

vi lets you get through your base routine without distracting you too much more, but of course the second you need to be still to do your eyeliner, that’s when she decides to lick a slow, wet stripe up your neck, from your shoulder to your ear, and of course you can’t help but react to that, squealing and jerking your head away. “vi! stop, i’m trying to do my eyeliner!”

vi laughs out loud, delighted at your reaction, and delivers a sharp slap to your thigh that makes you jump again. “oh, come on, baby. i barely did anything.”

still, she relents, nuzzling her nose back into your neck as she breathes you in. “just finish your makeup already, ‘kay?”

“i’d have already been done if you’d just cut it out,” you insist, trying to sound stern, but the blush and the smile that breaks across your face gives you away. luckily, she actually lets you finish your makeup, and after one last once-over, you put down your setting spray with a pleased sigh.

you turn around in vi’s lap fully now, straddling her thighs with yours on either side of hers. “so? what do we think about the final look?” you ask earnestly, smiling brightly as you show off your makeup. “it’s not too crazy?”

vi grins right back up at you— you’re just so endearing, framing your face with your hands and puckering your lips to show off your makeup— which, despite all of her interference, admittedly did turn out cute. her hands slide from your waist to grip your ass as she straightens up to kiss you, purposefully slow and deep, so that when she finally does let you up for air, she gets the sheer satisfaction of seeing your freshly done lip gloss smeared all around your mouth.

you whip right back around to face your mirror again, horrified at the mess of pink smudged over your face. “vi! that was my lip gloss!”

you examine your face in the mirror, expression scrunched up in thought. you and your girlfriend have a party to go to tonight, and you’re pondering what to do with your makeup. it’s just a casual hangout, but you always want to look nice. behind you in the reflection is vi, arms wrapped around your waist like you’ll disappear if she lets go. you’re perched on her lap, the way you always are when you do your makeup- vi swears she just likes to watch, but more often than not, your makeup is the last thing she’s focused on. you’ve barely sat down before she’s buried her face into your shoulder, pressing lazy kisses to your skin while you try your best to concentrate on your makeup.

“do you think i should put my blush below my eyes or like on my cheekbones?” you wonder aloud, pursing your lips thoughtfully at your reflection in your vanity. you tilt your head to the side for a better angle. “or maybe i should do my concealer first and then decide?”

“whatever you feel like,” vi mumbles absently into the crook of your neck, dropping feather-light kisses from your jawline down to your shoulder. her voice is muffled by your skin, and she takes a long inhale. “look pretty either way.”

you consider this, then set the pan of blush back down. “mm… it’s whatever. i’ll just do my concealer first and then decide. but what about for my lips? my outfit is pink, so i want it to coordinate,” you muse, more to yourself than your girlfriend, because she’s obviously not listening. you lean over your desk, vi’s arms around your waist holding fast, and pluck two pink tubes of lip gloss from their shelf before sitting back and twisting slightly in vi’s lap, trying to get her attention. “do you like the nude pink or the brighter pink? i’m kind of into the bright one, but i don’t want it to look tacky.”

vi glances up from your shoulder with slightly hooded eyes, her hand already sneaking under your top. she sighs and wrinkles her nose, vaguely irritated that you’re all distracted with your makeup. in her opinion, this time would be much better spent on getting in a quick fuck before you have to go; but admittedly it is cute watching you fuss over your face like this, even if vi thinks it’s perfect as is. “what’s the difference? they’re both pink.”

you’re bewildered at vi’s indifference. “what do you mean, what’s the difference? they’re completely different shades!” you insist, like it’s obvious, because it is, but vi’s not paying a lick of attention. seeing as she’s totally useless, you turn to glance at your outfit hanging on the closet door. “hmm. maybe i’ll just go with the one that’s closest to the color of my top.”

you lift both glosses to eye-level to compare, and vi takes the chance to slip her hands under the hem of your slightly lifted tank top to squeeze your tits unceremoniously, flicking her thumbs over your nipples. she lifts her head to kiss your cheek. “sounds good to me.”

the way she suddenly grips your breasts makes you squeak in surprise, and you whirl around in her lap to shoot her a look. “you’re distracting me! we need to be at this thing in like an hour and i’ve barely started on my base,” you scold vi. she hums dismissively.

“it’s not even like you need it,” she murmurs, rolling a nipple in between her fingers until it hardens beneath her touch, making you squirm. she adds, unimpressed, “too many people come up to you already.”

you just scoff at that. vi clearly has no plans of leaving you alone, so you resign yourself to just trying to ignore her— not the easiest thing in the world, because you can never resist when she plays with your breasts, but you’re on a time crunch. “anyway. i definitely think the brighter one matches better,” you decide, satisfied. “so that means i’ll just do my blush the same color.”

she mumbles her agreement against you, still idly fondling your tits. “okay, sweet girl.”

vi lets you get through your base routine without distracting you too much more, but of course the second you need to be still to do your eyeliner, that’s when she decides to lick a slow, wet stripe up your neck, from your shoulder to your ear, and of course you can’t help but react to that, squealing and jerking your head away. “vi! stop, i’m trying to do my eyeliner!”

vi laughs out loud, delighted at your reaction, and delivers a sharp slap to your thigh that makes you jump again. “oh, come on, baby. i barely did anything.”

still, she relents, nuzzling her nose back into your neck as she breathes you in. “just finish your makeup already, ‘kay?”

“i’d have already been done if you’d just cut it out,” you insist, trying to sound stern, but the blush and the smile that breaks across your face gives you away. luckily, she actually lets you finish your makeup, and after one last once-over, you put down your setting spray with a pleased sigh.

you turn around in vi’s lap fully now, straddling her thighs with yours on either side of hers. “so? what do we think about the final look?” you ask earnestly, smiling brightly as you show off your makeup. “it’s not too crazy?”

vi grins right back up at you— you’re just so endearing, framing your face with your hands and puckering your lips to show off your makeup— which, despite all of her interference, admittedly did turn out cute. her hands slide from your waist to grip your ass as she straightens up to kiss you, purposefully slow and deep, so that when she finally does let you up for air, she gets the sheer satisfaction of seeing your freshly done lip gloss smeared all around your mouth.

you whip right back around to face your mirror again, horrified at the mess of pink smudged over your face. “vi! that was my lip gloss!”